The lesson flew by, with only three groups taking the field, which let the students further down the list breathe a sigh of relief.
Of course, they had barely let that breath out before sucking it back in themselves.
After all, this was Professor Holmes's class, and a practical lesson at that. How could the essay possibly be short?
"Five feet."
Douglas stood by the lake, thermos in hand, and casually delivered that chilling figure. "Analyze the tactical choices in any one of the three matches you observed today, including but not limited to the attackers' route planning, the defenders' mistakes in resource allocation, and interference from neutral creatures."
He paused and looked at the pale-faced students.
"Oh, right. Cite the theoretical frameworks in chapters three and five of the Pink Booklet. Purely descriptive accounts will not be accepted. At the next practical lesson, I hope to see improvement based on your conclusions, rather than the same mistakes being made over and over."
Groans rose all around.
At dinner, an air of suffering hung over the Hogwarts Great Hall-though only among the sixth-year Defense Against Dark Magic students.
A five-foot analytical essay. Five feet, right after their very first practical lesson.
"Five feet!" Ron stabbed his fork into a piece of steak, then addressed the other Gryffindors in an impassioned speech. "Do you know what the best part today was?"
Harry looked up at him with a helpless quirk of his lips. He had lost count of how many times he had heard Ron tell this story since class ended.
Ron was positively glowing, completely ignoring the fact that Hermione was rolling her eyes beside him. "So, that Impedimenta I cast..."
"You mean when you 'slipped'? Everyone heard you," Hermione cut in coldly.
"Yes! A perfect slip!" Ron was so