The Raven's Call

Emotions

Once Transfiguration is over, I head to my next class, noticing Alex and Asteria are heading the same way. "You guys have Potions too?" I ask, and they both respond with a nod. The three of us chat among ourselves as we make our way down to the dungeons.

We take our seats in Potions class, the tables large enough to seat six students. The room is cavernous, with pickled creatures suspended in glass jars along the walls. A basin in one corner constantly trickles cold water from the mouth of a gargoyle, while the student supply cupboard stands in another. I pull out my books and wand, preparing myself, but then I'm jolted by the sudden slam of the door.

"There will be no foolish wand waving or silly incantations in this class," Professor Snape's voice rings out, sending a chill through the room. "As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making. However, for those select few who possess the predisposition, I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death."

Snape glares at Harry, his long nose almost touching the boy's head. "Then again, maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possession of abilities so formidable that you feel confident enough to... not pay attention."

Hermione nudges Harry, finally making him look up at Snape. The professor marches to Harry's desk and delivers his next question with a sneer:

"Mr. Potter. Our... new... celebrity. Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Both Hermione and I raise our hands, knowing the answer. Harry just shrugs, not responding.

"You don't know? Well, let's try again," Snape says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. The two of us lower our hands, and he turns his icy gaze back to Harry.

"Where, Mr. Potter, would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?" he demands. Hermione and I raise our hands again. Harry doesn't answer.

"And what is the difference between monkshood and wolfbane?" Snape continues, his eyes flicking to us, watching our raised hands. Harry doesn't answer again.

Snape glowers, his voice cutting the silence. "Pity. Clearly, fame isn't everything... is it, Mr. Potter?"

Hermione lowers her hand slowly, and I feel Alex beside me stir. "Clearly Atticus knows," Alex speaks up, his tone light but pointed. "Seems a pity not to ask him."

"Silence!" Snape snaps, his gaze snapping to Alex, looking slightly offended. He strides back to his desk, muttering, "And put your hand down, you silly boy."

He turns back to Harry. "For your information, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful, it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat, and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfbane, they are the same plant, also known as aconite."

The room falls into an uncomfortable silence, with everyone scribbling down notes.

"And Gryffindors," Snape adds, his eyes narrowing on Harry, "five points will be taken from your house for your classmate's cheek."

I sink lower into my seat, but I manage to whisper, "Thank you," to Alex, who gives me an encouraging smile in return.

***

After Potions, lunch was next, so we head into the Great Hall and take our seats with our respective houses. The room hums with chatter as students catch up over their meals. Just as I start eating a sandwich, I hear a familiar chant from the Gryffindor table:

"Eye of rabbit, harp string hum. Turn this water, into rum."

I chuckle under my breath, but before I can take another bite, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around to see none other than my brother, Cedric, smiling down at me. I jump up and give him a tight hug.

"Ravenclaw, huh?" He asks, his voice full of surprise.

"Believe me, I'm just as surprised as you are," I say with a soft smile.

"You're going to be a great addition to Ravenclaw, you're very bright," Cedric assures me.

"Thanks," I reply, my voice filled with warmth.

BANG!

We both turn to see where the explosion had come from. It was Seamus Finnegan, the little Irish Gryffindor, who had clearly messed up a spell. Laughter erupts across the room, and I see Hermione batting away smoke with her hand.

Then comes the familiar sound of owls squawking.

"Mail!" a student exclaims as the owls swoop in, dropping letters in front of us. I smile as an owl lands on the table in front of me and drops a letter from Amos. I open it up, and Cedric leans over to read it with me.

Dear Atticus,

I hope you're enjoying your first day. Cedric wrote to me last night to say you were placed in Ravenclaw, and I couldn't be more proud. I am proud to call you my son.

Love,
Your father,
Amos Diggory.

A tear rolls down my cheek as Cedric wraps his arms around me. "We're both proud of you," he whispers softly as I cry more happy tears.

"What class do you have next?" He asks as I break the hug.

"Uhm..." I sniffle, pulling my timetable from my pocket. "Flying."

He smiles at me. "I'll walk with you after lunch."

"Hey, look!" Dean Thomas calls out. "Neville's got a Remembrall!"

"I've read about those!" Hermione exclaims excitedly. "When the smoke turns red, it means you've forgotten something."

"The only problem is, I can't remember what I've forgotten," Neville says sadly.

Alex bursts out laughing. "Your robes, Neville! You've forgotten your robes!"

The rest of the Gryffindors erupt into laughter, and even I can't help but chuckle.