Life at Hogwarts was simply blissful for some. It was a place where you could spend an entire class trying to cast a spell and get nothing but a pathetic fizzle, yet still glide through certain subjects with absolute ease.
Herbology and Potions, for instance, were practically made for Dudley. There wasn't a question he couldn't answer, a plant he didn't recognize, or a potion he couldn't brew. As for History of Magic, he was a natural, a fountain of endless knowledge. Even Professor Binns, who was so forgetful he usually couldn't remember his own name, now called Dudley by his. On days with those classes, Dudley earned more points than Hermione did in a whole week. The "know-it-all" was getting a bit of a reality check.
Of course, while Dudley's theoretical knowledge was vast, there were still a couple of subjects he couldn't stand. Charms and Transfiguration were a nightmare. Flying class was a hobby, a side interest with no final exam, so it was hardly a concern. Some wizards just couldn't get the hang of it.
But Charms and Transfiguration required more than just knowing the theory; they demanded practical application. You actually had to use your wand! This was especially true in Professor McGonagall's class. The head of Gryffindor was known for being strict and fair, and she'd dock points from anyone who messed up, even if they were from her own house.
Harry had just finished his morning workout and was changing into his robes to head to class with Ron when they ran into Peeves, the poltergeist. The mischievous ghost led them down the wrong staircase, and by the time they got to Transfiguration, class had already begun.
"Good thing Professor McGonagall isn't here yet," Ron whispered, relieved to see all the students seated neatly and the podium empty. He grabbed Harry and started looking for a place to sit. Neither of them noticed how eerily quiet the room was, with every single student sitting bolt upright in their chairs.
Today's lesson was a big one, with students from all four houses gathered in the same classroom. The room was packed, with only two seats left open right in the very front row. The two of them headed straight for them.
"Hey, Harry, look at that," Ron said as Harry pulled out his chair. Harry followed Ron's gaze and froze.
Perched on the desk at the front of the room was a cat, a tabby, to be precise. Harry felt like he'd seen this cat before, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember where.
"Who's a pretty little kitty?" Ron cooed, imitating how Dudley had teased Mrs. Norris before, and tried to pet the tabby. The cat nimbly dodged his hand. Ron giggled and pulled a few wrinkled, dried fish from his pocket. He waved them in front of the tabby, which he'd been saving to try and bribe Mrs. Norris with. It hadn't worked.
Dudley saw the fish in Ron's hand and a thought popped into his head: *Salty, low-quality dried fish. (Not even a dog would eat it.)*
Ron didn't seem to notice the strange looks the other students were giving him. Only Harry suddenly realized what was going on. He turned his head to look for Dudley, and saw him give a slight nod. Dudley, a certifiable cat person, was sitting perfectly still and hadn't tried to pet the cat once. Now, why would that be?
A wave of dread washed over Harry. He remembered now! He'd seen this cat before—it was Professor McGonagall in her Animagus form! But it was too late to stop Ron. He'd already offered the fish to the cat.
Perhaps she couldn't take it anymore, or maybe she was afraid she'd actually be tempted by the fish. In a flash of magical energy, the tabby transformed back into Professor McGonagall. Ron froze.
"Well, class. I've just demonstrated the Animagus transformation for you," Professor McGonagall said, her face expressionless. "It's a very advanced form of Transfiguration that you may be able to try yourselves someday… once you've scored an Outstanding on your O.W.L.s, that is."
Ron couldn't even look at her. It was a complete public humiliation.
"Two points from Gryffindor for being late. I suggest you find your seats instead of standing there daydreaming, and thank you for the fish, Mr. Weasley, but I suggest you throw it away. It's not fresh."
The room erupted in laughter. Ron's face turned a shade of red even brighter than his hair. He wanted to disappear. It was just... too awful. But unfortunately for him, his bad luck had only just begun.
His earlier actions had made him Professor McGonagall's special project for the day. And everyone knew what that meant.
Today's lesson was on turning a wooden matchstick into a needle. Hermione, ever the star student, was the first to get it right. With a series of perfect, textbook-level incantations and wand movements, one end of her matchstick became sharp and metallic.
"Perfect. Two points to Gryffindor," Professor McGonagall said. Hermione finally allowed herself a small smile, and turned her attention to her Transfiguration textbook, which was yellowed with age.
While Professor McGonagall was admiring Hermione's work, Dudley quietly used one hand to hold his matchstick and the other to snap it. He had a toothpick.
Professor McGonagall walked over to Dudley and nodded. "Not bad. One point to Slytherin." He couldn't make the wood turn to metal, but the shape was close enough. He called it the "physical Transfiguration charm."
The other students were all waving their wands at their matchsticks. After observing a few of them, Professor McGonagall quietly went to stand behind Ron. He could feel her intense gaze on his back. The pressure was enormous.
With a smile that looked more like a grimace, Ron pulled out his wand. It was old and chipped, and a bit of unicorn hair was peeking out from the end. It was his older brother Charlie's. The Weasleys had so many kids that money was always tight. Mrs. Weasley didn't think it was necessary to spend seven Galleons on a new wand for Ron. What was wrong with an old one? It still worked, didn't it?
The problem was, a wand that doesn't choose you is incredibly difficult to use. Sometimes, Ron's wand would cast the wrong spells. He'd try to use the Disarming Charm, and it would cast the Severing Charm instead. This time was no different. As he pointed his wand at the matchstick, it didn't turn into a needle at all. Instead, it made a sputtering sound, like it was... well, like it was making a rude noise.
The other students couldn't hold it in. Despite Professor McGonagall's presence, the room filled with uproarious laughter. Ron's face turned even redder, a more vibrant shade than his hair.
"What? Harry, you mean you knew that was Professor McGonagall? Why didn't you tell me?" Ron grumbled to Harry after class.
He'd never felt so embarrassed, and to be humiliated in front of all four houses... he was pretty sure he'd never get a date now.
"I tried to tell you, but you were already gone!" Harry said, shrugging as he packed his bag. "You just moved too fast."
"Right, Harry. What's our next class?"
Thankfully, Ron was a chap with a short memory when it came to embarrassment. The bad mood passed as quickly as it came, and he immediately forgot all about it. Why stew over a bit of humiliation when he could think about how many sausages he'd eat for lunch? He was at a growing age, after all.
Harry glanced at the timetable. "Potions, and we have it with the Slytherins."
"Oh, no!" Ron groaned again.
Potions was a dreaded class for most of the Gryffindors. It wasn't an exaggeration to call it pure torture. Aside from Hermione, not a single Gryffindor had escaped being on the receiving end of a Snape rant. Seamus and Neville, in particular, were the usual targets. They were often paired up, and though Seamus usually botched things up, it was always Neville who ended up with the stinging hexes and the earful.
It was almost as if Gryffindors were naturally terrible at Potions.
And in a way, they were. Most Gryffindors were active, energetic, and impulsive by nature. But Potions required a steady hand and a calm mind—things very few Gryffindors possessed. This led to Gryffindor's Potion skills being at the bottom of the pile among the four houses.
Why "almost at the bottom"?
Because Hermione's skills alone were enough to raise the house average to Hufflepuff levels.
Of course, the fact that Professor Snape was the teacher also played a part. While his criticisms were often correct, his delivery was too harsh and sarcastic. Or, as Ron would put it, he was just plain rude.
This caused a lot of Gryffindors to resent him, and they'd secretly given him the nickname "The Greasy Bat" to poke fun at his perpetually slicked-back hair.
"Don't worry," Harry whispered to Ron, pulling out something from his bag. "I've got something for you. It's brilliant. I guarantee it'll make your Potions grade soar."
Ron's interest was piqued, but no matter how much he pestered, Harry wouldn't say another word.
It was the same cold, damp dungeon, and the same terrifying Professor Snape.
After a single glance from Snape, Ron shivered, and all his hopes of a good day vanished. Now he just wanted the next four hours to be over.
"Hey, Harry. What are all these?"
Ron watched as Harry pulled out a set of tools he'd never seen before and laid them out on the desk.
"New Potions equipment," Harry said offhandedly, already starting to assemble them.
"Professor Snape told us to buy new equipment? I didn't know anything about that," Ron said, stunned.
Being from a poor wizarding family, Ron knew that money was tight. He understood the consequences of not having much, so he rarely asked his parents for things and never wanted to be a burden. He'd never had toys growing up—his childhood was spent with the garden gnomes and the ghoul in the attic. His robes, shoes, and even his books and wand were all hand-me-downs from his older brothers.
He'd complain sometimes, but he never made a fuss or fought for new things, even when his brothers or sister got them. Most of the time, he just looked on with envy. But sometimes, in the back of his mind, he desperately wished he could have something new. This was why he always felt a little insecure around wealthy kids like Malfoy.
On the train, if it hadn't been for Harry and Dudley standing up for him, he would have just swallowed Malfoy's insults. He never wanted to cause trouble for his family.
If Snape really had told them to buy new equipment, it would be another expense for his family. Just looking at the tools on the table, it was obvious they weren't cheap.
"These must be expensive, right?" Ron whispered, "Why would Professor Snape suddenly make us buy this stuff? Percy never mentioned it."
With so many children, if everyone needed a new set... he couldn't imagine the hardship it would cause.
Harry paused and quickly explained. "No, no, Professor Snape didn't tell us to buy these. My cousin Dudley got them for us."
He then pushed a fully assembled set of equipment toward Ron. "This one's yours."
Dudley had prepared several sets of these tools before coming to Hogwarts. The reason Harry was only bringing them out now was that Dudley had only recently gotten permission from Professor Snape to use them in class. The catch was that every other student could use them, but he couldn't.
So Dudley had given the sets away. One for Harry, one for Hermione, one for Ron, one for Malfoy, and one for Neville. Yes, Neville. Dudley hadn't forgotten the talented, though clumsy, young wizard.
Snape's demands on Dudley were almost ridiculously harsh. But it also showed how much he valued Dudley's abilities. He was genuinely teaching him as if he were his true heir.
And Dudley had not disappointed. He really did have a talent for Potions. Though Snape always found something to criticize, in truth, he was more than pleased. Not even the most brilliant students at Hogwarts could do better. He was the perfect mix of his mother, Lily, and himself.
"Dudley?"
Even though Dudley was a Slytherin, Ron still trusted Harry's cousin. After their little night escapade at Hogwarts, his admiration had only grown, which was why he always kept some dried fish in his pocket. Dudley was the only Slytherin Ron didn't have a bad feeling about, though he still felt a bit intimidated by him.
Ron glanced over at Dudley, who wasn't using any of the tools. Did he give me his? Ron felt a wave of gratitude.
"Ron, I need you to help me with something in a minute."
"What is it?"
"Just like this... and then this... and then like that..." Harry whispered.
"No problem! You can count on me!" Ron said, thumping his chest.
"I'll show you how to use these," Harry said, and he began to instruct Ron.
They weren't complicated. Ron quickly understood the purpose of each tool and was amazed by how easy they made everything.
It was just then that Snape began to lecture on the day's main task: brewing a Burn-Healing Paste. It was a common first-year potion, a bit harder than the Boil Cure Potion.
After successfully brewing a batch with the new tools, Ron's eyes lit up. This equipment... it was brilliant!
Mum will never have to worry about me failing Potions again.
I really love all these characters: Hermione, Harry, Neville, Ron, and Malfoy.
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