Chapter 3

Zoe

I don't see Eric or Stevie for the remainder of the night, which makes me both sad and scared. I go to bed sorrowfully, praying that tomorrow will turn out to be much better.

***

The following morning, I slip out of my dorm extra early, so I don't have to face any of Pansy's criticisms when I wake up. It's the first day of classes, and I already have plenty of nerves to spare.

The great hall is peaceful in the morning. The house elves have already served breakfast, and only a couple of students mill about the empty tables, picking out perfectly toasted slices of bread and goblets of orange juice.

I slide into a seat towards the middle of the table, and pull out the schedule that Professor Snape - the head of Slytherin - handed me last night.

First up on the list is Potions, then Charms, followed by Transfiguration with Gryffindor. After lunch comes Herbology with Ravenclaw, Defense Against the Dark Arts with Hufflepuff, and History of Magic or Care of Magical Creatures (on alternating days). On Wednesdays and Fridays at 9:30 at night, I have Astronomy.

From what I'm told, there are more advanced classes like Divination and Ancient Runes, but I'm not allowed to take them yet because I have too much to catch up on already.

After Stevie and Eric drop by my table to compare schedules, I decide to head off to my first class a little early - this castle is a maze, and I don't want to get lost on my first day.

Even with a head start, it takes me quite awhile to make it back down to the dungeons, and even longer to find the potions classroom. I can hear loud chatter from inside the class, and I already know that I'm the last one to arrive.

With a quick and shaky breath, I wrench open the door and step inside.

Upon entering, I notice that almost every table is already filled up with Slytherin students. Most of them eye me with distaste. I begin to feel like I might get sick. I just need somewhere quiet to sit, where I don't have to talk to any of these assholes for the next hour.

"Hey, Fletcher, over here!" A deep voice calls from across the room.

I glance around, and see that the boy with crooked teeth is waving at me from a table towards the back of the room. There are five stools, and only one of them is still open. At the other three sit a boy with a blocky head, a boy with crow-black hair, and, rather unfortunately, Blaise Zabini. I suck in my breath.

Unsure, I pick my way towards the back table and shakily slide into the empty stool, where I'm greeted by a crooked-toothed smile.

"Hey, Zoe." He grins. "Sorry I didn't tell you my name last night. I'm Marcus Flint, captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team."

"Hey," I smile, trying to play nice, "it's nice to meet you."

Blaise gives a scoff, picking at his fingernails uninterestedly. I momentarily wonder if it's directed at me or Flint.

"You're trying too hard." He says.

Flint snaps towards him, his face pulling back in a snarl. "Shut the hell up, idiot."

Before either of them can get out another word, the door swings open.

"Top of the morning to you, students!" The professor - an aging man named Horace Slughorn - calls merrily as he strolls into the classroom. He's holding a box in his hand - something that he's eating out of. "I believe you all should be in here for Advanced Potions, level six?"

The class nods in unison, but my stomach just twists uneasily. The mere sound of that fills me with dread. I pull a pad of parchment out of my book bag, and label the first page Potions.

"Today, to start you all off, I'd like to test your abilities in potion-crafting, and see where all of you are as a class." Slughorn continues. "You'll be brewing the Draught of Living Death."

The students let out a collective sigh. I assume that this must be something hard to make, which makes me even more nervous than I already was. I really want to get good marks this year, for my grandpa.

"Ah, don't worry, now." Slughorn continues, a single pudgy finger raised in the air. "I'll be coming around during the class to help anybody who needs it. Now, get to work!"

Dull chatter spreads throughout the room as students head towards the ingredients cabinet and pull out cauldrons. I shift in my seat, feeling awkward and unsettled. I try to copy the movements of everyone else - pull out my book, flip to page 324. Fill my cauldron with water, boil it.

"Don't worry, Zoe." Flint says, materializing behind my shoulders. "I'll get you your ingredients."

He flashes a grin - something so quick that I barely notice it. I smile back, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Why is this boy so keen on helping me?

Flint returns with my ingredients a moment later, spreading them out like tarot cards on the table. He drags his stool over next to mine.

Blaise looks up at him quizzically. "What are you doing, Flint?"

"I'm helping Zoe." He retorts, like it's obvious that I'd need somebody to do this for me. "Work on your own shit. Don't try and cheat off of me."

"Not planning on it." Blaise says. "I'm not trying to fail."

"Dickface." Flint says, and Blaise throws up a rude finger at him.

"Don't worry." Flint turns to me, spotting my confusion. "We're friends. We just fuck around with each other a lot."

I think to myself that I certainly don't act like that around my friends, but decide to let it go - it must be a Slytherin thing. I crack open my book, hoping he'll know that this means I want to get started.

"So, what do we do first?"

"We can get to that in a minute. So, have you ever been taught anything about magic?"

"Obviously not." Blaise pipes up again. "Otherwise she wouldn't need help from your dumbass."

"Shut up, Zabini. I'm trying to talk to her."

Flint turns back to me, the softness returning to his eyes. Listening.

"Well," I force myself to say, "not really. That's why I'm sort of nervous about my classes here."

He leans in, and quite close. "I get it. I can always help you, so, don't be afraid to ask."

Blaise gives another scoff, and Flint waves him off. "Don't listen to him. He's an ass."

I glance behind my shoulder, scanning the room for Slughorn. He's standing at a table near the front, stooped over the shoulder of Pansy Parkinson. Silently, I pray for him to come over here, so he can tell Flint to go away and work on his own potion.

"So, how do we start again?" I ask, seriously hoping that he'll take the hint this time.

Flint's lips purse in hesitation, but he decides to succumb.

"Well," He says, glancing down at the instructions, "first, add the infusion of wormwood."

I take a small vial with the matching label, and pour it into my cauldron. Flint dumps in the contents of a second vial - this time red, powdery - and tells me to stir clockwise twice.

"You're a natural." He says, ogling over my potion. "You really look good at this stuff."

I quietly thank him, even though I've only completed the simplest of steps. My eyes flit to the clock across the room. I'm already dying to be out of this class, and we're only fifteen minutes in.

Just then, a third voice sounds from behind us.

"Mister Flint, I appreciate your volunteerism. However, I'd like Mister Zabini to help out our new student for the time being."

It's Slughorn - he stands closely behind our shoulders, observing our barely begun potion with disappointment.

"He quite excels in potions." The professor says, turning to me with a reassuring smile. "He'll be a great help to you."

Despite Slughorn's kind words, I feel dread rising within me. Out of all the Slytherins I've met so far, Blaise seems to hate me the most. Hopefully, he decides to go a little easy on me for now.

Blaise drags his stool over to my side of the table, looking rather bothered. He flips open his potions book with an exhale of annoyance.

"So," I say, "what do you think I should do t-"

"Just don't touch anything." His voice is harsh when he cuts me off. "That way, I can get this done as soon as possible, and you won't mess it up."

I sit back in my stool, stunned. Under the shadow of this boy, I feel defeated. I haven't even done anything to him, and he already hates me.

That's just how Slytherins are, the voice in the back of my head reminds me. And you're one of them.

Right.

The rest of the hour drags by at a painfully slow crawl. When the bell finally rings, I sweep my books into my bag as quickly as I possibly can, and slip out into the corridors.

Hopefully, the rest of my classes won't be as horrid as the first one was.

***

By the time Transfiguration rolls around, I feel miserable.

It's only ten in the morning, and I'm already fantasizing about crawling back into my four-poster tonight, where I can grab a few restless hours of sleep during which I won't have to think about Flint, Blaise, or anybody else.

Thankfully, Transfiguration is the first class that the Slytherins share with another house. The thought of making a few friends outside of my dark, jeering housemates brings a blossom of hope to me.

I slip through the classroom door just as the bell rings, and instantly begin to scan for open seats.

There's only one vacant spot left in the class, at a table for two near the rear of the room. It's next to a bulky boy wearing Gryffindor robes, with freckles and mousy hair.

I immediately feel hesitant. I've heard that Gryffindors and Slytherins don't exactly get along. What if he sees my green and silver robes and decides he doesn't like me?

I force my legs into motion, anyways, approaching the table in the back with forced confidence.

"Need somewhere to sit?"

His perky, uplifting voice comes as a pleasant surprise to me. He has an accent - one that comes from somewhere west of Copenhagen.

"Yes, actually." I smile, plopping down next to him with relief. "Thank you - thanks a lot. It's been a rough day."

"I can tell." He extends his hand. "I'm Seamus."

"Zoe." I respond, grinning.

Surely, this boy has seen the Slytherin patch on my robes by now. I'm amazed that he hasn't told me to fuck off and find a new seat yet.

"Hey, you're new here, right?" Seamus says. "You just got sorted yesterday."

"Yes, into Slytherin."

"Strange." He glances down at the serpent badge on my robes. "You don't look like one."

"That's not the first time I've heard that."

He laughs out loud - a warm, hearty sound that rings of optimism and genuineness. Right away, I feel the pressure lift from my chest, and an uncontrollable giggle bursts from my lips, because I've finally found a friend outside of Slytherin.

Maybe this year is going to be okay, after all.

***

After classes, I find myself trotting down to the black lake for a visit with Stevie and Eric - something I've been longing to do since they departed for Ancient Runes this morning. We've decided to meet out under a thick willow, a few minutes after last period ends.

I feel guilty for not truly enjoying my first day at Hogwarts, and mentally note that I'll try a little harder to have fun tomorrow - for both Abraham and my friends.

As soon as I see the cheery faces of my two best friends hidden beneath the shade of the tree, I instantly feel happier than I have all day.

"What's up, baby hot stuff?" Eric says the moment I plop down next to him. "Tell us about your first day - and don't leave out a single thing."

"It was good." I force out, and then decide not to lie. "I mean, not that great, honestly."

Eric gasps in horror, and Stevie frowns.

"Why's that?"

"Well," I say, "I don't think my Slytherin housemates are very fond of me."

"Who?" Eric asks. "This is a very critical piece of information, Zoelle, so don't go lying to us."

Critical?

This confuses me, but I decide to blurt out the first name that comes to mind. "Well, Blaise Zabini."

Eric's eyes widen, his lips purse together - a look that means he knows exactly what's going on.

"Oh, honey. Don't even think about it."

"Eric, I have no idea what you're talking about."

He gives me a short, high-pitched little laugh, as if to say, yes, actually, you do. "I see the look in your eyes. Don't try to fool me."

I raise an eyebrow at him, now even more baffled than I was before.

He shakes his head. "Blaise Zabini is the single most gorgeous individual that this school has ever seen - god, I wish he liked boys - unfortunately, though, his heart's as cold as a stone."

"He's trying to say that Blaise doesn't date girls - just hooks up with a few." Stevie's voice is more of a sigh as she explains Eric's words to me.

"So don't get your hopes up."

"What?" I say, bewildered. "No, no. I'm not interested in him. He's a complete asshole - that alone ruins any good looks he has."

"Assholes can be hot. That's why I'm dating Hank."

"Not to me, they can't." I say. My voice sounds small and unsure against the flowering wind. Something inside of me feels that way as I say it, too - small, unsure.

But Blaise Zabini was a total dick to me - harsher than anyone else in Slytherin. There's no way that he would ever be anything else to me than just that - an asshole housemate.

And at the time, I'd actually believed it.

***