I don't like Professor McGonagall, I've come to that decision very early on. She smiles so widely, and speaks in a manner as though she wishes to befriend the students. I don't buy it. I don't trust someone with those kinds of motivations. I have no doubt that given the slightest opportunity she will snap, and her true face will show. Well, that's of no problem to me. I will not make the mistake of involving myself with her.

"You are quite literally one in a thousand, I'd urge you to think about that for a second. I'm sure you all have different motivations for wishing to join this place, but worry not, everything that was advertised, everything that has been said – it is all true. This is a project fostered by The Ministry as if it were its own child. A completely unique education system. The kind that has never been before seen in history. And so, it stands to reason that what you can achieve from here would be out of the normal, doesn't it?"

In her words, she's offering hope, and these animals around me are falling for it. Their eyes are lighting up, and they're struggling to hold back their smiles. No doubt they're excited. They think they will be able to achieve whatever goal it is that they have. They think this is the answer. They're in for a grim reality. As so many people were crushed in the entrance exam, so many more will be crushed here. Hoping and believing the words that you're being told is the height of stupidity.

I wonder how these people would react – those that are so full of goals and aspirations – if they found out why I decided to apply. I almost burst out laughing thinking about it. I quickly swallow that laughter however, as it likely seems that I'm suppressing a smile, and so I look just like them – disgusting.

"There are lots of things you will have to learn whilst here. Lots of things that you will have to experience – things that make you uncomfortable. But you will be fine. That is what the entrance exam is in place for, you are quite capable of achieving what needs to be done. However, of course, some of you are more capable than others."

She paused there, thinking she was a master of creating suspense, it was quite pathetic really.

"Would you like to know which of you performed best on the entrance exam tests?"

There was a little smile on her face as she asked that. She was enjoying it. That was her true nature. Of course, it was. Else she wouldn't be able to deal with her responsibilities as a teacher in this place. But by this point, I was smiling too. Already this school was different from others. Within minutes of being in the classroom, the teacher was seeking to establish a hierarchy.

When I was forced into compulsory education - at the school I went to - what people scored on an exam was usually kept hidden, unless they themselves wanted for it to be shared. Such a system is quite obviously flawed. Those who perform well should have their scores forecast so they might be congratulated, and those who do poorly should be ridiculed. It seems obvious that such a system would bring out the best results. Unless someone was especially weak minded, and the pressure from their failings going public rendered them suicidal.

"Please stand up then, and move beside the window. When I call your name, please sit behind the desk that I am pointing to. Names are sorted in order of score achieved."

She made it explicit how we were to judge each other, and everyone followed her commands obediently. I noticed as I stood against the window that very few people were willing to stand beside me. I felt sorry for them in a way, as I knew myself to be smelling particularly fine on that day, and they were undoubtedly missing out.

In their little eyes their fear was obvious. Any ranking system or hierarchy was bound to create some sort of disparity between you and your peers. It would make their future attempts at socialising more complicated, as none of them had made any friends quite yet.

Professor McGonagall was truly taking her time. She had several sheets of paper spread across her desk, and she was fumbling as if to find which one. It was an act. She'd already revealed her true face. She was extracting pleasure from leaving these animals in fear and tension.

I let out a sigh. Her games had gone on far too long. I will be the hero that this class needs, and move things forward, so that they don't have to dwell in misery for so long. I take a step back from the window, and admire my muscular reflection. Even without a pump, it was very fine indeed. The room was rather quiet now. They were all too nervous to speak. And it seemed that me – who was standing a few steps away from the others – was attracting quite the deal of attention.

I turn back around, and it seems Professor McGonagall has her beady little eyes pinned on me as well. She's not wondering what I'm doing. She's challenging me. Both of us know where I will be sitting.

As I wander over, and casually draw back the first seat – in the top left side of the room – a chirping bird finally understands my intentions, and seeks to interrupt.

"What do you think you're doing? Professor McGonagall hasn't read anyone's name out yet – don't you think you're being too disrespectful?"

Yet again she deems it appropriate to speak out against me. I afford her the full weight of my stare, and a light smile. She's flustered, no doubt. I think we all understand the reason why – she wanted this seat for herself. They all do. But no one was ready to admit it. Can you imagine the arrogance that comes along with you believing that you've even got a slight chance of being the best amongst your peers?

"Disrespectful? Heavens no. Professor McGonagall has lost the list. I'm helping her to remember its order."

Earlier, I think I might have undervalued her. She lacks a large chest, but it is not as though it doesn't exist. She is quite pretty indeed.

She's looking towards the teacher for support, pleading, but good old McGonagall shows no signs of interfering. In fact, she seems to quite like the idea of having her students argue. Oh, now she's found the list. She holds it up, as she taps her head, acting out her supposed forgetfulness. And then she takes her time to find the right name, using her finger as she slowly reads it.

Everyone within this classroom wants for the name to not be my own. I'm sure they've remembered it by now, who I am. Harry Potter. Even if they didn't want to, they know. They mistake my assuredness for arrogance. It is not. I simply know myself. Is there anyone that can beat a perfect score?

"Ronald Weasley."

She reads out innocently. I make no moves to change my seat, nor do I let any emotion filter out.

"Hah, you had better move, Harry. Unless you claim to be called Ronald now?"

The bird lashes out, pleased that the top scorer was not me, but still bitter that it wasn't her. The boy called Ronald strides out from the window confidently, his chest puffed out, and a wide smile on his face. He walks his way up behind me, and dares to tap my shoulder.

"Excuse me, Harry, but this seems to be my seat."

I take one look at him, and hold back a snort. He doesn't like that, not one bit. His cheeks flush red, and he grows angry at my deliberate provocation.

Thank you.

(Edit: Typo)