1 Potions Class
Minerva McGonagall stood sentry in the hallway of the crowded Hogwarts dungeons. It was a rush hour for students- who moved quickly between classrooms and their dormitories, except for James Potter and Sirius Black, who Peter Pettigrew tagged behind.
James towered over the passing queue of first-year students, teasing them and snickering at their innocent looks. Sirius and Peter, almost joined at the hip, were heading nowhere.
"Mr. Black, that is the girls' lavatories!" yelled McGonagall.
She shuffled closer to James and glared at him, reminded of his and Sirius' dismal performances in the OWLs.
"Potter! Enjoying ourselves, are we? Did you already lose interest in becoming an Auror?"
James yielded his mischief, wiped the grin from his face, and fixed his glasses.
"P-pardon me, Professor, we had a free period in the morning, and we wandered off a bit on our way to Professor Slughorn's class."
Their former teacher sighed with disappointment and ruminated on how to keep the clueless student out of trouble.
"Why don't you entreat Professor Slughorn to let you into his Slug Club? I hear he uses his popular contacts to help deserving students make good wizarding careers."
"Yes, Professor, I will speak to him today," James answered while distracted by a student who was walking against the crowd. He barely kept his laughter in.
"And take Sirius and Peter with you. They look far too happy over there," she added, gesturing towards the duo, who seemed to be in the middle of a carnival fair. She cast one stern glance at the group and left.
James, Sirius, and Peter crossed their ways as they made their way to the potion class. Once the crowd thinned, Sirius removed a blank fold of parchment from his robe, tapped it, and uttered a spell.
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
The following words appeared on the folds~
~~~
Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs
Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers
are proud to present
~THE MARAUDER'S MAP~
~~~
Peter stalked behind them, trying to get a hold of the map. Remus elbowed him away.
James smirked and asked, "Keeping an eye on Snivellus, Padfoot?"
But Sirius did not look as if he was in the mood for fun.
"I think Snape has a secret," Sirius declared. "I did not find him anywhere on the map, twice this week."
Peter jumped in. "Perhaps, he has found a way out of Hogwarts. He looked suspicious and secretive last time I saw him."
James laughed and pointed out: "Snivellus looks nervous and uptight all the time. But that is because he has no friends. Why should it be our concern, fellow wizards? Perhaps the map's magic is weaning?"
"He hangs around with Mulciber, Rodolphus, and Evan Rosier. And listen to us, James, that is not all..."
A crowd of students was approaching from the other side.
Sirius tapped the map and uttered a spell.
"Mischief Managed!"
The Marauders' Map folded itself up neatly, and the ink disappeared into the parchment.
Sirius and Peter looked at their jolly friend with troubled expressions.
"There is more?" James enquired.
Peter spoke for the duo: "We-uh, we think he is a death-eater-
James was speechless for a few moments. He raised a finger, trying to find the right words.
"That is utterly ridiculous!" he blurted out finally. "Snivellus might have a morbid interest in the dark arts, but even to imagine that he is a death eater? He has as much courage as a dung-beetle."
"Have you ever seen his forearms, James?" Sirius posed. "He always hides them. He has the-
"-Dark mark!" Peter completed.
They had reached the Potions classroom and James, who was leading, pushed the door open. As the trio entered, they put their heads together and lowered their voices.
Sirius whispered: "He always covers his wrists with oversized sweaters. Because he has it. The Dark Mark! I am sure of it!"
They walked past the rows to the back of the class, which was their usual station. On their way, they passed Severus Snape. A pale teenager with sallow skin and yellow, uneven teeth. He had shoulder-length, greasy black hair and cold, black eyes. His clothes were oversized and so ill-fitting that it seemed almost deliberate.
Meanwhile, Professor Horace Slughorn had welcomed James and Sirius with flourishing words while ignoring Peter. Still, they had overlooked him and had proceeded to the back-benches. Slughorn had gone back to explaining the validity of Golpalott's Third Law.
"-Therefore, a true antidote to a blended poison is more often than not superior to the sum of its parts."
The Potions classroom did not cheer up the newcomers. Pickled animals in glass jars adorned the walls. There was a stone gargoyle in a corner; out of its mouth issued ice-cold water into a basin, where students washed their hands and ladles. At another corner stood the student supply cupboards. The sounds of concoctions bubbling and the smell of burning herbs were prevalent.
The task for the class was to prepare an antidote to the Garish pink blended poison. The steps were simple, but the students continued making mistakes. Slughorn focused more on his favorite students while explaining very little to the others. Errors in potion-making had dangerous consequences. In this case, they were a profuse smell of rotten eggs and the emission of putrid fumes.
Prof. Slughorn did patrol the rows, but only for showering his 'high-flyers' with praise.
The Marauders were going through unique struggles with potion-making. Peter was stuck in Scarpin's Revelaspell. James had brought only eight phials out of ten and had some leftover ingredients, which he quietly poured into Peter's cauldron. And Sirius had added a bunch of hair to his brew (instead of one).
"You are making an antidote to the Garish pink blended poison, Mr. Potter, not the Hair-raising potion!" Slughorn chided him.
The trio sniggered under their breath after their teacher moved on.
Slughorn approached Severus Snape. The latter had an old copy of Advanced Potion-making open by his side; it had margin notes and corrections scribbled over. His table was well-organized, and his half-brew was almost complete, bubbling sluggishly.
"We have a winner!" announced Slughorn.
