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«Peeves,» Percy whispered to the first years. «A poltergeist.» He raised his voice, «Peeves—show yourself»
A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered.
«Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?»
There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating crosslegged in the air, clutching the walking sticks.
«Oooooooh!» he said, with an evil cackle. «Ickle Firsties! What fun!»
He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked.
«Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!» barked Percy.
Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on Neville's head. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as he passed.
«You want to watch out for Peeves,» said Percy, as they set off again. «The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, he won't even listen to us prefects. Here we are.»
At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.
«Password?» she said. «Caput Draconis,» said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it—Neville needed a leg up—and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.
Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. At the top of a spiral staircase—they were obviously in one of the towers—they found their beds at last: five four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, th...
« Great food, isn't it?» Ron muttered to Harry through the hangings. «Get off, Scabbers! He's chewing my sheets.»
Harry was going to ask Ron if he'd had any of the treacle tart, but he fell asleep almost at once.
Perhaps Harry had eaten a bit too much, because he had a very strange dream. He was wearing Professor Quirrell's turban, which kept talking to him, telling him he must transfer to Slytherin at once, because it was his destiny. Harry told the turban he didn't want to be in Slytherin; it got heavier and heavier; he trie...
He rolled over and fell asleep again, and when he woke next day, he didn't remember the dream at all.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE POTIONS MASTER
There, look.»
«Where?»
«Next to the tall kid with the red hair.»
«Wearing the glasses?»
«Did you see his face?»
«Did you see his scar?»
Whispers followed Harry from the moment he left his dormitory the next day. People lining up outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at him, or doubled back to pass him in the corridors again, staring. Harry wished they wouldn't, because he was trying to concentrate on finding his way to classes.
There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the...
The ghosts didn't help, either. It was always a nasty shock when one of them glided suddenly through a door you were trying to open. Nearly Headless Nick was always happy to point new Gryffindors in the right direction, but Peeves the Poltergeist was worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if you met him when you...
Even worse than Peeves, if that was possible, was the caretaker, Argus Filch. Harry and Ron managed to get on the wrong side of him on their very first morning. Filch found them trying to force their way through a door that unluckily turned out to be the entrance to the out-of-bounds corridor on the third floor. He wo...
Filch owned a cat called Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dust-colored creature with bulging, lamp like eyes just like Filch's. She patrolled the corridors alone. Break a rule in front of her, put just one toe out of line, and she'd whisk off for Filch, who'd appear, wheezing, two seconds later. Filch knew the secret passagewa...
And then, once you had managed to find them, there were the classes themselves. There was a lot more to magic, as Harry quickly found out, than waving your wand and saying a few funny words.
They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, where they learned...
Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old
indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates, and got Emetic the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up.
Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their first class he took the roll call, and when he reached Harry's name he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight.
Professor McGonagall was again different. Harry had been quite right to think she wasn't a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class.
«Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts,» she said. «Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned.»
Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a ...
The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days....
Harry was very relieved to find out that he wasn't miles behind everyone else. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and, like him, hadn't had any idea that they were witches and wizards. There was so much to learn that even people like Ron didn't have much of a head start.
Friday was an important day for Harry and Ron. They finally managed to find their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost once.
«What have we got today?» Harry asked Ron as he poured sugar on his porridge.
«Double Potions with the Slytherins,» said Ron. «Snape's Head of Slytherin House. They say he always favors them—we'll be able to see if it's true.»
«Wish McGonagall favored us, « said Harry. Professor McGonagall was head of Gryffindor House, but it hadn't stopped her from giving them a huge pile of homework the day before.
Just then, the mail arrived. Harry had gotten used to this by now, but it had given him a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners, and dropping letters and packages onto their laps.
Hedwig hadn't brought Harry anything so far. She sometimes flew in to nibble his ear and have a bit of toast before going off to sleep in the owlery with the other school owls. This morning, however, she fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a note onto Harry's plate. Harry tore it open a...
Dear Harry,
I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three?
I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig.
Hagrid
Harry borrowed Ron's quill, scribbled Yes, please, see you later on the back of the note, and sent Hedwig off again.
It was lucky that Harry had tea with Hagrid to look forward to, because the Potions lesson turned out to be the worst thing that had happened to him so far.
At the start-of-term banquet, Harry had gotten the idea that Professor Snape disliked him. By the end of the first Potions lesson, he knew he'd been wrong. Snape didn't dislike Harry—he hated him.
Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.
Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name.
«Ah, Yes,» he said softly, «Harry Potter. Our new—celebrity.»
Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.
«You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking,» he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word—like Professor McGonagall, Snape had y caught every word—like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. «As there is little foo...
More silence followed this little speech. Harry and Ron exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead.
«Potter!» said Snape suddenly. «What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?»
Powdered root of what to an infusion of what? Harry glanced at Ron, who looked as stumped as he was; Hermione's hand had shot into the air.
«I don't know, sit,» said Harry.
Snape's lips curled into a sneer.
«Tut, tut—fame clearly isn't everything.»
He ignored Hermione's hand.
«Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?»
Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat, but Harry didn't have the faintest idea what a bezoar was. He tried not to look at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were shaking with laughter.
«I don't know, sit.» «Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?» Harry forced himself to keep looking straight into those cold eyes. He had looked through his books at the Dursleys', but did Snape expect him to remember everything in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi?
Snape was still ignoring Hermione's quivering hand.
«What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?»
At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling.
«I don't know,» said Harry quietly. «I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?»
A few people laughed; Harry caught Seamus's eye, and Seamus winked. Snape, however, was not pleased.
«Sit down,» he snapped at Hermione. «For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, w...
There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, «And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter.»
Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed t...
«Idiot boy!» snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. «I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?»
Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.
«Take him up to the hospital wing,» Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville.
«You—Potter—why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor.»
This was so unfair that Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Ron kicked him behind their cauldron.
«Doipush it,» he muttered, «I've heard Snape can turn very nasty.»
As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, Harry's mind was racing and his spirits were low. He'd lost two points for Gryffindor in his very first week—why did Snape hate him so much? «Cheer up,» said Ron, «Snape's always taking points off Fred and George. Can I come and meet Hagrid with you?»
At five to three they left the castle and made their way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door.
When Harry knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, «Back, Fang—back.»
Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.
«Hang on,» he said. «Back, Fang.»
He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound.
There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.
«Make yerselves at home,» said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Ron and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked.
«This is Ron,» Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate.
«Another Weasley, eh?» said Hagrid, glancing at Ron's freckles. I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest.»
The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth, but Harry and Ron pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about their first -lessons. Fang rested his head on Harry's knee and drooled all over his robes.
Harry and Ron were delighted to hear Hagrid call Fitch «that old git.»
«An' as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I'd like ter introduce her to Fang sometime. D'yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere? Can't get rid of her—Fitch puts her up to it.»