Care of Magical Creatures: Basic Class 001.

Hogwarts had hired him. Marcus couldn’t drag his mind around that fact. He hadn’t graduated and they knew this but when the ‘Wanted: Professor’ posters went up around Hogsmeade, Marcus just couldn’t resist. He didn’t quite know how he’d landed the job but he would have bet his last galleon on the fact that it was because he was a Werewolf. Then again, it could have been his O.W.L result but Marcus was leaning more towards the Werewolf bit. He had firsthand experience with dangerous creatures. Marcus didn’t quite know how he was going to go down with the students. They were expecting someone else, a woman, Marcus had been told, and a woman Marcus was not. Neither was he human, the woman had been one of those too. Still, he was positive he could handle whatever the students had to throw at him. If he couldn’t then, well, he wasn’t fit to be a teacher. He had yet to decide whether just to take points and chuck them into detention or take his wand to them.

The ex-Gryffindor doubted the little prissy Purebloods would appreciate it if the dog teaching Care of Magical Creatures hexed them. Then again, they’d probably be surprised he even knew how to cast a spell.

Shaking his head, Marcus hammered the last peg into the ground and rose to his feet. He took a step back and admired his handy work. Proudly swaying in the breeze was a plum purple tent that held a classroom inside of it. Marcus was immensely grateful for it because he wanted to start his lesson off with the younger years reminding them of the safety procedures they needed to observe and of the classifications some animals had before taking them out into the forest. He didn’t want to be in charge of twenty kids in the Forbidden Forest really but they needed to do some practical lessons - at least before winter started coming.

Marcus entered the tent and put his tools down on his desk. He brushed his hands together and picked up the glass of water he’d poured himself. After swallowing a mouthful of water, Marcus put the glass back down on the desk and picked up a piece of chalk. Then, with his back to the desk he began to write the date, title and a brief explanation of the class that awaited his younger year Care of Magical Creature students. He was looking forward to it. He daren’t show his excitement though. He needed to keep a cool head on, at least until they were all there, lest they think he was looking forward to gorging on their flesh or something equally horrifying.

It was going to be a long old day. Marcus could feel it in his bones.

Sam was cold.

It was just that stupid, dumb, autumn weather pulling him down. And whilst it wasn't raining today, for someone who'd spent their holidays baking away in the sun, Hogwarts almost seemed like hell.

It was funny how perspective could change so fast from, coming home, to, going to prison, when the weather made its changes, and Sam couldn't help but wonder if he should just give up completely on his tan and stay in England throughout summer... still, everyone here seemed to think that 20 degrees was a warm day - the weirdos.

Trudging his way down to the CoMC class, Sam was intrigued to find a purple tent sitting on the grounds, probably magical, judging by the way it was standing up with little obvious in the way of support - whomever had assembled it didn't have a single camping skill, by the looks of it.

'Or handwriting either, by the looks of it,' he thought to himself as he entered the tent, a large classroom appearing out of nowhere, with a chalkboard up the front with what was obviously intended to be some sort of instructions, or maybe an explanation.

Inclining his head to the professor he sat down and pulled out his quill and parchment, squinting at the board before sighing and sticking his hand in the air. "You there," he called, "Sir... what's your name, and can you please read what's on the board?" he asked, vaguely aware of just how nasty he was being.

Beck scowled, slouching down to where Care of Magical Creatures was to be held. It was only his second lesson of the year, but at least he was looking forward to it more than he had been with Charms. He grimaced at the thought of his worst subject and quickly cast it to the back of his mind. He reached up to shift his dark brown fringe back into place as the winds on the walk down had blown it back and then adjusted the bar piercing his right eyebrow, before dropping his hand back to his side.

The teen spotted a large purple tent and guessed that was where he should go. First day of a new school and he'd already been late to class once. Thankfully the ground were easier to navigate than the second floor and he'd found his way here relatively easily. It helped that he actually liked this lesson. Although not his favourite, the Slytherin did have a certain knack with animals and preferred them to people.

He entered and spotted another boy talking to the teacher. Taking a seat near the middle, Beck tried to remember the name of the house the colours the boy wore belonged to. After not too long he gave up and instead turned to read the board. He narrowed his eyes, scoffing at the dreadful handwriting. Perhaps the creatures could teach the professor a thing or two, he chuckled dryly to himself. Taking out a quill and piece of parchment, the Slytherin began to write. He knew this stuff. After potions, CoMC was his favourite subject and he actually bothered to listen in it.

"XX ministry classification," he muttered to himself, writing that at the top. Easy enough, he thought, let's see. There's the Bowtruckle, he scribbled that down as he pictured the tree dwelling creature, the gnome and imp. He continued to write in his scribbled handwriting, almost as bad as the writing of the professor, and put his quill down. He had done the starter easily and could now slouch back in his seat, arms crossed, and watch as other students entered. He had yet to get to know anybody.

He was beginning to pick himself up. Trent was becoming less resistant to Byron's efforts to get him to attend all his classes. Was be learning to fight for his future a little more now, or was it simply because things with Millie had become better, and that gave him greater motivation for practically everything? Of course it was the latter. Trent had strolled with Byron to the Paddock, his tie hanging loosely for the lack of his bothering with it. Appearing neat and tidy was the last thing he was ever concerned about. He was clean, but never neat. Byron had the usual bounce in his step, but Trent merely trailed after him, taking the usual lazy steps after his friend who seemed to always kept himself a ball of energy. Things were still quiet on the Elliot front, but he was learning to cope without the other Finnigan twin for now. Byron was always there, although the both of them had wondered why Sam was always not around recently. It was no matter, however, because as soon as the two boys stepped into the tent, Trent spotted Sam immediately. Byron was more interested in who the Professor was.

"Hello! Uhhh ... Professor?" He was a little unsure about how to address the young-looking man who looked like the only possible authority in the tent. Byron frowned a little in confusion. He had expected the teacher to look very different from this. Wasn't it supposed to be a she? Hogwarts was surely undergoing too many changes recently. He was still trying to accustom himself to the fact that the atmosphere of the castle had changed, especially since after the new Minister was announced. Trent, on the other hand, only cared for the fact that it had all resulted in the loss of his skateboard. He was still not over the sadness of losing her, his first love, his first skateboard. Stupid rule on muggle items, he would curse at it everyday. Trent offered the Professor a slight smile, not nearly as exclamatory as Byron's greeting. Trent was a lot more mellow. Instead, he walked up to Sam and slapped the other boy's back lightly.

"How're you, my friend?" He greeted Sam, and turned to see that Byron was not beside him. The other boy was still standing near the entrance of the tent, as if waiting to make an acquaintance with the Professor. Trent shrugged, and settled into a seat next to Sam.