This is What Ravenclaw Looks Like

"What a disaster…"

"Definitely…"

Potions class had just ended, and the students pouring out were already whispering about what had just happened — Professor Snape's temper today was downright terrifying, like the first day of term all over again. He'd laid into them mercilessly.

He hadn't even spared the handful of students who usually did well in Potions — just because their potion's color wasn't perfectly spot-on.

"So scary… Andrew, how many times did you get yelled at?"

"Twice," Andrew sighed. "I mixed up how to process two different kinds of beetles, and then when slicing the herb roots I didn't cut them on the diagonal."

There was nothing he could do about it. He still made the occasional "non-magical" mistake — those beetles looked nearly identical, but you had to gut one from the back and the other from the belly, cutting off its left legs too…

The first mistake he could understand, but why the left leg for the other one? And because, in this very magical logic, cutting the left or right legs resulted in completely different effects in the potion — and they even reacted differently depending on what potion you were making!

He just didn't have the mental bandwidth to memorize all these petty details on top of the Transfiguration system he was studying. His only strategy was to do a quick pre-class review and flip through the textbook in class — which meant his Potions level stayed just above "doesn't blow up the cauldron," producing a usable but rarely perfect potion.

"Twice? Could've been worse. But why was Professor Snape so angry again today?"

"No idea — and Gryffindor's class isn't even until this afternoon…"

Andrew shook his head and lied — he did know the real reason, but that sort of gossip was best left unsaid.

Getting on that professor's bad side was practically suicidal.

It all went back to that morning — Andrew had gotten up early as usual to run around the Black Lake. By coincidence, he ran into that same tall Hufflepuff from yesterday.

Since they'd already introduced themselves, the two jogged side by side for a while until Sher suddenly called out.

"Look over there."

He pointed ahead, slowing down a bit.

And the two of them saw him — Hagrid, the Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts.

"Oh, Merlin…"

"By Merlin's beard…"

They both breathed out in awe. A vicious-looking beast, so ferocious it seemed like it had crawled out of the underworld, was being dragged by the neck toward the Forbidden Forest — but the shocking part wasn't how scary it looked.

This beast, savage as it was, had eyes that showed seven parts delight, two parts helplessness, and one part defeat. Hagrid was hauling it along, occasionally murmuring.

"Good dog… Good boy…"

Such a scene left Andrew and Sher deeply shaken.

"Think you could take it on?"

"I'd last three bites," Andrew swallowed, answering honestly.

It wasn't that he was afraid of dogs, but that this one's movements — what could barely be called "playful" with Hagrid — were way too nimble. It was nothing like the troll they'd seen before. His Transfiguration skills weren't anywhere near good enough to restrain that monster. Not even close.

"I might last one more bite than you…"

Sher's face was pale, and the two of them very tactfully didn't mention how terrifyingly strong Hagrid had to be to handle that beast single-handedly.

But then Sher perked up like he'd discovered a new continent.

"Hey, do you think that's the dog that took a bite out of Snape recently?"

It made sense — judging by how lively that beast was when playing with Hagrid, it was certainly possible. The rumor about something biting Snape had been circulating around the Great Hall for days. Now they'd finally met the culprit.

"Looks like whatever was on the fourth floor really has been removed. But Snape's probably gonna lose it today — the culprit is out here sunbathing and probably got extra treats for doing a 'good job guarding'… I bet his group won't be anywhere near the Forbidden Forest for a while."

Hufflepuffs are so wickedly gleeful…

Though Andrew couldn't help laughing too — but now, he was starting to regret that morning chuckle.

Sixth-years didn't have to take Potions. He, a first-year, had laughed too soon…

'Well, that basically confirms the Philosopher's Stone has been removed from the third-floor corridor — I still don't know the full details, but McGonagall probably has a lot more free time now…'

He still hadn't shown her his imitation Bubble-Head Charm — whether for tweaking it or developing something similar, any tips from McGonagall would be a huge help.

The last few days, with Quirrell's death, she probably hadn't had the headspace for it, but if he waited any longer, Christmas break would be here and he'd have wasted too much time.

With that, Andrew pulled out his timetable to check, made sure he'd remembered right, then said goodbye to his dormmates and headed for Professor McGonagall's office on the second floor.

"Ah… come in."

A slightly familiar male voice called from inside McGonagall's office. Andrew hesitated, then pushed the door open.

"Wait here for a moment — the Professor is teaching a class— oh, it's you, um, you're…"

A red-haired boy was sitting at McGonagall's desk, trying to tackle a stack of who-knew-what paperwork — but Andrew noticed the ink bottle next to him hadn't even been opened.

Now wasn't the time to dwell on that. He needed to make this less awkward.

"Andrew Taylor. We've seen each other loads of times in the library."

"Right, right," Percy said, oddly flustered. "We even talked about Transfiguration twice. The Professor speaks very highly of you."

Weird, Andrew thought. What's he so nervous about? A Gryffindor prefect in McGonagall's office isn't unusual at all…

But he didn't say a word about it — instead, he looked for an excuse to leave. No point hovering around when someone clearly wanted privacy — the portraits outside the door would vouch for him anyway.

"Ah, don't worry about it," Percy said quickly. "I need to sort through this pile of files anyway. You can wait here — the Professor has a nice set of Transfiguration journals on that shelf. Take a look."

To Andrew's surprise, Percy seemed reluctant for him to leave. Instead, he fetched a few Transfiguration magazines and sat back down, stubbornly wrestling with the paperwork — though he kept glancing over his shoulder, only to jerk his head forward again like something weird was lurking behind him.

What the heck?

Andrew was curious, but he forced the feeling down, opened a journal, and focused on reading.

T/N: For twenty chapters ahead on all my fics become a P@tron at [email protected]/LordHipposApostle