The professor smiles tightly. "I'd love to hear your solution, Mr. Richards."

"Maybe you should stop having fucking slaves!"

She sighs. "I mentioned that they're pathologically afraid of being free. It sends them into a crippling depression. You would be giving them freedom at their own expense."

He grinds his teeth, but doesn't seem to have a response to that.

"It is generally acknowledged that the creation of house-elves was a terrible crime by today's standards," Professor Perks continues. "That does not mean there is an easy solution to the damage it caused. The first lesson of this class is that when you see a societal problem that has existed for centuries, you are usually not the first person to try to solve it. If you have a clever solution, you are encouraged to bring it up - without implying that I and every wizard and witch for fifty generations is evil - and if I don't know offhand whether it's been tried, I'll look it up."

After a few more students give examples of things they've learned (the Ravenclaw boy has a whole little list of incongruities), the professor gives them a general run-down of blood divisions ("you'll learn more about this later, obviously - first class is for covering the basics of everything, then we get into details") and explains the cultural context of the First and Second British Wizarding Wars ("I myself fought in the Battle of Hogwarts") and manages to hold a quick question-and-answer session in the last fifteen minutes.

"So, um, why are wizards... secret?" Joey asks hesitantly.

Professor Perks sighs. "That's a very old, very complicated question, and the answer isn't simple either. There are those who say that if the wizarding world were revealed, muggles would want us to solve all of their problems. That's transparently stupid, but points at an actual problem: the disparity between muggle and wizarding capabilities. Frankly, there's not much that they can offer us that we can't do ourselves, or get by watching them from our invisible cities. We could help them a great deal, but we wouldn't be getting much out of the trade except a case of the warm fuzzies. There are also those who say that if we revealed ourselves, the muggles would start burning us at the stake again. Once again, this is absurd but points at a very real issue, namely that muggles' ability to wage war has advanced far beyond our own in the past few centuries. Up until the nineteenth century, a muggle stood no chance against any but the most lackadaisically educated wizard or witch. As of the second world war, that was no longer true. As of today, if the muggles discovered our existence and wanted to wipe us out, they could likely do it. That's not to say that it would be costless to them, or that it would be easy, or for that matter that they would do it at all. But the possibility cannot be discounted. Of course, with the increase in muggle capabilities, the likelihood that they will find out about us is increasing by the decade as well. Obliviation is only so good a tool. Current projections aim for a controlled revelation of the wizarding world in 2030, at the latest. That timeline gives us time to... clean the skeletons out of our collective closet, if you will."

"Wow. Okay."

The belltower rings three times. "Alright," says Professor Perks, "off you all go. I'll see you all next week at the same time and we'll talk some more about the wars."

Students rise and trickle out of the classroom.

Joey and the other Hufflepuffs stick close to the Slytherins on their way to their next class, which turns out to be Herbology. Joey's not sure why gardening is in the core curriculum, but whatever.

In the greenhouse, there's a tall man who looks about the same age as Professor Perks, laying out trays with little golden flowers in pots. He smiles crookedly at them. "Welcome to Greenhouse 1! And to Hogwarts, if you're not already sick of people saying that. I'm Professor Longbottom. I'm guessing you lot are coming from Sally-Anne's lecture?"

"Yeah," Joey says, considering and discarding the idea of asking how is that actually your name?

"We're going to wait for the other half of the class to-" Professor Longbottom starts. Then the doors to the greenhouse open again and another cluster of kids filters in. "Great! For the ones who are just joining us, I'm Professor Neville Longbottom, and I hope you're all ready for your first Herbology class! If you're not, don't worry, I'll get you ready anyway."

He launches into an explanation of greenhouse safety. ("Since this is Greenhouse 1," he mentions, "some of this isn't strictly necessary. But it's better to be safe than sorry, and in later greenhouses it will definitely be necessary.") Then he sets them to their task: repotting Golden Glories.

"Golden Glories are a very accommodating flower," he says enthusiastically. "And they only need repotting twice annually, which is really convenient for my purposes. You'll be doing this again in the spring, to see how much you've improved. Hold the pot firmly - it might feel a bit off at first, wearing your gloves, but you'll have to get used to it - and gently but firmly tap on the bottom..."

He demonstrates twice, to make sure it sinks in, then sets them to it.

Joey gets distracted halfway through the first demonstration, but the second lets him fill in the gaps. He repots his Golden Glory with a minimum of fuss, though he has to be reminded to put a layer of rocks at the bottom of the pot before filling it with soil.

Following this, he has a Golden Glory in a new pot! He's neither the first nor the last to get it done; Sally and one of the Slytherin girls both appear to have had prior experience, and Clair knocked her pot over and needed to be given a new one and reassured that this was perfectly fine.

Professor Longbottom stops by to check on his work. "Nicely done!" he says. "You can put your pot on the done shelf and go on to lunch, then." 

"Thanks!" he chirps. He puts the pot away carefully, takes off his gloves, and wends his way back to the Great Hall.

It's not full yet, but a good number of students are there already. He serves himself a very appealing sandwich and some fruit salad and sits at the Hufflepuff table next to Leo, who seems like a good and nonthreatening person to sit beside.

"How'd you like your first classes?" Leo asks idly, picking at some greens.

"They were cool! Wizard Culture was really interesting, and Herbology was fun, I liked getting to work with my hands. It's going to be cool seeing all the different magical plants we'll get to work with!"

"Just be careful when we're working with Devil's Snare. Won't kill you, at least the strains we'll be working with, but you don't want to get too tangled up in it. I've heard Professor Longbottom ends up having to rescue a couple of kids a year."

"...and they have eleven-year-olds work with it because..."

"Said it wouldn't kill you, didn't I? Worst case, you get choked and pass out and it drops you."

"I will be very careful around Devil's Snare," Joey decides.

"Good!"

They finish up their respective lunches in good time (moreso Joey than Leo) and head off to their final class of the day: Flying. It seems that all of the first-years take this one together. A black man about Professor Longbottom's age introduces himself as Coach Thomas, and has them line up in front of a number of slightly worn broomsticks.

"First thing you do: hold out your hand over the broom. Second thing: say up."

Joey follows these instructions. The broom - floats into his hand. Looking around, he's gotten a middle-of-the-road reaction: some kids' brooms leapt into their hands like hungry dogs, some are just rolling lethargically on the ground. Joey decides to be pleased that he got it to work in the first place.