'We're gonna fail our O.W.L.s,' said Ron miserably as he collapsed in a chair. Hermione had just left for the girls' dormitory, leaving Harry and Ron alone. 'If we can't even find the muse, or concentration, to do our homework, there's no way we're going to complete the essays.' Hermione had been their only hope for completing any sort of assignment, and she had already gone to bed. If the pair were going to do any work, it would've been a bunch of false information.
'I better hope Professor Umbridge let's me do homework in detention,' said Harry, though he couldn't help but agree with his friend. The Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson was a tragedy, and Potions was never Harry's favourite subject. He exhaled loudly, slouching in his chair. The breath had been building up in his chest without realising it, and when he released it, he was not only releasing air but stress—well, not all of it. What was Umbridge's detention like? She definitely didn't have fans like Lockhart, yet she seems as poisonous as Snape . . .
'Hey, what are those girls giggling about?' asked Ron, pointing to a group of third-years consisting of both male and female. The girls seemed way too energetic for their own good, while the boys appeared to be agreeing with—whatever they were talking about—them more calmly.
'That was the best Care of Magical Creatures lesson ever!' squealed a girl, earning nods from the rest of the group.
'Yeah, Professor Grubbly-Plank and Professor Kirkland are waaay better than Hagrid! They taught us how to defend ourselves against a creature, not to baby them!' That caught Ron and Harry's attention.
'Oi!' shouted Ron, jumping to his feet. 'If I hear you gossiping about Hagrid again, there will be consequences!' Harry silently agreed, knowing that Hagrid wouldn't enjoy gossip about him when he wasn't present at Hogwarts. The startled third-years nodded, before continuing their conversation in hushed whispers. Though, Harry raised an eyebrow. They had talked about the two professors teaching them how to defend themselves . . . Shouldn't the defending be left to Defence Against the Dark Arts? Oh wait, the toad wouldn't allow it.
'That's strange,' commented Ron, voicing Harry's thoughts.
'Professor Kirkland must've done something.' Harry lowered his head, thinking. The professor appeared too young to be teaching as a professor already, didn't he? Well, Dumbledore already hired a stupid Ministry Official . . . So, was age no longer the limits? Or was there something bigger going on? He remembered how Professor Kirkland didn't seem too happy when he saw Harry—does he read the Daily Prophet, too? Or maybe, he's a Ministry Official, too. So many questions, yet so little answers . . . Harry noticed Ron's focused stare on the third-years, appearing to be eavesdropping on them. Harry leaned forward unintentionally, but he couldn't deny he also wanted to hear more about Professor Kirkland.
'He's so cute!' whisper-yelled yet another female. 'Ah, I want to squeeze him to death!' Harry sighed. Fans weren't new to Hogwarts. He had experienced plenty already, including Colin Creevey. But to gush over a professor? Now that's weird. Maybe he had put some sort of spell over the third-years . . . Or did he put one on himself? Once again, more questions.
'He's cool and all,' began a boy, 'but for some reason, I feel a tight connection with him. As if we've known each other for centuries.' Now that caught Harry's attention. A newly appointed professor . . . Even if he was so charming, why did the students feel so attached already? One lesson, he's been with the third-years, and look at them!
'Me too.' A more calm female nodded. 'It's weird, honestly.' And that's when Fred and George swaggered over to them.
'Ayy, my little pals!' Fred chimed in, slapping a surprised male on the back.
'Whatcha talking about?' George asked merrily, though he was smirking.
'Hi!' a third-year boy chirped. 'You're Fred and George Weasley, right? I'm Andrew Kirke! It's nice to meet you.'
'Same to you!' beamed Fred. 'Hey, how about—'
'You two buffoons already know how Hermione feels about your—rather helpful—treats.' Ron flashed them a cheeky grin. Fred and George looked a little crestfallen, but they continued talking.
'So, what were you all chatting about?' George repeated his previous question, due to the lack of answers from the third-years.
'Professor Kirkland,' answered Andrew Kirke. 'They're obsessed.' He jerked his small head towards the females. The only quiet one stepped away. Fred and George laughed in unison, enjoying the flustered blushes on the girls' faces.
'Leave them alone!' Ron joined in teasingly. 'It's not their fault he's so good-looking. He also probably gave them a lesson on romance.' The shade of red deepened by a notch. It appeared Harry only noticed Ron's attempt to keep the third-years talking.
'Ewww!' The first boy from before seemed playfully disgusted with all of them. 'For your information, he did not!'
'Oh, really?' Fred lowered himself and peered right into the third-year's face. 'What did he teach you, then?'
'Mareventis,' replied the boy proudly. Ron and Harry exchanged confused glances. Were they going to be taught about Mareventis, too? Or . . . Harry's suspicious mind took another leap.
'Could Mareventis potentially be killing machines, ready to pick off the innocent third-years one by one?
'Harry, stop it.' Ron cut into Harry's train of thought. 'You look as if you've swallowed a spider, mate.' Ron scrunched up his face. 'Ugh, that would be horrible.' Harry laughed quietly, before tuning back in on the main, and rather important, conversation. The third-years were all spluttering out embarrassed answers for the Weasley twins, who seemed quite satisfied with their work. Though, Harry managed to pick up snippets of information about Mareventis. Apparently, Professor Kirkland had one called "Vent" or something - and that they were native to New Zealand. Harry remembered hearing something about New Zealand back in his old school, but he wished he could remember it clearly. Didn't it have something to do with Australia? Yeah, it did. The ravenette desperately searched his mind for any scraps of memories about New Zealand. They're really nice, right? They like kiwi fruits? Wait, no, it's not a fruit . . . reptile, maybe. Harry narrowed his eyes, though he remembered the History class had been interrupted with jeers and taunts . . . Hm. Professor Kirkland does look really nice, but I don't know about the others. Maybe he doesn't have anything to do with New Zealand, and the Mareventi thing is all a coincidence. When Harry turned, he noticed that Ron also appeared to be deep in thought. Harry wondered what ideas he was coming up with, before realising he was probably worrying about if Professor Kirkland was going to make their Care of Magical Creatures homework about Mareventis. Harry's eyes widened as he came to terms with that Mareventis probably would be homework, and that it was going to add a lot more stress on both of them. Did Hermione know anything about these creatures? Knowing Hermione, she would and then ignore Ron's and Harry's pleads for her to say something.
'I'm going to bed,' huffed Harry as he packed his books away in his bag. He would think more about this in the morning, if he wasn't straining to complete his uncompleted work. He saw Seamus staring at him, his eyes glittering in anticipation and his mouth open. Harry quickly passed him, not willing to deal with his business. Seamus can wait, sleep can't.

Hermione had joined Harry and Ron again by morning, patiently listening to their recounts about what happened after she left. She, once again, thought Harry's suspicions were crazy.
'Hermione,' groaned Harry, 'I'm telling you, he's not what he seems.'
'Harry, for the love of Merlin, Professor Kirkland isn't suspicious! He's an ordinary professor, who wants an ordinary job. You instantly assume any new professor is evil, I swear.'
'Well, I mean,' started Ron, 'he hasn't been wrong. Lockhart is an exception, though he was fake as all hell. Did Harry even suspect him in the first place? I can't remember. Lupin doesn't count either, so don't get me started on him—Harry liked him, and so did I. Umbridge is a bluffing old hag, who can't see the truth even if it walked up to her and greeted her happily.'
'He didn't suspect Quirrell, though,' said Hermione sneakily. 'Or Ma -'
'Okay, guys, I get it!' whispered Harry loudly. 'Also, Hermione, at this point you're agreeing with Ron. I haven't suspected any professor, except Professor Kirkland and Snape.'
'You've probably had your suspicions about more,' grumbled Hermione, leaning back. Harry just decided to agree. He didn't want to argue, he wanted to get this day done as soon as possible. Instead, he turned towards the staff table. Still no Hagrid. It didn't help that the weather was still poor - Merlin knows how those Gryffindor and Slytherin third-years survived their Care of Magical Creatures class. 'Anyways, if this Mareventi thing is real, I'll be excited for our next lesson,' said Hermione.
'Wait, you're telling us you don't know what a Mareventi is?' Ron gasped, looking quite shocked. Hermione huffed and crossed her arms, clearly not amused. 'Aw, I was only joking . . .'
'If there's one thing I'm happy about,' Hermione began, 'is that the house-elves took the clothes.' Harry smiled slightly. Fat chance.
'Yeah, right.' Ron also appeared to share Harry's opinion. 'They looked nothing like clothes, so they probably didn't count. Where did you learn your skills from?' Hermione stood up and left, to the surprise of surrounding students.
Harry and Ron walked into the Charms classroom, being the last two students who arrived. Hermione smiled smugly at them as they received a scolding from Professor Flitwick, before urgently telling them to sit down. The two boys obliged, and continued to listen to fifteen minutes worth about O.W.L.s. They revised Summoning Charms—well, Harry didn't need to, due to the fact he mastered them last year, but practice never hurts—and finished off the rather easy lesson with a ton of homework. Double Transfiguration also started with a lecture about O.W.L.s from Professor McGonagall. But this lesson was definitely harder than Charms. Professor McGonagall had the class practice Vanishing Spells, and if they were apparently easier than Conjuring Spells, Harry had no idea how he was going to survive his N.E.W.T.s. Though, after leaving the Transfiguration classroom thinking about the easiest ways to vanish something, he bumped into Professor Kirkland himself.
'Oh, sorry!' the professor squeaked. Harry stumbled backwards, nodding apologetically. Wait. Professor Kirkland! Harry instantly checked the male out, searching for anything suspicious. Professor Kirkland was holding a tissue in his small hands. Was that unusual? Well, no. But it was when it had poked holes in it while black ink drenched it. Harry could barely recognise the English language scrawled (to him, it was backwards) on the tissue. Whoever thought a tissue note was a good idea, obviously wasn't the brightest. Before Harry got a chance to comment, Professor Kirkland had run off, an odd looking item in his hand. It also had ink. What in the name of Merlin does Professor Kirkland possess? Ron had just managed to catch up, a look of plain scepticism on his face. But not even Hermione could come in between their unspoken, shared opinion.
Professor Kirkland's hiding something.