14: Classes

[3rd Pov]

"Then again, maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possession of abilities so formidable that you feel confident enough to not...pay...attention," said Snape, approaching Harry.

With a grin on his face, the boy calmly looked at the Potions professor, who was staring at him with an unreadable gaze.

"Mr. Potter. Our new celebrity. Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Snape asks.

Hermione, who was sitting beside Harry, hearing the professor's question, immediately raises her hand. Not only her but also a raven-haired girl, who was paired up with Hope.

Without breaking eye contact, Harry shrugs at the question.

"You don't know? Well, let's try again. Where, Mr. Potter, would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?"

Once more, Harry just shrugs, "I don't know... sir," he says.

"And what is the difference between monkshood and wolfbane?"

"I can't seem to remember... sir. You better ask Hermione, she seems to know," answers the Potter boy, this time, with a cheeky smirk.

Snape leans his body over Harry's table, the unreadable expression on his face no long. Instead, with a clear look of fake sympathy on his face, he says, "Pity. Clearly, fame isn't everything..."

The classroom was silent, with every single student observing the confrontation between the professor and the student. Alaric, however, was uninterested in the frivolous clash. Instead, he was entertaining himself by reading his classmates' minds, delving only into their surface thoughts, not wanting to alert the greased bat of a professor that was teaching potions.

Said professor was thinking of ways to teach the rebellious student in front of him. He looked around the classroom, ignoring the girls with their hands raised. His gaze stopped on a silver-haired boy, who appeared to be disconnected from the class. He strode across the classroom, coming to a halt in from of the student.

"Mr. Grindelwald, another star of this year," said Snape. "Tell me, do you know the answers to the questions I just asked Mr. Potter?"

Alaric, who was still trying to figure out who fancied who in the room, without using too much legilimency, quickly looked at Snape, startled. As surprised as he was, he didn't show it on his face, looking calmly at the dark-robbed man in front of him. 'Thank Merlin for Occlumency' he thought.

He quickly recalled the questions, before answering, "Asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful, it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite," he said without stuttering or missing a vocal.

Snape, who looked mildly impressed, says, "Five points for Slytherin," He then turns around to look at the quiet class, "Well?" he says to the students. "Why aren't you all copying this down?"

The students swiftly obey Snape, who in turn sits, before dipping his quill in ink to write. "Also, five points from Gryffindor... for your housemate's jest,"

__________

[Alaric's Pov]

There was little to say about the first class. I'm pretty sure I can concoct the cure for boils we had to make while sleep-walking.

While Professor Snape is terrible at teaching, he's, without a doubt, a master potion maker. The simplicity but perfection of his movements, the ingredients measured to the minute detail, and the attention with which he makes the potions are enough evidence to prove his skills.

The next day, after explaining to Blaise and Theodore the importance of physical conditioning to a wizard, both of them followed me in my daily exercise routine. The two had paid little to no attention to their stamina and physique, and it showed, as they barely kept up with me, even after I tone the intensity a little.

I didn't really blame them. Only after one of our tutors explained to me and my sister the difference between a physically adept wizard and one not, did we understand its importance.

Cleaning ourselves and dressing in proper robes, we went down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

As always, apart from the Slytherin students, most would immediately put some distance between me and them the moment they spotted me.

It took only two days for Lysandra's reputation and mine to become complete opposites. While my sister would go out of her way to greet and enjoy friendly talks with most students, I didn't bother with that at all. Apparently, there were already rumors that Lys was adopted, as it wouldn't make sense for a Gellert Grindelwald's descendent to be so friendly and kind.

It's funny, in a certain way. They had never even approached me, let alone talk. Most of them were yet to know the sound of my voice, yet they assembled theories that I already was a Dark Lord, and was just waiting to strike.

'It's better this way.' I thought. I would rather shoulder the burden alone for now than make her help me.

I had the whole first year to prove to these naive little wizards that I was much more than my name, and to show them that, if pushed, I could be as terrifying as my grandfather.

Following a quiet but enjoyable breakfast, I and my two friends went to the transfiguration classroom. Quietly entering, we sat in the front row.

The classroom was big, surrounded by high windows, had four rows of three desks, and still had enough room for several cages and bookshelves, two golden cat statues, two chalkboards, and a desk for the professor. Several candlesticks stood lit behind the desk.

On top of the desk, I noticed a cat with a lot of magical particles floating around her, especially gray ones, which symbolize transfiguration. A cat plus transfiguration can only mean one thing.

"What are you doing?" whispered Blaise, seeing me getting up from my seat. With a smirk, I stepped closer to the 'cat', before petting it. The cast nestled his head on my hand, purring a bit.

"Cute," I said.

All of a sudden, the cat's eyes shot open, before trying to swipe my hand away. I promptly dodged with my arm, before turning back to walk to my sit, while cackling.

"Fiesty~", I muttered, loud enough for the not-so-cute-anymore cat to hear.

Some moments later, while the cat was still glaring at me, Lysandra, Hope, and Hermione enter the class, before sitting on the opposite desk to mine. I just smile at my sister, before continuing the staring contest I was having with the cat.

While the class was supposed to have started, neither the professor nor Harry nor Ron was present. While I was thinking of ways to win the ongoing contest, steps echoed in the hallway, before two students burst through the door running, panting, as if they had run a marathon.

At that moment, the 'cat' broke eye contact with me, before jumping off the desk and transforming into Professor McGonagall. This caused most students to be slack-jawed, especially Blaise and Theodore, who were sitting beside me.

Both had watched how I had petted the cat form of the Professor and were staring at me as if I was a criminal.

"That was bloody brilliant," muttered the Weasley.

"Thank you for that assessment, Mr. Weasley. Perhaps if I were to transfigure Mr. Potter and yourself into a pocketwatch, that way one of you might be on time," responded Professor McGonagall, who was looking at me from the corner of her eyes, the stern expression never leaving her face.

I chuckled, and the witch responded with a snort, continuing to make threats to the late duo.

The class continued, and the professor had us, after explaining the transformation formula, a branch of transfiguration, turn a match into a silver needle.

I quickly completed the task, being the first one to do it, much to the displeasure of a bush-haired girl. I turned to the people beside me and behind me, before helping them and explaining the optimal way to achieve transformation.

After probably forgetting about the episode at the beginning of the class, McGonagall approached me and inspected the silver needle present on my table. The purpose of the task was to turn the wood match into a simple needle.

I, however, added some complex engravings to it, earning me an acknowledgment nod from her. "Five points to Slytherin," she said, before continuing to examine some of the silver needles of other students.

__________

The rest of the week, I kept the same routine. Waking up before the sun was up to exercise, having breakfast with Blaise and Theodore, and sometimes with Daphne and Tracey. Having classes and, of course, excelling in every single one of them.

Charms, taught by the half-goblin Flitwick, was rather easy. Most of the charms we were learning were simple ones, which I could already cast wandlessly at the age of 7. Nevertheless, the professor was one of the most engaging ones and was rather generous with the points given.

Herbology was never my forte, but I still stood out from the rest. The same for Astronomy. Never quite understood its uses. And History of Magic, I wasn't sure if I would make it alive after the incessant ramblings from Professor Bins about goblins.

The most interesting one was undoubtedly, Defence Against the Dark Arts. The class reeked of garlic, and the stuttering from the professor made actually learning something impossible. His probably made up stories about vampires and the weird turban only served as a distraction from the class.

Normally, I would probably rant about Professor Quirrel, yet, I didn't. The factor that made me anticipate his classes was the rather ominous magic that would sometimes leek out from the back of his head. Probably due to the distance, I didn't notice this in the Great Hall.

However, if that wasn't enough, the magic that would occasionally slip out of his turban had too many similarities to Harry's scar to be a coincidence.

With that rhythm, the days continued to pass, and the weather started to grow colder.

We eventually had our first flying class with Gryffindor. I had a lot of experience flying on a broom since I and Lysandra would play quidditch a lot in our castle's courtyard. Even so, during said class, a rather chubby Lion's student lost control of the broom and ended up in the infirmary.

This led to a clash between Malfoy and Harry over the boy's remembrall. I had no sympathy for the Potter Boy, but I did have hate for the Malfoy family, and subsequently, their little offspring that thought he was the king of the world.

In the end, I ended up cursing Draco's broom, which crashed against the castle walls, earning the infirmary another patient.

McGonagall apparently witnessed the whole event, and after Harry caught the magic artifact, he was chosen as this year's Gryffindor seeker, which caused a major uproar in the castle.

I, on the other hand, was slowly building my image up in Hogwarts. With the constant results in the classes and the magical prowess I showed, I quickly distinguish myself from my peers.

It also helped me gain the favor of most teachers, especially Flitwick. The half-goblin was jubilant with the complexity of the charms I could cast, and would often challenge me to cast harder and harder spells. I, of course, flawlessly performed them, scoring more and more points for the house in his class.

Lysandra told me that, after requesting Madam Pomfrey, the school's matron, for extra classes, the witch happily accepted, overjoyed at the prospect of having an apprentice in the healing arts.

The occurrence in the first Transfiguration class helped break the ice between me and Professor McGonagall, and she eventually lost the initial fear she had of me. Seeing as I was someone gifted in transfiguration, the witch started having tea sessions with me, where we would talk about new transfiguration formulas and applications.

And with that, Halloween came.

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A/N: The last exam was today, so I'll have about a month time free. Expect a chapter daily.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter!