Harry Potter And The Philosopher's Stone (Female Reader Insert)

Chapter 3: Professor Snape.

Whispers had followed Harry from the moment he left his dormitory next day. People queuing outside classrooms stood on their tiptoes to get just one glimpse of  him, or doubled back to pass him in the corridors again, staring. Most of the times, Harry wished they wouldn't, because he was trying to concentrate on finding his way to classes, and terribly failing to do so.

There were a hundred and forty-two 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 just pretending.

It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other and even the coats of armour could walk.

The ghosts didn't help much, either. On one hand- Nearly-Headless Nick was always happy to help the Gryffindors find their way to the lessons, while on the other- there was Peeves, the poltergeist who was worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if you met him when you were late for class. He would drop waste-paper baskets on your head, pull rugs from under your feet, pelt you with bits of chalk or sneak up behind you, invisible, grab your nose and screech loudly in your ears.

Even worse than Peeves was the caretaker, Argus Filch.

Although, Y/N and Hermione and managed to find their way to their classes, without Filch in their way, Harry and Ron hadn't been so lucky. Filch found them trying to force their way through a door which unluckily turned out to be the entrance to the out-of-bounds corridor on the third floor. He wouldn't believe they were lost and was sure they were trying to break into it on purpose and so he was threatening to lock them in the dungeons, when they were rescued by Professor Quirrell, who was passing.

Filch owned a cat called Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dust-coloured creature with bulging, lamp-like eyes just like Filch's. She patrolled the corridors alone. Break a rule in front of her, or put just one toe out of line, and she'd whisk off for Filch, who'd appear, wheezing, two seconds later.

And then, once you had managed to find them, there were the lessons themselves. There was a lot more to magic, than waving your wand and saying a few funny words.

They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets.

Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, where they learnt how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi and found out what they were used for.

Easily the most boring lesson was History of Magic, which was the only class taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff-room fire and got up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while some of them (Only Y/N and Hermione, probably) scribbled down names and dates and the rest half-asleep.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. On their first day, he had given an excited squeak on reading Harry's name in the register. Y/N had somehow, been the most active in class, even surpassing Hermione and had soon become his favourite student.

Professor McGonagall was again quite different. She wasn't a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they had sat down in her first class.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."