Articles & Letters
Charles
Charles was annoyed. Hermione Granger was such a know-it-all! While he understood her intentions were good, she wasn't too helpful when she tried. It seemed like she was trying to make them all look stupid, and it was offensive sometimes.
Lyra was friends with the girl, why Charles wouldn't know. He knew enough to safely say that Lyra tolerated the girl not because she really liked her, but because she was an asset. That was the way of Slytherins. Still, Charles didn't think she was worth the trouble.
Their first potions class of the year just added to his temper. They had it with the Slytherins down in one of the dungeons, so Charles chose Lyra as his partner. His specialty was Transfiguration, like his dad, but he was dreadful at Potions. Lyra, on the other hand, was brilliant.
Snape started the class by taking the roll call, and he paused at Charles' name.
"Ah, Yes," he said softly, "Charles 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 the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "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."
More silence followed this little speech. Charles and Lyra exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. They had met the man before, and they had known how he was, but this was... it seemed like he was trying to scare off all the children instead of teaching them. There was a challenge in his tone, and his impressive speech was ruined due to the insults laced in it. 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?"
Charles glanced at Lyra, who didn't meet his eyes. Ron looked as stumped as he was, and Granger's hand had shot into the air.
"I don't know, sir," said Charles.
Snape's lips curled into a sneer.
"Tut, tut -- fame clearly isn't everything."
He ignored Granger'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. "In your potions cabinet? Sir?"
Snape scowled. "Two points for cheek, Potter. What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling.
"I don't know," said Charles quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"
A few people laughed; Charles caught Seamus's eye, and Seamus winked. Snape, however, was not pleased at all. "Sit down." he snapped at Granger. "Let's try with Ms. Black. Can you answer any of the questions put to your cousin?"
"All of them, sir." Lyra seemed bored as she listed the answers. "Asphodel and wormwood make a powerful sleeping potion, 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. Monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant, also called aconite."
"Ten points to Slytherin, Ms. Black." Snape seemed impressed. "Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"
Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape 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 and Lyra, whom he seemed to like and who really were quite good at the subject. 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!" 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 Charles, 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 Charles opened his mouth to argue, but Lyra kicked him behind their cauldron.
"Don't push it," she muttered, "I've heard Snape can turn very nasty."
"Easy for you to say." Charles hissed back at her. "You're the star student already."
As they climbed out of the dungeon steps, Ron and Neville proposed to come with him to Hagrid's. Charles invited Lyra too, but she declined in favor of going to the library with Hermione.
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 Charles 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," Charles 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 and Harry Potter and his gang away from the forest."
The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth, but they pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about their first lessons. Fang rested his head on Charles' knee and drooled all over his robes.
"How's yer brother Charlie?" Hagrid asked Ron. "I liked him a lot - great with animals."
While Ron told Hagrid all about Charlie's work with dragons, Charles picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy. It was a cutting from the Daily Prophet:
GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATES
Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown.
Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.
"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.
Charles remembered Ron telling him on the train that someone had tried to rob Gringotts, but Ron hadn't mentioned the date.
"Hagrid!" said Charles, "that Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were there! I remember seeing you, too, but I couldn't say hi!"
Hagrid grunted and offered him another rock cake, not meeting his eyes. Charles read the story again. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that same day. He had himself spotted Hagrid emptying vault seven hundred and thirteen, taking out a grubby little package. Charles hadn't paid it much attention, though.
As Charles, Ron, and Neville walked back to the castle for dinner, their pockets weighed down with rock cakes they'd been too polite to refuse, Charles thought that none of the lessons he'd had so far had given him as much to think about as tea with Hagrid. Had Hagrid collected that package just in time? Where was it now?
Lyra
Dear Lyra,
Congratulations on making Slytherin, sweetheart. I suppose we don't have a cub in the house now, though, eh?
Anyway, you don't have to worry, in case you were wondering. I don't mind which house you're in. No matter what James thought about me blowing up or whatever... To be completely honest, it wasn't a total shock. You were bound to be either a snake or a lion, and I guess you chose the former. Unless you start spewing purity rubbish, I still love you!
I'm planning on coming to Harry's first Quidditch match, so I guess I'll see you then.
Who are your friends? And how's Charles? He isn't mad, is he?
Your loving Dad,
Sirius
Lyra finished the letter with a small smile on her face as she readied her reply. She was in the library with Hermione, the others already having left for the common room.
Dear dad,
Thanks for being cool about this. I was worried a tiny bit, but not anymore.
As for my friends, they're Daphne Greengrass, Blaise Zabini, Theo Nott, and Hermione Granger. The lattermost is a Gryffindor muggle-born, who's a bit of a know-it-all, but alright once you get to know her. And everything's alright with Charles, too.
I had my first lesson with Professor Snape today, and he favours his house too much. He's biased. Still, I think he's fine. He already likes me and Malfoy, as we're the best along with Hermione. He hates Charles though, and his not knowing any answers and being cheeky didn't help.
One more thing, dad. I know first-years aren't allowed brooms... but there's nothing in the rules about them not being on the team, is there?
I look forward to seeing you at the match.
Lots of love,
Lyra
Before leaving for the owlery, Lyra left some books on the table. As she headed out, she could feel a grin spreading on her face.