Amortentia

Chapter 3

The décor was red and gold, the house colors, with squishy armchairs by a roaring fire in the fire place. There were staircases leading up to the dormitories, one for each year. John and the rest of the seventh years went up to the dorms to unpack their stuff, which was waiting for them upstairs. They were all four posted beds, with red and gold drapes, all loaded with their trunks and pets. Jam and Detective were making such a racket, so the two boys let them fly out the window to the owlery to join the other owls. There were five boys for the Gryffindor seventh years, John, Greg, Mike, and two boys named Sam and Rory. The five got along okay, but didn’t necessarily hang out together. John looked out the window nervously, seeing a half moon shining down on them. Not too reassuring.
“How were your summers?” Mike asked Sam and Rory, who both launched into details of summer break. John tuned them out, packing his stuff into the drawers. He put his wand, a simple oak wand with dragon heart string, on the bedside table along. His broom, a nimbus 2000, sat under his bed waiting for quidditch. The broom had almost bled him dry, his muggle parents had never even heard of a galleon before, and had to trade a lot of muggle money for them. John had saved up forever, wanting a good broom desperately. He didn’t have many wizard items, but he wasn’t complaining, he had his share of dungbombs and Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans. When he had finally finished unpacking, he changed immediately into his pajamas, dead tired from the trip and full of food. The rest of the boys changed too, and when they were all in bed, John flicked his wand and all of the candles blew out.

                When the morning came light streamed through the windows. It took John a second to comprehend where he was, but when he figured it out a smile broke out on his face. He was back home. Everyone else were just waking up when John got up and got dressed in his school robes and tie, sitting down in the common room and reading one of his books he had brought from the muggle world. The fire was still going; it seemed as if it never went out. Knowing magic, he doubts it ever did. Greg came bounding down the steps into the common room, dressed and ready to go.
“Let’s go, I want to see my schedule.” He said, heading straight for the portrait hole in the wall.
“Shouldn’t we wait?” John asked uncertainly.
“No, let’s go, I hope we get defense against the dark arts, that’s my favorite.” He said hopefully. John put his book on the table and followed Greg into the deserted halls. There were pictures everywhere, ones that talked and moved like real people, who never failed to amuse John, he would try to talk to them, but most of them weren’t fond of the students. When they got to the staircases, which were always moving around and changing directions, you never know exactly where you were going to end up. John and Greg managed to get to the Great Hall without much difficulty, where the food was already there waiting for them. There were heads of houses, Gryffindor having McGonagall, were passing out schedules to the few students eating breakfast this early. She walked over and handed them both their slips, and they excitedly sat at the table, looking over at them. John groaned, he had Herbology, then Care of Magical Creatures, then lunch, then Potions, and then History of Magic. This must be the worst day, but at least it wasn’t double potions. Greg had gotten the same thing, as all the seventh years did, so at least they’d go through it together. John put down his schedule in disgust.
“This is terrible, what type of first day back is this!” he complained.
“Don’t remind me.” Greg moaned, scooping eggs onto his plate.
“Same teachers then?” John asked.
“Probably, unless that other one is filling in.”
“Maybe he’s a substitute?”
“I doubt it, they don’t usually live here like the rest of us.”
“It’s bugging me though, I want to know what’s going on.” John complained. The teacher wasn’t there, and he didn’t show up for the rest of breakfast. The rest of Gryffindor came eventually, moaning and groaning about the terrible schedule. John and Greg were done early, so they decided to walk around the castle, see if anything changed. The pictures were the same, the statues were the same, and everything was the same as they expected, but they had nothing better to do with their time since they had to be at Herbology in less than thirty minutes. John was looking forward to after dinner, where he and his friends all went to the quidditch pitch to fly around on their brooms. Being seventh years, they had a lot more freedom than most, and since he was the captain he was allowed to use the quaffle, bludgers, and snitch for practice outside of practice. Since they were all a different position, it was a lot more interesting, John swooping around the bludgers thrown at him by Greg, Sara shooting on Mike, and sometimes they tried each other’s positions for fun. John was rubbish at keeper, but fair at chaser and beater. The halls were starting to get a bit crowded; the students were starting to get ready for the first class of the year, all the first years half an hour early just to make sure they won’t be forgotten. They gave John and Greg their space, them being scary seventh years, but really John and Greg meant no harm. Some Slytherins would take advantage of the small kids, practicing jinxes on them and laughing. John hated when they did that, if that had happened to them six years ago it would’ve scarred them forever.
“We should probably go now, got to get my books.” Greg decided, turning the corner around a painting of several witches swooping around and cackling. They climbed a couple of staircases, taking a path that would make a lot of the kids lost out of their minds, but the castle seemed so simple to navigate now. When they got to the fat lady, they said the password and the portrait swung open, letting them climb through to the common room. Sara and Mike were sitting in the armchairs going through their backpacks, loading the things they might need. John and Greg went up the steps and grabbed their bags, making sure they had books, ink, quills, dragon hide gloves, and of course their wands. When they were packed, they met Sara and Mike outside the portrait hole and walked down together to Herbology.
“I wonder what we’re going to do this year.” Mike said.
“I hope it’s something dangerous.” Greg said hopefully. They met the class they would be working with, the Hufflepuffs, at the oak doors, walking through the dew to the greenhouses. The morning was chilly, making them pull their cloaks around themselves to fight the small wind blowing. They were ushered into greenhouse three, which was a good sign for danger. Professor Sprout, a short, plump woman with white hair, was waiting for them at the tables.
“Everyone gather ‘round and put your gloves on.” She instructed. They did as they were told, dropping their bags under the ground, which was covered in a soft layer of dirt.
“Today we will be working with what is called Devils Snare, a terrible plant that suffocates its victims. Now, the only weakness is sunlight, which isn’t hard, just say Lumos Solem, can you say that?”  
“Lumos Solem.” The class repeated in unison.
“Good, good, now we’re going to be replanting them from their smaller pots into larger ones, and in order to do this, they can’t be moving or they will start to tangle around your arm and that’s not good, so everyone grab a pot, some dragon dung, and I’ll come around with the plants.” She said. There was a mad scramble to get the pots and soil to get started. The promise of danger was very good now, Devils Snare sounds pretty lethal. When John and Greg, who were working side by side, got their plants, which were long branchy plants that moved around a lot, they cast the spell, immobilizing them. Then they dug the plants up and repotted them. It was disappointing to be honest, John had expected someone getting hurt because they couldn’t cast the spell right, but everyone walked out of there with all of their limbs. John and the rest of the Gryffindors walked down to Hagrid’s hut, where Fang, the enormous yet harmless Boarhound, barked their arrival. Ravenclaw, the house they were sharing the class with, was already there waiting for them, they must have been a while in Herbology. Hagrid was standing on his steps, towering even more above the students than usual. Hagrid smiled at the oncoming Gryffindors, his favorite house by far.
“Today, we’re going to learn more about the one creature I know everyone fears here, Werewolves.” Hagrid said, making everyone gasp with excitement. John stiffened up; the creature everyone fears was him. It was true though, no one liked a werewolf. “Unfortunately I don’t have them up for tea often, so we’re just going to talk about them, but it’s still pretty interesting.” Hagrid assured. Greg nudged John excitedly.
“Hear that, werewolves!” He said excitedly.
“Ya, cool.” John said halfheartedly. 
“Everyone can just sit on the ground, there you go, don’t let Fang step on you, good. Right, now Werewolves are people, ordinary like you and me, you never know who could be one. Someone here could be a werewolf and you’d never know.” Everyone looked around suspiciously, and John did his best not to look nervous or guilty. “Every full moon they painfully,” Painfully was an understatement, “change into a wolf, having no moral principal, if it breaths it’s dead, no matter what, friend, family, anyone that crosses their path is dead. There is no cure for a werewolf that’s known, so if you ever get bitten you’ll change every moon.” Hagrid said. After that Hagrid rambled about famous werewolves and stuff, which the class lost interest in. They all preferred the live creatures to just listening to Hagrid talk. When the class was over the left the hut for lunch, and all Greg and Mike could talk about were Werewolves.
“I’d hate to be one, every full moon you’d have to go through so much pain, I can’t even imagine, how about you John?” Greg asked.
“That would be the worst thing in the world.” John agreed quietly. He really hoped they never had to find out about his secret, it’s been six years without suspicion; he could do it, one more year, maybe at the end he would tell them.