A.N: Sorry for not updating sooner, a lot of stuff has just happened. Firstly, my laptop wouldn't let me onto , for about three days. Then, I found out that after only a year of living here, my mum has gotten promoted, which is great and all, except it means moving to the other side of the country. So, I'm going to try and update as much as I can, through the move and all. Thank you for putting up with me, you guys are amazing.
P.S: I know on my last chapter I got mixed emotions, and I'm grateful to everyone for all the reviews. It was just something I had written, and thought I could fit in here. And a huge thanks to and if I dream for their advice on my grammar - it's really helpful, and I hope that there is no more slip-ups, although I feel like I should mention that I do have ADHD, which means I don't really notice these things.
P.P.S: This chapter is kind of, sort of, inspired by a scene that is a completely adorable exchange between Ezra and Aria, in Pretty Little Liars, and if you watch the show, you'll know exactly what I mean.
Ivory letterings illuminated on a charcoal board that hung at the front of the classroom. Scribbled on the blackboard, was the saying 'We've all got both light and dark inside of us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That's who we really are.'
Fascinated by the words on the board, rows of enamored first years sat, with their mouths hung agape, and their little, bright eyes wide. Each and every one of the eleven year olds were clasping hold onto their professor's every word with adoring magnestism.
The professor in question was none other then Harry James Potter, the Boy Who Lived. With unruly, inky locks, and rounded glasses, he didn't look any different from when he was a teenager - if you didn't count the smart and pristine white shirt, and navy tie. In some ways he was a teenager, being a young man of eighteen. However, after everything that had ever happened to him, he had grown up fast. He'd had to. He felt older then he was. He'd seen more death then he'd have liked too.
He was also the youngest Hogwarts professor in history - Hermione was forever reminding him.
"So class, I want you each to answer the question; are all werewolves bad? - and I want five reasons for why you think so" Harry asked his students, getting up off of his desk, and stretching his arms out slightly, making his way to his chair behind his table.
As his class scrambled for their quills, excitedly mumbling to their partners about their indicidual answers, a redheaded figure slipped in through the door, attracting the attention of everybody in the room - especially a certain professor.
Instead of whispering about their work, the first years turned their conversations to the newer, and far more interesting topic - Ginny Weasley. Amongst the students at Hogwarts, she was quite a legend. Stories of what she did last year, with Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood, spread like wildfire throughout the houses and year groups. Tales of her beauty, and compassion, and laughter, and bravery inspired people, and rang as true as she was pretty.
Myths also circled the school about this redhead, and the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Well, they were myths to the first-years - everybody else knew that the two were head-over-heels in love with each other.
Just the mere prescence of Ginny was enough to send the pupils into an enthusiastic and frantic bunch. Many of them shared a seat with her at the Gryffindor table, in the Great Hall, and they all felt the need to share this information. For some, they'd only ever heard stories, and were excited to finally see her, just as they had been when Harry Potter walked into their classroom a few weeks ago, to announce he was their teacher.
Glancing at the board, Ginny flashed the first years a grin, and in a hushed voice, spoke to them.
"Careful how you answer that now, my brother's a werewolf - and trust me when I say, he's a huge softie."
Smiling, the students were quick to write their answers, some changing their opinions, to the dismay of their professor.
"Miss Weasley, could you . . . um . . . could you please refrain from swaying my . . . pupil's beliefs, please?" Nerves were evident in his voice, for what reason, they didn't know.
Bowing her head in mock compliance, Ginny apologised, somewhat sarcastically. Then, winking at the giggling first-years, she glided across the room, making a beeline for the professor.
In her hand, she clutched a black exercise book. Leaning over the desk, she handed him the book.
"It's that essay on chimaeras you wanted, sir, sorry it's late" she told him, emphasis on the sir.
Looking behind her, she saw that every eye was on her. Holding up two fingers, which she pointed at her eyes, then at the pupils, they resumed their work, hastily. Chuckling slightly, she turned her attention back at Harry, who was skimming through her essay. He didn't look all that pleased with her effort.
"Ginny this is - "
Before he could say another word, Ginny slowly brought two hands to her cardigan, which she started to unbutton with a mischievious gleam in her eye. Gulping, he watched, with both anticipation, and anxiety. As her pepper-coloured cardigan came undone, Harry could see that she had fastened a note to her tie, with a paperclip. It read; 'Who do you have to screw to get an O around here?'. Shuffling uncomfortably in his chair, he loosened his collar a little. He stifled a laugh, and smiled a little.
Picking up a quill, he moved his hand in one swift and fluid motion. Handing her the book back, she grinned, spotting a large O scrawled across the page.
"Well done Ginny, this is a very fine piece of work" he told her, trying to sound as geniune as he could, without smirking.
Winking, she swivelled round to face the class again, after doing up her cardigan, ensuring that the note was well and truly concealed.
Walking past a little blond boy, with striking green eyes, she glimpsed at his parchment, and smiled. Bending down, she kissed his forehead. "Good answer - I like you" she muttered to the beaming boy.
Then, she left the room, giving one last smile to the professor behind the desk.
Furrowing his eyebrows, Harry got up out of his chair, and made his way towards the first-year. Peeking at his answer, Harry chuckled, despite himself.
Werewolves can't all be bad because Ginny Weasley told me her brother is one, and she's very nice, and said that her brother is nice too, so I don't think that all werewolves are evil if Ginny has one for a brother and still likes him. Also, I saw a music video once where a werewolf that looked a lot like Michael Jackson started dancing. It was rather good.
