Before Friday’s Potions class, Hylan still had a few other lessons to get through.
First was Charms with Professor Flitwick.
The head of Ravenclaw was a tiny wizard, barely reaching Dumbledore’s waist.
Everyone suspected he had some goblin blood.
His voice came out in a squeak, but he was a genuine Charms master.
A former dueling champion, too.
Honestly, a wizard of his caliber was someone most young witches and wizards would never find outside Hogwarts.
And even if they did, they’d be lucky to get the kind of hands-on teaching Flitwick gave.
He even kept tiny, delicate cupcakes in his desk drawer and charmed them to dance for students who were feeling down.
Teachers like that were rare.
The first Charms lesson covered the Wand-Lighting Charm.
The incantation was “Lumos.”
Simple as it was, the spell wasn’t actually invented until the eighteenth century.
But because it was so easy, any wizard with a wand and a voice could cast it.
In earlier times, it was even used to distinguish wizards from Squibs, with nearly perfect accuracy.
If you couldn’t learn Lumos, you simply weren’t a wizard.
The spell saw constant use.
The famous magizoologist Newt Scamander once lit his wand in Nicolas Flamel’s house to examine Yusuf Kama’s eye and extract a water-dragon parasite.
Flitwick understood that learning needed positive feedback to build momentum.
Let a young witch or wizard cast one small spell successfully, and the thrill of it would pull them deeper into the study of Charms.
That was why he’d chosen Lumos for the first lesson.
Unfortunately, Hylan had already mastered it.
He kept flipping through the spellbook he’d borrowed from the library, working on others.
After Charms came Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Or, as some called it, the Annual Disposable Professor course.
This year’s instructor was Professor Quirrell, a Ravenclaw alumnus.
He’d previously taught Muggle Studies before Dumbledore drafted him into this position.
“G-g-good morning, class… let’s begin.
T-t-today we will be covering…”
Quirrell’s stammering delivery filled the room with barely suppressed glee.
Students pointed and whispered, bursting into laughter every few minutes.
Malfoy laughed the loudest.
The lesson was dead boring.
Quirrell simply read from the textbook in that halting voice, and no one paid him any real attention.
They all just messed around on their own.
Hylan thought to himself that if Quirrell would just unwrap his turban and bring Voldemort out for a stroll, these chattering first-years would be terrified into silence.
Honestly, Hylan found it a shame.
Quirrell had been a top student in Ravenclaw, genuinely knowledgeable.
Now he’d been reduced to a timid professor who could only read aloud from a book.
A lot of learning opportunities were going to waste.
If I went to Quirrell privately, would the old V-man take over?
Hylan wondered.
For some reason, Voldemort, a master of the Dark Arts, had an almost obsessive fixation on teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts.
He’d been so furious when Dumbledore refused him the post that he cursed the job itself, a curse even Dumbledore couldn’t break.
Hylan didn’t care who taught it.
Quirrell, Voldemort, it made no difference.
Knowledge and power weren’t good or evil by themselves.
It all came down to how you used them.
And learning from Voldemort was the best way to fight Voldemort.
Learn from the enemy to defeat the enemy.
But he kept that thought to himself.
After that came Herbology with Professor Sprout, head of Hufflepuff.
She was a short, plump witch who usually stayed in the greenhouses tending her plants.
Her robes were always smeared with dirt.
She looked less like a scholar and more like a gardener.
“Welcome to the greenhouse,” she said, standing at the door with a serious expression.
“Before we begin, I need to make a few things clear.
Every plant in here is magical.
Even the most ordinary ones carry some danger.
You are not to touch anything without my permission, and you must wear your protective gear.
Understood?”
“Yes, Professor,” the students answered together.
Inside, she arranged them around a large table lined with pots of herbs.
The moving, magical plants fascinated the first-years.
Combined with Sprout’s clear, accessible explanations, the lesson held their attention completely.
No one was bored.
But the real surprise was Neville.
No one expected him to be the first to complete Professor Sprout’s assignment.
He earned Gryffindor five points for it.
“Neville, you must be a natural at this,” Hylan said.
“Thanks, Hylan.” Neville scratched his head, embarrassed.
“I don’t really know how.
It just worked.”
Hylan looked at the pot of dittany in front of Neville and piled on the praise until Neville was blushing.
Then he shifted gears.
“Honestly, you should really lean into Herbology.
Don’t waste a gift like that.”
“You really think so?
I’ll work hard at it!” Neville’s eyes went firm, like he’d finally found his direction.
“We’re friends.
If you ever need help, come find me.”
“You’re the best, Hylan.” Neville was genuinely moved.
What Neville didn’t know was that from the moment they’d entered the greenhouse, Hylan had recognized every plant in there as rare and valuable.
A few clippings from any of them could sell for over a hundred Galleons.
Hylan’s thinking was simple: get Neville deep into Herbology.
Once Neville became Hogwarts’ Herbology professor someday, all those valuable plants would be free for the taking.
Maybe I can set up a greenhouse for him somewhere.
The Room of Requirement should work.
Let him cultivate the plants and be my free labor.
We’re friends.
He’s not going to charge me.
He advances his studies, I get the harvest.
A win-win.
And he’ll thank me for it.
Hylan smiled to himself.
Friday arrived, and the first-years were about to face their first Potions class.
Professor Snape’s greasy-haired bat image was already legendary.
Most of the new students had heard about him before ever setting foot in his classroom.
The rumors were plentiful: he never washed his hair, he never awarded Gryffindor a single point and never took one from Slytherin, and he routinely made students cry in class.
The young witches and wizards were thoroughly spooked.
They headed to the dungeons early, terrified of being late.
Sure enough, as Hylan left the Great Hall after breakfast, he saw several first-years hurrying toward the dungeons.
“Hurry up!
Potions is with Professor Snape!”
“We can’t be late!
He’s not someone you mess with!”
“I heard he makes at least a couple students cry every class.”
Entering the Potions classroom, the first thing Hylan noticed was the wall of shelves lined with glass jars.
Inside were preserved animal specimens of every shape and size.
A few nervous students edged away from them.
“Hylan, over here.” Hermione waved him over.