Chapter 3

The next morning Al was awoken by a shrill sound and a large object jumping on him. He opened his eyes blearily, mumbling, “Get off, James. Just five more minutes.”

“Al, wake up! Al, it’s the first day of school! First day of classes, Al! Wake up!” Al sat up, and the redhead sitting on his knees came into focus.

“Oi! Louis! What are you doing?” Al slumped back onto his pillow.

Louis shook his shoulders. “Breakfast time, Al, we gotta eat, get our schedules and everything!”

Al sat up on his elbows. “Louis, if I’m going to get out of bed, you’ll need to get off my knees.”

Louis leaped off in a moment. “Hurry up, Al!” With that, he ran down the stairs. Al realized that he was the last one up, and started hurrying around getting ready. Twenty minutes later, he came down the stairs, fully robed and carrying his schoolbag. He had taken his wand out of his bag and put it into his robes pocket and felt very aware of it being there.

Lysander, Siobhan, and Rosie were standing near the portrait hole, waiting for him. He was a little embarrassed that he’d slept later then everyone else. The three of them started off for breakfast, regaining the excitement they had had yesterday for start of school. They had a little over half hour remaining until classes started and were fairly confident they had plenty time to get to breakfast.

“So can you believe it? Scorpius Malfoy is a Gryffindor and he’s sharing our dormitory.” Lysander shook his head in disbelief.

“That came to a complete shock to me,” admitted Al.

“Well, maybe that means he’s not really that bad,” Rosie countered. They considered it. “Well honestly. If the hat put him in Gryffindor, maybe it’s because he belongs there.”

“You know, maybe he was right, w-what he said on the train,” Siobhan said, stuttering a bit when they all looked at her. “You know, that we don’t know him.”

“I suppose,” Lysander shrugged. "Seeing as he's in Gryffindor, apparently we do not."

“Guys, we have a slightly more pressing problem,” Al spoke up, stopping in the corridor and looking around him. The other three stopped.

“Er… what is it?” Lysander asked him.

“I’m pretty sure we’ve been down this corridor before,” Al examined the portrait of a woman in a purple dress, giggling at them. “And I’m pretty sure we passed this portrait already.”

“Oh, you’re right,” Rosie was devastated. “We’re lost!”

“Oh, wonderful. Now what do we do?” Lysander looked around him. “I wasn’t paying too close attention last night.”

“Maybe if we’d have left earlier we could have gone with a prefect…” Rosie looked pointedly at Al.

“I know, I know, I slept in! Sorry!”

"Lost, are you?" The four whirled around to find themselves face to face with a tall dark boy, leaning against the tapestry with his arms crossed. It was Declan Williams, the boy they met last night after the Sorting.

"Yes, we are," Siobhan spoke up. "Could you help us?"

Williams tilted his head a little, as if they were a fascinating specimen he was observing.

Then he dropped his arms, and said, "Course I can. All first years get lost at one time or another. I know a shortcut; this way."

Williams pulled the tapestry he was leaning against aside and revealed a hidden corridor. They followed him down this corridor hastily. He took a couple turns, down two stairwells, and suddenly they came out at the Entrance Hall.

The hall was far less dark and looming now that it was bathed in gentle sunlight; the stone was friendly and not intimidating and the natural lighting gave the feeling of warmth. Williams led them into the Great Hall.

Williams spread his arms a little. "Voilà. The Great Hall. Have a good day, firsties. Siobhan." He nodded to her, then strode off to the Gryffindor table.

"Why is he nicer to her?" Lysander asked to no one in particular.

"It’s probably an Irish thing," Siobhan shrugged.

"Whatever. I'm hungry," Rosie said, and they moved to sit down.

After a delicious meal of French toast, scrambled eggs, bacon strips and juice, the Gryffindor Head of House, Professor Jones, began handing out timetables. Professor Jones was also their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher; she seemed nice, but Al could tell she was tough. He was also pretty sure she'd been over for tea at the Potter home before. After all, there weren't many battle-hardened types that his parents didn't know.

After taking a long time with the older students, Professor Jones reached the first years and gave them theirs. Al and Lysander examined Monday's schedule.

"Pretty good day ahead of us, don't you think? Herbology, Transfiguration, lunch, Charms, Potions, and Defense Against the Dark Arts." Lysander tucked his timetable into his bookbag. "Now, Herbology shouldn't be hard to find. It's just outside, in greenhouse one."

It turned out to be a little harder to find the greenhouses then expected. The grounds were vast and they did a good deal of walking around before realizing the greenhouses were on the other side of the lawn. The lot of them stumbled into Greenhouse One a little out of breath and on the verge of being late.

Luckily, a familiar face met them at the head of a long work table; Neville Longbottom, one of his dad’s close friends. He owned the Leaky Cauldron and lived in a flat over the pub with his wife. They were always pleasant to Al, James and Lily, and they liked them, too. Al thought it was pretty cool that Neville apparated to school from the pub every day. He was a decent sort, taller, dark haired and with thin scars scattered on his cheek. Al knew, from some stories of the dark days that his parents didn’t like to talk about, that the scars Neville had were from the year Hogwarts was under control by Dark wizards.

"Hiya, Nev- Er, I mean, Professor Longbottom. Sorry we're late, we're having problems finding places today."

"That's all right, Albus, you're not that late. Take a seat, kids, and we'll start class." Neville stood at the head of a long table, clapping his hands together.

Al went to stand at the table in front of a plant he didn't recognize, and the others stood next to him. Across from Al and Lysander, an unfamiliar boy and girl smiled at them cheerily. Lysander nudged Al with his elbow.

"Hufflepuffs," intoned Lysander to Al. "Irritatingly friendly. You could curse their nose off and they'd still shrug, smile, and shake your hand."

Professor Longbottom interrupted the two snickering with an introduction to the class. He talked about the sort of plants they'd be dealing with that term and what sort of things they ought to be doing in class.

Rosie paid strict attention, but Al and Lysander were busily flicking dirt at the Hufflepuffs. Rosie irritably shushed them every time they snorted with suppressed laughter; the two Hufflepuffs kept looking around for the source of the dirt-flicking with a slightly puzzled smile. Finally the practical work began and the mischievous duo had to pay attention as they learned how to care for the plant in front of them. The bell rang and they gathered their things and left.

"Honestly, I don't expect that Professor Longbottom was impressed with you two behaving in such an immature fashion," huffed Rosie. Lysander and Al ignored her admonishing with a good chortling over the two Hufflepuff’s amusing expressions.

None of them had a clue where Transfiguration was, either, but luckily for them Dominique Weasley happened to be in the Entrance Hall and told them where to go. They made it barely on time, and again out of breath.

This class was first year Gryffindors only. Al sat with Lysander, pulling out his textbook and his wand. He held his wand by the tips of his fingers with reverence; he hadn't actually used it yet, and he was feeling that familiar nervous excitement.

The teacher at the front of the room stood looking forbidding and cold. “Welcome to Transfiguration class. I am Professor Happyfeather. This class deals with serious, complex magical matters which cannot be taken lightly. Anyone here that is not mature enough to handle it can leave now.” She then took out her wand and Transformed a candlestick on her desk into a singing mockingbird, and everyone watched open mouthed as it flew around the room twittering before Happyfeather waved her wand and Vanished it.

Now the teacher had the entire class' rapt attention. Al had heard of Happyfeather from James. This Professor was the Head of Slytherin. James had complained in his letters about her biased treatment of those not of her house. Al was pretty sure that James had deserved whatever it was he’d gotten from her, though.

After Happyfeather made them write down the Course Aims written on the blackboard, she had them copy down the incantation for changing physical properties of objects. Al noticed Lysander zoning out and idly watching the clouds float by outside the window. Rosie was paying attention, admittedly with lackluster interest. He was surprised at them; sure, Happyfeather was a bit on the rough side, and theory might be boring, but this was good stuff they were getting into. Changing matches into needles! Cool.

Everyone snapped to attention when Happyfeather conjured matches for everyone. Picking up their wands, Happyfeather had them all try the incantation in pairs. There were low results all around; Rosie managed to make her match go shiny and smooth, and Happyfeather grudgingly told her it was a good start. Then she reached Al and Lysander, expectantly waiting. Lysander glanced at Al nervously.

Al lifted his wand, and time slowed down. In that moment, Al’s arm and wand became a single limb, extended and waving with precision and effortlessness. The incantation fell easily from Al’s lips and with a flick of his wand, silver shot up the match and it twisted a moment before becoming silver and pointed with a miniscule hole at the head for thread. Al picked it up, examining it; it was certainly not a match any longer.

Happyfeather took it from him, poked her finger with it, clearly surprised. Indeed, the match was now most decidedly a needle. Al was amazed at what had just happened. The other students all turned round to look at him, surprise and awe in their expressions by such a display of magic.

“Well,” Happyfeather said, astounded. “That was, ah, quite good spellwork, Potter. Take five points for Gryffindor. Everyone, did you pay attention to the boy’s wand movements? Precisely what I was talking about.”

Happyfeather returned him his needle and carried on to the black girl behind him. Lysander whistled and clapped him on the back. After everyone had tried it, only Rosie and Malfoy had managed to affect their match- Rosie's turned a shiny metallic hue, and Malfoy's match sharpened into a point at the end. Lysander and Al exchanged a smirk when the Professor told him he had the wand movement all wrong.

After class, Rosie walked alongside Al. "That was brilliant! Everyone was mesmerized by you. You're amazing at Transfiguration and it's only the first day. How did you do it?"

Al beamed at her. "I dunno. It just sort of happened. Professor Happyfeather told us how to do it and I understood what she was saying. I can't explain it, but... it felt great."

Lysander and Siobhan listened to him with impressed expressions. Al held his wand in his pocket tightly, smiling at his new found gift.

Next was a hurried lunch in the Great Hall before dashing about to find Charms. Charms was taught by an elderly, very short wizard with a squeaky voice named Flitwick. When Professor Flitwick reached Al’s name on the register, he said “Oho!” and peered at him excitedly. Flitwick informed him that he taught Al’s mum and dad twenty years ago and that Al did look just like his father. Al wasn’t sure what the appropriate response was and settled for, “Oh.”

Following Charms was Potions, held in the dungeons with the Slytherin first years. There, they met again with pompous Professor Macmillan. After lecturing for half an hour on the importance of following instructions and paying strict attention, Macmillan instructed them to try mixing a simple potion to reduce dizziness.

The class set to work, mixing essence of jellyfish and ground unicorn horn into their potions. Al and Lysander kept referring to their textbooks to make sure they were following it correctly. Next to them, Rosie and Siobhan were having a simple time of it, busily chopping up some sort of root. Al glanced at his textbook; they had ages to go until they had to add chopped valerian root!

“How are you doing it?” He asked Siobhan, just like Rosie had asked him the same thing after Transfiguration.

“Just follow the instructions! It’s easy.” Siobhan added the root to her potion, clearly in her element.

Al read through the instructions again, unsure if he’d put in three cups of monkshood or only two… he’d better put another, just in case. He added hellebore, continuously checking with the book to make sure he was doing everything right. The steam rising from all the cauldrons in the dungeon made it hard to see anything.

Half an hour later it was time to see how they did. Macmillan walked around the room, giving instruction where it was needed. He told Scorpius Malfoy that he had stirred his too much and it was now far too runny. When he reached Lysander and Al, he told them that their potions weren’t bad but it looked like their measurements of ingredients had been off. Al was a little put out at these mediocre results. Potions wasn’t even really real magic after all.

“What have we here!” Macmillan exclaimed. Al turned around to see him hovering over Siobhan’s potion. “It looks like you followed the instructions to the letter. Excellent job! Look here, everyone, see how the potion is a perfect pale green?”

Al looked at it. It was a rather nice pale green. He saw Scorpius glaring at her and Al was satisfied that she’d beaten him at it.

Macmillan continued. “Yes, you did just the right amount of stirring and added all the right ingredients. What’s your name, young lady?”

Al was afraid Siobhan might stutter with all the Gryffindors and Slytherins looking at her, but he need not worry; Siobhan spoke without falter.

“I'm Siobhan Finnigan.”

“Miss Finnigan, take five points for your excellent attention skills,” Professor Macmillan said pompously. Al gave Siobhan a thumbs up. She smiled at him. Macmillan moved on to Rosie’s, awarding her a point for doing well on her potion, too. Rosie grinned at them.

When the bell rang, the first years crowded to get out the door. “I wonder where the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom is?” Siobhan asked out loud.

“I don’t know, Finnigan, maybe you ought to use your excellent attention skills to find it,” a sneering voice said behind them. The four of them turned around. It was Scorpius Malfoy and his mate McLaggen.

“Oh, get lost, Malfoy, you’re just jealous her potion was better then yours,” Rosie said snidely.

Malfoy’s face grew pink. “I'm surprised you're not upset, now that you’ve been beaten in two classes already. My father told me your mother was a know-it-all, and that you'd inherited the trait.”

“Yeah? Well your father was on the Dark Side, so I’d watch whose parents you insult,” Al said angrily. Malfoy opened his mouth furiously to retort.

“Fighting, boys?” It was Professor Macmillan at the dungeon entrance, narrowing his eyes at them. Al and Malfoy stepped back from each other.

“No, sir,” they said simultaneously.

“Good. Now get to class, the lot of you. It wouldn’t do to be late,” Macmillan said.

The four of them hurried off, leaving Malfoy and McLaggen behind them. The other first year Gryffindors had disappeared in search of their next class. Ten minutes later they were hurrying along a corridor, completely lost.

“The classroom is on the fourth floor and I’m sure we’re still on the fifth floor,” Al said, looking around.

Just then a cackling voice spoke out from somewhere above them. “Are the ickle firsties lost?”

Suddenly, a small man floating cross-legged in the air appeared, holding an armful of ink pellets. He had wicked dark eyes and a wide mouth, giving the idea of a trickster; Al was sure he wouldn’t give them helpful directions. He was reminiscent of a ghost, but was not quite transparent enough. Al puzzled over this for a moment before Rosie answered his unspoken query.

“You’re the Hogwarts poltergeist,” she said, stepping back.

“Peevsie is the name, trouble is the game,” the poltergeist said in a sing-song voice, floating along upside down. He whooshed suddenly over their head, tossing a couple of ink pellets their way. Al ducked it and it smashed on the stone by his feet.

Peeves threw ink pellets at the paintings as if they were dart boards, causing their occupants to exclaim angrily and dodge the missiles, then flew off down the staircase, wheezing with laughter. The three of them looked around at the mess in dismay.

"What's a poltergeist?" Lysander wanted to know. "Because I don't think I like them."

Rosie opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted.

“What is this? Why is there ink all over the corridor?” An angry voice came from down the hallway. Al turned to see an irate-looking man in simple black robes striding down the corridor towards them, exclaiming at all the ink.

“It wasn’t us, sir…” Lysander began immediately.

“It was Peeves, sir, the Poltergeist…” Rosie attempted to explain.

“Peeves! Rubbish, I just saw him on the fourth floor. Think you’d make your mark, did you? Desecrate the school a little extra to start off the year? Detention for the lot of you! As if I didn’t have enough work as sole caretaker of such a huge castle. I say, what’s your name?” he added suddenly, looking at Al.

“Albus Potter,” Al told him.

The man’s eyes widened a little. “Oh! You’re Potter’s son! That explains a lot. He was always getting into a spot of trouble at school. You’re just like him, then. Look like him too. I’m Gregory Stuart, I was a Hufflepuff in his year. All right, then?”

Al looked at him. “Uh, well, we’re lost, sir, can’t seem to find the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.”

“Oh, can’t you? Easy enough to find, just down these here stairs and on to the left.” Mr. Stuart paused. “You lot carry on right quick and we’ll call off them detentions. Right out of my mind lately, this is clearly Peeves’ style of mischief. Carry on then.”

Unbelieving of their luck, the four of them hurried down the stairs, mumbling their thanks to Mr. Stuart.

“Well,” Lysander said finally. Siobhan and Rosie looked at him sideways.

Al felt a little self conscious. “Just because my dad is famous, doesn’t mean I ought to get special treatment or anything. Mr. Stuart was right to call off the detentions, though, since we didn’t do it,” Al added.

“Yeah, he was,” Rosie said. “Hey, we don’t care. You’re still just Al to us.”

Al was relieved.

They descended the stairs, pausing only a moment when Siobhan accidentally sunk into the trick-step on the stairs. Soon, they were filing into a certain Professor Jones’ classroom.

The Professor stood at her desk and waited for the truants to be seated before taking register and starting class. It was a fairly interesting class; there was little done with their wands during the lesson, but Professor Jones reassured them that a large portion of the course would be practical. They copied down a lot of notes and Professor Jones discussed with them the sort of Dark Arts they’d be learning to defend against.

Al knew that Professor Jones was an old colleague of his dad’s- she came round to dinner sometimes. A lot of people knew his dad, really. However, when the bell rang for end of classes that day, Al thought it was a good day and decided not to mention in his letter to his parents about the incident with Mr. Stuart.

The remainder of the week was pretty much the same thing as the first day. Apart from the classes on Monday, they also had History of Magic, and Astronomy at midnight on Wednesday. History of Magic was taught by a very old ghost, Professor Binns, and that was the only interesting part of the lesson. He droned on about old goblin wars and Al spent the class trying to pay attention and take good notes, but Rosie was really the only one who managed it. Astronomy was spent at the top of the Astronomy tower, looking through their telescopes and writing down the positions of stars and the moon. It was kind of interesting, but Al’s favorite class was quickly becoming Transfiguration.

Over the next Transfiguration lessons, Al found that he understood the concepts easily and mastered the spellwork effortlessly. Happyfeather was stymied by his quick learning; she spent a little extra time with him trying to challenge his apparent talent with this branch of magic. Al met each challenge easily- he needed only be taught once or twice what to do and he found he could understand it and then do it.

Rosie and Scorpius were the only ones who were close to as good as he was. Happyfeather told Al that his wand was built for Transfiguration, which he already knew; the old wandmaker had told him that when he bought his wand in August.

When it was time on Friday afternoon to go visit Hagrid, Al had no Transfiguration homework to do. He and Lysander set out across the lawn for the wooden hut by the Forbidden Forest around tea time, with Rosie distinctly irate with Lysander for ‘going off visiting’ instead of doing homework. Siobhan chose to stay with Rosie to get help with her Transfiguration.

Hagrid and his dog, a brown and black boar hound named Scar, welcomed them at the door cheerfully. The three had tea out of giant teacups and Al told Hagrid all about their first week.

“So I hear yer righ’ good at Transfiguration, are yeh?” Hagrid nodded approvingly. “Yer granddad was too. Yeh take after him, I reckon.”

“He’s not just good, he’s brilliant,” put in Lysander. “He can do anything Happyfeather presents him with. It’s got her in a right state. She never would have thought a first year could possibly be so good with so little teaching, I expect.”

Hagrid clapped Al on the back, making him choke on his tea. “Good on yeh! That’s a Potter kid for yeh.”

Scar sat at Al’s feet as he regained his breath, drooling a bit on his shoes.

“Now what I reckon I want to see,” Hagrid said thoughtfully, “Is how yeh do with yer flyin’ lessons.”

“Flying lessons?” said Al, having regained his breath. “What do you mean?”

“Well, yer dad was righ’ brilliant at flying, an’ so was yer grandad. Yeh take after ‘em. Yer brother, he takes after yer mum’s side. I reckon I want to see yeh on a broom.”

Al felt a little self conscious. “I’ll probably be no good.”

Hagrid shook his head. “Yeh look loads like yer dad.. yeh have the right build fer a seeker. I’d bet yeh got his seeker skills, too. James, yer brother, he doesn’ have the talent. Bu’ yeh, Al… I reckon yeh just migh’.”

Al and Lysander left the hut later, pockets weighed down with Hagrid’s specialty rock-hard cakes. Back in the common room, Rosie was helping Siobhan with her wand movements for Transfiguration. From what Al could tell there was some improvement; Siobhan’s match was now glinting silver. After watching a minute, Al said,

“Listen, Rosie, I’ll help Siobhan, and you can do your homework.”

Al guided Siobhan patiently through the work until she was reasonably sure of herself. He let her finish the homework on her own and sat by himself to write another letter to his parents.

He wrote them all about his day and how his lessons were going. He mentioned visiting Hagrid and how much he loved the food and his dormitory. Al was glad James didn't hang out with him, for he would probably make fun of Al for writing his parents the third time that week.

Al and Lysander finished their work around the same time and went up to the dormitories together, saying goodnight to everyone. In the dorm, Louis was running around getting ready for bed, chattering away. Malfoy and McLaggen were in there as well (and in Malfoy’s case, frowning) and sticking to their side of the dorm.

“Quite a good day, huh, Al? I thought it was. Free afternoon, just great, wasn’t it? I can’t wait for the weekend. Today was really good, don’t you think? Lots of free time.” Louis followed Al around as he put away his stuff, chattering away. Al felt it would be unkind to ask Louis to leave him alone. “Did you write your parents? I wrote mum and dad a great big letter. I can’t wait for the weekend. I think I’ll walk around, maybe do homework. Did you do your homework today? I didn’t. Did you think today was good, Al? I did. It was really good.”

“For the love of God, shut up,” Malfoy snapped at him. Louis fell silent instantly.

Not another word was spoken as the boys all climbed into their beds, darkness settling into the tower room. Al’s last thought before falling asleep was that he was rather relieved Malfoy made Louis stop talking. That boy was entirely too talkative for anyone’s sanity.