Alester slipped in closely following the Gryffindor boy, whose name he still didn't know, and took his usual seat. Upon reading the instructions he took out quill and parchment and began to copy the text thoroughly. A grin formed on his features as he read through the lesson's notes. Healing was probably the one thing he was best at. He hated potions, deplored them, yet he could concoct healing elixors with little difficulty, and healing charms were just as natural to him as breathing. He felt it had to do with core power, he was a healer type if he had to guess by his performances in various areas. This thought had always amused him, because he was the type to revel in destruction and carnage, not so much healing; yet it was a fact that had served him well in some very tight places in his lifetime. So as his quill flew over the parchment a smile formed on his lips, confident and ready for the lesson to begin.
He sat up moving his hair out of his face with a practiced, swift flick of his head. His eyes gleamed with sliver light as he waited for the remainder of his classmates to arrive and the instruction to commence.