Chapter Four; A Lonely Ghost

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The Great Hall was already filled with chatter by the time I had made it down from the sixth floor. There were far too many stairs for my liking, which led me to the question of if escalators were something we could replicate with magic. It most likely is, considering some of the accomplishments magic folk had accomplished that non-magic people haven't.

Quickly locating Neville, I sat down beside him, only after seeing some other people sitting with friends from other houses.

"Good morning Y/N." He shakily greeted me. I gave a hum in response, grabbing two pieces of toast and putting some butter on it. We ate in silence, only speaking when we had both received our schedules. It was somewhat amusing to watch the small Professor Flitwick waddle around the hall to give all the Ravenclaws their schedules. Examining both of our schedules, we realized we didn't have together was Potions, Transfiguration, and Astronomy. Quite excited that we'd be spending quite a few classes together, we shared a high-five, earning us some weird looks from the others arounds us. Heat rushed to both of our faces but seeing each others reaction caused us to burst into a fit of giggles.

Noticing some older students leaving the hall, we quickly ate our breakfast and left the hall. We waved goodbye to each other, as I had Potions and Neville had Transfiguration. It took some direction from older students to find out where the classroom was but I managed to make my way towards the potions classroom, which was in the dungeons. Why the school has dungeons is slightly concerning and definitely not something I would ever mention to Mum.

Until the bell rang, the rest of the first year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were lined up outside the oak door, in the very cold dungeon. Some of us were shivering and small groups of friends were huddling like penguins. Thankfully, once the bell rang through the halls, the door opened by itself and slammed behind us when we were all huddled in the entrance of the room. Several of us jumped and I swore someone screamed.

The Potions room was very dim, only faint light from the few torches lit the room. Tables with enough room for four students each were strewn around the room, somewhat haphazardly. I choose a table in the middle of the room, being joined later by Terry Boot, Justin Finch-Fletchly, and Hannah Abbott. After some small talk, we waited for our professor.

The moment the last student sat down on their stool, the door swung back open and a greasy, black haired teacher strutted into the room, his cape billowing behind him. He definitely did not look like someone you could confide in, with a permanent scowl on his face, a hooked nose, and black eyes that held nothing, absolutely nothing, were not quite welcoming either.

He started class with roll call, sometimes looking up at a student if he recognized a last name from when he was a student.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and the exact art that is Potions." Snape drawled, bored as though he gave this speech each year. He most likely did, he did not seem very creative with speeches. "There will be little foolish wand-waving here. I expect few of you to appreciate the shimmering fumes from a simmering cauldron, the delicate power of the liquid that runs through your veins, bewitching minds, ensnaring senses. I can teach you how to brew fame, bottle glory, even put a stopper in death – assuming you aren't a bunch of dunderheads." He looked into the eyes of each student as he spoke, walking around the classroom. Several students cowered before him. 

"Now, do any of you know what I would get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" He spoke as if he was assuming we didn't. I, however, think I remember reading about it in one of the required books. 

Hoping I was correct, I raised my hand hesitantly. Snape looked down on me, expecting me to answer without any verbal permission. 

"I believe you'd get a sleeping potion powerful enough that it is known as the Drought of Living Death." I answered, standing from my stool.

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