It's with the Slytherins, because of course it is. All the worst classes are. However, it means that you now have Care of Magical Creatures with the Hufflepuffs, so you don't have to listen to Draco Malfoy's loud speculations on Hagrid's whereabouts, so you'll take the trade-off for now.
"I can't believe they added another class in our fifth year," Lavender Brown is saying as you pile into the classroom. It's a large hall with curved tables staggered down stairs facing a desk and chalkboard at the front, in a formerly unoccupied classroom between Ancient Runes and Muggle Studies. "We're already overloaded with OWLS coming up."
"We're just the unlucky ones," Hermione says. "They added the class to every year."
"Even the NEWTS students?" Lavender asks, and Hermione nods.
You take a seat and for the first time start to sort out the packet of books you were handed. Some of them are more like pamphlets than books, only twenty or thirty pages. One is the novel Hermione picked out on the train; one is a hardcover Muggle textbook, The Laws and Government of Britain, and the last is a similarly sized wizarding text, The Magic of Law and Its Applications. Unsure which you are going to need, you stack them all on the table to the side of where you'll need to write. Hermione has done likewise, except her pile also has the rolled-up copy of the Daily Prophet on the top. There are copies of the newspaper dotted around the room.
The Slytherins, as is typical, have taken up their positions on the opposite side of the aisle between the curves of tables. Most of them have similar piles of books in front of or beside them, except that they've omitted the Muggle textbook.
There's silence in the classroom just long enough to build tension before Professor Solus opens the door from his office into the classroom. It's an entrance that would be impressive if you hadn't seen similar from Snape every year to date; the telling difference is that with a wave of his hand, Professor Solus dims most of the candles hanging over the room until the immediate environment of his desk and board is all that is well-lit, with the rest of the room in mild darkness akin to the dungeons.
He doesn't call roll; instead, he sweeps behind the desk - which is tall enough that he doesn't need to bend terribly far to write on it, probably Transmuted to the exact height he needs - and marks something off on a sheet of paper there.
"You can put the books away for now," he says. "We will begin by going over expectations for the class, and any questions you may have, which I expect will take most if not all of the class period. You may take notes as you see fit."
There's a lot of shuffling as students put their books back in their bags. As they do, Professor Solus raises a hand, and with a sharp snap of his fingers - you realize, suddenly, that you haven't once seen him draw his wand - sheets of paper flutter out to each individual student.
It is, in fact, paper, rather than parchment. You have to touch it to confirm, and wind up rubbing your fingers on the familiar texture of Muggle printer paper longer than you expect. It's written in pen, with none of the splatters and irregular places of a quill fading away before being dipped in the ink again. Ron, next to you, is squinting at it suspiciously.
It is at that moment that you realize, casting your gaze over the rest of the class and seeing the reactions everyone else is having, that this is going to be, if nothing else, the most interesting class of the year.
no subject
"I can't believe they added another class in our fifth year," Lavender Brown is saying as you pile into the classroom. It's a large hall with curved tables staggered down stairs facing a desk and chalkboard at the front, in a formerly unoccupied classroom between Ancient Runes and Muggle Studies. "We're already overloaded with OWLS coming up."
"We're just the unlucky ones," Hermione says. "They added the class to every year."
"Even the NEWTS students?" Lavender asks, and Hermione nods.
You take a seat and for the first time start to sort out the packet of books you were handed. Some of them are more like pamphlets than books, only twenty or thirty pages. One is the novel Hermione picked out on the train; one is a hardcover Muggle textbook, The Laws and Government of Britain, and the last is a similarly sized wizarding text, The Magic of Law and Its Applications. Unsure which you are going to need, you stack them all on the table to the side of where you'll need to write. Hermione has done likewise, except her pile also has the rolled-up copy of the Daily Prophet on the top. There are copies of the newspaper dotted around the room.
The Slytherins, as is typical, have taken up their positions on the opposite side of the aisle between the curves of tables. Most of them have similar piles of books in front of or beside them, except that they've omitted the Muggle textbook.
There's silence in the classroom just long enough to build tension before Professor Solus opens the door from his office into the classroom. It's an entrance that would be impressive if you hadn't seen similar from Snape every year to date; the telling difference is that with a wave of his hand, Professor Solus dims most of the candles hanging over the room until the immediate environment of his desk and board is all that is well-lit, with the rest of the room in mild darkness akin to the dungeons.
He doesn't call roll; instead, he sweeps behind the desk - which is tall enough that he doesn't need to bend terribly far to write on it, probably Transmuted to the exact height he needs - and marks something off on a sheet of paper there.
"You can put the books away for now," he says. "We will begin by going over expectations for the class, and any questions you may have, which I expect will take most if not all of the class period. You may take notes as you see fit."
There's a lot of shuffling as students put their books back in their bags. As they do, Professor Solus raises a hand, and with a sharp snap of his fingers - you realize, suddenly, that you haven't once seen him draw his wand - sheets of paper flutter out to each individual student.
It is, in fact, paper, rather than parchment. You have to touch it to confirm, and wind up rubbing your fingers on the familiar texture of Muggle printer paper longer than you expect. It's written in pen, with none of the splatters and irregular places of a quill fading away before being dipped in the ink again. Ron, next to you, is squinting at it suspiciously.
It is at that moment that you realize, casting your gaze over the rest of the class and seeing the reactions everyone else is having, that this is going to be, if nothing else, the most interesting class of the year.