the_debt_of_time

she looked into Remus's beautiful eyes, for it would be Umbridge who would draft the
anti-werewolf legislation that would make his life so difficult in the future.
"Aren't you excited?" James wondered aloud as the five of them entered the room
and immediately took their usual seats near the front. Defence was the only class that James
and Sirius did not linger in the back somewhere.
"I guess," Mia said, bouncing her knee beneath her desk anxiously as though she
were expecting a lump of pink to walk through the door, followed by an annoying, high-
pitched "Hem hem!"
No pink burst through the door, though. Quite the opposite, in fact.
A tall, lithe man with sharp, angular features stepped into the room as if he owned
it. His chin came to an actual point, and his cheekbones were as high as the level to which
he held his nose in the air. When the man turned, Mia was not surprised to see judgmental
eyes looking down at them. What she was surprised to see was that, instead of wearing
typical professor's robes, this man wore the colours of what she could only assume was his
former House at Hogwarts: a green dress shirt and a striped silver tie, covered with black
robes that had a dark green lining.
The Slytherins in the class were beside themselves with amusement.
The Gryffindors all wore matching looks of disgust and horror on their faces.
"I am Professor Higgs. This is Defence Against the Dark Arts. Get out your books,"
he said in a sharply pitched tone. His brows furrowed with an expression that said he was
not happy to be there. He turned around to the chalkboard at the front of the room and
began writing.
"Still excited?" Mia murmured to James, who was already pouting as he pulled The
Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection out of his bag, followed by a roll of parchment.
Knowing that all of the boys except Remus would forget, Mia produced extra quills
for James, Sirius, and even Peter, whom she had been reluctantly trying to be nice to since
her near-mauling of him in the Shrieking Shack the prior month.
When the five of them looked up at the chalkboard to begin taking notes, all four
boys paled at the words on the board, and Mia audibly gasped. Written in beautiful script
was a short list numbered one through five—similar to one found in the books on their
desks.