Welcome to the Dungeons, Children.

Oh, potions. One of the staples of a magical education and therefore another of those classes Liesl tried to be good at. She didn't take to it as well as charms or transfiguration, but it wasn't so hard.

The problem with potions was really time management and ingredients, she'd found. Add tincture of wormwood a moment too late or stir in an ingredient that was fine last week without checking if it was still fresh today and it would blow up in your face. And had blown up in Liesl's face before.

The teacher was not in the classroom yet, and Franki Malfoy was already chatting to Faith Blackburn, one of the other prefects. Perfect. With nothing else to do, Liesl perched on a desk nearby to listen in.

"Hey."

"Nice to meet you, Faith. I'm Franki." Franki smiled widely, always happy to introduce herself. The small act of giving herself a 'common' nickname was a small rebellion against her family, one enough to satisfy her current frustrations with them. Every time she said the nickname, she felt a tiny bit smug, and a bit relieved. Her real name was almost bigger than she was.

Leisl Dolohov joined them, sitting on a near table and addressing them both. It was then than Franki really realized she was talking to a prefect and the Head Girl. Huh. "Hi, Leisl." She glanced at the clock. "Say, Leisl. Is there any rule saying that if the Professor is exceedingly late, we don't have to stay?"

He elbowed his sister in the ribs and nodded toward the front of the room. There was no professor, not even a mark on the blackboard.

This is a trick.

Not many people knew that Shylock and Destrey weren't really twins. Being in the same year and coming from the same parents, as they did. They even had different birthdays, although Destrey refused to celebrate hers.

Maybe that was why they never finished each-other's sentences.

Nevertheless, they both found a seat at a workbench away from the ones already filled up.

Liesl shrugged. How could she explain that she'd managed to become Head Girl without reading any rules about anything?

"I've never heard of that one," she said dutifully. "But I don't think the teachers would want it to be very well known."

"On the other hand, isn't that what prefects and Head Girls are for? To tell you it's okay to leave?" she added with a smile. "I say we wait fifteen minutes. That's a fair amount of time for anyone."

Staring in through the doorway of the Potions classroom, Daedalus D’Eath’s lip curled. Inside was a mess of students that clearly did not know how to properly respect a classroom. He did not know who most of them were as he had never really made an effort to speak with any of them, and so it was because of this that when he finally stepped over the threshold and began to consider whether or not to close the open door or not, he realised that he had nowhere and no one to sit with. Oh, unless he wanted to sit next to Francesca of course – his darling betrothed – but that was a definite no go.

There was a spattering of students here or there but none of whom he wanted to really park himself next to and unconsciously he became rather protective over his satchel, curling his first around the strap as he stared amongst them. They were an ugly lot, really, and none seemed to be particularly blessed with intelligence – even the lone Ravenclaw who looked as if she had nothing but cotton between her ears. Tragic, really.

In the end, Daedalus put his bag carefully down on a desk in the middle of the room, over the right side as far away from the girls as possible. He sighed heavily, wishing that his cousin would hurry up and arrive to put them out of their misery, and began to take out the equipment necessary – or, rather, the equipment he hoped would be necessary – for the day’s lesson. He just wanted to get through it. He had an appointment with the nurse in the Hospital Wing come six o’clock and that was all he was really living for currently. Not that he enjoyed the nurses, mind you, just the momentary relief that came from having your body drained of the magic that was poisoning you. Sort of wonderful really.

Destrey could tell that Shylock was still trying to figure out how she was going to get her own Spice stash. She could see it ticking over in his...

Ow!

There was an elbow in her ribs and Destrey was catapulted out of her daydream by her brother's nod toward the blackboard.

Ohhhhh. They were trying to trick us.

Destrey rolled her eyes and followed Shylock to the seats he'd chosen. Right away from the ones anyone else had chosen. How convenient for interrogating his sister. Of course, Destrey could have just paired up with someone else, but the rest of the class was incompetent. When it came to potions, an Ashcroft would only trust themselves to do the job right.

Ugh, Destrey wanted to scrub her brain out. That was such a gross thought.

After placing at least half a dozen errant little Gryffindor first years into detention and making a lost second year cry, Alistair decided it was probably best to go to class. Oh, but he was having so much fun! Having sent the snivelling little snot off to Herbology he figured out that his sole cause for being at Hogwarts was to make his students suffer. Perhaps that was why he’d become a teacher – not because he was doing his cousins and siblings a favour by being there to spoil them with House Points and a severe lack of detentions. No! His calling was making his first and second years cry, make his third years explode cauldrons out of sheer anxiety, preventing his fourth years from getting touchy-feely with each other in the broom cupboards and just downright torturing the elder years with the things they made. Oh! How he loved it.

As he made his way down into the dungeons, Alistair came across a lolloping pair of sixth years, both of whom attested to be on their way to Herbology. Upon pointing out the flaws in their claim – that the Herbology greenhouses were outside, they were not Slytherins, Second years had Herbology this period and also, there was no shortcut from the dungeons to the Herbology Greenhouses – he gave them a month’s worth of detention, removed several dozen house points from Hufflepuff and Gryffindor and then sent them on their way, knowing full well that this time, they’d make it to Herbology without dawdling. He was most definitely warming to this job. Oh, yes.

Upon reaching his classroom, Alistair hung back for a few moments, leaning against the wall to listen to the nattering his students were making. In the end, he decided he couldn’t put it off any longer and entered the classroom. He took the door handle in his palm and threw the door behind him, striding forward and smiling at the sound of the bang that resounded through the classroom, abruptly puncturing the noise the students were making and hopefully placing them into the silence he wanted from them.

Once he’d reached his desk, Alistair took his wand from the pocket of his robes and flicked it, making several bubbling cauldrons appear on the tabletop which elongated itself with the same swish. He then moved to stand just to the side of the desk, though slightly in front of it, and cast his eyes across the classroom.

“Take your seats,” he told them simply, raising an eyebrow as if daring them to challenge him. “As you may have noticed, I am not Professor Lyons. I do not have the legs for the silly little skirts she used to wear, thank Merlin. It is for that reason that none of you will get away with any of the foolish, impulsive, hormone-driven actions that you did last year. You are here to learn. Get used to it. It might be a bit much for some of your tiny brains to comprehend but I will have results from all of you. I have no qualms about keeping you back a year or two. Let me make that perfectly clear to you before we start. So, who wants to leave?" Alistair looked around expectantly.

"Now, we will start with a little experiment shall we? Ashcroft,” Alistair gestured to Shylock. “Front and centre, now.” He then combed his eyes across the classroom before quietly inquiring, “So which one is the Hufflepuff Prefect amongst you? Do come forward."

Francesca's good mood dissipated as Alistair entered, almost immediately after Liesl had given her the hope that they might get out of the class. Franki waved to Leisl, as all speaking would have to cease for the lesson, and turned forward to listen to the man who's family had stolen her home.

He spoke of Professor Lyons and Franki's eyebrows scrunched together. Lyons had not let the class get unruly if she remembered right. Franki leaned over to Faith and hissed, "When did we get away with foolish, impulsive, hormone-driven actions?" He had just called forward two students, however, so Franki looked forward. She felt herself smirk. "I hope he makes them dance," she muttered.

Jack poked his head through the dungeon door, his eyes darting around the room. His eyes rested on the teacher, and his smile dropped. Who the hell was this guy? He wasn't Amelia. Or so it seemed. He bet it was probably a disguise or something. But then again, he didn't have that twinkle of maturity and coldness in her eyes. His eyes looked more... Dangerous. Jack would be sure to keep an eye on him.

Jack would slowly walk into the class, saluting to the Professor with one hand grabbing the handle of his knapsack. His green eyes looked at Professor D'eath solemnly.

"Sorry, Doc. I was with Prof. Frankenberg. He held me back a bit to help clean the plants and everything. Didn't really appreciate when I tried helping to grow his Mandrakes, and it backfired pretty bad."

He then would start walking to a seat somewhere in the back of the class, but he walked slow, his eyes darting to the rest of the kids, seeing if he knew anyone at all. No such luck.

Shylock glanced at Franki as he made his way between the desks. Somehow, he didn't think this professor had dancing in mind. The way he'd said 'front and centre' like that made whatever was in store sound a lot less pleasant.

"Sir," he turned to face the class, acutely aware of the potions behind him.

At the back of the room, Destrey was beaming in anticipation. Ah well, it wasn't as though he'd never been used as a guinea pig before.