4

Chapter 4: The First Classes

Nathan, after taking a wrong turn in the corridor leading back from the Owlery, entered the Great Hall late for breakfast. He spotted his friends and went to take a seat by them, failing to notice a pair of dark eyes observing his every move.

"Hey, Nathan! Where were you? You're late!" asked Kevin the moment he joined them.

"I went to the Owlery to send a letter to my mum and got a little lost."

"How did you find the Owlery?" asked Josephina, a fellow first-year with long, black hair and green eyes.

"Oh, I asked some third year boy," he answered. "I can't remember his name."

He served himself some eggs and buttered a piece of toast. "Can you pass me the juice, please?" he asked Kevin, and thanked the boy before serving himself a goblet.

They chatted animatedly for a while before Professor Lupin, their Head of House and Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, approached with their timetables.

"Here you go, Nathan," he said, handing him the parchment.

"Thank you, Professor," Nathan said with a smile.

He had heard many stories about Remus Lupin when he was younger. He knew the teacher was a werewolf and a good friend of Harry. He was also a war hero for his role in the Order of the Phoenix, fighting against Voldemort. Nathan had met Lupin once before, when he visited Harry on his godfather's birthday.

Their first class was double Potions and soon the conversation around him turned to Professor Snape.

"I heard he is really nasty with Gryffindors," a girl commented.

"My brother said he killed a student because he exploded a cauldron in class! He was a Death Eater, you know," added another girl, and all the students listening widened their eyes, save for one - Nathan - who started laughing.

A third year who was listening as well stared at Nathan in disbelief. "Do you think it's funny?" he asked in a reprimanding voice. "I don't know about the student that exploded a cauldron, but he definitely killed the previous Headmaster."

"Oh, I know that!" Nathan assured them, and nonchalantly returned to his breakfast. When he felt the students still staring at him in disbelief, he raised an eyebrow and asked, "What?"

"What?" repeated Kevin. "You knew we'd be having classes with a murderer and you think it's funny?"

"Well, he's not really a murderer," Nathan said.

"That, I don't know, but I really don't want to be late for his class. Have you finished, Nathan?" said Andy, getting up from his seat at the table.

"Quite," was Nathan's answer, shoving a last piece of buttered toast in his mouth and getting up from his seat as well.

The group headed to the dungeons, where the Potions classes were held. They entered the classroom and found some Slytherins already there. They took their seats and waited.

Minutes later, Professor Snape entered the classroom and the door banged loudly, making some students jump in their seats. With his black robes billowing after him, he went to the desk at the front of the room and took his seat behind it. Without a glance at the students, he started taking the roll call, pausing when he read Nathan's name to look at the boy, and also at Malfoy's, for the same reason. Snape finished calling the names and finally looked up at the whole class.

"You're here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. "I have lost my hope, after thirty years of classes filled with dunderheads, that any one student, let alone an entire class, will understand the beauty of a simmering cauldron and the magic lying within."

The silence was absolute in the room after he finished his speech. Not a student had taken their eyes off the Potions master, and they followed him as he left his table and started walking between the desks.

"Granger!" he said suddenly. "What's the difference between Doxy eggs and Biting Fairy eggs?"

"None, sir. Doxies and Biting Fairies are the same creature. They can be found in magical forests and their bite is mildly venomous; their eggs are ingredients for the antidote," Nathan explained to an astonished class. The only one that seemed unimpressed with the answer was Professor Snape.

"So, you are an insufferable know-it-all just like your mother," he commented. "Can I presume that you've already read the textbook from cover to cover?"

"Twice, sir."

The brat! he thought, then smirked and said aloud, "Well, then I must warn you that despite all the knowledge you memorized from the book, it won't be enough for your success in my class, Mr. Granger."

Nathan smiled at him and answered calmly, "I know, sir."

Snape narrowed his eyes at the smiling boy in front of him. What's wrong with this brat? he thought, and then addressed the class in general.

"Open your books to page sixteen and prepare to brew the potion. I want a phial with a sample of the disasters you create on my desk at the end of this class."

He gave then some information on the anti-boils potion they were to make as they proceeded to prepare ingredients, adding them one by one to their cauldrons. Snape swept around the classroom, watching every move, terrorizing every student with his dark, stern presence. He criticized everyone, even the Slytherins, but took points only from Gryffindors.

The only one that seems to be enjoying the class was Nathan, much to Snape's annoyance. He stopped behind the Gryffindor and stayed there for longer than he did the others. Not a flinch, not a trembling hand, not a hesitation when he cleared his throat… just smiles and… giggles?

He's giggling! Snape couldn't avoid the frown that creased his forehead in disgust. How dare he!

"Is there something amusing about your potion, Mr. Granger?" he snarled.

"No, sir."

"So, were you laughing at me, then?" he said softly, in a most dangerous tone of voice.

Oh, oh! He had to think fast. "Never, sir. I was just remembering something funny and—" he managed, before being interrupted.

"Five points from Gryffindor for lack of attention in brewing, Mr. Granger!" Snape hissed before the boy could finish his excuse. "And the rest of you, back to work!" Snape snapped at the others, who had stopped to listen to the exchange.

The class was extremely quiet after that. Nobody else wanted to attract the wrath of the Potions master. They turned in their phials at the end of the lesson and left the dungeons as quickly as possible except Nathan, who took his time collecting his things. Snape stared at the back of the finally-retreating Gryffindor with an unreadable expression on his face.

In the halls, the first-years were talking about their impressions of their first potions class, whilst heading for the Defense classroom.

"The man is a terrorist!" said Andy. "He keeps prowling around like a beast ready to swoop in and attack."

"He's creepy," added Josephina quietly.

That was when Nathan caught up with them. Kevin looked at him curiously.

"What were you laughing about, anyway?" he asked.

"Nothing really, I was actually remembering something funny my mother had said to me once," Nathan answered, and couldn't suppress smirking with the thought.

"You're strange sometimes," admitted Kevin.

The truth was, Nathan had been laughing at Snape, or, more accurately, at what his mother had once told him about Snape. The Potions master did everything she said he would do: asked a difficult question, reprimanded Nathan for knowing the answer, and hovered about trying to intimidate and confuse him, becoming angry when he was unable to do so. It was too much not to laugh!

He did enjoy the lesson, though. Potion-making was one of the few magical things his mother had taught him, and he loved brewing healing concoctions with her. Everything Professor Snape had said was fascinating.

Some wrong corridors and stairs later, the group reached the Defense classroom just in time for the beginning of the lesson. Professor Lupin was already at the front of the room waiting for the last students to take their seats.

The professor waved his wand, and his named appeared on the blackboard. Then, he said, "Good morning, class! I'm Professor Lupin and I'll be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Moving to the front of his desk, Professor Lupin proceeded, "We should begin with what's considered Dark Arts and what's not. Who can tell me the name of a Dark Curse?"

Since the fall of Voldemort more than a decade ago, the Dark Arts were not a subject of hall conversation, and few knew about Dark Curses anymore, so no one volunteered an answer. Then, Professor Lupin called, "Nathan?"

"The Cruciatus Curse, sir," he provided.

"Correct! Five points to Gryffindor," said Lupin. And then asked of him, "Why is this a Dark Curse, Nathan?"

"It's one of the three Unforgivables. It targets the nervous system of the victim, causing severe pain and ultimately irreversible brain damage; it also demands the caster to really desire to cause the pain," he finished.

"Very good, Nathan. Five more points to Gryffindor. The feeling behind the curse is what makes it Dark Arts; it demands something of the caster," he explained. "Does anyone else know of another one?"

Devon Malfoy was now eyeing Nathan with mild interest. He didn't think the boy would know anything about the Dark Arts. His father had taught him some of it, and he, too, knew all about the Unforgivables. Devon lifted his hand.

"Yes, Devon," said Lupin.

"The Imperius Curse, sir," he said and added without waiting to be asked, "and it's also one of the Unforgivables."

"Correct! Five points to Slytherin," said Lupin. "The Imperius Curse is used to command the victim to do anything asked by the caster. The last Unforgivable, since we're talking about them, is the Killing Curse. The first two curses mentioned can be countered, but not the Killing Curse," he added.

A hand flipped into the air, and Professor Lupin addressed the owner. "Yes, Josephina?"

"If the Killing Curse can't be countered, how did Harry Potter survive You-Know-Who's attack?" she asked.

"Well, Harry Potter was protected by his mother's love, because she died to save him. It was a very special occurrence," he answered.

They continue to discuss what was and what was not considered Dark Arts, and soon the lesson was over. They bid farewell to Professor Lupin and headed to the Great Hall for lunch.

At the Gryffindor table, the first years sat together and talked about the classes they had been to so far.

"How do you know all the answers to the teachers' questions?" urged Kevin, serving himself a sandwich from a large platter.

"Yeah, and where did you learn all those things about Dark Curses?" added Andy.

"Oh, it's nothing really. I must have read about it in a book or something," he said dismissively, but then stopped and added, "No. I think my mum told me about the curses... or Uncle Harry did. I can't recall."

"Oh, of course! You were raised by heroes," mocked Andy.

"What about that Slytherin, Malfoy?" asked Adam, a Muggle-born fellow first-year. "He knew a lot about the Dark Arts too."

"Well, his family is known for their involvement with the Dark Arts," said Andy. "They're a very traditional wizarding family. Purebloods."

"If everybody knows they perform Dark Arts, why don't they arrest them?" Adam asked.

"Because nobody could ever prove it," Nathan said. "But there's nothing wrong with knowing about Dark Arts, as long as you don't use it. I don't think Malfoy would have ever cast a Dark Curse," he added.

They finished their meal and left the castle for Greenhouse One, where they would have their first Herbology lesson.

The afternoon classes were all exciting, except for History of Magic. Though the subject was interesting, its ghost teacher, Professor Binns, was really boring.

After dinner, Nathan and the other boys headed to the Common Room, where they sat in chairs near the fireplace. Some boys were playing wizard chess, while others were playing Exploding Snap, and some were having quiet conversations.

After a while, and with heavy eyes, Nathan bid goodnight to his friends and climbed the spiral staircase towards his dormitory. He changed into his pajamas, lay down on his bed, and was asleep in no time. His first day of classes had been both exciting and tiring, and the first of many others that were yet to come, for he had seven years ahead of him before his graduation day.