The Impatient Man and His Suit

The Professor of Unexpected Appearance

With a sudden entrance into the dining area and preceding from a long and narrow hallway, Draco Malfoy appeared, his skin less pale than I had ever seen it before and his eyes visibly rested. Cleanly shaven as well, he seemed recovered from his long journey. Rolling up his sleeves, he walked with a motivated air. Making sudden eye contact, the ball rolled from my hand and onto the stone floor, making an awful clank that resonated throughout the spacious room. It rolled for a while but came to an abrupt stop as its motion was interrupted by the friction of a cracked tile.

I could feel warmth rushing into my face and stones beginning to settle into my stomach. I then realized I had undeniably entered the wrong house. My lips parted in confusion and my vocal cords buzzed, "I-I'm sorry I thought this was—"

"Where's your cauldron?" he interrupted, looking at the table where my books sat. He breathed in and out with long breaths while shutting his eyes, then spoke briskly, "It's alright, you can use mine for now," and turned around to enter the living room.

I stood in the same spot with the same awe-struck expression until he came back, a large caldron in his arms. Setting the giant pot onto the table, he reached for my bundle of books and began to unravel the twine holding them together. I was practically petrified with confusion and shock, I just stood still and watched him take up each textbook for observation. Pausing to look up at me, he began with a question:

"Have you got the list of materials still?"

Still entranced by the situation, I scrambled to search my coat pockets. Luckily, I had not taken out the letter since we boarded the train. Almost dropping it, I held out the crinkled paper. He appeared to be counting the number of books on the list and then continued to search the stack.

"What's this rubbish, I don't remember buying this," he started silently to himself. On the hardcover of "Lockhart's Guide to Middle-aged Wizard's and Witch's: Education Re-evaluation," the illustration of an old man smiling over his shoulder was painted, each row of his pearly white teeth glossed over for extra shine. Malfoy walked over to the fireplace and cast the poor little book into the fire, the chemicals of the paint squealing in the heat.

"B-but that's on the list! Why would you do that!" I exclaimed, snapping out of my trance.

"It's a load of rubbish. I can easily teach you that particular subject," Malfoy stated.

"I'm sorry...but..." I began immediately, "Are you my..."

Malfoy looked up at me once again, a familiar expression of annoyance. I faltered under his soft glare a bit, holding my tongue until he spoke. Although the man was still coarse to the edge and always seemed to be holding a breath of air in his lungs, his demeanor had completely changed in the aspect of his attention. His work was laid out and he seemed determined to get it done. I just hoped that the substance within his way of teaching would prove to be equally ambitious.

"It is obvious, isn't it? You should honestly work on your observatory skills..." he said softly as he continued sifting through the books.

Trying to settle the uncomfortable situation into my peace of mind, I gave myself a stress headache within the span of three and a half minutes. I didn't know what to think or do. If I really was persistent in having nothing to do with this continually disagreeable man, then I would've gathered my things and left immediately. But his suddenly forward-thinking demeanor held me in place to linger in that dining room. He seemed more alert and assertive to the task at hand. I should at least like to see how the day goes...I thought.

"We've forgotten a lexicon...although those fools forgot to even put it on the list. I take it that you've forgotten your quill and parchment as well?" he started again after checking off all the books on the list. A sort of shameful chill ran up my spine as I realized I had left both things in my cauldron at home. His preparations and acts of assertiveness were uncanny to his personality, but unmatched when compared to my own. I felt almost embarrassed.