Post by lovingthissite on Oct 27, 2009 11:14:04 GMT
Zane leaned on his oak desk staring over his teaching room, rows upon rows met him, desks spanned across the room, and then nine back, some sat on balacony like steps, sitting side ways. Each desk already had its book book placed on it and a notebook and pen.
He had spent three hours geting desks out of stacks and getting and dusting the books, and yet somthing till wasin't right, what was it? The line on his forehead became noticible as he consintrate on the room, what was missing, he smacked his foreheadas the idea came to him,rules of what not to do, he sighed andswung around his desk, slamming his palm on it and hurdling over. He whispered a charm and a closet door appeared, rumming through it he found a whole stake of papers, he hate to use magic to do work ,but he was tired. He took out his wand and all the paper's gently lifted and began to float out of the door and onto the desks.
When the last one landed with a whisp of wind. Zane stepped out closing the door and it vanished. He hurdled the desk again and stared at the room, perfect. It was missing the creepie smoke and skeletons hanging on the wall but that could wait.
He wondered if anyone would peek in to see, if they could steall anythin while theDefensive Dark Arts teacher was away, he wouldn't be all to surprised, he had some dangerous stuff in here. Things that could kill half, and forever wound the other. He picked up a clip board from his desk, handwritten, he might add, he looked at his class roster, he didn't put thm in aphbetical order, no he put them in order of housem Slytherin, the troublsome bunch on top. A Weasly eh?, His face became a bit surprised, that was unheard of, but he was use to change, and Hogwarts was due for some.
He set the clip board down and walked around around his desk plopping down into his seat and swinging his legs onto his desk, in the cross position, a book appeared in his hands and then he was gone, reading his preciuas book.
He drowned himself in it, he wouldn't come out of it either, the whole school could be on fire, and he wouldn't know it, someone would have to rip the book from his hands, and hope not to be set on fire before he would stop reading it.
He had spent three hours geting desks out of stacks and getting and dusting the books, and yet somthing till wasin't right, what was it? The line on his forehead became noticible as he consintrate on the room, what was missing, he smacked his foreheadas the idea came to him,rules of what not to do, he sighed andswung around his desk, slamming his palm on it and hurdling over. He whispered a charm and a closet door appeared, rumming through it he found a whole stake of papers, he hate to use magic to do work ,but he was tired. He took out his wand and all the paper's gently lifted and began to float out of the door and onto the desks.
When the last one landed with a whisp of wind. Zane stepped out closing the door and it vanished. He hurdled the desk again and stared at the room, perfect. It was missing the creepie smoke and skeletons hanging on the wall but that could wait.
He wondered if anyone would peek in to see, if they could steall anythin while theDefensive Dark Arts teacher was away, he wouldn't be all to surprised, he had some dangerous stuff in here. Things that could kill half, and forever wound the other. He picked up a clip board from his desk, handwritten, he might add, he looked at his class roster, he didn't put thm in aphbetical order, no he put them in order of housem Slytherin, the troublsome bunch on top. A Weasly eh?, His face became a bit surprised, that was unheard of, but he was use to change, and Hogwarts was due for some.
He set the clip board down and walked around around his desk plopping down into his seat and swinging his legs onto his desk, in the cross position, a book appeared in his hands and then he was gone, reading his preciuas book.
He drowned himself in it, he wouldn't come out of it either, the whole school could be on fire, and he wouldn't know it, someone would have to rip the book from his hands, and hope not to be set on fire before he would stop reading it.