Order of the Sphinx... Why should HP get to have all the fun?

Chapter 8: First Day Dramas

A/N: Okay, I should proabably warn you know; this chapter has a few explicit swearwords so be prepared.

As always, I own nothing of the HP Universe; that belongs to miss J.K

All I own are Original characters and a special edition copy of the Last Sacrifice by Richelle Mead. God that book is brilliant!

Chapter 8: First Day Dramas.

You know how everyone goes on about how the first day is always the worst? Well in relation to mine, that was an understatement. A severe understatement. First of all, Ivy, Alice, Jen and I slept in, as for some reason Ivy’s “Wakeup” charm didn’t work properly and we all overslept. As a result, we were woken up by Will and Colin who were on their way to breakfast.

In a flurry of Gold, Red, Blue and Green, we hurriedly dressed. Neither having time to do it properly nor nicely the way I’d hoped, I just tugged on a yellow headband and left my long red waves out. We all ran down to the great hall just as the house elves were beginning to clear away breakfast, so we just grabbed the first thing we could. Most of the students had already made their way to classes, and so it was in a flurry we ran back to our dormitory’s grabbed all our textbooks and shoved them in our bags, grabbed the timetables which had been kindly left on the table in the lounge room and ran off to our first lessons of the day. For Jen and I, ours wasn’t the best option for two people who were yet to know how to cast the simplest charm.

Defence against the Dark Arts.

I suppose the bumbling professor, Professor Graham Greene, who seemed to change personalities as quick as he made us turn the pages in our text books, sort of unknowingly did Jen and I a favour. When he made us turn to a page on information about werewolves, which he was so adamantly concerned were determined to overrun muggle England then declare war on the Wizarding world, I was at least in a realm I knew; Both Jen and I were fantasy romance freaks, and knew heaps of legend on the beasts, so we were able to cruise through the lesson mostly unnoticed.

Professor Graham Greene, an author turned professor, had apparently began teaching at the post since the beginning of the year, and was one in a long line of professors who all seemed to disappear at the end of each school year. He was middle aged and wasn’t attractive in the slightest. He was a reasonably tall man with a lanky, almost wiry frame. He had large round tortoise shell glasses which magnified his brown eyes to look almost like a bugs. He had already started to grey and as a result, had what I liked to call, salt and pepper hair. He had a small pug nose and thin reedy lips which constantly seemed to be moving.

Halfway through the class, I was hit in the back of the head by a ball of paper. Frowning, I picked it up and saw the scrawled handwriting with a simple note;

Hey Steve Irwin,

How’s the weather down there?

From the crocodile you tackled last night.

Smiling, I turned around to see Hamish who was giving me the most absurd grin, then winked when he saw me looking. Smoothing out the crumpled paper gently, trying not to make much noise I wrote him a letter back, sending it in a rather impressive throw back across the room.