Entry 4,
2nd September 1938,
Library,
Hogwarts:
As you can expect, classes were an odious affair.
It's not that I don't enjoy learning - I'd say I'm certainly smarter than my new classmates, thank you very much. Our family has a good collection of books, many of which are lone copies, and I honestly find little pleasure outside our library. And I can appreciate that Hogwarts houses its own impressive library and most of the professors are upstanding members of their fields. While Father studied with our own kind, my mother went to Hogwarts and she was by no means lesser for it. I find myself questioning how she survived have to share a room with annoying children though. Perhaps the girl's dorms are better?
After returning from Dippet's office, we were bombarded by the other Slytherin boys in Charms class. Abigor eagerly fed them the lie that Dippet was simply saying hello to the children of an old student, and relished the envy in the boys. Our Professor was another non human like us, a goblin descendant with whispy brown hair. He seemed surprised to see us not hiding ourselves. He gave a wide smile after he got over his shock, and didn't seem to mind when I blandly stared back. At the very least, he proved to be an entertaining and efficient teacher.
News of the firstie vampires of Slytherin had already spread on our first day of class; in every hall, people were staring and gawking. I even heard an obviously uneducated muggleborn ask why we weren't burning in the sunlight (honestly). Abigor soaked it all up, widely smirking at everyone we passed. I trailed next to him while he prattled away and I snapped every now and then (if he thought I was going to forgive him that easily...). Some blond kid in our house hurried to my brother's other side and introduced himself - Allen? Artie? Who knows, Malfoy something - while the other Slytherins followed, seemingly happy to bet that we knew where our next class was. Essentially, we were following a group of first years in the red house. Sickie seemed to sullenly follow at the back of our group, but as we turned every corner my peripheral caught his eyes.
Potions turned out to be as fascinating as it was with Father, minus the very real threats of making me drink my potions if they turned the wrong colour. While the Professor was an insufferable suck up ("Oh you must be the Gallow boys! I remember your mother, brilliant young witch she was!"), I couldn't blame him. Social standing seemed to be extremely important in our house, so the extra attention went a long way. With the way Abigor was charming the other boys in our house, I was getting the impression that I could leave all the PR to him while I lived in the library for the next year.
The rest of our classes continued in much the same fashion. History of Magic was rather amusingly a favoured time to sleep, Herbology was messy and Defense Against The Dark Arts was entertaining for the fact that our Professor seemed to have a stifling fear of vampires. My brother and I exchanged a look, and I just knew we were going to enjoy this extensively.
Yours,
Daegen the Mildly Uncomfortable, son of Diabolos John Gallow.