100+ Things Not to Do at Hogwarts

Year one

Serenity's POV

I walked through Diagon Alley, as I'd done hundreds of times before. Although I appeared to be alone, I was well aware that I wasn't; there was always an Auror keeping me within sight - it was Tonks this time. Despite not always being able to locate them, I knew they were always there. My uncle was friends with several Aurors; most of them let me be and just keep an eye out, but there was one in particular who tried to play a more active role in my wellbeing: an Auror called Moody. It wasn't so bad though, especially when I was on the run from him; a little exercise never hurt anybody.

I slipped into Flourish and Blotts to buy a book that Uncle Remus had requested, as well as picking up one which caught my interest; I had already bought most of my school supplies, bar some more quills and my school robes. On my way back down Diagon Alley I caught sight of a blonde woman with green eyes and large glasses. She was watching me from the edge of a group of people I didn't recognise. I knew it was Tonks but I didn't try to avoid her, knowing that she trusted me; if it had been Moody, I would have led him a merry dance up and down Diagon Alley, running off at every chance I got. He didn't trust me one bit and stuck to me like glue, making sure I was always within grabbing distance. Completely lost in my thoughts, I didn't even see the boy in my path until I had accidentally knocked him to the ground.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention. Are you alright?" I asked, as I reached out a hand to help him up. "I'm Serenity Black, who are you?"

The boy looked around hesitantly. "I'm Harry Potter. You really don't know who I am?" he asked quietly.

I smiled at him and, laughing, said, "Of course I don't know who you are - we've only just met! I mean, I know that you're supposed to be the saviour of the wizarding world, but that's about it. Are you starting Hogwarts this year, too?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, but I'm not sure what to expect... I grew up around people who don't like magic."

"Muggles tend to be like that," I said knowingly. "They hate what they don't understand. What shop are you heading to?"

Harry pulled out a list, looking around him; the crowd dwarfed the small boy. "Madam Malkin's, but I don't know where it is, do you?"

I was slightly taller than Harry, but still much smaller than the crowd around us. However, having dragged Moody around Diagon Alley so often, I had good knowledge of the area, so I guided Harry towards the store. On our way, we passed an offshoot from the cobbled street.

"You don't ever want to go down there, Harry. That's Knockturn Alley, and it's full of evil wizards and witches."

We hurried past and soon found ourselves in front of a shop front bearing the name Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions. I opened the door and stepped inside, my eyes immediately falling on a blond boy.

"Malfoy. What a surprise," I said dryly.

My cousin looked up and sneered, "Well, well, Black. I see that godfather of yours wouldn't even come to help his charge pick out her supplies."

I smirked. "And just where are your parents? I'm sure they're worried about where their only heir's disappeared to."

Harry stepped out from behind me and Draco's gaze immediately focused on him.

"Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Draco put out his hand to shake and Harry took it hesitantly, glancing at me before he did so. Draco left the shop, turning at the door to give me a superior smirk before finally going on his way. He couldn't have missed the glare I shot at him.

"Well, that was an ordeal," I muttered darkly.

Madam Malkin fluttered over and ushered Harry onto a stool, setting her tape measure to work. Harry looked very bewildered but just stood still, saying nothing. Once Madam Malkin had finished, she turned to me.

"I assume you're here to pick up your robes, Miss Black?" she asked, before turning back to Harry, who was still standing on the stool looking faintly shell shocked. "You can come down now, Mister Potter."

Harry stepped down, a slight blush spreading over his face. I giggled.

"Yes, I am here for my robes," I said, remembering myself.

Madam Malkin flicked her wand and a bundle of robes levitated into my arms. I thanked her and bought some more hair ribbons, and then her attention turned to Harry again, who was now paying for his own robes.

I always felt a bit guilty buying things like hair ribbons; I did need some more, but I knew that money was tight and I should be more careful. Don't get me wrong, uncle Remus and I aren't poor like the Weasleys are, but we do have a hard time making ends meet - we've never had as much money as Harry or Draco. My uncle has a condition which makes it hard for him to find steady work. I get an allowance, but the inheritance money in the Gringotts vault won't become mine until I come of age. Money isn't that important to me, though; I know my uncle loves me and that's all that matters. Besides, he's all I've got for family since my father left. I don't know what happened there, just that one day he was gone. It bothers me, but I do understand it: why stay in a place you don't want to be just because of a responsibility you don't want to have? Love is definitely more important than money. The Weasleys have so much love between them that not having much money doesn't matter. Mrs. Weasley and Bill came to our house once; uncle Remus was sick and Tonks was on an important assignment, so Mrs. Weasley made dinner while Bill played checkers with me. They were both such lovely people.

A slight tug on my sleeve brought me back to the present. I gave a start and realised Harry was looking at me quizzically. I felt a blush start to spread across my face and gave a small laugh to hide my embarrassment.

"Sorry about that, Harry, I was miles away. Where to next?"

"Well, I'm done, so we can go wherever you haven't been yet or we could go and meet Hagrid."

"Getting my robes was the last thing on my list, so why don't we go and see Hagrid?"

Harry nodded and started out of the shop, checking that I was following before stepping out into Diagon Alley. The street was only marginally less crowded than before, and I quickly fell into step with Harry, keeping only about six inches between his right shoulder and my left. There wasn't far to go, however, as a booming voice soon hailed us from further up the street.

"'Arry!" The voice called loudly.

Standing on our tiptoes, we could see the large form of Hagrid waving at us. Harry took off at a run towards the half-giant, and I followed, although at a slower jog. I hung back and watched the two reunite, until Hagrid's attention was drawn to me.

"Who's yer friend 'Arry?"

I gave a small wave as Harry introduced me.

"This is Serenity Black." Hagrid's eyes hardened at the mention of my last name, sending a shiver down my spine.

"Black, eh?" he said. "Well, it's nice to meet yeh. Any friend of 'Arry's is a friend o' mine. So long as yeh treat 'im right."

I forced a laugh. "Treat him right? What kind of person do you take me for? I'm going to turn on him or use him for his fame, if that's what you're thinking. I'm not like that!"

As I finished, a hand grasped my shoulder. I turned to see the blonde woman from earlier, now with Tonks' face. "Hello, Tonks. Time to go, right?"

She nodded and took my hand in hers, greeting Harry and Hagrid quietly, before preparing to disapparate.

"I'll see you on the first, Harry," I said. "Bye." Then, with a crack, Tonks and I were gone.

"Did you have a nice trip?"

The question came just as the spinning stopped. I didn't even need to look up to know who had asked it - the voice was unmistakeably uncle Remus'. I smiled and nodded my reply, then flopped into a chair and removed my robes, revealing the jeans and pale blue t-shirt I was wearing underneath. I handed Remus the book he had wanted; it was something to do with namesakes, though why he'd be interested in that was beyond me. Aunt Tonks leaned over and said something to Remus, before saying her goodbyes and apparating away.

"Yeah, it was good," I said, in reply to the earlier question. "I met a new friend, Harry Potter. He's nice."

Looking at the spot from which Tonks had just apparated, I contemplated my family situation. Tonks wasn't really my aunt, just like Remus wasn't really my uncle, but I thought of them as my family nonetheless. Tonks was my dad's cousin, or something like that, and Remus was my godfather. I love them both, especially Remus; he's the only constant I really have in life, even though he gets sick a lot.

The news about meeting Harry Potter must have finally sunk in, as Remus raised an eyebrow and looked shocked. I ran a hand through my dark brown, almost black, hair and grinned widely. "So, what's for dinner? I'm starving."

***

September 1^st came around a lot more quickly than I expected it to, my birthday - August 28^th - coming and going with rapid speed as well.

"Now, don't let the older students intimidate you, and listen to the prefects and to your teachers because they are there to help you..." Uncle Remus was rambling, as he had done the whole journey to Kings Cross. I stood on tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek.

"Relax, uncle Remus," I grinned, brushing my hair from my face and crossing my arms. "They couldn't intimidate me if they tried."

He laughed lightly, amber eyes brightening. "I can believe that. But still behave, and don't stop your reading."

I just looked at him, sure that he could read the message in my eyes: I know, I know. Then I turned and walked towards the Hogwarts Express, dragging my trunk behind me. Remus called my name when I was about halfway there.

"No matter what house you get into, I'm proud of you."

The words froze me, and I dropped my trunk and ran back over to him, burying my face in his chest as I hugged him. I reminded myself not to cry and pushed back away from him. I gave him a quick smile and hurried onto the train with my trunk, closing my eyes as I boarded, trying to dispel all remnants of the tears that had blurred my vision. The whistle sounded the moment I reopened my eyes.

"Now, where to sit... where to sit..." I mumbled to myself, as I walked along the corridors, looking in on compartments already filled with people. One compartment was almost empty and I stopped to look inside.

"Harry!" I exclaimed, opening the compartment door. "Harry, would it be alright if I sat with you? I don't really know anyone else well."

"Yeah, I don't mind. I didn't actually think I'd see you again - there are so many students here."

"Thank you," I replied, smiling happily. I tugged my trunk into the compartment and struggled to get it on the shelf. Just as I sat down, a woman with a food trolley came in and asked if we wanted anything. I purchased some chocolate frogs, a pumpkin pasty and a small box of Bertie Botts' Every Flavour Beans, and settled into a corner of the compartment.

"I'm Serenity Black, by the way... you are?" I introduced myself, carefully slitting a chocolate frog wrapper and gripping the thrashing frog tightly, preventing it from bouncing around the compartment. In doing so, I almost missed the look of disbelief and anger that crossed the redheaded boy's face briefly.

"Why does everyone keep looking at me like that whenever I introduce myself?" I demanded.

"Well, your dad..." the boy trailed off.

I took the moment to interject. "My dad left a long time ago. I live with my uncle. What's your name?"

He looked at me, ears turning red. "Ron... Ron Weasley," he muttered, and turned back to Harry.

As they resumed their conversation on wizarding cards, I dug a book from my trunk: J.R.R. Tolkien's 'The Hobbit'. I was aware that this wasn't the usual reading material for an eleven year old, but I had inherited my uncle's love of books. As I opened the book to my marked page, I looked out of the window. Rolling hills, lush green grass and plenty of trees met my view, reminding me strongly of the setting in the Shire.

"You want any?" Harry asked, bringing me from my reverie. He was holding out handfuls of sweets.

"No, thanks, I've got my chocolate," I declined.

I had just focused back on my book when another boy entered the compartment.

"Sorry, but have you seen a toad at all?"

I shared a look with Harry and Ron, and we shook our heads in unison.

The boy started to wail. "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

Harry smiled comfortingly. "He'll turn up. He can't have gone far."

"Yes, well, if you see him..." the boy finished lamely and backed out of our compartment, giving a miserable sniffle.

I concentrated on my book once more, pushing aside Ron's talk of a rat named Scabbers. A bit further into the adventures of Bilbo Baggins, the door slid open once more. The boy who had lost his toad was back, but he had brought a girl already in her Hogwarts robes with him. The girl had bushy brown hair, far from my sleek, dark hair, which was tied back with a blue ribbon. The girl also had big teeth and a bossy demeanour. Fun, I thought sarcastically.

"Have you seen a toad?" she asked. "Neville's lost one."

Her eyes darted quickly to Ron's battered looking wand. "Oh, are you doing magic? Well, let's see it then."

Ron cleared his throat and gave the wand a weak flick. "Sunshine daisies, butter mellow; turn this stupid, fat rat yellow," he recited. Nothing happened, not a twitch, sparkle or ripple of colour.

I shook my head, smiling slightly, and tuned out the girl, who was now blabbering away. I put the marker back into my book, curled up and closed my eyes. I barely caught the girl's name - Hermione Granger - and heard Harry introducing me, before I fell asleep.

***

I was sorted into Gryffindor, like my uncle had been. Harry, Ron, Neville and that Granger girl became Gryffindors as well, whilst my cousin Draco was sorted into Slytherin. I wasn't at all surprised at that. The feast was delicious; and we were told to stay away from the third floor corridor, which stirred my curiosity. The most interesting thing to happen during the feast was that I put my plan into action - the Plan to Torture Severus Snape. I had met him once or twice before, and we didn't hit it off, to say the least. I asked Harry to give the Potions Master an adoring look, whenever he could, and he agreed, saying he didn't like the look of the hook-nosed, greasy-haired professor any more than the rest of us.

The first potions lesson came around far too quickly for my liking, and we all duly entered the room and found our seats. I sat to the right of Harry, an enthusiastic Hermione and rather lacklustre Ron behind us. I barely noticed the start of the lecture, being far too busy imagined Snape's reaction to Harry's worshipping gazes. It didn't matter; I knew already that I was good at potions, although Professor Snape didn't. I wanted to keep it that way - Potions was a Slytherin subject; Transfiguration was the Gryffindor one. I knew I needed to work on my poker face, though, because I couldn't help looking up every so often and giggling. I think that's what brought him to the table Harry and I shared.

"Potter." Harry jumped and looked at Snape, his face bearing an expression of worship, as though he was looking at a God.

Perfect, I thought happily, laughing at Harry's expression. Then I caught sight of the way Hermione was dancing in her chair, so desperate to answer the question and prove herself, and laughed harder, although I tried to hide it.

"What would I get if I added powdered root of Asphodel to an infusion of Wormwood?" Snape asked.

Hermione's hand shot up, as planned, and I had to try harder to contain my laughter. My laugh was always so easily identified - it was loud, for a start, but it also had a hint of a bark in it.

"I don't know, sir," Harry replied, the admiring look still on his face. It was absolutely perfect. Harry was doing a wonderful job.

Snape narrowed his eyes. "Tut, tut. Fame clearly isn't everything."

Snape kept glancing past us and I knew that Hermione was trying to get his attention.

"Let's try again, Potter. Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"I don't know, sir."

I could almost feel the disgust dripping off Snape. Not that he was trying to disguise it; if he was, he was doing a terrible job.

"Thought you wouldn't even open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

The ensuing silence was interrupted by Hermione's chair scraping the floor, her desire to answer the questions still apparent.

"What is the difference, Potter, between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?"

Harry's eyes lost their admiration and narrowed instead. I couldn't help but think that was a bad move.

"I don't know. I think Hermione does, though. Why don't you ask her?" His tone was even and low, surprising me.

I burst into laughter at Harry's words, unrestrainedly letting my bark-like laughter loose. Some of the other Gryffindors were laughing around us, albeit with nervous caution, but I paid them no heed.

"Sit down," Snape snapped at Hermione, who was standing by that point.

Hermione sat down instantly, fear etched on her face, and the rest of the class fell silent, although I still couldn't hold back my giggles. Snape turned and fixed his smouldering, onyx black eyes on me. It was obvious that I had been successful in making him mad.

"And you," he said, "keep quiet unless you have something to say. At this time, the appropriate response would be the answers to my questions. Considering your choice in guardians, you should know the answer to at least one of them."

I froze, the laughter dying in my throat. My blue eyes became as cold as arctic ice, and I narrowed them at him.

"Asphodel and wormwood create the Draught of the Living Death, which is the strongest sleeping potion known to wizard kind. A bezoar comes from the stomach of a goat and is an antidote to most poisons. Monkshood and wolfsbane are easy - they're the same thing, more commonly referred to as aconite." I answered, my voice unwavering. "And another thing, Professor, don't insult uncle Remus. Oh, and before you asked, I told Harry - that's his name, and it wouldn't hurt you to use it - that you were the voice of God. It was a good joke."

I held his gaze, defiant, yet complacently expecting a slow death, or at least detention. What I didn't anticipate was Snape addressing the whole class.

"Her answers are correct, so write them down. As for you, Black, you shall report here at 8pm sharp. Bring your quill."

I almost laughed at the predictability of the detention.

The class only had two minor explosions. Neville - the toad boy - added his powdered pixie wings too early and the potion exploded, covering him with large, red boils. Professor Snape took him to the hospital wing. I turned my attention back to the potion Harry and I were brewing. I had done most of it, as Harry was talking to Ron, trying to work out why he didn't understand it. I knew Snape wouldn't praise our potion, even if it was right, so I couldn't see any point in exposing myself as someone who didn't belong in Gryffindor. I put down the Chizpurfle Carapaces and picked up some frog's tongue pieces instead, dropping them into the potion and shielding my face with my sleeve. I felt the heat of the potion penetrate my robes and burn my skin, covering my arm in bright red, painful welts. It hurt like hell, but I wasn't going to show it. I shrugged off my outer robe, revealing the short-sleeved jumper and much-hated skirt. Then I turned around to find Professor Snape standing there. I held my arm out, and it just so happened that his shoe was beneath it; drops of potion fell from my outstretched arm and onto his shoe, along with the pus and blood that was now leaking from my damaged arm. He flicked his wand and the remainder of the potion disappeared.

"Professor," I said quietly, "I think I need to go to the infirmary."

That was the understatement of the year; I'm pretty sure the entire class knew I needed to go to the infirmary.

"Finish and bottle your potions, placing them on my desk. I expect everyone's will be finished shortly. Then clean out your cauldrons and make a start on your homework. Any other explosions will result in an extreme deduction of your house points. I am already deducting fifty points from Gryffindor for both Mr. Longbottom's and Miss Black's explosions." With a flick of his wand, the homework appeared on the board - fifteen inches on how not to cause your potion to explode. Just perfect.

He grabbed my arm, fingers digging into the blistering, red wound. That hurts, you know, I thought, forcing my face to remain normal. He would probably have used the pain against me, if he knew. Twisting around, he pulled on my arm in such a way that indicated I would lose it if I didn't follow him. He dragged me from the room and unsolicited tears found their way to the corners of my eyes. I was sure they wouldn't fall, but I still tried to hide them as best I could. He gave my arm a sharp tug and I had to jog slightly to keep up with him. Finally, on the third floor stairway, he spoke to me.

"You are aware, Miss Black, that you will re-brew the potion tonight during your detention. You will be staying until you get it right. I haven't the slightest idea why you put down the correct ingredient and instead caused your potion to blow up..."

I stopped abruptly, shock evident on my face.

How could he know? He must have seen, I thought, worriedly. If anyone knew that I was a decent potions brewer, and at my age, things could only go from bad to worse with Snape. What should I do? What can I do?

"Oh, yes, I was watching you. Don't seem so surprised, Black. I had, after all, just taken Longbottom to the hospital wing, or have you forgotten already? You are so much like your father... and yet, there is also something about you which makes you so very different to him. I don't particularly care to figure it out, but rest assured I will ensure you are treated no better than you deserve."

He had crossed a line there. I drew myself up and shot him the most fearsome glare in my repertoire. How dare he say something like that? I asked myself angrily. Pushing the anger back and assuming a calm and collected demeanour took a lot of energy, but I managed it.

"Professor, you must know that a talent for brewing potions is a Slytherin trait. It's just like the idea that Gryffindors are good at Transfiguration, and Ravenclaws at Charms. I don't want to show any abnormality in front of the others - I'd most likely be ostracised from my house!"

My grin found its way back onto my face, and I folded my arms as best I could with my injury. I was enjoying tormenting Snape.

"I am actually quite confident in my Potions abilities. It's just that I am also willing to do whatever necessary to ensure my success. Now, if we could continue to the hospital wing? My arm hurts quite a bit, and your grip really isn't helping."

My tone sharpened at that and he soon loosened his grasp. As soon as I could, I pulled my arm away from him and held it almost gingerly with my other hand, looking at it in the light. A bruise was already beginning to form, and small blisters in the outline of his handprint had appeared. I looked up and caught him staring at my arm, so I shifted it out of the light quickly.

"Don't worry, professor. I bruise very easily. I always have, and probably always will. Granted, your grip was a bit tighter than necessary, but I'll take that as added punishment for the whole 'Professor Snape is the voice of God' thing."

I started walking up the stairs and apparently turned down the wrong hallway, as my uninjured arm was grabbed and I was pulled roughly in the other direction. I was staring at my arm, so Snape probably thought I didn't notice - I did, but I didn't care. I think I deserved a bit of rough treatment after almost blowing up the classroom. After a few more moments, the bell rang, signalling the end of class. Students swarmed around us, but most of them avoided Snape like the plague and subsequently avoided me by association. It was fine by me, though; it meant I wouldn't get shoved around and further aggravate my injury. I reached over and prodded one of my blisters with a finger, earning a glare and reprimand from Snape.

"Don't pop them; it will only cause you more pain and scarring. Or is that what you're intending? Then you'll have a way to prove I mishandled you. Your pathetic guardian would love that."

I just glowered at him.

"I assure you that I will have none of it. Just because you look like your father and apparently act like him, it does not mean we will have a repeat of my Hogwarts years while I am still your professor."

I froze, whirling around and locking my eyes with his. My voice was as cutting as a million shards of ice.

"How dare you accuse me of being like that abandoner? I hate him, and I will not have you compare me to that freak! It makes me sick to think I'm related to someone who would just leave their child. So in future, leave him out of it, Professor. The only people I think of as family are Tonks and uncle Remus."

I turned and strode into the infirmary, leaving the door jar. I was still fuming, but I swallowed it as best I could, turning to face Madam Pomfrey as she came out from her office.

"Miss Black, what happened to your arm?"

Her eyes latched onto mine for a moment, before I murmured quietly and somewhat sheepishly, "It was just a potions accident, Madam Pomfrey. Can you fix it?"

I made sure to keep my tone calm and even slightly curious. I knew Snape was in the room; I could feel his angry, onyx eyes on me. I closed my eyes for a moment and turned my head towards him; when I opened my eyes they were devoid of all emotion and feeling. I saw him give an odd twitch, like he was flinching away from me or something. Then I blinked again and let the emotions and feelings re-enter my eyes.

Madam Pomfrey covered my arm in a healing salve and wrapped it in clean gauze. Moments later, Harry entered the room, standing behind Snape and holding what I assumed to be my charred robes.

"At the worst there will be some mild scarring. Because it is a minor wound, the salve is all I can do for you. Try to avoid putting too much pressure on it and please come back after dinner to get your gauze changed."

I nodded my acquiescence, slipping around Snape and following Harry to the door. With a smile, I took my robes from Harry and repaired them with a charm.

"Miss Black," came a voice from behind me, "don't think that your injury will get you out of your detention tonight."

I smirked, slipping on my robe. The bandage hardly showed beneath the sleeve.

"I wouldn't dream of it, professor. I have the feeling that this is the beginning of a wonderful friendship."

With that, I took my bag from Harry and took his arm. I walked off, dragging Harry lightly, before he got the hint and started walking. Harry kept looking over his shoulder at Snape every so often. I turned and gave the potions master a small wave before I turned the corner with Harry.

"Come on, Harry. Transfiguration awaits us."

I had another plan forming already.

***

I left the common room at around 7:45pm, knowing that the staircase wasn't far away and it wouldn't take long to get to the dungeons and the potions room. I still left plenty of time to drag my feet, though; I'm not terribly fond of the dungeons because they're a bit too cold and clammy for my liking.

It was close to 8 o'clock when I knocked on the door, although I didn't know the exact time. I was hoping I was on the early side - being late for detention with Snape would surely make it all the more miserable.

"Enter."

I opened the door and stepped cautiously inside. The door swung shut of its own accord and I whipped around, staring at it for a moment. Then I turned back to face Snape, giving a nervous smile before turning my gaze to the floor.

"Sit," Snape said, indicating the desk directly in front of his.

I complied, but couldn't stop myself fidgeting under his stare. Snape waved his wand and the sentence I was to copy appeared on the board. As I read it over, a faint smirk appeared on my face. I raised an eyebrow.

"'I will not tell first years that Professor Snape is the voice of God,'" I read. "Interesting."

I looked up at Snape to find him glaring at me. I vowed to myself to keep the smirk in place.

"I am glad you think so, Black, because you will be copying it one hundred times. Begin."

I looked at the parchment in front of me and shook my head, before drawing my quill and ink from my pocket. I gave a small smile, knowing full well that this was highly unlikely to be my last set of lines to write out in the dungeons.