CHAPTER NUMBER FIFTEEN: — the chamber has been opened ( history repeats itself )
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THINGS WEREN'T SO good the following morning. Ron, Harry and I had all been called into Professor Snape's office. As he clearly stated that he wanted the three of us expelled for, in his words, 'mistreating the school's grounds.' Luckily for us though, Professor McGonagall happened to stop by, making sure that this unnecessary expulsion didn't take place. Although Snape had said he would be writing to our parents, I really wasn't that worried. Mrs. Weasley had a heart gold, the consequences wouldn't, and couldn't have been that severe. I was sure of it.
Unfortunately, we had also earned ourselves a few detentions, too.
I was currently sitting in one of the many cozy armchairs of the Ravenclaw common room, quietly reading to myself before classes begun. It was one of the airiest rooms in all of Hogwarts, well in my opinion at least. The arched windows were hung with blue silks and the cerulean carpet reflected onto the domed ceiling. I was alone, since other students were down in the Great Hall, stuffing their faces with the delicious food that the school had to offer before classes begun. Honestly, it felt good to back.
My ears then twitched at the sound of the portrait door swinging open, I looked up from my book, and noticed Lisa, rapidly brushing down her robes, which was rather odd, since they looked completely spotless.
"I swear they need to make the riddles to get in here a bit easier." She shook her head, before rolling her eyes in a rather over the exaggerated manner. "O—of course not for my sake! Just think of those poor first years who won't have the slightest clue what to say!" She rambled on for a few more minutes before she plopped herself down onto an empty armchair beside mine.
"You know, I've been having such a bad day already!" Lisa complained, flicking a loose strand of hair behind her. "First off, some ghost walked right through me on my way here, completely ruining my new set of robes with its stupid dust—"
"But, your robes look fine—"
"And, that's not all!" She continued. "It didn't even say sorry! Just carried on its way." She sighed, coming up for air.
Before I was able to answer, the bell began to ring alarmingly around the common room. I sighed, knowing full well what my first class was, Defence Against the Dark Arts. It wasn't the class itself that bothered me, it was the teacher I knew would be taking it. Gilderoy Lockhart. The teacher which, for some odd reason, most girls took a fancy too. I'm glad I was one of the few who didn't.
Well, this lesson was going to be fun.
* * *
Drowsy and half dead looking students filled Gilderoy Lockhart's classroom. Their sweaty palms pressed up against their cheekbones with boredom. That's how interested we all were. We'd spent more or less the entire lesson listen to Lockhart ramble on about how many books he'd published, how much fan mail he received on a daily basis, and basically, stuff that nobody really cared about. Except of course for the girls who simply couldn't get enough of him.
