I May have helped an Evil Wizard. (rewrite)

How to screw up potions for beginners.

Whispers followed Harriet from the moment she left her dormitory the next day. People lining up outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at her, or doubled back to pass her in the corridors again, staring. Harriet wished they wouldn't, because she was trying to concentrate on finding her way to classes.

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Harriet was sure the coats of armor could walk. It made her wish for a magical map of some sort!

The ghosts were of no help. The Bloody Baron was busy moping and Peeves the poltergeist pulled pranks on everyone even two minutes away from being late to class. Harriet had luckily managed to work out a deal with him. She made a pun every morning and she and her friends weren't bothered for the rest of the day. It was a good deal.

The caretaker however, was the absolute worst. Argus Filch.

He and his cat were both horrid. What they had done wrong, they had no clue. He hated Harriet and her friends with a seething passion.

To make things worse, Filch knew the secret passageways of the school better than anyone (except perhaps the Weasley twins) and could pop up as suddenly as any of the ghosts. The students all hated him, and it was the dearest ambition of many to give Mrs. Norris a good kick.

Astronomy was cool. They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. 

Herbology was pretty easy, if you were good at memorizing. They learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for. Professor Sprout was a very good teacher. Her favourite student was probably a shy boy, called Neville Longbottom. He seemed very nice when he spoke and readily accepted the invitation to sit next to Harriet after a certain Ron Weasley sent him away rather harshly.

Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost.  Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates. His favourite topics were possibly the witch burnings and goblin wars.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. He was also one of the nicest teachers and a former duelling champion! Harriet thought he was brilliant. 

Professor McGonagall was again different. Harriet had been quite right to think she wasn't a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. This earning whoops and cheers from the class. The lesson was then begun with much enthusiasm. 

After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. The girl seated in front of Harriet had managed perfectly. When Harriet asked how she did it, she went a bit red and stammered her way through a very good explanation. She also introduced herself as Hermione.

The class they had all been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke.  His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they believed this story. For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather. He also jumped at the slightest noise.

Harriet was relieved to find out that she wasn't miles behind everyone else.  All the studying she had done over the summer had really paid off, not to mention there were plenty of other students from muggle families. She even joined a sort of study group of Slytherin students. They were all very adamant about helping each other.

"Us Slytherins have got to watch each others backs, right?" an older student grinned at her when she had asked why.

Harriet didn't like to admit it, but this seemed all too true. There was obviously an inherent level of mistrust the other houses held for Slytherin and many wary, if not disgusted, glances were sent their way. It made her blood boil.

Harriet made her first enemy during potions class on Friday. They were seated in the dungeon classroom with th Gryffindor students. Harriet next to what she found out was the youngest brother of the Weasley family, Ron. In passing, obviously. 

The potions master, Professor Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harriet's Name. He gave her a glance. She shrunk back into her seat feeling nervous. He scanned her and then turned back to the Register. Then he began teaching.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses.... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death  - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

'Motivational,' Harriet thought.

Silence followed this little speech. Snape put them all into pairs with the people next to them and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone. 

Suddenly the cauldron Harriet and Ron were using began to bubble dangerously. Harriet moved back wisely. There was a bang and the cauldron exploded. Screeching was heard as everyone scrambled onto their stools and desks.

"I bet this is your fault!" Weasley hissed at her.

"My fault?!" Harriet asked incredulously. "You're the one that was supposed to add the crushed fangs!" She had even told him to.

"Typical Slytherin," Weasley snarled at her, "Always looking to place the blame on someone else!"

"Are you kidding me?" Harriet raised an eyebrow. Really? Judgement by house?

"I bet you're used to things going your way, Potter." Weasley said. "Perfect Potter, no wonder your in the dark house! I bet you and your new friends love telling others what to do and blaming them when it goes wrong. I bet you fit in really well with the serpent freaks!"

Harriet shoved him. How dare he speak of her friends like that. He didn't know anything about them!

Only when she noticed all the eyes on her, did she realise she had said that out loud.

Weasley who was struggling to maintain his balance, gave a disbelieving snort.

"Oh please!" He sneered, "They're all the same evil, deceitful, horrible people their parents are!"

Harriet saw red. She tackled Weasley off the chair into the blotches position spreading over the ground below and punched him in the face. She was hauled off of him by professor Snape.Weasly was yanked to his feet as well. After a couple cleaning charms on the classroom professor Snape dismissed everyone and dragged them to the hospital wing.

"Potions incident." He told Madam Pomfrey who came rushing over. Then to the students he was holding by their robes, "A week's detention, both of you. Weasley, ten points from Gryffindor. I shall send you both the details."

He let go of them and marched from the hospital wing, his robes billowing behind him. 

Harriet and Weasley glared at each other, darkly.