It was that drudgery time of day in Hogwarts. The time of day that makes students moan and bury their head in their arms. That time of day when the student's souls are at risk of being sucked out of their souls with the precision of a Dementor's kiss. In other words, it was History of Magic.

The Fifth Year students were sitting and staring at the chalkboard in silent anguish, wordlessly begging time to accelerate. Some examples of the latter were Maureen Finnegan, her eyes glued to the clock, documenting every second it made that would indicate the ending of the class. Mary Macdonald was irritably rolling her eyes. Other students were not paying any attention at all, finding ways to prevent themselves from succumbing to the despair that the students in agony were currently experiencing. For example, James Potter and his best friend, Sirius Black, the heroes of Gryffindor (or so they were called by almost every girl in the school below the sixth year) were leaning back on their chairs in unison, passing notes to each other, with an air of mock secrecy. Peter Pettigrew, a rather ratty faced, pudgy boy, who worshiped the ground James and Sirius walked on (it did get a bit annoying at times) was taking a full-blown nap, complete with drooling and snoring, much to the disgust of the Slytherin girl who was burdened with the misfortune of sitting next to him. Gary Jennings, a tall black boy, was casually doodling with a pen, Mulciber and Avery, two Slytherin boys who had an aura of two slimy eels enveloped around them,were playing tic-tac-toe. Only two students actually seemed to be fulfilling the requiem expected in this classroom; actively taking notes, while keeping a keen, attentive ear on Professor Binns, a wheezy, droopy, gloomy, truly boring specter who seemed absolutely unaware of anything going on around him, including his failure to be alive. Professor Binns was plagued with the ability to make every single thing that came out of his mouth sound utterly boring. This was proven through his long speech of the rebellion of the Northern Trolls of Luxembourg. He and he alone could make the subject a heavy duty sleeping potion.

"Mr. Perkins" wheezed Binns out of nowhere.

James lifted his head a fraction. He had long given up the challenge of trying to get Professor Binns to come to the realization that his name was Potter, not Perkins. However, if after your fourth year, he still hasn't had the knowledge diffuse into his mind, he probably won't. That was the number one tip his father had given him about Binns right before he had started Hogwarts.

"Um...sorry. What were you saying, Prof?" he asked lazily.

"What resulted in the mating of the Northern trolls and the Mountain Goblins?" asked Professor Binns snappishly.

He seemed rather miffed about having to repeat something to a student

"Bit rich of him to do that, considering he's probably been repeating the same boring old lectures year after year, with about as much variation as a clump of dirt" thought James to himself. "So umm...the result of trolls mating with goblins" James repeated out loud, his eyes darting toward those of his fellow comrades, hoping that one of them might find it in their hearts to send him a silent hint, to no avail.

Sirius gave him a pitying glance that said "Sorry mate. Would tell you if I did" Remus gave him a rather withering glare that very plainly said "Serves you right. You were not paying attention. You can now pay the consequences that come with it" James didn't even bother to waste his eye sight on Peter who, even if he hadn't just been aroused from his slumber, completely unaware of the lecture, would probably have a better chance of becoming Quidditch Captain that knowing the answer. In an act of sheer desperation, as the seconds mounted rapidly, James swiveled his eyes around to the whole class, silently praying that one of them would know the answer. He frantically turned towards Evans, the prettiest girl in the school. Her emerald green eyes merely narrowed and glared as she shook her head at him and bent over her notes. James wouldn't have minded spending a few more precious seconds of silence on staring at her, but suddenly his view was besmirched by the sight of something not so pretty. A Slytherin boy sitting next to her. The most irritating, sickly little git. James scowled silently.

"Get away from her you filthy little nit! You don't deserve to be near her. You're not worthy of being in her presence much less sitting next to her. What with your greasy hair, and your hooked beaked nose and your sallow face-"

"Mr. Perkins! The answer!" rasped Binn's voice sharply.

The combination of Binn's alerting him that he was supposed to be thinking of an answer for the result of the mating of trolls and goblins, combined with his re-ignited hatred of the slimy little freak resulted in a massive brain wave.

"Uhh..the birth of Severus Snape?" James responded automatically, without even thinking about it.

This answer set the whole class of like a dungbomb. Sirius roared with laughter and slapped his knee so hard that he fell out of his chair. Wormtail sniggered shrilly, letting out that high pitched shriek that no reaction to the insult of Snape was complete without. Mary MacDonald and Marlene Mckinnon produced squeals of "OOHHHH BURN!" in unison. Gary Jennings was laughing so hard, that he was doubled over. Remus had a hand clamped around his mouth, desperately trying not to laugh. However, there was no denying the tears of laughter streaming down his face, his amusement at the epic insult, desperately trying to rise to the surface. Even Professor Binns, who probably had never once in his life cracked a smile, in death found James's answer worth a hearty guffaw. Even the Slytherins were splitting their sides.

Only two people in the entire classroom were not laughing. The object of abuse, Snape, had bitten his lip so hard that it had drawn blood, and buried his head beneath his robes. It seemed as though he was trying not to cry. The second straight-facer was Evans, who had affectionately wrapped her arms around him, (no doubt trying to comfort the big baby) was shooting the cruciatus at James with her eyes. They were filled to the brim with rage. James silently sent up a note of thanks to the heavens that Lily was too much of a stickler to draw wands in the middle of class as well as making a mental note to bolt for Gryffindor Tower the moment all the classes ended, grab his broomstick from his Dormitory, and fly at a breakneck pace as far away from the grounds as possible. Lily wasn't above jinxing in the halls (after classes were over),or the Common Room. Yet despite his fear of getting hit with a pimple-jinx, James couldn't help but notice Lily's mouth was set in an incredibly taut, thin line. It seemed unlikely that she would even consider thickening her lips for centuries.