The Second Week of Classes

History of Magic was boring as always, but it wasn't too bad, since Oleandra had decided to give up on it after all. She resolved to put the absolute minimum of effort into the class, as she had completely stopped caring for the subject; she had more important lessons to focus on. She wasn't being lazy, it was a tactical decision!

"You know, they say history tends to repeat itself," Hermione told Oleandra disapprovingly as they left the class, having once again witnessed her snoring through the period. "It might be boring to you, but it's still important— there's a lesson to be learned…"

"Yeah, yeah," said Oleandra dismissively. "If history repeats itself, then I suppose I'll find out about it when it loops back 'round again, won't I? 'Sides, I don't need this O.W.L., so I'm not going to do any work in this class."

(Note: Oleandra's views may not necessarily reflect the author's.)

"That's brilliant!" said Ron with wide eyes. "Why did I even bother with Binns's homework in the first place?"

Hermione rolled her eyes; very clearly thinking to herself that she was dealing with a pair of numbskulls.

"History is all about learning to avoid repeating the mistakes of the past," she insisted. "Daphne, you know I'm right, don't you…?"

"Learning about history is all about watching idiots inevitably fail to learn from the mistakes of the past," Daphne corrected her. "Since there will always be idiots, there's no use in trying to prevent the unavoidable."

(Note: Daphne's views may reflect the author's.)

"Which effectively makes history useless," Oleandra chimed in. "Which also makes anyone taking History of Magic to N.E.W.T. level just as idiotic as the regular idiots."

It's at this point that Hermione gave up on trying to make anyone pay attention in History of Magic class. Besides, it wasn't as if she was planning on taking the class in her sixth and seventh years, so who exactly was she trying to convince?

Then came a double Potions class with the Gryffindors.

"I have awarded you the grades you would have received if you presented this work in your O.W.L.," said Professor Snape as he swept along the tables, passing back their corrected homework on Moonstones. "This should give you a realistic idea of what to expect in the examination."

…

"The general standard of this homework was abysmal. Most of you would have failed had this been your examination. I expect to see a great deal more effort for this week's essay on the various venom antidotes, or I shall have to start handing out detentions to those dunces who get a 'D.'"

'D' for 'Dreadful' was the next to last worst failing grade; 'T' for 'Troll' was the worst. 'P' for 'Poor' was a just barely failing grade. For passing grades, it went from 'A' for 'Acceptable, to 'E' for Exceeds Expectations' to 'O' for 'Outstanding.'

"What'd you two get for your essays?" Daphne asked after completing her Strengthening Solution (the task of the day) in record time. "I got an 'O.'"

"I got an 'A,'" said Oleandra happily, "I don't even remember drawing these little hearts on top of my 'i's instead of dots; I was barely conscious by the time I started writing. So, yeah, I'm pretty happy with my score."

Fortunately, Oleandra had no patrolling to do this week, and hopefully no more detentions, so she would have plenty of time to do her homework this time around.

"I got an 'E,'" said Tracey with false modesty. "I really thought I had done a perfect job, too."

In any case, Oleandra and Tracey managed to finish their Strengthening Solutions just in time. They delivered the turquoise-coloured potions (which was the colour they were supposed to be) to Professor Snape at the end of class, before heading up together as a group with the Slytherins and the Gryffindors to the Great Hall for lunch.

================================================================

After lunch, the trio walked across the viaduct bridge, and Oleandra and Tracey bade farewell to Daphne. They would be ascending the silver ladder to the Divination classroom, while Daphne would be continuing on into the building to the Arithmancy classroom above the Central Hall.

"Don't look; she's right behind us," Tracey whispered suddenly. "D'you think…"

It was Umbridge.

"Doesn't she have a class to teach?" Oleandra muttered as she began climbing up the ladder to class.

Soon, a third set of clunking sounds added themselves to the ones Oleandra and Tracey were producing by climbing the metal ladder; Umbridge was following them up to the Divination classroom. It was a wonder in and of itself that the squat woman's arms were long enough to reach past her considerable front to grasp the ladder's rungs, Oleandra thought to herself…

Eventually, the three of them made it into the classroom, and Oleandra and Tracey quickly found some seats as far away as possible from Harry and Ron.

"Good afternoon, Professor Trelawney," said Professor Umbridge with a wide smile. "You received my note, I trust? Giving the time and date of your inspection?"

She worked fast; the Ministry of Magic's notice had just come out this very morning. In any case, Umbridge took a seat unnervingly close to the back of Professor Trelawney's chair, before taking out a clipboard, eagerly awaiting the beginning of the class.

"We shall be continuing our study of prophetic dreams today," Professor Trelawney said with a shaky voice. "Divide into pairs, please, and interpret each other's latest night-time visions with the aid of the Oracle."

Oleandra did not particularly want to share her latest nightmare; she had dreamed of her inner world. The Shadows of her past incarnations had all been there, but their eyes had been glassy— their stares vacant and empty. She had woken up shortly afterwards, completely creeped out.

"Er, you go first," said Oleandra, picking up her copy of The Dream Oracle.

"Well, I dreamed about our Beater practise," said Tracey. Except my broom wouldn't brake, and Bludgers kept chasing after me—"

She blushed slightly.

"And, er, you were there too," she added. "Captain Montague and the others were also there, though. You were all laughing at me, so I beat up everyone with my bat, and then that huge Dragon from Nidavellir came out of nowhere and ate all of you— so I went to eat some ice cream. It didn't taste like anything, though."

Oleandra goggled at her.

"What's ice cream got to do with any of that?"

Tracey stared back at her.

"How am I supposed to know? I can't control what I dream about!"