Before the Dawn | George Weasley

5

I was the first student to arrive at Potions class the following morning. I found myself hovering awkwardly in the empty classroom, wishing I had waited to walk with Jamie.

The silence was broken by the arrival of Professor Snape, who took a seat at his desk seemingly without even realising I was there.

"Good morning, Professor," I kept my voice low with the hopes of not startling him.

He looked up sharply, his dark eyes fixed on me. After a moment, he nodded to me. "Miss Doyle."

I took a seat at a desk to the side of the room, turning around to see if any other students were arriving to break the tension. It was a few minutes before anyone else showed.

Angelina Johnson was the first to show, and my shoulders dipped with relief at the sight of her. She smiled vaguely at me before taking a seat near but not next to mine, pulling out her textbook and setting it on the desk in front of her. Students began trickling in after her, some more familiar than others.

I expected Jamie would fill the empty seat next to me, or perhaps Miles if he made it in time. But neither of them did. No, when I looked up, it was a very familiar ginger-haired boy.

"Broomstick flew like magic this morning." George grinned at me.

"I thought it might." I made eye contact with Jamie over his shoulder, who had just arrived and looked suddenly confused as to where she should sit, having expected to sit next to me. But George was already pulling out his text and slamming it on his desk; my desk was apparently full up.

"Oi, Doylie!" a voice hissed behind me. I turned to see Fred sitting at the desk there, Lee settling into the seat next to him. "Think you can do my broom next?"

I threw George a hard stare. He gave a sheepish smile.

"Welcome to your first day of Potions class." Snape's flat voice marked the start of class, and I turned to face forward. "I hope you are content with whom you sit next to, as they will be your Potions partner for the rest of the year."

I cast an anxious glance at George. "Are you any good at Potions?" I whispered.

"It's my best class, unfortunately," he whispered back.

"I hope you're ready to carry the team, then." I flashed him an apologetic smile. "I'm complete rubbish."

He just shrugged, unconcerned. "We'll manage."

Snape paused beside our desk as he paced the classroom, fixing us with a steely stare. George and I fell silent, pointedly avoiding eye contact with the professor.

After a few tense heartbeats, Snape continued on. "This course's materials will be centered around practical applications of the science of potion-making."

I tuned Snape's voice out and snuck a look at George. He caught my eye and winked.

* * * * * *

The first month of classes passed. Potions was surprisingly not my least favourite class; in fact, I felt myself looking forward to the previously-dreaded class more and more with each week. 

History of Magic took the prize of dullest class this year. It was first-thing in the morning, even earlier than Potions. Miles and I usually walked straight there from our early-morning Quidditch practice, sat in the back of the classroom, and slept through the entire lesson. Catarina could usually be talked into sharing her notes with us, although it was unclear how much longer she would put up with our begging before we'd have to turn elsewhere—and neither Miles nor I had any interest in actually staying awake in class to take our own notes.