It's been a few days since arriving at Hogwarts by now. Hermione woke me earlier than the rest this morning, suggesting we get ready early so we can get to know one another some more, as well as write her letter to her parents, and finish up on some early-morning study. I agreed, and so now here we are, talking about our interests. I also brought down my copy of Newt Scamander's: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them to keep myself occupies as I slowly eat my jam toast.

"What are you reading, Y/N?" Hermione asks from across the table, a quill in hand and a sealed envelope beside her half-emptied plate.

"It's a book on all sorts of magical creatures, by a man called Newt. I'm currently reading up on his discovery of where to best find Murtlaps. They're sea creatures, you see. Apparently they're found in the seas of Britain."

"I haven't read that one..." she replies sheepishly. "I wonder if they have a copy here in the library?"

"You can borrow mine if you'd like. I'm almost done. This publication is quite new. Connie got it for my eleventh birthday. She picked it up on one of her trips to America, this year. I don't mind lending it to you," I suggest.

"You wouldn't? That'd be wonderful! Well, what's you're favourite chapter so far?"

"I'd have to say his chapter on Occamy. They're a serpentine creature native to the far east and India. They're like a snake with wings, and they're beautiful, here," I smile as I flip to the previously-read chapter and show her a detailed depiction of the beast.

"Amazing," Hermione smiles in response.

"So, Hermione, what's home life like? I can imagine living with Muggles must be quite different to what I'm used to," I ask happily.

"Of course. I didn't even know I was a witch until I received my letter, after all, but after seeing all of this, and reading all I have, I can't imagine going back to the way we were, you know? Just the things I know now, the spells, the potions I've studied, I can't believe I once barely considered them existing.

"It's all rather different, I'd guess, though I haven't been within a house of magic users, so I couldn't really tell you what's different at all. I'd have to try living with a magic family for a little while to understand it even myself."

I nod before taking another bite.

"Our first lesson is Potions with Severus Snape, right? Are you excited for that? I am. I like Potions, as the exact science of the entire thing, measurements and such, methods and memorised magic's. It's all so spectacular!"

"I'm looking forward to it, too, though not as much as Charms and Transfiguration, as I think I've said before," she says with a chuckle.

"Maybe once or twice," I reply with a laugh.

"So, what do you think of this year's classes? Are you liking them?"

I look to the piece of parchment I've been using as a bookmark and glance over the classes, their times, and respectful professors.

Each Wednesday, at midnight, we have Astronomy, where we have to make our way up to the Astronomy Tower to find Professor Sinistra, a tall, dark-skinned, lovely witch, and study the night sky as well as learn the names of different planets, constellations, and other Astronomical bits and pieces.

Three times a week we'll go to the greenhouses behind the castle to meet Professor Sprout, a shorter, plumper witch, with frazzled, boxy, silver hair, and a rounded face, for Herbology, and learn about all things plant related that can be useful within a wizards or witches arsenal.

Some days we'll take our History of Magic class with Professor Binns, who's a ghost, turns out, who died in his classroom after falling asleep in front of the fire. I respect his lessons, and find the history of magic somewhat dull, but essential. What makes the class almost unbearable though, is the way he drones on and on monotonously, making most of us want to pull out our hair and fly out the window.

These are some of the more somber classes. I've taken more of a liking to the following.

We take Charms class with Professor Flitwick, a very short, very passionate wizard whom I've heard is marvelous in duels, and is even better with charms. Both Hermione and I enjoyed completing the homework given in his class the most, as we enjoy the art in itself, as well as his way of teaching it.

Our Transfiguration classes are held by Professor McGonagall, the emerald-green, tall witch who greeted us by the doors on our first night in the castle. Her classes are magnificent as well, and she was overjoyed when both Hermione and I were able to properly transform our match sticks into needles our first try.

Defense Against the Dark Arts, or, as most of the students refer to it, DADA, is held by the turban-clad, Professor Quirrell, where he'll run through different forms of Dark magic and the proper repulsion and protection techniques for many different harmful and even illegal spells, curses, and jinxes alike.

Our final class is Potions, held by the ever-moody Professor Snape. Though the class is to be worrisome with such a negative presence ever-looming over our shoulders, I'm sure we'll manage to avoid exploding any cauldrons, melting any tables, and setting anything on fire.

"I'm loving it!" I exclaim. "Though I wish we had someone a little more cheerful to teach Potions. I don't know how much longer I can stand Snape glaring at us all, especially seeing as we've got it with the Slytherins."

"I agree. We've got a double lesson with him and them first up, actually. Did you do the reading last night?"

"I did it while we were in the Common Room with Lavender and Parvati last night. I can't say I found their conversation particularly interesting... Who on earth, apart from those two of course, can talk about the same bloody television show for so long? I was about ready to tear my ears off," I complain.

"At least as a result we got the reading done, so that's all that matters. But I agree again. I couldn't bare listening for too much longer. And what did Lavender say when we asked her and Parvati about what they've read?"

"I read the subtitles on the movies my mum and I watch at home," I smile and laugh as Hermione shakes her head in bewilderment.

"How can someone not enjoy reading? I just can't imagine!"

I laugh along with Hermione before I notice there are many more people within the Great hall than before, and that the mail's here, the latter or observations coming to light after hearing the squawks and flapping of many sets of feathery wings.

I look across from Hermione and myself to see Ron and Harry a few spots down. I tap Hermione's arm and gesture for her to follow me, and so she does, the two of us moving our things next to the boys.

"When did you two get in here?" Ron asks as he notices us finally. "Thought you were still in bed!"

"We've been down here finishing up the studying, you know? For our classes? I suppose you two didn't do the reading for our double lesson with Snape like we did, did you?" Hermione asks.

"There was reading?" Ron replies.

I smile and wave at Harry when he faces me, and he waves in return.

"Good morning, boys. You're late down," I comment.

"Got lost on the way here... again," Ron whines.

"Don't worry," I try to encourage when suddenly Thestral perches himself on my head and drops a letter onto the table before me I pick it up and examine it, to find the handwriting to be Connie's. "I'm sure you'll get the hang of it eventually."

I tear the envelope open and take the parchment from inside, reading over her words carefully.

Dear Little Love,

How are you, dear? I'm so proud that you made it into Gryffindor! Although I knew you would. I was a Gryffindor, after all, as was your mother! She'll be so proud of you, dearie, don't you forget! Anyway, I hope classes are treating you well, and that you've been applying yourself accordingly! Say hello to your new friend Hermione for me! I'm so glad you've made such a lovely-sounding friend so fast!

Good luck and much love,

Gran Evans ~ Mrs. Connie Evans

I smile at the letter and look to Hermione, the girl peering longingly down into her book, obviously revising for our coming classes once again.

"Hermione, I told my friend Connie that I'd met you in my last letter, and she says 'hi'. Just thought you'd like to know," I smile as her eyes find mine.

She smiles back appreciatively.

"Are you writing her back now?"

"Mhmm," I hum as I arrange my parchments, ribbon spool, green ink, and mother's quill.

"Tell her I said hello back, won't you!"

"Of course!" I smile brightly.

Dear Gran Evans,

Thank you so much! I am happy to hear that you are as excited as I am, and I appreciate your words about mum. I'm as sure as you that she'd be just as proud, if not prouder than you say.

Classes have been wonderful, and I've been working my hardest! Alongside Hermione, of course. She says hi back, by the way!

I've made quite a few nice friends in Gryffindor so far. Like Hermione, Ron, and Harry Potter! Did I mention last time that I met Harry on the train? Do you remember mum talking about Lilly and James Potter when I was younger?

Hope you are doing well.

All my love and wishes,

Little Love ~ Miss Y/N Evangeline Amethyst.

"What have we got today?" I hear Harry ask Ron as he pours some sugar on his porridge.

"Double Potions with the Slytherins," Ron groans in return. "Snape's head of Slytherin house. They say he always favours them – we'll be able to see if it's true."

"Wish McGonagall favoured us," Harry sighs.

"What do you mean? McGonagall's lovely," I add in her defense.

"Sure, if you already know everything she's teaching. You two are her favourites. Of course you'd think that!" Ron says in exasperation. I simply shake my head and roll up my letter, tying it neatly with my shimmery, green ribbon, and then hand it off to Thestral.

"To Connie please, Thes," I scratch the birds tummy from where he's stood on my head, and he coo's happily before taking the letter in beak and flying back off out of the Great Hall once again.

"Come on, Y/N," Hermione says suddenly as she snaps her book closed enthusiastically. "We're going to be late if we hang around any longer.

I nod and pack up my things alongside her as she does the same, and then we both head out of the Great Hall and towards our Potions class in the Dungeons.

The Dungeons are dim, and slightly chilly. This part of the castle is under ground of course, and so there's no sun to keep things warm and bright. That's not to say the corridors and classes are dingy. They aren't. In fact, the candles and torches lining the walls give the place a warm glow, if not the warm temperature.

Hermione and I take our seats side by side, just as we do in every class, and await the lessons start by reading. She takes out her Potions book, and I my Fantastic Beasts book, and continue reading through the chapter on Murtlaps where I left off in the Great Hall.

After a few more minutes the rest of the class, first-years from both Gryffindor and Slytherin alike, both fill the rest of the previously empty tables, and finally, Professor Snape begins to take down the register making sure we're all present for his class.

Professor Snape, just as a couple of the other teachers have done, pauses once he reaches Harry's name.

"Ah, yes," he says softly, though not kindly. "Harry Potter. Our new – Celebrity. One of two, anyhow," he sneers as he glares from Harry and then to me.

What can Snape possibly have against me? I haven't even attended one of his classes yet, nor have I spoken to him face to face. He merely knows my name! Just the implication that he dislikes me for no apparent reason has me frowning to the tall and shadow-shrouded man. I also hear Malfoy and his friends snickering nastily from their table within the room.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he begins to drawl slowly as if he's all the time in the world. "As there is little wand waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the scenes... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even put a stopper to death – if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Silence follows his speech, and if Hermione or I had the needles we turned from matches and dropped one, you'd surely hear it rattle against the stone floor and echo through the room loudly.

"Well, he's certainly lovely," I mutter to Hermione quietly, to which earns a nod of understanding and a scowling side-eye from the professor himself.

"Potter!" says Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry turns to look at Ron questioningly, and Hermione's hand shoots into the air.

"I don't know," the boy finally replies. Snape sneers.

"Tut, tut – fame clearly isn't everything. Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione's hand remains present, but he continues to ignore her and the sounds of laughter coming from Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle's table.

"I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter? What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"I don't know," Harry replies quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

"Sit down!" he suddenly shouts at Hermione before turning his angry, empty eyes on me. "What about you, eh, Amethyst? Our other little surprise-of-the-year, back from the dead and all, can you tell me these things? No! Fame is not everything, children-" he starts to inform as he addresses the rest of the class, Harry's eyes catching mine, his sad and my own frustrated and slightly angry.

"Asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is better known as the draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone found in the stomach of a goat and can save you from most poisons, and monkshood and wolfsbane are the same thing, a plant, that also goes by the name aconite.

"I'd appreciate it, Professor Snape, sir, if you wouldn't bully students. I, as well as Harry, I'm sure, have come here to learn from you, not to be told we're insufferable for not knowing our curriculum off by heart before it's even taught. Is it not your job to teach us?"

"Miss Amethyst," Snape responds as his eyes turn hard, uncaring, and nasty. "I expect discipline from my students, not lip! You'll be serving detention after class. You are not to question my teachings, nor speak without raising your hand! A point will also be taken from Gryffindor for that cheek, Amethyst. You, too, Potter."

"To be fair, Professor, you did ask her a question," Hermione backs me up timidly, and I send her a small smile as thanks.

"Would you like detention as well, miss Granger?"

"No, sir..."

"Regardless of Miss Amethyst's lack of respect, she is correct, so have you copied that down?!"

There's a sudden flurry of quills and scratching against parchment as everyone quickly reiterates what I've just informed into their own notes sheets, eyes glued to the tables, and fingers glued to quills.

The rest of the double Potions lesson I remain in my place, as I don't want to anger the professor anymore, no matter how wrong I think his need to bully Harry is, and do my work alongside a hard-working Hermione. Together we practice the given instructions and written formulas for a potion set to cure boils, an easy start, but still an easy one to mess up.

Snape continues to praise his Slytherins – namely Draco Malfoy – and belittle us Gryffindors at every given opportunity. He went on about Draco's perfect stewing of horned slugs, his cauldron hissing loudly and emitting green plumes of smoke from its edges.

Neville somehow managed to mess his potion up so terribly that he melted Seamus' cauldron into a blob and caused their potion to seep through the desk and onto their shoes, melting them as well. Snape was most definitely not happy about that, although it did give him another exemplary moment for belittlement.

"Stupid boy!" he snarled whilst cleaning up the spilled potion. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire? Take him up to the hospital wing!" he then spat an Seamus once Neville's nose started sprouting boils. He then quickly turned to reprimand Harry and Ron. "You – Potter – why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."

As much as I wanted to argue the point that Harry and Ron had nothing to do with Seamus and Neville's table, I've learned my lesson for the day and instead turn to Hermione.

"Poor Neville... and Harry. How was he supposed to know? It isn't his job to look after the others," I complain quietly in a whisper.

"I know, but please, keep quiet. I don't want you getting in any more trouble... Snape obviously doesn't like any of us very much."

I nod and let the lesson continue, and before long its over. Everyone begins packing their things away after cleaning their places, and they're all leaving before Snape speaks again.

"Miss Amethyst! I hope you didn't forget your detention?" he asks with a nasty snarl.

I sigh and turn to my three friends.

"I'll see you guys after, okay? Hermione? Ron? Harry?"

Each of the three nod and wish me luck before I spend the next hour or so cleaning out old Cauldrons and scraping up old messes as instructed by the professor, and once again, before long I've finished my detention and am free to go.

At five to three I run into Harry and Ron as they're seemingly leaving the castle.

"Hello, boys!" I call and smile. "Where are you off to?"

"We're going to see Hagrid," Harry answers. "Do you want to come along? I think you'll like him!"

"Sure! I'm done now anyway, lets go!"

Hagrid lives in a small, wooden and stone hut on the outskirts if the Forbidden Forest. Sitting outside the front door, there's a crossbow and a pair of galoshes. Harry is the one of us to knock, and his knocks are quickly followed up by a loud, thickly-accented, booming and yet jovial voice.

"Back, Fang – back!"

When Hagrid opens the door, I'm met with the same, tall and hairy man that sat with us on the boats when we first entered Hogwarts. I smile to the man as he looks between us all.

"Hang on," he says again. "back, Fang!"

Hagrid lets the three of us in as he struggles to keep a hold on Fang's collar.

Fang in an enormous, black boarhound, and I'm instantly drawn to him, as I am most creatures. Well, except for Ron's rat Scabbers, who I find to be rather annoying. He brought him down to the Great Hall during dinner one night this week, and the little thing got himself in the gravy. Neville was certainly surprised when he'd ladled him out.