Hogwarts: History of Magic...
... an unofficial set (from the acciobrick comm) and accompanying mini-legofic.
Hogwarts: History of Magic
The first time Professor Binns entered their class - through the blackboard, no less - it had come as a bit of a surprise. Not that he was a ghost, mind, that was hardly unexpected. Binns had taught their parents, their grandparents and some of their great-grandparents in that state, and the Slytherins had known precisely what awaited them; nothing had changed between these walls since their forebears' time except for the number of cobwebs.
But the entrance itself was bit flash, they were agreed.
Unfortunately that was the last remotely exciting thing to occur in History of Magic, and they were all well accustomed to the apparition's esoteric means of entrance and egress by now. They were far less used to the darkness and cold, however.
There was some discussion as to whether that was down to Binns' existence as a spirit, neither affected him overmuch, or if the old prof was simply that absent-minded that it never occurred to him to have someone light the sconces or heat the room. (He couldn't do it himself for obvious reasons...) A respectable Warming Charm would do for the latter, but the former? Lumos by its very nature was best suited to illuminating one's notes, but did little to make the aforementioned blackboard more legible. Not without some all too Gryffindor-typical grandstanding anyhow, and they could hardly be expected to resort to that.
Mr. Malfoy had heard about it, of course - Merlin had he heard about it; Draco had seen to that - but all the erstwhile Board of Governors' member's complaints had accomplished was that the elves had brought candles, and still more candles, and yet more candles to the room that no one proceeded to light. They simply joined the class text that Binns hadn't been able to touch since the past century where it stood in a corner gathering dust and fading, and if Draco's nose isn't mistaken, collecting more than a spot of mould. (Sprout would be in raptures.)
One particularly overcast day - winter in Scotland is simply full of them - Blaise is dozing at his desk. His mother isn't much fussed about his marks in the course, which helps. Binns' literally lifeless mutterings about the goblin rebellions of the eighteenth century hadn't played a role in her successes; they are both equally sure they won't be key to Blaise's. (And of course his stepfathers rarely live long enough to form an opinion one way or another.) Draco and Vince aren't nearly as lucky, their fathers are rather more invested in their results. If Draco has to explain just. one. more. time. how Granger has managed to outperform him... Well it's clearly worth paying a bit more attention to the doddering ghost, isn't it?
He and Vince are struggling to read the notes on the Charmed board as Blaise begins softly snuffling in his sleep. After better than five years of sharing a room, they're used to that and more, but under the circumstances it starts to play on Draco's nerves. The Tergeo he applies to wipe away the small puddle of drool is far from rough, but it isn't gentle either.
Blaise rouses with a start.
It's a good thing, too.
While Draco was distracted waking his friend, a frustrated Vince had finally lost patience with his inability to make out the board. His 'Confringo!' had lit the candles, no question - he's always had an odd sort of fascination with fire - but it isn't long before the cobwebs catch and the front of the classroom is engulfed in flames. It's unlikely to do the prof much harm (how could it?), but it still seems a remarkably poor idea, what with the lot of them sat here as they are, to say nothing of the antique inventory...
Blaise's Augamenti - a fearsome thing - soon puts paid to Vince's efforts to brighten the room, and if Vince gets positively drenched in the process? It's probably only what he deserves. It certainly isn't coincidental at any rate.
Vince's "Oi!" at the first shock of water is soon followed by a meagre attempt to justify his actions, "Well at least it's warmer here now..."
Draco's own Augamenti, drenching Vince further and decidedly colder than Blaise's, soon makes it clear what they think about that.
Just in case - Vince can be a touch slow to pick up on things - the blond hisses "Nit" in the most accusatory tone he can manage. It's a fine thing he's practiced.
But without question, his father will hear about all of this, too.
Hogwarts: History of Magic
The first time Professor Binns entered their class - through the blackboard, no less - it had come as a bit of a surprise. Not that he was a ghost, mind, that was hardly unexpected. Binns had taught their parents, their grandparents and some of their great-grandparents in that state, and the Slytherins had known precisely what awaited them; nothing had changed between these walls since their forebears' time except for the number of cobwebs.
But the entrance itself was bit flash, they were agreed.
Unfortunately that was the last remotely exciting thing to occur in History of Magic, and they were all well accustomed to the apparition's esoteric means of entrance and egress by now. They were far less used to the darkness and cold, however.
There was some discussion as to whether that was down to Binns' existence as a spirit, neither affected him overmuch, or if the old prof was simply that absent-minded that it never occurred to him to have someone light the sconces or heat the room. (He couldn't do it himself for obvious reasons...) A respectable Warming Charm would do for the latter, but the former? Lumos by its very nature was best suited to illuminating one's notes, but did little to make the aforementioned blackboard more legible. Not without some all too Gryffindor-typical grandstanding anyhow, and they could hardly be expected to resort to that.
Mr. Malfoy had heard about it, of course - Merlin had he heard about it; Draco had seen to that - but all the erstwhile Board of Governors' member's complaints had accomplished was that the elves had brought candles, and still more candles, and yet more candles to the room that no one proceeded to light. They simply joined the class text that Binns hadn't been able to touch since the past century where it stood in a corner gathering dust and fading, and if Draco's nose isn't mistaken, collecting more than a spot of mould. (Sprout would be in raptures.)
One particularly overcast day - winter in Scotland is simply full of them - Blaise is dozing at his desk. His mother isn't much fussed about his marks in the course, which helps. Binns' literally lifeless mutterings about the goblin rebellions of the eighteenth century hadn't played a role in her successes; they are both equally sure they won't be key to Blaise's. (And of course his stepfathers rarely live long enough to form an opinion one way or another.) Draco and Vince aren't nearly as lucky, their fathers are rather more invested in their results. If Draco has to explain just. one. more. time. how Granger has managed to outperform him... Well it's clearly worth paying a bit more attention to the doddering ghost, isn't it?
He and Vince are struggling to read the notes on the Charmed board as Blaise begins softly snuffling in his sleep. After better than five years of sharing a room, they're used to that and more, but under the circumstances it starts to play on Draco's nerves. The Tergeo he applies to wipe away the small puddle of drool is far from rough, but it isn't gentle either.
Blaise rouses with a start.
It's a good thing, too.
While Draco was distracted waking his friend, a frustrated Vince had finally lost patience with his inability to make out the board. His 'Confringo!' had lit the candles, no question - he's always had an odd sort of fascination with fire - but it isn't long before the cobwebs catch and the front of the classroom is engulfed in flames. It's unlikely to do the prof much harm (how could it?), but it still seems a remarkably poor idea, what with the lot of them sat here as they are, to say nothing of the antique inventory...
Blaise's Augamenti - a fearsome thing - soon puts paid to Vince's efforts to brighten the room, and if Vince gets positively drenched in the process? It's probably only what he deserves. It certainly isn't coincidental at any rate.
Vince's "Oi!" at the first shock of water is soon followed by a meagre attempt to justify his actions, "Well at least it's warmer here now..."
Draco's own Augamenti, drenching Vince further and decidedly colder than Blaise's, soon makes it clear what they think about that.
Just in case - Vince can be a touch slow to pick up on things - the blond hisses "Nit" in the most accusatory tone he can manage. It's a fine thing he's practiced.
But without question, his father will hear about all of this, too.