A/N: Hello, I forgot to say before, thank you for pointing out that Gryffindor hadn't been included in the Hat's song! I felt mortified, but I have added a couple of lines for Gryffindor if anybody feels the need to read it. So much for summer, eh. All I can see is rain and grey sky.
- CHAPTER FIVE -
The First Class
Hermione's first class were Gryffindor and Slytherin second-years, she met them lined up outside the classroom and ushered them in. She was glad that she could start with something easy, but all the same, she wanted her lessons to be fun.
"Right, quiet please," she spoke loudly over the excited chatter of the students, they stopped talking and all put their eyes on her. "OK then, this year you'll be doing more complicated transfiguration, we want to especially focus on trying to get your finished objects looking as you wanted them. So let's see what you make of these."
She pulled a small cardboard box from the top drawer of her desk. The class all leaned forwards on their seats as she removed the lid, to several gasps from some students; about twenty sparkling butterflies fluttered out, all a different variety.
"OK," she said as the class craned their necks to watch the butterflies as they swarmed around the room. "What I want you to do is turn them into brooches –"
"Oh yeah," a Slytherin boy whispered audibly, "Because we all want butterfly brooches …"
"You will need to speak clearly and wave your wand over them like this," she waved her wand over her desk in a circle, "and say this," she pointed at one of the moving butterflies, a red admiral. "Papilligemmae."
The butterfly dropped out of the air and landed with a clatter on the stone floor. It had become a round brooch; the majority of it set with black tourmaline, but there were streaks of white diamonds and of glittering rubies. Most of the girls eyed it greedily.
"But don't worry," she added seeing some of their apprehensive looks, "I'll freeze them temporarily so you won't have to chase them around the classroom." She waved her wand and instantly they dropped to the floor unmoving, "be gentle with them, they'll come round at the end of the lesson so if you haven't been able to do it, they'll fly away."
Everybody leapt up from their seats with a clatter and scrambled to pick up a butterfly from the floor, "careful," she called, "it'll go wrong if you tear their wings."
She stood at the front of the class and watched as people began to wave their wands over the butterflies' lifeless forms, and muttering the spell. She watched a girl at the front prodding her butterfly and saying, "Paperlegimy," the butterfly shrivelled and curled up, thin black smoke began to rise from it.
"Hey, careful," Hermione came over to her, "what's your name?"
"Daisy Derwent, Professor." The girl mumbled sheepishly,
"Well Miss Derwent, were you listening to me? The spell is Papilligemmae, have another go." Hermione took another butterfly from the floor,
"But Professor," Daisy whined, "that one's green, I liked my old one better,"
"Well you should have thought about that before you ruined it." She pointed her wand at the crinkled brown shape. "Evanesco," she muttered vanishing it and ignoring Daisy's mutinous look.
She heard a whispered incantation that certainly wasn't going to transfigure the butterflies, and then loud bang and the crackle of flames.
"How's everyone else doing?" she looked up and saw that the class had all stopped prodding their wands at their own butterflies and were now whilst watching a boy in the second row who was trying to smother the flames that were leaping from his desk. From behind the smoke Hermione saw it was the Slytherin boy who had been sarcastic about her lesson earlier.
She pointed her wand at his desk as she walked over, wiped the flames from it, but not eradicating the thick smoke that surrounded him. "What's your name boy? What did you do?"
"Francis Lerrat, Professor," he smirked at her, "I only did what you told us to."
"I'm not stupid Lerrat, I heard you setting fire to it. Why are you deliberately disrupting my class?"
"I wasn't, Professor." she turned back to face the blackboard, but not before she had seen him grin at his friends.
"I saw that Lerrat, five points from Slytherin and I'll be talking to Professor Snape about -"
"How may I help?" Snape was standing in the doorway; he'd obviously been watching her class for at least the last few minutes by the way he was smirking. Hermione felt her face burning as he scanned the smoke filled classroom and the smouldering desk.
"Oh dear," he murmured, "You have been having some fun here."
"Professor Snape," she was determined not to let him win, "lucky you're here. I thought you should know that Mr Lerrat has been disturbing the class, deliberately. He set his desk on fire."
"A simple mistake, Professor Granger; he is only twelve, you can't expect him to be up to your high expectations already. Perhaps the work you've been setting them is too hard." He turned to the class, "how many of you have managed to complete the task Professor Granger set you?"
Nobody raised their hands; if it was possible for Hermione's face to get any redder it had. Snape turned to her, his lips forming a twisted smile, "There you are Professor Granger; you've obviously been setting work that is too hard for them."
"Thank you Professor Snape," she spat back odiously, "I'm sure your comments will be most helpful."
He smirked again and turned on his heel, shutting the door behind him. She turned back to the class who were all whispering, she was just about to speak when the bell rang. Instantly the remaining living butterflies fluttered upwards, followed by the crowd of students as they rushed to get out of the classroom.
She felt her hands form fists and she sat down at her desk, fuming. He had been watching her class just so he could come in and make a fool of her. Why did he have to hate her? She had always behaved in his lessons; she had never given him any cheek. She'd always been top of the class, what did he have against that? He might have called her an insufferable know-it-all, but had just wanted to learn.
Well whatever his problem was with her she wasn't going to let it get to her. She stood up sharply and looked down at her timetable; she thankfully had a free period, one of the only two she got in a week. She picked her bag up and walked to the staff room.
The door opened automatically for her and she stepped into the long room full of mismatched pieces of furniture. She sat down on a chair that seemed to have been covered with the same carpet as the floor and opened her bag. She pulled out the fifth-year textbook and immersed herself in it to decide how best to tackle Vanishing with them.
An hour later she came out of the staff room holding a bag of buttons for them to practise Vanishing. And she walked back to her classroom hoping that her second lesson would be a lot more successful than her first.
A/N: I know it's short, I know. I just thought it would drag a bit too much if I left it longer. Anyway, I have a great idea for a new fic which is going to be incredibly hard to pull off, but should be fun. Hope you enjoyed that.