McGonagall taught the lesson in an engaging way; that much was undeniable. Others might not appreciate it due to her strictness, but she wove demonstrations into her explanations of the fundamentals of the science. For example, just now, obeying the professor's magic, the teacher's chair was transformed into a large tawny owl, which let out a resonant "Hoot!" and spread its wings. It even managed to flap its wings a couple of times, almost taking flight, but then, as if petrified, began to turn wooden and soon returned to its original form.
"Transfiguration is the science of transforming matter from one form into another," McGonagall continued her lecture. "You can read more about the history of the division of unified Sorcery into separate branches in your textbook, A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration, on page eleven. For now, let us talk directly about the branches of Transfiguration."
The picture that emerged was this: Transfiguration was divided into the following branches: Elementary, Advanced, and Higher. The so-called Elementary branch was the maximum known to the majority of wizards.
"Please copy the information from the board. The first and most fundamental branch, which you will deal with up to and including your fifth year, is the branch of Elementary Transfiguration, which includes the transfiguration of living and non-living objects. Of course, after the fifth year, if you choose to continue with Transfiguration, we will superficially study the branch of Advanced Transfiguration as well. The branch of Higher Transfiguration is included in the curriculum only as an introductory overview. It will consist largely of theoretical lessons, because things like Animagus transformation, multi-stage animation charms, and permanent transfiguration are not meant for comprehensive study within the school curriculum. However, if your fondness for Transfiguration only strengthens as you mature, information will be provided after your fifth year on where and how one can study Higher Transfiguration."
"There are two criteria by which Transfiguration, particularly Elementary, is often roughly divided. The first is division by the object of transformation, splitting the science into two types: Transfiguration of the living and the non-living. By the number of transformed objects, the science is divided into single and multiple."
"And what is the final general division, by the stage of transformation?"
"Partial and complete," I answered, though my initiative wasn't appreciated, as I had called out from my seat without raising my hand. One could probably guess it even without reading the textbook.
"Mister Malfoy, the answer is correct, but henceforth I expect an answer only after you have raised your hand." Despite the correct answer, the professor's features remained just as stern... "Plus five points to Slytherin for the correct answer, and minus two points for calling out."
"Welp..." I whispered quietly, causing my nearest neighbors to snicker.
"I believe we will conclude the classification for today. Now it is important to understand how a transfigurative transformation occurs. But that will be in our next lesson. That is all for today," the professor announced, nodding towards the board. "Your homework is to write a short essay on the division of Transfiguration by the object of transformation and the number of transformations. Also, for the time being, I will be checking your class notes."
"I strongly recommend you consider the option of submitting an additional essay by the end of this month. The essay is on famous Transfiguration wizards and their discoveries. You will find all the necessary materials for this in the library." As she spoke, Professor McGonagall wrote the assignment on the board for everyone to copy. Regarding the extra credit, she also wrote clear requirements regarding the number of wizards and what exactly needed to be written. After all, we were still children and would likely struggle without specific instructions on how and what to do. I would have said 'except for me,' but lately, there's been a bit too much of 'Me' in my thoughts.
As soon as she finished writing, she took her place at the teacher's desk and began preparing for her next lesson. Right at that moment, the bell rang. Did she have a clock in her head or something? I was sure I hadn't seen any clock, and she hadn't used the Tempus charm, which, by the way, did exist here, like in some fanfictions.
We slowly began to file out of the classroom. I, of course, had written everything down in my notebook. I decided to do the extra work too, purely to show interest, and honestly, I was curious. I definitely hadn't expected a lesson like this. So far, Transfiguration, and McGonagall in particular, were leading in my list of... two lessons.
After classes, we didn't scatter but waited near the classroom, discussing the lesson until the prefects arrived. They accompanied us everywhere so we wouldn't get lost, and getting lost in a seven-story castle with lots of secret passages, moving staircases, and other wonders was as easy as waving a wand... In short, it was surprisingly simple, so one of the prefects always came after lessons to escort us to the next classroom, and I suspect they managed to get to their own lessons on time.
By the way, lessons lasted one hour, with 15-minute breaks between them. A bell rang to signal the end and start of lessons, as well as before and after meals.
"Honestly, I already like Transfiguration!"
"Wow, Malfoy, showing emotion!? Maybe you should have been in Gryffindor." What a lame dig, just because she's the Head of Gryffindor? Oh, these juvenile idiots... and this came from... Marcus. But not Avery, this was Flint. I remember in the films he had those protruding teeth... here, it wasn't as bad or neglected, but his teeth still stuck out. Strange that it wasn't fixed, but maybe there was something I didn't know. Magical medicine was capable of so much...
"Wow, Flint, nice teeth!" The Slytherins standing nearby started laughing. Marcus wanted to say something, but... I needed to put him in his place. He was a teenager, but so was I now. He started turning red, his nostrils flaring — clearly a sore spot.
"Why, you little..." the red-faced Marcus — I'll designate him as 'the dull one' to avoid confusion — began to swear. I didn't let him finish; I didn't want to create an enemy.
"My apologies, I didn't mean to offend you so deeply. But listen to me carefully, Flint. It is unwise not to study a subject simply because it is taught by another Head of House. A different house does not mean an enemy; we are all students of the same school. I would be severely disappointed in the intellectual capacity of anyone who fails to understand such a simple truth. I hope you realize what nonsense flew out of your mouth just a minute ago?" I didn't really want to apologize, but I had been the one to lash out first.
If it was due to some family curse, then I shouldn't have touched on it, hence the apology. It's an unspoken taboo in pure-blood circles. Almost every pure-blood family with a long history has a family curse. And it's like a sore spot. In general, I needed to fill this gap in my knowledge and in the future think more before speaking.
"I... meant that you... uh..."
"We all understood, Flint, just apologize," even Avery chimed in.
"Alright..." Scratching the back of his head, he finally calmed down, though he was still red as a tomato. "Sorry, Malfoy, I meant something else, and... well, sorry."
"If it matters, I'm always open to new friends!" I extended my hand to Flint, which he reluctantly shook. And the main thing — we smile, so he understands what a jerk he's being. If only they knew how ashamed I felt, arguing with a teenager, but the shame was only felt by the remnants of that adult 'me' inside.
So far, by the way, there hadn't been any real conflicts besides this little spat. Either I wasn't making a very convincing 'evil Malfoy,' or the 'Chosen One' just wasn't here yet to provide a proper rival.
Soon, the prefect arrived and led us down to the dungeons, where the great and terrible Snape was waiting for us.
The Potions classroom, located in the castle dungeons, appeared before us as a gloomy, cold room, devoid of windows, of course. The only sources of light were enchanted lamps that cast a dim glow onto the rows of work desks. Shelves lined the walls, holding jars with preserved animal organs suspended in alcohol, boxes, and vials containing dried herbs and roots, insects, and liquids of unknown origin.
According to the schedule, we had three Potions lessons per week — the same number as Charms and Transfiguration.
Needless to say, after the morning Herbology lesson in the sunshine and the cozy Transfiguration classroom, everyone now felt only fear and a distinct chill, glancing around nervously as they awaited the start of the lesson.
Severus Snape began the class by checking the student roster. His very demeanor and the tone with which he simply verified everyone's presence was enough to frighten some.
If until that moment some had dared to whisper to a neighbor or rustle parchment, the moment the professor raised his gaze, we all froze at once. Snapping the register shut, he emerged from behind his desk.
"I am Professor Snape. I will be instructing you in the art of potion-making within these school walls." He spoke clearly, yet just loudly enough to be barely audible even in the back rows. Every student heard his words distinctly. "In my classes, you will not be waving your wands or shouting incantations, so many of you will scarcely believe that Potions is one of the pillars of magical science. And only a select few can appreciate the exquisite beauty of a simmering cauldron, emitting its delicate aroma, and grasp the sheer power possessed by those who have spent dozens of hours over a sleeping draught. I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses, how to put a man into a deathlike sleep with a single drop, how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper on death. Precisely because of this, I do not expect outstanding success from you. But that does not mean you can treat this subject with neglect. I will not tolerate such an attitude in my classroom."
The dim light animated the shadows on the shelves and walls, making it seem as if the murky air itself densely enveloped everyone in the room. The professor's figure, so reminiscent of a giant bat, looked perfectly harmonious in this setting. The hem of his robes lightly brushed the stone floor, as if dissolving into it.
"Potions is an applied science. This means that theory alone will not suffice for mastery; practical skill is also required. So, what constitutes the concept of potion-making? Potion-making is the science that studies the properties of substances and their characteristics, both individually and in various combinations, and the methods of preparing from them a substance called a potion. Then, what is a potion?" Snape swept a calm gaze over the class, but none of us dared to raise a hand and offer an answer. "A potion is most often a liquid magical substance, prepared from one or several ingredients of plant, animal, or mineral origin. The task of the potioneer is to learn how to properly release their non-magical and magical properties. First and foremost, you must understand that the science of potion-making does not tolerate inaccuracies or self-doubt. Any potion, even the most innocuous cure for the common cold, can become deadly dangerous if you do not follow the recipe precisely." The room filled with the sound of scratching quills and rustling parchment. I hurriedly wrote down the professor's every word, as did everyone present.
"As I've already said, a potion's ingredient can have different origins, and based on the potion's composition, we can classify it. In truth, there is no single, unified classification for potions. But you will read more about this in your textbooks." The professor began moving slowly between the rows of desks, forcing students to turn their heads to keep his gaunt figure in sight. The entire lesson continued like this; Snape pacing back and forth like a crow mimicking a human gait, telling us the intricacies, all the while focusing his attention on the overly slow or overconfident students.
"The last thing you must learn today is the rules of conduct in this classroom. In practically all lessons, you will be working with ingredients, most of which are dangerous in themselves or have very unpleasant consequences if used incorrectly. Therefore, I strongly recommend you write down everything I am about to list, and subsequently memorize it. Anyone who breaks these rules will be very tangibly penalized." Our Head of House flashed his eyes and continued in a silky voice. "And those of you who dare to break them systematically can forget about receiving a passing grade in my subject. Many students have found themselves repeating a year, having believed too strongly in their own uniqueness and specialness."
"During practical lessons, you will work in protective aprons and gloves. All jewelry must be removed, hair tied back," Snape dictated monotonously. "There should be no extraneous objects at your workstation. Before and after a practical lesson, you must wash your hands thoroughly. It is strictly forbidden to lean over a boiling cauldron and inhale potion fumes," the professor raised his voice, "If, however, anyone is foolish enough to inhale the vapors, you must report to me immediately."
I think after that, everyone will be afraid to approach him, even though he's right. You can't hide something like that.
"Next. In lessons, adhere to the recipe and do not make any adjustments to the potion's composition. If I notice the slightest deviation from the instructions, you will be punished. If I see anyone with a self-stirring cauldron, that student will leave my classroom forever. The sixth and seventh years are allocated time in the curriculum for potion experimentation, but until then, no liberties are permitted. Ask about anything unknown or unclear. If you or your neighbor has done something incorrectly, you are obliged to report it to me immediately. This rule applies especially to those whose houses are known for particular closeness and encourage the foolish habit of covering for their own. Every time the brilliant idea to keep quiet enters your head... remember that an incorrectly brewed potion can explode, spray acid in your face, or release a poisonous gas that will fill the entire classroom... And make the right decision."
Snape stopped by his desk, turning to face us and waiting until we had all finished writing.
"It is forbidden to remove the results of your work from lessons, just as it is forbidden to bring finished potions to class. And, of course," — the professor's voice suddenly filled with a venom, one drop of which could have killed all the plants in Madam Sprout's greenhouses — "for the particularly slow-witted, I will remind you of the last obvious rule: it is forbidden to taste ingredients or potions."
A few kids snickered quietly, thinking the last rule was a joke. However, watching the professor's reaction — not a single muscle twitched on his face — I understood that the last item stated was more likely a recurring issue with students than a jest. From Snape's heavy gaze, many probably deduced that he repeated these seemingly obvious rules to students year after year, yet, apparently, there were always skilled individuals capable of surprising him.
"Your homework is on the board," he continued, as soon as the scratching of quills began to subside. "This lecture is concluded."