Slytherin Princess | ✓

two

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. 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 only good thing about having the common room in the dungeons was the fact that going up to the main floor for mealtimes wasn't difficult. After breakfast, I walked with Pansy to our first lesson: Potions with Professor Snape (and Gryffindors). Draco and his two friends followed Pansy and me into the classroom.

As Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons, most of the Gryffindors looked terrified. It was colder here than up in the main castle and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

"Pansy are you really sitting with Bulstrode and not me?" I crossed my arms over my chest.

"Lady," Pansy sighed, using my new nickname, "you'll be fine! Sit with Draco or something."

Sighing, I took the empty chair next to Draco and gave him a quick smile. Hopefully he was a good partner.

Snape started the class by taking the roll call and paused when reading Harry's.

"Ah, Yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new... celebrity."

Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle sniggered behind their hands as I rolled my eyes. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black, cold, and empty and made you think of dark tunnels; being the Head of Slytherin House you'd think I'd be use to his hard stares, but I was not.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but I caught every word; Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "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."

More silenced followed his little speech.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

From my spot, I saw that Hermione Granger's hand had shot into the air.

"I don't know, sir," said Harry Potter.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

"Tut, tut— fame clearly isn't everything."

He ignored Granger's hand.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Granger stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat, seemed like an annoying know-it-all. Almost as if she had something to prove.

"I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" Snape looked as if he were enjoying Harry's ignorance. "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

This time, Granger stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling. The curly blond next to her looked surprised and slightly terrified of what Granger was doing.