Fiona Brand
At the front of the class, Fiona was not noticed by most of her friends. Before their eyes fell on her, they would fall on someone closer to the door, missing her completely.
This did not last forever. Some of her Ferre friends finally noticed her, making fun of how she’d pulled out paper and quill before they even figured out which class they’d been sitting through.
“I can’t remember a thing if I don’t write it down,” she said.
They fell into a casual conversation as the room filled. Fiona spat out responses robotically, filling in the conversational gaps as they arose, but not really hearing or listening to her friends. Her disinterest did not show on the outside, she seemed to anyone looking, to be the same old Fiona, just chatting away.
The word mudblood pulled her away, and she focused her attention for the first time since people started filling in the room.
"I don't need your head blocking my view of the board," West. Ugh.
The poor first year almost spilled her bag on the ground in her hurry to move. The small red head was one of Fiona’s first year Ferre.
“Sit here,” Fiona called, pointing to the desk right behind her, smiling then casting a scowl at West.
She wanted to use her authority as a prefect to reprimand West, but West was a seventh year, and a spoiled rich kid. It was better to let it alone.
“Arietem house is mostly full of jerks,” she said to the first year, “Everyone hates them.”
The little girl blushed again.
As if proof of her point, another Arietem jerk, Lucius Todd, sat down only a few seats from her along with his cronies.
The moment the professor strode into the room all chatter stopped. He was a tall man, and though he wasn’t burley, there was a strength to him. He held himself with a confidence that was hard to ignore.
Fiona sighed and felt a acidic pang of anxiety in her stomach when he ordered the desks aside. She’d been hoping for a simple lesson to start the year. Some theory, maybe a discussion, not any practical spell work that demanded and on the spot performance.