𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐋𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃 ━━ ғᴇᴍʜᴀʀʀʏ | ʜᴘ

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄, 𝖯𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Morana and her friends easily found their classes unlike some other students. She looked at the map in her hand while  Aries pout in his little side.

They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of 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.

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 next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him.

Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates, and got Emeric the Evil and Uric the Oddball 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.

At the start of their first class he took the roll call, and when he reached Morana's name he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight. Morana tiltee her hed in confused. "Maybe he knew my mother?" She thought.

Professor McGonagall was again different. Draco 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.”

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn’t wait to get started, but soon realized they weren’t going to be changing furniture into animals for a long time.  After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle.

By the end of the lesson, only Morana had made any difference to her match; Professor McGonagall showed the class how it had gone all silver and pointy and gave her a rare smile.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell’s lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke.

His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he’d met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren’t sure they believed this story.

For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather; for another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went.

Perseus snickers behind Theodore who was trying to hold back his laugh. Morana smiled remembering that her father told her how weak and stupid Quirell were and that they will learn Defence Against The Dark Art.

"Will we really passed the rest of the year with him as our teacher?" Draco muttered in disbelief. "Papa would teach us at home." Morana answered his question. Aftera while they all sit up and left.