Days passed with nothing much happening. I began to make new friends, and I was quite happy - other than Malfoy bugging us. On one early morning, I awoke to a drilling sound.
I found out that it was actually Mia who was making upgrades for the lights. She told me that the lights would be automatic after she tweaked the wires and stuff when anyone came into the dorm. She seemed into technology. I was too. Stephanie was into sports, and Alex was liked reading - like me. We had many similarities between us.
"Mia!" I said. "Can you do this another time? Alex and Stephanie are still asleep. And we're in the same dorm."
"But I'm almost done!" Mia complained. "Just a few more minutes?"
"Fine." I gave in.
"Yes!" Mia whispered to herself.
I glanced at the clock. It was nice enough for Mia to make us one. It was almost 8 o'clock. Reading sessions started at 8:30 sharp. "Alex, Stephanie! Wake up!" I said.
"What's the time?" Alex asked sleepily.
"Almost 8," Mia said for me.
"Already?!" Stephanie shrieked. In a rush, both of the girls dressed up. We went down to the Gryffindor Common room and into the Great Hall for breakfast.
When we entered, Alex, Stephanie, and Mia hurriedly ate their breakfasts. I was reading Cinderella while I was eating.
"Must you always be reading?" Ron complained.
"First of all, it's none of your business minding my business, and second of all, I can read if I want to. At least all you know is to stuff your mouth like a pig." I retorted.
Ron turned pink in the face.
"Come on, girls. We have reading sessions after 10 minutes." Alex said, looking at her watch.
Once upon a time…" Professor McGonagall said to us in reading class. Unlike other professors, she was the only professor who taught two subjects, while the others only taught one. "These are the most magical words our world has ever known and the gateway into the greatest stories ever told. They're an immediate calling to anyone who hears them—a calling into a world where everyone is welcome and anything can happen. Mice can become men, maids can become princesses, and they can teach valuable lessons in the process.
Alex and I eagerly sat straight up in our seats. We usually enjoyed Professor McGonagall's lessons, but this was something especially close to our hearts.
"Fairy tales are much more than silly bedtime stories," Professor McGonagall continued. "The solution to almost every problem imaginable can be found in the outcome of a fairy tale. Fairy tales are life lessons disguised with colorful characters and situations. "
'The Boy Who Cried Wolf ' teaches us the value of a good reputation and the power of honesty. 'Cinderella' shows us the rewards of having a good heart. 'The Ugly Duckling' teaches us the meaning of inner beauty."
Alex and I nodded in unison. The way the other students stared at their teacher - except for Mia, Stephanie, and Harry - as if the lesson being taught were in another language, was something Professor McGonagall had never grown accustomed to. So, Professor McGonagall would often direct entire lessons to the front row, where 'Understanding Students' sat.
"Sadly, these timeless tales are no longer relevant in our society," Professor McGonagall said. "We have traded their brilliant teachings for small-minded entertainment like the use of magic. We don't pay attention to the moral each fairy tale is intended to teach, but instead, we just read them as to how we would read a normal story."
"I wonder if the world would be a different place if everyone knew these tales in the way the Brothers Grimm and Hans Christian Andersen intended them to be known," Professor McGonagall said. "I wonder if people would learn from the Little Mermaid's heartbreak when she dies at the end of her real story. I wonder if there would be so many kidnappings if children were shown the true dangers that Little Red Riding Hood faced. I wonder if delinquents would be so inclined to misbehave if they knew about the consequences Goldilocks caused for herself with the Three Bears."
Unfortunately, all that followed her classes was a mutual sigh of relief among the students, thankful that they were over. "Let's see how well you all know your fairy tales," the teacher said with a smile and began pacing the room. "In 'Rumpelstiltskin,' what did the young maiden's father tell the king that his daughter could spin hay into? Does anyone know?"
Mrs. Peters scanned the classroom like a shark looking for wounded fish. Only one student raised her hand.
"Yes, Miss Granger?" Mrs. Peters called.
I wondered why Alex didn't raise her hand. She usually did.
"He claimed she could spin hay into gold," Alex said.
"Very good, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said.
I was always eager to please. I was the definition of a bookworm. It didn't matter what time of day it was—before school, during school, after school, before bed—I was always reading. I had a thirst for knowledge and, because of it, I was usually the first person to answer any professor's questions.
I tried my best to impress my classmates with every chance I got, putting extra effort into each book report and class presentation I was assigned. However, this usually annoyed the other students, and I was often teased for it by other people (except for Stephanie, Mia, and Alex.)
"Now, can anyone tell me what the compromise was that the maiden made with Rumpelstiltskin?" Professor McGonagall asked.
This time, Alex raised her hand.
"Yes, Miss Bailey?"
"In exchange for turning the hay into gold, the maiden promised to give Rumpelstiltskin her firstborn child when she became queen," Alex explained.
"That's a pretty steep deal," said a boy behind me.
"What's a creepy old short man want with a baby anyway?" a girl next to him asked.
"Obviously, he couldn't adapt with a name like Rumpelstiltskin," another student added.
"Did he eat the baby?" someone else asked nervously.
I turned around to face my clueless peers.
"You're all missing the point of the story," I said. "Rumpelstiltskin took advantage of the maiden because she was in need. The story is about the price of a bad negotiation. What are we willing to give up long-term in the future for something short-term in the present? Get it?"
If Professor McGonagall could change her facial expression, she would have looked very proud. "Nicely put, Miss Granger," she said. "I must say, in all my years of teaching, I've rarely come across a pupil with as much in-depth knowledge as—"
A loud snore suddenly came from the back of the classroom. A boy in the back row was slouched over his desk and drooling from the corner of his mouth, very much asleep.
Alex had a twin brother, and it was moments like these that made her wish she didn't.
"Mr. Bailey?" Professor McGonagall asked.
He continued to snore.
"Mr. Bailey?" Professor McGonagall asked again, kneeling down closer to him.
He let out another enormous snore. A few of the students wondered how it was possible for such a loud noise to come out of him.
"Mr. Bailey!" Professor McGonagall shouted in his ear. As if someone had lit a firework under his seat, Conner Bailey jumped back to life, almost knocking his desk over.
"Where am I? What happened?" Conner asked in a panicked state of confusion. His eyes darted around the room while his brain tried to remember where he was.
I knew that Alex couldn't have been more embarrassed by her brother. Besides sharing looks and birth dates, she and her brother couldn't have been more different. Conner, unlike his sister, had trouble in school… mostly trouble staying awake.
"I'm so glad you could rejoin us, Mr. Bailey," Professor McGonagall said sternly. "Did you have a nice nap?"
Conner turned bright red.
Conner turned bright red. "I'm so sorry, Professor McGonagall," he apologized, trying to be as genuine as possible. "Sometimes when you talk for long periods of time, I doze off. No offense. I can't help it."
"You fall asleep in my class at least twice a week," Professor McGonagall reminded him.
Yeah, so the class was basically like that.
After the class was over... "For homework," Mrs. Peters said, and the room unanimously slumped in their seats, "you are to pick your favorite fairy tale and write a paper, due tomorrow, on the real lesson the tale is trying to teach us."