Chapter 3: Settling In
The next morning, I woke up to the soft light filtering through the windows of the Gryffindor dormitory. My heart raced with excitement as I dressed in my new Hogwarts robes and made my way down to the common room, where students were already buzzing about the day's lessons. The room was warm and inviting, with its plush chairs and roaring fireplace. I felt a sense of belonging, as if this was where I was always meant to be.
In the Great Hall, breakfast was a lively affair. Platters of food appeared magically on the tables, and the ceiling above us mirrored the bright morning sky. I joined Ron, Hermione, and Neville, who were already deep in conversation.
"First day of classes!" Hermione said, practically vibrating with excitement. "I can't wait to start learning magic properly."
Ron groaned, pouring syrup over a stack of pancakes. "Yeah, if we survive McGonagall's class. Fred and George say she's tough."
I smiled at their banter, feeling a pang of nostalgia for my previous life where I had read these scenes with such fascination. Now, I was living them.
We received our timetables from Professor McGonagall, who handed them out with her usual stern demeanor. Our first class was with the infamous Potions Master, Severus Snape. My stomach twisted in anticipation, knowing what awaited us.
We made our way to the dungeons, the air growing cooler and damper with each step. The Potions classroom was dimly lit, filled with the scent of various ingredients and the quiet hum of brewing cauldrons.
Snape swept into the room, his black robes billowing behind him. His eyes scanned the room, lingering momentarily on Harry, who sat next to me.
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," Snape began, his voice silky and dangerous. "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…"
His gaze fell on Harry again, and I could see the malice in his eyes. "Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Harry blinked, clearly taken aback. "I don't know, sir."
"Tsk, tsk. Fame clearly isn't everything," Snape sneered. "Let's try again. Evans! What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
My heart skipped a beat. I knew the answer, but I had to be careful not to attract too much attention. "They are the same plant, sir. Also known as aconite."
Snape's eyebrows rose slightly, a flicker of interest crossing his face. "Correct. Five points to Gryffindor."
The rest of the lesson was tense but manageable. We worked on a simple Boil-Cure Potion, and while Harry and Ron struggled, Hermione and I managed to get ours just right. Snape, however, continued to favor the Slytherins, and it was clear he had a particular vendetta against Harry.
After Potions, we had Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall. She was strict but fair, and her lessons were fascinating. We spent the class trying to turn matchsticks into needles. Hermione succeeded almost immediately, earning a rare smile from McGonagall. I managed to get my matchstick to change color, but it remained stubbornly matchstick-shaped.
"Not bad, Mr. Evans," McGonagall said, inspecting my attempt. "Keep practicing."
The rest of the day passed in a whirlwind of new experiences. Charms with Professor Flitwick was delightful; his enthusiasm was infectious, and I quickly found myself enjoying the lessons. In Herbology, we potted some very energetic mandrakes, and in History of Magic, Professor Binns' droning voice nearly put me to sleep.
By the time dinner rolled around, I was exhausted but exhilarated. I joined my friends at the Gryffindor table, where we exchanged stories about our day. Harry and Ron were still grumbling about Snape, while Hermione was eager to discuss our homework assignments.
"Do you think Snape's always going to be like that?" Harry asked, poking at his roast chicken.
"Probably," I said, choosing my words carefully. "But we just have to do our best and not let him get to us."
Ron sighed. "Easier said than done. He seems to have it out for you, Harry."
As we talked, I couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding. I knew the challenges and dangers that lay ahead for Harry, and by extension, for all of us. My knowledge of the future was both a blessing and a curse. I had to tread carefully, balancing my desire to help with the need to let events unfold naturally.
That night, back in the Gryffindor common room, I sat by the fire, lost in thought. Hermione was already buried in her textbooks, and Ron and Harry were playing a game of wizard chess. I watched them, feeling a deep sense of camaraderie. These were my friends now, and I was determined to stand by them, no matter what.
As the fire crackled and the shadows danced on the walls, I made a silent vow. I would use my knowledge to protect my friends and change the course of events where I could. The road ahead was uncertain and fraught with danger, but together, we would face whatever came our way.
With a newfound resolve, I joined Ron and Harry at the chessboard, ready to face the adventures that awaited us at Hogwarts. The magical world was full of wonder and peril, but I was no longer a mere observer. I was a participant, and I was ready to make my mark.