A/N: English class with the ebullient Dr. Flitwick, and then... Humanities, in which several more characters are introduced! Ending with homeroom with Ms. McGonagall, this chapter concludes Harry's first school day. Thanks to those who have reviewed so far! (And yes, Lav Brown's NY accent, the fact that she's starring in ALICE in Wonderland, is not random *smirk*)
Disclaimer: I own neither Potterverse characters nor Beatrice nor Benedick. See, not being English, I can't possibly be either JKR or Shakespeare. Big duh-ism.
~*~
"Welcome to another magnificent day of English Literature!" Dr. Flitwick had a very squeaky voice when he was excited, and his face, crowned with snowy hair, was all smiles as he craned his neck to look at all the students. "It shall be my pleasure and honour to bring you through the marvels of Milton and the bravura of the Brontes! And..." Flitwick paused, glancing at his class list, "It seems as though we have with us a new student! Another addition to this grand group of scholars! Mr. Potter, is it?"
Harry squirmed slightly and nodded, "Er, yes."
"Wonderful!" Flitwick beamed at him, and pointed towards a chair next to a bored-looking girl with dark hair. "Next to Miss Turpin, if you please!"
Harry slid into his assigned seat, and without further ado, the teacher launched into the day's topic. "And how many of you have done the assigned reading for today?"
The majority gave various grunts and nods of affirmation, and Flitwick beamed, clapping his hands. "Splendid! And who, then, shall volunteer to play the parts that we'd not gotten to yesterday?"
Now, most students arranged to be looking into their bookbags or at their fingernails. But one boy, his medium blond hair brushing his shoulders and a pair of gilt-framed glasses perched on his nose, raised a hand.
"Ah, Steven Cornfoot!" Flitwick's grin widened to Halloween pumpkin proportions, "Excellent of you to volunteer! Miss Brocklehurst, if you would play opposite him?"
A girl with black hair and slightly tanned skin gave a noncommittal shrug, and opened her book. Steven Cornfoot set his own, closed, upon his desk, and gave the girl a charming grin.
"What, my dear Lady Disdain, are you yet living?"
Brocklehurst rolled her eyes slightly at Cornfoot's slightly impudent expression, and read her own lines. "Is it possible disdain should die while she hath such meet food to feed it as Signior Benedick? Courtesy itself must convert to disdain, if you come in her presence."
"Then is courtesy a turncoat. But it is certain I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted: and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart; for, truly, I love none." Steven Cornfoot continued glibly, rising from his desk and giving Brocklehurst a debonair sort of look. Harry assumed that it was part of the role he was playing, which he evidently knew by heart.
"A dear happiness to women: they would else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God and my cold blood, I am of your humour for that: I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me." Brocklehurst gave Cornfoot a veiled glare, and continued to read in a snippy voice. The girl next to Harry gave a slight snort of amusement.
As Cornfoot and Brocklehurst continued their Benedick-and-Beatrice banter, Turpin turned towards Harry with a slight smirk. "Think Mandy and Steven should just stop and kiss already?"
Harry did not venture any opinions on this... In his old school, no students used Shakespeare as a means of flirting. At least, no one beyond a particularly pedantic kid named Dudley who sent a girl the ever-clichéd and ever-overused "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day" sonnet. That particular painful-to-behold event had served as a warning to others to avoid using the Bard as a means of wooing.
And yet, as Mandy Brocklehurst, a haughty expression on her face, concluded the exchange with "You always end with a jade's trick: I know you of old," and pointedly ignored the brilliant, wide grin that Steven Cornfoot beamed her way (though she flushed slightly), Harry reflected that perhaps Turpin, whatever her first name was, had a point.
Not that he'd want to see the two making out in class right after lunch or anything!
~*~
After English class, in which Steven Cornfoot, evidently a bit of a literature whiz, dominated both recitations and discussions with his wit and wisdom, Harry was met once again by the door by Hermione Granger, who was looking more benevolent and upbeat than she'd been all day. A glance at the stack of books and binders she held in her hands gave the reason why. On top of "Pre-Calculus Topics: 3rd Edition" was a rather difficult-looking test, with a cheerful red-pen "53/50" marked by Hermione's neatly printed name.
"So, how has your day been, so far?" Hermione asked breezily as she led him (not death-gripping his arm this time, to his immense relief) down the hallway towards Humanities. "Enjoy your classes?"
"They're all right," Harry replied, wondering why Hermione, who was apparently in the same year as he was, took Pre-Calculus rather than the standard Geometry. "There's a kid named Steven Cornfoot in Flitwick's class who's apparently quite the English geek."
Hermione laughed lightly, "Steven is a sweet boy. He plans to major in English, I think... and he's going to Stanford." At the mention of that college, her expression brightened even more.
"Oh?" Harry gave a look of polite interest, "And what about you?"
"I think I'm going to Stanford as well," she replied, her expression now downright dreamy, "Although I think I'm going into Business. I love math, you see... and I remember last year, as a freshman, I took accelerated geometry and Percy tutored me and..." she trailed off, recalling herself. "Well. Yes. Percy was the student council president in his year... he's graduated now, though, but he did very well, 1800 SATs and everything... he's also at Stanford."
So Miss Prim-and-Professional apparently had hormones after all. Harry made a mental note that this Percy individual must be a force to be reckoned with.
Hermione left him at the classroom of a Ms. C. Sinistra, and floated down the hallway in a state of equation-induced euphoria.
~*~
Humanities, unlike most of his other classes, was an elective open to students of all years, and could be used to fulfill a liberal arts enrichment requirement for graduation. Therefore, when Harry walked into the quiet, dreamy Ms. Sinistra's classroom, he was greeted by a far more diverse crowd than that in any of his other classes.
Perched on the top of a desk in the corner, a smirk on his face, was the Terence Higgs fellow that Hermione had spazzed at earlier in the day. He was talking in low tones to a girl in a red vintage blouse and a long white fringed skirt, her brown hair cut to an inch below her chin. Though it was quite apparent that Terence was flirting, the girl's response was harder to gauge, although she WAS turned somewhat away from Harry. Close by sat two other boys, attired similar to Terence. The more cynical-looking of the two seemed busy sketching or writing, the fluorescent light from the ceiling glinting off the silver hoop in one ear, while the other appeared to be leafing through the textbook.
Harry introduced himself to Ms. Sinistra, who gave him a vague smile and waved him to a seat towards the middle of the room, right next to a blonde girl in a flowing blue babydoll dress, thumbing through a copy of the script of "Alice In Wonderland".
She looked up with through mascara-drenched eyelashes at him, and daintily introduced herself as Lavender Brown. "And what might your name be?" Her voice had a slight accent, as if she'd come from New York City.
"I'm Harry," he replied, peering at her flawlessly manicured hand before giving it a slight shake. "I'm new."
"Well yes, I know ithat/i," she grinned slightly, "I've never seen you before."
A few more students trickled in, a boy with longish dark hair and a guitar case sitting down behind Harry. As the bell rang and the last student, the camera-carrying Colin that Harry had seen earlier, rushed in, Ms. Sinistra started to take attendance.
From Lavender Brown, to the boy with the guitar (Roger Davies), through Terence Higgs and his friends (the Warrington and Montague that Hermione had most ominously threatened to 'get her hands on' earlier), to the girl Terence had been flirting with (by the name of Alicia Spinnet)... Sinistra slowly went through the list, and added Harry to the end of it.
Harry, glancing from Lavender's drama script to Davies' guitar to to Colin's camera to Alicia's sketchbook, received a firm impression that he might be one of the few not-particularly-artsy students in the class.
He meekly buried himself in his textbook and listened to Sinistra's whispery lecturing about Hellenistic Greek sculpture.
~*~
As Harry put away his rambly notes from Humanities class, he saw the now-familiar head of voluminous brown hair at the door of Sinistra's classroom. Hermione, still in her good mood, smiled at him in greeting. "Now, to homeroom."
"Is he with us, then?" Lavender Brown's voice was elegant, if rather disinterested, as she gazed from Harry to Hermione.
"Yes, he is," Hermione answered for Harry, before turning away from the other girl to look at Harry. "I see you've made the acquaintance of Lavender, then." Hermione didn't seem to be particularly close to Lavender, though there wasn't any great antagonism. "She's starring in the next play that the drama department is putting on."
Lavender patted her blonde ringlets and flushed, more with pride than with embarrassment. Harry politely congratulated her, not knowing what else to say. Although, to be sure, Lavender didn't seem to expect much in the way of conversation from him.
Hermione led him along the hallway, back towards the science wing that he'd been in for Biology earlier that day. "McGonagall teaches Physics," she informed him, "I have class with her when you have Humanities."
"A few of the boys have crushes on her," Lavender continued for Hermione, wrinkling her delicate little nose. "She's OLD..."
Hermione gave Lavender a slightly reproachful look, as if to say that McGonagall wasn't that old, and certainly not to be disparaged, and led Harry through the door of 'Ms. M. McGonagall'.
Ms. McGonagall turned out to be a thin woman with dark hair and piercing green eyes, whose age seemed ambiguous, for certainly although she wasn't VERY young, she was energetic and had a firm voice. She gave Harry a slight smile, marked him up in her records book, and told him to sit anywhere he liked.
Harry sat down next to Hermione, and Parvati from his History class walked in a short while after him, to sit down at his other side. Goth boy Ron Weasley, who was apparently also in his home room, gave Harry a slight smirk that was quite the opposite of his usual lugubrious expression.
"Popular with the ladies, eh?"
Hermione rolled her eyes and muttered something about silly boys under her breath, and Parvati giggled slightly. Lavender sat next to Ron and patronizingly (if slightly gingerly) patted his head, telling him that if he behaved in a reasonably courteous manner and remembered to wash behind his ears, he might be able to get more action.
The shade of Ron's maroon face clashed terribly with his attire, his two-toned locks, AND his freckles.. and Harry's school day ended, somewhat surprisingly, with laughter.
Disclaimer: I own neither Potterverse characters nor Beatrice nor Benedick. See, not being English, I can't possibly be either JKR or Shakespeare. Big duh-ism.
~*~
"Welcome to another magnificent day of English Literature!" Dr. Flitwick had a very squeaky voice when he was excited, and his face, crowned with snowy hair, was all smiles as he craned his neck to look at all the students. "It shall be my pleasure and honour to bring you through the marvels of Milton and the bravura of the Brontes! And..." Flitwick paused, glancing at his class list, "It seems as though we have with us a new student! Another addition to this grand group of scholars! Mr. Potter, is it?"
Harry squirmed slightly and nodded, "Er, yes."
"Wonderful!" Flitwick beamed at him, and pointed towards a chair next to a bored-looking girl with dark hair. "Next to Miss Turpin, if you please!"
Harry slid into his assigned seat, and without further ado, the teacher launched into the day's topic. "And how many of you have done the assigned reading for today?"
The majority gave various grunts and nods of affirmation, and Flitwick beamed, clapping his hands. "Splendid! And who, then, shall volunteer to play the parts that we'd not gotten to yesterday?"
Now, most students arranged to be looking into their bookbags or at their fingernails. But one boy, his medium blond hair brushing his shoulders and a pair of gilt-framed glasses perched on his nose, raised a hand.
"Ah, Steven Cornfoot!" Flitwick's grin widened to Halloween pumpkin proportions, "Excellent of you to volunteer! Miss Brocklehurst, if you would play opposite him?"
A girl with black hair and slightly tanned skin gave a noncommittal shrug, and opened her book. Steven Cornfoot set his own, closed, upon his desk, and gave the girl a charming grin.
"What, my dear Lady Disdain, are you yet living?"
Brocklehurst rolled her eyes slightly at Cornfoot's slightly impudent expression, and read her own lines. "Is it possible disdain should die while she hath such meet food to feed it as Signior Benedick? Courtesy itself must convert to disdain, if you come in her presence."
"Then is courtesy a turncoat. But it is certain I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted: and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart; for, truly, I love none." Steven Cornfoot continued glibly, rising from his desk and giving Brocklehurst a debonair sort of look. Harry assumed that it was part of the role he was playing, which he evidently knew by heart.
"A dear happiness to women: they would else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God and my cold blood, I am of your humour for that: I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me." Brocklehurst gave Cornfoot a veiled glare, and continued to read in a snippy voice. The girl next to Harry gave a slight snort of amusement.
As Cornfoot and Brocklehurst continued their Benedick-and-Beatrice banter, Turpin turned towards Harry with a slight smirk. "Think Mandy and Steven should just stop and kiss already?"
Harry did not venture any opinions on this... In his old school, no students used Shakespeare as a means of flirting. At least, no one beyond a particularly pedantic kid named Dudley who sent a girl the ever-clichéd and ever-overused "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day" sonnet. That particular painful-to-behold event had served as a warning to others to avoid using the Bard as a means of wooing.
And yet, as Mandy Brocklehurst, a haughty expression on her face, concluded the exchange with "You always end with a jade's trick: I know you of old," and pointedly ignored the brilliant, wide grin that Steven Cornfoot beamed her way (though she flushed slightly), Harry reflected that perhaps Turpin, whatever her first name was, had a point.
Not that he'd want to see the two making out in class right after lunch or anything!
~*~
After English class, in which Steven Cornfoot, evidently a bit of a literature whiz, dominated both recitations and discussions with his wit and wisdom, Harry was met once again by the door by Hermione Granger, who was looking more benevolent and upbeat than she'd been all day. A glance at the stack of books and binders she held in her hands gave the reason why. On top of "Pre-Calculus Topics: 3rd Edition" was a rather difficult-looking test, with a cheerful red-pen "53/50" marked by Hermione's neatly printed name.
"So, how has your day been, so far?" Hermione asked breezily as she led him (not death-gripping his arm this time, to his immense relief) down the hallway towards Humanities. "Enjoy your classes?"
"They're all right," Harry replied, wondering why Hermione, who was apparently in the same year as he was, took Pre-Calculus rather than the standard Geometry. "There's a kid named Steven Cornfoot in Flitwick's class who's apparently quite the English geek."
Hermione laughed lightly, "Steven is a sweet boy. He plans to major in English, I think... and he's going to Stanford." At the mention of that college, her expression brightened even more.
"Oh?" Harry gave a look of polite interest, "And what about you?"
"I think I'm going to Stanford as well," she replied, her expression now downright dreamy, "Although I think I'm going into Business. I love math, you see... and I remember last year, as a freshman, I took accelerated geometry and Percy tutored me and..." she trailed off, recalling herself. "Well. Yes. Percy was the student council president in his year... he's graduated now, though, but he did very well, 1800 SATs and everything... he's also at Stanford."
So Miss Prim-and-Professional apparently had hormones after all. Harry made a mental note that this Percy individual must be a force to be reckoned with.
Hermione left him at the classroom of a Ms. C. Sinistra, and floated down the hallway in a state of equation-induced euphoria.
~*~
Humanities, unlike most of his other classes, was an elective open to students of all years, and could be used to fulfill a liberal arts enrichment requirement for graduation. Therefore, when Harry walked into the quiet, dreamy Ms. Sinistra's classroom, he was greeted by a far more diverse crowd than that in any of his other classes.
Perched on the top of a desk in the corner, a smirk on his face, was the Terence Higgs fellow that Hermione had spazzed at earlier in the day. He was talking in low tones to a girl in a red vintage blouse and a long white fringed skirt, her brown hair cut to an inch below her chin. Though it was quite apparent that Terence was flirting, the girl's response was harder to gauge, although she WAS turned somewhat away from Harry. Close by sat two other boys, attired similar to Terence. The more cynical-looking of the two seemed busy sketching or writing, the fluorescent light from the ceiling glinting off the silver hoop in one ear, while the other appeared to be leafing through the textbook.
Harry introduced himself to Ms. Sinistra, who gave him a vague smile and waved him to a seat towards the middle of the room, right next to a blonde girl in a flowing blue babydoll dress, thumbing through a copy of the script of "Alice In Wonderland".
She looked up with through mascara-drenched eyelashes at him, and daintily introduced herself as Lavender Brown. "And what might your name be?" Her voice had a slight accent, as if she'd come from New York City.
"I'm Harry," he replied, peering at her flawlessly manicured hand before giving it a slight shake. "I'm new."
"Well yes, I know ithat/i," she grinned slightly, "I've never seen you before."
A few more students trickled in, a boy with longish dark hair and a guitar case sitting down behind Harry. As the bell rang and the last student, the camera-carrying Colin that Harry had seen earlier, rushed in, Ms. Sinistra started to take attendance.
From Lavender Brown, to the boy with the guitar (Roger Davies), through Terence Higgs and his friends (the Warrington and Montague that Hermione had most ominously threatened to 'get her hands on' earlier), to the girl Terence had been flirting with (by the name of Alicia Spinnet)... Sinistra slowly went through the list, and added Harry to the end of it.
Harry, glancing from Lavender's drama script to Davies' guitar to to Colin's camera to Alicia's sketchbook, received a firm impression that he might be one of the few not-particularly-artsy students in the class.
He meekly buried himself in his textbook and listened to Sinistra's whispery lecturing about Hellenistic Greek sculpture.
~*~
As Harry put away his rambly notes from Humanities class, he saw the now-familiar head of voluminous brown hair at the door of Sinistra's classroom. Hermione, still in her good mood, smiled at him in greeting. "Now, to homeroom."
"Is he with us, then?" Lavender Brown's voice was elegant, if rather disinterested, as she gazed from Harry to Hermione.
"Yes, he is," Hermione answered for Harry, before turning away from the other girl to look at Harry. "I see you've made the acquaintance of Lavender, then." Hermione didn't seem to be particularly close to Lavender, though there wasn't any great antagonism. "She's starring in the next play that the drama department is putting on."
Lavender patted her blonde ringlets and flushed, more with pride than with embarrassment. Harry politely congratulated her, not knowing what else to say. Although, to be sure, Lavender didn't seem to expect much in the way of conversation from him.
Hermione led him along the hallway, back towards the science wing that he'd been in for Biology earlier that day. "McGonagall teaches Physics," she informed him, "I have class with her when you have Humanities."
"A few of the boys have crushes on her," Lavender continued for Hermione, wrinkling her delicate little nose. "She's OLD..."
Hermione gave Lavender a slightly reproachful look, as if to say that McGonagall wasn't that old, and certainly not to be disparaged, and led Harry through the door of 'Ms. M. McGonagall'.
Ms. McGonagall turned out to be a thin woman with dark hair and piercing green eyes, whose age seemed ambiguous, for certainly although she wasn't VERY young, she was energetic and had a firm voice. She gave Harry a slight smile, marked him up in her records book, and told him to sit anywhere he liked.
Harry sat down next to Hermione, and Parvati from his History class walked in a short while after him, to sit down at his other side. Goth boy Ron Weasley, who was apparently also in his home room, gave Harry a slight smirk that was quite the opposite of his usual lugubrious expression.
"Popular with the ladies, eh?"
Hermione rolled her eyes and muttered something about silly boys under her breath, and Parvati giggled slightly. Lavender sat next to Ron and patronizingly (if slightly gingerly) patted his head, telling him that if he behaved in a reasonably courteous manner and remembered to wash behind his ears, he might be able to get more action.
The shade of Ron's maroon face clashed terribly with his attire, his two-toned locks, AND his freckles.. and Harry's school day ended, somewhat surprisingly, with laughter.
