Chapter - 40 : Navigating Hogwarts

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I quickly learned that it was extremely lucky I was good with directions. Hogwarts seemed designed to torture those who weren't. Aside from the sheer size of the place, there were secret passages that led all over, some hidden, some not. The staircases were another hazard. Some of them moved, some of them had trick steps, and some of them led someplace different every Friday.

Peeves was also a problem. We quickly learned that the Peeves we'd heard the ghosts complaining about was the castle poltergeist. He was a horror if you ran into him and you were late. He would drop trash cans, throw water balloons, and stalk you down the halls, making your life as miserable as he possibly could.

Argus Filch was the caretaker, and he was just as bad. He watched us constantly, like he was certain we were breaking a rule at every moment, he just couldn't quite figure out which one. He was followed with a tabby cat with lamp-like eyes named Mrs. Norris, who I swore could peer into my soul.

Thank god for the ghosts and the portraits. If you asked politely, most of them would take pity on us first years and give us directions. A couple of the paintings, however, were nowhere near so helpful. Daphne made the mistake of asking a squire for directions one day. As it turned out, that squire was a staunch Gryffindor who sent her in the exact opposite direction when he saw the Slytherin crest on her robes.

I watched in awe as the older students navigated around the castle no-problem, totally immersed in their conversations and not paying a bit of attention to where they were. I had to concentrate and constantly trace my path through my mental map of the castle to have a prayer of getting to class on time.

And the classes themselves were another challenge.

Professor McGonagall, as I found out, was head of Gryffindor house. She taught Transfiguration, and took it very seriously. Stern, but fair, was the best way to describe her. I was, however, a bit cross with her when she introduced us to the subject by turning her desk into a pig with a deft flick of her wand. However, then she gave us several minutes of notes and told us to turn a matchstick into a needle. It was rather underwhelming.

Astronomy was rather interesting. I knew a lot of the stories of the constellations, and it was interesting to watch them move through the sky. However, it was a lot of charts, which was rather boring. Not to mention that we had to troop up to the Astronomy Tower at midnight, which wasn't fun and made classes the next day less than enjoyable.

But by far the award for most boring class was History of Magic. Professor Binns was the only ghost teacher. He simply droned on and on, leaving us to take our notes – or, more likely, not. A lot of us used his class to catch up on homework for other classes or to snag a quick nap in the middle of the day. I was one of the few who bothered to take notes mostly because I knew I was horrible with dates and I didn't have a prayer of passing the class if I didn't.

Charms was alright. It was taught by Professor Flitwick, a tiny old wizard who needed a stack of books to see over the top of his desk. He was the head of Ravenclaw house. In his classes we tended not to take too many notes in that class – probably due at least in part to the fact that Flitwick couldn't reach his blackboard.

Herbology was interesting. The magical plants we studied were like nothing I'd ever seen in the gardens of Privet Drive, which wasn't surprising. Some of them actively tried to kill us whenever we stepped into the greenhouses behind the castle. At the very least, now I knew why my supplies list said work gloves. Some plants secreted poison, some of them bit, and some of them had stinging nettles. This class was taught by the head of Hufflepuff, Professor Sprout.

I'd been excited for Defense Against the Dark Arts, as had the rest of my year mates. However, Quirrell turned out to be a joke. I should have guessed from his twitchy demeanor. It seemed like he was terrified of his own subject. He stammered through lectures, sometimes so badly it was hard to understand enough to take notes.

Friday was our first lesson with our head of house. As we had breakfast, we discussed what his class might be like.

"My cousin told me that so long as you at least make an effort, he'll give us passing grades," Parkinson smiled. She cast a superior glance towards the Gryffindor table. They shared the double period with us this morning. Bulstrode followed her gaze and gave a savage smile.

"Wonder how many points they'll lose before the period's over?"

"If Snape's as horrible as I've heard… all of them," I said. Lily chuckled and Tracey laughed into her porridge. Even Parkinson cracked a smile.

Daphne nodded in satisfaction. "Good, they're already beating us by a few points. It's your brother's fault," she added to me.

"Favoritism for the Boy-Who-Lived," Parkinson sneered.

I shrugged. "I didn't defeat Voldemort."

They all looked at me in awe. I quickly rewound what I'd said and realized I'd used his name.

"You said it," Tracey said, looking vaguely awed.

"I did," I nodded. I gave a shrug. "I hadn't even heard the name until a few months before I started. My aunt and uncle lied about how my parents died. They said it was a car crash."

Parkinson snorted. "What a Muggle way to die."

I snorted. "I'm pretty sure a car crash would kill you too, Parkinson, witch or not."

Just then, he mail flooded in. The arrival of hundreds of owls the first day had made me flinch and recoil, but now I was used to it. Artemisia came down every now and then for a scratch behind the wings and a crust of toast or a bit of sausage, but this was the first time she'd actually had a letter for me.