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"It will be for next week my good and extraordinary students!"
On this last exclamation of the fraud, the bell rang, letting the flow of Ravenclaws and Gryffindors charge outside the class with alacrity. Well to be fair, the Ravenclaw and the Gryffindors who had bothered to come. The number was in constant diminution since September and it was unlikely it would climb up until the end of the year's exams. By the start of the Winter Holidays, every alumnus of Hogwarts which was not a rabid fan-girl of Lockhart had realised Defence Against the Dark Arts was a course worked in self-study and self-study alone. Without Lockhart books, needless to say.
Professor Flitwick had not authorised the members of Ravenclaw House to avoid the course entirely, and there was a limit to the number of diseases, cold, illnesses or moral breakdown a student could suffer each Wednesday. As a consequence, the Ravens assisted to this joke of magical teaching in turn. Well, in turn except Morag and Alexandra. The rest of their housemates were definitely not inclined in sharing with them old archives or covering their absences.
But the presence of six Ravens today to assist Lockhart representation was far superior to the effectives of the Lions having been seated. Excepted Hermione Granger and Nigel Wolpert, the only other Gryffindor sitting today in the Defence room had been Fay Dunbar. Alexandra didn't know where the other first-years of the House of red and gold had gone, but it hadn't been in the DADA's room. Not that they had missed much, to be fair.
Taking her bag with the intention of going back to their Common Room, Alexandra groaned under the sheer weight of the books she was forced to carry in the crowded corridor. With the columns of Hogwarts students navigating in this part of the castle, Morag was trying and failing valiantly to march to her right side.
"Where has Hermione gone?" Asked Alexandra. Nigel was approximately ten steps behind the two Ravenclaw girls, twice he avoided being trampled by a band of fourth-years Hufflepuffs travelling in herd.
"I think I saw her go to the library for her History homework." Intervened Nigel, shouting to make himself heard in the racket originating from scores of children conversations and exclamations.
"But you had Professor Tiroflan only this morning!" Unlike the Ravenclaws who had Double Potions on Wednesday morning, the Gryffindors had Double History. More commonly known by the older students by nicknames like 'great nap-time' or the 'class where bringing a pillow is mandatory' when Binns was the teacher. Junior Professor Tiroflan, the laziest person in the millenary institution by a wide and large margin, had not changed from his behaviour of 1991 and 1992, doing as little work as possible and giving assignments he rarely bothered to read, much less to grade fairly and give back to their owners. It made of course working on them a task best done at the latest time possible.
"What I can say," Nigel grumbled, "Hermione is an over-achiever..."
"Truer words have never been spoken..." Murmured the red-haired Ravenclaw in a soft voice which was ignored by everyone save Alexandra and Nigel.
The path to the upper floors where the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Common Rooms were not simple of access at this hour. The second-year students had only two periods of courses per afternoon great maximum, but the third years and every teenager above this level were not that lucky with the addition of the electives, pressing to go for their last classes of the day. Peeves the Poltergeist was his usual disrupting self, having achieved to place a complex trap mixing an armour, several golf balls and a banner of the Hufflepuff Quidditch Team in one of the greatest stairs, provoking an incredible chaos when two Gryffindor girls found themselves the recipient of this nasty prank.
"With Filch petrified, Peeves is becoming bloodily annoying!" Shouted Morag, her red hair forming her usual corona and her blue eyes launching deep glares to the Poltergeist. A few feet nearer, and she would have shared the same fate as the Lions having received the full weight of the Middle Ages' protection. "Is there no one to reign in him?"
Alexandra sent her a confused look. Before the caretaker had been attacked by the so-called Heir of Slytherin, Peeves had already manifested this enjoyment for chaos and except the ghost called the Bloody Baron, no one of authority had made a lot of efforts to 'reign him in'.
"Oh, right." The shoulders of Morag partially collapsed. "But I will relay this to the Bloody baron!"
"I think you're wasting your time but go ahead." Affirmed cheekily Alexandra.
"Oh, I know. But it will make me feel so much better!" Replied the MacDougal Heiress.
Taking another secret passage behind a statue and mountain a dusty pair of stairs, Alexandra's sense of smell was suddenly assaulted by a powerful odour. An odour and a noise of footsteps that preceded the arrival of...Hermione?
"You were quick today!" Remarked Morag, turning another corner and passing in front of two set of armours brandishing polished axes. "Was the library closed today?"
"Or Crookshanks was a naughty big cat?" Added Alexandra innocently, with a smile which didn't touch her eyes. The person walking now with them had the appearance of Hermione Granger, yes. Bushy brown hair, check. Fair light skin check. Brown eyes, check. But there were a lot of things...off. Hermione's bag, a martyr object if there ever was one, had been full of books in Lockhart's class and was now close to empty. The usual curbed posture, forced by the constant weight of hundreds of library books, was inexistent. The pace she was walking on was not her normal, frenetic walk but calmer and longer strides. The witch robes she wore had the correct Gryffindor uniform but looked to be a more expensive model than the one Morag used, and the MacDougal Heiress had the most expensive set of clothes in the Exiled group.
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