It was the another boring day of class for the second-years at
Hogwarts. Same boring teacher, same boring studies, same boring books.
There was little reason why someone shouldn't enjoy Defense Against the
Dark Arts class; that's the only class that did anything worthwhile at
school.
This day was no exception. Being as the original teacher was frightfully ill (someone had slipped a mumps-inducing potion into the poor man's drink), there was obviously going to be a new teacher, but the rumor had it that the substitute teacher was an Auror on vacation. William Skeeves rushed to his first class with all the enthusiasm he could muster.
Upon entering the room, he noticed that everyone was sitting in their seats, unusually quite. No one seemed to even dare to think about speaking, let alone actually executing such an action.
He quickly found his seat and sat down, very well aware that the teacher wasn't present and class was about to start. Where was he? Would he even show? Both seemed to be popular thoughts among the children seated there.
Just then, a girl in the first row gasped. Everyone looked up at the chalkboard, which seemed to be writing, "Good morning, class. Today we will be learning about pixies. Please be ready for your teacher to arrive."
No one needed a second bidding. Everyone bustled about to get their wands, but none were quicker than William. He had his wand and parchment out before most of the children touched theirs.
The door almost burst open behind them. In came a homely man, near his mid twenties, with odd round-rimmed glasses, a simple robe, and hair that was so long the bangs almost touched the upper rim of his glasses. He swept up to the front, putting his books down in an almost clumsy way, and then going to the blackboard, where he began bewitching it to spell out instructions. As he did so, he explained why he was late:
"Sorry I'm late, class, but traffic was murder."
A couple of the students giggled, but William couldn't stand it anymore. Who was this new teacher?
So he formed his question into words. "Sir," he began, "who are you? You didn't introduce yourself."
The new teacher looked behind him at the class. Noticing the child who spoke, he calmly replied, "Sorry about that, Mr.-"
"Skeeves."
"-Skeeves, but there is something else that is a little more important. For instance, who knows how long it's been since Voldemort fell?"
Several children winced when he said this, but a couple children still raised their hands; William among them.
"Yes, Skeeves?" the teacher asked.
"Four years, sir."
"Correct. Though pixies are no where near his measure of strength, everyone has to start somewhere. The world is a dangerous place to the unprepared, so I want you to treat every lesson as if you are practicing to face Voldemort himself!"
Once again, the children winced.
William didn't wait to be called on this time. "Sir, how can you speak his name so freely? It still seems scary, even though he's only in stories now."
Leaning upon the desk, his teacher calmly brushed his bangs out of his face, smiling in a relaxed way, revealing a curious lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.
"Because," his teacher replied, "I am Harry Potter."
This day was no exception. Being as the original teacher was frightfully ill (someone had slipped a mumps-inducing potion into the poor man's drink), there was obviously going to be a new teacher, but the rumor had it that the substitute teacher was an Auror on vacation. William Skeeves rushed to his first class with all the enthusiasm he could muster.
Upon entering the room, he noticed that everyone was sitting in their seats, unusually quite. No one seemed to even dare to think about speaking, let alone actually executing such an action.
He quickly found his seat and sat down, very well aware that the teacher wasn't present and class was about to start. Where was he? Would he even show? Both seemed to be popular thoughts among the children seated there.
Just then, a girl in the first row gasped. Everyone looked up at the chalkboard, which seemed to be writing, "Good morning, class. Today we will be learning about pixies. Please be ready for your teacher to arrive."
No one needed a second bidding. Everyone bustled about to get their wands, but none were quicker than William. He had his wand and parchment out before most of the children touched theirs.
The door almost burst open behind them. In came a homely man, near his mid twenties, with odd round-rimmed glasses, a simple robe, and hair that was so long the bangs almost touched the upper rim of his glasses. He swept up to the front, putting his books down in an almost clumsy way, and then going to the blackboard, where he began bewitching it to spell out instructions. As he did so, he explained why he was late:
"Sorry I'm late, class, but traffic was murder."
A couple of the students giggled, but William couldn't stand it anymore. Who was this new teacher?
So he formed his question into words. "Sir," he began, "who are you? You didn't introduce yourself."
The new teacher looked behind him at the class. Noticing the child who spoke, he calmly replied, "Sorry about that, Mr.-"
"Skeeves."
"-Skeeves, but there is something else that is a little more important. For instance, who knows how long it's been since Voldemort fell?"
Several children winced when he said this, but a couple children still raised their hands; William among them.
"Yes, Skeeves?" the teacher asked.
"Four years, sir."
"Correct. Though pixies are no where near his measure of strength, everyone has to start somewhere. The world is a dangerous place to the unprepared, so I want you to treat every lesson as if you are practicing to face Voldemort himself!"
Once again, the children winced.
William didn't wait to be called on this time. "Sir, how can you speak his name so freely? It still seems scary, even though he's only in stories now."
Leaning upon the desk, his teacher calmly brushed his bangs out of his face, smiling in a relaxed way, revealing a curious lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.
"Because," his teacher replied, "I am Harry Potter."