Harry POV
The morning came, and Harry woke up along with his roommates feeling well-rested and eager for the day.
Down to the great hall for breakfast, Harry sat down facing Hermione while Ron and Neville sat down on other side of him.
"Morning, Hermione," he greeted her. "Sleep well?"
"I did," she said with a nod.
"Do you have nice roommates?" Harry inquired. "Ron and Neville are with me, as are two others boys. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan."
"Oh, Dean? From the Diagon Alley trip? He seemed nice," she said with a smile. "Sally-Anne is in there with me, as is Kellah, Parvati and Lavender. And they seem nice so far."
Harry nodded, recognizing the names from the Sorting last night, as well as Sally-Anne from the Diagon Alley trip as well. He waved politely to her when she came down with Kellah, and then again to Dean Thomas who was with Seamus Finnegan. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil were the last of the first years to come down.
There were only fifty-one First Years at Hogwarts this year, and ten of them were in Gryffindor, making the Lion's House the smallest for that year. Syltherin was tied with Ravenclaw for the most students at fourteen each, and Hufflepuff had the second most with thirteen.
Musing about student numbers and how classes would be conducted was interrupted by a parliament of owls rushing into the great hall, letters and packages tied to their legs.
'I should send a letter to Ed and Sam later,' Harry thought to himself as he watched the owls arrive and deliver their burdens.
Harry resumed eating, making sure to pile his plate high with a balanced diet of meat and fruit. And some toast, fried tomatoes, and beans, because he wasn't going to say no to those! Being able to eat whatever he wanted, and as much as he wanted for every meal? Hogwarts definitely seemed like paradise compared to Privet Drive!
McGonagall passed out the class schedules for the week, and Harry wondered why they did it weekly, instead of monthly, or quarterly?
When he asked the professor as she walked by, she paused, gave him a weird look, and made an off-hand comment about the number seven being important or something, then hurrying off, muttering about talking to Albus about planning ahead for something.
"Ugh, Potions in the morning," Ron grunted when he saw their class line up. He'd already been infected by his siblings' dismissal of the class, though the rest of the First Years at the table seemed cautious and willing to give it a try.
"And with the Slytherins," Neville mumbled unhappily, glancing nervously towards the table where Draco and his cronies were sitting.
"It might not be that bad," Lavender Brown suggested.
"Hope springs eternal," Seamus Finnegan quoted glibly.
Once breakfast was finished, the students in the great hall all scattered to the four corners of the school, and the Gryffindor First Years headed down to the dungeons.
"Odd place to have a potion's classroom," Harry muttered, Hermione and Dean both nodding in agreement, having had enough muggle education to know 'fumes' plus 'enclosed spaces' was a bad idea.
They entered the classroom, and quickly sat down at the desks. The Slytherins were already there, and Harry earned some funny looks from all of the other First Years when he pulled a pair of protective goggles out of his backpack and put them on over his face. Robes were long and sturdy enough to act as aprons and to catch spills, and they already had to wear gloves to handle certain ingredients, so all that was missing was facial protection as far as Harry could tell.
A moment after the students all settled down more or less, Professor Snape stormed into the classroom, robe billowing both ominously and dramatically. His gaze swept over the classroom, and he stumbled a bit when he saw Harry sitting there with goggles on his face.
"Potter, what are you wearing?" he demanded, his initial words replaced by his confusion.
"Protective goggles, sir," Harry said, tapping the side of the plastic eye-covering. "To protect myself from getting any potions in my eyes."
"You will not need them," Snape sneered. "Five points from Gryffindor for being overly prepared."
"We won't be doing any brewing today, then?" Harry asked, resisting the urge to protest the loss of points for being safe.
"Off," Snape demanded one more time, and Harry sighed but complied.
His opening speech derailed slightly, Snape got back on track quickly enough by touting the virtues of the art of potion brewing, and claiming it was the best thing since sliced bread. Or at least, that was the gist Harry got from the man.
"Potter! Since you seemed so eager to do some work today, you should be able to tell me what would I get if I added a powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Snape inquired haughtily, pointing at him out of nowhere after finishing his speech.
"Um, that's… a Draught of Living Death, correct?" Harry replied after a moment to think it over.
Snape's eyes narrowed. "Where would you find a bezoar?"
"A goat? It's sorta like a kidney stone, but wizards can consume them and have it be used as an antidote to most poisons."
"And what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?" Snape demanded.
"They're the same thing. Aconite, right?"
Snape stared at Harry, and Harry stared back, but very carefully made sure not to look directly in his eyes, as he remembered the pain from last night at the feast, and also recalled Edward's warning about Occlumency's sister discipline, Legilimency.
'Was he trying to probe my mind last night?' Harry couldn't help but wonder. 'Was that why my head ached a bit when I looked at him?'
Harry didn't feel anything new pounding against his mental barriers, but he avoiding looking directly at the teacher, just in case.
Snape continued to stare down at him for bit, before sneering and spinning around to the chalkboard where he jotted down a potion recipe and the instructions for brewing it.
"You have until the end of class to show me that you are not complete dunderheads by brewing a simple Boil Removing potion!" Snape instructed.
"Oh, so we are making something in the lab today," Harry muttered in annoyance under his breath. Ron, who was sitting next to him, snorted in amusement, but quickly pretended to be looking elsewhere when Snape's head snapped towards him.
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