The next day, as the four girls headed to the Great Hall together, we immediately came across Malfoy and his friends picking a fight with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.
"Oh? If it isn't Potter and Weasley. It's a bit late to say this, but Potter, you really shouldn't be associating with people like them. And you too, Weasley. Is this breakfast? If so, I'd be happy to send some to your house as well. I'm sure it would be quite the feast."
"Shut up, Malfoy!"
Ron snapped back, his face bright red.
"Right after enrolling, the boys are already living out their青春. How heartwarming," someone remarked.
"No, that way of thinking is just wrong."
When I turned around, I saw a pug-like face wearing an exasperated expression.
After talking with her since last night, I realized this girl is actually quite sensible. That's probably why she has been acting as the mediator for the other three until now.
"Think about it. You know how they say the opposite of love isn't hate, but indifference? In other words, doesn't intense hatred just mean intense love in reverse?"
"Elaina, that's deep," Daphne said.
"It's not deep at all," Millicent replied.
Apparently Daphne understood, but Millicent did not.
While Pansy, ever loyal to her friends, went to back Malfoy up, we took our seats to eat breakfast.
There was tea, of course, along with bacon and eggs, sausages, grilled tomatoes, treacle tart, baked beans, haggis, toast… This was the full breakfast the British Empire takes pride in. Any Muggle who says British food is terrible should rethink that opinion after eating a traditional English breakfast three times a day.
"Elaina, do you want some grilled mushrooms?"
"Why would I want to eat fungi that grow on trees?"
Mushrooms can be left to Crabbe and Goyle.
**
"Wow, wow! The stairs are moving!"
On the way to our first class, Daphne Greengrass was bouncing around like a child atop the moving staircase. Well, technically, all of us were eleven-year-old children.
"Calm down, Daphne."
"You'll get yourself killed."
As Daphne nearly fell to her death from getting too excited, Millicent and Pansy stepped in with practiced ease to stop her.
"Still, this contraption really has no practical value at all. It's fun to watch, but that's about it."
Even if the founders were just fooling around, this feels like overkill. Moving staircases are one thing, but stairs with missing steps that require you to jump, corridors that appear and disappear without warning, doors that won't open unless you solve riddles or know the password… It's unreasonable to expect first-year students to get through all that on their own.
In that respect, one good thing about Slytherin is its strong sense of in-group loyalty. Thanks to that, even upperclassmen who looked rather rough were kind enough to give directions as long as you were a fellow Slytherin.
It somehow reminded me of the delinquent neighbors back in my hometown, Robetta. You wouldn't get this kind of thing from busy salarymen in a big city like London.
By the way, our first class was called "Fairy Charms," an undeniably cute name. The moment I entered the classroom, I felt like I understood why.
"I am Filius Flitwick, and I'll be teaching Fairy Charms!"
He was a very small professor, standing on a stack of books placed on top of the desk. Adorable.
On top of that, the lesson itself was easy to understand and genuinely interesting.
After some guidance, there was a short lecture and a practical exercise. The task was to make small sparks fly from the tip of your wand. Strictly speaking, it wasn't quite a spell. You simply infused magical power into the wand, and the excess magic was released outward as sparks. Apparently, it's commonly used as basic training for directing magic to the wand tip.
"Oh, very well done! Everyone, look here. Miss Celesteria is our first success!"
Wearing a smug expression, I accepted a reward cupcake from Professor Flitwick. Beside me, Pansy Parkinson was still struggling. She was swinging her wand with the expression of an angry bulldog, but nothing was happening yet.
"Elaina, do you have any tips or something?"
"There aren't really any tips. You just put magic into the tip of the wand."
"I shouldn't have asked…"
Pansy, you don't have to look that sulky.
"Oh, it worked when I did it the way you said. Thanks!"
It seems Daphne managed it successfully. Despite her foolish-looking appearance, her magical ability might actually be quite solid. You really can't judge a book by its cover.
Thinking that, I turned my gaze toward Millicent.
"Maybe if I hit it?"
"Are you a caveman?"
In the end, perhaps thanks to Professor Flitwick's careful instruction, most of the students succeeded in producing sparks from their wands.
Crabbe and Goyle did not.
**
"No kidding, that was great. And the professor was cute too."
"And we even got sweets for succeeding."
Still riding the wave of excitement, I headed to the next class together with Daphne and the others. The second period was Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Defense Against the Dark Arts. Just the name alone makes it sound like victory is already guaranteed. Many of the students, their expectations high, opened the classroom door where Professor Quirrell was waiting.
What greeted us there was something else entirely.
As the door swung open with a bang, Pansy Parkinson, who was in front, reflexively shut it again. She cautiously opened it once more, then frowned and closed it again.
"Is it just me, or does it smell insanely garlicky in there?"
"What a coincidence, Pansy. I completely agree."
A heavy garlic odor filled the classroom. If Professor Quirrell had been cooking peperoncino in the room for breakfast, you might expect something appetizing, but this was lacking that savory aroma. If anything, it smelled downright unpleasant.
Then Draco Malfoy arrived behind us and whispered with a grimace.
"I heard that ever since he ran into a vampire in Romania, he's been carrying garlic to ward them off. An upperclassman told me his turban is stuffed with garlic."
At least deal with it using magic. You are supposed to be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, after all.
"Maybe I should just go home…"
"I see. Goodbye, Pansy."
"Why won't you stop me!?"
Pansy really seems like the kind of girl who would be an absolute pain to deal with once you get involved with her.
Still, skipping class right from the start was out of the question, so we reluctantly entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.
To sum it up, the lesson itself was fairly ordinary.
Many students felt let down, but then again, a first lesson usually consists of guidance and the teacher introducing themselves. In that sense, the class was actually rather substantial for an opening session, since it at least covered dangerous magical creatures and their characteristics in the wizarding world.
That said, similar lessons continued afterward, and Professor Quirrell's severe stutter made him hard to understand, so revising that opinion would come later.
Then lunchtime arrived.
"Ajillo and peperoncino, chakhokhbili with garlic, and garlic rice…"
What an overwhelming lineup of garlic.
Is this some kind of harassment?
The Slytherin students' mood plummeted instantly. The only exception was Daphne, who had already been saying during class, "Smelling garlic just made me hungry." She is definitely the type who would hear about a foreign object found at a major chain restaurant and then go, "Come to think of it, I haven't been there lately," and casually drop by anyway. Definitely.
The rest of the Slytherins, myself included, finished lunch with no appetite at all. In the end, we drowned everything in heaps of ketchup or mustard to mask the taste and smell. With hollow expressions, we headed off to the next class.
**
After lunch came Transfiguration. Unlike Fairy Charms, which "imbue objects with effects," this subject is about "fundamentally changing the object itself."
I will never forget the sight of Daphne shouting, "So cute!" at a cat in the classroom and reaching out to pet it, only for it to transform into the stern-faced Professor McGonagall, causing the entire class to turn pale.
"Transfiguration is one of the most complex and dangerous subjects you will study at Hogwarts. Any student who approaches my class with a careless attitude will be asked to leave, and I have no intention of allowing them back. Consider this your warning from the outset."
Professor McGonagall opened the class with a warning that perfectly matched her reputation for strictness and intellect.
After that, she performed an advanced demonstration by turning a desk into a pig, then assigned us practical work: turning a matchstick into a golden needle.
While most of the Slytherin students failed to produce any change at all, as for me—
"How is this, Professor McGonagall?"
"…That is a golden matchstick."
"No, it is a needle."
"The tip is not sharp."
"Professor McGonagall, then allow me to ask in return. What exactly is a 'needle' to begin with?"
To summarize the definition of a needle, it is essentially a tool for piercing something. In other words, having a sharp tip is merely one possible means to that end. As long as it fulfills the purpose of piercing, it does not strictly have to be pointed.
"See, if you look closely, with a little force it can pierce my robe just fine."
"Slytherin, minus one point."
The world is an unfair place.
(End of chapter)
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