Each student will receive two points for joining the thread. You will not be penalized for not joining, but you are encouraged to participate.

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outfit

The door to the Potions classroom was locked, no beam of light filtering through the tiny crack near the stone floor. A small, neatly-written sign was plastered to do the door.

Attention Students:

Please relocate to the library for our lesson.
You will find several rows of empty chairs near the west windows.
Please arrive within five minutes of the start of the class period.

Professor Vaillancourt

As the First Years undoubtedly made their race up four flights of stairs from the dungeon labyrinth, Juliette stood serenely at the mouth of two towering shelves of pristine Potions texts. The stacks, which formed a claustrophobic aisle of sorts, provided a nice little window through which Juliette could watch her new students filter in and take their seats.

"So, Landis," she murmured, turning on her heel to face the sharp facade of the lean and lanky librarian. His cheekbones looked more lethal than the book with claws in the Creatures section. "How many of these little talks have you given?" She inclined a light brow, wondering what sort of 'public' speaker such a seemingly reserved type might be. "And thank you for humoring me, by the way. I grew up navigating the Beauxbatons collection..."

Folding her arms over her chest and smiling up at him, as if the favor had been a friendly one and not a professional obligation, she waited for some sort of response. Her eyes bore into his, attempting to absorb the thoughts sitting behind them. Having not studied Legilimens, however, it was somewhat futile. Then again, not entirely. Juliette had always been skilled at reading people.

"You keep this place very," She paused, waving an arm around at nothing and everything. "Organized." It was her offhanded way of approval without actually saying she approved. She decided, after their first meeting, she didn't quite want to give him that level of satisfaction.
 

[Note: Students may take their seats and chat quietly while the adults talk off to the corner. Thanks muchly.]

Charles, having been the first to arrive at the Potions classroom, was the first to arrive at the Library, thouroughly out of breath, and with his bag looking like it had been about to fall off. Sitting down, Charles got out parchment, a quill and then saw that both the ink bottles he carried had smashed. "Professor, both the ink bottles I was carrying have smashed. Please can I go to my dorm to fetch one?" Charles asked politely, despite the fact he was mentally swearing.

Dahlia had let out a soft sigh when she read the note posted on the potions dungeon's door. She was not looking forward to climbing four sets of stairs to get to the library and decided to move at her normal pace. No sense in showing up all ragged and disheveled. Not to mention she didn't think she could move any faster. She supposed she should go talk to the Healer about it sometime soon but ever since her major flying accident she found herself sore and not moving at top speeds. The crash itself had been devastating, she had broken her nose, her ankle, her arm and several ribs, not to mention copious amounts of bruises and a concussion. She had been healed up just fine by Madame Nadge and she supposed her current situation was more of an emotional response than a physical one.

The time allowed her to contemplate the newest addition to the Hogwarts staff. She knew that this was a weird year for staff appointments. From what she had read in the revised copy of Hogwarts: A History there had never been such a large amount of changes in staff as there had this year. Their last Potions Professor had only lasted two months before she got the boot. No one knew what happened to Professor Darling but Dahlia wouldn't be surprised if she had been sacked for being unprofessional. In Dahlia's opinion Hogwarts needed more teachers like Storm and Austerlitz. They were strict and to the point and had a way of scaring students into remembering everything they said. They didn't need a Professor that was constantly trying to be their friend.

As she reached the Library she was happy to see that she wasn't late. She settled into a seat near the front and pulled out her own supplies. She glanced over to Charles and pulled out an extra ink well of her own before handing it over to him, "here. Wouldn't want you to miss the first class back."

After a balanced breakfast of sorts, well it had been balanced on the plate, but what was consumed was not a heck of a lot. Euphemia had been pushing the food around on her plate; she was not a particularly large eater at the best of the time let alone at this time in the morning. Euphemia usually found she ate a bit more on the weekend when breakfast was consumed a little later, but 7am was just far too early. She had left the breakfast table early too boot, just like she did every morning. Leaving the breakfast meal early meant she had a little bit more time to collect herself before class, and even collect her books for class.

Euphemia had been none to pleased by the relocation of class; it was a hiccup in her morning routine. This meant she had to walk up many more flights of stairs; she was not pleased at all. This entire change would no doubt create a grumpy Euphemia for the majority of the day. Granted she always appeared cold and grumpy on a daily basis.

After hiking the many stairs to the library she wandered in to find a seat near the middle of the chairs. She didn’t want to be at the front for this, what sort of presentation could be useful, or more useful then learning potions. Euphemia was incredibly disappointed by this. She also made a point of not sitting near those who had already arrived, as neither of them interested Euphemia.

Euphemia just sat alone opened up the book she was reading, it was new a present from Dazmond when she stayed with her. Funny how a holiday without her parents was more fun than one with, and it was making her think she would try to spend more of her summer with her mentor. She just wished the time had not been so short.

Landis was not pleased. As the librarian, it was his duty to demonstrate things like this to the students, but that didn't mean he had to like it. He had, as a matter of fact, been dreading this ever since the new Potions Mistress had approached him with her request. As a man who considered himself able to defend against heavy interrogation and various curses, realistically a bunch of rowdy first-years should not offer much trepidation. But the thought of his library full of sticky, noisy, attention-demanding children... he'd honestly rather face torture. Or poison. Interrogation by Aurors, complete with Veritaserum - anything, really, besides these grubby little brats. He did not yet have a headache, but it was really only a matter of time.

The new professor was not helping. She lounged against a shelf, only mildly more bearable because she actually seemed to appreciate the Potions texts behind her. This was only their second meeting and already Landis was not impressed. She seemed intelligent enough, and mercifully did not have the same disposition as the last professor (whom Landis liked to think someone had finally taken aside and disposed of, although he did not know for certain what'd happened to her; someone that obnoxiously cheerful did not deserve to live). And yes, she was quite pretty, Landis supposed, if you liked them coy and mind-blowing. But he was not appreciative of her considerable charms, considering that she was the one who'd asked him to do this. He'd already been disinclined to like her - the first incompetent twat teaching it had made his fingers itch for a wand, her overly-cheerful attitude grating on his very last nerves. And now he'd had it taken away from him again, by this woman with her cat-like little smirk and deceiving doe eyes, who was clearly amused by his displeasure. Landis respected Analiza, but sometimes he despaired of her hiring ability.

"So, Landis. How many of these little talks have you given?"

"None, Ms. Vaillancourt," he replied evenly, hands folded behind him and eyes at half-mast, the perfect picture of a man calmly awaiting his dawn execution. "But I am reasonably certain of my abilities to do so."

"And thank you for humoring me, by the way. I grew up navigating the Beauxbatons collection..."

Her tone didn't quite contain the right note for such a comment. Most people would have sounded rueful, or grateful; Vaillancourt tossed it off casually, in a way that irritated his already diminished reserves of patience. There was something about this woman that screamed of challenge, the impudent raise of an eyebrow or the little smirk about her lips only magnifying the effect.

Accordingly, his liquid half-shrug and reply did not quite fit the mold of someone to whom such a request was nothing. "It's no matter." Landis wouldn't mind knowing more about the Beauxbatons collection, but damned if he was going to ask her. At least, not at this point.

"You keep this place very . . . organized."

"Thank you." Whether she meant it as a compliment or not, Landis certainly took it as one. Organizing things was what he did. Pristine and neat and everything in its place ... yes, it was all so much more efficient since he'd been hired. And if there was one thing Landis loved, it was efficiency. "I try."

He cast his eyes past her, and to the few students already in their seats. One boy looked down into his bag and made a horrible face; he started to tell her that one of her charges needed attention, before the girl next to the student offered some extra ink, rendering Landis' diversionary tactic moot. And it had been a diversionary tactic, born out of the mild desire not to be rendered undignified by the happy counterpoint of his sister, who had just entered the library and was heading straight for him. Ah, well. It wasn't like Hannah expected him to be affectionate. He'd taught her when she was younger not to cling to him or expect embraces in public, and she knew him well enough to be pleased with a hand to the shoulder or the hair, or even just a smile. For a child, she was very perceptive - she obviously took after him, rather than after Erin in that regard. In many regards, Landis felt, thank Merlin.

A few students trickled in behind her - Landis recognized the Grissom-Dolohoc child who was always trailing after Dazmond. Altogether, they were slow in coming, but they still had several more minutes before the start of class.

"Hannah," he acknowledged, when she bounced up to him. She looked at Professor Vaillancourt for a long, considering moment, with the frank curiosity of a child who felt no need to hide their stare. Landis raised an eyebrow pointedly, and she turned her staring into a polite nod before turning back to him with a small smile which she was clearly biting back from becoming a beam. That was another thing about children, which Landis did not mind as much on Hannah but which puzzled him in general - their enthusiasm about greeting someone they liked every time they saw them. He'd seen her in the hallway just yesterday, but if she hadn't been able to come up to him now he knew she'd be squirming in her seat, hoping to catch his eye and wave as if there was the slightest chance he hadn't seen her. He smiled a little at her, his tone colored for the first time with something other than unreadable neutrality, boredom, or mild irritation. He was very aware of the professor next to him, but there was no need to be cold to the girl. "You're going to behave, aren't you?"

“Please, call me Juliette,” she insisted. “We’re colleagues now, no?” She continued to grin, a hint of maliciousness on her lips. The man looked positively thrilled to be doing her a ‘favor’ (in other words, his job). “Don’t get too excited now. We don’t want to have to find a new librarian to suit the new Potions professor... They’ll think I’ve ran you out on purpose. I don’t need that stain on my reputation so early into the job, Landis.”

He tried?

Indeed.

If she had nothing nice to say about him, besides the fact that his parents had blessed him with a terrifyingly aristocratic profile, she could at least say that he kept an impeccable collection. Compulsively so, it seemed. What other compulsive habits did this Mr. Morgan-- Landis-- have?

Juliette tore her eyes from the flaxen man, who might as well have had a coal-colored mane to match the supposed soul of his. She found the student who had spoken up, apparently pinning her for his new professor without having actually met her. Blinking, Juliette found her lips turning down into a slight frown. How did one smash one’s ink simply walking to class? And what sort of request was that? Race all the way back to his dormitory for ink? If he was that prone to smashing it, he shouldn’t have carried in glass vials.

“Young man, in this class, we use our motor skills,” she explained in a slow but carrying tone. Her gaze drifted to the young woman beside him, who offered ink. Juliette rounded her shoulders, her insides more at ease. At least some of them appeared to be more sensible.

“Thank you, Miss--?” She waited for the girl to provide a surname. “Five points to whichever house you’re in for coming prepared on behalf of your classmate.”

When she turned back to the librarian, Juliette found her gaze readjusting not on his own eyes, but down toward his trousers, beside which a cherubic figure bopped in apparent anticipation of attention. She was more than a little surprised at the shift in Landis’ tone; it were as if someone had whispered lumos and shone light at some hidden part of him. The Keeper of the Books was, indeed, human.

“I didn’t know you were so familiar with my students. Excellent. You can help me learn their names...”

She didn’t buy for a minute that he was so subtly affectionate with the majority of them, however. They hadn’t begun the presentation, but she could tell he was none too pleased with her hijacking his precious palace of tomes, nor with her weapon of choice (prepubescent spillers of ink).

“Hannah, is it?” She asked, without crouching even a fraction. “Why don’t you have a seat with your classmates? We’re going to begin very soon.” Her eyes found Landis again, silently encouraging to tell him what was so special about this one. But something in them suddenly looked very like something in the girls’ own gaze, however night and day-- living dead and living doll-- they happened to be. They were related.

“Come,” she said, putting a hand on the girl’s shoulder and ushering her back toward the other children. She merely glanced over her shoulder to stare at the man, one fleeting glance.

“Are you an avid reader or are you and Mr. Morgan old society friends?” She asked in a playful whisper as she lead the girl away. He was a bit too young to be her father.

When they reached the rows of chairs, Juliette peered down at the boy who had ruined his own back. She curled a finger inward, beckoning him to action. “Give me your bag,” she ordered, drawing her wand. With luck, he wouldn’t need to order a new Potions text.

Charlestooj the ink from Dahlia with a small smile. "Thanks Dahlia. I wasn't looking forward to having to run back to Gryffindor Tower, probably making my bag split or something on the way." Charles said. He ignored the comment from the professor. Then the professor asked him to hand over his bag. He took something out and slipped it into his robes first, but then handed it over. He didn't think anything had been hit by the ink except a broken quill, but better safe than sorry.

For perhaps the first time since she'd started school at Hogwarts, Noriko was truly excited for a lesson.

The Library!  They were getting to go to the Library!  She practically skipped all the way from the Potions classroom.  Not even the fact that they had yet another new teacher could phase her.  The new Potions professor could be a Muggle, and she'd still happily sit in class if it meant venturing into Professor Mister Librarian Morgan's domain.  She was ecstatic about possibly getting to see her Head of House, who still terrified her but whom she desperately wanted to impress.  She could answer questions!  Win points for Slytherin! 

And Potions was easy.  It wasn't quite as safe as History of Magic, which just involved books, but a Potions class taking place in the Library was the next best thing.  If they were on Professor Librarian Morgan's grounds, then there was no way that they'd be mixing up dangerous brews or firing hexes at each other.  Really, this was the way that every class should be run!

Her delight was evident on her face as she entered.  And Professor Librarian Morgan was already there!  He was up front, talking to a woman who had to be the new professor and saying hello to one of the nicer Gryffindors, Hannah Harper.  That felt rather like a betrayal to Noriko.  Why was he saying hello to a Gryffindor?  Why hadn't he said something to her?  Didn't Slytherins look out for their own?

Waiting, she lurked by the door, hesitating before going to find her seat in hopes that her Head of House would notice and greet her as well.

When Hannah walked down to the Potions room for her very first class with the new professor and saw that class had been moved to the library, she was very pleased. Of course, she knew her brother was probably very unhappy about having to deal with them - he didn't like kids very much, or people in general - but she knew that she'd have it made. Favoritism was such an ugly word, but Hannah already knew when it came to finding references and writing essays, she wouldn't be floundering like the rest of her fellow first-years.

When she got to the library, she immediately made a beeline for Landis, who was talking with a woman who looked way too young to be their professor (but then, their last one had been young and pretty too). A new professor was not that daunting of a prospect to Hannah, certainly not intimidating enough to keep her from saying hello to her brother. After all, she was a Gryffindor, a house known for its reckless bravery. It seemed like a silly distinction until you kept in mind that some other firsties - Wakahisa was already here, Hannah noted carefully - were a lot more timid.

"Hannah," he said mildly, as she bounced up to him. "You're going to behave, aren't you?"

There was just enough amusement in his voice for it to count as teasing. Hannah beamed at him. (Slowly, so slowly, she was working on both her brothers' antisocial tendencies. Especially in public.)

"Of course I am," she replied smartly, just before the new professor spoke to her. Hannah's pale eyes flickered from Landis' face to the woman's, then back to Landis'. It looked almost as if she was trying to confirm something, but her brother's expression was unreadable. The professor's name had been on the sheet stuck to her door, something French. Vaillancourt, Hannah remembered, and her mother had made certain that she had tutors to teach her enough French to know how to pronounce it correctly.

“Hannah, is it?” She nodded, her eyes returning to stay on Professor Vaillancourt this time. “Why don’t you have a seat with your classmates? We’re going to begin very soon.”

Hannah didn't need the hand on her back to turn obediently and start towards the desks; when it came, though, she didn't so much as glance up at the professor in query, the easy faith that came from being a child for whom physical contact had always been the loving and well-intentioned sort. Hannah was the precious girl of her family, after all - the apple of her mother's eye, recipient of her father's absent affection, and neutral beloved party between two warring brothers.

And she may have been perceptive, but there were still many things that flew over her head; when the professor whispered to her playfully, she didn't think twice about responding lightly, thoughtlessly, "He's my brother," just before she slipped out from under Juliette's hand and took a desk near Charles. She smiled at him, feeling bad for him as he handed his bag over to the professor, before glancing back towards the door to see if anyone else had entered.

Venora was running late as per usual for her. Even though her daddy had bought her a brand new wrist watch for Christmas, time still seemed to play tricks on the young, absent mindded Hufflepuff. Even with a gentle reminder from Dahlia regarding the time, Venora still had dawdled.

So when she arrived at the potions door, she already felt the urgency that came from knowing she was running late. Seeing the note from the professor, Venora took off in the direction of the school's library.

She arrived at her destination out of breath and a bit frazzled and she was about to head towards her good friend, Dahlia, to take a seat and talk before the class was to begin when she caught sight of their new professor.

She was positively lovely! Venora's eyes became rivited on the woman's brilliantly hued red hair. It was the color of flames! Venora was so taken by this observation that she bumped into the student ahead of her. This caused her belongings to slip from her hold and fall to the floor.

"Blast!" came her exclaimation, one that seemed to echo throughout the library. As she automatically bent to retrieve her disheveled books and papers, a frown settled on her cherubic face. She kept her eyes averted, not wanting to look at what was sure to be many disapproving glares from her fellow students, her new professor, and the librarian for disturbing the peace.

Eirene had burst into the library early and waited for the professor, completely oblivious that the redheaded woman might be her. She didn't look like a professor! When Charles had guessed it first, she'd felt so mortified that she had stayed silent for a few minutes, worried that the professor might be offended that she hadn't greeted her! And oh, did she have a greeting in mind. Eirene had recited it in the mirror and everything!

So it was no surprise when Eirene almost had an envy-fueled heart attack upon noticing that Hannah Harper had reached her first. First! The sneaky little Gryffindor even received an inkling of a smile from the librarian! Who was her brother, but still.

Eirene hovered extremely close by (close enough to almost bump into the woman's backside) as the new professor asked to see Charles Harcroft's bag. Ooooo was he going to get into trouble? Eirene shook her head, convinced that she would have cradled the bottle of ink like a baby, swaddled it in cushions, and held it close to her heart before letting it fall. And no way would she ever break two!

Silly boy. This was a new professor, and first impressions were so important.

Eirene gestured towards Noriko to hurry up and sit with her (the girl was lurking by the doorway- she'd never make a good impression that way), and frowned disapprovingly when Venora dropped her things.

"Shhhhhh!" Eirene put her finger to her lips and shook her head at her classmate, making no move to help her and instead moving in front of Professor Vaillancourt.

She offered the professor an enthusiastic grin and said in a hushed voice (which still echoed in the library), "Hello, Professor! I'm Eirene Antonopoulos. I would have brought you an apple or an orange or something," she wrung her hands and glanced at the librarian, "but it's the library, and I didn't want to break the no food rule. But it's so good to meet you! Did the last professor talk about me? Did she tell you I got an 'O' on the midterm? Because I did," Eirene stared up at her eagerly, just waiting for a sign of approval, a glimmer of a smile, or even a pat on the head.

Dahlia looked to the new Professor as she was singled out. Her expression was a rather bashful one, "Collins, ma'am, Dahlia Collins, from uh Hufflepuff." She hung her head once the Professor was done with her and moved on to seat Hannah and then inspect Charles' bag. Dahlia had noticed Eirene tailing after the red headed woman and didn't want to see the look on Eirene's face after she had been awarded five whole points just for loaning an ink well to Charles.

Eirene was always harping for points and hated whenever someone else got them. Dahlia never set out to earn points. She liked when she did get them but only when she felt she earned them. This time however she didn't feel she had actually earned them. Five whole points just for keeping Charles from running all the way back to Gryffindor tower? It seemed almost frivolous. Maybe Professor Vaillancourt wasn't going to be any better than Darling.

"Don't mention it." She said softly to Charles not wanting to draw any more attention to herself. She hung her head again and focused on the empty parchment in front of her, hoping the class would just start already.

Sister? His sister? Well, this was a pleasant surprise. Juliette’s bee-stung bottom lip found itself sinking at the mercy of her teeth, which offered a coy, half-grin of sorts to... herself. “Well, Miss Harper, let your brother know you’re in good hands with me,” she murmured as the girl trailed away to her seat.

The redhead’s gaze wondered ever so briefly over the infiltrating infants, whose soft minds however invisible to the eye, were certainly ripe for swaying.

The timid and tiny one with black hair did not seem as if she would be a problem. The one to whom she’d awarded points, Collins from Hufflepuff, was sure to be a breeze, too. Then there as the sullen girl, who looked like a porcelain doll from someone’s nightmares, beautiful and straw-haired and slightly terrifying... the sort of girl Juliette would have wanted to be when she was eleven.

Finally, her attention became trapped on the boy with the ink shortcomings. Juliette’s eyes remained locked on the boy’s own as she grabbed the bag. She didn’t take kindly to being ignored; she knew she commanded more attention than that, particularly from people who barely stood taller than her nipped waist. Thus, she studied the child for a rather lengthy moment, perhaps hoping to instill a bit of caution into his heart. Possibly in vain, from the rumors she’d heard about the children who wore red and gold detailing on their school uniforms. But then Landis’ sister seemed perfectly lovely, and she was one of those lion-emblazoned ones, too. Juliette would have to abandon prejudice and take them on as individuals... even if they were prepubescent and prone to spilling ink around centuries’ old artifacts.

Kids were like perfumes: the top notes might have been similar, hitting you with first impressions, dizzying your mind to the distinctions. But underneath...

“What’s your name?” She asked him, finally plunging her eyes into the depths of the bag. Her wand followed suit. She gave it a subtle swish, and the ink was sucked into the wand’s tip as if it were being vacuumed. She handed the bag back, and tilted her head, waiting for an answer.

But one hurtle bred another, and even Juliette gave a little jump at the sound of boulders hitting the library floor. Or textbooks slapping on hardwood, and echoing against cavernous walls and cathedral windows.

Turning, Juliette found herself focusing on a flustered little girl, whose papers were snowing across the library floor. This was turning out to be a fantastic first day. Juliette could only silently hope that there was a vibrantly blue vein making itself known, throbbing brilliantly on Landis Morgan’s perfect, high brow.

Another wand wave, and everything collected itself, floating in a pristine stack just above the girl’s waist. “Hurry to your seat,” she called, beckoning the girl with not a hand or wand.

Before she could position herself to begin a brief introduction, Juliette was bombarded yet again. Her brows knitted in confusion, looking for the source. Again, she found herself looking downward, only not quite as far as some of the frightfully small ones stood. This girl was taller, freckled, and vociferous in her hurried whisper. Juliette’s brows let up, and eyes widened.

“That’s... kind of you, Eirene,” she managed, bringing a hand to her throat to help herself swallow. The girl was stifling, to say the least. “I have not met your previous professor, but it doesn’t surprise me you did well.” O for Overwhelming. “Your enthusiasm is commendable.” She offered a small smile and curt nod. “But we don’t use the O.W.L. grading system in my class until fourth year. I want you to worry more about learning the basics, and less about the letter stamped atop your assignments. Yes?”

"Alright, everyone!" Her voice carried and she floated toward front and center, as if an invisible podium marked her position. "Let's begin. I'm Professor Vaillancourt, as you might already know from the sign I posted on the classroom dorm. I've worked in Potions for many years, mostly in France, where I also schooled. You'll forgive me if I ask your houses when I give or take points-- I'm still learning, but I'm a very quick learner."

"In this class, I expect you, also, to absorb and retain information, and to put it to use. You will not have to be quick as I, but you will have to persistent. Determined. Deserving. If your mind works in such a manner than your marks are top priority, learning second, I would like you take a moment-- right now-- and toss that creed in the bin."

She paused, before continuing. "We do not take unnecessary shortcuts. We do not memorize pages of text for an exam and then forget them when it's over. This is potions. You are expected to practically apply what you learn-- be through reading, watching, or experimenting. I appreciate intelligence, but I do not tolerate laziness. I will be patient with you if and when you earn it. If you bring nothing to my class, I will not waste my time, either."

Finally, she turned her head a fraction, locks of fire spilling over her shoulder. Her blue gaze flickered over Landis' own, more cat-like orbs, and she waited for him to make a move.

"I brought you all here," she said, returning her attention to her class. "To learn how to properly use your resources to your advantage. You are lucky: Hogwarts has a plethora of knowledge available to your fingertips and your minds. It is true that I want you to work hard, but you must also work smart. Learning to find references-- and to use them-- early on, will be of great benefit to you later. Your N.E.W.T. level examiners will no doubt expect you to back up your claims with facts and sources. And in my class, I do not expect a regurgitation of everything printed in your Potions text. Summarizing without supplementing, or bringing your own angle to something, is a lazy man's form of plagiary. So let me introduce your librarian, Mr. Morgan."

A few other students trickled in, but altogether, this was a very small group. Not that Landis minded, but he hoped Vaillancourt didn't presume he'd give this lecture again just because so many students were missing. He watched with (slightly malicious) amusement as the new professor waded into the group of children, eyes slanted and lips curled into a very small smirk. The only thing to damper his amusement was the knowing half-grin on her face as she guided Hannah to her seat, a discomforting indication of plans being laid, and the idea that, as enjoyable as it was to watch someone at the mercy of the first-years,  he would be next.

She seemed, speaking purely objectively of course, adequately trained in her field. She was obviously intelligent, Landis noted, as he half-listened to her spiel, and made an acceptable nursemaid, if her cleaning of Harcroft's bag and gathering together of MacGregor's papers was any indication (coddling actions - Landis would have left MacGregor to clean up her mess herself, and let Harcroft suffer for his own mistake).

As it were, when Juliette wrapped it up, Landis was murmuring quietly under his breath as his eyes scanned the desks. It seemed almost as though he was talking to himself until one noticed the quill scribbling diligently in the air at his waist onto a piece of parchment. Faintly he could be heard saying things like, "Kearney, Keegan," and "Sinclair, Madeline," and "O'Fearghail, Mairead" (this last one was particularly memorable). As Juliette relinquished the floor to him, he raised his eyes briefly to hers, the quill stopped scribbling and zoomed off, and he stepped forward.

He turned his head toward her. "The absent students," he said, absolutely expressionless, as the paper sailed towards Juliette and smartly folded itself up at grabbing-height. The action was not as kind as it seemed; this wasn't mercy for a new professor who didn't yet know which of her students was which, and who hadn't taken any sort of attendance. He thought she had a suspicious enough mind to check his list against her roster, eventually - when she did, she'd realize that he'd left off the absent Slytherins. This fact may have explained the reappearance of his faint smirk as he glided past her, to the front of the desks.

Of course, the fact that he'd had cause to know enough of the first-years to realize which were missing was rather depressing to him. He supposed that sort of thing was inevitable when one worked in a school, in such a public place as the library where he had to wait for them to make a commotion before he could actually throw them out. Not that it took long, usually. Particularly with the Grffyindors, many of which were - mercifully - missing today.

Although he did have Antonopoulos, who'd been compared to a young Hermione Granger in her near-obnoxious eagerness to please by some of the older members of the faculty who could remember her. Better than the explosive Gryffindor duo of Kearney and O'Fearghail, though.

"As Professor Vaillancourt said, the library offers many advantages to you in your studies.  It is one of the largest collections of magical books in Britain, and well-tailored to your needs. I will be available most of the time should you have dire need of me - " amazing how he managed not to grit his teeth through that offer - "but particularly in the weeks leading up to exams, there will be a great many students and only one librarian. Regardless of the circumstances, you are expected to know how to locate and make use of the resources here without assistance. To your right is the Potions section, the shelves which will be particularly helpful to you for this class, but every section is labeled, and every section has a listing of the books contained and their numbers in it." His tone turned dry. "The Restricted section is, obviously, off-limits. Do not attempt to enter it without permission, lest you find yourself in an entirely different form than that in which you entered."

This last remark would have been directed particularly towards the Gryffindors, if many of them had been present. As it were, he sent a quelling look at Hannah, who'd started smiling as soon as he mentioned the Restricted section. She seemed to be under the daft impression that he'd let her in there merely because they were family, an impression he'd attempted to correct multiple times already. Well, if she tried to go in, she'd find his threat valid enough. Even if she did seem unaffected by his glare.

"There are several ways to locate the texts you require. Today, you will be learning a few of them, including how to search using call numbers. You will also learn a rudimentary seek-spell on the off chance that you are having especial difficulty, or if the book is old enough not to have an easily distinguishable call number."

He did not stop to  ask if there were any questions. But he did pause a moment, even though he knew this would be interpreted as weakness and that Antonopoulos would likely take advantage of it.


(( POST TOO LONG. Landis will continue his demonstration in my next post, afffter I talk to Elle. Late students, feel free to come in. Already present students, feel free to cause mischief or think very hard about what you're learning. Tor... well, you know. ))

Effie looked up as Eirene entered the library, she half expected her to sit down next to her and when she didn’t Effie was quite offended. Well, the offended feeling lasted for only a mere moment, a second if that. She was soon content with keeping her eyes to her book and not caring about stupid Eirene and the girl she chose to sit with. What did she care? Eirene was to easily corrupted by those goodie goodies. She didn’t need a friend like that. Silent treatment for Eirene over the course of the next week or so would be suitable punishment. If anything Effie should feel happy that she didn’t have that suffocating girl around her all the time. It had been a burden to have to be her friend, but now she was free enough she could chose when she wanted to associate with Eirene. Yes, when it suited her and right now it did not.

Effie watched with a snicker as Eirene, the never changing suck up started to speak with the new professor. Effie must admit though that the new Professor was much more put together than the last. Effie might actually learn something from this professor opposed to the last one. Effie might actually have some respect for this one, anyway it seemed more promising. She actually felt a smile stretch across her lips for a second or two. She even went as far as to close her book as the professor began to speak. Maybe just maybe Effie would make an attempt to talk with her. She would look into her office hours, Effie made a mental note to do so later.

Finally class was beginning, this was what she needed to keep her attention. As useless as she thought this would be, she quickly began to realize that it was for the best. Sure she had spent quite a bit of time within the library so far this school year, but she supposed it would best to learn it from the aspect the professor wished her to use it. Effie was more than familiar with the potions sections, and many of the others. The only one she had yet to venture to was the restricted section, but boy was she eager. More than anything she wanted the permission to peruse the pages of those old, musty, dark books.