As the first few weeks passed by, Orla found it easier to get around the castle without getting lost as much as in those first few days. The staircases didn't make things easy to start with. There were one hundred and forty two of them; wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led to somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors which wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. Orla wasn't sure sleeping in the dungeons was altogether a good idea to begin with; the thought of it sounded cold, dank, and empty. However, the first morning she woke up, she was pleasantly surprised to see a warm fire in the dorm room and the room looked even more inviting than it had the previous night. The dark green curtains hanging over the windows had a silver sash attached to each one, and when Millicent pulled them back (once they had all gotten dressed, ready for breakfast), the view of the lake in front of them was so beautiful. The morning sunlight sparkling off of the water, and the Giant Squid, who they had met the night before in the boats, was gently waving a tentacle in the sun.
Potions was quickly becoming her favourite class, partly because it was taught by the Head of Slytherin house, Professor Snape, but also because she had always found that kind of thing fascinating. The first-year Slytherins had Potions with the Gryffindors, which meant she was in a class with Harry Potter and his red headed Weasley friend. All the Slytherins were intrigued about Potter, and was he as powerful as they say he was. That, however, wasn't true. He didn't seem to know the first thing about Potions, and even managed to lose Gryffindor ten points in the first lesson. Draco had found this funny, trying to stifle a giggle, but even though Snape had glared at him, Orla had seen the faintest hint of a smile on his thin lips.
Another lesson Orla enjoyed was Charms, though again it was with the Gryffindors. One lesson, the following week, Daphne and Pansy were sat next to the bushy haired girl Orla had seen on the night of the Sorting. Professor Flitwick, a tiny little man, had called her Miss Granger and the rumour was that she was a muggleborn. Orla looked at Daphne across the classroom and saw her new friend crinkle up her nose in disgust at having to sit so close to her. It made her chuckle, and thankful that she was sat with Draco, and two of the other boys in Slytherin; Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott.
Flying was definitely the best lesson for the first-years, they all thought. The start of the second week was bright and sunny, and as they walked down to the grounds to learn how to fly, Orla couldn't help but grin. Daphne linked her arm in with her friend's.
"Come on, let's get to the good brooms - I'm told the school ones aren't exactly the best," she laughed. Draco wasn't too bad of a flyer, as he liked to borrow his father's broom from time to time and fly around the Manor grounds. Orla, however, wasn't what you would call a natural flyer. The one and only time she had tried to fly her mother's broom, she flew straight into the stables and landed in a huge pile of manure, which the house elves hasn't gotten around to clearing up yet. It had taken almost a week to scrub the smell from her thick, wavy hair, and she didn't dare try it again. However, there weren't any signs of horse manure around here, so she decided it was safe to try again. Madam Hooch arrived shortly after the Gryffindors.
"Good morning, class," she said briskly, as she walked to the front of the group.
"Good morning, Madam Hooch," they chanted back at her.
"Now, I want you to each step up to a broom, stick your right hand over it and say in firm, clear voice 'up'." Orla looked down at her broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angels, but it seemed to be one of the better brooms there. Her's jumped straight into her hand when she cried "Up," but others were more reluctant. Daphne's seemed to be taking a little longer to obey, but it got there in the end, as did Draco's. As they were silently congratulating each other on their success so far, a sound at the end of the line caught their attention. They turned to look and found that Weasley's broom had been a bit over excited and had smacked him in the face. After a few minutes though, everyone had their broom hovering in the their hand. Madam Hooch spoke up again.
"Now, I want you all to mount your brooms, hold on very tightly and when I blow my whistle, you will push up from the ground, hover for a few moments and then land. Ready? One, two, three." Peep. One by one, they all gently lifted a couple of inches off of the grass, hovered for a moment, then touched back down. All except for one of the Gryffindor boys; a podgy little thing called Longbottom. He had shot up about 50 feet into the air, much to the amusement of the Slytherins. Madam Hooch glared at them, but it didn't stop them from laughing. Meanwhile, she, along with the rest of the Gryffindors, was trying to coax Longbottom back down to the ground. His broom swung him from side to side, the dove straight down, causing him to fall off and land on his arm funny. Madam Hooch ran over to check on him.
"Ooh ooh, careful, there we go," she said, gently lifting him up. "Looks like a sprained wrist. I need to get you to the hospital wing." She stood up, with Longbottom at her side, holding his arm and trying not to cry. She turned to the class. "If I see anyone in the air, you'll be out of Hogwarts faster than you can say Quidditch." Orla watched Draco as he bent down to pick something up, something Longbottom had dropped.
"If the fat lump had looked at this, maybe he would remembered to stay on his fat arse," he said, holding up a remembrall. If you held it and it turned red, it meant you had forgotten something.
"Give back, Malfoy." Potter had stepped out of the crowd, facing up to Draco. Orla, Daphne, Crabbe, and Goyle all burst out laughing.
"Oooh, not very nice," Draco replied. "I think I'll leave somewhere for Longbottom to find." He mounted his broomstick and flew into the air. "Perhaps on the roof!" Potter stared at him, determined, and then mounted his broom. Granger, then bushy haired know-it-all, tried to stop him.
"No Harry, you mustn't," she whined. "You heard what Madam Hooch said." Potter ignored her and flew up into the air. Gasps and shrieks came from the crowd. He was a bit shaky, and Orla reckoned it was his first ever time on a broom. She watched from the ground as the two argued up in the air. Then without warning to the crowd below, Draco threw the remembrall as far as he could. Instantly, Potter zoomed on his broom towards the remembrall, presumably to try and catch it before it smashed. Draco landed next to Blaise, and they both joined in with the rest of the Slytherins, laughing at Potter. Their laughs quickly turned to scowls, however, when he caught it just before it smashed into a third floor window, and landed to cheers from the rest of the Gryffindors. A stern voice made them all jump.
"POTTER." It was Professor McGonagall. "Never in my life have I..... You could have......... Come with me. Now" Draco and the rest of the Slytherins could barely contain their laughter and Potter trailed behind McGonagall, presumably for detention and possible expulsion.
