Not much to say, except thanks for the reviews, and I hope you like what
I've written.
****' To say I was prepared for my first day of sixth year would be to tell a horrible lie. Of all my school books, only one had survived the fire. However, as we rarely did anything else the first day than went through what we did last year, this would be no problem. Or so I thought. As always, I chose the stupidest thing possible, and assumed I was safe. We only had our first lesson in all classes today, and even though McGonagall was infamous for her terrorising of students, even she could not believe we would do anything on the first day.
I was right about her.
I woke too early for my tastes, the first day of school, which happened to be a Thursday. The week day has no significance, but I felt that from now on, I would hate Thursdays. I rolled out of bed; eyes still closed shut against the blasted sunlight, and tried to crawl across the floor to find my clothes. I managed to get hold of some trousers which were probably black, and my father's old shirt. Pulling them on without any semblance of neatness, I stood up. Or at least, I tried to; I had crawled so far across the floor that I had ended up with my head under Goyle's bed. Therefore, I got myself a nice bump and a headache. And it wasn't even breakfast yet.
I opened my eyes and tried not to look directly at the sunlight, something I otherwise never failed to do. I got a hold of my tie and my robes, throwing them on. Draco and the other two were still sleeping, but if I didn't get a caffeine injection within fifteen minutes, I was going to keel over dead. Dragging my too light book bag off my bed, I walked out the door, making sure not to make too much noise, as Crabbe has an issue with getting his sleep in the mornings. Goyle's easier to deal with, as he's a bit of a nightowl, if not too much, and knows that he's going to be grouchy in the morning no matter when he wakes up.
I skipped the creaking step in the stairs, calculating the time it would take to get to the Great Hall in my head as I went. After five years in the same dormitory, you learn which steps creak and which don't. The Common Room was empty with the exception of Theodore Nott, who's been sleeping on the couch since his second year, our third. He has a problem with nightmares, which apparently goes away if he sleeps on the couch. Don't ask me why; he was always the weird one. I would be too, if my father was Avery Nott.
Well out in the corridor, I walked as quickly as possible. I didn't run, as that would wake up the portraits, who would complain loudly and in turn wake up the students, who would themselves wake up Snape, and Snape is not someone I like to deal with before coffee, uncle or no. He's grumpier than I am, and that's saying something.
"Just another ten minutes," I muttered as I began to climb the steps, my book bag hitting my side with each step, annoying me even further, "Just another ten.."
To distract myself from the increasing urge for caffeine, I began to count the steps. One, two, three...I kept going until I reached the top; a hundred and forty, a hundred and forty one, a hundred and forty two. The last step was dished in the middle, from centuries of wear, and I nearly slipped trying to walk over it. I caught myself just in time, and looked up. There, just beyond the one minute barrier, was the entrance to the Great Hall. One whole more minute before I reached it. The agony!
"Coffeeee." I mumbled, forcing my eyes to stay open. "Coffeeee.."
I was steps away from the door when I slammed into someone. I stumbled, lost my footing, hitting the floor face first, and heard a distinct crunch in my nose. Pain exploded just behind my eyes, and I would have cursed, had my face not been plastered to the floor. Ow. I pushed myself up again; ready to glare at the offender who had stopped me from reaching my coffee. I turned so I was sitting on the floor, and found myself face to face with the most infernally annoying person in the world, who was quickly climbing my list of people I had to kill before I turned twenty.
"Granger," I asked slowly, "What the hell are you doing tripping me up like that?"
"Zabini, for the love of all things holy, I didn't trip you up!" Granger snapped back at me, "You tripped me! You should be looking where you're going you know; that's the second time you've knocked me over."
As sure as Hogwarts was still standing, Hermione freaking Granger had managed to trip me, and from the feel of it, seriously damaged my nose. The list of things that had gone wrong for the day was on about five points and growing. And I still hadn't had any breakfast. She was glaring at me, worse than I had even seen her glare at Draco when he pulled one of his worst tricks on her, and that was about as bad as you could get. I scowled, but decided to drop it, as I had no desire to fight with anyone, much less a Gryffindor know-it-all, before a proper cup of coffee.
I pulled myself up off the floor, and headed into the Great Hall. Let her sit there and glare at me if she wanted; I needed coffee, and I needed it now.
The Great Hall was blessedly empty, but for a few early risers, and only one of them at the Slytherin table. And I knew that Gaspar Montague wouldn't be bothering me; he was too busy studying for the upcoming tests to even notice me. Gaspar is the Slytherin House's own personal Granger; he's a know-it-all, but not in the same way Granger is. Where Granger is annoying, Gaspar knows when to shut up.
I grabbed the closest cup of coffee, which stood not two inches away from my usual seat. The House Elves seemed to have learned my habits by now; great creatures they are too. Something Granger seems to have forgotten; but no matter. I had coffee, I had peace and quiet; all was good with the world. Caffeine had to be some god-sent gift to mankind; I would never be able to live without it.
I was at about my third cup when Millicent finally showed up, looking tired as hell. She gave me a smile, and I held up three fingers, signalling that it was safe to speak to me without risking one's head. She sat down, careful not to disturb me despite my reassurance, and leaned forward.
"How are you doing?" She asked, "Got everything? No need to run back and find a book with only a minute till class?"
"No," I shook my head, "I've got everything I own on me. No need to worry."
"Good." She pulled out a schedule, "My first lesson is Potions. What's yours?"
"Arithmancy, I think," I wrinkled my nose, which still hurt a bit, "And with my luck, I'm going to get stuck next to Granger. And she's going to nag at me the whole lesson, and probably sock me in the eye to get me a bruise to go with my nose. I'm going to look like a bloody racoon before this day is over."
"Your nose?" Millicent asked me, "What does Granger have to do with your nose?"
I told her the sorry tale, and not surprisingly, she laughed. I gave a humourless smile; I hate it when she laughs at me. She's so often right about things, and she can see humour in places I haven't even looked, which makes me look stupid. I hate looking stupid too. I hate a lot of things, and at the moment Hermione Granger is one of them. I finished my coffee, and stood up. Arithmancy was on the other side of the castle, and I'd need time to get there. Hopefully, Granger wouldn't be tripping me this time.
******'
The list has grown; some portrait of a knight on a fat pony challenged me to a duel on my way to the Arithmancy classroom, demanding he'd fight me for, and I quote, "the lady's honour". I pointed out that there was no lady, and left him behind, as he screamed insults and curses at me. I wonder who he was. Either way, I sat down in my seat about ten minutes before the lesson started, wishing I had not kept my books stashed in my house. It would have been easier to get through the lesson with proper materials.
I needed to pay outmost attention in Arithmancy this year; after fifth year, the equations got progressively harder and all numbers seemed to turn into bits and pieces. As if it wasn't complicated enough before that. Arithmancy is, without a doubt, the most difficult to understand magic in the world; where Transfiguration might have strange theories, Arithmancy attempts to explain itself so far that even I get lost. I'd rather they'd just let us believe two and two is four just because someone felt like it. And I don't share Professor Vector's passion for numbers. It just seems crazy to me to believe that the answer to everything lies in numbers, which appears to be what Vector thinks.
Don't get me wrong; she's good at what she does, but she just can't quite grasp that not everyone is as good at mathematics as she is. She tends to rush through things without much explaining, expecting us to do the explaining on our own. I sat there for a while on my own, before some other students, mostly Ravenclaws began to pour into the classroom. There was that Lisa Turpin girl, and Boots. The smarter Patil sister was there too, chatting with her friends. They settled down around me, forming a ring of defence, almost, unconsciously protecting me from any stray Gryffindors that might be around. One day, I'll thank the Ravenclaws for their kind, if misplaced, generosity. Just not today.
But then, only minutes before the class were scheduled to start, horror struck. There was an empty seat next to me, as I had run out of Ravenclaws, and Granger, for once late to a lesson, came in and as it was the only empty seat in the classroom, she was forced to sit in it. Gah! Hell was upon me! Flee, thou foul monstrosity! Flee, I say! Return to whence thy came!
However, my internal rant was no use, as moments later, Professor Vector entered the classroom and it was too late to change seats. I would have jumped out the window, but I feared someone would catch me and stop me from getting free of my misery. I might have known things would turn out this way; I'd said so to Millicent earlier. I should learn not to jinx my luck like that; it's no good for my health.
"Good morning class!" Professor Vector chirped altogether too brightly for eight o clock on a Thursday morning, "I hope you all had a good holiday! Why don't you tell me what happened?"
I snorted; good holiday? And as for events; you want those events chronologically, alphabetically or in order of the worst first? It would be easier to do the latter, as I certainly knew the first on that list. I glanced down on my sleeve, or rather the sleeve of my father's shirt, standing out against the stark black of our robes. I tucked it in, trying to hide it. Breaking the dress code would result in removal of five points from the students House, and I did not wish to lose five points on the first day. I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye, and turned quickly. Vector was still prattling on about our summer holidays in the background, though I ignored her.
Next to me, looking mighty suspicious was Granger, staring at where my shirt sleeve had been only moments before. I rolled my eyes; that girl has too much time on her hands if she starts worrying about what I do with my clothing during class. Unless I take it off of course. Uh, no, let's not go there. I'd like to keep my clothes in, especially in this freezing castle. I'm not an exhibitionist, and I won't ever be. I have no idea where the idea came from, and honestly, I'd rather not know. Had I had a Beater's bat on hand, I would have beaten my brains out.
"Mr Zabini?" Vector's voice cut through my train of thought, which seemed to have left the station without me, "Would you like to tell us about your summer please?"
"No," I replied, looking up.
"Excuse me?" She asked, confused.
"I said; no." I forced myself not to roll my eyes at her slowness, "I would not like to tell you about my summer."
"But you have to!" Granger exclaimed next to me, apparently horrified about the concept of not answering questions properly.
"And who asked you?" I questioned, turning to her, "It's just a question, not an assignment, and I don't have to answer unless I fell like doing so. If you have another opinion about this, please take it elsewhere; like the hallway, for example, or someone who cares."
We sat there in silence, glaring at each other. If looks could kill, Granger would be six feet under and ahead on her way to rotting. Vector cleared her throat, but I didn't turn my head; I'd be damned if I let Granger win this contest, even if it was such a measly contest as a glaring one. Finally, when Vector cleared her throat a second time, Granger backed off, as she rightly should; being an obnoxious know-it-all shouldn't get her special treatment.
"Mr Zabini, Ms Granger, please, stop it, or I am going to be forced to take points from you both," Vector said sternly "Now pay attention; if you don't feel like telling us something about your summer, then that's alright, Mr Zabini. Ms Granger, if you want to say something in class, please raise your hand first."
Granger being reprimanded by a teacher? Whoohoo! This was my lucky day! Zabini; 1, Granger; nil. The games had begun. Or not. Now I needed to concentrate on the lesson, or I would lose points no matter how small my offence; Vector was looking mighty annoyed by now. I settled in to listen to everyone telling about their summers, thankful that I wasn't going to have to use my textbook today, as I had none.
*******'
Arithmancy was over, and I had no bruises. The day was starting to look up again, though they say it's always darkest before the dawn, and I could see storm clouds on the horizon. For all I knew, I might have bruises to last me a lifetime before lunch. I trudged down the steps, heading for Charms, which was my next lesson. Hopefully, Flitwick would only have us take notes this time, and not start with the real teaching until next time. I could but hope and pray, with fear of sounding like some old Muggle poet.
I wandered through the halls, not really paying attention to my surroundings. By now, everyone from second year and up had learned about my tendency to drift off into thoughts and my ability to stay there for quite a while, so I wasn't bothered. Now, with things settling into a normal routine once again, I was finding time to think. Time to think that I really didn't want.
After the fire, everything had gone so fast; with only two days to the start of school, it hadn't really sunk in until the first night at Hogwarts, and even though this was only the first day, the familiarity of the surroundings worked their magic, for lack of a better word, on me, and it felt as if I had been here forever. And it made me think about things. I guess the fact that my father was really and truly gone forever never really entered my mind. Until I walked down the stairs from the Arithmancy classroom at good old Hogwarts, that was. My father was, and always would be, gone.
After years of knowing that I could reach him with a simple letter or through the Floo, the feeling of acute loneliness this knowledge lent me was unsettling. It felt like losing my footing and stumbling around without a goal. I felt like just sitting down on the steps and not moving ever again, but I forced myself to take another step, ignoring my thoughts to the widest extent possible. I had a lesson to get to, a life to live, and dwelling on the past would do me no good. Boys don't cry, after all.
Charms class went just as smooth and easy as Arithmancy had, with the exception of no fights with Granger. I still got stuck with her in class though. Seeing as she was taking Arithmancy and Charms, she was probably not going to pass up on Transfiguration and Defence either. I'd be stuck with her all year, even if she did something insane like taking Potions along with everything else, forcing her to either split time in two or have lessons in the middle of the night. Of course, knowing her well enough to predict her, she was going to do so or die trying. Eh, I wasn't going to her funeral anyway, so it wasn't really my problem.
I was dreading my Transfiguration lesson, which was the last of the day; McGonagall was notorious for disliking Slytherin, and as far as I knew, I was the only one taking Transfiguration this year. I was going to be in such big trouble before the week was out; if Granger was, as I feared, taking Transfiguration, I was going to have my work cut out for me trying not to snap at her. Detentions loomed ahead of me that was for sure.
************'
I love food. There's no secrets about that, and I would go through almost as many things for food as I would for coffee, although coffee wins that particular contest by a mile. One of the reasons to why I love food is the luncheon at Hogwarts. There is not one thing imaginable that isn't on the table, and all of it tastes so good, it would make even the pickiest gourmet's mouth water. I, of course, did not mind much how the food tasted, as long as it wasn't foul enough to gag a goat, I'd eat it.
I sat there, happily munching away on my lunch, which consisted of sausages, mashed potatoes, and the ever so popular pumpkin juice, not a care in the world. Almost. I had Defence as soon as lunch was over, no doubt with every Gryffindor in existence and with a completely new teacher. That was another of the things that was annoying with constantly changing Defence teachers; it took a whole year to get to know their quirks and the second to start using them to your advantage, but with the Defence teachers averaging on one year in total, I never had time to get to know them. A real setback, that was.
"Millie?" I asked as I cut my second sausage in two, "You're taking Defence this year, aren't you?"
"Yeah, I am," She nodded, "I want to know who the teacher is though; hopefully Dumbledore won't mess up and hire someone like Umbridge again."
"Nah, I don't think he will," I replied and glanced up at the Head Table, even though Dumbledore wasn't there, "That would turn most of the student body against him. No, scratch that; not most, all of them would. And not only turn; they would form a bloody rebellion. And I'd be the ring leader. Trust me on that one,"
Millicent laughed, knowing full well that I would kill someone if I was forced to sit through one more lesson under a teacher like Dolores Jane Umbridge, the worst teacher in Hogwarts history, beating even the infamous Lockhart, who had managed, despite obvious setbacks, to teach us something; never to trust someone who wore pastel robes for no good reason.
"Well," I said, raising my goblet of pumpkin juice, "Here's to a good Defence teacher, and a hopefully peaceful year."
"Hear, hear," Millicent replied, raising her own goblet. "Let us hope that this one doesn't have any mental deficiencies."
"We can but hope," I grinned, albeit a forced one.
******'
Silence ruled our small group as we sat down in our seats in the Defence classroom. The horrible, frilly curtains and pink, lacy tablecloths of Umbridge's time had been forcibly removed from the surroundings, and replaced with assorted bookshelves, as well as a wide space at the back of the classroom, probably put aside for spell practising. And the room had a definite darker shade now; a map of some obscure, far-away place was hung on the wall, mostly coloured black or red, and there was a black cape draped across the back of the chair behind the teacher's desk.
Millicent and I settled down next to each other, huddling together as the only Slytherins in the class, against the impressive number of Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws and Gryffindors. Potter was there, as well as Granger, Weasley and all other Gryffindors of their year. From Ravenclaw there was Bones, Boots, Brocklehurst and Turpin. MacDougal hadn't showed up, although there were rumours of him having caught some odd illness. What surprised me though, was the number of Hufflepuffs; Defence was always a major choice for Ravenclaws and Slytherins, though Gryffindors got in on thinking it was spiffy to know dangerous spells, but the Badgers never chose Defence unless they were, shall we say, a bit odd. For Hufflepuffs, at least.
As the teacher wasn't present, the class began to chatter, following the behavioural pattern of all classes in the multi-universe, if left on their own for too long. I leaned back in my chair and stared at the blackboard. There was something different about the classroom, other than the new decorations. Whenever a teacher is present in a room, there's a different feel to it. That was the feel it had now; our new Defence teacher was already here. I focused my attention on the chair in the front of the room, and stayed silent. I would give the teacher no reason to remove points from Slytherin on the first day.
Millicent noticed I was staying silent, something I nearly never did otherwise, if I had the chance to ramble, and wise chose to follow my lead. I was by now dead-sure that the Defence teacher was in the room, and couldn't wait for him to reveal himself. Obviously he was good at stealth; no one would be able to hide for that long in a room full of students without making a sound unless said person was exceptionally good at what he did. I tried to reason my way to where he was, deducting that he wasn't using an Invisibility Cloak because there were no places for him to stand without either casting a shadow or being in the way of the students.
Something made me turn my head and stare at the window, at the heavy red curtain that hung to one side of it. It must have been some strange sound, but I did. Before my eyes, a figure began to appear, slowly, as if it took time to gather all its pieces from the air around it. Before my eyes, our defence teacher came into view. It had to be him; who else would be hiding in the Defence classroom in time for our class? I stared at him, but he just glanced at me before looking at the rest of the class.
I have to say, he was very unlike any other Defence teacher we ever had. He seemed to favour black where the others had gone for brown, turquoise, purple and a horrible cardigan, and not the normal, baggy robes either; more like the shirts and suits Muggles wore, but not quite. He was very tall, where the others had been short to average. And he had longer hair than any of the others put together. He kept it braided down his back, though some of it escaped him and hung in his eyes. They were a peculiar, not to say freakish colour, kind of like mine. They were, and I kid you not, red. Freaky. And I thought mine were weird.
He walked to the front of the classroom, and stood there with his arms crossed for a minute or two, before he raised his eyebrow silently. The class were still talking, with the exception of me and Millicent. He cleared his throat to get their attention, and it snapped around immediately. Granger had the grace to look slightly embarrassed.
"Of all of you, only one person managed to realise I was here," He said, speaking in a low, calm voice, though there was a hint of amusement to it. "I do not wish to know why this was the case, although I could probably blame your lack of decent teachers in my subject over the years, but this will have to change."
Everyone watched him silently, and Potter looked a bit angry for some reason. I raised my eyebrow; surely the professor hadn't said anything insulting yet, had he? I had to keep myself from grinning, as the new professor seemed like the kind to be suspicious of grinning students, but I was pleased that someone had managed to make Potter angry even without meaning to. Potter was a constant annoyance in my life, and therefore I enjoyed every bit of anger directed his way.
"You are all here because you have proven yourself apt at my subject, but before the year is out, you will have to become even better." The teacher rattled on, fixing each of us with a stare. "I will not accept that any of you get a lower result than Exceeds Expectations on your end-of-year exams. I will take it as a personal insult, and you do not want me as your enemy. There will be no free time for you, until you have done your homework and checked it twice. There will be test at least once a week, and I will not accept anyone failing these. Any questions before I go on?"
No one dared to ask anything, not even Granger, having been frightened by his sudden appearance. But I raised my hand quickly, trying to keep the smile contained; now would not be a good time to starts grinning. Not that I wasn't thankful for my natural ability to laugh at anything returning. It just wasn't a good time. The teacher nodded at me, and I pulled my hand down again.
"Yes, you, what is your name?" He asked before I had a chance to open my mouth.
"Zabini, sir." I replied, "I have a question; no one had seen it fit to supply us with your name, so we have no idea of how to address you. Would you mind giving us your name, or is that a well kept secret?"
"My mother always did say I left my manners at the door," He mumbled before nodding quickly and turning to the rest of the class, "My name is Vincent Lucas, but you will address me as Professor Lucas or sir only, anything else will result in removal of points from your House."
I blinked. Well, if that wasn't strict, I didn't know what was. McGonagall was simple to handle compared to this one. Snappish, but fair. I liked that. I didn't really care if the teacher insisted on being called "Daisy" when his real name was Charles, as long as he or she was fair to the students. I had seen way too much favouritism to be able to stand it anymore. I re-focused on Professor Lucas again, once more noting that very odd colour of his eyes.
"From the documentation of your classes, which has been very weak and random in places, it appears you have learned just about what a normal third year student knows. In class, that is," He added, raising an eyebrow, "I am well aware of the extra-curricular spell-teachings that goes on at Hogwarts. Even the disorganised ones. As all of you passed your O.W.L's with distinction, I shall hazard a guess and say you have been reading non- class required material as well. Hopefully, this year's book will be enough for you. Open it up on the first page, and you will see what we shall be learning this year."
I pulled out my book and turned to the first page, praying that it was still there and not incinerated. Thankfully, it wasn't, and I could read that our first lesson would be a repeat of what we had learned last year, just to see what we remembered. I made a mental list of what we had actually learned, and came up pretty short. Number one; don't trust people in woolly cardigans, number two; don't sleep in the Defence lessons, number three; don't trust people in woolly cardigans. And that was about it.
Professor Lucas was writing something on the blackboard. "I have sworn thee fair and thought thee bright, who art black as hell and dark as night", it read, puzzling me for a moment. Why would he be writing poetry on the blackboard at a time like this? He turned around again, and looked at the class. His gaze lingered on me for a moment, or rather my book, but amounts to the same thing.
"Mr Zabini, please see me after class," He said abruptly, leaving me blinking. What did I do? "We have no more time right now, as this lesson had to be shorter than the others by necessity. Write down the phrase on the blackboard, and it will be your homework to learn it till next time. You may leave."
Alright, that was the oddest Defence lesson I'd had in all my time at Hogwarts, and with my teachers, that's saying something. What he wanted with me was still a puzzle though; I had done nothing but ask for his name, and he wanted to see me after class. Maybe he wasn't used to students talking in his classroom, or even daring to ask questions. While I had liked Professor Lucas good enough at the beginning of the lesson, he was beginning to get on my nerves by now.
*****'
Ending Notes; and enter a new and shocking teacher. I wonder where Blaise will go next? *sigh* This is what happens when you write without a firm plotline; your characters run away with the story.
****' To say I was prepared for my first day of sixth year would be to tell a horrible lie. Of all my school books, only one had survived the fire. However, as we rarely did anything else the first day than went through what we did last year, this would be no problem. Or so I thought. As always, I chose the stupidest thing possible, and assumed I was safe. We only had our first lesson in all classes today, and even though McGonagall was infamous for her terrorising of students, even she could not believe we would do anything on the first day.
I was right about her.
I woke too early for my tastes, the first day of school, which happened to be a Thursday. The week day has no significance, but I felt that from now on, I would hate Thursdays. I rolled out of bed; eyes still closed shut against the blasted sunlight, and tried to crawl across the floor to find my clothes. I managed to get hold of some trousers which were probably black, and my father's old shirt. Pulling them on without any semblance of neatness, I stood up. Or at least, I tried to; I had crawled so far across the floor that I had ended up with my head under Goyle's bed. Therefore, I got myself a nice bump and a headache. And it wasn't even breakfast yet.
I opened my eyes and tried not to look directly at the sunlight, something I otherwise never failed to do. I got a hold of my tie and my robes, throwing them on. Draco and the other two were still sleeping, but if I didn't get a caffeine injection within fifteen minutes, I was going to keel over dead. Dragging my too light book bag off my bed, I walked out the door, making sure not to make too much noise, as Crabbe has an issue with getting his sleep in the mornings. Goyle's easier to deal with, as he's a bit of a nightowl, if not too much, and knows that he's going to be grouchy in the morning no matter when he wakes up.
I skipped the creaking step in the stairs, calculating the time it would take to get to the Great Hall in my head as I went. After five years in the same dormitory, you learn which steps creak and which don't. The Common Room was empty with the exception of Theodore Nott, who's been sleeping on the couch since his second year, our third. He has a problem with nightmares, which apparently goes away if he sleeps on the couch. Don't ask me why; he was always the weird one. I would be too, if my father was Avery Nott.
Well out in the corridor, I walked as quickly as possible. I didn't run, as that would wake up the portraits, who would complain loudly and in turn wake up the students, who would themselves wake up Snape, and Snape is not someone I like to deal with before coffee, uncle or no. He's grumpier than I am, and that's saying something.
"Just another ten minutes," I muttered as I began to climb the steps, my book bag hitting my side with each step, annoying me even further, "Just another ten.."
To distract myself from the increasing urge for caffeine, I began to count the steps. One, two, three...I kept going until I reached the top; a hundred and forty, a hundred and forty one, a hundred and forty two. The last step was dished in the middle, from centuries of wear, and I nearly slipped trying to walk over it. I caught myself just in time, and looked up. There, just beyond the one minute barrier, was the entrance to the Great Hall. One whole more minute before I reached it. The agony!
"Coffeeee." I mumbled, forcing my eyes to stay open. "Coffeeee.."
I was steps away from the door when I slammed into someone. I stumbled, lost my footing, hitting the floor face first, and heard a distinct crunch in my nose. Pain exploded just behind my eyes, and I would have cursed, had my face not been plastered to the floor. Ow. I pushed myself up again; ready to glare at the offender who had stopped me from reaching my coffee. I turned so I was sitting on the floor, and found myself face to face with the most infernally annoying person in the world, who was quickly climbing my list of people I had to kill before I turned twenty.
"Granger," I asked slowly, "What the hell are you doing tripping me up like that?"
"Zabini, for the love of all things holy, I didn't trip you up!" Granger snapped back at me, "You tripped me! You should be looking where you're going you know; that's the second time you've knocked me over."
As sure as Hogwarts was still standing, Hermione freaking Granger had managed to trip me, and from the feel of it, seriously damaged my nose. The list of things that had gone wrong for the day was on about five points and growing. And I still hadn't had any breakfast. She was glaring at me, worse than I had even seen her glare at Draco when he pulled one of his worst tricks on her, and that was about as bad as you could get. I scowled, but decided to drop it, as I had no desire to fight with anyone, much less a Gryffindor know-it-all, before a proper cup of coffee.
I pulled myself up off the floor, and headed into the Great Hall. Let her sit there and glare at me if she wanted; I needed coffee, and I needed it now.
The Great Hall was blessedly empty, but for a few early risers, and only one of them at the Slytherin table. And I knew that Gaspar Montague wouldn't be bothering me; he was too busy studying for the upcoming tests to even notice me. Gaspar is the Slytherin House's own personal Granger; he's a know-it-all, but not in the same way Granger is. Where Granger is annoying, Gaspar knows when to shut up.
I grabbed the closest cup of coffee, which stood not two inches away from my usual seat. The House Elves seemed to have learned my habits by now; great creatures they are too. Something Granger seems to have forgotten; but no matter. I had coffee, I had peace and quiet; all was good with the world. Caffeine had to be some god-sent gift to mankind; I would never be able to live without it.
I was at about my third cup when Millicent finally showed up, looking tired as hell. She gave me a smile, and I held up three fingers, signalling that it was safe to speak to me without risking one's head. She sat down, careful not to disturb me despite my reassurance, and leaned forward.
"How are you doing?" She asked, "Got everything? No need to run back and find a book with only a minute till class?"
"No," I shook my head, "I've got everything I own on me. No need to worry."
"Good." She pulled out a schedule, "My first lesson is Potions. What's yours?"
"Arithmancy, I think," I wrinkled my nose, which still hurt a bit, "And with my luck, I'm going to get stuck next to Granger. And she's going to nag at me the whole lesson, and probably sock me in the eye to get me a bruise to go with my nose. I'm going to look like a bloody racoon before this day is over."
"Your nose?" Millicent asked me, "What does Granger have to do with your nose?"
I told her the sorry tale, and not surprisingly, she laughed. I gave a humourless smile; I hate it when she laughs at me. She's so often right about things, and she can see humour in places I haven't even looked, which makes me look stupid. I hate looking stupid too. I hate a lot of things, and at the moment Hermione Granger is one of them. I finished my coffee, and stood up. Arithmancy was on the other side of the castle, and I'd need time to get there. Hopefully, Granger wouldn't be tripping me this time.
******'
The list has grown; some portrait of a knight on a fat pony challenged me to a duel on my way to the Arithmancy classroom, demanding he'd fight me for, and I quote, "the lady's honour". I pointed out that there was no lady, and left him behind, as he screamed insults and curses at me. I wonder who he was. Either way, I sat down in my seat about ten minutes before the lesson started, wishing I had not kept my books stashed in my house. It would have been easier to get through the lesson with proper materials.
I needed to pay outmost attention in Arithmancy this year; after fifth year, the equations got progressively harder and all numbers seemed to turn into bits and pieces. As if it wasn't complicated enough before that. Arithmancy is, without a doubt, the most difficult to understand magic in the world; where Transfiguration might have strange theories, Arithmancy attempts to explain itself so far that even I get lost. I'd rather they'd just let us believe two and two is four just because someone felt like it. And I don't share Professor Vector's passion for numbers. It just seems crazy to me to believe that the answer to everything lies in numbers, which appears to be what Vector thinks.
Don't get me wrong; she's good at what she does, but she just can't quite grasp that not everyone is as good at mathematics as she is. She tends to rush through things without much explaining, expecting us to do the explaining on our own. I sat there for a while on my own, before some other students, mostly Ravenclaws began to pour into the classroom. There was that Lisa Turpin girl, and Boots. The smarter Patil sister was there too, chatting with her friends. They settled down around me, forming a ring of defence, almost, unconsciously protecting me from any stray Gryffindors that might be around. One day, I'll thank the Ravenclaws for their kind, if misplaced, generosity. Just not today.
But then, only minutes before the class were scheduled to start, horror struck. There was an empty seat next to me, as I had run out of Ravenclaws, and Granger, for once late to a lesson, came in and as it was the only empty seat in the classroom, she was forced to sit in it. Gah! Hell was upon me! Flee, thou foul monstrosity! Flee, I say! Return to whence thy came!
However, my internal rant was no use, as moments later, Professor Vector entered the classroom and it was too late to change seats. I would have jumped out the window, but I feared someone would catch me and stop me from getting free of my misery. I might have known things would turn out this way; I'd said so to Millicent earlier. I should learn not to jinx my luck like that; it's no good for my health.
"Good morning class!" Professor Vector chirped altogether too brightly for eight o clock on a Thursday morning, "I hope you all had a good holiday! Why don't you tell me what happened?"
I snorted; good holiday? And as for events; you want those events chronologically, alphabetically or in order of the worst first? It would be easier to do the latter, as I certainly knew the first on that list. I glanced down on my sleeve, or rather the sleeve of my father's shirt, standing out against the stark black of our robes. I tucked it in, trying to hide it. Breaking the dress code would result in removal of five points from the students House, and I did not wish to lose five points on the first day. I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye, and turned quickly. Vector was still prattling on about our summer holidays in the background, though I ignored her.
Next to me, looking mighty suspicious was Granger, staring at where my shirt sleeve had been only moments before. I rolled my eyes; that girl has too much time on her hands if she starts worrying about what I do with my clothing during class. Unless I take it off of course. Uh, no, let's not go there. I'd like to keep my clothes in, especially in this freezing castle. I'm not an exhibitionist, and I won't ever be. I have no idea where the idea came from, and honestly, I'd rather not know. Had I had a Beater's bat on hand, I would have beaten my brains out.
"Mr Zabini?" Vector's voice cut through my train of thought, which seemed to have left the station without me, "Would you like to tell us about your summer please?"
"No," I replied, looking up.
"Excuse me?" She asked, confused.
"I said; no." I forced myself not to roll my eyes at her slowness, "I would not like to tell you about my summer."
"But you have to!" Granger exclaimed next to me, apparently horrified about the concept of not answering questions properly.
"And who asked you?" I questioned, turning to her, "It's just a question, not an assignment, and I don't have to answer unless I fell like doing so. If you have another opinion about this, please take it elsewhere; like the hallway, for example, or someone who cares."
We sat there in silence, glaring at each other. If looks could kill, Granger would be six feet under and ahead on her way to rotting. Vector cleared her throat, but I didn't turn my head; I'd be damned if I let Granger win this contest, even if it was such a measly contest as a glaring one. Finally, when Vector cleared her throat a second time, Granger backed off, as she rightly should; being an obnoxious know-it-all shouldn't get her special treatment.
"Mr Zabini, Ms Granger, please, stop it, or I am going to be forced to take points from you both," Vector said sternly "Now pay attention; if you don't feel like telling us something about your summer, then that's alright, Mr Zabini. Ms Granger, if you want to say something in class, please raise your hand first."
Granger being reprimanded by a teacher? Whoohoo! This was my lucky day! Zabini; 1, Granger; nil. The games had begun. Or not. Now I needed to concentrate on the lesson, or I would lose points no matter how small my offence; Vector was looking mighty annoyed by now. I settled in to listen to everyone telling about their summers, thankful that I wasn't going to have to use my textbook today, as I had none.
*******'
Arithmancy was over, and I had no bruises. The day was starting to look up again, though they say it's always darkest before the dawn, and I could see storm clouds on the horizon. For all I knew, I might have bruises to last me a lifetime before lunch. I trudged down the steps, heading for Charms, which was my next lesson. Hopefully, Flitwick would only have us take notes this time, and not start with the real teaching until next time. I could but hope and pray, with fear of sounding like some old Muggle poet.
I wandered through the halls, not really paying attention to my surroundings. By now, everyone from second year and up had learned about my tendency to drift off into thoughts and my ability to stay there for quite a while, so I wasn't bothered. Now, with things settling into a normal routine once again, I was finding time to think. Time to think that I really didn't want.
After the fire, everything had gone so fast; with only two days to the start of school, it hadn't really sunk in until the first night at Hogwarts, and even though this was only the first day, the familiarity of the surroundings worked their magic, for lack of a better word, on me, and it felt as if I had been here forever. And it made me think about things. I guess the fact that my father was really and truly gone forever never really entered my mind. Until I walked down the stairs from the Arithmancy classroom at good old Hogwarts, that was. My father was, and always would be, gone.
After years of knowing that I could reach him with a simple letter or through the Floo, the feeling of acute loneliness this knowledge lent me was unsettling. It felt like losing my footing and stumbling around without a goal. I felt like just sitting down on the steps and not moving ever again, but I forced myself to take another step, ignoring my thoughts to the widest extent possible. I had a lesson to get to, a life to live, and dwelling on the past would do me no good. Boys don't cry, after all.
Charms class went just as smooth and easy as Arithmancy had, with the exception of no fights with Granger. I still got stuck with her in class though. Seeing as she was taking Arithmancy and Charms, she was probably not going to pass up on Transfiguration and Defence either. I'd be stuck with her all year, even if she did something insane like taking Potions along with everything else, forcing her to either split time in two or have lessons in the middle of the night. Of course, knowing her well enough to predict her, she was going to do so or die trying. Eh, I wasn't going to her funeral anyway, so it wasn't really my problem.
I was dreading my Transfiguration lesson, which was the last of the day; McGonagall was notorious for disliking Slytherin, and as far as I knew, I was the only one taking Transfiguration this year. I was going to be in such big trouble before the week was out; if Granger was, as I feared, taking Transfiguration, I was going to have my work cut out for me trying not to snap at her. Detentions loomed ahead of me that was for sure.
************'
I love food. There's no secrets about that, and I would go through almost as many things for food as I would for coffee, although coffee wins that particular contest by a mile. One of the reasons to why I love food is the luncheon at Hogwarts. There is not one thing imaginable that isn't on the table, and all of it tastes so good, it would make even the pickiest gourmet's mouth water. I, of course, did not mind much how the food tasted, as long as it wasn't foul enough to gag a goat, I'd eat it.
I sat there, happily munching away on my lunch, which consisted of sausages, mashed potatoes, and the ever so popular pumpkin juice, not a care in the world. Almost. I had Defence as soon as lunch was over, no doubt with every Gryffindor in existence and with a completely new teacher. That was another of the things that was annoying with constantly changing Defence teachers; it took a whole year to get to know their quirks and the second to start using them to your advantage, but with the Defence teachers averaging on one year in total, I never had time to get to know them. A real setback, that was.
"Millie?" I asked as I cut my second sausage in two, "You're taking Defence this year, aren't you?"
"Yeah, I am," She nodded, "I want to know who the teacher is though; hopefully Dumbledore won't mess up and hire someone like Umbridge again."
"Nah, I don't think he will," I replied and glanced up at the Head Table, even though Dumbledore wasn't there, "That would turn most of the student body against him. No, scratch that; not most, all of them would. And not only turn; they would form a bloody rebellion. And I'd be the ring leader. Trust me on that one,"
Millicent laughed, knowing full well that I would kill someone if I was forced to sit through one more lesson under a teacher like Dolores Jane Umbridge, the worst teacher in Hogwarts history, beating even the infamous Lockhart, who had managed, despite obvious setbacks, to teach us something; never to trust someone who wore pastel robes for no good reason.
"Well," I said, raising my goblet of pumpkin juice, "Here's to a good Defence teacher, and a hopefully peaceful year."
"Hear, hear," Millicent replied, raising her own goblet. "Let us hope that this one doesn't have any mental deficiencies."
"We can but hope," I grinned, albeit a forced one.
******'
Silence ruled our small group as we sat down in our seats in the Defence classroom. The horrible, frilly curtains and pink, lacy tablecloths of Umbridge's time had been forcibly removed from the surroundings, and replaced with assorted bookshelves, as well as a wide space at the back of the classroom, probably put aside for spell practising. And the room had a definite darker shade now; a map of some obscure, far-away place was hung on the wall, mostly coloured black or red, and there was a black cape draped across the back of the chair behind the teacher's desk.
Millicent and I settled down next to each other, huddling together as the only Slytherins in the class, against the impressive number of Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws and Gryffindors. Potter was there, as well as Granger, Weasley and all other Gryffindors of their year. From Ravenclaw there was Bones, Boots, Brocklehurst and Turpin. MacDougal hadn't showed up, although there were rumours of him having caught some odd illness. What surprised me though, was the number of Hufflepuffs; Defence was always a major choice for Ravenclaws and Slytherins, though Gryffindors got in on thinking it was spiffy to know dangerous spells, but the Badgers never chose Defence unless they were, shall we say, a bit odd. For Hufflepuffs, at least.
As the teacher wasn't present, the class began to chatter, following the behavioural pattern of all classes in the multi-universe, if left on their own for too long. I leaned back in my chair and stared at the blackboard. There was something different about the classroom, other than the new decorations. Whenever a teacher is present in a room, there's a different feel to it. That was the feel it had now; our new Defence teacher was already here. I focused my attention on the chair in the front of the room, and stayed silent. I would give the teacher no reason to remove points from Slytherin on the first day.
Millicent noticed I was staying silent, something I nearly never did otherwise, if I had the chance to ramble, and wise chose to follow my lead. I was by now dead-sure that the Defence teacher was in the room, and couldn't wait for him to reveal himself. Obviously he was good at stealth; no one would be able to hide for that long in a room full of students without making a sound unless said person was exceptionally good at what he did. I tried to reason my way to where he was, deducting that he wasn't using an Invisibility Cloak because there were no places for him to stand without either casting a shadow or being in the way of the students.
Something made me turn my head and stare at the window, at the heavy red curtain that hung to one side of it. It must have been some strange sound, but I did. Before my eyes, a figure began to appear, slowly, as if it took time to gather all its pieces from the air around it. Before my eyes, our defence teacher came into view. It had to be him; who else would be hiding in the Defence classroom in time for our class? I stared at him, but he just glanced at me before looking at the rest of the class.
I have to say, he was very unlike any other Defence teacher we ever had. He seemed to favour black where the others had gone for brown, turquoise, purple and a horrible cardigan, and not the normal, baggy robes either; more like the shirts and suits Muggles wore, but not quite. He was very tall, where the others had been short to average. And he had longer hair than any of the others put together. He kept it braided down his back, though some of it escaped him and hung in his eyes. They were a peculiar, not to say freakish colour, kind of like mine. They were, and I kid you not, red. Freaky. And I thought mine were weird.
He walked to the front of the classroom, and stood there with his arms crossed for a minute or two, before he raised his eyebrow silently. The class were still talking, with the exception of me and Millicent. He cleared his throat to get their attention, and it snapped around immediately. Granger had the grace to look slightly embarrassed.
"Of all of you, only one person managed to realise I was here," He said, speaking in a low, calm voice, though there was a hint of amusement to it. "I do not wish to know why this was the case, although I could probably blame your lack of decent teachers in my subject over the years, but this will have to change."
Everyone watched him silently, and Potter looked a bit angry for some reason. I raised my eyebrow; surely the professor hadn't said anything insulting yet, had he? I had to keep myself from grinning, as the new professor seemed like the kind to be suspicious of grinning students, but I was pleased that someone had managed to make Potter angry even without meaning to. Potter was a constant annoyance in my life, and therefore I enjoyed every bit of anger directed his way.
"You are all here because you have proven yourself apt at my subject, but before the year is out, you will have to become even better." The teacher rattled on, fixing each of us with a stare. "I will not accept that any of you get a lower result than Exceeds Expectations on your end-of-year exams. I will take it as a personal insult, and you do not want me as your enemy. There will be no free time for you, until you have done your homework and checked it twice. There will be test at least once a week, and I will not accept anyone failing these. Any questions before I go on?"
No one dared to ask anything, not even Granger, having been frightened by his sudden appearance. But I raised my hand quickly, trying to keep the smile contained; now would not be a good time to starts grinning. Not that I wasn't thankful for my natural ability to laugh at anything returning. It just wasn't a good time. The teacher nodded at me, and I pulled my hand down again.
"Yes, you, what is your name?" He asked before I had a chance to open my mouth.
"Zabini, sir." I replied, "I have a question; no one had seen it fit to supply us with your name, so we have no idea of how to address you. Would you mind giving us your name, or is that a well kept secret?"
"My mother always did say I left my manners at the door," He mumbled before nodding quickly and turning to the rest of the class, "My name is Vincent Lucas, but you will address me as Professor Lucas or sir only, anything else will result in removal of points from your House."
I blinked. Well, if that wasn't strict, I didn't know what was. McGonagall was simple to handle compared to this one. Snappish, but fair. I liked that. I didn't really care if the teacher insisted on being called "Daisy" when his real name was Charles, as long as he or she was fair to the students. I had seen way too much favouritism to be able to stand it anymore. I re-focused on Professor Lucas again, once more noting that very odd colour of his eyes.
"From the documentation of your classes, which has been very weak and random in places, it appears you have learned just about what a normal third year student knows. In class, that is," He added, raising an eyebrow, "I am well aware of the extra-curricular spell-teachings that goes on at Hogwarts. Even the disorganised ones. As all of you passed your O.W.L's with distinction, I shall hazard a guess and say you have been reading non- class required material as well. Hopefully, this year's book will be enough for you. Open it up on the first page, and you will see what we shall be learning this year."
I pulled out my book and turned to the first page, praying that it was still there and not incinerated. Thankfully, it wasn't, and I could read that our first lesson would be a repeat of what we had learned last year, just to see what we remembered. I made a mental list of what we had actually learned, and came up pretty short. Number one; don't trust people in woolly cardigans, number two; don't sleep in the Defence lessons, number three; don't trust people in woolly cardigans. And that was about it.
Professor Lucas was writing something on the blackboard. "I have sworn thee fair and thought thee bright, who art black as hell and dark as night", it read, puzzling me for a moment. Why would he be writing poetry on the blackboard at a time like this? He turned around again, and looked at the class. His gaze lingered on me for a moment, or rather my book, but amounts to the same thing.
"Mr Zabini, please see me after class," He said abruptly, leaving me blinking. What did I do? "We have no more time right now, as this lesson had to be shorter than the others by necessity. Write down the phrase on the blackboard, and it will be your homework to learn it till next time. You may leave."
Alright, that was the oddest Defence lesson I'd had in all my time at Hogwarts, and with my teachers, that's saying something. What he wanted with me was still a puzzle though; I had done nothing but ask for his name, and he wanted to see me after class. Maybe he wasn't used to students talking in his classroom, or even daring to ask questions. While I had liked Professor Lucas good enough at the beginning of the lesson, he was beginning to get on my nerves by now.
*****'
Ending Notes; and enter a new and shocking teacher. I wonder where Blaise will go next? *sigh* This is what happens when you write without a firm plotline; your characters run away with the story.