6. I will not go to class skyclad.


As I come out of my dormitory, I try to imagine what Professor McGonagall's reaction will be. Cries of "What the HELL?", "Put some clothes on!", and "Crazy first year!" (and even "MY EYES!") follow me down to the Great Hall. Fifteen seconds after I set foot in the Great hall (I counted) Professor McGonagall is by my side.

"What—exactly—are you doing?"

"I'm going to class skyclad, Professor."

McGonagall's lips are thin. She takes off her robe and hands it to me, saying, "Put this on, then go put on some clothes on. Then put them in the laundry."

I start to protest, but think better of it. At least I didn't get detention.