School was....well...school. It continued as it normally should, same
as it ever was, except for DADA. The teacher was unlike any DADA teacher
Rachel had ever had, and, after being through Quirell, Lockhart, Lupin and
Moody, that was saying a lot. The first class, Professor Randolph was very
precise in saying exactly what was going on. She took her place at a high
stool in the front of the classroom, and waved her wand. The chalk floated
up and began writing on the blackboard in a clear script, while it was
doing this, Randolph spoke.
"This year you vill learn about the inner vorkings of dark vizards. Technically, you should still be learning about various ghosts ghouls and goblins, but, times change, and Professor Dumbledore specifically requested I teach this class." The chalk stopped writing, and the class looked to see three words written across it boldly.
SINGULAR GROUP RIOT
Professor Randolph produced a long pointer from midair, and gestured to the words.
"These," She said, in her squeaky German voice, "these are the different types of vays dark vizards attack. Singular–" She thumped the word hard, "means one dark vizard against you. Most of the time, you can get avay. Group," another thump, "means more than one vizard against you. Usually, they are not as angry as they can get. You should still try and get avay though, so you don't make them mad. When they get more of their friends, and get very mad, they form a riot," thump, "riots are very hard to stop, and usually, at least one person is killed. Man, voman or child, it doesn't matter. If you are in a riot, it is a crises, and you should try to leave immediately, and contact the ministry of magic. Basically, ve vill be discussing the way a dark vizard's mind works. There vill be lectures, and you are encouraged to take notes, as you vill have your O.V.L.s at the end of the year."
Once they got out of the class, Ron was in a sour mood.
"She's just like a mini-McGonagall with a German accent. She's all 'study my note because you vill have a test on them in you O.V.L.s!' We don't have O.V.L.s or whatever she called them."
"She meant O.W.L.s Ron, and I found the class very informative. We should learn a lot this year." Hermione said, full of awe.
"I want to know why she twitches!" Rachel stopped to adjust her book bag.
"What a question." Harry remarked as they stopped in front of the transfiguration classroom. "What a question."
Quidditch auditions quickly approached. The last few days before- hand, Rachel found she could not sleep. Rachel also didn't know wether it was good or bad that the auditions fell exactly on Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish new year. Rachel tossed and turned, and finally, was woken by the light streaming through her window.
"Happy new year." She said, devoid of emotion, to no one in particular.
"New year?" Lavender was awake. That caused Rachel to start and nearly fall out of bed. "How can it be the new year in September?"
"Jewish new year, Lavender."
"You have your own new year?"
"Yes. Why are you awake so early?" Rachel sat up in bed, and Lavender did the same. They stared at each other in the half-light, over the slumbering, and in Hermione's case, lightly snoring, of their two other roommates.
"I could ask you the same question."
"I have one word. Quidditch."
"Oh." Lavender's eyes started darting about the room. "I have a one word problem too."
"What's that?"
"Do you promise not to tell?" Lavender looked like she was going to cry.
"I promise." Rachel was worried.
"Seamus." And with that, Lavender flopped back into bed, and muffled sobs could be heard.
Rachel sucked in her breath, decided it was best not to further question, and got out of bed. She went to her trunk, slipped on her glass shoes, and danced until everyone else awoke.
Rachel was antsy from waiting. She was filled with nerves for the whole day, barely paying attention in class. McGonagall noticed it, Rachel was sure, because the kerchiefs they were turning to kittens always seemed to be covered with cat hair in Rachel's case. The only class she managed to stay calm in was advanced potions, and that was because she had too. She was working with Lee Jordan, who understood her dilemma. Fred and George sat next to them, and were also sympathetic, one of the only times in their lives, too.
"Nervous?" Lee asked as he measured out some bubotuber pus.
"Yeah." Rachel put the pus to boil, which would caramelize it and create part of the serum they needed. "Really nervous."
"Poor dear." Fred said, as he pretended to douse George with pus.
"WEASLEYS!" Snape yelled. "FIVE POINTS FROM GRYFFINDOR! EACH!"
"That makes how much?" George whispered, pretending to count on his fingers.
"I think it means one for each gallon of grease you could squeeze out of his hair."
"You mean twenty three? Nah....I don't think so. Anyway Rachel, you shouldn't worry." George placed his caramelized pus in the cauldron that was off the heat.
"Well, I'm just–I just really want to make it, you know?" Rachel added some cream of newt to her potion, and stirred it.
"Yeah, we know, but you shouldn't worry. We are all rooting for you." Fred peered into his potion. "George, I think you cooked the pus too long."
"Aren't you guys supposed to be impartial?" Lee peered into his potion as well, but sighed with relief.
"Yeah but, you know us, Rachel and us go waaay back. I mean, without her, we wouldn't have been able to pull off a pretty nice caper. Remember?"
"How could I forget?" But Rachel was laughing too much to be worried for the rest of the class.
There was a letter waiting for her when she got back to her room after dinner, getting ready for the audition. It was a simple note, but it filled Rachel with joy to read. It went like this:
Fred and George told me the auditions were today. I figured that you might be a little nervous, but we're all rooting for you. You were a great reserve keeper, and I'm sure you will be a wonder keeper for the team. Best Wishes of Luck,
Oliver
Rachel smiled, folded it up, then got her broom and went out to the Quidditch pitch.
"This year you vill learn about the inner vorkings of dark vizards. Technically, you should still be learning about various ghosts ghouls and goblins, but, times change, and Professor Dumbledore specifically requested I teach this class." The chalk stopped writing, and the class looked to see three words written across it boldly.
SINGULAR GROUP RIOT
Professor Randolph produced a long pointer from midair, and gestured to the words.
"These," She said, in her squeaky German voice, "these are the different types of vays dark vizards attack. Singular–" She thumped the word hard, "means one dark vizard against you. Most of the time, you can get avay. Group," another thump, "means more than one vizard against you. Usually, they are not as angry as they can get. You should still try and get avay though, so you don't make them mad. When they get more of their friends, and get very mad, they form a riot," thump, "riots are very hard to stop, and usually, at least one person is killed. Man, voman or child, it doesn't matter. If you are in a riot, it is a crises, and you should try to leave immediately, and contact the ministry of magic. Basically, ve vill be discussing the way a dark vizard's mind works. There vill be lectures, and you are encouraged to take notes, as you vill have your O.V.L.s at the end of the year."
Once they got out of the class, Ron was in a sour mood.
"She's just like a mini-McGonagall with a German accent. She's all 'study my note because you vill have a test on them in you O.V.L.s!' We don't have O.V.L.s or whatever she called them."
"She meant O.W.L.s Ron, and I found the class very informative. We should learn a lot this year." Hermione said, full of awe.
"I want to know why she twitches!" Rachel stopped to adjust her book bag.
"What a question." Harry remarked as they stopped in front of the transfiguration classroom. "What a question."
Quidditch auditions quickly approached. The last few days before- hand, Rachel found she could not sleep. Rachel also didn't know wether it was good or bad that the auditions fell exactly on Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish new year. Rachel tossed and turned, and finally, was woken by the light streaming through her window.
"Happy new year." She said, devoid of emotion, to no one in particular.
"New year?" Lavender was awake. That caused Rachel to start and nearly fall out of bed. "How can it be the new year in September?"
"Jewish new year, Lavender."
"You have your own new year?"
"Yes. Why are you awake so early?" Rachel sat up in bed, and Lavender did the same. They stared at each other in the half-light, over the slumbering, and in Hermione's case, lightly snoring, of their two other roommates.
"I could ask you the same question."
"I have one word. Quidditch."
"Oh." Lavender's eyes started darting about the room. "I have a one word problem too."
"What's that?"
"Do you promise not to tell?" Lavender looked like she was going to cry.
"I promise." Rachel was worried.
"Seamus." And with that, Lavender flopped back into bed, and muffled sobs could be heard.
Rachel sucked in her breath, decided it was best not to further question, and got out of bed. She went to her trunk, slipped on her glass shoes, and danced until everyone else awoke.
Rachel was antsy from waiting. She was filled with nerves for the whole day, barely paying attention in class. McGonagall noticed it, Rachel was sure, because the kerchiefs they were turning to kittens always seemed to be covered with cat hair in Rachel's case. The only class she managed to stay calm in was advanced potions, and that was because she had too. She was working with Lee Jordan, who understood her dilemma. Fred and George sat next to them, and were also sympathetic, one of the only times in their lives, too.
"Nervous?" Lee asked as he measured out some bubotuber pus.
"Yeah." Rachel put the pus to boil, which would caramelize it and create part of the serum they needed. "Really nervous."
"Poor dear." Fred said, as he pretended to douse George with pus.
"WEASLEYS!" Snape yelled. "FIVE POINTS FROM GRYFFINDOR! EACH!"
"That makes how much?" George whispered, pretending to count on his fingers.
"I think it means one for each gallon of grease you could squeeze out of his hair."
"You mean twenty three? Nah....I don't think so. Anyway Rachel, you shouldn't worry." George placed his caramelized pus in the cauldron that was off the heat.
"Well, I'm just–I just really want to make it, you know?" Rachel added some cream of newt to her potion, and stirred it.
"Yeah, we know, but you shouldn't worry. We are all rooting for you." Fred peered into his potion. "George, I think you cooked the pus too long."
"Aren't you guys supposed to be impartial?" Lee peered into his potion as well, but sighed with relief.
"Yeah but, you know us, Rachel and us go waaay back. I mean, without her, we wouldn't have been able to pull off a pretty nice caper. Remember?"
"How could I forget?" But Rachel was laughing too much to be worried for the rest of the class.
There was a letter waiting for her when she got back to her room after dinner, getting ready for the audition. It was a simple note, but it filled Rachel with joy to read. It went like this:
Fred and George told me the auditions were today. I figured that you might be a little nervous, but we're all rooting for you. You were a great reserve keeper, and I'm sure you will be a wonder keeper for the team. Best Wishes of Luck,
Oliver
Rachel smiled, folded it up, then got her broom and went out to the Quidditch pitch.
