A Few Things About Classes

Professor Binns's History of Magic lessons certainly lived up to their sleep-inducing reputation.

Su Er suspected that Professor Binns's voice possessed some sort of magic that could put people to sleep in a second. At least in their first History of Magic lesson, everyone had succumbed except for one or two little eaglets from Ravenclaw.

Professor Binns's announcement that class was over acted like the countercharm to this sleeping spell. The moment he stopped lecturing, everyone successfully woke up.

In the afternoon's Charms lesson, the first-year wizards had to learn a basic spell-the Floating Charm.

Professor Flitwick gave a vivid demonstration of what happened when someone mispronounced the Floating Charm by deliberately getting one sound wrong.

He pronounced an "s" as an "f," and a furious bison appeared in the classroom. It stamped its forehooves against the floor, let out a deep bellow, and charged at Professor Flitwick with bloodshot eyes.

Amid the young wizards' startled cries, Professor Flitwick casually waved his wand, and the bison vanished.

"Unless you can survive beneath a bison's hooves, you had better be very careful when pronouncing your spells."

Professor Flitwick's vivid demonstration firmly etched the story into their memories: a hapless fellow named Baruffio had once sent himself off to meet Merlin with a simple Floating Charm.

As before, they spent half the lesson practicing the incantation and wand movements.

For the latter half, Professor Flitwick handed everyone a White Feather and asked them to try making it float with the Floating Charm.

"Remember what I just said. Subtle wrist movements-and pronouncing the incantation correctly is important too," Flitwick called as he stepped down from the platform.

"Oh! Very good." Professor Flitwick hurried over to Su Er in little steps, studying the feather gently floating above his desk. "Mr. Bones, did you practice before the start of term?"

"Yes, Professor," Su Er answered quietly.

"Did you have an adult wizard guiding you while you practiced?" There was a hint of curiosity in Flitwick's eyes.

"No, Professor," Su Er replied.

"Hmm..." Professor Flitwick paused. A trace of puzzlement flashed through his bright eyes, then vanished. "Actually, I don't recommend that young wizards practice magic alone without an adult wizard supervising them. It's far too dangerous."

"However, Mr. Bones, you have clearly exceeded my expectations, so..." A smile appeared on Flitwick's face. "Fifteen points to Hufflepuff!" he announced loudly.

Everyone in the classroom turned to look. Justin's eyes practically drooled with envy. He wanted to earn points too.

After class, Su Er became the most sought-after person among the young Hufflepuffs. Their eyes shone with longing as they tirelessly asked him for tips on casting the spell successfully.

Naturally, Su Er shared everything he knew, but all he had done was practice a few spells ahead of time under Hermione's insistence and read a tiny mountain of textbooks.

He could hardly tell them it was because he was smarter than they were, could he? Anyone who said something like that deserved to have a sack pulled over their head on a trip to the toilet.

Wednesday night brought an Astronomy lesson. They had to use telescopes atop Hogwarts' highest tower to observe the paths of the planets and learn the names of different stars and what they represented.

"If you intend to take Divination in your third year, you had better write down everything I say," their Astronomy professor, Aurora Sinistra, told them.

Thursday's Dark Magic Defence Against the Arts lesson turned into a joke.

"I think I could go to the kitchen and fry myself in oil now. I'd smell delicious," Justin joked, only to discover that nobody got it except a few Muggle-born wizards.

"Don't you know garlic is used to season food?" Justin asked with an exaggerated expression.

Only then did everyone catch on and burst out laughing, though a faint awkwardness lingered in the air.

He could hardly be blamed for saying that. The garlic smell in Professor Quirrell's classroom was simply overpowering. Professor Quirrell said it was to ward off a vampire he had encountered in Romania, because he feared it would come back to catch him.

As for the scarf the young wizards were curious about, Professor Quirrell told them it had been a gift from a prince in Africa, thanking him for helping get rid of some troublesome Inferi.

Still, most of them listened to these stories as just that-stories. As for how believable they were, well... everyone had their own opinion.

At least Su Er did not believe them. He knew perfectly well what lay beneath Professor Quirrell's scarf.

Professor Dumbledore had already laid a clever trap to lure his quarry in. Su Er was better off watching from the sidelines. At most, he would keep Hermione out of it. As for what would happen to Harry and Ron's trio without Hermione?

What did that have to do with him?

Dumbledore would naturally keep the situation under control from the shadows.

By the time they finished their third Herbology lesson of the week, Friday had arrived. That afternoon, after Herbology, came the nightmare they had all heard something about-Potions Class.

"I don't expect you to truly appreciate the beauty of a gently simmering cauldron, its white fumes and delicate fragrance, nor will you understand the exquisite magic of liquids flowing through human veins, bewitching the mind and ensnaring the senses..."

Professor Snape flung open the dungeon door with a bang. The oppressive aura radiating from him made the young wizards tremble and hold their breath.

Here was another person whose command of a classroom rivaled Professor McGonagall's.

Snape strode straight to the platform, his jet-black wizard's cloak rustling sharply. He faced the young wizards with a stern expression, sweeping his gloomy gaze over the room.

"I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even stop death-but only if you aren't the sort of dunderheads I so often encounter!"

"Now, put away those outdated Potions textbooks in your hands. In my class, you need only follow my instructions."

Su Er did not know whether Professor Snape had maxed out his Potions skills, but his sharp-tongued skill was definitely at its limit.

What was more, he was particularly fond of quietly standing behind a young wizard and watching them work with a sinister gaze.

"Mr. Boot, I believe I made myself quite clear." Snape bent down and picked up a pinch of the ground dried nettles set aside on the desk, rubbing it between his fingers. "The dried nettles need to be ground to the consistency of flour."

"If you don't know what flour looks like, I suggest you go to the Hogwarts Kitchens and consult the House-elves."

Almost everyone received a reprimand.

This was despite the fact that Professor Snape's instructions for brewing the Cure for Boils and preparing its ingredients differed greatly from those given in their Potions textbook.

Following Professor Snape's instructions, Su Er was about to add the porcupine quills to the cauldron he had taken off the heat when he felt a chill behind him, along with the faint sound of breathing.

Justin had already gone deathly pale and was trembling slightly.

Su Er hesitated for a moment, then decisively dropped the porcupine quills into the cauldron. Pink smoke suddenly billowed up. He watched the potion's color closely as it rapidly turned a pale blue.

Just as Su Er was about to breathe a sigh of relief, he caught sight of a hand reaching straight out to pick up the still-bubbling cauldron.

Holy shit. An iron hand that felt no pain...

Expressionless, Snape held the scalding cauldron beneath his nose and sniffed gently. Then he looked at Su Er, an inscrutable expression appearing on his face.

"The cauldron had not reached the required temperature before you added the horned slugs. The potion's effectiveness has been considerably reduced."

"Barely usable." Snape gave a faint snort and set the cauldron on the desk, leaving that verdict behind.

"One point to Hufflepuff."