Slytherin Chronicles : The Desire of Darkness

CHAPTER SIX The Six Lessons

At precisely half past seven the next morning, Neve awoke to the yells of her alarm-clock ("Wake-up, you filthy traitor!"), which she had reluctantly put in her trunk only after Mrs Coulden insisted on it. Everyone else still seemed to be sleeping but, as the clock gave a particularly loud screech, a cry issued from Pansy Parkinson's four-poster bed.

Blaise Zabini pulled back her velvet hangings, sleepy-eyed and pale, with her hair still in the magical rollers and looking as if she'd only just put them on. "What's going on?" she asked hoarsely.

"Yeah, who's fighting? Can I join in?" demanded Roisin, with her dishevelled auburn locks sticking up at odd angles as she tore back her own hangings.

"It's only my alarm-clock, but I think it frightened Pansy," explained Neve and turned to the clock, 7:32 on its face in a beautiful magenta. "Be quiet, you! Or I'll send you back home."

"Of course it gave me a fright! I'm trying to sleep here and all of a sudden, I hear this squeaky yelling and now, thanks to your clock, I can't go to sleep again!" snapped Pansy from her bed.

"Well, sorry that I interrupted your desperately essential beauty sleep, but we've all got to get up now, anyway. We've got lessons starting at nine so this gives us a half an hour for dressing and an hour for breakfast," said Neve, slipping out of her own bed and getting her uniform out of her trunk.

Everyone else groaned - that is, everyone else except Millicent Bulstrode who was still fast asleep.

"Oi, Millicent! " cried Roisin, walking over to the girl's bed. When she didn't respond, Roisin pulled back the hangings and prodded her in the arm. She still didn't wake, so Roisin took a deep breath and shouted, "WAKE UP!" right in Millicent's ear.

To everyone's surprise, Millicent didn't jump up or scream or anything of the sort; she merely twitched and carried on sleeping.

"Here, use this," Neve said to Roisin, passing her a pillow, and Roisin began to pummel Millicent with it. After a few seconds of doing so, the girls heard a low rough growl of, "Stop that! I'm sleeping!"

"Not anymore, Bulstrode. We've got breakfast at eight and classes start at nine!" said Roisin, giving Millicent one last beating with the pillow.

Neve, already dressed in her Hogwarts skirt and shirt, began pulling her grey socks onto her slowly numbing feet. "I wish we had a window," she muttered crossly. "Why do we get stuck in a dungeon while the Gryffindors and the Ravenclaws get towers? Even the Hufflepuffs get windows and they're on the ground floor!"

Pansy looked at her as if she was a particularly frightening banshee. "Neve, it's bloody cold outside! If we had a window and you opened it, we'd all be frozen by now! The fire's died, if you hadn't noticed."

Attempting and succeeding in keeping her anger inside, Neve tore her eyes away from the soft dark carpet, and said, "Well, hurry up and get dressed if you're so blood cold! You've got twenty minutes before breakfast," and padded to her trunk, taking out her jersey, robes, cloak and shoes.

At last, when the antique grandfather clock in the common room struck eight, Neve and Roisin arrived at the Great Hall. Along the way, they had taken two wrong turns, got stuck in a trick staircase, and fell forwards onto the shiny parquet. (Peeves the Poltergeist had caused the latter, pulling the rug they were walking on from under their feet, and only discontinued his pestering when Neve pulled out her wand and wrapped him up into a rug.)

So, angry and sore, they were very glad to finally enter the Great Hall and begin breakfast at the Slytherin table. The first meal of the day at Hogwarts was no worse than the feast from the night before, but this time the golden bowls and platters held stacks of toast, cornflakes, bacon and eggs, sausages, assorted muffins and cakes, ham or chicken sandwiches, various jams and spreads and different kinds of fruit.

Neve and Roisin were about to sit down near the end of the Slytherin table when they heard their names being called and turned to see Patrin Rosier grinning and beckoning them to join her. When Neve and Roisin reached her, Patrin immediately introduced herself and the girl beside her who, as they had thought, turned out to be Asmin Avery.

Patrin and Asmin were easily the two most noticeable girls at the table because of their bright Slytherin-coloured hair. They were also the most friendly-looking girls on the Slytherin table, both with roseate complexions and mischievous blue eyes.

As soon as they had sat down next to Patrin, Roisin began to gush forth her admiration. "It's brilliant, Pat! How did the Rosiers ever let you, not to mention old McGonagall? I thought she'd probably make you wash it all out before you went to bed!"

Patrin laughed, her blue eyes twinkling with merriment. "Professor Snape practically told her to piss off when she started badgering us about it. He said that it's good to see students who display pride in their house and even gave us five points each, so we got off scot free! As for my grandparents ... well, let's just say that Gran gave birth to a few kittens and she's doing fine now."

"Arlene screamed to high heaven when she saw that I did it, but I won that fight. My parents actually encouraged me!" said Asmin.

Just at that moment, Professor Snape came walking along the table, handing out the time-tables, and their conversation was interrupted.

On Mondays the Slytherin first-years had Herbology with the Ravenclaw first-years in Greenhouse One right after breakfast, then it was back up to the castle for Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall. After break, it was Charms with Professor Flitwick and History of Magic with Professor Binns. Then, after lunch, Defence Against the Dark Arts with Professor Quirrell and Potions with Professor Snape.

"Bloody hell! Not double Transfiguration!" wailed Patrin, looking at her own third year time-table. "McGonagall will probably want to pick on us again for dying our hair!"

"And I haven't finished my homework! I meant to do the rest of it last night, but I was so full from eating that I just had to get to bed! Oh, damn it, I'll probably get a detention!" said Asmin, rummaging in her bag furiously.

A bell echoed throughout the hall, and people began getting up from the tables, hurrying off to their first lesson. Patrin took her Transfiguration homework from her bag and handed it to Asmin, who began scribbling frantically on her own piece of parchment, which was already a foot long.

"Have fun, you two," said Patrin, as Neve and Roisin got up and slung their bags over their shoulders.

"Yeah, see you later!" said Asmin, not tearing her eyes away from the parchment, her writing getting more untidy by the second.

Neve and Roisin strode out of the Great Hall, into the grounds and across the grass to the greenhouses where Professor Sprout, a squat, cheerful-looking witch with short grey hair, stood in earth-covered robes, waiting for them.

When all the Slytherins and Ravenclaws had grouped around her she said, "Welcome to your first Herbology lesson. This year we will be working in Greenhouse One. It contains the less dangerous plants, though they are also some of the most useful and interesting ones. During Herbology lessons you will be doing a lot of practical work. Homework and assignments will be set, of course, and are expected to be done by the due date.

"Be careful how you treat the plants because some of them are very fragile and rare, and I do recommend that you always listen to what I am saying as it will prove to be valuable, Mr Malfoy."

The whole class stared at Draco Malfoy, who had been talking to his friends - Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle - seemingly not taking in anything of what Professor Sprout had been saying. But all who thought so were proved wrong as Sprout asked, "Can you tell me what I was saying just now, Mr Malfoy?"

"You recommend that we always listen to you because it will prove to be valuable," drawled Malfoy smugly.

"And you had better remember it if you don't want to lose points for Slytherin," barked Sprout. "Now, before you go in, put on your Herbology cloaks so your uniforms won't be sullied. Wear them every Herbology lesson, please."

The class did as they were told as she opened the door to the greenhouse, waiting until everyone had filed in before stepping inside herself and closing the door behind her.

Greenhouse One was a very large building with many different plants, some sporting flowers, others lush and green. The air was warm and stuffy and Neve began to feel quite hot in her uniform and Herbology cloak, as did the rest of the class by the looks on the faces and the gestures they made. Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini looked ready to faint at any moment.

Professor Sprout led them to the very back of the greenhouse and up to a dark corner where a cluster of twenty round pots stood, each with three vine-like seedlings about four inches in height and appearing to be made of rubber. "Can anyone guess what these plants are?" queried Sprout, looking round at the class.

Neve also looked around and saw that five Ravenclaws had their hands up to answer and no Slytherins at all. She decided to take the plunge herself, confident that she knew exactly what the plant was, as she'd often seen it growing in Mrs Coulden's garden. She raised her hand into the air and Professor Sprout turned to her. "I believe I know what they are," said Neve. "Devil's Snare?"

Sprout beamed at her and said, "Very good! Ten points to Slytherin. Indeed, they are specimens of the plant Devil's Snare, so called because of the creeping tendrils that will entwine themselves around an object and squeeze it to death. They are extremely strong and pliable, and it would take at least twenty cuts with the sharpest knife to sever any part of the plant from the stem.

"But you can survive if you ever do come in contact with Devil's Snare. You see, it dries and shrinks in the light, so naturally it prefers darkness. What you would have to do should you ever be faced with it is conjure up a fire or bring it out into sunlight. It will then release you and draw back into the darkness. Any questions?"

Nobody raised their hand or uttered a question so Professor Sprout continued. "You will be re-potting each of the seedlings into their own pot, as it is very unhealthy for them to share pots with each other when they are nearing five inches. We had cases in the past when they would entwine themselves around their own kind and choke each other mercilessly. We will continue doing this until all the seedlings have their own pot, which may take a while because they are not easy to re-pot.

"Now, the pots are over there in that corner, soil and compost under those benches - make sure you don't spill any - and the tap is over by those red plants. Fill the pots half with compost first, put the seedling in, then cover the roots with soil right up to the top of the pot and give them all liberal amounts of water. When you've finished with each pot, place them back in the same corner and make sure none of them get into the light! Oh, and do try not to come in contact with the actual tendrils because they will curl around your fingers and give you considerable pain; they're already very strong."

And so they re-potted the Devil's Snare seedlings for an hour and a half. This turned out to be no mean feat as the whole class soon realised. Five minutes after they started, they heard a horrible yell. Malfoy's friend Crabbe had managed to let a seedling twist itself around his fingers, and was frantically waving his hand around, but to no avail - the seedling had a tight grip on his fingers and only squeezed them harder, which caused Crabbe to blanche and yell louder still.

"Now, now, Mr Crabbe! Don't wave it around so! Here, into the sunlight!" exclaimed Professor Sprout, dragging his huge hand to the sunny window.

The plant slowly began to loosen its hold on Crabbe's fingers and draw away from the light that was pouring in through the window. Crabbe's yells soon subsided and the seedling fell to the floor when Sprout let go of his hand. She then expertly picked it up nearer to the roots, filled half a pot with compost and shoved the seedling into it, promptly covering the roots with damp black soil. "Here, boy. Give it some water, and hold it by the pot, not the plant!" she said, handing Crabbe the pot and moving away to observe the progress of other students.

Twenty minutes later the Slytherins trudged across the lawn, tired and dirty, for a ten-minute wash up at the castle before heading off to Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall was already waiting for them behind her desk when they entered the classroom, looking stern and disapproving. When they had all taken their seats she called the register, giving each and every Slytherin a very sharp look. Then, when she finished, she stared around the room, letting the silence spiral on menacingly.

"Transfiguration is one of the most difficult and hazardous types of magic taught at Hogwarts," she finally spoke. "If you are willing to learn it and do your best you will be rewarded for your efforts and I will have no reason to cause you trouble. If, however, you decide to mess around and be vexatious in my class after your third warning you will leave and not come back. I have warned you, so make your choice now."

Then she turned the globe on her desk into a hedgehog and back again. But if the Slytherins were hoping to start changing inanimate objects into animals, they were strongly disappointed. After copying a lot of confusing notes from the blackboard, Professor McGonagall gave them all a matchstick and told them to turn it into a needle.

"And the point of this is?" grumbled Roisin, frowning, as she struggled to Transfigure her matchstick without success.

"The point of this exercise, Miss MacKeve, is to acquaint you with the arduous work you will have to put into your Transfiguration studies and to give you an opportunity to see for yourself how capable you are of the magic at this moment in time," said Professor McGonagall sternly, making Roisin frown even more.

At the end of the lesson, the only two people who had made any difference to their matchstick were Neve and Draco Malfoy. Professor McGonagall gave Neve another piercing stare and raised her eyebrows at Malfoy as though unable to believe that they had such abilities.

When the Transfiguration lesson had ended, the Slytherin first-years all rushed out of the classroom, eager for break.

"I hate Transfiguration!" Roisin grumbled when they were well out of ear-shot of McGonagall.

"That was only the first lesson, you might get better after a while," said Neve bracingly.

"Might? I might get better?" Roisin spluttered. "Well, that's encouraging."

Neve sighed in exasperation. "OK, I'm sure you'll get better soon. You're bound to be better than even McGonagall herself! That suit?"

But Roisin continued to frown darkly and stomp down the corridors.

As soon as the bell rang for the end of break, she and Neve made for the Charms classroom, which was on the third floor. The only person inside it when they arrived was Professor Flitwick, who somewhat resembled the goblins in Gringotts bank. He had a wispy white beard, was dressed in elegantly embroidered robes, and was so tiny that he had to stand on a stack of books to see over his desk.

When all the Slytherins had finally arrived and seated themselves he treated them to a brief welcome and proceeded to teach them how to bewitch their book The Standard Book of Spells: Grade One so that, when they had finished reading a page, it would automatically turn to the next page by itself. This time, Neve and Malfoy were not the only students who succeeded in doing the task. Roisin made visible progress, along with Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini.

"Oh, very good! Five points to all those who succeeded!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, looking very surprised, as though he could hardly believe that Slytherins could be competent in magic.

Neve understood that the way the teachers acted towards herself and her housemates was due to the general belief that all Slytherins were wholly evil and unskilled in everything but Dark Magic. Of course, Neve knew that this wasn't quite true because Slytherin house had also turned out wizards and witches who put their magic to good use, like Roisin's grandparents.

But Neve made up her mind to exceed in every class so as to win the favour of the teachers and respect of her classmates from all four houses, though she was determined that she wouldn't be like Hermione Granger about the matter. (She was overly enthusiastic about it all and already quite unpopular with not only her own house, but Slytherin as well.) And anyway, it was not as though she wouldn't benefit from all the knowledge. She could get a good job at the end of her seventh year and become as rich as Mr and Mrs Coulden - perhaps even richer!

The bell echoed through the classroom, signalling the end of the lesson, and the Slytherins dragged their feet to their first History of Magic lesson. It was still empty when they came in, but when they had all settled into their seats and began conversing with their friends, the teacher of the subject, Professor Binns, floated into the classroom through the blackboard. Indeed, he went straight through the wall and hovered above his desk, scowling at them all, for he was a ghost and the only one to teach a subject at Hogwarts.

"Are you really Professor Binns?" questioned Morag MacDougal disbelievingly.

Professor Binns gazed at him through his lowered eyelids and said in a gravelly voice like chalk on a blackboard, "I am, indeed, and may I ask what your name is?"

"Well, you could, but then again, I could say 'no, you may not ask me what my name is' and you'd have to find it out from someone else," replied Morag cockily.

Professor Binns frowned and said, "I will not tolerate impertinence in my classes. This is your first warning, Mr - ?"

"MacDougal, Professor. And thanks so much for the warning, I'll make sure to forget it."

Binns frowned at Morag some more, but then shook his head resignedly and took a book from his desk. "Because of the great events that have happened during this week and the following week in the past - "

"What great events?" interrupted Roisin.

Binns sighed impatiently, which sounded like a page being turned over, and said, "An exhibition of enchanted cauldrons made to be self-stirring, collapsible, and the like was held for two weeks, beginning from this very day and ending on next Sunday six hundred years ago, Miss, er - ?"

"MacKeve, sir. And why is it really such a great event?"

Professor Binns seemed to be on the verge of losing his patience entirely because he tutted loudly and elaborated, "Because significant progress was made in a never-before-practiced field, Miss MacDonald! In those times, cauldrons were very simple and practical with nothing unusual or inventive about them. Which brings me to the introduction of this topic, starting with the birth of the first wizard to successfully experiment with enchanting cauldrons."

And he began reading from the extremely thick, heavy-looking tome he was holding (A History of Magic), so monotonously that the whole class stopped listening after the first five minutes. An hour and twenty-five minutes later, many of the Slytherin first years were yawning as they walked wearily to lunch in the Great Hall. The bell rang too soon again, forcing them to troop off to Defence Against The Dark Arts, where the very strange Professor Quirrell (who wore black robes with an odd purple turban, and had a very bad habit of stuttering) was already waiting for them.

He looked positively terrified when the Slytherins entered his classroom. Neve suspected this was because of the evil reputation Slytherin house had with the rest of the school. As soon as they sat down, Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini dropped their heads onto their arms and dozed off. But Professor Quirrell didn't seem to notice and, if he did, he was too afraid to rebuke them for it.

"W - w - welcome t - to Def - f - fence Against th - the Dark Arts, S - S - Slytherin f - first years," he stammered out, gazing uncertainly at them all as though wondering whether he should teach them or not. "M - my n - n - name is P - Professor Quir - Quirrell."

"Yeah, we already know that; it says so on our time-tables," said Theodore Nott, looking as though he'd burst into laughter at any moment.

"D - does it n - now? W - well, n - n - now th - that you know m - my n - name, I th - think w - w - we can begin th - the lesson," mumbled Quirrell, looking more alarmed than enthusiastic about the thought. He seemed to be trying and failing to smile cheerfully at them, for which Neve didn't blame him; all the Slytherins were no longer under the soporific power of Binns' voice and were grinning maliciously at Quirrell - even Pansy and Blaise, who were sniggering and whispering to each other behind their hands. "P - p - please open y - your b - books to p - p - page f - five."

The sounds of bags being opened and pages being turned filled the room for several seconds and silence ensued when the task was done. Quirrell then Transfigured a quill on his desk into a dull green chameleon. "As you c - can s - s - see, we w - will be s - studying chameleons. B - but who c - can tell m - me exactly what a ch - chameleon is?"

The silence was broken by loud giggles from the direction of Pansy and Blaise. Neve thought that at the way they were going they wouldn't get any points at all from this class. Even Draco Malfoy, who had shown such potential in Charms and Transfiguration, didn't bother to answer, though Neve was sure that he knew what it was. So she did it herself.

"A chameleon is a native lizard of Africa and Madagascar, and is able to change its skin colour to blend in with its surroundings so that predators won't notice it."

Professor Quirrell jumped a foot into the air and massaged his chest looking quite panic-stricken. His eyes widened in apparent shock when he saw who had answered his question and he stared at Neve for a few seconds, wholly motionless and silent. After a while he seemed to regain the use of his voice and said, "Y - yes ... erm ... th - thank y - you, Miss - ?"

"Coulden, Professor."

"T - ten p - points to S - Slytherin. B - but n - next time y - you answer a q - question, p - p - please put your hand up. And n - now," he said, addressing the class. "P - Please t - take out your quills and write d - down some n - notes about the ch - chameleon as I list th - them."

And, from that moment until the end of the lesson, they took notes of the magical properties of the chameleon and its habits as Professor Quirrell stuttered them out. But every time Quirrell looked at Neve she felt as though the insides of her mind were shivering, but she didn't know why he brought out that reaction from her.

Perhaps he didn't like her more than the other Slytherins ... but what had she ever done to him? This was the first time she'd ever clapped eyes on him and here he was, laying prejudices already. She wouldn't have been surprised if he'd been anything but a Slytherin when he had gone to Hogwarts.

The only lesson that the Slytherins were looking forward to that day was Potions because it involved being shut in a dungeon with the first-year Gryffindors and Professor Snape, Head of Slytherin house, who apparently was most unjust to any house other than his own. His greasy black hair, hooked nose and cold dark eyes made him appear much more imposing than any of the other teachers - Professor McGonagall being the exception, of course.

Like most of the other teachers, Snape was already waiting for them when the class arrived and, again, like many of the other teachers, he took the register before he began the lesson. But, unlike other teachers, he paused at many of the Slytherin names to comment on the members of their families ("Ah, Mr Theodore Nott ... I trust your parents are well? Good friends of mine when we were all still in school"), though when he came to Neve's name he merely gave her an odd look, and the only Gryffindor who he commented on was Harry Potter and it was nicely said.

"And of course, Harry Potter," he said mockingly. "The new celebrity of the school. Will you sign autographs for us first or pose for a photo, Potter?"

Draco Malfoy turned around, grinning, to look at Harry, and Neve felt a twinge of pity for the Gryffindor; his face was burning red and she could just imagine the waves of rage emanating from him.

When Snape finished with the register he looked around the class and the Gryffindors seemed to quail beneath his gaze, while the Slytherins expanded like flowers in sunshine. "In this class you will be taught about the subtle power of potion-making as well as the art itself," he said in his low quiet voice. "If you do not believe this is proper magic, then you are very mistaken and foolish, as you will later find out.

"Just because there is none of the anticipated wand-waving here, it does not mean that potion-making is a magic of less potency. In fact, sometimes it can be much more powerful than any other brand of sorcery. And you will learn and understand this also; that is, if you possess the abilities to do so."

Total silence followed this announcement. Draco Malfoy was now looking up at Snape with an expression of adoration on his face but Neve felt that she didn't like him very much. There was not a single speck of amiability in any aspect of him and he didn't even seem to want to be liked. Neve thought he certainly made no effort for it.

Presently, the questioning began, and Harry Potter was the victim. "Potter, tell me what would I get if I combined powdered root of asphodel with an extract of wormwood?" asked Snape, glaring at the boy with his unfathomable eyes.

Harry looked quite bewildered, but Hermione Granger had shot her hand up in the air and was practically bouncing up and down on her seat, an expression of utmost eagerness on her face.

"I don't know, sir," was Harry's answer.

"Well, well, well - fame doesn't necessarily bring knowledge does it, Potter?" sneered Snape. "All right. Where would you get it if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Again, Harry was completely at sea and Hermione stretched her hand even higher, whimpering with the effort.

And, once again, "I don't know, sir," was Harry's response.

Snape looked almost delighted, his eyes glittering maliciously. "Didn't think you needed those course books, did you, Potter?"

Neve saw Harry's mouth form into a hard line as he stared determinedly back at Snape. Neve thought he was doing very well for a Gryffindor in this situation.

But Snape's vindictive manner was not abandoned. "Tell me the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane."

Hermione jumped off her seat and waved her hand in the air, clearly desperate to answer for Harry who said, "I don't know. But it seems that Hermione does, and she really wouldn't mind answering for me."

A few people laughed but the sneer disappeared from Snape's face, only to be replaced by a cold, hard stare. He snapped at Hermione to sit down and informed Harry of the correct answers to his questions. The rest of the class fished in their bags for parchment, ink and quills - all except Neve and Draco Malfoy. She turned her head to the front where he was sitting and saw that he was looking at her with a sort of appraising expression on his face; his cold grey eyes held a glimmer of mild curiosity and it seemed he was trying not to smile.

Then, Neve heard Professor Snape saying something to her and tore her eyes away from Malfoy. "Miss Coulden, may I ask why you are not following your classmates' examples and writing down the information I have just said?"

"Because I could have told you what Hermione Granger was dying to say and even more. I can tell you that the aconite plant can also be used in many poisons and potions with unpleasant effects, such as the Tumor Venenum - the poison that makes the drinker grow a deadly tumour - and of course, the Draught of Living Death. I can also tell you that a bezoar is ruby-red and very hard, and that it is very difficult to get out of the goat's stomach because of its adhesive lining which dissolves when used in a potion," Neve reeled off loudly and proudly.

She could feel every eye in the room fastened on her, the whole class with expressions of amazement on their faces; everyone's, that is, except Malfoy's, who looked oddly amused. Snape was now giving her a shrewd and calculating look though not at all as if he was angry. After a few minutes of scrutinising her physiognomy, his mouth seemed to curl into a smirk and said, "Very good to know that some people are taking their school work seriously and finding the time to accumulate more knowledge. Ten points to Slytherin. And Potter," he called to the very back of the room, "a point will be taken from Gryffindor for your insolence."

Every Gryffindor gaped first at Snape then at Neve, shocked and speechless; the Slytherins, however, were grinning broadly as though each and every one of them had just earned ten points. Neve settled herself smugly into her seat and watched as Roisin scribbled away on her parchment. She heard Snape speaking to Malfoy and turned her head to look at them.

"If you provide me with a legitimate excuse, Mr Malfoy, I will not question your inactivity. It would be even better if you displayed your store of knowledge, like Miss Coulden just did, and possibly earn your house some points."

Malfoy raised a silvery eyebrow and very lazily, as if he could hardly be bothered to open his mouth, listed some of the chemical properties of aconite to the whole class.

Snape smirked again and said loudly, "Another ten points to Slytherin. Well, well, well ... here is proof that sapience really does pay off. I'm hoping that both you, Miss Coulden, and you, Mr Malfoy, will continue to grace us with your wisdom in the following classes." And, after gracing Neve and Malfoy with what could have been a smile, he swept off to the blackboard and began to write the ingredients for a simple potion that cured boils.

Neve glanced at Malfoy and a smirk carved itself around his mouth, but Neve was impassive. She was slightly surprised about the fact that Malfoy was quite a competent and clever wizard, but she wouldn't show it for the world; he was supposed to be her enemy, just like his parents, and she couldn't allow herself to feel anything but hate and indifference towards him.

She focused instead on cutting up her belladonna and daisy roots. Roisin was skinning some horned slugs next to her. When she'd finished slicing the roots, Neve tipped them into her bubbling cauldron of dandelion milk and stirred slowly. Further along, Professor Snape was commenting on the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when a loud hissing filled the dungeon.

Neve turned to her left and saw an acid green liquid seeping across the floor towards her, burning holes in people's shoes. She noticed that the cauldron at which Neville Longbottom and another Gryffindor boy, Seamus Finnigan, had been working at was now a black, twisted blob and that Neville had furry green boils popping up all over his face. Half the class was standing up on their desks, some with fearful expressions on their faces, others amused.

Snape strode over and cleared the spilled potion away with a wave of his wand, and turned to Neve and Malfoy in turn, saying, "You won't mind, if I put you two in charge of repairing the apparel of those who have been in contact with the potion, would you? I believe you will be more than suitable for this as I'm sure you know the necessary spell-work for it, do you not?" Neve and Malfoy nodded in unison and Snape seemed to smile again, this time warmer than before. "Thank you, Miss Coulden, Mr Malfoy."

And, with that, he went over to Neville and began to interrogate him while Neve and Malfoy muttered Reparation Spells and mended the shoes and robes that had been damaged (Malfoy taking the time to insult each Gryffindor that came towards him).

Their first Potions lesson ended there and the class rushed out of the dungeon for dinner but before Neve could follow Roisin out through the door, Professor Snape held her back. "If you wouldn't mind, Miss Coulden, I'd like to speak with you for a few minutes."

Neve walked over to his desk and stood in front of it, wondering what on earth he wanted to talk to her about. She found out soon enough.

"Miss Coulden, may I ask how you came to possess the knowledge that you demonstrated today? I did not ask Mr Malfoy this question because I know very well that his father would be the one to - ah - teach it to him. But although I was with your parents at school I was not, shall we say, particularly friendly with them and wouldn't know what designs they had in store for their children," said Snape in an amazingly gentle voice, devoid of mockery and with what seemed like genuine interest and concern.

"My parents didn't really teach me anything," Neve answered curtly. "All that I told you today I taught myself. We have a very large library at home and neither my mother nor my father objected to me reading and learning from books."

Snape nodded slowly. "I know exactly what you mean, Miss Coulden. I taught myself many things too, but I also had teachers and the lessons I learnt from them brought me more knowledge than any book could," he said, and gave a harsh laugh. Then he grew serious again and he fixed his eyes on Neve, who was starting to feel somewhat intimidated.

"You see, we are all fools, Miss Coulden," he continued bitterly. "Because only fools learn from their own mistakes, as the clever ones learn on others'. We all learn on our own mistakes because we all make them. You can't escape it and, if they are bad enough, they will haunt you for the rest of your life, as mine do. Enjoy your life, Miss Coulden, and live it to the fullest. Don't let yourself stray onto the wrong path, because you will either live or die regretting it."

He then dismissed Neve and left the young witch to her pestering curiosity about what his mistakes had been. She knew he wouldn't tell her his secrets willingly but she was determined to find out; she was a Slytherin after all, and the trademark cunning and perseverance of her house should help her along the way. And with that thought in mind she strode off to the Great Hall.