Y/n Black is an 11-year-old girl, who is the daughter of the notorious mass murderer Sirius Black. She embarks on a new journey to the magical school that is Hogwarts.
Worried that her father's reputation will cause her to be outcasted by the other...
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The Potions Classroom buzzed with activity, an array of cauldrons positioned carefully along the length of the tables that are extended throughout the room. Y/n finds herself sitting next to Ron, who shy's awkwardly away from her. He mumbles something to himself while scooting his chair a bit away from her. She rolls her eyes, finding that this motion agitating Y/n further, so she snaps and pushes Ron to get his attention. "Hey Weasley, I'm not going to hurt you if that's what you think." She hissed as he looked at her with wide eyes in surprise by her comment.
"No, I uh." Ron stutters, scrunching his face uncomfortably while trying to make any coherent words form out of his mouth.
"Listen here Ronald, I don't know what you've heard. But I am not like my father. Maybe get to know me before making a snap judgment of me." Y/n spats slamming her books on the table turning away from him. "Bloody twit..." She mutters to herself, while Ron just looks at her slightly scared. A hint of guilt emanating in his eyes, but he quickly clears his throat and looks away from Y/n.
Y/n's gaze falls onto the table to the left of her, where Harry and Hermione are sat. The two of them awkwardly looked away from her almost in sync. She groans, dropping her head. Causing her forehead to smack against the table softly. Her incoherent mutters fill the air around her, while the door to the classroom opens unbeknownst to Y/n.
"Y/n... Pst!" Ron hisses in a whisper, nudging her arm trying to get her attention, but she doesn't budge. "Pst sit up... he's here" He warns taking his foot and kicking it against Y/n's foot, but she still keeps her head on the table in front of her.
"Leave me be Weasley." Y/n mumbles not really listening to what he's saying, choosing to keep her head down until class begins.
Professor Snape, who had previously just walked into the classroom, makes his way over to Ron and Y/n's table clearing his throat. "Miss Black," His voice jolted Y/n up, now sitting straight once again wide eyed. "It'd be wise... to not take naps in my class."
Y/n shakes her head, opening her mouth to try and justify why she had her head on the table. But she quickly shuts her mouth and drops her gaze to her books down in front of her. "Yes, professor."
Snape moves back to the front of the class looking out at the students, his eyes narrowing out towards them. "There will be no foolish wand waving or silly incantations in this class." He declares with measured emphasis. "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..." Professor Snape's piercing gaze lingering upon Draco Malfoy, a smug grin dancing across his lips.
"I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death. "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." Snapes gaze moving to Harry, who blinks in surprise at the sudden spotlight put on him.
His gaze switched between Harry and Y/n, before staying on Harry. "Mr. Potter. One of our new... celebrities. Tell me. What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" He states, Y/n looks over to see Harry looking completely lost. At the sight of Hermione's hand shooting up into the air ready to answer the question, Y/n follows after. Her hand shooting up into the air, a sense of competition washing over her.
