I know it hasn't been all that long, but I had to upload this one. The conflict deepens between Angel and David, and we discover something more about Angel's past. (Hey, guess what's weird about this? This is the actual me! Well, with the few tweaks Aeolus did to the both of us, of course. Yeah, I really did try and beat up a guy.)

David's personality has been aged a little, courtesy of my imagination and his thoughts of what he'll be like. Well, here it is: Tuesday Class!

Disclaimer: All copyrights and affiliates pertaining to Harry Potter are the products of J. K. Rowling and her printing companies. Anything you recognize from the series is not mine. Aeolus was a Greek god, so therefore, he is also not mine. However, his personality and reasoning are solely David's and a little of mine. OURS, I TELL YOU! Heh heh, read on.

Chapter 6: Tuesday Class

"David! Wake up, we're gonna be late!" Ron shook me and I glared at him a moment before leaping up to get dressed. I noticed that it was only him and Harry and me left in the room. Dean, Seamus, and Neville had gone.

The first class on our schedule was McGonagall's. Transfiguration, with the Ravenclaws.

Instead of going to sleep last night, like smart people, the five of us boys had stayed awake and talked. I learned more from them that night than any of the sessions in which my sister would read to me.

On top of things like favorite colors and parents and parts of the world, I also learned something else. They were people, each of them, with a different story to tell. Just because this was the Harry Potter world, I realized, didn't mean that the whole world revolved around Harry. In fact, aside from the occasional stare at the neat, three-angled lightning bolt on his forehead, Harry was just the average guy. A lot like me, actually.

My sister, of course, had long ago realized this. She said that, to her, the characters in books and in fan fiction were real people, even without having to meet them in person. She said it was like a pen pal or e-pal.

Up till now, to me, they had been characters in a book, characters who had horrible scenes and great scenes and funny scenes. But now...we were all people on a journey to learn all that we could in the same walk of life.

Running toward Transfiguration, I knew I felt everything. These were people, people I could talk to, be late to class with, make excuses for late homework, befriend, hurt, be hurt by, make laugh, or joke around.

The bell rang. We burst into the classroom, and saw no sign of Professor McGonagall. Angel and Hermione were both seated at the head of the class.
Angel was taking notes from the book. She always did that. It was the same thing, every year, from what I'd gathered from her friends. Read the textbook, take notes on the current chapter, notes on the teacher's lecture. There was one major difference I had ever seen between her and Hermione when it came to class.

Angel never answered a single question. She would sit in her seat, taking notes, the answer on her paper before anyone could say it, but she never answered aloud.

As I made my way to the nearest empty table, I saw a cat on the desk. I sat down as quick as I could, hoping she hadn't seen. It was in vain.

McGonagall appeared, looming over me, Harry, and Ron. Suddenly, I wished I hadn't sat down.

"Brilliant, Professor," Ron tried to sweet-talk her.

"I'm glad you think so, Mr. Weasley," she said sternly, not sounding glad at all. "Sit down." She said it a bit to sharply, scaring Harry and Ron into their seats like quivering little mice.

"As I was saying," she said. "Transfiguration is a very difficult subject, one few wizards master in totality. It is very advanced magic to be able to transfigure yourself, as I have just demonstrated in my Animagus form.

"We will begin with simple things. There is a separate spell for each physical attribute of an object. Color, shape, and smell, for example. Today, we will be attempting to change a match into a needle. In order to first change it's shape..."
I did not take any notes at all on her lecture. After all, I'd never needed them before, why start now? Harry and Ron had notes, but very vague ones. Things that would probably only jog their memories. Or maybe they just wanted to seem to be listening.

When it was time to change my match into a needle, my mind was blank. How was I supposed to do this again?

I opened my book and started reading.

The shape of objects is often made by tapping it, and imagining precisely the way you need the object shaped. Forget in totality the original shape of the object whilst you look at it...

How was I supposed to forget what the match looked like in order to make it into a needle?

I touched my wand to the match. Was that end sharper? Only a little.

I decided to go for color, an attribute I had mastered already.

"Argentina!"

At least it was a silver match now.

I continued tapping it. By the end of class, I'd gotten the little thread hole in place and a rather dull point, but at least it looked like a stone-age needle.

My sister and Hermione, however...

"Indeed, two marvelous sewing needles. Five points each to Griffindor!" McGonagall gave them her rare full smile.

The bell gave its rang.

I grimaced at the very sound of the next class. How could I ever manage to stay awake in the History of Magic class, with the ghost teacher, Binns, droning on and on and on?

Tired as I was, I was a bit shocked at how quickly Professor Binns jumped into the lesson. As soon as the bell rang for students to be in class, he started in on his droning speech.

Hermione and Angel were both hard at work, taking notes, but the rest of the class melted into a stupor within ten minutes. Obviously, this class was not going to be fun at all. About the equivalent of history in my sister's eyes. She had always hated history, in any kind. Said that the past should be left to the historians and archaeologists and the ones who wanted to learn from past mistakes, like Pearl Harbor and such.

My brother and I had been very into history, actually, especially World War Two. I can still name off nearly every plane that reigned in that time frame. Especially the ones that attacked Pearl Harbor, Hirashima, and Germany.

Let's just leave it at this; the only people who will get any kind of good marks in History of Magic were two people. Obviously, Angel and Hermione.

The third thing that day was lunch. After lunch, we had two more classes, but I'll get to those later.

"I can't believe you were late this morning," Angel scolded me when she sat down opposite me. "It was at nine o'clock. How many times have I told you that?"

Too many. "I don't know. I'm sorry, okay?"
"It's no wonder you couldn't read before," she muttered under her breath. She didn't mean for me to hear, but I did.

"It's not like it was my fault..."
"I know that, I'm sorry," she held her head a moment. "I'm sorry, babe, I don't know what's come over me lately."
"It's all right," I smiled, but I think she knew it wasn't in my heart.

"We've got a free class next," Angel said, smiling. "We can explore the castle a bit, at least that way we won't get lost. We don't have any homework yet, except maybe to study Dark Arts."
"Yeah. I can always do that later."

Angel looked stern a moment, but dropped it.
"I know!" she said excitedly. "Let's go see Hagrid!"
"Yeah, that'd be nice," I smiled. "Let's ask Harry and Ron along."
"And Hermione."

"Okay, yeah."

So, having finished with our lunch, the five of us walked down to Hagrid's hut and knocked on the door. I was surprised to see how small the hut was, even for a person like me to live in, let alone the enormous Hagrid.

"Good morning!" Hagrid smiled as he saw us. "I was gonna ask you to come down for tea on Friday, Harry, I didn't expect you to come down on yer own."
"Neither did I," Harry shrugged with a smile.

"Angel suggested it," I said, glancing at her.
"Angel, eh?" Hagrid smiled a bit. "Americans sure know how to name their kids."
Angel blushed again. I wondered if that was bad for her at all, to blush to much, I mean.

"Actually, it's a nickname," I put in. "Her real name's Sarah, but-"
"-but my mom let me change my name legally to Angel," she interrupted, giving me another stern glare. I cursed my slippery tongue. "David, can I speak with you outside a moment?" I felt very much like a puppy as I followed her out the door.

"Babe, I know you're new at this secret thing, but you've got to keep this tight," Angel whispered fiercely. "You have no idea what will happen if word gets out about-"
"If word gets out about what?" asked the last voice I wanted to hear.

"H-Hello," Angel stammered.

"It appears the angel can speak," said the snake-tongued serpent. Draco Malfoy stood before my sister and me, alone, for once. "And such a musical one at that."
"Malfoy!" Harry growled from the doorway, stomping toward us.

"Hello, Potter. I see you did not heed my advice. Still with Weasley and the Muggle," he said.

"Make that three Muggles," I exclaimed sharply. "My sister and I are both Muggle-born." I could see, very plainly, that his voice was effecting Angel strangely. It was as if he had placed a very strong spell on her.
"Ah," said Malfoy. "There are always exceptions." He turned and marched across the lawn, and I say good riddance.
"Don't tell me that's the Slytherin that 'seemed nice' on the train?" I asked incredulously. No wonder she had been so weird lately.

"Unfortunately," she muttered.

The last class of the day was thankfully cancelled. It had been Potions, with the Slytherins. Fortunately, something had exploded in the dungeons in which Snape usually taught and our class then was cancelled, too.

I went to sleep that night early, hoping I would be up early so I could get to the first class the next morning. Unfortunately for me and every other first year in Griffindor, that class was Potions too.

***

Cut off a day before the Potions class? I don't think so! I'm uploading the next chapter! Oh, and the climax of the conflict is reached in this chapter, too.