Chapter 8: The Potions Master

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"There, look."

"Where?"

"Next to the tall kid with the red hair."

"Wearing those glasses?"

"Did you see their faces?"

"Did you see their scars?"

From the minute Harry and Y/N left their dormitory the following day, whispers followed them. Those standing in line outside of classrooms stood on their tiptoes to get a better look at them or doubled back to walk by them in the corridors while still ogling them. Harry and Y/N wished they wouldn't because they were attempting to focus on getting to their classes.

At Hogwarts, there were a hundred and forty-two staircases, some of which led to different locations on Fridays and some of which had a vanishing step halfway up so you had to remember to jump. The staircases ranged in size from large, sweeping ones to short, decrepit ones. Then some doors would only open if you gently tickled them in the correct spot or requested politely. Some doors were solid walls that were acting like doors. Also, everything seemed to move around a lot, making it difficult to recall where anything was. Y/N was certain that the coats of armour could walk and the people in the portraits kept going to see one another.

The ghosts didn't help, either. Whenever one of them unexpectedly glided through a door you were attempting to open, it was usually a nasty shock. Nearly Headless Nick was always pleased to direct new Gryffindors in the correct direction, but if you ran into Peeves the poltergeist when you were running late for class, he was worth two locked doors and a trick staircase. He would drop bins on you, yank carpets out from beneath you, pelt you with chalk or sneak up behind you, invisible, grab your nose and screech, "GOT YOUR CONK!"

If Peeves wasn't bad enough, the caretaker was much worse, Argus Filch. On their very first morning, Y/N, Harry, and Ron managed to get on his bad side. On the third floor, Filch discovered them attempting to force their way through a door that unfortunately served as the entrance to the off-limits corridor. He refused to accept that they were lost, he was convinced they were trying to break into it on purpose and was threatening to lock them in the dungeons when they were saved by Professor Quirrell, who was passing by.

Mrs. Norris, the scrawny, dust-coloured cat that Filch kept, had protruding, lamp-like eyes just like Filch. She went alone through the corridors. A single violation of the rules in her presence, even a toe out of line, would cause her to bolt for Filch, who would show up two seconds later, wheezing. Filch was the only person who had a thorough understanding of the school's hidden passageways (except possibly the Weasley twins) and could appear as abruptly as any of the ghosts. All of the students despised him, and many of them wanted nothing more than to give Mrs. Norris a solid kick.

And then there were the lessons themselves, once you had found them. Harry and Y/N soon discovered that there was a lot more to magic than just waving your wand about and reciting a few odd words.

Every Wednesday at midnight, they had to use their telescopes to observe the night sky to learn the names of various stars and the motions of the planets. They went to the greenhouses behind the castle three times a week to study Herbology with Professor Sprout, a drab little witch who taught them how to take care of all the weird plants and fungi and what they were used for.

History Of Magic, which was the only class taught by a ghost, was unquestionably the most tedious lesson. Professor Binns dozed off in front of the staff room fire one night long ago. The next day, he got up to go to work and left his body behind. They wrote down names and dates and confused Emeric The Evil with Uric The Oddball as Binns droned on incessantly.

The Charms teacher, Professor Flitwick, was a diminutive wizard who had to stand on a stack of books to see over his desk. He took the register at the beginning of their first lesson, and when he got to Y/N and Harry's names, he squeaked in excitement and fell out of sight.

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