Alina Nightshade doesn't think much about James Potter. Only that he seems rather keen on being annoying.
James Potter thinks Alina Nightshade is a mystery all wrapped up in a very pretty girl. And he is keen on trying to be her friend.
James Potte...
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It's nearing lunchtime, and Alina has only one more class to endure before the break: Defense Against the Dark Arts.
She quickly bids Peter goodbye, weaving her way through the bustling hallways packed with students heading to their next classes.
This week feels endless. The first-week schedule shuffle, thanks to students swapping courses, has thrown everything into disarray. It's rather irritating.
Taking a steadying breath, Alina navigates the crowded corridor toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.
When she finally arrives, the room is already abuzz with chatter as students mill about, waiting for the lesson to begin. Alina's gaze sweeps over the desks, quickly noticing the neat name cards arranged on each.
Assigned seating. Of course.
She rolls her eyes subtly and begins searching for her name among the rows of desks. Eventually, she spots her place in the middle of the room. Next to it is another name:
James Potter.
For Merlin's sake.
Alina's nails bite into her palms as she forces herself to sit, shoving down the flood of thoughts and memories tied to that name. Her bag lands with a thump on the back of her chair as she turns forward, resolutely ignoring her new seatmate.
At the front of the classroom, the professor's name is written neatly on the blackboard: Lila Elm.
The woman herself sits nearby, radiating an aura of confidence. Her blonde hair is streaked with vibrant colors—pink, blue, and green—and her tanned skin suggests months spent basking in a sunlit place far from gloomy England.
The screech of a chair being pulled out beside her shatters Alina's thoughts.
She doesn't need to look to know who it is. The familiar scent of berries reaches her before the figure even sits down. James Potter.
Alina keeps her eyes fixed ahead, determined to appear wholly uninterested. She notices his movements out of the corner of her eye: the slight hesitation, the faint tremor in his hands as he settles into the seat next to her.
Still, she refuses to acknowledge him, focusing instead on the new professor, who stands and begins addressing the class.
"Good afternoon," Professor Elm greets, her voice steady and commanding. Her sharp gaze sweeps the room. "My name is Mrs. Elm, and my goal is simple: to prepare you for the challenges that lie beyond the walls of this school. Whether you're facing malicious curses, dangerous creatures, or even the darker parts of yourself, this class is about equipping you with the tools to stand strong and make the right choices."
Alina tunes out almost immediately after the professor's opening speech. The usual rundown of the syllabus is hardly engaging, and truthfully, she couldn't care less.
