Chapter Two, Part Two, the second half of The First Day on the Second Day
A bell rings, signaling the end of lunch. Time for Literature and Grammar (and all that stuff like Clarity in Writing, which screwed my English grade (Oh, sorry, had to rant, it sent my grade to a C)... Harry went along with his new acquaintances to his first class, with a Professor McGonagall, whom Ron said is, "A right old hag!" which Draco replied with a, "Yeah cause you sleep through her classes."
"Shut up Malfoy!"
"Fellows, take it to the pitch later," P.J. stepped between his mates.
Another bell rang when Harry arrived inside room 218. Everyone but Harry of course sat in their seats.
"Good afternoon class," Professor McGonagall. The class replied with the usual, yeah, and mumblings of a typical high school class.
"Mister Potter, I presume?" she asked Harry.
"Yes, ma'am." She gave him a book and assigned him a desk, first row, by her desk, second seat, behind an already snoozing Ron, yes in the first seat, in the first row, full view of Professor McGonagall!
"Mr. Weasley, can you name an American author?"... "Mr. Weasley, Did you here the question?"
Ron sat up and said, "A plus B equals C?"
"No, Mr. Weasley, wrong class, can you name an American Author?"
Ron stared at her clueless.
"Any author, Mr. Weasley?"
"Mark Twain?"
"Good, Mr. Weasley, you've named an American Author, can you name a novel he wrote?"
Ron blinked. "Green Eggs and Ham?"
"No, Mr. Weasley, can anyone name one?"
After a few minutes of silence, "Huck Finn," Harry mumbled.
"Right, Mr. Potter, could you repeat that?"
"The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn."
"Excellent, can any one else name anything?"
By the end of the hour, the point was made and gotten to, tomorrow they'd be going to the library to pick out a book.
"What a waste of a lesson," Ron said as they exited.
"Weasley, you were sleeping."
"So."
"What do you have next Potter?"
"Sprout."
"Art, then?"
"Yeah, whe."
"You'll find it in that hall off Snape's room," P.J. informed him, "see ya."
"What do you guys have?"
"Learning How To Cook Can Be Fun," Ron recited the class name.
"Or rather Learn How To Cook with Nazi Lady."
"No Patrick, it's Learn How To Cook with Nazi Frog Lady," Draco corrected him.
"Well, don't get, uh..... gassed."
"Thanks Harry, have fun."
"Yeah, I think my sister has Art with ya." And they went off to there two separate classes, Draco, Ron, and P.J. off to Learning How To Cook Can Be Fun and Harry off to Art.
Upon arriving in the Art room, Harry went over to Professor Sprout, a woman covered in dirt, or rather mud, no clay.
"Professor?"
"Yes?"
"Where shall I sit, ma'am?"
"Where you sat yesterday."
"It's my first day."
"Oh, sorry, hmm, let me see, there's a spot there, sit there, Mister?"
"Potter."
"Sit over there Mister Potter, by Hermione, what is your first name?"
"Harry."
"Well, sit there, Harry."
Harry sat down.
"Hello," Hermione greeted him.
"Hi."
"We're put next to each other a lot, eh?"
"Yeah... we are... er... what is it we're supposed to be doing?"
"Pinch pots, unfortunately."
"Why?"
"Because I'm rather, um horrible at them."
"Oh." ... "Where can I get some clay?"
"Sorry, over there."
"Thanks."
The rest of the hour was spent making misshapen pinch pots. Well, disastourous in the sense that they were lopsided and had varying wall thickness... (cauldron bottom thickness reports....ah!).
"What do you have next, Harry?" Hermione asked.
"Mythology."
"So do I."
"Cool, where is it?"
"Oh, down by McGonagall's room."
"Oh, okay."
The bell rand and they went to Mythology, where they were joined by P.J.
Professor Lupin looked especially startled at seeing Harry, assigning him a seat and starting class in a shocked state, giving Harry a book, and beginning the reading of Homer's Iliad out of the text book
"For tomorrow, read the next part, you can start now, Harry, may I speak with you, in my office?"
Harry followed Lupin into his office.
"I'm so sorry about Lily, if I hadn't found out so late I would have came to the funeral."
"How did you know my mother?"
"Your father was one of my best friends in school, I remember when you were a baby!"
"So, you know Sirius as well, then?"
"Of course I do! Haven't seen him in years, though, we all went our own ways after your James' death, you see."
"Ah." The bell rang.
"Your free to go, Harry."
"Bye Professor," and Harry left the office, grabbing his books and making his way to his locker.
At his locker, he pulled out his Sociology, History and Mythology books, shoving them into his backpack and down the stairs out the door.
As he walked through the parking lot, "HEY POTTER," called Draco and Ron.
Harry headed over there way. "Hey."
"Hey," they replied.
"What are you up to now, Potter?" P.J. asked from behind him.
"I'm going home, and I have to get some of those uniforms, like the rest of ya."
"What a bloody wonderful time!" Ron chimed in.
"Your telling me."
"Do you need a ride somewhere, Potter?" asked P.J.
"Nope, just walking to the bus."
"Why?"
"Have to get home somehow, don't I?"
"Guess so, see ya tomorrow, eh, Potter?"
"If I don't figure something better to do, dang nothing, of course I'll be here."
"See ya Potter."
"Bye," and he walked to the bus stop down the street.
Harry got back to Grimmauld at four-thirty, he used the front door and his key, going in, and through to the kitchen, grabbing a soda, before heading up to his room.
At five, Sirius came round, "Harry, how was your first day?"
"Fine, I have to get the uniform."
"Right, what is it? Still, the option of white dress shirt, tie and black pants, or sweater and black pants, and the black shoes?"
"Yeah."
"Let's go then."
There we have the next installment, crap I'm already running out of ideas, ah!!! I have a few popping in and out so, if ya got any, let me know. I'M FREE!!! I Graduated from High school last Sunday, whooptido. Saw Prisoner of Azkaban, yesterday, uh... Friday, it was great, though if you didn't read the book, you'd be going, what the hell! Who what where!.... I like it, it was better then the first 2 in my opinion... the first 2 are rather boring and too light and fluffy.... Okay I'll shut up before you chase me with pitch forks. Review please.... Please... Please.... Please, please.... Really, please.
A bell rings, signaling the end of lunch. Time for Literature and Grammar (and all that stuff like Clarity in Writing, which screwed my English grade (Oh, sorry, had to rant, it sent my grade to a C)... Harry went along with his new acquaintances to his first class, with a Professor McGonagall, whom Ron said is, "A right old hag!" which Draco replied with a, "Yeah cause you sleep through her classes."
"Shut up Malfoy!"
"Fellows, take it to the pitch later," P.J. stepped between his mates.
Another bell rang when Harry arrived inside room 218. Everyone but Harry of course sat in their seats.
"Good afternoon class," Professor McGonagall. The class replied with the usual, yeah, and mumblings of a typical high school class.
"Mister Potter, I presume?" she asked Harry.
"Yes, ma'am." She gave him a book and assigned him a desk, first row, by her desk, second seat, behind an already snoozing Ron, yes in the first seat, in the first row, full view of Professor McGonagall!
"Mr. Weasley, can you name an American author?"... "Mr. Weasley, Did you here the question?"
Ron sat up and said, "A plus B equals C?"
"No, Mr. Weasley, wrong class, can you name an American Author?"
Ron stared at her clueless.
"Any author, Mr. Weasley?"
"Mark Twain?"
"Good, Mr. Weasley, you've named an American Author, can you name a novel he wrote?"
Ron blinked. "Green Eggs and Ham?"
"No, Mr. Weasley, can anyone name one?"
After a few minutes of silence, "Huck Finn," Harry mumbled.
"Right, Mr. Potter, could you repeat that?"
"The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn."
"Excellent, can any one else name anything?"
By the end of the hour, the point was made and gotten to, tomorrow they'd be going to the library to pick out a book.
"What a waste of a lesson," Ron said as they exited.
"Weasley, you were sleeping."
"So."
"What do you have next Potter?"
"Sprout."
"Art, then?"
"Yeah, whe."
"You'll find it in that hall off Snape's room," P.J. informed him, "see ya."
"What do you guys have?"
"Learning How To Cook Can Be Fun," Ron recited the class name.
"Or rather Learn How To Cook with Nazi Lady."
"No Patrick, it's Learn How To Cook with Nazi Frog Lady," Draco corrected him.
"Well, don't get, uh..... gassed."
"Thanks Harry, have fun."
"Yeah, I think my sister has Art with ya." And they went off to there two separate classes, Draco, Ron, and P.J. off to Learning How To Cook Can Be Fun and Harry off to Art.
Upon arriving in the Art room, Harry went over to Professor Sprout, a woman covered in dirt, or rather mud, no clay.
"Professor?"
"Yes?"
"Where shall I sit, ma'am?"
"Where you sat yesterday."
"It's my first day."
"Oh, sorry, hmm, let me see, there's a spot there, sit there, Mister?"
"Potter."
"Sit over there Mister Potter, by Hermione, what is your first name?"
"Harry."
"Well, sit there, Harry."
Harry sat down.
"Hello," Hermione greeted him.
"Hi."
"We're put next to each other a lot, eh?"
"Yeah... we are... er... what is it we're supposed to be doing?"
"Pinch pots, unfortunately."
"Why?"
"Because I'm rather, um horrible at them."
"Oh." ... "Where can I get some clay?"
"Sorry, over there."
"Thanks."
The rest of the hour was spent making misshapen pinch pots. Well, disastourous in the sense that they were lopsided and had varying wall thickness... (cauldron bottom thickness reports....ah!).
"What do you have next, Harry?" Hermione asked.
"Mythology."
"So do I."
"Cool, where is it?"
"Oh, down by McGonagall's room."
"Oh, okay."
The bell rand and they went to Mythology, where they were joined by P.J.
Professor Lupin looked especially startled at seeing Harry, assigning him a seat and starting class in a shocked state, giving Harry a book, and beginning the reading of Homer's Iliad out of the text book
"For tomorrow, read the next part, you can start now, Harry, may I speak with you, in my office?"
Harry followed Lupin into his office.
"I'm so sorry about Lily, if I hadn't found out so late I would have came to the funeral."
"How did you know my mother?"
"Your father was one of my best friends in school, I remember when you were a baby!"
"So, you know Sirius as well, then?"
"Of course I do! Haven't seen him in years, though, we all went our own ways after your James' death, you see."
"Ah." The bell rang.
"Your free to go, Harry."
"Bye Professor," and Harry left the office, grabbing his books and making his way to his locker.
At his locker, he pulled out his Sociology, History and Mythology books, shoving them into his backpack and down the stairs out the door.
As he walked through the parking lot, "HEY POTTER," called Draco and Ron.
Harry headed over there way. "Hey."
"Hey," they replied.
"What are you up to now, Potter?" P.J. asked from behind him.
"I'm going home, and I have to get some of those uniforms, like the rest of ya."
"What a bloody wonderful time!" Ron chimed in.
"Your telling me."
"Do you need a ride somewhere, Potter?" asked P.J.
"Nope, just walking to the bus."
"Why?"
"Have to get home somehow, don't I?"
"Guess so, see ya tomorrow, eh, Potter?"
"If I don't figure something better to do, dang nothing, of course I'll be here."
"See ya Potter."
"Bye," and he walked to the bus stop down the street.
Harry got back to Grimmauld at four-thirty, he used the front door and his key, going in, and through to the kitchen, grabbing a soda, before heading up to his room.
At five, Sirius came round, "Harry, how was your first day?"
"Fine, I have to get the uniform."
"Right, what is it? Still, the option of white dress shirt, tie and black pants, or sweater and black pants, and the black shoes?"
"Yeah."
"Let's go then."
There we have the next installment, crap I'm already running out of ideas, ah!!! I have a few popping in and out so, if ya got any, let me know. I'M FREE!!! I Graduated from High school last Sunday, whooptido. Saw Prisoner of Azkaban, yesterday, uh... Friday, it was great, though if you didn't read the book, you'd be going, what the hell! Who what where!.... I like it, it was better then the first 2 in my opinion... the first 2 are rather boring and too light and fluffy.... Okay I'll shut up before you chase me with pitch forks. Review please.... Please... Please.... Please, please.... Really, please.