Post by Professor Amaryllis Hardy on Dec 14, 2010 15:26:32 GMT
There were ten minutes left until the bell rang for afternoon lessons, and Amaryllis Hardy was sitting at her desk in her first floor classroom, sipping at a mug of Earl Grey. The room was dark, not much light coming through the large windows to one side of the room – the sky outside was a dull grey, promising further snow to add to the flurries they’d had yesterday and the day before. The classroom was warm relative to much of the castle, though, a log fire burning lustily in the handsome stone fireplace at one side of the room. It certainly wouldn’t be warm enough to send anyone off to sleep, but students were able to feel their fingers, at least. Amaryllis remembered from her own schooldays the cold of the Potions dungeon at this time of year; she hoped that her own classroom was a somewhat more comfortable environment.
Amaryllis stood up, carefully – as was always necessary to avoid a twinge from the injury that was now almost half a decade old – and walked over to the door, propping it open with a massive stone doorstop which she used her wand to levitate into place. She could have done the whole thing from where she was sitting, but the practice at standing up with dignity before the class arrived was sadly rather useful. She hated feeling old: she was only in her forties. She returned to her desk and drank up the remainder of her Earl Grey before it went cold – that cheered her up. Tea always did.
The class was arriving now, and Amaryllis greeted in return the students that acknowledged her presence as they entered the classroom. She had a reasonably fun lesson lined up for them today – at least she hoped so. It was Christmas-themed, what more could they ask for? As the bell rang, she walked round to the front of her desk, leaning on it in a casual fashion, and flicked her wand to remove the doorstop, leaving the door free to swing closed.
“Good afternoon,” she said, timing her greeting to the class with the bang of the door, which had a natural silencing effect on the class anyway. “We’re going to be decorating the classroom using Muggle Christmas decorations today. Can anyone tell me what these are, and how they work?” She held up a long string of coloured bulbs to the class for them to identify.
Amaryllis stood up, carefully – as was always necessary to avoid a twinge from the injury that was now almost half a decade old – and walked over to the door, propping it open with a massive stone doorstop which she used her wand to levitate into place. She could have done the whole thing from where she was sitting, but the practice at standing up with dignity before the class arrived was sadly rather useful. She hated feeling old: she was only in her forties. She returned to her desk and drank up the remainder of her Earl Grey before it went cold – that cheered her up. Tea always did.
The class was arriving now, and Amaryllis greeted in return the students that acknowledged her presence as they entered the classroom. She had a reasonably fun lesson lined up for them today – at least she hoped so. It was Christmas-themed, what more could they ask for? As the bell rang, she walked round to the front of her desk, leaning on it in a casual fashion, and flicked her wand to remove the doorstop, leaving the door free to swing closed.
“Good afternoon,” she said, timing her greeting to the class with the bang of the door, which had a natural silencing effect on the class anyway. “We’re going to be decorating the classroom using Muggle Christmas decorations today. Can anyone tell me what these are, and how they work?” She held up a long string of coloured bulbs to the class for them to identify.
