First Day

Leylin's mouth was dry as he looked down at his schedule, navigating the halls of Hogwarts. Transfiguration followed by charms, lunch, then lastly Defense Against the Dark Arts to end the day.

He wiped a drop of sweat from his brow. It was his first day, and first time in over 5 years when he would be learning magic. 

The class had started with the Professor, Minerva McGonagall, turning from a cat into the stern faced woman everyone knew her as. The class watched in awe as the feline shifted and morphed into a bigger shape, eventually taking the form of the older woman in her emerald green dress and tightly bound hair.

Just like everything since he had arrived at this school–this world–it brought unbidden memories. A crying boy locked in a room, laughter drifting from behind a closed door. His mum comforting him by transforming into a thick coated lion, then back again. Leylin shook his head, trying to banish the memory. 

McGonagall stood upright in front of the class, back straight and hands locked behind her. "Transfiguration is one of the most complex and dangerous forms of magic taught here at Hogwarts. Any messing about, and you will leave and will not be coming back." 

She proceeded to draw her wand and point it toward an empty desk at the far end of the room. With a swish and mutter, it changed into a pink fat belly pig. As quick as it came to be, McGonagall promptly turned it back into the oak table. The class watched the entire process, transfixed.

"That was but a mere example of the endless possibles that is the art of Transfiguration." She said. "For now, you all will be starting with these." 

From her cloak, she produced a box of matches and began handing them out to the students. The Slytherin's on one side, Gryffindor the other. Separated like oil and water.

Leylin stared at the match in front of him as if the thing had offended him. "Acusignis." He muttered, the word sounding weird on his tongue. Nothing happened. 

Looking around, he saw the rest of the class in a similar situation. The frustration evident on their faces as the students flicked their wands and kept repeating the incantation. 

"Very good, Miss Granger!" He heard McGonagall on the other end of the room and saw her standing near the desk of a girl with bushy hair and a pair of big front teeth. "5 points to Gryffindor." 

The Slytherin's around him stirred, and renewed their efforts with more vigor. Leylin did the same, copying the wrist movement shown in the book and slowly sounding the word out. 

"Acusignis." He repeated, and felt his magic stir. A smile on his face, he said it again with more force. "Acusignis." 

Fire. An arch of flame shot from the match on his desk to the ceiling, scattering the surrounding students and scorching the wooden surface. Leylin stared at the arching inferno, eyes wide and mouth agape. That wasn't supposed to happen. 

"Mr. Addams!" McGonagall yelled out from his side, producing her wand and extinguishing the flames. She reared on him, face set in a thin line. "What are you trying to do? Set the entire school on fire!? 10 points from Slytherin." 

"But…" 

She cut him off by turning the desk in front of him back to its original state. Sighing, she said, "I think that's a good place to stop, everyone."

The kids groused and began packing their quills, books, and papers that McGonagall had handed out earlier.

"Don't forget your homework." She said, watching the students. "And be sure to practice the spell I've taught you all today. It will be on the practical test in the coming week." The last part, she looked intently at Lelyin.

With a sigh of his own, Leylin stood and left with the throng of students, heading for their next class. The surrounding whispers grew louder the further from the Professor they were.

"Worthless mudblood." 

"He really almost set the class on fire."

"Can't even control his magic. What is he, a toddler?" 

Lelyin clenched his fists harder the more he heard. Suddenly, he lurched forward, stumbling and dropping his books. He turned to see the pompous face of Theodore standing above him. The boy was scowling.

"Don't mess up again. Slytherin needs the points." He walked away, Blaze at his heels, scowling as well. Adrian came up behind them and gave Leylin a sad smile and continued on. 

Charms went comparatively better. He couldn't make the damn feather move, but at least he didn't turn it into a fire hazard. A win in his book. 

Though unfortunately, it did little to help his now growing reputation in Slytherin house as the 'incompetent mudblood'. The kids still whispered insults behind his back, others to his face. 

Leylin didn't respond to them. How could he? Punch them? Kick them? At the end of the day, they were right. He was abysmal at magic. And throwing fists would only land him in trouble.

But it sure would feel good, He thought.

******

At lunch, Leylin sat looking at his palms. Clenching and unclenching his fists. Red and bruised with dried blood where his nails had dug in. 

Half a day, he thought. Half a day and I already failed.

He wasn't expecting to be the next Merlin in magical abilities, but he would have settled for mediocrity. That 'plan' of getting on Draco's–or any of the pure bloods for that matter-good side seemed a vain hope. 

And no Draco? No influence? If he kept on doing horribly and achieving nothing? He would never get his revenge. Get justice for his mother.

That burning sensation in the pit of his stomach burned brighter. That feeling used to only come when he would think of the past, but ever since Diagon Alley, it was constant. Sometimes a dull torrid, others a fiery inferno that threatened to break. Break him, those around him, anyone really.

"Don't mess up again." His brother's words kept repeating in his mind as he absently took bites out of a turkey sandwich. 

He slammed a fist on the table, scattering food and spilling his drink. He felt eyes on him. Heard more of the insults. 

With a grunt, he threw his sandwich on the table and walked out of the hall, heading to his last class before he could call an end to the catastrophe that was his first day.

That catastrophe continued into his last subject. Leylin regretted walking into the room as soon as he opened the door. A putrid garlic smell hit his senses, making him cringe. He was the first there, and across the room was Professor Quirrell. 

The man was facing a wall and muttering to himself when he entered. He whirled on Leylin, beady black eyes under a large turban.

"Nott." His old family name came out as a whisper, but the man's mouth didn't even move.

Startled, Lelyin said, "It's Addams. Leylin Addams." 

The sweating professor smiled. "O-Of course." He stuttered. "M-Mr. A-A-ddams." 

Leylin stared at the man but said nothing. It wasn't really a surprise that he knew his name–McGonagall seemed to, after all–but it was the way he said it. Like he was surprised by his appearance. And that speaking without his lips moving.....

Leylin shuddered and took a seat at the far back, waiting for the rest of the kids. He studied the professor while he did so, watching the man walk around and rearrange a few of the scattered statues, stack some papers, and occasionally mutter things to himself.

Weird, Lelyin thought with a chill up his spine.

As the surrounding desks filled, Leylin noted the excitement that emanated from the students. Maybe it was the 'Dark Arts' in the subject name, or maybe it was the prospect of learning spells directly related to combat, but the class was filled with sparkling eyes and animated chatter. 

All of that died the moment Quirrell opened his mouth. "W-Welcome F-F-First years," He stammered. "T-To your f-first c-class of D-Defence against the D-D-Dark Arts." 

The entire lesson, the professor spoke with his speech impediment, eliciting groans and sighs among the students. Even excluding that, Quirrell didn't teach them much. He spoke at length about a trip he had to Romania and about a vampire chasing him, but never went into the actual subject or taught any spells. Just pointless rambling.

By the end, everyone had learned that garlic kept vampires away, but not much else. They all trudged out of the classroom with dour expressions, grumbling about how the class was going to be a waste of time. Leylin was inclined to agree.

***

After classes were finished, students had around 2 hours of free time until dinner at 8 and then to bed. Or more accurately, until they were locked in their dorm rooms. 

Leylin spent his free time doing laps along the Great Lake's coastline. The entire day he had wanted to hit something–or someone–but seeing as how he had no equipment, nor a willing sparing partner, he decided to release his stress through running. 

He ran and ran until he was wheezing and his legs wobbled. Until the yellow sun dipped below the horizon and painted the lake with an orange tinge. The whole time he noticed the odd glance of students here and there, watching him as if he were crazy. 

Maybe he was, because during his workout, he had lost track of the hours and was forced to rush to his dorm and change back into his school robes. By the time he got to the great hall, the tables were filled, and some kids were even sitting back and chatting, finished with their food. 

"5 points from Slytherin for being late, Mr. Addams." McGonagall said as she passed him and went to take a seat with the rest of the teachers at the front. 

God, he hated that woman. 

Lelyin found a spot at the table more separated from the other Slytherin's and, once again, ate alone. He sat in silence, watching his fellow first years. He couldn't hear them over the myriad of voices that boomed around the hall, but he didn't need too to know what they were saying. 

With glances in his direction, they glowered, turned to their friends, pointed at him, then they'd all laugh. Leyin stared back at them, eyes narrowed. 

I need to do something, He thought. Something different. A new plan, a new angle. Something.

Or else he'd never be able to do what he needs to do. And to Leylin…....he'd rather die.