Bamic Street High

Chapter 3: Drowning Lessons

Before they could even think about performing some amateur electrician work on Professor Wire's wire, though, it was time for the girls' very first lesson at Bamic Street High School. They looked at their timetables, and saw with relief that they were all in the same classes. First up was English, which was held in the school dungeon. As they stood puzzling over the school map they had been provided with, an older boy glanced over their shoulders and whistled.

"Anderson for your first lesson? Not exactly breaking things in gently for you, are they?" He walked off laughing with a group of friends, leaving the girls to wonder what he meant.

"I wonder what he meant," said Emily, literally just repeating what the narrative voice just said.

"Ano man. Ah fort that Anderson wis heavy hot. UGH SKELP MA ARSE DADDY!"

The others simply started at her.

"I'm sure he was just joking," said Freya, quickly changing the subject. "I mean, surely no one could be as beastly as that awful Bradfield character. Was that a Greggs sausage roll in his pants or was he just pleased to see us?"

"Ah jist wish aw our lessons could be fae that hunky Professor Wire," sighed Emily. At the mere mention of his name, they all gazed into space with a dreamy look on their face.

There wasn't time to dawdle, though, as a prefect soon came along to hurry them along down into the dungeons. They arrived before Professor Anderson, so they had a few minutes to gaze around the subterranean classroom and the unusual objects that filled it. On one wall was a dartboard with a picture pinned to it of a man with long hair playing a red guitar. At least, that was what they thought it was- it was clear that quite a few darts had been thrown at it over the years, so there wasn't much of the photo left. On another there was a map of the UK with everywhere but London scribbled out- underneath, someone had written, "Only play here- I'm NOT performing for those jock cunts again!!" The class was just jostling to examine a small box containing a spoon, a lighter, a belt, and a strange powder when they heard a door slam open above them. They all rushed to take their seats.

After a few moments, Professor Anderson entered. He had greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin, drawn over cheekbones sharp enough to gouge "4 REAL" into your forearm. He wore a billowing cape which swept behind him as he walked, giving him the appearance of an oversized bat. As he rushed down the aisle between desks, the students felt a chill go through them; they weren't sure whether it was due to the breeze blown by the cape, or the glowering look which Anderson shot them. After glaring at them for a few moments from the front of the class, he began to speak.

"There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class. As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is literature. However, for those select few who possess the predisposition... I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death. Then again, maybe some of you have come to Bamic Street in possession of abilities so formidable that you feel confident enough to not pay attention!"

With this last word, he slammed a fist down onto Natalie's desk. She flew up out of her chair, banged her head on the ceiling of the dungeon with a dreadful crack, then fell back into her seat. She had evidently not been paying attention to what Anderson had been saying; instead, she had been drawing Professor Wire sans pantalon- at first glance, he looked like Jake the Peg with his extra leg, but that was in fact his anatomically correct member dangling down.

"Miss Godfrey," hissed Anderson, his forked tongue flickering out of his mouth as he spoke. "Our new celebrity. Could you perhaps tell me, Godfrey, what the difference is between an absolute modifier and a superlative?"

What? Natalie glanced at Olivia, who looked as stumped as she was; Freya's hand had shot into the air.

"I don't know, sir," said Natalie.

"Tut, tut. Clearly fame isn't everything." At this remark, a few Slytherins who were there for some reason, even though this isn't Harry Potter, laughed uproariously.

"I ought to spit right in your face," continued Anderson. "But then you'd probably like that, wouldn't you, you disgusting little sissy?" Natalie blushed and buried her face in her textbook, but when she got up to leave at the end of the class, those next to her couldn't help but notice that her seat was rather damp.

"For future reference," Anderson went on, "I want to make it perfectly clear to all of you that in this classroom, I am the master. You will do exactly as I say. There will be no easy treatment. No safewords. You will obey me PRECISELY!" As he was speaking he had his hand behind his back, and with this final word he brought it out to reveal he was holding a horsewhip, which he proceeded to slam down on his desk with such force that the class could swear they heard it moan with delight.

"Do I make myself clear?" No one dared to say anything in response. "I shall take that as a yes. Now, our first lesson will be on the Marquis de Sade..."

The lesson that followed was brutal, but despite the mental pounding that Anderson gave them all, they somehow made it through. It was a relief to get out of the dungeon and into the daylight again; the whole time they had been in Anderson's classroom, it had felt as if they were being choked. Olivia seemed to be the only one who enjoyed the lesson, though. With English out of the way, the girls gathered in the entrance hall once more to look over their timetables. Simultaneously, they all squealed with delight. Up next was double Defence Against The Dark Arts- and that meant two hours with Mr Shiny Trousers himself!