A/N: Yay! It’s finally parting from the books.

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It took several days to get used to life at Hogwarts. After several different occasions when I ran into ghosts, I got used to seeing them float through the halls. Some of them were really friendly, and gave me directions to classes. This was a huge help, because the stairways and doors moved and changed so frequently that I was lost every time I left a room. But others weren’t quite so pleasant. On Tuesday, I ran into a poltergeist named Peeves, who hovered in my path, refusing to let me pass. When I turned around, deciding to find another corridor that led to my destination, he flung pieces of chalk at my back, getting the white powder all over my black robes. Draco Malfoy’s little gang of Slytherins teased me about it for days afterwards.

When I finally arrived at my classes, I found they weren’t all fun and games like I imagined. Some were great, like Herbology, where we studied magical plants with a cool teacher named Professor Sprout, and Astronomy, where we went up to a tall tower at Midnight to look up at the stars. Professor Flitwick’s Charm class seemed pretty fun, too. I thought History of Magic would be interesting, since Professor Binns who taught the subject was a ghost, but he ended up being the most boring person I’ve ever met, and his lectures often left me drowsy as I desperately tried to take notes. Transfigurations, taught by Professor McGonagall, seemed promising, especially when she started the first class by transforming her desk into a pig, but we spent most of the period taking notes and she told us we were going to be starting off very small – turning matches to needles. I think my least favorite class was Professor Quirrell’s; Defense Against the Dark Arts seemed like such an exciting subject, but his stuttering made him nearly impossible to understand sometimes, and he was so superstitious and cowardly that the class seemed like a complete joke. Also, the room smelled so strongly of garlic (which he said was to ward off vampires) that it made me sick. One afternoon, when I was doing homework with Steve in the Library, he told me that he had asked Quirrell about vampires. Steve thought that Quirrell was lying about meeting them, because he refused to answer any questions.

Well, on Friday, Defense Against the Dark Arts lost its status as my least favorite class.

Friday started out a good day. Every morning during breakfast, owls would pour in through the windows and deliver mail to their owners. I hadn’t had time to finish my letter to my parents, and no one else around me had gotten mail yet, so I still wasn’t entirely sure how it worked. But on Friday, Hedwig came swooping down onto the table and showed Harry a piece of parchment that was tied to her ankle. Hagrid had invited him to tea. It made me even more excited to send mail to my family, just to get something in return, so I decided to write my letter and send it that day.

It turned out we had double Potions with Slytherin. I hadn’t had Potions yet, but I was looking forward to it because I would be able to talk to Steve. Usually, we were only able to talk to each other in the corridors or in the Library while we did homework. I was so eager that I dragged Ron and Harry to class early. Potions was held in the dungeons, nearby where Steve said the Slytherin dormitories were. Inside the classroom, the walls were lined with jars of cool things that smelled. As everyone else started coming for class, they all sat at tables in pairs. All of the Slytherins sat on one side, and all of the Gryffindors sat in another. Except for me and Steve – we sat at a table together in the back of the room. Other Slytherins and Gryffindors gave us strange looks. Did Houses really mean so much that we couldn’t sit together?

When the teacher, Professor Snape, entered the room he was in a really foul mood. I quickly got the impression that he wasn’t just in a foul mood, but was foul all the time. He got right down to business and took role, pausing at Harry Potter’s name to make a comment that was pretty rude. Over the past week, I had noticed everyone giving special attention to Harry. Other kids would whisper and giggle about him in the halls, and people would stare whenever he was in the vicinity. I felt bad for him, but not nearly as bad as when Snape called him Hogwart’s “new celebrity” in a voice that could have frozen over Hell.

He started to lecture. Not about Potions, but about how he disliked teaching stupid kids and other comments that made me absolutely hate him. I noticed he was picking on Harry especially bad, asking him questions that no one in the class probably knew, except the know-it-all girl named Hermione, who we had seen on the train, and who also had been sorted into Gryffindor. Rather than pay attention to his harsh words, I pulled out my half-finished letter to my family, and worked to finish it. As I was writing, Steve pulled a piece of parchment from his bags and wrote me a note –

What are you writing?

I wrote back –

A letter to my family. Did you send anything to your mom yet?

No.

I can’t believe this guy. He’s being such a jerk.

Calm down. What if he sees this?

He won’t. He’s too busy harassing Harry. What has Harry done to him?

It probably has more to do with Harry’s fame and reputation than anything he has actually done.

So? He’s still being an ass. Did you hear? He just took a point away from Gryffindor!

I’m sure there’s a reason for it.

Why are you sticking up for him?

He’s the Head of my House.

So? McGonagall’s Head of Gryffindor, but I sure didn’t stick up for her when she assigned us all that homework.

Snape changed the subject to potions finally, so we stopped our writing to each other so that we could take notes. The notes were pretty complicated instructions on a potion that was to cure boils. After taking the notes, we started making the potion itself. It was a lot more difficult that I would have thought – we had to weigh, crush, measure, and add things in at exactly the right moments. It was supposed to turn a specific texture, with a specific color, a specific type of smoke, and have a specific smell. Everyone was having varying degrees of success. Snape would walk around the room, his robes billowing out behind him, making him look like a vampire from the old movies. He would snap at everyone, saying that they were doing something wrong. When he got to my table, I was ready to punch him.

“Isn’t this strange… Steve Leonard, working with a Gryffindor?” Snape said. “There is an odd number of Slytherins this year. Did you draw the short straw?”

“Me and Steve are friends,” I replied through gritted teeth.

“I,” Snape retorted.

“What?” I asked, puzzled.

“Steve and I, Shan. Have you never had a grammar lesson before? I’m shocked they are allowing such ignorant students into Hogwarts these days. This used to be an excellent school,” Snape snarled. He peered down the length of his nose into the tray of crushed snake fangs sitting beside my cauldron. “The snake fangs are poorly crushed.”

“I know grammar, Sir,” I said to him, and before I stopped myself, I added, “And we weren’t finished crushing the fangs when you got here.”

“The Gryffindors are certainly a rude bunch this year,” he hissed, “I think I’ll take another point away for your mouth, Shan.”

Ugh! I wanted to pick up my cauldron and pour its contents onto his head. I wanted to yell at the top of my lungs and throw my books across the room. I wanted to pound my fists into the table until it cracked. I wanted to storm out of the room, slam the door behind me, and scream curse words as I marched down the hall. But instead, I let my head fall, and said to him, “I’m sorry, Sir. I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Next time maybe you’ll think before you open that mouth of yours,” he said, and went on to torture the other students.

After class, Harry went to meet up with Hagrid and invited us to go with him. I declined, saying I had to go the owlry and send my letter home. He and Ron left me alone, which I admit I was grateful for – I was in such a bad mood! I passed Steve in the hall, he was talking to his new friend Theodore Nott, but when he saw me he left Theodore and joined me.

“I have to send this, too,” he explained, waving a short note in my face as we walked. I didn’t answer, but simply nodded. I was so angry that he hadn’t stood up for me during class. “Darren, don’t let Snape get to you,” he said quietly.

“How can I not let it get to me? You saw how vicious he was!” I snarled.

“I know this sounds stupid, but I think it’s all a façade,” Steve said.

“A what?” I asked.

“A façade – he’s pretending to act that way. Just listen,” he assured me, when he saw my expression of disbelief, “Draco Malfoy is a complete prick. The first day of classes we had a huge fight, and we both got detention. When I was alone with Snape, he was civil. In fact, he seemed pretty understanding.”

“What did he say?” I inquired, now interested.

“Well, he basically said there’s always someone like Malfoy to put you down. He wouldn’t do anything about it, though. I think he wants to look really mean for everyone else, so that they know not to mess around with him,” Steve replied.

“So you and Malfoy are still fighting?”

“No,” he answered. “Snape sent me to the Headmaster. The Headmaster said that Malfoy came from a family that firmly believed only purebloods should be allowed in Hogwarts. He said most Slytherins felt that way, which is why I wasn’t welcome in the House. He said not to fight Malfoy because I shouldn’t blame him, but to blame his parents instead. I told him I couldn’t – as long as Malfoy was treating me badly, I wasn’t going to stop fighting. So he spoke to Malfoy. Malfoy teased me about running to the Headmaster for help, but hasn’t spoken to me since. I think the Headmaster said something that really shook him up, maybe threatened to expel him.”

“So you spoke to Dumbledore?” I asked, in awe.

“Yeah,” Steve said. “I liked him a lot. He seems really loony when you first meet him, but I realized he’s a brilliant man. It felt like he really cared about my problem.”

We had reached the owlry and went inside. Owls were everywhere, resting on perches or circling the room. It was warmer than the rest of the castle, because there were lots of opened windows inside of it. The floor was coated in owl dung, and it smelled so bad that I wanted to cover my nose.

Athena and Strix were perched together, and immediately flew over when they saw us. I fastened the letters to Athena’s leg, as Hagrid’s letter had been fastened to Hedwig’s. “Take this home, Athena. You remember how to get there, don’t you?” I instructed her. Ron had told me a few days ago that owls knew where to deliver the letters as long as you told them who it was for. I hoped he was right, because I had not trained Athena about delivering mail at all. I walked over to the nearest window and released her.

Athena’s shape became smaller and smaller as she flew towards the horizon. It was a beautiful day outside, and the sun was warm on my cheeks. Suddenly, I noticed Athena was immobile, and the sky around her was hazy, as if I was looking at a mirage.

“Steve, what’s going on?” I asked, pointing towards Athena’s frozen form.

Steve looked confused. “Strix, go help her!” he commanded. Strix flew from his arm and out the window, cutting through the air like a bullet. But when he neared Athena, he stopped moving, too.

“What’s going on?” I repeated, gesturing wildly towards the birds that had frozen in midair.

“It’s magic,” Steve said, “It must be. A bird can’t be still and remain airborne. Find a teacher or something, and tell us that someone is preventing us from sending letters.”

For a moment, I hesitated. And in that moment I saw both birds drop from the sky and fall into the forest below. I bolted from my spot by the window, out the door, and down the stairs. I ran through corridors, my robes whipping against my legs. Every step I took sent a jolt of pain through my spine, because I was wearing bad shoes for running, and the floor was always hard stone. But I had played soccer for years, and I was not winded easily.

Who should I ask for help? Flitwick? Dumbledore? McGonagall would probably be my best bet. But unfortunately, the first teacher I ran into was none of the above.

“Stop!” bellowed a voice.

I skidded to a stop and doubled over, panting to catch my breath.

“Why are you running in the halls? Do you want me to take more points from Gryffindor?” Snape snarled.

“No, Sir,” I immediately replied. “I was sending an owl home, but I think something happened. She was fine, but all of a sudden she just stopped and fell… I think someone did it on purpose, to intercept my letter.”

“Don’t be foolish,” Snape said. “Why would anyone want some eleven year old boy’s letter? Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds?”

“I know it sounds stupid,” I said, “But why else would that happened?”

“Perhaps because you have overworked your owl,” he replied, “Or else you’ve trained her poorly. Don’t jump to conclusions. By the way, I’m feeling generous. You won’t lose points for running in the hall. But if I see it happen one more time, you’ll lose twenty. Do you understand?”

My face fell, and I didn’t have the heart to answer him. I turned away and trudged back up the stairs, to tell Steve that our owls were doomed. Civil? Understanding? Neither of those words vaguely described Snape, and I found myself wondering if Steve knew what they meant at all.