4. First Week
Hope woke up to Hermione shaking her awake. She opened her eyes groggily, seeing it was still dark out.
"What time is it?" Hope mumbled, rubbing her eyes.
"5:30," Hermione answered.
Hope stared at the girl. "Hermione," she paused, trying to sound as nice as possible, "breakfast doesn't even start until 7:30, and classes don't start till 9:00. So why am I up?"
"Well, yes, but... well... I... you know, the castle's quite big. There are a hundred and forty-two staircases according to Hogwarts, A History. And I just thought you might want to go early and explore a bit with me, you know, so we don't end up getting lost," Hermione said nervously.
"You don't have to if you don't want to. I asked Parvati and Lavender as well, but neither of them wanted to go. I just wanted to see if you'd like to go with me," she added, looking down dejectedly.
Hope looked at the girl with a sympathetic expression. Honestly from the few interactions they had had, Hermione seemed high-strung, a tad annoying, and, well, a bit of a know-it-all. But the thing she had noticed most on top of that was her kindness. She had gone from compartment to compartment on the train in order to help Neville find his lost toad. She had told her, Ron, and Harry that they'd be arriving soon and that they'd better put their robes on. And now she had asked all her dormitory mates if they wanted to explore the castle with her so they wouldn't be left out.
Hope smiled. "Sounds great."
Hermione looked up at her and smiled. "Really?" she asked, not having expected Hope to say yes after the other girls had declined.
"Mhm. Just give me a second to get ready, yeah?"
Hermione nodded excitedly.
Hope took a quick shower and changed into her robes. She grabbed her school bag, which was on top of her trunk, and walked down the spiral staircase to the common room, where Hermione was eagerly waiting for her.
"Ready?" Hermione asked, smiling brightly.
"Yep," Hope nodded, and the two made their way out of the portrait.
The girls first made their way to the quad courtyard, illuminated by the moon in the dark morning sky. Then, they headed to the astronomy wing, which housed the majority of the classrooms. Hope would have them stop from time to time so she could pull out her quill and jot down where certain classes and rooms were.
From their exploring, it did seem there were indeed 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 right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending.
At 7:00, with the sun finally shining, the two decided to trek back to the Great Hall.
The girls sat down at the Gryffindor table; there were only a few other students in the hall, as there were still fifteen minutes until breakfast was served.
"What class are you most excited for?" Hermione asked.
"Oh, definitely flying lessons," Hope answered excitedly.
"That's the one class I'm a bit nervous for," Hermione admitted.
"Oh, it won't be too bad; it comes naturally to most wizards and witches."
"Did it come naturally to you?"
Hope paused. "Well, I've never actually ridden a broom before," she said quietly, avoiding Hermione's eyes.
"Hope, how do you even know if it comes naturally then!?" Hermione exclaimed.
"Well, I'm assuming it comes naturally... I better hope it comes naturally if I have any chance of being on the Quidditch team next year," Hope said, turning to Hermione, and the girls laughed.
Hope looked down at the once-empty table, now piled with breakfast foods: scrambled and sunny-side-up eggs, bacon, British sausage, roasted potatoes, fried tomatoes, black pudding, and toast. Spread options included butter, marmalade, strawberry jam, and Marmite.
The girls began eating as more students filed into the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall soon approached and handed them their timetables.
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Hope had found most of the lessons fairly interesting. Every Wednesday at midnight, they had to study the night skies through their telescopes and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets for Astronomy. Three times a week, they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle for Herbology, taught by a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of strange plants and fungi and discovered what they were used for.
Then there was History of Magic, which Harry and Ron thought was incredibly boring, but Hope found the material interesting—even if the teacher wasn't the best. It was the only class 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 the next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him.
Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their first lesson, he took roll call, and when he reached Harry's name, he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight.
Professor McGonagall was different. Hope thought she was brilliant. She did terrify her, but she was brilliant nonetheless. She was strict and clever, and the way she held herself with poise and dignity was almost regal in a sense. She gave them a talking-to the moment they had 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 making a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, Hermione had made a significant difference to her match—Professor McGonagall showed the class how it had gone all silver and pointy and gave Hermione a rare smile. Hope smiled at her friend proudly but also felt a bit of jealousy tug at her.
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.
His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they believed this story. For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan eagerly asked to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather. For another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted it was stuffed full of garlic as well so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went.
Hope sat with Harry and Ron in the Great Hall.
"What have we got today?" Harry asked Ron as he poured sugar on his porridge.
Hope groaned the thought of having potions souring her mood.
"Double Potions with the Slytherins," Ron answered, with a frown. "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," Harry muttered.
"That's what makes Professor McGonagall so great," Hope chimed in, taking a bite of her sausage. "She doesn't play favorites. It's strictly about knowledge and turning out the best witches and wizards, regardless of House."
"Teacher's pet," Ron coughed out.
Harry laughed as Hope shoved him lightly, giving him a playful glare.
Just then, the post 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.
Markl flew down, settling in front of Hope's plate, dropping a letter and a small box. She opened the letter eagerly.
My little Gryffindor,
I'm so proud of you! Of course, I would have been just as proud no matter which house you were sorted into, but I can't deny there's something special about seeing you follow in my footsteps.
Remember, bravery doesn't mean you're never afraid—it means you face your fears anyway. And I have no doubt that you have that kind of courage in you. I know you're going to do amazing things at Hogwarts.
I've sent along a little treat to celebrate—some chocolate frogs. Hopefully, they make your first days at school a little sweeter and remind you that you're always surrounded by love, no matter how far apart we are.
I'm doing just fine, so don't worry about me.
Love,
Dad
Hope smiled and opened the small box, which contained a few chocolate frogs. She looked over and saw Harry had received a letter of his own.
"Can I borrow your quill, Ron?" Harry asked.
Ron nodded, rummaging in his bag for his quill and handing it to Harry, who scribbled on the back of the note and sent Hedwig off again.
"Who's the letter from?" Hope asked, opening one of her chocolate frogs.
"Hagrid. He wants to have tea at three. Do you two want to join?"
The two nodded, excited for something to look forward to after Potions. Hope took a bite of her chocolate frog and looked to see who she had gotten. She smiled.
"Here, Ron," she said, handing the card to the red-haired boy.
He took it and practically leapt out of his seat when he saw who it was.
"Ptolemy?!" he exclaimed. "Hope, are you sure you want to give him to me? What about your collection?"
She shrugged and nodded.
"You're the best. She's the best," he said, turning to Harry. "I owe you—seriously, anything you need, consider it done. Charms homework—"
"Ron, you haven't even done your own Charms homework yet," Harry interrupted with a laugh.
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Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder there 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 roll, and Hope could have sworn he sent her a glare when her name was called. Like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name.
"Ah, yes," he muttered bitterly. "Harry Potter. Our new—celebrity."
Draco 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 potion-making," he began.
He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word.
"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach," he continued.
More silence followed this little speech. Harry and Ron exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. Hope gulped nervously. He was another teacher that terrified her, but not in the way McGonagall did. No, Professor Snape had a very cold demeanor that gave her a chill anytime he looked in her direction.
Hermione was on the edge of her seat, looking desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead.
"Potter!" Snape called out, suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Harry furrowed his brows, glancing at Ron, who looked as stumped as he was. Hermione's hand had shot into the air.
"I don't know, sir," Harry replied.
Snape's lips curled into a sneer.
"Tut, tut—fame clearly isn't everything." Snape said coldly, ignoring Hermione's hand.
"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"
This one Hope knew the answer to. However, she was too scared to raise her hand.
Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat and Hope glared at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were shaking with laughter.
"I don't know, sir." Harry repeated, feeling small under Snape's scrutinizing gaze.
"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" Snape sneered, still ignoring Hermione's quivering hand.
"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?" He asked, at this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling.
"I don't know," Harry said 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," Snape 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, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?" He added, his beady eyes scanning around the room.
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 to like.
He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes.
Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.
"Idiot boy!" Snape snarled, 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," Snape scolded.
"That's not fair," Hope blurted out.
Snape turned to face her furiously, and she paled as all the other Gryffindors looked at her like she was insane. If she was honest, she hadn't even meant to say it—it just came out before she could stop it.
"What was that, Ms. Lupin?" Snape asked, glaring down at the girl.
"Uhm, well... it's just..." Hope bumbled nervously.
"What's the matter? You seemed to have no trouble speaking a moment ago," he said venomously.
Hope furrowed her brows angrily, taken aback by his behavior. She had heard he was bad, but she didn't think he'd be this awful.
"It's not his fault. Neville messed up his potion. And Neville probably only messed up his potion because your nasty attitude toward the Gryffindors has shaken him." Hope retorted, standing her ground.
The room stood still. Everyone looked shocked, and Hope instantly regretted speaking up as she looked into Snape's rage-filled eyes.
"Twenty points from Gryffindor."
"What?" Hope gasped, standing abruptly.
"Another twenty. Would you like to make it sixty, Ms. Lupin?" he said, putting emphasis on her name.
She shook her head, slumping down into her seat as Snape continued the lesson.
As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, Hope hung her head low dejectedly, multiple Gryffindors giving her a pat on the back.
"Honestly, forty points isn't that bad. Other students have lost that much before," Hermione said, trying to cheer the girl up, deciding against reprimanding her.
"In the first week?"
Hope walked ahead slightly to catch up with Ron and Harry.
"Hey, I think I'll just go back to the common room and get some homework done, but tell Hagrid I'm looking forward to meeting him, yeah?"
Ron and Harry nodded understandingly, and the girl made her way to the common room.
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Hope sat in the common room, working on her essay about the self-stirring cauldron for History of Magic.
"Whatcha doin' all by your lonesome, little Lupin?" George asked as the twins approached, sitting on either side of her.
When she first met them, she couldn't tell them apart, but after a few conversations, she learned the difference—Fred had a rounder face, while George had a slightly longer face with a bump on the bridge of his nose.
"Yeah, why do you seem so down?" Fred asked.
"Lost Gryffindor forty points," she sighed, glumly.
"In the first week?!" they exclaimed. "You've beaten our record."
"Didn't peg you for a troublemaker," George said.
"So, what happened?" Fred asked.
"Told Snape he was nasty," she groaned.
The twins looked at each other, then back at Hope.
"You really are a Gryffindor. I've never met anyone who's said that to his face—especially not a first year," Fred said.
A moment passed before the twins exchanged a glance, a mischievous glint in their eyes. Then, they turned to Hope.
"Well, little Lupin," George said, throwing an arm around her, "how would you feel about a little payback?"
Fred grinned, draping his arm over her other shoulder.
"I don't know..." Hope hesitated, looking between the two boys.
"Oh, come on, you can't let Snape get away with it," Fred urged.
"It'll be fuuun," George sang.
Shaking her slightly Hope tried to hide her grin as she rolled her eyes. "Well, what did you have in mind?"
The boys grinned.
"That's our girl," George smiled.
"Seeing as you're the one he's done wrong, how about you do the honors?" Fred suggested.
"Oh, I... I've never pulled a prank before. I don't even know many basic spells, let alone spells for pranks," Hope admitted nervously.
"That's what we're here for, little Lupin, isn't it, Fred?" George said, turning to his brother.
"That we are, George. Let's see... We could set off some dung bombs in his classroom. You could use Furnunculus—give him boils everywhere. Densaugeo can make someone's teeth grow all the way to the floor. Ooh! There's the Bat-Bogey Hex!" Fred exclaimed excitedly. "It turns people's bogeys into large bats that fly out of their noses."
"What about grease?" Hope mused thoughtfully.
The twins looked at her.
"How do you mean?" George asked.
"Well, since Snape's a greasy git, what if we set off grease bombs in his classroom instead of dung bombs? Oh! And can we change the chalkboard? That way, it says 'Snape's a greasy git' right before the bombs go off," she suggested excitedly.
The twins stared at her before breaking into wide grins.
"You're an evil genius!" Fred exclaimed, clapping her on the shoulders.
"Hope, my dear," George grinned, beaming, "if you're coming up with pranks like that, I've got a feeling we're going to get along famously."