Begotten

Moriah shared a dormitory with four other girls. There was Sheila, Pansy, and Millicent along with a girl with honey brown hair who looked to have had her big growth spurt already. All bones and quite lanky, her name was Jasmine. She didn’t talk much but seemed nice enough.

All of the girls got ready for bed, full and happy from the feast. Pansy was prattling on about the blond boy, and Sheila and Moriah exchanged looks of amusement.

“He’s a Malfoy, very posh family, very wealthy.” It went on and on until all the lights were out.

Moriah wanted to get a good night’s sleep before classes the next day, but her mind was so full of questions. Harry Potter, You-Know-Who, the killing curse, dark blood—everything in this world was so strange.

The next morning, breakfast was served, appearing mysteriously on the tables. The first year Slytherins had Transfiguration first, and Moriah was eager to see just what she could do with her wand. She walked with Sheila up the moving staircases, something that she would not be getting used to any time soon.

The tall, severe witch from the night before was the professor, Professor McGonagall, and she greeted the class in a strict manner. First year Hufflepuffs were also there, all on one side of the room so that the Slytherins could occupy the rest. Moriah ended up next to the Malfoy boy, sitting quietly as Professor McGonagall began to speak.

“This class period will be mostly theory and note taking, but there will be time at the end of class to practice simple transfiguration. To begin, transfiguration is a branch of magic that focuses on the alteration of the form or appearance of an object, via the alteration of the object’s molecular structure.”

Most of the students stared at the witch open-mouthed. “Well, come on, write it down!” She commanded, snapping all of the first years out of their dazed states.

Moriah grabbed parchment and her quill, idly wondering why a pencil wasn’t sufficient.

The lesson did indeed consist of note taking, but McGonagall also demonstrated several times, turning her hair a different color, a button into a bug, and a toad into a dinner plate.

At the end, she gave them a simple spell to make their fingernails grow longer and let them practice, becoming very impressed with Moriah when she succeeded on her first attempt.

“Very nice, very nice. They’re even manicured,” the professor laughed. Moriah just stared down at her pointed nails in awe, looking up only when a Hufflepuff boy screamed, holding up long, curled talon-like fingernails.

With a swish of her wand, McGonagall corrected his mistake and the boy let out a sigh of relief.

“How did you do that?” Malfoy asked from beside her, his voice holding an accusatory tone, as if she’d wronged him.

The blonde girl shrugged. “I just focused on what I was trying to do, said the incantation, and did what Professor McGonagall showed us to do with our wands.”

“Right.” Malfoy tried it a few more times until his nails grew out, long and yellow, like some kind of beasts.

They shared Charms with Ravenclaw, and tiny Professor Flitwick showed them various enchantments, flicking his wand here and there, making objects float and rain fall from the ceiling before charming all of their robes dry. It was fascinating. All of them practiced waving their wands correctly with the promise of more hands on learning during their next lesson.

“Can’t wait for Potions,” Malfoy said as they made their way down to the dungeons for their last class of the day. “Professor Snape is known throughout the UK as one of the best potion brewers. And, he’s a family friend.”

This time, the room was shared with Gryffindor, all of whom glared as they Slytherins walked in.

I guess I know where the rivalry lies, Moriah thought.

She sat next to Sheila, opening her textbook and taking out more parchment for notes.

Snape seemed to simply emerge out of the shadows. Sauntering over to his desk, he began to take roll call stopping only when he read of Harry Potter’s name. “Our new—celebrity.” Many of the Slytherins snickered, whispering among one another, but Moriah just gazed at the black-haired boy who stared straight at the potions master, not backing down. It was admirable considering how scary the man was. With long black hair and sallow skin, he could have passed as a vampire. Moriah was less than thrilled to have him as both a teacher and the head of her house.

“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish 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,” he spoke about it softly, caressing the subject with his very words. “—the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”

Moriah was basically trembling in her seat by the time he was done talking. She seemed to be good with her wand, but this was basically chemistry. The subject itself was daunting. Throw in a frightening teacher, and it seemed nearly impossible.

Nobody noticed her terrified state, however, since Professor Snape called on Harry Potter again. “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

What?

Hermione Granger’s hand shot up, but she wasn’t called on.

“I don’t know, sir,” Harry answered, resulting in a nasty sneer from the bat-like man in front of him.

“Tut, tut—fame clearly isn’t everything.” Again, the class snickered. “Let’s try again. Potter, where would you look of I told you to find me a bezoar?”

Malfoy and two large boys were having trouble concealing their laughter, and it made Moriah want to turn around and scold them. It wasn’t like they knew any better.

“I don’t know, sir.”

“Thought you wouldn’t open a book before coming, eh, Potter?” Every time the professor said his name, it sounded like he just spit it out. “What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

Granger was still waving her hand in the air, but it went unnoticed.

Moriah could see the Gryffindor press his lips together before answering, “I don’t know, sir. I think Hermione does, though, why don’t you try her?”

Most of the other Gryffindors laughed, and Moriah hid a smile, wishing she could pat the boy on the back. It was unfair to demand so much of a first year boy.

Snape went into a long tangent, answering all of the questions he had asked, and most of the students went into a frenzy trying to write it all down.

The rest of the class was just as interesting, though not much better. Professor Snape had them brewing a simple potion to cure boils, but nobody was having much luck. One of the Gryffindor boys even had his potion explode, coating another in the liquid so that he fell over with angry red sores all over him.

Snape scolded both of them before dismissing the class, and Moriah felt tension leave her shoulders as she walked out of the cold room.

“I know he’s our head of house and everything,” Moriah leaned over to Sheila, “but you’ve got to admit that Snape is a bit creepy.”

“Oh, absolutely, but he’s the best brewer around.”