The Greatest Kind of Magic

3. Nerves of Adamant

The rest of Liam's clothes arrived at breakfast the next morning, along with an exasperated note from his mother.

"Honestly, Liam, were you planning on wearing the same T-shirt all year? I suppose you will suffer a nervous breakdown if you are parted from any of your precious books, but wearing the same pair of underwear three days in a row does not bother you one tiny bit. I suppose it is too much to ask that my sixteen-year-old son might actually be able to pack his trunk without my help."

Liam stowed the bulky package under the table and returned to his porridge. As a rule, Liam ate a lot in the mornings, and after the poor dinner he had had the previous night, he was ravenous. He did not understand how some people could skip breakfast: Liam didn't feel entirely human until he'd filled his belly. Liam ate breakfast no matter how upset, worried, sick or late he was. His mother often said that Liam would ignore the Apocalypse, if it came while he was eating.

He could not, however, ignore Ron poking him repeatedly in the arm, asking "Liam. Hey, Liam. I'm talking to you, mate!"

Liam swallowed another mouthful before he finally responded. "What?"

"Timetables." Ron handed over Liam's.

"What subjects are you taking?" asked Harry.

Liam took a bite of buttered toast. "I in't 'et 'uch 'oice, eely..."

Across the table, Hermione rolled her eyes. "Great - another one that tries to talk and eat at the same time."

Liam swallowed and stuck out his tongue, which was mercifully free of food.

"Well, honestly," huffed Hermione indignantly.

Liam grinned. "As I was saying, I didn't really get much choice about what subjects I could do. They pretty much told me I have to do Charms and Transfiguration, because they are," - he put on a stern voice remarkably similar to McGonagall's - " 'The fundamentals of magical education!' Then I have to do Defence against the Dark Arts, because, well, it should be pretty obvious, really. So after that I got to choose two electives, so I'm doing Muggle Studies and Potions."

"Ohh... bad move, mate!" Ron exclaimed. "The Potions master is a nightmare. He's head of Slytherin, and he's totally unfair. If he decides he doesn't like you, you'll never pass."

That doesn't sound promising, Liam thought. "I don't think I can change it now," he said tensely. "I chose it because it doesn't require any actual spellwork, and it sounded sort of interesting."

Hermione beamed. "Good for you, Liam! I must admit, Snape is not very nice..." - Harry and Ron snorted at this - "...but it really is a fascinating subject. And Muggle Studies must be interesting from your perspective!"

"Oh no, I just chose that because I figured it'd be easy."

Hermione looked disappointed.

Suddenly, the doors to the Great Hall burst open, and a young woman with spiky blue hair collided with Professor McGonagall. "Sorry... I'm... late..." panted the woman. "I... thought... today... was... yesterday!"

McGonagall folded her arms and looked at the woman sternly. "Professor Tonks. We were wondering where you were last night. You'd better go see Albus, and be quick about it! You first class begins in ten minutes."

Professor Tonks' eyes widened in horror. "Sweet Merlin's underpants!" she blurted, and sprinted out of the Hall.

Ron, Hermione and Harry exchanged excited glances. "Tonks!" Ron exclaimed. "She must be the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher! Excellent!"

"You guys know her?" asked Liam curiously.

"Yeah," said Ron. "She's an Auror. And she's in the Or..." he cut off. Liam looked at him expectantly, but Ron did not say any more - he just blushed a deep crimson. Feeling a little put out, Liam rose without another word, and left to search for his Muggle Studies classroom.

When he was gone, Hermione turned on Ron. "You shouldn't have mentioned the Order! Now he knows we're hiding something from him, and he's offended."

"Well, I didn't mean to offend him, did I?" Now Ron was angry, too. "Come on, Harry. We've got Care for Magical Creatures."

"See you later, Hermione," said Harry, in a half-hearted attempt to keep the peace.

***

Liam got hopelessly lost on his way to class, and as a result arrived ten minutes late. He stumbled into the classroom, interrupting the teacher's lecture.

"Sorry I'm late," he gasped. "I got lost."

The Muggle Studies professor, however, was an amiable young man and did not reprimand him. "You must be Liam," he said. "My name is Professor Downie. Please take a seat - we were just discussing the Muggle system of government."

Liam nodded and sat down next to a girl who was by herself. She looked startled when he did so, but gave him a quick, frightened smile.

"As I was saying," Professor Downie continued, "The Muggle government is divided into groups called political parties." He wrote the term on the board. "The country is divided into regions, called electorates. Each electorate counts as a seat..."

Liam began to tune out. He had learnt this in Social Studies at Stonewall, though he didn't remember it very well. The topic had bored him then, and it was no more exciting coming from a wizard. Liam turned his attention to the girl next to him.

She had reddish-brown hair, which she had tied back in a plait. The plait struggled to hold it all in and random frizzy bits stuck out at odd angles. Her face had a few spots and she was slightly overweight. However, apart from that, Liam thought she was quite pretty.

The girl looked up from her book and noticed Liam staring at her. He quickly turned to look out the window.

The view was stunningly beautiful. Liam had lived in the city his entire life, and had rarely seen the countryside. The land around Hogwarts, however, was somehow more than just countryside. The mountains surrounding the castle rose to graceful, snow-capped peaks. At that hour of the morning, the slopes were still shrouded in shadow, but a single shaft of golden light penetrated through a gap between two peaks, and lit up the velvety canopy of the Forbidden Forest. Liam wished he could open the window and take a breath of the fresh air. He made a mental note to get up early the next morning and go for a walk in the Hogwarts grounds.

He was startled out of his reverie by a nudge from his desk-mate. He looked up and realised the entire class was staring at him.

"Please, Mr Grady," said Professor Downie, "I know that you are new, but that doesn't give you the right to daydream in my class. Don't make me take away House points. Please try to concentrate."

Liam sighed and tried to obey.

It was no use - he just couldn't force himself to be interested in Muggle politics. Soon he was staring out the window again.

He felt another nudge. Thinking he'd been caught daydreaming again, he quickly looked up at Professor Downie, but realised that the teacher was not paying him any attention. Then Liam looked down at his desk and saw a scrap of parchment.

"Don't worry, he never actually takes House points. He always says he will, but never does."

He looked at the frizzy-haired girl next to him and gave her a quick smile. She smiled back. Liam turned over the parchment and scribbled,

"What's your name?"

The girl scribbled back,

"Eloise Midgen"

Liam replied:

"Liam Grady"

"I know. Everyone's been talking about you. Is it true you went to a Muggle school?"

"Yes. Don't spread it around, though."

"I think everyone knows. Sorry! So, this must be really easy for you, then?"

Liam grinned at her.

"To be honest with you, I found this stuff dead boring when they taught it to us at my old school, and it's still dead boring now!" He drew an unhappy face on the parchment.

Eloise smiled.

"If Miss Midgen and Mister Grady have finished passing notes, I would like to tell you all about your assignment!" said Professor Downie, causing Liam to drop his pen and Eloise to blush furiously.

"You will write me a two-foot essay on the process by which Muggles elect a Prime Minister. You will hand it to me in two weeks time. And may I suggest, though I doubt you'll listen, that you start this assignment now, before you are overwhelmed with other work!"

On cue, the bell rang, and the students filed out the room. Liam tried to talk to Eloise, but face to face, she became strangely shy, and blushed every time she caught him looking at her. After a while, Liam gave up, and they walked along in silence until they reached the castle's main stairwell.

"Well, I have to go down to the dungeons - that is where Potions classes are, isn't it?" said Liam, in a final attempt to get Eloise to talk. The girl nodded mutely, then stammered, "See you," and stumbled off down a side corridor.

Liam shook his head as he watched her go. "Self-esteem issues," he muttered. He couldn't dawdle any longer - he still had to find the right dungeon.

Luckily, when he got to the bottom of the stairs, he spotted Neville Longbottom walking away from him. Liam jogged to catch up.

"Hey, Neville!" he called out. Neville stopped to wait for him.

"Are you looking for the Potions room?" Neville asked.

"Yeah. Do you do Potions too?"

"Yeah, come on, I'll show you where it is."

Liam searched for something to say. "So... what other subjects do you do?"

"Transfiguration, Defence and Charms. And Herbology." Neville smiled. "You?"

Liam told him. "I thought of doing Herbology," he said. "But I really just wanted to have one easy subject, so I chose Muggle Studies instead."

"Is that what you just had?"

Liam nodded.

"How was it?"

Liam rolled his eyes. "Boring," he said. "I spent the lesson writing notes to the girl next to me."

"Oh yeah? Who?" A mischievous grin flashed across Neville's face.

"Not those kind of notes! Eloise something. Frizzy hair."

There was a shout of laughter behind them. Ron came up and clapped Liam on the shoulder. "Eloise Midgen? Hah! Liam, mate, you can do better than that!"

Liam snorted. "Honestly, some things are the same the world over. I talk to a girl in class and suddenly it's like we're shagging under the desk or something!"

Harry, who'd been walking beside Ron, sniggered. "Yeah, tell me about it. You should've heard the stuff Ron said to Hermione when she went to the Yule Ball with Victor Krum..."

Ron glowered. Harry grinned.

They reached the Potions dungeon. Ron sat down next to Harry, and Neville with Hermione. Liam couldn't see anyone else he knew, so he headed for the empty desk behind them. However, he was stopped by the cold voice of the Potions Master: "Not so fast, Grady. I want you here at the front where I can keep an eye on you. You too, Longbottom."

Liam moved to the front desk with Neville. He groaned when he realised that sitting at the desk next to theirs was none other than Draco Malfoy.

Liam had been at Hogwarts for less than a day, and already he knew this was bad news.

"Right, then," announced the Professor Snape in a clipped tone. "Welcome to Advanced Potions. This is a subtle, delicate art, which requires both hard work and intelligence - a quality, which most of you do not possess. Normally, I do not accept anybody into this class who has not achieved an 'Outstanding' in their O.W.L.s. However, due to certain... circumstances," he sneered, "I have been forced to lower my standards." He looked over at Harry, Ron, Neville and finally Liam. "Grady!" he barked suddenly. "Tell me, what are the properties of Bubotuber pus?"

Liam was shocked. Surely this man didn't expect him to answer questions on his very first day? Liam racked his brain desperately. He had heard the substance mentioned before, but where?

A memory stirred - a letter from Tara several months ago. "I HATE!!! Jason Ingle, he is a mean, horrible RAT! Yesterday, I had to go to the hospital wing because he smeared Bubotuber pus on my quills and my hands came up in burns and boils..."

"Umm... It burns and um... gives you boils."

"Grady, perhaps you have not been taught basic etiquette, but when I ask you a question, you will address me as "Sir". Now let's try that again. What are the properties of Bubotuber pus?"

"It gives you boils. And it burns. Sir."

"Is that all?"

"That's all I know. Sir."

"You should know, Grady," said Snape in a dangerously soft voice, "that I expect a very high standard of work from my students. And that means knowing the basic properties of simple potion ingredients. Do you have a textbook, Grady?"

Liam's heart was pounding with indignation, but he forced out a "Yes, sir," and even held up the book to prove to Snape that he had it.

"If you had actually opened it before coming to class, Grady, you might have noticed that in the back, there is an extensive glossary of potion ingredients. I expect all my students to be familiar with the properties of these substances. I expect you to know them by this time next week. I will be testing you. Is that clear?"

With a sinking feeling, Liam flipped through his book until he found the glossary. It went on for over twenty pages. "Yes. Sir," he said quietly, though he knew that learning it by next week was impossible.

"Right," said Snape, turning his attention to the rest of the class. "I am certain that most of you have by now forgotten what little you learned over the past year. So, just to remind you of the standard of work I expect in this class, today we will be making a potion, which is used to treat acne. It does not take long to make, so a single period should be enough. However, it requires precision and accuracy, as the slightest mistake will make it poisonous. Since it's the first day back, I will allow you the entire double to work on it - but don't expect any more such concessions in the future. The instructions are on page thirty-seven of your textbook. Get started."

Liam took a deep breath and counted to ten. He needed to concentrate, which would be impossible if he was angry.

"Bad luck," said Neville sympathetically. "Snape is really horrible to all the Gryffindors, but he usually picks on Harry more than anyone else."

"Looks like he's found himself a new target, doesn't it?" said Liam bitterly. "Jesus, this would be hard enough without a biased teacher..."

"Yeah. I reckon I'd be alright at Potions, if it wasn't for him. I always got bad marks in his class, but I got an 'E' in my O.W.L.s. It was all so much easier when I didn't have him breathing down my neck!"

"Grady and Longbottom, you should be adding ingredients to your cauldron by now. Ten points from Gryffindor."

Liam gritted his teeth and began chopping herbs. He was starting to realise that he would need nerves of steel to get through this class.

"Hey, Grady," hissed Draco Malfoy beside him. "Don't they teach you Potions in Australia?"

Bugger steel, thought Liam. I'm gonna need nerves of adamant.

"Yeah, they do," he said. "Only they call it 'cooking'."

"Still talking, Grady?" Snape's voice echoed around the room. "Let's make that another ten points from Gryffindor."

Liam tried to concentrate on his potion. Malfoy, however, appeared to be exempt from Snape's rules, and continued to talk in a derisive sneer. "I heard a very interesting thing about you, Grady. Wanna know what I heard?"

Liam didn't reply, but Draco told him anyway. "I heard you're not really from Australia. I heard you actually went to a Muggle school. What's a Muggle doing at Hogwarts, Grady? Or perhaps you're not a Muggle. No, you're not, are you? Because, hopeless as you are, you can do magic. Don't think I don't know how that lamp exploded, Grady. But if you're a wizard, you must've been offered a place at Hogwarts. And you chose not to go. You're a disgrace to the name of wizard, Grady. You're a traitor. And now that the Dark Lord has returned, he will rid this world of all Muggles, Mudbloods and traitors. I'd watch my back if I were you, Grady. If he catches you - the Dark Lord has no mercy. It'll take you so long to die..."

"Yeah. A lifetime," Liam snapped. "That's how long it takes most people." Luckily, Snape's attention was elsewhere, and this retort didn't lose Gryffindor any more House points.

Malfoy's eyes, however, were narrowed in rage. "You'll wish you'd never been born, by the time he's through with you!"

"How very original, Malfoy. Now please. Shut the fuck up."

Liam had mastered his emotions over the past few minutes, and had enough control to only let out a tiny amount of power.

Malfoy's cauldron tipped over. It's simmering contents splashed over Malfoy's desk and onto Pansy Parkinson's robes. Pansy shrieked and started waving her arms frantically. "It burns! It burns!" she screamed.

"Mr Malfoy, please take Miss Parkinson to the hospital wing," said Snape. "As this was clearly an accident, you will not have to do today's work."

He looked over at Liam, but there was no way the "accident" could be traced back to him. Liam's desk was far enough away from Malfoy's that he couldn't possibly have reached over and tipped the cauldron. And his wand was tucked away in his bag, safely out of reach.

Snape glowered. "Clean up the potion, Grady."

Liam clenched his fists in frustration. After knowing him for twenty minutes, he already hated Snape with a passion. He'd attacked Liam for no apparent reason whatsoever. This was more than just picking on a student: this was war.

And I'll be buggered if I let him win, thought Liam defiantly.

After cleaning up Malfoy's spilt potion, he worked in silence for the rest of the lesson, determined that his potion would be up to standard. When the bell finally rang at the end of the double period, he was pleased to see that it was the right colour and consistency. But he was fuming when he walked out of class.

"I've never seen him attack anyone like that," said Harry sympathetically as they walked towards the Great Hall for lunch. "Except me, of course."

"You handled it really well, Liam," said Hermione, sounding impressed.

"Yeah. You've got nerves of steel, mate," said Ron, slapping Liam on the back. "I mean, so do you, Harry," he added quickly. "But you've been dealing with his crap for years. Liam was totally unprepared."

Liam shook his head. "It's war. That's what it is. And I'm going to fight it."

Ron stared at him incredulously. "How?"

Liam smiled humourlessly. "I'm going to learn that glossary. I don't care if I have to go without sleep for the whole week, I'm going to learn it."

"But... that's impossible!"

"You'll be surprised," said Liam through clenched teeth, "at what turns out to be possible when you really put your mind to it!"