CLASSES
The next day, Toka awoke early and went down to the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs. No other students were awake. Toka sat in an armchair by the unlit fireplace.
"Why did the wand spark in my hand? Am I magic, but not the same kind of magic as the wand? What am I if I'm not a wizard?
"why, the answer is quite simple." A voice answered. Toka jumped and glanced about the room, but no one was in sight. "You are as you are, they are not. The darkness fails in the presence of light."
"Who is that?" Toka continued to seek the source of this voice. "What do you mean?"
"... I may come again, but before I go, I must ask you, would you duel me sometime?"
"What?" Toka began to feel that the voice was coming from somewhere near the fireplace. "How does one duel a faceless voice?"
"Heheh... You've seen my face."
Toka was sure of it, the voice was coming from the fireplace."... Sure then, as long as it's a friendly duel, not a fight to the death or anything like that."
"Great. I'll see you in the Great Hall later, but the duel will have to wait until you're good and ready, perhaps after Christmas? Later then."
The strange voice puzzled Toka, but after David and Nicole woke he felt a little more at ease.
On their way to the Great Hall, they noticed a low, gentle melody strumming through the passageway. Following it, they discovered Templa, playing a small harp.
"Mae govannen. Sleep well?" He smiled, plucking out a pleasant tune. Headmaster Weasley turned the corner, and approached them.
"Ah, music," he said, listening intently.
"A magic beyond all we do here." Templa completed with a smile. "You know, that's the third time you've stopped by and said that."
Looking a little sheepish, but pleased nonetheless, he continued on his way.
Templa slung the harp over his shoulder and began to walk with them. "He's nice."
"Well, I slept like a rock. How about you, Templa?" David answered.
"Haha... Me? I sang in the starlight." Templa laughed.
"Oh, hey, that's right; Wood Elves don't need to sleep do they?" Toka mused.
David and Nicole turned, surprised.
"Yes, that's true... You read Tolkien don't you? He was an Elf Friend." Templa looked pleased.
After breakfast, Toka, David, and Nicole had to find their way to their class.
There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and David was sure the coats of armor could walk.
The ghosts didn't help, either. It was always a nasty shock when one of them suddenly glided through a door you were trying to open. Nearly Headless Nick was always happy to point new Gryffindors in the right direction, but Peeves the Poltergeist was worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if you met him when you were late for class. He would drop wastepaper baskets on your head, pull rugs from under your feet, pelt you with bits of chalk, or sneak up behind you, invisible, grab your nose, and screech, "GOT YOUR CONK!"
Even worse than Peeves, if that was possible, was the caretaker, Argus Filch, who'd as soon lock a student in the dungeon as help them. Filch owned a cat called Mrs. Norris, an aged, scrawny, dust-covered creature wuth bulging, lamplike eyes just like Filch's. She patrolled the corridors alone. Break a rule in front of her, put just one toe out of line, and she'd whisk off for Filch, who'd appear, wheezing, two seconds later. Filch knew the secret passageways of the school better than anyone (except perhaps Templa) and could pop up as suddenly as any of the ghosts. The students all hated him, and it was the dearest ambition of many to give Mrs. Norris a good kick.
And then, once you managed to find them, there were the classes themselves. There was a lot more to magic than waving a wand and saying a few funny words.
They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names and the movementsof the planets. Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for. Templa was perfectly at home with these classes.
Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up the next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates, and got Garod the Grim and Edward the Eccentric mixed up.
Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk.
Professor McGonagall was again different. Toka had been quite right to think she wasn't a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class.
"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."
Nicole showed McGonagall her pet cat, which she had already transfigured back, and with her permission, changed it to an owl and back for the class. McGonagall showed the class how her form had been well practiced and gave Nicole a rare smile.
The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but they discovered that the class was taught by Snape, Head of Slytherin House. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels. Toka had heard rumors that he always favored the Slytherins - and quickly saw it was true. It wasn't long before Gryffindor lost five points in all, and just their first week in class.
Friday was an important day for Toka, David, and Nicole. They finally managed to find their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast without Templa's help.
"What have we got today?" Nicole asked David as she poured sugar on her cream of wheat.
"Double Potions with the Slytherins," said David. "Malfoy's the teacher. According to Becky, he's only recently become a teacher at Hogwarts."
Just then, the mail arrived. Toka had gotten used to this by now, but it had given him a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfasat, circling the tables until they saw their owners, and dropping letters and packages onto their laps.
A large, ruddy colored owl fluttered down and dropped a note onto Toka's plate. Toka opened it. It said, in a very untidy scrawl:
Dear Toka, David, and Nicole,
I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three? I want to hear all about your first week. Send me an answer back with the owl.
Hagrid
Toka pulled out a pen and wrote Yes, please, see you later on the back of the note, and sent the owl off again.
Not five seconds later, another three owls dropped letters on Toka, David, and Nicole's plates. They were letters from their families. Toka's letter had been forwarded by David's parents.
Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled dead animals floating in glass jars all around the walls. Professor Malfoy was a pale man, with an extraordinary air of youth about him. His light, silvery blonde hair was combed back, and his eyes gazed piercingly upon his class.
"Ah... Fresh meat. I remember my first year at Hogwarts, not so very long ago... Professor Snape was the teacher then." He said in a faintly drawling tone "His words are still fresh in my mind;" suddenly speaking in barely more than a whisper, and sounding stunningly like Snape, he began, "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," Like McGonagall and Snape, Malfoy had the entire class's attention. He continued, "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the sofly simmering cauldron with it's shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach." He paused delicately, then returned to his usual manner of speech. "Yes... Well, I'm not Snape, and you are certainly not dunderheads. So if you pay attention..." He turned to Steve, who had been sniggering earlier when Draco had been imitating Snape. "I can teach you some useful potions skills early, and maybe even some... outside of the curriculum. Ten points to every house that can keep their yaps shut about it when we do... And remember: You are not to experiment outside of class."