Chapter 5 – Professor Stickler

"Good morning. Finally," said Liz as Michael slid into a seat across from her the next morning, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

"How long does it take you to get ready?" Rachel asked.

"Five minutes," he yawned.

"So...you're saying you overslept?"

"No, I slept the exact amount I wanted to: about nine hours."

"I haven't slept that long since I was five," said Rachel.

"Well, I never get to sleep that long at home. Mum's always nagging me to do chores and things."

"Third-year timetables," called Professor Weasley's voice. A stack of papers made its way down the table, getting smaller and smaller as each person found their schedules. Michael scowled at his.

"What is it?" asked Rachel.

"I don't believe I signed up for Muggle Studies," he answered, wadding his up and stuffing it in his bag. "It's going to be the most boring thing ever. Besides, my mum is Muggle-born; I could just ask her if I had any questions about Muggles."

"Well, it sounded better than the alternatives," said Rachel. "I mean, Arithmancy? Blech. Divination sounds iffy. And Ancient Runes—" (She cast a quick glance at Liz.) "—sounds hard."

"Just say it. It sounds stupid, doesn't it?" said Liz.

"Well...yes, I suppose it does," Rachel agreed.

Once breakfast was over, they left the Great Hall for their first class of the day: Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"I wonder what the teacher will be like?" said Rachel.

"I wonder if we'll have a teacher," said Michael. "I'm beginning to believe the job is jinxed."

"We only need a teacher if they're willing to teach for one year," Liz responded, shifting the weight of her books from one arm to the other, "and we wouldn't have to class on our schedule if there wasn't a teacher. But I agree, having the job does seem to bring bad luck."

They entered the classroom. Standing in front was a short, balding man with a great bushy twitching moustache. He wrung his hands nervously as his first class filed in. He was a pitiable little man; Liz found herself feeling sorry for the fact that all the hair he could have had on his head was in his moustache.

"M-m-m-my name is V-Vernous P-Pumjy. H-how are y-you t-today?" And he smiled rather meekly around at the class, who were so much more numerous than him. "R-right. Open y-your t-tests to p-page f-five, p-please."

The lesson was boring, even by Liz's standards. Professor Pumjy jumped at the smallest things. Michael accidentally dropped a quill, and he leaped a foot into the air. Everyone's notes were punctuated with long marks where they had looked up to see what was the latest problem.

"That was awful," Liz said as they left. "What's next?"

"Ooh, Care of Magical Creatures!" said Rachel. "Let's go!"

They left the castle and set off toward Hagrid's cabin. A group of people had already gathered at the door, including many Slytherins. Winnie Chen and a friend were poking at Hagrid's windows with a stick.

"That one really is the limit," said Michael contemptuously.

The door swung open, and everyone near it backed up a few feet. Hagrid emerged, followed by Chris.

"I thought he didn't help with this class," said Rachel.

"Hello, class! Welcome ter Care o' Magical Creatures," said Hagrid. "Before we begin, I'd like ter take a chance ter welcome my new teacher's aid, Chris Scott. I'm sure some o yeh have seen 'im around before. Now that's settled. Yeh've got ter be wary when dealin' with interestin' creatures. No proddin' 'em or anythin' like that. Today I brought knarls." He produced a bag of quivering, spiky brown balls. "Look jus' like porcupines, don' they? Trick is, they're highly suspicious. Won' take no food owner doesn' give 'em. Think they're bein' poisoned. But these here are pretty trusting, they let the sixth-years pet 'em, so get in groups o' three and take a knarl."

Liz, Rachel, and Michael moved forward and took one. It snapped at Michael's fingers, so Liz took it. Chris came to join them, making sure Hagrid was busy. He was trying to pull a particularly rowdy knarl off Winnie Chen's hand.

"How has it been so far?" Chris asked.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts was a dud," said Michael promptly. "The new professor is afraid of his own shadow."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Chris said.

"This is our second class, so, that's about it," said Liz. "I like this knarl, it's funny."

"I don't think it likes me much," said Michael, who was keeping his fingertips away from the creatures' mouth.

"Me either. Stupid quills," said Rachel, who had just gotten poked by one.

"It's your first time," said Chris. "You'll get better at it."

After a while, Hagrid told them all to bring the knarls back to him for a head count of both students and knarls.

"Bye, little fellow," Liz said softly as it scampered into its box.

"Muggle Studies next," said Rachel. Michael groaned.

"I have Ancient Runes," said Liz.

Chris said, "You'll do fine." He seemed to know she was worried about it. "You'll be the best in the class, I bet."

"Thanks," Liz said. "Bye!"

Rachel and Michael left her at a right-hand corridor, so she came to a small flight of stairs by herself. He couldn't see the top. "Here goes nothing," she muttered to herself, and began the ascension.

The stairs were much higher up than Liz had thought they were; they spiraled up and up and seemed to go on forever. At last she came to a dimly lit corridor, at the end of which was a door. The doorknob felt smooth against her hot hand as she twisted it open.

"Elizabeth Potter, I presume?"

Sitting behind a desk was a man of no great stature, but he possessed a maddening air of authority. The rest of the class had already been seated. Liz looked around at her classmates, which included many Ravenclaws and—David Hannigan! But Liz's heart dropped when she saw Bettie Hess avoiding her eye.

"Late two minutes, Miss Potter," said the teacher. "Two points from Gryffindor. Please take a seat."

Liz was shocked. Besides Snape, who hated her anyway, no teacher took points from her. She took the last remaining seat by John Peterson, feeling very wrong footed.

"I am Professor Stickler," said the teacher, beginning to pace around the room. "These are the rules. Be on time." His eyes lingered on Liz for a second. "Come prepared for class. And ALWAYS," he said, slapping his wand on the desk so most of the class jumped, "raise your hand to speak. Follow these rules and you will do well in my classroom. If you don't, you can expect extra homework and an unhappy mark come exam time. Any questions?"

"Yeah," John muttered. "When are you going to lighten up?"

Liz couldn't help giggling. Professor Stickler's eyes show toward her like an arrow toward its target. "Is there something in the rules you find amusing, Miss Potter?"

"N—no," said Liz, fighting to keep a straight face.

"Good. I don't doubt many of you are wondering what Ancient Runes is all about."

There was a dull murmur of assent through the class.

"Yes, I figured as much. The Ancient Runes, the originals, are found on the east coast of Sardinia, on the Tyrrhenian Sea, in an underwater cave. Many languages were modeled after them, so we will be studying those tongues and the original markings."

A couple people moaned. Professor Stickler's eyes flashed and they were still.

Liz was feeling decidedly better about this. Dead languages, she could do. She sat forward eagerly in her seat.

"Please take out your books. The title is in the alphabet of the writers of the Ancient Runes. We'll be covering them, too."

For the rest of the class, Stickler showed then pictures of the caves where the Ancient Runes were, and a vague image of the entire thing. "We'll be studying each one in great detail," he announced as the bell rang, signifying their release. Everyone stood.

"What do you think you are doing? Sit," he commanded. Everyone sat. "The bell does not dismiss the class. The teacher does. The bell is a guideline for me." He paused. "You may leave. Good day."

Liz hurried past Bettie with mixed feelings about what she had gotten herself into. What it was, exactly, she wasn't sure yet.