Day 33 of Sarah's New Life
Sarah crept through the darkness of her dormitory, quiet as a mouse. She had not slept much. The other girls in her dormitory had stayed up very late talking, and Sarah had been so distraught by the entire situation the spells she had worked so hard on had failed her.
It had been decided, without her input, that she was cripplingly shy. Sarah had never had much control of what others said or thought of her, and she was not inclined to vocally defend herself. If they thought she was shy, that was fine. They were all so incredibly friendly, more than any other kids she had met in her whole life. This difference was nearly as drastic as that of her sleeping situation.
Sarah had gone from having her own cupboard to sharing a room with other people. With her curtains closed, it was almost like being at the Dursleys. Not that Sarah enjoyed being locked in the cupboard while the Dursleys went about their daily lives, but there was some semblance of privacy within the confines of her cupboard, and behind the yellow curtains of her bed.
Her bed was big, with a thick patchwork quilt and a mattress that made Sarah feel like she was lying on a cloud. She wished it were a bit firmer, but it was still a vast improvement from the grotty old mattress she had in her cupboard.
What bothered Sarah now was the bathroom situation. She had not wanted to emerge and walk through the group of other girls in order to reach the bathroom. She hadn’t even seen the bathroom. Now that she was fully awake, well before dawn, and the others were asleep, Sarah was free to explore.
Sarah carefully turned the doorknob, her shoulders relaxing when it unlatched silently. There was a soft light seeping out, and she opened the door wider to peer inside.
She had been sorted into Hufflepuff, so the number of badgers present in the room should have been less surprising. The floor was tiled in a mosaic depicting badgers leaping and dancing in a field filled with flowers, butterflies, and bees, all in motion. It was captivating, and Sarah paused to marvel at it. She eventually tore her eyes away, and felt a rush of relief to see that, unlike the toilets at her primary school, there were individual rooms. The same went for the showers, and even baths.
Sarah wandered around the space, amazed so much could fit into one deceptively small room. There were piles of towels in black and yellow, brushes and combs, soaps and shampoos, everything one could possibly need. And Sarah had it all to herself.
Sarah worked fast. She quickly retreated to her bed, using her wand to unlock her trunk and gather her clothes for the day. Aunt Petunia never let her take a long shower, complaining about the cost of water. She knew she didn’t have to worry about that at Hogwarts, since it was a magic castle, but she did not want the other girls to see her in her pajamas. It was an old shirt of Dudley’s that hung from her like a particularly threadbare potato sack. Sarah had no idea why she had brought it along, other than she was used to it. She wasn’t embarrassed, but the neck was stretched out and showed part of her scar. Someone had already asked to see her scar, though everyone around them told them to hush. Sarah appreciated that, even as it galled her.
She hurried back to the bathroom and locked herself in a shower room, letting a small smile appear. She could have a shower. She could have a hot shower. She could wash her hair. She could comb her hair. She could use as many towels as she wanted. No one would bang on the door and shout at her to hurry up, to stop wasting water, threaten to come in, actually come in and use the toilet while she was still in the shower. Sarah could simply have a shower.
It was fantastic.
The Hufflepuff Basement was in a very convenient location. The prefects—whose names Sarah did not remember—had led them to a door adjacent to the Great Hall, next to the big marble staircase. It was only a short walk down a rather pleasant corridor lined with paintings, then they had to hit some barrels, and there the common room was.
Sarah liked that it was underground. It felt very secure and sturdy, and there were even windows that rose just above the ground outside. Their common room was bursting with life, plants spilling over from pots and hangers, from copper sconces on the walls, from large towers with holes for the plants to grow out of. Sarah recognized many from One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, though she did not yet know the names. It was all very green, and this profusion of vegetation breathed a sense of peace and serenity into the room. Despite the low ceiling, and the walls that looked stolen from a cave, there was a lightness to the common room, and to Sarah’s dormitory. She was especially happy with the windows, as she was concerned Hedwig would want to find her and be unable to.
Sarah did not linger in the common room. She had a destination in mind. Sarah could not stand the thought of eating in such a large space with so many other people. She had always had the free school meal at her primary, and went to different places to eat it so Dudley and his gang wouldn’t take it from her. Some days it was the only meal she got.
The meal after the Sorting Ceremony, the feast, had been a trial to get through. The amount of food was staggering. While Sarah was used to Dudley’s poor manners, something which Aunt Petunia had never managed to correct, she was not used to sitting around so many other children and eating. Not to mention how many people kept talking at her, pointing at her, standing up to get a look, saying her name, passing her platters of food, offering her puddings and pumpkin juice, smiling, laughing, shouting. It had been a bombardment.
Sarah could not see herself doing that three times a day for the next year.
She made sure the barrels were closed behind her and walked down the painting-lined corridor. Professor McGonagall had made her purchase extra clothes, like socks and shoes and undergarments, things in short supply at the Dursleys if one was named Sarah Potter. Sarah had never worn new shoes, but she had heard Dudley complain how tight and hard to walk in they were. Maybe the difference was magic, but the shoes Sarah wore were a perfect fit. She stuck her foot out of her robes, just to prove she wasn’t still in Dudley’s old trainers. The person at the shop claimed the leather was from a dragon. Sarah also had a new pair of boots for when she had Herbology. Professor McGonagall had assured her heavy clothing was necessary, and based on Sarah’s textbook she believed it.
Walking happily down the corridor and running lightly up the stairs, Sarah emerged into an empty entrance hall, and an equally empty Great Hall. She was the first to breakfast, as she had hoped.
The feast had magically appeared on the table, and most had treated that as if it were a common occurrence. Perhaps to the others it was, Sarah had no idea how witches and wizards cooked. She sat at the Hufflepuff table, in the same place she had sat the evening before, and waited for something to happen.
She was rewarded immediately. A tray with tea, sugar, and cream appeared, follow by several dishes. There were scrambled eggs, kippers, porridge, cornflakes, bacon, toast, honey, a bowl of fruit, jam, butter… It was a lot to choose from.
As Sarah boldly added honey to her porridge, a flutter of wings drew her attention. She looked up and was amazed to see Hedwig flying towards her. She felt a frisson of worry, as she was certain animals would not be allowed at the breakfast table, or in the castle at all. But Hedwig was a very smart owl, and had gone entirely unnoticed by all of Privet Drive. Sarah did not think Hedwig would intentionally get her in trouble. She could not even tell where Hedwig had entered from.
Hedwig landed on the table next to her, which was so outrageous Sarah almost shooed her away. But Hedwig only had eyes for the bacon. She did give Sarah’s bowl of porridge a pointed look before pecking at her own breakfast.
Sarah huffed in amusement, then began eating.
“Miss Potter.”
Sarah, who had been wondering what to do with Hedwig once they had finished their meals, looked up and saw an older woman walking towards her. It was Professor Sprout, who the older Hufflepuff students had said was their head of house, as well as their Herbology professor. As Professor Sprout neared, seemingly in no hurry, Sarah could see the dirt stains and patches on her clothing. She briefly imagined what Aunt Petunia might have done if it was Professor Sprout who had been waiting for them on Privet Drive.
Professor Sprout walked around the other side of the table, smiling kindly.
“Would you mind if I sat down?” asked Professor Sprout.
Sarah shook her head, and Professor Sprout sat across from her.
“Minerva—Professor McGonagall—told me a few things about you,” said Professor Sprout.
Sarah pulled back slightly, and Hedwig clacked her beak.
“I know,” said Professor Sprout gently. “It’s upsetting when people talk behind your back. I promise it was only so we can make things easier for you at Hogwarts. She told me you don’t speak?”
Sarah nodded.
Professor Sprout beamed at her. “Well, it’s good you were sorted into Hufflepuff! I’ll tell you a secret. We have the only common room that doesn’t have a spoken password.”
Sarah’s eyes widened slightly. She hadn’t even considered that would be an issue. It wasn’t in Hogwarts: A History.
“Now, how is your arm feeling?”
Sarah raised her right arm.
“Excellent,” said Professor Sprout. “I still would like for you to see Madam Pomfrey in the infirmary to make sure everything is tiptop. Do you think you could do that today?”
Sarah nodded.
“Did you come here early so you didn’t have to be around others?” asked Professor Sprout. “I saw you did not look very pleased during the Welcoming Feast.”
She nodded again. Hedwig ruffled her feathers, which made her look bigger.
Professor Sprout sighed. “Children can be rather nosy, don’t you think? There’s nothing for it, I’m afraid. And Hufflepuffs are known to be quite friendly. However,” said Professor Sprout, just as Sarah was getting worried, “we are also very kind. It may take some time for you all to settle in and get used to each other. Do you think you can be patient with them?”
Sarah shrugged. All the other first-year Hufflepuffs seemed tolerable, with the possible exception of Zacharias Smith. She liked that they hadn’t pressured her to join their conversation in the dormitory.
“Alright,” said Professor Sprout, standing up. “Since I doubt you’ll ask the prefects for help, let’s have a look around the castle, shall we?”
Hogwarts Castle was gigantic. Professor Sprout had only shown Sarah where all of her classes were, as well as the infirmary, the library, the kitchens—another secret—and where Professor Sprout’s office was among the greenhouses. She had also taken Sarah up to the Owlery, which was where Hedwig could rest and get food and water. Hedwig was a huntress, though, and Sarah did not expect Hedwig to spend much time with all the nocturnal school owls that lived there.
Professor Sprout led her back to the common room while everyone else was at breakfast. It had become very loud in the Great Hall, and the entrance hall, but the door to the basement corridor cut off the sound.
There were some people in the common room, mostly older students who smiled and waved at Sarah. But no one shouted her name, or chased after her, or tried to shake her hand, or any of the various things the odd people who approached her in the past had done. She now knew those were witches and wizards. She was lucky none of them had wanted to hurt her, or kidnap her. There would have been nothing she or Aunt Petunia could have done to prevent it.
Sarah was also given an apology for Hagrid’s behavior. Professor Sprout said it had been a mistake to send someone as enthusiastic as Hagrid, and that it was common sense to not want to go anywhere with a stranger. Hagrid was allegedly a very gentle person, but Sarah had seen what he had done to Uncle Vernon’s rifle, and what he had done to Dudley.
She gathered her school things, relieved to find none of her belongings had been tampered with. It would be different at this school. She didn’t have cheap biros or notebooks Dudley had already scribbled all over. She had a new satchel, quills, unused notebooks, parchment, bottles of ink. It was all hers.
The one thing Sarah didn’t like about the Hufflepuff basement was that only one corridor led to it. She passed people coming back from breakfast. She kept her head up and her eyes straight ahead, nodding politely to Hannah Abbott, who passed her with a, “Hi, Sarah!”
Her first class was Defense Against the Dark Arts. It was very easy to get to, just up the marble staircase and down several corridors. Other students were also going to their classes, many stopping to stare and point, whispering or making loud observations about Sarah. She heard several comments about her scar, which made her upset. Professor Sprout had told Sarah that if anyone bothered her, or tried to force her to show them her scar, to go to her immediately.
Magic wasn’t allowed in the corridors, but just because there was a rule didn’t stop it from happening. Sarah chastised herself for being so focused on locking charms and silencing charms during her month of freedom. She had never silenced a person with magic before, and the books made it clear that was much more difficult than making an area silent.
Sarah’s hand tightened on her bag as she walked, and she was glad to make it to the Defense classroom without any altercations. She had learned the hard way that running only served to make pursuers more excited. She was still faster than Dudley, and Piers, and the other boys, but they were all like Ripper. If you ran, they chased.
When Sarah opened the door, she was struck with the eye-watering smell of garlic. It was overpowering, and she nearly shut the door again. She pursed her lips in annoyance, then braved the unappealing classroom, locating a seat in the back to claim as her own. The table had two chairs, and she placed her bag on the second one.
The class began to fill with first-year students from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Sarah got out her things, not sure what the teacher expected but not wanting to be called out for being unprepared. Someone asked her if they could sit next to her, but left when she shook her head. Hannah and Susan sat at the table in front of hers, talking excitedly to each other. Sarah learned, against her will, that Susan Bones had an aunt who was in charge of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Sarah propped her head in her hand, wondering where the magical police had been her entire life. Or when Hagrid was breaking into shacks and transfiguring Dudley.
A man wearing a purple turban appeared at the front of the room, startling Sarah out of her contemplation. He began writing his name on the board, Professor Quirinus Quirrell, and a strange thing happened to Sarah.
Her scar began to tingle.
There was a free period between their double Defense lesson and lunch, so Sarah hurried to the lavatory. She had never had any feeling in her scar, which had always intrigued her. That it was doing something now that she was at Hogwarts was concerning. When she was safely in a stall, she checked to make sure it at least looked normal. The tingling had gone away.
Puzzled, Sarah decided to go to the hospital wing and meet with Madam Pomfrey.
The hospital wing was also conveniently located, just on the ground floor. When she opened the doors, Sarah heard someone moaning in pain.
A woman in stiff burgundy robes materialized at her side, and Sarah flinched in surprise.
“This way, Miss Potter,” said the woman, walking quickly past curtained off hospital beds. Sarah narrowed her eyes against the glare of sunlight streaming in; everything was very pristine. She glanced at where the moaning was originating from as they passed.
“Potions accident,” the woman, who Sarah assumed was Madam Pomfrey, said brusquely. Madam Pomfrey shook her head. “There’s always one. Have a seat here.”
Sarah sat on the bed Madam Pomfrey pointed to.
“You injured your arm?” Madam Pomfrey asked, taking out a wand and poking at Sarah’s arm. She waved it around, murmuring something and frowning slightly. “Multiple dislocations?”
Sarah reluctantly nodded.
Madam Pomfrey sighed, then hurried away. She returned with a vial of some potion which she said would make all the soft parts around Sarah’s shoulder feel better. She seemed offended by Sarah’s reluctance.
“I am not in the business of poisoning my patients,” she snapped. “Don’t be ridiculous, young lady!”
Sarah grimaced, then drank the contents of the vial. She wrinkled her nose at the taste, and at the tingling around her shoulder.
“And Professor McGonagall says you cannot speak?”
Sarah nodded, though that wasn’t true. She could, if she felt like it. She almost never felt like it.
Madam Pomfrey’s frown deepened, and she began waving her wand at Sarah’s throat. “There is nothing physically wrong with you. Well.”
After some more fussing, Madam Pomfrey sent Sarah on her way. She had been worried Madam Pomfrey would want to examine her scar. Sarah had no idea how she would have stopped Madam Pomfrey from seeing all the other ones.
Professor Sprout had shown Sarah the inside of the kitchens, and said she could get food there if she did not want to go to the Great Hall. Sarah did not think it was much of an improvement, given the number of people in the kitchens. Professor Sprout had introduced the people as house-elves, and they were all very eager to help. They did back down when Professor Sprout explained that Sarah did not like being surrounded by them, or talked at a lot. The house-elves were thankfully too busy cooking and cleaning for the entire castle to focus all of their energy on a single student, and Sarah was glad they weren’t acting like she was some sort of celebrity.
Sarah quietly ate a bowl of stew, which made her feel warm, and watched the house-elves run around the ovens, carrying platters of food, washing dishes, popping in and out of existence. Sarah blinked at that, reminded of the old woman who had vanished on the bus.
When she was finished eating, Sarah tried to carry her bowl to a sink, but a nearby house-elf snapped his fingers and the bowl floated out of her hand. Bemused, Sarah left the kitchens and made her way to her next class.
Unlike the basement, the dungeon corridors were dark and cold, lit by sputtering candles that occasionally crackled, the sound echoing ominously off the ancient stones. It reminded Sarah of the sort of alleys and streets Aunt Petunia walked quickly past, giving her the impression something was lying in wait for her. Like Aunt Petunia, Sarah walked quickly.
In the Potions classroom, Sarah once again took a seat in the back. The room better fit what her idea of a witch had been. It was grim like the rest of the dungeons, the stones dark and stained with mysterious fluids and soot marks. Shelves were embedded in the walls, each crowded with jar after jar of preserved creatures Sarah could not identify, no doubt put there by some macabre collector. Big cauldrons were stacked in corners, and strange herbs hung from the ceiling. There was a peculiar smell that was somehow worse than the garlic in Defense.
The professor matched the atmosphere. He was a sallow man with lanky black hair, who seemed to have his face stuck in a permanent scowl. Sarah wracked her brain for what Professor Sprout had said about Potions. All she could remember was that the professor was the head of Slytherin.
The class, the same Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws from Defense, was subdued as they settled at the tables. The professor began reading the class register. To Sarah’s dismay, he paused when he got to her name.
“Sarah Potter,” said the man slowly, looking at her. Sarah stared back. “Our new celebrity.”
The silenced dragged. After a moment, the professor finally looked at his list again and called the next name.
Sarah sighed as the professor gave a speech about how great potions were or something. Sarah had enough of stirring pots for a lifetime, but she was somewhat confident she would be decent at potions, and was tentatively curious. It sounded like magical cooking to her.
“Potter!” snapped the professor.
Sarah turned away from the pickled pig she was staring at and looked at him. He asked her a question she had no idea how to answer. She vaguely recalled reading about asphodel and wormwood, but could not say what happened if they were combined. She reached into her bag, thinking to find the answer in her book.
“Well?” he asked acidly. “Cat got your tongue, Potter?”
Sarah looked up from her bag, narrowing her eyes. Professor Sprout said that all the professors knew she didn’t talk. She wasn’t expected to answer questions in class. If she had to, she could write it down.
“Five points from…Hufflepuff,” said the professor, further confusing Sarah. She was getting frustrated. She could not recall the significance of points.
“Let’s try another one,” he said. “And put your book back in your bag, Potter, you should have read it before entering this room.”
Sarah sat up straight, gritting her teeth together.
“Where would you look if I told you to find a bezoar?”
Sarah’s lip twitched as she nastily thought, Up your arse. But she only shook her head again. She saw a few people in Ravenclaw had their hands raised hopefully, but the professor kept his eyes on Sarah. He asked her a third question, which she also did not know the answer to, and had a triumphant look in his eyes when he gave her detention.
Zacharias Smith confronted her outside of their History of Magic classroom.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” he demanded, getting much too close to her. Sarah took a step back.
“Don’t blame her,” Susan said, inserting herself between Sarah and Zacharias. Sarah quietly sighed. “Professor Snape was being really mean.”
Sarah’s eyebrows rose. Snape, that was his name. She thought it was a stupid name, which fit her impression of the man.
“He’s already given her detention,” someone added. It was one of the other boys. Ernie something.
Zacharias scoffed, but the door of the classroom opened and there was a ghost waiting for them inside.
Sarah blew on the ink so it would dry faster. She was still annoyed about what happened in Potions. Snape hadn’t stopped bothering her all class. He made her work with someone else, a bubbly girl named Sally-Anne, and lurked near their table to constantly criticize what Sarah was doing. He only stopped when someone melted their cauldron.
When the note she had written was completely dry, Sarah left her dormitory and made her way to the Great Hall.
It was dinner, and it looked like the entire school was in there. Sarah had planned to wait until the end of dinner to get her own meal, but she needed to go during a time Professor Sprout would be there. Snape wanted her to serve detention that evening, the first day of school. It was ridiculous. Sarah did not want to be alone in the same room as him.
Most people were busy eating, talking, or doing both at the same time, but a few noticed Sarah as she walked through the doors. She hugged the wall, making her way towards the head table. Professor Sprout was sitting there, speaking with Professor McGonagall. Snape was also there, as was Hagrid, who was large enough to occupy four spots.
“Hello, Sarah!” boomed Hagrid, alerting everyone in the Great Hall to her presence. Sarah closed her eyes in irritation, but kept walking to the head table.
“What is it, Potter?” asked Professor Sprout, her brow pinched in concern. Sarah glanced at Snape, who was staring daggers at her, and handed Professor Sprout the note she had written.
Sarah waited as Professor Sprout read. It sounded like every single person in the room was talking about her. Certainly they were all looking at her. She knew the first day of school was always hard, but this one felt unusually difficult to her. She disliked all three of the classes she had gone to. Professor Quirrell was hard to understand and seemed to not know what he was doing. Potions might have been fun, if not for Snape being the professor. The excitement of having the ghostly Professor Binns had vanished as soon as Professor Binns started droning on.
She belatedly realized Hedwig might have carried the note for her.
Sarah snorted in frustration.
“Thank you for telling me,” said Professor Sprout finally, folding up the note. “Ten points to Hufflepuff, and consider the detention rescinded. You may join your housemates for dinner.”
Sarah nodded. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise, and noticed Professor Quirrell was looking at her. He was sitting next to Snape, whose expression had darkened at Professor Sprout’s words.
As Sarah walked to her house table, resigned to eating dinner there that evening, she hoped Snape enjoyed the smell.