Hogwarts was even better than she had imagined. Though she'd had extensive tutoring at home, it was nothing like this. Maths, literature, and etiquette had nothing on actual magic! Tuesday night at midnight the Slythrins went up into the Astronomy tower to study the night skies through their telescopes, and three times a week they had Herbology with the Ravenclaws in the greenhouses behind the castle.

History of Magic was useless. It was taught by a ghost, Professor Binns, who only seemed to go into detail about the Goblin Wars. Only he could make a subject so bloody and interesting sound dull as lead.

Charms was taught by Professor Flitwick, a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. He was incredibly cheerful and enthusiastic.

Professor McGonagall was not a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave 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 in Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Defense Against the Dark Arts was nothing more than a big joke. Quirrell stuttered all the way through his lessons, and looked as though he was positively terrified of his subject.

Friday the Slytherins went down to the dungeons where the double potions lessons with the Gryffindors took place. They set up all of their cauldrons and whispered amongst each other (each house steadfastly ignoring the other) until the door to burst open with a loud bang. Uncle Sev commanded silence without even saying a word as he strode into the room, his robes swirling around him.

"There will be no foolish wand-waving, or silly incantations in this class." He said firmly turning to face them, his eyes roving over each student in turn. "As such I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making. However, for those select few who possess the predisposition..." he looked at Darcy when he said this, "I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper into death. Then again," he went on, now looking at Potter, who was writing in his notebook. "maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts with abilities so formidable you feel competent enough to not. Pay. Attention."

A fellow Gryffindor nudged Harry, causing him to look up and sheepishly replace the quill in his inkwell.

"Mr. Potter." Uncle Sev drawled. "Our... new... celebrity. Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry looked stumped, and Darcy had to admit, she didn't know the answer either. But the frizzy haired Gryffindor shot her hand up into the air. Uncle Sev ignored her. Eventually, the boy just shook his head.

"You don't know?" Sev asked, "Well, let's try again. Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

This one Darcy did know. Sev always kept bezoars on him, in case of an emergency. The girl beside Potter shook her hand harder in her desperation to be called on.

"I don't know, sir." Harry mumbled, looking down.

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

The boy's face turned red as his friend's hand quivered more, almost vibrating in her seat.

"What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?" Uncle Sev continued.

Darcy didn't think this was a very fair question either. While both names were mentioned in the text book, one would have to look in the appendix to know that they were the same thing.

The Gryffindor girl stood up in her desperation to be called on. Darcy almost wished he would call on her, just to get her to stop.

"I don't know." Harry said again, obviously fed up with the attack. "I think Hermione does though, why don't you ask her?"

Several of the Gryffindors began laughing, and Uncle Sev silenced them all with a glare.

"Sit down." He finally snapped at Hermione, "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is know as the Draught of Sleeping Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite." There was a slight pause before he snapped at them all. "Well? Why aren't you all writing this down?"

As everyone scrambled around for paper, Uncle Sev took a point from Gryffindor due to cheek. Darcy didn't blame him for punishing the disrespect, but perhaps he could have asked easier questions.

Soon he set them all making Boil Cures, which Darcy knew how to make back to front. Uncle Sev was just showing the class her perfect stewed horned slugs when acid green smoke and hissing diverted all of their attentions. A bumbling Gryffindor by the name of Longbottom had just destroyed his potion, melting a cauldron and causing himself painful boils in the process.

"Stupid boy!" Uncle Sev scolded as he swept over. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Longbottom couldn't really answer, and soon he was being shuffled off to the hospital wing.

"You- Potter-" Uncle Sev said, rounding on the boy once Longbottom was gone, "Why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look better if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."

The red and gold clad students groaned, while many of Darcy's house snickered. She on the other hand, was shocked, and a bit disappointed in her godfather. Potter had his attention on Snape the whole time, just like the rest of the class. He hadn't had anything to do with the incident. An hour later, when the lesson ended and the class dispersed, Darcy stayed behind.

Uncle Sev was busy cleaning up and preparing for his next class, and didn't look at her while he spoke.

"Yes, Darcy, what is it?"

Now that they were alone, she didn't quite know what to say. Sev was an adult, and her professor now, and chiding him about fairness didn't seem to be a good idea. Especially when he seemed so busy and irritated.

"Nothing," she finally murmured, leaving the classroom in a hurry, never noticing her godfather's eyes following her as she went.

...

Harry refused to grow any friendlier towards Darcy, and if he wanted to base his dislike on a lousy first impression, she was not going to go around begging for his friendship. If he wanted to remain on bad terms, she could be just as mean. More so.

The good news was that they only saw each other in Potions class, but that changed when flying lessons came about. Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together on Thursday. But even spending extra time with Potter would be worth it to be back on a broom again. Flying was the one thing that she loved above all else, one of the few unladylike activities that she ever got to participate in. She wouldn't let Potter ruin it for her.

But it wasn't Potter who brought the lesson to a halt. It was the Longbottom boy, who fell off his broom within the first five minutes and sprained his wrist. The rest of the students were left grounded as Madame Hooch took him to the hospital wing. Only Darcy had noticed that he had dropped a Rememberall on the ground, and picked it up sulkily.

"Maybe if Longbottom had given this a squeeze, he'd have remembered not to fall." Darcy said, feeling peeved at Longbottom's clumsiness. The surrounding Slytherins laughed.

"Shut up, Malfoy." Parvati Patil snapped.

"Sticking up for Longbottom?" Pansy asked, "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

Potter pushed his way to the front of the students.

"Give that here, Malfoy." he demanded, holding out his hand for the Rememberall. Darcy bristled at his tone. It wasn't as if she had stolen it! She was just picking it up, for Merlin's sake!

"No. I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find." Darcy snapped, not really meaning it, but wanting to ruffle Potter's feathers. "How about up in a tree?"

She pulled up her broom and flew into the air.

"What's the matter, Potter? A bit beyond your reach?"

Darcy never expected him to fly up with her, and with the ease of someone who had been flying for years. It surprised her, and rendered her bluff useless.

"Give it here," Harry called, "Or I'll knock you off your broom!"

The threat scared her, but she wasn't about to admit such a thing.

"Oh yeah?" she asked, trying to sound braver than she felt. Potter shot towards her, and Darcy only just got away in time.

People were clapping below, but she couldn't tell if it was for Harry's attack or her own dodge.

"No Crabbe and Goyle to save your neck up here, Malfoy." Potter called, and Darcy's fear grew. Would he really knock her off? They could be seriously hurt at this hight if they fell.

Not wanting to find out, nor wanting him to charge at her again, Darcy did the only thing she could think of to get him away from her.

"Catch, then!" she shouted, throwing the Rememberall as hard as she could. Harry flew after it, and Darcy went straight to the ground. She landed just in time to see Potter pull out of a spectacular dive, the small object in hand. Darcy couldn't help but be both awed and resentful at the way flying came so naturally to him. This couldn't be his first time on a broom... he must have been lying when he said he was a beginner. Nobody was that good.

Potter flew back to where their class was waiting, his prize in hand held above his head as his classmates cheered.

"HARRY POTTER!"

The sound of McGonagall's shout cut through them all, and everyone fell silent.

"Come with me please." She said sternly before turning away, and the raven-haired Gryffindor slunk after her back to the castle.

Darcy had never before felt such an odd mixture of vindication and guilt.