Waker had had to employ every last bit of will power and elegance in her body not to resort to eating lunch as if she were in a contest. She sat at the Ravenclaw table in the Great Hall and flicked through her new history book, its hard cover still taut and attempting to remain closed in a state of rest. The fork in her opposite hand held too much food, and she blinked at it, annoyed, as she finally tore her eyes away from the text. As if it were all the fork's fault. Sighing, the Ravenclaw dropped it to her plate and cut a bit of potato in half, finally taking a proper, human-paced bite, lest she set a bad example for the new first years. Speed-eating for the purposes of being the first one to History of Magic was potentially lethal-- but then so was the new history professor.
With lunch finally finished, and no choking episodes to be witnessed by the school at large, Waker tucked her textbook into her bag, smoothed her skirt and hair, and headed for the grand staircase. Luckily, Professor Lumpkin's classroom was only one floor above the dining hall.
Finally reaching the room in question, she paused abruptly just outside of the door, her lanky frame coming to an almost humorous halt. Her mind traced the morning's routine, tried to visualize the inside of her bag. She hadn't, to her knowledge, forgotten anything, but she wanted desperately to live up to the badge she'd been awarded by the old Headmaster. After a deep, silent breath, her palm reached for the door's handle, and she pushed the handsome barrier open, stepping into the classroom.
"Good Morning," she said, her keen brown eyes finding the flawlessly dressed, formidable woman who had been introduced at the Welcome Feast. The Ravenclaw was nearly transfixed. And then... "Afternoon!" Waker amended quickly, as if an electric jolt had seized her. "Good afternoon," she repeated, more smoothly, with a single nod and small smile. There was almost a breath of laugh at herself, and she was already fighting back red cheeks she might have spared for the Gryffindor who wasn't taking history with her this year. What had happened to her poise? But then there were so many new teachers lately, that it was hard to appear as collected and confident as usual. That, and a suffocating knack for perfectionism, had gotten the best of her, and classes had only been in session for three days. Good morning was just a classic.She couldn't be blamed. "I'm Waker Nolan."
Mentally hexing herself before coaxing out her own grace again, she moved toward the first row of desks with new resolve. She unpacked her things in the usual manner: quills in the top right corner, book closed to the left, parchment beside it in the middle, and ink at the top right. She had faith that this year, the classroom debates would favor Ravenclaw. One Ravenclaw. Because, really, it was Ravenclaw versus Ravenclaw, wasn't it? With the pretense of looking over her book, she habitually peeked toward the door, waiting for said other Ravenclaw to show his face. Oh, and her lovely classmates, too.
History of Magic, Seventh Years, Lesson 1