Chapter Eight

Disclaimer: Except for Robert, everything here belongs to J. K. Rowling.

Acknowledgements: Without notsosaintly and Dark Beta, none of this would have been possible. Love ya' both!

Scene: About ten seconds after the last chapter ended. The six look at each other.

Xiomara: One more chapter?

Minerva: (looks uneasily at her textbook) Well...

Robert: Minna, I think you're far enough ahead that you can take that much time off.

Pomona: I want to know how Harry's first day of class goes!

Filius: And I need some elocution practice. Which means, I'd like to read, if nobody minds.

(Xiomara hands Filius the book.)

Filius: Chapter Eight - The Potions Master.

"There, look..."

"Where?"

Robert: There!

Minerva: Where?

Pomona: Here?

Filius: How?

Xiomara: What?

Alastor: (suspiciously) Who?

"Next to the tall kid with the red hair."

Minerva: Ah, Ron's become a landmark. None of his brothers achieved that!

"Wearing the glasses?"

Pomona: The kid with the red hair?

"Did you see his face?"

"Did you see his scar?"

Xiomara: Did you see his...

(Predictably, Pomona puts a hand over Xiomara's mouth.)

Whispers followed Harry from the moment he left his dormitory the next day. People lining up outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at him, or doubled back to pass him in the corridors again, staring. Harry wished they wouldn't, because he was trying to concentrate on finding his way to classes.

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts:

Minerva: That's not true, there are only a hundred and twenty-seven!

Robert: Sounds like there's some remodeling due in the next few decades.

wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump.

Pomona: Halfway up the stairs

Isn't up,

And isn't down.

It isn't in the nursery,

And it isn't in the town.

And all sorts of funny thoughts

Run round my head:

"It isn't really

Anywhere!

It's somewhere else

Instead!"

Filius: Another quote from that Milne chap?

Pomona: You're learning!

Filius: I was a little worried about you when we went through the whole last chapter and you didn't quote him even once.

Pomona: (sheepishly) I couldn't come up with anything.

Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely,

Minerva: An excellent teaching device.

or tickled them in exactly the right place,

Xiomara: Another excellent teaching device.

Pomona: Xia!

and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending.

Xiomara: (deep sigh) I always dreamed of being a door, but for a young wall from a poor background, there weren't many openings.

Filius: In the end, she became a little unhinged.

It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Harry was sure the coats of armor could walk.

Minerva: The Armor of Sir Belthanor walked into the Great Hall once.

Robert: Yes, but you were wearing it at the time.

The ghosts didn't help, either.

Minerva: Oh, I've known them to.

It was always a nasty shock when one of them glided suddenly through a door you were trying to open.

Alastor: It's a nastier shock when one of them glides suddenly through you!

Nearly Headless Nick was always happy to point new Gryffindors in the right direction,

Minerva: See?

but Peeves the Poltergeist was worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if you met him when you were late for class. He would drop wastepaper baskets on your head, pull rugs from under your feet, pelt you with bits of chalk, or sneak up behind you, invisible, grab your nose, and screech, "GOT YOUR CONK!"

Xiomara: Just grab a couple of feet lower and yell "GOT YOUR YONK!"

Filius: "Yonk"? Is that really a word?

Xiomara: No, but he'll understand it from the context. Besides, it sounds just enough like "yank" it ought to throw a scare into him!

Pomona: Peeves is afraid of Americans?

Even worse than Peeves, if that was possible, was the caretaker, Argus Filch.

Robert: He can't be worse than old Pringle!

Harry and Ron managed to get on the wrong side of him on their very first morning.

Filch found them trying to force their way through a door that unluckily turned out to be the entrance to the out-of-bounds corridor on the third floor. He wouldn't believe they were lost, was sure they were trying to break into it on purpose,

Filius: Good heavens, Al, he's more paranoid than you are!

Alastor: (ruefully) I try harder.

and was threatening to lock them in the dungeons when they were rescued by Professor Quirrell, who was passing.

Alastor: Interesting timing.

Filch owned a cat called Mrs. Norris,

Robert: AHEM! What was I saying about that, earlier?

a scrawny, dust-colored creature with bulging, lamp like eyes just like Filch's. She patrolled the corridors alone. Break a rule in front of her, put just one toe out of line, and she'd whisk off for Filch, who'd appear, wheezing,

Robert: See, he's not so bad – he likes a good "wheeze" as well as anyone!

two seconds later. Filch knew the secret passageways of the school better than anyone (except perhaps the Weasley twins) and could pop up as suddenly as any of the ghosts. The students all hated him, and it was the dearest ambition of many to give Mrs. Norris a good kick.

Robert: Oh, now that's uncalled for!

Alastor: Makes you realize how useful an Animagus spy would be.

Minerva: (looks thoughtful)

And then, once you had managed to find them, there were the classes themselves. There was a lot more to magic, as Harry quickly found out, than waving your wand and saying a few funny words.

Filius: There is nothing funny about the True Speech!

Robert: This coming from the most whimsical little chap on the planet!

They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout,

Pomona: What?

where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for.

Pomona: Oh, good! Well, all except the "dumpy" part.

Easily the most boring class was

All: History of Magic!

History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost.

Xiomara: What? Well that's new!

Professor Binns

Robert: Oh, Merlin!

Filius: As we said, some things are eternal!

had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him.

Pomona: You'd think dying would be enough to make him take a sabbatical, at least!

Minerva: Do you think we should suggest it to him?

Robert: Um... I don't know, Minna. "Excuse me, sir, but we think it would be a good idea for you to stop teaching after you die." If you can think of a way to say that without sounding rude, let me know!

Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates, and got Emeric the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up.

Robert: How could you mix up Uric the Oddball with anyone else?

Minerva: Put it this way, if I had to ask one of them to mind my sisters for an afternoon, I'd definitely go with Uric!

Alastor: If your sisters are much like you, lassie, Emeric might deserve them!

Robert: Hey, I was going to say that!

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard

Filius: Huzzah!

who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their first class he took the roll call, and when he reached Harry's name he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight.

Filius: Now that's the way to hold the class's attention!

Professor McGonagall was again different.

Robert: Pay attention, Minna!

Harry had been quite right to think she wasn't a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said.

Minerva: Well, she has that right!

"Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Filius: Where do they go?

Alastor: You don't want to know.

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again.

Xiomara: So Dudley got a brief glimpse of Hogwarts?

Pomona: Oh, that's cruel!

They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle.

Minerva: Remember the first time I thought I'd done that successfully?

Robert: And you tried to use the needle to mend a tear in your robes...

Minerva: ...and it set them on fire!

By the end of the lesson, only Hermione Granger had made any difference to her match; Professor McGonagall showed the class how it had gone all silver and pointy and gave Hermione a rare smile.

Pomona: Did she also purr?

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke.

Alastor: They won't be laughing when they face Dark curses and find they're unprepared.

His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they believed this story. For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather;

Xiomara: That's because he stood there and stuttered at it until it went back to its grave out of sheer embarrassment!

for another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban,

Pomona: Dear Emily Post, How do you tell your teacher tactfully that his turban needs washing?

Xiomara: Who is Emily Post?

Pomona: Oh, she's what Muggles have instead of the Manners Witch.

and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went.

Xiomara: He'll be protected from a lot more than just vampires!

Minerva: I know! The only dates he'll ever get will be with girls who want to be Italian chefs!

Harry was very relieved to find out that he wasn't miles behind everyone else. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and, like him, hadn't had any idea that they were witches and wizards. There was so much to learn that even people like Ron didn't have much of a head start.

Robert: A head above, but not a head ahead.

Minerva: (Winces)

Friday was an important day for Harry and Ron. They finally managed to find their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost once.

Robert: No, they got lost three times. But that's different.

"What have we got today?" Harry asked Ron

Pomona: It's usually porridge on Fridays, isn't it?

as he poured sugar on his porridge.

"Double Potions with the Slytherins,"

Pomona: Oh. Classes.

said Ron. "Snape's Head of Slytherin House. They say he always favors them – we'll be able to see if it's true."

"Wish McGonagall favored us," said Harry. Professor McGonagall was head of Gryffindor House, but it hadn't stopped her from giving them a huge pile of homework the day before.

Minerva: What makes you think she doesn't favor you? She's obviously going all out to teach you everything she can!

Robert: Minna, only you would think that extra homework qualified as favoritism!

Just then, the mail arrived. Harry had gotten used to this by now, but it had given him a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners, and dropping letters and packages onto their laps.

Pomona: I remember what that's like! I used to drape my napkin over my breakfast, just to be safe!

Hedwig hadn't brought Harry anything so far. She sometimes flew in to nibble his ear and have a bit of toast before going off to sleep in the owlery with the other school owls.

Minerva: Toast? Is he trying to make her sick? That's not proper food for a raptor!

Robert: I expect it's just to distract her from Scabbers.

This morning, however, she fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a note onto Harry's plate. Harry tore it open at once. It said, in a very untidy scrawl:

Dear Harry,

I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three? I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig.

Hagrid

Alastor: "Us"? Harry'd better watch out he's not outnumbered.

Robert: I expect Hagrid was including the animals.

Harry borrowed Ron's quill, scribbled Yes, please, see you later on the back of the note, and sent Hedwig off again.

It was lucky that Harry had tea with Hagrid to look forward to, because the Potions lesson turned out to be the worst thing that had happened to him so far.

Filius: Worse than ten years with the Dursleys?

Minerva: Worse than sleeping in a cupboard?

Alastor: Worse than almost being killed by a powerful Dark wizard?

Pomona: Worse than Mrs. Figg's chocolate cake?

At the start-of-term banquet, Harry had gotten the idea that Professor Snape disliked him. By the end of the first Potions lesson, he knew he'd been wrong.

Pomona: Well that's a relief.

Snape didn't dislike Harry – he hated him.

Filius: Uh-oh.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Pomona: Tsk. Giving alcohol to poor little animals.

Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name.

"Ah, yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new – celebrity. "

Filius: And then fell off his desk?

Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands.

Filius: It must be nice to have such a willing audience.

Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word – like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort.

"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic.

Pomona: I've wondered about that. With the right ingredients and instruction and everything, could a Muggle learn to make potions?

Filius: I read something about that once. No one seems to be sure. Every now and then someone suggests finding a Muggle who already knows about our world and giving them everything they need to brew something and trying the experiment, but somehow it never happens. Personally, I think it always falls through because people are afraid to find out what Muggles can do!

Alastor: They should be afraid not to find out! Ignorance is dangerous!

Others: We know. You've told us.

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 senses...

Xiomara: And then he seized his cauldron and began kissing it passionately!

Alastor: I'd want to know what was in that cauldron!

Robert: No, you wouldn't.

I can teach you how to bottle fame,

Filius: Good morning, can I purchase a six-ounce bottle of Fame to go, please?

brew glory, even stopper death – if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Minerva: Well, that's charming!

Flitwick: If he's going to be a colleague of ours, maybe we should have a talk with him about motivating the students properly.

More silence followed this little speech. Harry and Ron exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead.

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

Minerva: The Draught of the Living Death, of course!

Powdered root of what to an infusion of what?

Harry glanced at Ron, who looked as stumped as he was; Hermione's hand had shot into the air.

Minerva: Well done, that girl!

"I don't know, sir," said Harry.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

Pomona: ... thanks to the curling papers he puts on after his bath on Saturday.

"Tut, tut – fame clearly isn't everything."

Filius: Hmm, do I detect a note of envy here?

He ignored Hermione's hand.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Xiomara: Well, first you bend over...

Pomona: (warningly) Xia...!

Xiomara: ...and cut the goat open...

Robert: Just make sure it's not Dumbles' sister-in-law before you cut!

Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat, but Harry didn't have the faintest idea what a bezoar was. He tried not to look at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were shaking with laughter.

"I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

Harry forced himself to keep looking straight into those cold eyes.

Minerva: He's a Gryffindor, all right!

He had looked through his books at the Dursleys', but did Snape expect him to remember everything in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi?

Snape was still ignoring Hermione's quivering hand.

Minerva: I hate it when a teacher does that!

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Alastor: That's a trick question, lad.

Minerva: Try giving the girl a chance to answer, you greasy-haired donkey! Let me tell you, if I really do end up working with this man, he's going to get a large piece of my mind! Frequently!

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling.

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

Minerva/Xiomara/Pomona: WELL SAID, HARRY!!!

A few people laughed; Harry caught Seamus' eye, and Seamus winked. Snape, however, was not pleased.

"Sit down," he snapped at Hermione.

Robert: Sit down yourself!

Minerva: Preferably on a bee!

"For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons.

Pomona: Mind you, it didn't save the goat from being cut open.

Robert: That wasn't done with poison.

As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

Robert: We're too busy watching the Duel-of-the-Eyes!

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter."

Filius: Does that mean he should turn the other one?

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils.

He swept around in his long black cloak,

Xiomara: Sounds like an overgrown bat!

Alastor: Ah, so that's who Quirrell's worried about!

watching them weigh dried nettles and crushed snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like.

Xiomara: Bad hygiene, bad temper and now bad taste!

He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus' cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes.

Filius: Uh-oh, I bet he added the porcupine quills before he took the cauldron off the fire.

Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Filius: See?

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

Minerva: (ruefully) Sounds like how I spent most of my Third Year!

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville.

Pomona: Well, at least he can't blame this one on Harry!

"You – Potter –

Pomona: Uh-oh...

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."

Minerva: Oh now that's inexcusable!

This was so unfair that Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Ron kicked him behind their cauldron.

Xiomara: Kicked him in the cauldron?

Robert: Somebody should kick Snape in the cauldron!

"Don't push it," he muttered, "I've heard Snape can turn very nasty."

Robert: He's already turned!

As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, Harry's mind was racing and his spirits were low. He'd lost two points for Gryffindor in his very first week – why did Snape hate him so much?

Alastor: Dark secrets to be revealed...

"Cheer up," said Ron, "Snape's always taking points off Fred and George. Can I come and meet Hagrid with you?"

Alastor: Better than no one if Harry needs someone to watch his back.

Pomona: You still don't trust Hagrid, Al?

At five to three they left the castle and made their way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door.

Pomona: John had Great Big Waterproof Boots on;

John had a Great Big Waterproof Hat;

John had a Great Big Waterproof Mackintosh –

And that (said John) Is That.

There, two in one chapter! It averages out!

Filius: Well done, Mona!

When Harry knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "Back, Fang – back."

Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.

"Hang on," he said. "Back, Fang."

Pomona: There's no such thing as a back fang. Fangs grow toward the front. It's all molars in back.

He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound.

Robert: Now if only he'd set Fang on Binns!

Minerva: That's "really big pig" boarhound, Robbie, not "a few words before we eat" bore-hound.

Robert: All right, set him on Dudley.

There was only one room inside.

Pomona: Um...

Robert: Don't ask, Mona.

Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.

"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid,

Filius: We can make room on the ceiling.

Xiomara: (as Hagrid) Sorry, Harry, din't have time to lay in the spiders.

letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Ron and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked.

Alastor: That's what they want you to think.

"This is Ron," Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate.

Xiomara: Guess what family he comes from?

"Another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, glancing at Ron's freckles. "I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest."

Minerva: The twins have been in at Hogwarts, what, five years?

Alastor: So Hagrid's only ten? That'd bear some checking into if I had my way.

The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth,

Minerva: Rock cakes that really live up to their name!

but Harry and Ron pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about their first lessons. Fang rested his head on Harry's knee and drooled all over his robes.

Xiomara: Sounds like my last date!

Harry and Ron were delighted to hear Hagrid call Filch "that old git."

"An' as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris,

Robert: Did he say "as fur that cat"?

I'd like ter introduce her to Fang sometime.

Pomona: They'd make such a cute couple!

D'yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere?

Can't get rid of her – Filch puts her up to it."

Minerva: Filch, nothing! She's after the dormice in his pockets!

Harry told Hagrid about Snape's lesson. Hagrid, like Ron, told Harry not to worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the students.

Pomona: This Snape fellow needs a cheering charm!

Minerva: This Snape fellow needs a kick in the...

Robert: I thought we'd already established that!

"But he seemed to really hate me."

"Rubbish!" said Hagrid. "Why should he?"

Yet Harry couldn't help thinking that Hagrid didn't quite meet his eyes when he said that.

Alastor: That gives too much away. A really accomplished liar can look you right in the eye while he's handing you a load of dragon dung!

"How's yer brother Charlie?" Hagrid asked Ron.

Xiomara: Speaking of dragon dung...

"I liked him a lot – great with animals."

Harry wondered if Hagrid had changed the subject on purpose.

Alastor: Next time you have tea with Hagrid, slip him some Veritaserum!

While Ron told Hagrid all about Charlie's work with dragons, Harry picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy.

Alastor: Well, snooping is also useful.

It was a cutting from the Daily Prophet:

GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST

Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown.

Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.

"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.

Alastor: That's a goblin, all right!

Harry remembered Ron telling him on the train that someone had tried to rob Gringotts, but Ron hadn't mentioned the date.

"Hagrid!" said Harry, "that Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!"

Pomona: (as Harry) They were trying to steal my cake!

Filius: The fiends!

There was no doubt about it, Hagrid definitely didn't meet Harry's eyes this time. He grunted and offered him another rock cake. Harry read the story again. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that same day. Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred and thirteen, if you could call it emptying, taking out that grubby little package.

Minerva: Well, when he took it out, the vault was empty, wasn't it?

Had that been what the thieves were looking for?

As Harry and Ron walked back to the castle for dinner, their pockets weighed down with rock cakes they'd been too polite to refuse,

Filius: Don't go swimming!

Harry thought that none of the lessons he'd had so far had given him as much to think about as tea with Hagrid. Had Hagrid collected that package just in time?

Alastor: And how did he know? Did he have inside information?

Where was it now?

Robert: Hidden in Hagrid's beard!

Alastor: The last place anyone would look!

And did Hagrid know something about Snape that he didn't want to tell Harry?

Alastor: Well, that's bloody obvious. The question is, what?

Filius: And we come to the end of Chapter Eight.

Minerva: And I've really got to get back to this report.

(General grumbles of reluctant agreement. Filius tucks the book into his bag as all six go back to their various texts and charts.)