In the Common Room, I sat on my favorite green sofa. It was my favorite because it faced the fire, and I could see the embers flickering brightly. It lit the room red, and for a moment I could pretend that I wasn't a Slytherin. Then the light in the fire would dim again, and I would come back to reality.
There was a cold hand on my shoulder. It had been there for minutes. I wasn't scared and I didn't bother to turn around, I knew there would be nothing there. It was Wednesday morning, 5 hours before classes started. I'd been up all night, first of all doing my homework, and then I read an entire 100-page long book entitled 'The hippogriff, the witch and the portkey' and finally I ran out of things to do, so I watched the fire. I couldn't sleep. I had no plans of sleeping. Just sitting and thinking about the week, and how terribly it had gone. Definitely typical though. The first month had always been rubbish right throughout the school. Why would it change now? Even if it was my 7th and final year.
...
Breakfast was certainly strange the next morning. At the other end of the hall, sat at the Ravenclaw table was a very familiar figure with long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. Gabrielle Delacour, I told myself. But how? She was supposed to be attending Beauxbatons this year. I hadn't seen her being sorted, nor had I spotted her all week. Mainly because I hadn't been at the ceremony. The school had apparently gotten used to having a part-Veela in the school over the past week. I, on the older hand, hadn't known. Why on earth was a pretty girl like her sat on her own? I looked at her, stabbing her fruit with her fork, and taking small bites of a strawberry. In some ways I envied her, and in others, I felt sorry for her. I wanted to know what was wrong.
Just as I was about to rise from my own seat, Penelope sat in front of me. It would have been rude to move now. "Hey. You look tired out." She was referring to the bags under my eyes. I'd tried to do something about them, but there was nothing I could have done.
"It's nothing. I didn't sleep too well last night." I changed the subject, "Hey. That Delacour girl is here. Why's that?"
Before she got the chance to answer me, McGonagall rose from her seat at the staff table and stood before the school.
"It has been drawn to our attention that a member of the Gryffindor house, Lavendar Brown, is missing. That we know of, she has not returned to school this year. Upon owling her parents, they assured us that she got on the train," there was a slight shake in her voice. "So if anyone knows anything, please, please don't hesitate to tell us," she looked over at Pavarti Patil, who was sat on her own giving the headmistress a tense look. "That's all." Her voice wavered and cracked as she went back to her seat at the table.
Just as I took my first bite of toast, that was still warm might I add, the bell went for first lesson. Transfiguration. Finally, I would find out who my new Transfiguration teacher was.
...
Unlike the last time, and the time before that, I'd turned up for Transfiguration there was no note on the door saying 'There will be no lessons today due to important work.' Perhaps she (or he, although I'd always pictured the Transfiguration teacher to be a female, despite Dumbledore having been one) was a Death Eater? Or maybe they just have important business elsewhere, I reminded myself. Then I scolded myself for moseying my thoughts into other people's businesses in the first place. It was a habit I had.
And just as the line formed itself, a strange man sauntered down the corridor in a flowing crimson velvet robe. "Bonjour et good morning class," He spoke softly, his accent thickly laced with French. He opened the door smoothly to the classroom.
Everyone took their usual seats and the class began. "I am zee teacher of vous this year," who blatantly has been transported from France, and has never been to England before. "My name is Monsieur. Blanc et I will be your Transfigure-" ation- "teacher this year." I could see we were going to get along perfectly well. Although I knew French, I could speak it fluently and with perfect grammar and spelling. If he were to teach us, I would expect the same of him. Though, this was not an English lesson, and McGonagall would only hire the best. So I let it slide and slipped into my seat gracefully.
"This year vee will be looking at zee art of advanced transfigure-" ation- "and animagi." And so the day began.
...
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