***Chloe's first say of school hairstyle*** 

  The next morning, Hermione and I headed to Transfiguration. Harry and Ron were nowhere to be seen. But as we were doing our notes, we could hear the sound of running feet and the sound of a door slamming. Hermione and I swivelled around to see Harry and Ron sprinting into the classroom. 

  "Whew!" said Harry with relief. "Made it!" 

  "Can you imagine the look on old Professor McGonagall's face when she sees that we're late?" said Ron with a hint of amusement in his voice. 

  On cue, the cat that had been sitting on the desk moments before, turned directly into Professor McGonagall. Both boys stared at her in shock and disbelief. I couldn't help but smirk. 

  "That was bloody brilliant!" said Ron in awe. 

  "Thank you for that assessment, Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall replied. "Perhaps I should turn Mr. Potter into a pocket watch? That way, one of you might be on time." 

  The boys ignored the snickering that rang throughout the classroom. 

  "W-We got lost," Harry stuttered. 

  "Well, then. Perhaps a map?" Professor McGonagall suggested. "I trust that you won't need one to find your seats. Sit." 

  Both boys glanced at each other before taking their seats opposite of me and Hermione. 

  "They should really learn that the Transfiguration classroom is literally just up the next flight of stairs," Hermione whispered to me, giggling as she did. 

  I couldn't help but giggle back. Ron glanced over his shoulder and glared at us. But we managed to ignore him. 

  Potions class was a lot different than Transfiguration. We knew what to do with our wands and not do anything stupid with them in both classes. But it was Professor Snape's strictness that set us off-guard. Professor Snape came in and we immediately went silent as he banged the door shut. 

  "There will be no silly incantations or silly incantations in this class," he declared. I raised my eyebrows at him. "As such, I don't expect many of you to become interested in the subject of potion-making. However, for those selected few. . . . who possess a predisposition." He paused for a dramatic effect. "I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and to ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame and brew glory, and even put a stopper to death." 

He paused, his dark eyes sweeping around the classroom. All eyes were on him. No one made a sound. 

"But then again, maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possession of abilities so formidable that you feel confident enough to not. Pay. Attention!" He raised his voice on the last few words, glaring at Harry. 

  I glanced over at him, as he sat next to me. I nudged him sharply in the ribs and nodded my head in Professor Snape's direction. 

  "Well, well, well," said Professor Snape as Harry put his full attention on him. "Mr. Potter, and Miss Ellis. Our new celebrities." I raised my eyebrows at him. He then turned to Harry again, completely ignoring me. "Tell me, Mr. Potter, what would I get if I added the root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" 

  I immediately shot my hand in the air. I already knew this question, as I'd looked through all of my books last night, as I couldn't go to sleep. Harry glanced at me, looking a little surprised and slightly annoyed. 

  "I don't know, sir," he answered in an honest voice. 

  "You don't know?" Professor Snape sneered. "Well, let's try again. Tell me, where would you look if I asked you to find a bezoar?" 

  Again, I shot my hand up in the air, eager to tell him the answer. But, to my dismay, Professor Snape continued to ignore me. 

  Harry glanced at me again, looking pissed. 

  "I don't know, sir," he admitted in a quiet voice. 

  "No? Well, Mr. Potter. What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?" he challenged. 

  "I don't know, sir," Harry answered in a flat voice. "Why don't you ask Chloe? She seems to know the answer." 

  Half of the class burst out laughing. 

  "Pity," Professor Snape drawled. "Clearly, fame isn't everything. Is it, Mr. Potter? Put your hand down, Miss Ellis!" he spat at me. 

  So, clearly disappointed, I let my hand fall into my lap. 

  A couple of days later, we all did our homework in the Great Hall. Seamus Finnegan, a fellow first-year Gryffindor, was chanting a Transfiguration spell to himself. 

  "'Eye of rabbit, harp string hum. Turn this water into rum." 

  He kept repeating this to himself. Harry was watching Seamus with fascination. 

  "Hey, Chloe? What's Seamus trying to turn that glass of water into?" 

  "Into rum," I answered in a casual voice. "He actually managed to turn it into a weak tea the other day while you and Ron were using the loo. Well, that was before he —" A loud bang interrupted me. We looked up to see Seamus Finnigan staring at his goblet in disbelief. In the meanwhile, he had ashes all over his face. "Exploded it," I muttered to myself. I shook my head and began to get back to my homework. 

  "Question, Chloe," said Ron in confusion. "How did you know that Harry and I were using the loo?" 

  I glared at him. "You told me. That's why," I snapped. 

  "Really? I don't recall —" 

  "Oh, yes, you did. You told me 'Oh, Rivvy. Harry and I are gonna go use the loo and we'll meet you back in the Great Hall when we're done'." 

  Ron blushed. "Shut up." 

  "Admit it. You said it yourself," I snapped, glaring at him. 

  Ron sighed with annoyance before the familiar sound of owls screeching was heard. I immediately looked around for my owl, Gizmo. He immediately flew down with a copy of the Daily Prophet in its talons, as well as a package in its beak. I opened the package from home, eager to see what Mr. and Mrs. Weasley got for me. As usual, it was their famous homemade chocolate. Ron had gotten the same, but he was more interested in the letter his parents had written to him. 

  "Hey, Chloe?" said Harry, who sat across from me. "Can I borrow this?" Distracted, I nodded. Harry began to look through the Daily Prophet that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had sent  us. A few moments later, Harry spoke up, catching our attention. "Hey, guys. Listen to this! Someone had broken into Gringotts. 'Believed to be the works of a Dark Witch or Wizard unknown, the goblins of Gringotts insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault in question, 713, had been emptied earlier that day'." Harry paused, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "That's odd. That's the same vault Hagrid and I went to." 

  I watched as Neville opened his package from home. He had an eager look on his face. But once he pulled the object out of its package, he had a look of confusion. 

  "Hey, look!" said fellow first-year, Dean Thomas. "Neville's got himself a Rememberall." 

  "I've read about those," Hermione immediately butted in. "When the smoke turns red, it means that you've forgotten something."

   On cue, the smoke turned red. 

  "The only problem is," said Neville in a forlorn voice, "I can't remember what I've forgotten." 

  Later that afternoon, we had our first flying lesson with Madame Hooch. 

  "Good afternoon, class," she greeted as she walked in between us. 

  "Good afternoon, Madame Hooch," we all chorused back. 

  "Good afternoon, Miss Amanda. Good afternoon, Miss Chloe." She put her hands firmly on her hips and stood before us. "Welcome to your first flying lesson. Well, what are you waiting for? Stick your right hand over your broom, and say, 'up'!" 

  "UP!" We chorused immediately. 

  At once, my broom jumped into my hands. 

  "Wow!" I breathed, amazed. 

  "With feeling," Madame Hooch insisted. 

  By now, more than half of the class had their brooms in their hands. Ron, unfortunately, was having trouble with his. His broom smacked him in the face. Harry and I burst out laughing. Ron held his nose, obviously in pain.

  "Shut up, Harry. Shut up, Chloe," he groaned, glaring at us. 

  Madame Hooch continued to explain the rules of flying once everyone had gotten their brooms in their hands.

  "Now, once you've gotten a hold of your brooms, I want you to mount it. Grip it tightly. I don't want you to slide off the end. When I blow my whistle, I want you to kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your broom steady. Hover for a moment. Then, lean forward slightly before touching back down. On my whistle. Ready? One, two, three!" 

  She blew her whistle. At once, Neville Longbottom slowly flew into the air on the broom's own accord. Everyone was obviously terrified as they watched Neville zooming around, without any control of his broom, whatsoever. Finally, Neville fell into a heap on the ground. 

  "Out of my way! Out of my way!" said Madame Hooch in a frantic voice. She shoved past us to get to Neville. She helped him up and examined his wrist. "Oh. Broken wrist. Come along, boy. I'll take you to the hospital wing." She guided Neville through the crowd before glaring at the lot of us. "I want each of you to have your feet firmly on the ground. If I see a single broom in the air when I get back, they'd be expelled before you can even say the word "Quidditch"! Come along, boy." 

  Once Neville and Madame Hooch had disappeared out of sight, Draco Malfoy burst out laughing. 

  "Did you see his face, that great big lump?" he laughed. "Maybe if he had given this a bit of a squeeze, he would have remembered to fall on his arse." 

  A few of the Slytherins laughed along with him. Not us Gryffindors, though. 

  "Give it here, Malfoy," said Harry in a quiet voice. 

  Malfoy turned around, sneering at Harry. 

  "No. I think I'll leave this somewhere for Longbottom to find, thanks." And with that, he hopped on his broom and quickly flew away. "How about on the roof? What's the matter, Potter? A bit beyond your reach?"

  Harry sighed, yet he did not look too pleased. But he decided to jump on his broom anyways. 

  "Harry, no way!" said Hermione in an irritated voice. "You heard what Madame Hooch said. And, besides! You don't even know how to fly!" Harry didn't listen. He just rolled his eyes and soared into the air. "What an idiot." 

  Harry soared into the air. I watched anxiously, hoping that this would end soon. 

  "Give it here, Malfoy, or I'll knock you off your broom!" he challenged. 

  Malfoy smirked, calmly catching the Remembrall in his hands. 

  "Is that, so?" he said easily. Harry made a go for it, but Malfoy swerved out of his way. "Have it your way, then." 

  And with that, he tossed the Remembrall into the air. Luckily, Harry managed to catch the thing before it crashed into the window. He safely flew back down. All of us, including me, cheered for Harry's success. At least he didn't get caught by a teacher! But boy, was I wrong. 

  "Harry Potter?" said a voice. 

  We all went silent as Professor McGonagall just stood there. The triumphant smile on all of our faces suddenly slid off. 

"Follow me." 

  Once Harry and Professor McGonagall were out of sight, Draco Malfoy burst out laughing. He had landed on the ground just seconds after Harry did. I turned around and glared at him. 

  "He's supposed to be "The Boy Who Lived"," he mocked. "Not "The Boy Who Got Expelled On His First Day Of School"." 

  He and his goons began to howl with laughter. I, however, had enough. I stormed over, and slapped him across the face. This clearly took everyone by surprise. 

  "Chloe!" said Ron in amazement. 

  "What the bloody hell was that for?" Malfoy hissed. 

  "You say one more word about Harry, and I'll make sure that the next room you'll see next is the hospital wing," I growled defensively. I'd hardly known Harry for one day, but there was no need for anyone to be rude towards him. 

  I began to make another move again, but Ron pulled me back. 

  "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Careful, Chlo. If Madame Hooch sees —"

  "Yeah? I really don't care at the moment. He just insulted our best friend!" 

  "Let's get you calmed down, Chlo," said Ron in a quick voice. "You clearly have some anger issues that you need to control."