Roh grinned at Annie as she took a seat beside her and simply shook her head whilst simultaneously trying to twist the mop of curls into a bun out of her way, "No I think he's just sick of howlers from parents when students whine," her voice was low enough that only the Salemite could hear, though she tried to keep her tone reassuring. Every year, or at least every other term, there was one professor that seemed to get a lot of flack from parents and students alike. When Professor Trishna had began teaching he got his fair share of howlers from parents too. It was part of students testing how far they could go without suffering dire consequences; and if your mothers weren't Zora Roh or Althea Ballentyne you could probably write home and cry about how mean said professor was and expect them to jump to your defense. Waverly knew better than to try and pull a stunt like that.

Her green eyes had lit up momentarily when Sam popped through the door but before she really had a chance to nudge Annie and tell her one of the most boss students on campus had just walked in Travers put her foot in it. Waverly literally face-palmed and let out a low groan as the blonde's harsh accent put the former pushover Professor on blast. Given his commentary about being a creeper, Roh just had a feeling in her gut today was not the day to push him. And she was right; ten points from Slytherin and a snappy lecture later she shared a look with Annie while rubbing the bridge of her nose. Apparently Kesali was going to get formidable with them, awesome. She wiggled her fingers down the row to Almasy and Sorin, giving the latter girl a little thumbs up when she clocked the Hufflepuff's Prefect badge.

Sam quirked one of her eyebrows when she actually managed to get a rise from Kesali. Either her remarks were more offensive than she realised (not a problem), or Professor Unicorn was getting serious about keeping control in the classroom (could be interesting). Then again, maybe he was just trying to impress the French guy, something Sam had no interest in. If the other schools were going to come over and live in the Hogwarts castle, they could damn well take the place and its inhabitants as they came. She knew better than to say this out loud, though, especially now that Kesali had established that he Meant Business.

So instead she let out a short, soft breath of laughter, and a 'You got it, Prof. Think I'll stick around, cheers.' Sam couldn't help but be at least a little impressed that Kesali wasn't letting himself be pushed around; tempting as the idea of skiving off class was, she didn't want to miss out of what was going to happen. She even went so far as to actually hang her bag up, by way of shrugging it off her shoulder, and flicking her wand to Banish it to one of the empty hooks on the wall.

Twirling her wand idly in her fingers, Sam slumped lazily onto one of the benches. She gave the Gryffindor prefect who had just spoken a sidelong glance and a smirk. 'Ah, you know me, Almasy. I jus' like ta mess up my outfit on my own terms. Tell ya what, I'll Colour-Change a bulls-eye onto my the back of my robes, just for you, yeah?' Sam was making herself a target for whatever clothes-destroying activity Kesali had planned for them, she realised, by talking back and refusing those god-awful smocks. Might as well acknowledge it. Wasn't as if she was going to let anyone get the better of her. Professor What's-his-name had said that if they knew their stuff they wouldn't have a problem. So, she just wouldn't have a problem. How bad could today's charm be?

Livi had breezed through the door just before Travers, bright smile on her face when she spotted Professor  d’Aubigne. He was, as far as dueling was concerned, one of her idols. She'd been positively tickled pink when she'd first learned he was coming to Hogwarts. Of course Sam blew her change of making a brilliant first impression out of the water with her big mouth, and a tiny scowl etched itself into her delicate features as she finished hanging up her blazer and bag. She was tempted to trip the other girl as they passed by one another but decided not to before taking her spot along the bench. Professor Kesali's little rant didn't phase her; she'd never dream of being such a sass right to his face. She'd been working her cute little bum off all year to rectify this idea that Slytherin was the house with the worst reputation; but there were always going to be idiots like that chavette making it nearly impossible. She might just take advantage of that target the obnoxious seventh year was going on about if she didn't shut up.

"The Pensieve charm has been invaluable in my writing of my books. It's très bon that you would think to teach them something that would help in future endeavors. Every wizard worth his salt I believe is the term, has more than a few memories hidden away. If they wish to be ill prepared when they enter the world that is their own mistake. I see nothing inapproprié about what you asked," Sacha-Anatole leaned in close and whispered to his colleague the next thought, "you must not worry so much what children think mon collègue. They do not know better yet, their minds are still growing. If the parents accost you simply tell them they are welcome to remove their child from your class. You are an Instructor of Charms mon ami, what are they to you?"

The Beauxbatons Instructor twirled his wand between his fingers and gave Professor Kesali a reassuring look. He continued to watch as the students filed in and greeted every student in turn who greeted him. Some seemed less enthused about changing than their peers. Others seemed to want to take the Professors up on their challenge. Much like Professor Kesali, Sacha-Anatole did not realize the abrasive accent was being directed his way until after the words had sunk in. The older gentleman's brow furrowed slightly and his eyes seemed to grow more intense as he turned to the girl. He was about to open his mouth when his eye-patched comrade did what he found to be a most adequate job chastising the girl. He turned back to Kesali and gave him an appreciative nod.

"If I may Professor Kesali I would like to address the class for a moment," Sacha-Anatole said while walking towards the center of the room, his voice raising in volume but not in tone. "Charms is the school of magic you will all use most in your life. No matter what profession you choose when you graduate, you will be using charms  in everything that you do. Professor Kesali is here to instruct you on how to perform charms at an increasingly more difficult level. The simple stuff is over. I will not tell you what you should do, as it is not my place. But in my opinion anyone who can not listen to instruction at this level or is unwilling to do so, should rethink whether or not this is the class for them. I'm sure you've all learned the basic by now, you will be able to clean, to cast charms that will get you through the day, that sort of stuff. This level is not to learn those sort of things, this level is to instruct you in the more complicated and nuanced charms that will aid you in one of a kind circumstances, or specialized professions. That is all."

Instructor d’Aubigne cast his gaze around the room. When he was satisfied what he said had been digested he walked back to Kesali's side. The speech wasn't quite as ostentatious as he would of preferred to go, but he didn't want to step of Gale's toes. It was Gale's class first and foremost, but he wasn't going to work with a class that refused to recognize the situation that they found themselves in.     

Chloe listened intently to the professor's explanation, nodding. She did love charms. Maybe she wanted to pursue a carreer in a charms related field. It was then that she got a surge of confidence, and a whiff of something putrid, that she stood up, going to he hooks to hag up the robes. She didn't need them. And she would rather see the reprocussions of screwing up rather than hiding the fact. If she messed up, she'd try again. She wouldn't be embarrassed. Chloe also felt quite pressured by her peers. Growing up in the Harris house meant that you had to be better than everyone else. That you couldnt stick out unless you stuck out for being better than everyone else. She didn't want to stand out to seem like she didn't know what she was doing.

Chloe sat back down withouy the gross robes next to Mason feeling confident. Already, she was feeling better. Those robes had an almost unbearable scent that she was happy to rid herself from. Chloe also felt great because she knew her stuff. She loved charms. She studied it closely and was ready to knock whatever the lesson was out of the park. She twirled her wand around in her hand, grasping the handle confidently. Bring it on, Kesali. she thought.

Mason sheepishly curled into a ball, he was so utterly embarrassed no one else was putting on the smelly robes, and the fact that Chloe was taking hers off as well wasn't helping his confidence. The Seventh Year Slytherin Girl insulting them made him feel like an complete dunce. He smiled a little when she got a deduction of points from her house. Mason had a rather good handle on Charms, but he wasn't feeling all that fantastic as the French Professor addressed the class.

He just wanted to take the stupid robes off, but if he did, it would be as if he was second guessing himself, and he really didn't want to run the risk of ruining the only good clothes he had other than the few T-shirts he wore on week-ends in his dorm. He pulled his wand out of his pocket and itched behind his head with it.

"This is gonna suck" Mason groaned quietly, as he leaned back and looked at the ceiling.

Today's charm carried the apparent risk of destroying clothing completely.

How had this not happened before?

Ligeia had a rather gleeful smile on her face, almost approaching un-ladylike quality. She personally had no qualms should her uniform be rendered to shreds. She had stressed and re-sewn some of her more casual outfits.

Nearly one week away from the full moon, the monogram opposite the prefects badge on her chest was waning from blood red though  the letters bristled in anticipation.

On Raine’s other side, Theo’s eyes narrowed at Sam (really, Travers? Really?), though he didn’t do much more than roll his eyes and scoff when she seemed agreeable enough to their professor’s threat. In all honesty, the prefect was not so concerned about salvaging his House’s reputation with teachers who were, for the most part, a lost cause (only a fool could miss how Kesali’s tone had taken on a particular edge), as he was about maintaining their lead for the House Cup. If Theo had to choose, his own reputation would always take precedence over the one of his House, and it certainly went without saying how little he thought of almost everyone else outside of it. He would be quite cross if they lost it solely because of one idiot, in a single class.

Admittedly, the smocks were revolting. But this was a NEWT’s class, and for Charms no less; as far as the Slytherin was concerned, if you couldn’t cast a decent Scourgify or Reparo by now then you didn’t deserve to be here.

Of course, Theo rather doubted that it would be an issue… for himself, at least. On top of an innate resistance to plebeian wrinkling, every article in his wardrobe was made with a specialized repulsion charm favored by entrepreneurial designers, to ward off most forms of damage to the fabric. If today proved to be too much for the ones he wore, then he could simply replace them. After all, money was no object to a Whitman.

Especially this one.

   

Nicholas smiled as he hung up his bag on a hook.  His clothes could be fixed or if need be replaced, he wasn't particularly attached to his uniform, and it wasn't like he didn't have extras.  He stuck his wand into the pocket in his robes and walked over to the benches under the windows, trying his best to not visibly enjoy Travers' loss of house points.  It was strange to see the professor so riled up though.  Probably didn't bode all that well for the rest of the lesson.  Thankfully it wasn't going to be a written lesson, Nicholas hated those with a passion.

But any lesson that could ruin clothing sounded like fun.  He stopped next to Figaro and Sasha, mostly tuning out the foreign professor.  So far in his five and a half years at Hogwarts, he was pretty sure he'd heard from every professor at least once that their's was the most important...useful...etc..  "Dueling?  Really?  In charms?"

Josh only hung up his bag; his robes could be replaced, and considering they lived in dorms? there was very little room to be self-conscious even if all his clothes were utterly destroyed. Besides, he was good at Charms, so nay clothes disappearing probably wouldn't be his. |He briefly wondered who in the class might end up with less-concealing robes. He guessed at least one or two people would.

The beauty of Hogwarts being a castle was that it was enormous, which made avoiding people, especially those who weren't in her house, pleasantly simple- theoretically. Having some of the same classes as Phillip, including Charms, wouldn't have been a problem, but Alex kept catching herself looking at him. And that lead to alcohol addled memories of the variety that made her blush guiltily and sit up straighter. Charms should have been fine, as generally it was an interesting lesson, but Alex couldn't help but feel uncomfortable around Professor Kesali, who was far too emotionally biased for a teacher, which made focusing on him difficult with the exception of the occasions where she was staring with abject horror.

And that was exactly what Alex meant, he behaved like a tipsy teenage girl in a strop. At least the Beauxbatons professor was respectable, even if he seemed to have a penchant for rousing speeches which Alex could happily do without. She sighed, a hand lifting to neaten her hair before she realising that it was in a bun and aborting the motion, her fingers instead drumming on the table.

"What are we supposed to be learning?" Alex asked Gracie quietly, still eyeing the two teachers with suspicion, "A charm that removes clothing?" Her tone conveyed both intrigue and disapproval, and she was not looking at Phillip. A corner of her mouth curving upwards, Alex stared resolutely at the front of the class, drawling, "Seems an appropriate choice for a class of teenagers."

Phillip had been dead confused since the winter break. It wasn't like him to think about it the second day, much less a week after it, or bloody hell knew how long it' had been, but it seemed like an eternity. And he was definitely trying to avoid 'er, even if it was barmy—damned impossible feat given they shared so many bloody classes. But now, sitting a few meters away from 'er, he could feel 'er eyes on him, and he was ladged knowing he more than three times had done the same. "Bloody melandering women" he muttered under his breath as he caught 'er deaking at him for the second time.

Well he'll be bloody arsed if he wasn't going to put an end to this.  He got up on his feet and got his jacket off, putting it over his arm, then he rolled up his sleeves and loosened his tie. He wasn't about to get in any of those minging frocks, and truth be told he couldn't be mithered about the state of his uniform at the moment. No, he was about to go be Gryffindor and look like a scowler and show 'er he'd cob this entire damn skrikin business down the drain. He was fine. FINE! "Doodey, bloody, doodey! Bob on, you! Oh, feck. Bobbins! Phillip, mate what the bloody hell are ye doing" his outraged subconscious skriked at him.

He walked nonchalantly to where she was—no, actually, he hoped he was walking nonchalantly because he would've actually liked to just run away quickly and, if possible, just never see 'er again... or those glimpses of achingly sweet— "Achingly sweet, mate? Are ye shaped like a wooden duck?!"— memories his overactive hormonal mind kept bringing about at all times of day, especially when most NOT needed.

When he finally got in front of 'er, he gave 'er what he hoped was a dead serious look and then quickly turned to Slant. "Carstairs, Slant" he said nodding his head a little, before he blatantly pushed Slant a bit to the side and insinuated himself between the two. This was fine. It was fine. He didn't look at 'er. He wasn't going to, or his mard arse brain would go into overdrive, trying to decide between strangling 'er or suck face with 'er. Now, what was this bloody lesson about?

All around the Ravenclaw, classmates were mumbling, grumbling and periodically changing their mind about whether or not to wear the provided robes.  By now, one had to be use to the normal, pre-class dramatics - they were as persistent as they were distracting.  As much as Sasha hoped each morning that, just perhaps, that day would bring a simple, uncomplicated, task-oriented approach to the lesson by all students, it hadn't happened, yet.  He could still hope, though. 

Sasha glanced over as Figaro stood next to him, offering his usual, awkward grin in greeting.  "I hope not," Sasha answered the Hufflepuff.  "I don't think so.  Storm has never made a fuss about attire."  Not that the man ... his father ... was likely to worry what became of their clothes. 

"I suspect-" The Ravenclaw's voice trailed off as Professor Kesali stepped up and swiftly deducted ten points from Slytherin.  Sasha raised an eyebrow and glanced, again, at Fig before shrugging slightly.  Monsiour d'Aubigne took his turn lecturing them and Sasha cast another curious glance towards the Hufflepuff. 

"Interesting," Sasha concluded, half to Fig and half to himself, when both professors had said their bit.  "I don't know what they have planned.  At first, I thought some sort of painting charm.  Or..."  Something else that could be potentially messy.  "But they both seem to be trying to prove something.  I suspect it'll be something ... different.  And, intense."  The speeches.  The clothing.  The change of tone.  They were all pointing to that. 

"Obliteration charms?  Vanishing charms?  Bombardment charms?"  Sasha shrugged his shoulders.  "Hope you ate breakfast."

Charms. This class he was going to miss the most, but he still had a one full semester of five days a week left to enjoy it, and that was what he was going to do. The board said things could get ruined, so he hung his bag up, and ignored the ugly dirty robes. Who knew what abuse they'd been through in the past. Besides, he wasn't worried about ruined clothes. Assuming they even got ruined, he'd just make a dash up to the Gryffindor Tower, change, then dash back down to go eat. Simple.

"'Hello, Professors." Offering them a smile he made his way to an empty seat and waited. The smile diminished but was still evident as he wondered what new thing they would all learn today. Something he'd read about but hadn't been able to practice yet? Or maybe better, and something he /hadn't/ read about yet.

Vibrant green eyes half-lidded with boredom, Gracie scratched lightly at the tip of her nose and shrugged, the gesture noncommittal. Who knew, with this professor? His temper seemed to fluctuate with the slightest change of the weather. Merlin, Hufflepuff always produced weird ones, if not boring. “It’d be nice to learn a decent hair charm-” she hummed, thinking of the different styles Hogsmeade’s sole hair salon boasted. Now those had been marvelous.

But before she could, Kinsey’s fat arse wiggled into the little space between them, and the Slytherin found herself unceremoniously relocated down a seat. “Hey!” she snapped, just barely keeping herself upright with a well-timed grab at the table’s edge. Talk about rude. “I was sitting there, Kinsey,” and in case he didn’t get the memo, Gracie made her displeasure known with a swift, subtle, utterly ruthless grab at his side, hard enough so that fingers dug and twisted at flesh through layers of clothing—as she plastered a pleasant smile onto her face for the two men at the front, just in case.

Because, really—crazy Gryffindor was acting even crazier than usual. Looking for commiseration, Gracie leaned back and looked at Alex –and felt her brows climb in surprise.

Make that two weirdos.