Sun and Stars *Improved*

Chapter Four:Potions

 "There, look."

"Where?"

"Between Fred and George Weasley."

"Do you see her face?"
"Do you see her scar?"

Whispers followed me down to the Great Hall the next morning on my way to breakfast. People stared as I walked by, and the whispers made it hard to concentrate, although the twins tried to help me as much as they could.

There were a hundred and forty-one staircases at Hogwarts:wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that 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 pretending.

The ghosts didn't help. Peeves the Poltergeist was worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if you met him when you were late for class. Even worse than Peeves was the caretaker, Argus Filch. He owned a cat called Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dust-colored creature with bulging, lamp-like eyes. The students all hated Filch, and most wanted to give Mrs. Norris a good kick. However, the cat seemed to like me.

And then there were the classes. On Wednesday nights, I studied the night skies and learned the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week we went down to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology with Professor Sprout, where I learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for.

History of Magic was easily the most boring class, and the only one taught by a ghost. You'd think that would make it interesting, but Professor Binns had a dull, droning voice that made it easy to fall asleep, try as I might to fight it. The most exciting thing that happened was when he floated in through the chalkboard.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. When he called the roll on the first day, he gave an excited squeak and fell out of sight when he came to mine and Harry's names.

Professor McGonagall was again different. She wasn't a teacher I wanted to cross. Strict and clever, she gave the class a very stern talking-to the moment we sat down for our first class. Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. After taking a lot of complicated notes that made my hand cramp, we were each given a match to turn into a needle.

I found out Defense Against the Dark Arts was a joke. Professor Quirrell was a stuttering fool who, in my opinion, had no idea what he was talking about. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told us, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but nobody believed that story. His turban also carried the smell, and the twins insisted it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went.

On Friday, when I went down to breakfast, I saw Harry and Ron sitting across from Fred and George. Maybe this was my chance to take to my brother. I took a deep breath and walked to the Gryffindor table.

"Good morning, Fred, George," I said as I sat down.

"Good morning, Annabelle. Have you had the pleasure of meeting our younger brother, Ron?" Fred said in a fake posh accent.

"No, I don't believe I have," I returned in the same accent. I turned to Ron and held out my hand. "Hello, I'm Annabelle Potter."

Ron just stared at me. I slowly retracted my hand. "Okay..."