Even worse than Peeves, however, was the caretaker, Argus Filch. Harry and Ron heard about a small group of first years 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 wouldn't believe they were lost, was sure they were trying to break into it on purpose, and was threatening to lock them in the dungeons and hang them by the wrists when they were rescued by Professor Quirrell, who was passing. 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 passageways of the school better than anyone (except perhaps the Weasley twins) and could pop up as suddenly as any of the ghosts. The students all hated him, and it was the dearest ambition of many to give Mrs. Norris a good kick. Sufice to say Filch and Norris would also disapear one day the same way Peeves did.
But back to the topic of classes.
The time tables were distributed at breakfast, and the griffindor first years had charms as their first class of the day. Harry, guided by the clarvoiance spell, leaded Ron to the classroom. Ron was ecstatic that Harry already knew magic and wandless at that.
Harry had attempted to use his wand to channel a few spells he knew from skyrim during the period he had it, sadly to no avail. Skyrim's magic system was too diferent from the one from the wizarding world, making wands incompatible with it. He also tryed some simple wizarding world spells, and similarly they worked with the wand, but not with his hand. So the way out was using his bare hand to cast spells from skyrim and his wand to cast the spells from the wizarding world. Thankfully, Harry had 2 hands and was ambidextrous.
Arriving at the classroom, they were greated by Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, he was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their class he took the roll call, and when he reached Harry's name he gave an excited squeak and toppled over.
Getting his bearings back, the teacher continued as if nothing had happened.
Flitwick then went on and on about his subject, what were charms, what were its dangers and other general stuff. Having read the material in advance, Harry found this first class a bit dull, but he paid attention nonthenless. Harry so far only had sucess with the simplest spells of the wizarding world, so he had to pay attention to class. 'Feels weird to be a novice again, but it is what it is.' Harry thought.
After charms class, it was transfiguration time, and once again, claravoiance-chan saved the day by not making our hero forever lost in the maze the school called its corridors.
Professor McGonagall wasn't a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave the class a talking-to the moment the last student 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 needle. Harry found transfiguration similar to alteration magic in some aspects, and was able to turn his match into metal, but not much else. By the end of the lesson, only him and Hermione Granger had made any difference to their match; Professor McGonagall showed the class how Hermione's it had gone all silver(even if it was still made of wood) and pointy and gave both Hermione and Harry a rare smile.
"Good job Hermione." Harry complimented and the girl smiled.
"You too." The girl answered.
The class Ron 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 the class was not sure they believed this story. For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly 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 that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went. Harry wondered how diferent vampires were in each universe.
The next class was potions, but only after lunch break. Harry and Ron sat toghether and Hermione soon joined in silence.
As the mighty dragonborn inhale-*cough*, ate, his food, the mail arrived. Harry had expected it now, but it had given him a bit of a shock on the 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.
Harry had not recieved anything in the morning, but now an owl landed next to him and droped a leter that was hanging on its beak onto Harry's plate. Harry tore it open at once. It said, in a very untidy scrawl:
[Dear Harry,
Hello, do you remember me? my name is Hagrid, we have met but not spoken yet, I was the one who guided the first years into the castle.
Anyway, I wanted to talk to you because I was friends with your parents and I wanted to meet their son. 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 me an answer via the owl that delivered the letter.
Hagrid]
Harry borrowed Ron's quill, scribbled [Yes, see you then] on the back of the note, and sent the owl 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 lesson so far. All the exitement the dragonborn had to learn potions died that day.
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 henchman Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black and held no 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 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."
'That speech reminds me of Ingun Black-Briar. They would get along toghether.' Harry thought.
Silence followed this little speech. Hermione 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?"
"Draugh of living death, sir." Harry answered after searshing his memories a little, the answer was in the textbooks he read. although he wondered why was he beeing quized before beeing taught anything.
Snape looked displesed.
'Did I got it wrong?' Harry thought confused, as he was quite sure he got it right.
"Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" Snape asked another question.
"The stomach of a goat?" Harry answered, less sure this time.
The teacher's frown intensified. Harry was now sure he got it wrong.
"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
"They are the same plant sir, and also go by aconite." Harry ansered with a smile, this one he knew he got right. "Also, may I ask why are you asking me all these questions when you have not taught us anything yet?"
"15points from griffindor for your cheek, mister Potter!" Snape said livid.
"My cheek?" Harry asked confused, what does a bodypart had to do with anything.
Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. And Harry finaly figured out that Snape was biased to his own house and seemed to dislike the dragonborn in particular, Harry had looked up the questions Snape asked him on his book, and look and behold, the boy had got them all right, when he confronted the professor about it, he just lost more points. 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 everyone who was not slitherin. 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. Harry would cure the boy, but Snape was faster.
"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 15 points you've lost for Gryffindor."
This was so unfair that Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Ron kicked him behind their cauldron.
"Don't push it," he muttered, "I've heard Snape can turn very nasty."
As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, Harry had another target on his "to make disapear" list. How did the headmaster let so many of those elements near kids was beyond him. 'Maybe the headmaster himself needs to disapear...' thought the boy.