Chapter 7: Lessons.
“Ah, music! A magic beyond all we do here!” ” Dumbledore cheered, wiping his eyes as he finished applauding the Weasley Twins delightfully morbid rendition of the School Song “And now, bedtime. Off you trot!” he commanded with a clap of his hands, smiling as the Prefects led the Students towards their respective common rooms “Severus, a word if you will?”
“Yes, Albus?” the dour-faced Potions Master drawled as he turned to regard the Headmaster with a carefully guarded expression “Can this not wait until tomorrow?”
“Oh it’s nothing too strenuous I assure you.” Dumbledore assured the Potions Master “I merely want you to keep an eye on Sunset Shimmer.” He chuckled at Snape’s not wholly unexpected glare “I’m not suggesting you give her preferential treatment…well, no more-so than any of your other Students anyway, but I urge you to remember her position. After all, it wouldn’t reflect well on Hogwarts if we allowed the personal student of a foreign Royal to come to harm on our watch.”
“Especially when said Royal is a Demigod capable of commanding the Sun.” Snape drawled, though it was clear from the lack of mockery in his tone that he understood the importance of his task.
Make no mistake, Severus Snape had no intention of giving Sunset Shimmer preferential treatment, well, no more so than he would any of his other Serpents, Draco Malfoy being the sole exception due to Snape’s need to maintain close ties with the man’s father.
However, there was a marked difference between coddling the spoiled spawn of a Death Eater who had bought his way out of Azkaban and ensuring the protégé of foreign Goddess didn’t wind up dead because she stepped on the wrong toes. For one thing he highly doubted Lucius Malfoy could drop the sun on top of Hogwarts in retaliation for giving his son detention.
‘And then there’s The Boy.’ He growled, his lip curling in distaste as he recalled glaring down at James Potter's Son, gazing gormlessly up at him like a carbon copy of his father, only the knowledge that James Potter was dead and buried (and good riddance) and that Dumbledore would have his head keeping him from cursing the brat out of reflex.
Well, that and the guilt that stabbed his heart every time he found himself locking eyes with the small, underfed child of Lilly Evans, knowing that it was his failure that had driven her to Potter's arms and an early death.
A part of him, the rational adult part, wanted to reach out to the boy, to get to know him, to ensure that some part of what made Lily Evans so wonderful remained untainted by the simpleminded bigotry Gryffindor seemed to inspire no matter what Minerva said to the contrary. To ensure, above all else, that the boy was kept safe from whatever the Headmaster had in store for him as he prepared him for his 'destiny'.
However, all this was rendered moot, as all the childish, vindictive scar on his heart that had never truly healed made it impossible to look at The Boy without seeing the mocking face of James Bloody Potter sneering back at him, reminding him of every affront, every mockery, every indignity he'd been forced to endure, often without consequence. But most of all, he could not look at the boy without being reminded of how James Potter had taken everything he had ever loved.
So yes, Snape would protect the boy, up to and possibly even beyond whatever grand destiny Albus Dumbledore had planned for him, but that didn’t mean he had to be particularly nice about it. So long as Lilly’s child survived to accomplish his destiny, Severus didn’t particularly care what the little bastard thought of him.
While he'd never been a particularly pious man, Snape could only pray that Lilly would forgive him in Heaven, as there was no doubt in his mind he'd be seeing James Potter and his cronies in Hell come judgement day.
Sunset’s first night in the Slytherin Common Room was a decidedly quiet affair, most of her fellow ‘Serpents’ either gathering into cliques, such as Malfoy and his two book-ends Crabbe and Goyle, who Sunset swore lacked a brain-cell between the pair of them, and a Pug-Faced girl named Pansy Parkinson who quickly tried to set herself up as Queen Bee among the First Years whilst simultaneously sucking up to her older peers.
Needless to say, Sunset wasn’t having any of that nonsense, but rather than putting the girl in her place like she normally would have, she opted to instead keep to herself for the time being, at least until she’d garnered enough leverage to put the little brat in her place.
She wasn’t the only one to take the proverbial high-road either. While most of her fellow first-years quickly kowtowed to Malfoy and Parkinson, forming a united ‘clique’ that apparently consisted almost entirely of the offspring of accused ‘Death Eaters’ unless she missed her guess, several of the other First Years, mostly those with older siblings or with no ties to the ‘Old Regime’, likewise opted to remain neutral, despite the best efforts of Malfoy and Parkinson to tempt them to their side.
Unfortunately, it seemed that Malfoy had either remembered her from Diagon Alley or had taken notice of her apparent familiarity with Harry, most likely that latter if his attempts at steering the conversation towards that direction were any indication, the little weasel seemingly believing Sunset to be his proverbial ‘in’ with the Boy Who Lived.
Thankfully for Sunset’s patience, and Malfoy’s continued good health, the start of Term soon provided plenty of distractions for the First Years, though interestingly enough the most common one turned out to be simply finding their way to their designated classrooms, a task made all the more arduous given the very nature of Hogwarts.
Having been Celestia’s Personal Student, Sunset considered herself something of an expert when it came to navigating through Canterlot Castle, a skill that had proven decidedly useful when it came to sneaking past the guards to access the Restricted Section. However, not even spending a month within its walls had prepared her for the proverbial maze that was Hogwarts.
According to Professor Burbage, the castle boasted over a hundred and forty-two staircases of varying styles, shapes and states of repair, but what made their layout so confusing was that they were given to change at any moment given the right time, date or circumstance.
For Faust’s sake there was one staircase that, despite ascending up towards the battlements, somehow led down to the Dungeons! And say what you liked about Canterlot’s design, at least the doors there acted like proper doors, requiring nothing more than an unlocking charm or key, instead of asking them politely if they wouldn’t mind opening.
And that was assuming they were doors at all, and not wise-ass walls that had somehow gained sentience.
‘Seriously, did Discord design this place?’ she wondered, glaring suspiciously at the door to the girl’s bathroom as she and several of her fellow First Years made their way down the hall, as she could’ve sworn they’d passed it three times already. From what she’d read on Celestia’s extensive notes on the Spirit of Chaos’ personality, he’d certainly get a kick out of a self-aware building.
And that wasn’t even factoring in the residents of the castle. Setting aside the Ghosts, who with the exception of Peeves the Poltergeist she’d gotten relatively used to seeing, the Caretaker, Argus Filch, seemed to take a perverse amount of pleasure in swooping in to try and threaten Children with outdated and frankly illegal punishments for a range of perceived infractions, such as loitering in the hall or kicking Miss Norris, his pet cat and co-conspirator. Indeed, the hatred of the pair one of the few things that truly united the Student Body, regardless of House.
Of course, while finding your way to class was an adventure in and of itself, they were often well worth it given the subject of the lessons themselves. There was a lot more to Magic, or at least this world’s version of Magic, than simply waving your wand and saying a few funny words, but no matter what other faults she may have, no-one, pony or otherwise, could ever accuse Sunset Shimmer of being a slacker whenever it came to her studies. True, she might prioritize certain subjects over others, such as Advanced Mana Manipulation over Social Studies, but when you got down to it there was nopony, body or what have you who could compete with her work ethic, a fact that quickly endeared her to many of the Hogwarts Staff.
In Charms, Professor Flitwick praised her not only for her quick grasp of the Wingardium Leviosa Charm, but her mastering it to the point she didn’t even require the incantation. Normally Sunset would have scoffed at his praising what was essentially oversimplified telekinesis, a staple part of Unicorn life, but she didn’t want to blow her cover just yet considering how violent these humans seemed to be.
After all, despite everything she had done, including openly defying her sovereign and breaking into a restricted section of the Canterlot Archives, Celestia had only seen fit to banish her from Canterlot. While Dumbledore had so far been nothing but supportive, Sunset didn’t want to imagine the kind of punishments the Supreme Mugwump could concoct if half the tales of his prowess were to be believed.
Thankfully she had plenty of other subjects with which to occupy her time, Astronomy in particular being a particularly insightful distraction, if only because she was forced to relearn everything from scratch due to the different constellations from Equestria, while Herbology proved to be an adventure in and of itself, as simply handling some of the rare plants in Professor Sprout’s greenhouse often required an even higher level of care and attention one would use to rouse a sleeping dragon.
Transfiguration was another subject she enjoyed, Professor McGonagall proving to be a stern yet fair taskmistress, offering praise where it was due, but never to the extent that any one student seemed to outshine their peers. Indeed, from what little she’d seen thus far it was clear the Deputy Headmistress would often pair more talented students with those that needed a little extra guidance, thus ensuring the whole class developed at an acceptable rate, whilst encouraging inter-house unity.
‘Certainly better than the methods they use at Celestia’s School.’ Sunset grudgingly acknowledged, recalling how the instructors would often shower praise on her in front of her peers, holding her up as an example to follow. While Sunset hadn’t refuted their claims, if anything she’d basked in their approval, looking back she could see how it might have led to her current situation.
‘No point crying over spilt milk.’ She sighed, shaking her head as she stepped out of her first official Muggle Studies class, unable to hide her amusement at the looks of stunned disbelief on her fellow Slytherins, many of whom had just had their delusions of Wizarding Superiority shattered thanks to Charity’s slideshow on the Societal Advances of their non-wizarding kin.
‘And that’s just from the past Century.” She mused, shivering as she recalled the various wars, innovations and developments Mankind had gone through since the 1800’s ‘Wait till they find out about the Moon Landing.’
Sadly, her next few classes were pretty much a joke. Setting aside History of Magic, which despite being taught by an honest to Faust GHOST, might as well have been a self-study period considering how the Professor kept droning on about the same bloody Goblin Rebellion over and over again.
That being said, Defense Against the Dark Arts, or at least Quirrell's attempts to teach the subject, proved to be an even greater waste of the Students time, as at least in Bins’ class she could have gotten something constructive done while the rest of her class caught forty winks.
‘I’m seriously glad I wasn’t around when he taught Muggle Studies.’ She grumbled as she rose from her seat in the Great Hall to head for her first class, only to blink as she bumped into a familiar face in the doorway.
“Oh, Hi Sunset.” Harry greeted, blinking in surprise as he pulled up short to avoid bumping into her, the youngest ginger, Weasel-something, glaring at her from his elbow “Is breakfast over already?”
“Nah, I’m just not a big eater in the mornings.” Sunset assured him with a shrug, pointedly ignoring the suspicious glare she was receiving from the ginger “You settling in alright?”
“Well enough.” Harry admitted, though it was clear from the look of discomfort and the whispers from passing students that he wasn’t being entirely truthful “Those notes you had me take on the train really helped.”
“Forewarned is forearmed as my teacher used to say.” Sunset quoted, a lesson she’d learnt the hard way when one of her attempts to prank Celestia had failed on account of her underestimating Kibitz, who while normally willing to indulge in a bit of revelry, wasn’t about to allow anything that might upset the Princess’ schedule “We’ve got Double Potions later on, want me to save you a seat?”
“Why would he want to sit with you?” the ginger demanded, stepping between the startled Harry and Sunset in a blatant attempt to scare her off, only to twitch as she pointedly ignored him “Oi! I’m talking to you-!”
“I’ll catch you later, Harry, gotta get to class.” Sunset cut in, suppressing the urge to smirk as the ginger turned red at being ignored “Make sure you go over your Potion Notes. From what I’ve heard Professor Snape likes to pick on the other Houses, so expect a pop-quiz at the very least.”
“Uh, right…” Harry stammered, Sunset having driven home the very likely possibility of one of Voldemort’s allies trying to poison him to avenge their master on the Express, the Boy-Who-Lived nodding farewell to the girl before all but dragging Ron, who was flushing indignantly at being effectively ignored, into the main hall to grab a bite to eat.
“Too easy.” Sunset scoffed, shaking her head with a smile before heading off to class with a spring in her step.
Potions lessons took place in one of the Hogwarts dungeons, which with the exception of the Slytherin Common Room were notably colder than the main castle, creating an ominous, foreboding atmosphere that was only enhanced by the presence of the numerous pickled animals and various other unspeakable things floating in glass jars that lined the walls.
Thankfully, Harry wasn’t forced to pick between Ron and Sunset, as the seat next to the redhead had already been claimed by Hermione Granger, who had overheard their conversation in the hallway and had plopped herself next to the startled Slytherin to compare notes while they waited for Professor Snape to show up.
“Stuck up Snake.” Ron spat, the youngest Weasley brother glaring at the back of Sunset’s head as they pulled out their books, having not forgotten her snubbing of him in the hall that morning “What’s she playing at, acting all friendly?”
“Sunset’s actually kind of nice once you get to know her.” Harry countered, rising to the defense of his first…friend? Did he and Sunset count as friends? “We met in Diagon Alley; Professor McGonagall was helping her with her shopping.”
“Wait, so she’s a Muggleborn?” Ron stammered, only to flinch as several of the Slytherins glared at him and lowered his voice “Blimey that’s weird, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a Muggleborn being sorted into Slytherin. They’re really big on Blood Purity.”
“I don’t think she’s a Muggleborn.” Harry countered, keeping his voice low “I think she might be a Half-Blood like me. She mentioned her Teacher using Magic and she seemed to grasp things a lot quicker than I did despite never setting foot in Diagon Alley before.”
“Sounds like a Half-Blood alright.” Ron conceded, glancing between the two with a confused frown “And she’s the one who helped you with those notes you’ve been using?”
“Apparently she was practicing before Term Started.” Harry admitted, rolling his eyes at Ron’s look of horror at the idea of working during the Holidays “She managed to levitate my trunk onto the train despite only getting her Wand earlier that day. Apparently Ollivander had to make it custom.”
“Blimey…” Ron marveled, glancing back at the redhead warily, only to stiffen as he caught her glancing back at them over her shoulder with a quirked brow.
Hoping he hadn’t upset his…friend? Acquaintance? By talking about her behind his back, Harry promptly offered her an apologetic wave, only to sit up straight as the door to the classroom opened to admit Professor Snape, the lanky Potion’s Master striding to the front of the Class, his robes billowing behind him dramatically as he moved behind his desk.
Now it should be noted that, having been spent almost the entirety of his life confined to the cupboard under the stairs, forced to deal with his abusive relatives, Harry had gotten rather used to people hating him. Even the other children in Little Whining had quickly learnt to steer clear of him, driven off out of fear of being picked on by Dudley’s gang or warned away by their Parents buying into the Dursley’s lies that he was some sort of hooligan.
Indeed, up until Hagrid arrived to deliver his Hogwarts Letter, the only adult who ever regarded him with anything other than thinly veiled disgust was his neighbor, Mrs. Figg, who would often watch him whenever the Dursleys took Dudley out on his birthdays, forcing him to look at pictures of all the cats she’d ever owned, all while being treated as a human scratching post/pillow/climbing frame by the ones she currently possessed.
With this in mind, it should come as no surprise to anyone that Harry was rather used to adults disliking him for no apparent reason, however up until arriving at Hogwarts this had only applied to the Muggle World, as almost every Witch or Wizard he’d encountered thus far had at least been fascinated by the sight of him, such that he’d honestly found it almost refreshing for to encounter such a familiar expression on the Potion’s Professor at the start-of-term banquet.
Sadly, that relief would soon turn out to be decidedly short-lived.
"Ah, Yes," Snape noted softly, looking up at the last Potter with dark, calculating eyes, his lip twitching, as if he was suppressing the urge to sneer "Harry Potter. Our newest…celebrity."
Harry flushed but held his ground, refusing to back down from the man’s piercing stare even as Draco Malfoy and his two book-ends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands, Ron placing his own on Harry's shoulder in a welcomed attempt to calm him down.
Thankfully, after a moment’s prolonged silence, Snape silenced the laughter with a sharp look before resuming taking the register before turning to regard the class with his cold, empty black eyes that made the old closet under the stairs seem cozy by comparison.
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making." He instructed, his voice barely more than a whisper "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic.” He elaborated, though Harry could detect the barely restrained condescension in his tone.
“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.” Snape confessed he paced behind his desk “I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death…" he sneered at the Gryffindors, though Harry was certain it was directed at him in particular "That is, if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."
Well, it was official, as impossible as it sounded, and despite all odds to the contrary, Harry had finally found someone he hated as much, if not more than, the Dursleys.
‘How in the name of Starswirl’s Beard did this guy manage to become a teacher?’ Sunset marveled, rolling her eyes in exasperation as Snape, not even trying to hide his dislike, launched a series of questions at Harry that the Boy-Who-Lived managed to answer, albeit uncertainly, having apparently taken her advice to heart and gone over his Potions notes before class.
Sadly, as satisfying as it was to see her…acquaintance, put the greasy-haired Professor in his place, the effect was rather ruined by Hermione Granger jumping up and down like a Parasprite on a Sugar Rush trying to get the man’s attention like a stereotypical over-achieving teacher’s pet.
“Give it a rest.” She hissed, reaching out to grab the girl’s arm, forcing her back onto her stool as she made to stand up “It’s clear he’s obviously targeting Harry, he won’t acknowledge you even if you weren’t a Gryffindor.”
“But…isn’t that bullying?” Hermione whispered, glancing furtively back at Snape’s back only to whip around as he turned back to the class and promptly barked at them to start taking notes, clearly venting his frustrations of Harry successfully fending off his questions on the rest of them “Should I tell Professor McGonagall?”
“I don’t think it’d matter if you did.” Sunset countered as she pretended to take down notes, having already made several prior “It’s well documented that Snape doesn’t like Gryffindors, if he hasn’t been dismissed by now, one more complaint won’t do much, even if it is Harry he’s picking on.” She scoffed “Hell, given his obvious disdain, he might try to pass it off as Harry trying to use his fame to get what he wants and have the whole mess swept under the carpet.”
Hermione didn’t look altogether pleased with that answer, but in the end decided to put it on the back-burner as Snape, having been effectively foiled by Harry, and Sunset by extension, began to instruct them on how to brew a simple potion to cure boils, forcing the two to focus their attention on their cauldron.
At first the two had butted heads, as Hermione was a stickler of following the official instructions as detailed in the books, however she soon changed her tune when Sunset had pointed out that her alterations came from reading ahead and referencing alternative, well-documented sources, though admittedly her personal experience with Potion-Making was limited to what little she recalled from her days in Canterlot.
‘I wonder how Zithembe is doing?’ she wondered as she ignored Snape praising her for ‘her’ potion, completely ignoring Hermione’s contribution, in favor of recalling the old Zebra Shaman that had been her instructor in Potion Making. As annoying as his tendency to rhyme had been, Zithembe had nonetheless been a capable instructor up until he returned to his homeland to search for an apprentice ‘He’d certainly have had a thing or two to say about this guy’s methods.’
Indeed, it was probably a good thing for Snape that the Mirror Portal was closed, as Sunset knew for a fact if the old Zebra ever caught wind of how the Potions Master taught he’d have delivered a harsh lesson of his own, in the shape of his staff upside the man’s greasy head.
Setting aside his obvious favoritism towards the Slytherins, Draco Malfoy in particular, Sunset had already compiled a list of issues with the man’s methods, not least of which being his looming over the students in what was clearly an obvious attempt to unnerve them, something no sane Potion Master would do considering what could happen if they made a mistake, a risk that grew increasingly more likely every time he felt the need to draw the entire class’s attention to whatever minor achievement his Slytherins had performed.
As if to prove her point, while Snape was busy praising Malfoy’s stewed slugs, which Sunset was pointedly ignoring mostly because she didn’t want to think about the pompous little rat if she could help it, the former unicorn spotted a particularly nervous looking Neville Longbottom about to add porcupine quills to his potion, having either forgotten or being too enraptured by Snape’s posturing to realize that his cauldron was still bubbling away on the fire.
“BrachimotorMortis.” She incanted under her breath, freezing the poor boy’s arm in place just in time before lowering it, and the quills, back onto the table, releasing her spell just as Snape finished pontificating.
“Don’t just sit there, Finnegan, Longbottom!” the Potions Master sneered at Neville’s dumbstruck expression “Your potion should be ready by now, take it off the fire and add the Porcupine Quills, or are the two of you incapable of following such basic instructions?”
‘Faust what a plot-hole.’ Sunset sighed, shaking her head as the poor Gryffindors scrambled to do as they were told, only to blink as she found Hermione gaping at her with her mouth open “What?”
“How did you do that?” the bushy-haired girl whispered excitedly, looking torn between being scandalized and intrigued by what she’d clearly witnessed “I don’t remember reading anything like that in The Standard Book of Spells!”
“That’s because it’s not in the Standard Book.” Sunset countered, gesturing for her to keep her voice down as Snape began to prowl around once more “I based it off the Leg-Locker Curse in Curses and Counter Curses. Harry has a copy, ask him to borrow it sometime.”
“You made your own SPELL?!” Hermione squeaked, flushing scarlet as she clapped her hands over her mouth, though thankfully this did little more than earn a glare from Snape and curious looks from the rest of the class “But that’s…that’s-!”
“Nothing special.” Sunset countered with a shrug “As I said, I simply took the principle of an existing Spell and changed the target focus.” She waved a hand dismissively “Think of it like binding someone’s feet or hands with a rope. In this case, the spell is the rope; the only difference is which part of the body I’m tying up.”
Now normally Sunset would've been content to bask in her own superiority . However, her time with Celestia had taught her that having strong ties was important, and while being placed in Slytherin would doubtless aid in her ambitions, it was unlikely she'd make strong allies there.
From a purely potential standpoint, Harry was arguably the strongest political tie she had at Hogwarts, however, their being placed in different houses, rival houses at that, made it very likely that the two would drift apart unless Sunset made a conscious effort to keep in contact, something that would be next to impossible with her house-mates watching her every move.
However, in Hermione Granger, Sunset saw an opportunity to not only ensure her ties to The Boy Who Lived remained unbroken, but also to ensure she didn't jeopardise her standing in her own house by associating with a Gryffindor, as from what little she'd gathered of the girl, she wasn't exactly popular with her own house-mates.
With that in mind, while Hermione tried to wrap her mind around her accomplishment, the former unicorn decided to test the waters by offering an olive branch “I can lend you my notes if you like?”
“Would-?!” Hermione gasped, only to compose herself at the last second “I mean yes, yes I’d like that.” She confessed with a smile that, for some reason, Sunset couldn’t help but return “I have to admit I was hoping to get a head-start on spell-theory at some point, but I was told that wouldn’t happen until at least third year.”
“I’ve never been good at following other people’s timetables.” Sunset admitted with a self-confident scoff, the rest of the lesson passing in a blur as the two discussed Spell Theory and its applications over a simmering cauldron, from which pink smoke wafted lazily into the cold dungeon air.