Fred and George and the Toilers of Trouble (Year 1) ✔

Chapter 6:2

Their first day of term had begun in the school greenhouses with Herbology and the rotund Professor Sprout. Since they were allowed to share a table with another house, the twins chose Hufflepuff so they could exchange experiences with Cedric (who also wouldn't laugh at their pathetic badger skin gloves). As it was the first class, they learned how to prepare dirt for growing magical herbs, which the Weasleys accomplished better than anyone. If there was one thing the twins knew, it was how to tend a magical garden. Since their family never had enough money, they grew most of their food behind the Burrow, which was why they also had the largest population of pesky garden gnomes in all of Britain. Fred and George's efforts earned Gryffindor five house points, and kicked off a string of rumors about the prophecy. Seeing this, Lee Jordan was jealous that the twins had sat with Diggory. Being born into privilege, Lee was uncertain how to handle the magical dirt, and his robes were soiled by the end of the lesson.

Then came Potions with the pallid professor, Severus Snape, which began in a cold and craggy dungeon classroom and ended with the twins earning their first detention with the caretaker, Mr. Filch. Unlike the frazzled Professor Sprout, who showed up five minutes into the lesson, Professor Snape was standing at the open door as his students filed into the dungeon. One by one, he judged them from between long greasy threads of black hair, his sharp eyes peering over a large beak of a nose, which trembled in each breath. After Fred and George entered the Potions classroom, their hauntingly dark professor approached the immense cauldron resting beside his desk and scoffed.

In a lyrical drone, he welcomed them by flourishing a cutting from the most recent edition of the magical newspaper. "Why if it isn't The Brothers Grinn. Twins with flaming red hair. I believe the celebrities..." he declared, accenting the word with derision, "...have arrived. Let me be the first to assure you Gryffindors that notoriety in this world is earned through decades of careful and precise magical training, and not, as you may have presumed, through trickery and lies. Now...be seated."

Tenice Montague and the other Slytherin students enjoyed watching the impromptu scolding from the back of the room. When their professor turned to approach his desk, Montague kicked an empty ink pot across the flagstone floor into George's stool.

Snape heard the clattering noise and eyed them suspiciously. Releasing a nasal, displeased breath, he carried on in a poetic whisper.

"Before we begin on the importance of cauldron cleanliness, turn your attention to the specimen vials on the shelf to my right." He gestured to a row of thick glass jars, where stagnant creatures were floating in tinted sludge. Angelina Johnson turned away, looking revolted. "You mustn't avert your eyes. This class will disgust you more often than not. It will also bewitch you. Take it in, for at the closing of your final year at Hogwarts, you will have learned to respect how the timing of a bursting bubble could save your eyesight — that regrown limbs and sudden, agonizing death is the difference between two drops of Maldosian syrup and three — and how a faint smell caught in your nose at the moment of consumption can protect you from a thousand years of writhing, unnecessary pain."

"Must be easy for anything to get caught in that nose," Fred mused, just loud enough to be heard by all those around his table. Lee, and Angelina covered up their regretful laughter with a series of coughs and grunts.

Snape spun on his heels and raised a single eyebrow in their direction, his black cloak billowing at his sides. When he spoke, each word was precisely measured. His eyes never left them. "As expected. What do the words of a seasoned instructor matter to those who are destined at birth to shine brighter than us all? Prophecies imagined, they said. Now that we've met them, class, what do we think?"

"Not very serious about their education," said Roger Davies.

"No better than Muggles, Professor," Montague added coolly.