Go on, laugh! Potter!

Ron stared at Harry for a few seconds, his expression gradually turning odd.

"She stepped on you just now."

"I know."

"And said she'd make you pay."

"Heard that."

"Then what are you smiling about?"

Harry finally drew his gaze back and glanced at his shoe. A faint mark still remained on it.

"I just thought she looked rather interesting when she was angry."

Ron fell silent. He looked at Harry, then at the classroom door, as though he suddenly found this friend of his a little hard to understand.

"You're not really planning to wait for her to come looking for trouble, are you?"

"Let's eat first." Harry packed his books and stood up. "Aren't you hungry?"

Ron immediately decided that he still had plenty to say over the dining table.

Hermione and Neville had packed their things too.

The four left the underground classroom and climbed the stone steps.

They had only just reached the corridor when two students stopped talking.

One looked at Harry's face, then at his forehead, and quietly nudged his companion.

"That's him."

"Harry Potter?"

"I heard he made the best potion in the whole class on his first try."

"Professor Snape said that?"

"Yes. Even the Slytherin students saw it."

Harry's steps faltered slightly.

Word had already got out? Hadn't they only just finished class?

Ron, however, immediately puffed out his chest.

He even rather wanted to tell them that he had been right there in the classroom and had seen it with his own eyes.

A little farther along, more students looked their way.

"Professor McGonagall praised him too."

"I heard he managed Transfiguration on his very first try."

"Charms too."

"Harry Potter, the genius..."

Harry quietly quickened his pace a little.

But once they rounded the corner, there were still people looking.

A girl met his gaze, froze for a moment, then smiled and nodded at him.

Harry politely nodded back. Once he had passed, the conversation behind him started up again.

He rubbed his forehead a little helplessly.

The scar on his forehead had already been conspicuous enough. Now there was something else.

"Most of what they're saying is true," Hermione said.

"I know."

"So you don't need to mind it too much."

Harry turned to look at her.

Hermione sounded very earnest, clearly considering this a highly effective piece of reassurance.

Ron, however, couldn't help laughing. "You can't exactly pour that potion away and tell them you didn't actually make it, can you?"

"Professor Snape might throw me out first."

Ron laughed even louder.

Walking beside them, Neville hesitated, then spoke quietly. "Harry, next time we're preparing ingredients, could you help me check mine too?"

"Of course." Harry looked at him. "Which step gave you trouble today?"

"Weighing." Neville's ears reddened a little. "And stirring. Whenever I get nervous, I keep wanting to give it a few extra turns."

"Next time, make sure you remember each step clearly first, then check each one as you go."

Harry patted his shoulder. "It's all right to go a little slower."

Neville nodded, finally loosening his grip on his books a little.

Hermione had already begun discussing that day's procedure.

There were a few points she still wanted to check, so Harry listened and discussed them with her as they walked.

Ron looked at the two of them.

Wonderful.

Class was clearly over, yet Potions Class was still going on.

Lunch had already begun in the Great Hall.

The high ceiling showed the clear sky outside, with a few wisps of white cloud drifting slowly past. Sunlight streamed through the windows and fell on the golden plates along the tables.

When Harry sat down, a plate of roast meat with a faint sheen stood right in front of him.

Beside it were steaming potatoes, bread, and thick soup. Pumpkin Juice filled the goblets, its color quite lovely.

Ron first served himself a large helping of food, finally looking satisfied.

"The paths through the castle can be a bit complicated."

He took a bite of bread and added indistinctly,

"As long as they lead here in the end."

Harry thoroughly agreed. They had just picked up their knives and forks when a silvery-white figure floated over beside the table.

It was Gryffindor's ghost, Nearly Headless Nick.

He wore old-fashioned clothes with a particularly conspicuous neck ruff, and his gaze swept over their plates.

"How were this morning's lessons?"

"Quite good, Sir Nicholas," Harry said.

Nick's smile noticeably widened. "It seems you're beginning to settle in here."

Ron glanced at him, then at the roast meat in front of him.

"You really can't eat anything at all?"

"No." Nick sighed. "But I still remember how it all tasted."

Ron's fork hand paused.

Harry turned the conversation to the castle's portraits, asking about several corridors.

Nick was very happy to answer.

He had been here so long that he knew many places extremely well. He even warned them that an old wizard in one portrait was particularly bad-tempered in the afternoon.

"Try not to ask him for directions while he's napping."

Harry carefully committed that to memory.

After Nick left, an owl suddenly swept overhead.

Flapping its wings, it landed on a nearby table and dropped a rolled-up newspaper in front of its owner.

The newspaper unfolded. Several wizards in the photograph kept waving; one lost his hat and even bent down to chase it for a couple of steps.

Neville looked up, then felt his pocket again.

Harry lowered his head and cut into the meat before him. Juices slowly trickled along the cut.

Steam, the aroma of food, students beside him discussing spells, and the ghost that had just floated past the table.

He slowly took a sip of Pumpkin Juice.

Some things seemed perfectly natural when viewed through a screen.

Only once he was actually sitting here did he discover that even an ordinary lunch was fascinating.

It would be even better if he could put aside the shoe that had stepped on him earlier for now.

At the Slytherin table.

The lunch in front of Malfoy had been sitting there for quite some time.

She held her fork, yet her gaze kept involuntarily drifting to the other side.

Potter was eating.

Potter was talking to that idiot Weasley.

Potter was smiling again.

He actually still had the nerve to smile?!

Malfoy put down her fork, her voice very quiet. "I'm going to make Potter pay."

Goyle and Crabbe stopped moving at the same time.

They were very familiar with that statement.

Their young mistress had said it three nights ago.

Their young mistress had said it two nights ago.

Their young mistress had said it last night too.

This morning, after saying it, their young mistress had gone off to partner with Potter.

Goyle glanced at Crabbe, and Crabbe glanced back at Goyle.

Neither dared speak first.

"What are you looking at me for?" Malfoy frowned.

"We're thinking of a plan, miss," Goyle answered at once.

"Yes." Crabbe nodded along.

Only then did the girl look slightly satisfied.

She looked back toward the Gryffindor table.

Potter had definitely studied Potions before. Perhaps he had even studied it for a long time.

Otherwise, how could he possibly have done so well on his first try?

Worst of all, he had acted so sincere, with all that "first time" and "thank you."

And she had actually believed it all!

The more Malfoy thought about it, the angrier she became. She even swept the long hair resting on her shoulders behind her.

"This time, I'm going to beat him in front of everyone. I'll show him I'm not so easily made a fool of."

Crabbe scratched his head. "Another Potions contest?"

Malfoy froze.

Goyle hurriedly nudged Crabbe's leg under the table. That suggestion had come at a thoroughly inappropriate moment.

"Something else," the girl answered quickly. "I'm going to make Potter understand that memorizing a few books means nothing."

Goyle thought for a moment, then suddenly looked at his schoolbag.

"Miss, don't we have Flying Class coming up?"

"Flying Class?" Draco raised her eyes. "We have that with Gryffindor too."

Goyle's voice gradually grew more confident.

"I heard Weasley mention that Potter grew up in a Muggle home. He probably hasn't even touched a broomstick before."

Crabbe caught on too.

"Memorizing books definitely won't help with that!"

Malfoy did not speak at once. She thought of the lawn at home, and the broom she was so used to riding.

Flying.

From taking off to turning and landing, she had practiced it all more times than she could count.

This was something she truly felt confident about.

So what if Potter had studied Potions before?

Surely a Muggle family couldn't have specially prepared a broomstick for him too.

At that thought, the girl's tightly pressed lips finally relaxed a little.

"You're right."

Goyle and Crabbe breathed sighs of relief at the same time.

Malfoy picked up her fork again. Even the lunch in front of her looked a little more pleasing.

"When Flying Class comes, he'll understand what real skill is."

"When the time comes, if he can't even control his broom..." Crabbe thought for a moment. "Miss, will you still teach him?"

Goyle couldn't help closing his eyes. Malfoy's fork stopped in midair.

"Who said I was going to teach him?! I'm going to make a fool of him!"

Crabbe hurriedly nodded.

"Understood."

Goyle nodded too.

"Make a fool of him."

The girl gave a soft huff and looked into the distance again.

Harry happened to look up, and their eyes briefly met.

He actually smiled at her again.

The girl's eyes instantly widened.

What was that supposed to mean? He was already this angry, and Potter could still smile?

Was he mocking this young lady?!

Damn it!

He won once in Potions Class, and now he was so pleased with himself he'd forgotten his place?

Did he really think this young lady had no way to deal with him?!

Malfoy immediately raised his chin and glared fiercely back.

Go on, laugh, Potter!

Laugh all you like!

Once Flying Class comes around, we'll see if you can still laugh!