The Silver Cauldron

2. The Great Hall

The fleeting rain disfigured the medieval castle as I trudged up the front steps. It was impossible to tell who was feeling more apprehensive, the new first years or me. I stood in the welcoming entrance hall, wondering vaguely where I was supposed to go now. The threshold of a new home is a lonely place. Then I heard someone say my name.

"Miss Almanay? I am Minerva McGonagall. Welcome to Hogwarts." I turned to face the tall, severe and rather harassed looking witch standing behind me. "Thank you" I replied, and she smiled warmly. "I'll show you into the hall before addressing the first years. Follow me."

She led the way through the chattering crowd of students, who parted like the Red Sea before her. We went through a pair of solid oak doors, and then my heart stopped. I was staring into an enormous room. The four house tables stretched across the stone - flagged floor, illuminated by the glow of suspended tapers. Above me I could see the famous enchanted ceiling; it's stormy clouds so realistic I instinctively drew my cloak closer around me. At the far end of the hall stood the staff table, bedecked in rich purple velvet.

I felt, rather than saw the hundreds of curious eyes watching me as I made my way up to the table. Professor McGonagall showed me to an empty seat at the end of the row. Several of the teachers were also surreptitiously trying to get a closer look at me. I smiled nervously. They were a strange looking group. There was a plump, genial, grubby looking witch who seemed to have several live plants growing over her hat. She was in conversation with a wizard who was so tiny that only the top of his head could have been visible to the crowd below. Professor McGonagall began to tell me the names of all these people; but, by the time she reached Professor Vector a third of the way down the table, my mind was reeling. Suddenly she broke off and looked agitated. "I'm so sorry Miss Almanay, but I nearly forgot about the first years! I'll have to go and meet them. I will speak to you later." And with that she briskly turned and vanished amongst the tables.

"Not like Minerva to forget things" observed a wry voice from the chair next to me. It was a middle-aged witch with ruffled silver hair speaking.

"Isn't it?" I replied. "Yes, she didn't seem to be the forgetful type. It must take a huge amount of organization, this. I'm Philoma Almanay by the way".

"Madame Hooch. Yes, organisation is everything. Everything. If you aren't organised out on the Quidditch pitch you will be crushed." She made a violent gesture. "Beautiful game, Quidditch" she added.

A cold shadow suddenly fell across us. A tall dark haired wizard was standing behind us. His sallow, thin face only made the black shadows under his eyes appear even more prominent. For a moment, he observed me in silence. Madame Hooch blinked and looked around.

"Ah, Professor Snape, I was just telling Miss Almanay how you have to be constantly alert and organised on the Quidditch pitch, always..."

"Quite," he interjected, cutting her off completely.

"So you..." he whispered in a soft, dangerous voice "...are to be my personal assistant." I could see at once why the boy on the train was so scared of this teacher.

"I'm pleased to meet you," I said, wishing he would smile. "I'm looking forward to starting work here."

"I'm sure you are" his thin lips twisted into a smirk. "However I fear you will lose that sort of...enthusiasm, when you see what you've got to teach. Very pupils here have learnt to fully appreciate the beauty of concocting potions. Very few even possess enough wits to stand a cauldron the right way up." His eyes darted malevolently over the happy crowd below.

"Surely that's not true, Professor," I ventured, thinking of the boy on the train. "Perhaps they're just a little nervous?"

Snape's eyes flashed. He put one icy hand on my shoulder and leant on the table threateningly.

"Wait until our first class before you make so broad a judgement Miss Almanay. Then you'll see how right I am. Teaching potions is nowhere near as easy as studying them. You have seen nothing."

I felt insulted and angry. I did have some experience in teaching; part of my training had included lectures, and yet he was acting as if I was totally ignorant. I was about to say something sharp back, but at that moment the great doors opened and about 40 or so new students came in. Professor Snape straightened up, nodded to Madame Hooch keeping his eyes fixed on me, before returning to his seat. I gave an involuntary shudder.

"Don't worry about him" Madame Hooch whispered to me. "Likes to exercise his power over people. Mind games, you know? But he's nothing to worry about. He referees for our Quidditch matches sometimes. A great fan of Quidditch is Severus. Passionately involved when his house team is playing. I remember a match back in 1985 when Slytherin lost to Ravenclaw. He was furious, called for a rematch. Of course, Ravenclaw had the Mac Fadden brothers playing at the time, an excellent pair of Chasers if I ever saw them. They'd-"

But what was exactly so excellent about the Mac Fadden brothers I never knew, for Professor Dumbledore had risen from his seat to announce the Sorting. I didn't envy the youngsters as they sat on a stool and the hat that was to decide their future was placed upon their heads. I caught sight of the thin pale faced boy I'd seen on the train sitting at the Slytherin table. I wondered if he had been right - the Potions master had not exactly greeted me with the warmth I had received from Professor McGonagall and Madame Hooch. Neville Longbottom sat at the Gryffindor table, his elbow placed absent - mindedly in his soup dish as he clapped and cheered the new students in. I glanced over at Snape sitting rigidly in his chair, black robes draped immaculately about him and smiled in spite of myself. I could see why Neville would find Snape 'scary' and was quite prepared to believe that Longbottom was capable of trying to brew potions in an upside down cauldron.