First Impressions
When she first stepped through the double doors to Salazar Hall, Hermione Granger couldn't help but be mesmerized by the paintings on the corridor leading from Godric Hall to what she referred to as “the Art Dungeon." Before stopping to admire the paintings, she had come upon a small almost enclosed area with two art studio rooms, a supply closet with the Studio Administrator's contact card taped on it, and a door marked “Kiln Room.” Both studio rooms were dark and their doors were locked, or else she would definitely have gone into both to explore. She knew the one on the right would be her Art Theory classroom, so she’d be able to see it in about 30 minutes.
Hermione had been excited about this area ever since she discovered the small college she'd decided on transferring to had an art program. It was simply a minor, she understood that she wouldn't be experiencing it for her main degree, but just the understanding that she'd finally be opened up to the world of traditional art was satisfying enough. She remembered her transfer advisor had told her to seek out Professor Lupin, the head of the art department, who would likely be her professor for her first art class, but left Hermione with no images with which she could recognize him.
When going back, she took extra time to stare at the paintings, admiring the colorful abstractions. There were some with colorful designs that looked like geometric figures and others that appeared to be abstracted landscapes.
The second she stepped to turn back, she found herself face to chest with a much taller suited man with dark brown hair cut short and well-trimmed and greying facial hair lining the lower half of his face. He immediately stepped back, stared at her, perhaps as if she was simply a careless child, and went on his way. Hermione noticed his strides were short and quick, and he was soon completely out of sight.
He looked like a Professor. Middle-aged, suited, dark, mysterious. Visually handsome in a grouchy old silver fox kind of way. Perhaps only concerned with his work. Certainly not concerned with a random student he almost ran into. No “hi,” no “sorry,” no mention of what had transpired. Just a stare… and then gone. Strange, Hermione thought. Strange and rude. She hoped to God that he wouldn’t be one of her professors this semester, because she had made her mind up right then and there that she would not like such a person to teach her. As important as she deemed education, she also understood that she'd never be able to learn from an absolute asshole like that.
As much as she wanted to go back to her classroom, she figured she wouldn't be able to go in until it was unlocked. So she headed over to the bookcase she had seen in the Godric Hall Common Room, and until 8:50 she read a book on professional communication. At 8:50 she neatly slid the book back on the shelf and headed towards her Art Theory classroom, the room marked Studio 2.
When Hermione finally got to see the well-lit studio, she was instantly enamored by the blank canvases already set up on easels. She wondered if these were for her class, whether she was actually going to get to create art. The class was after all called Art Theory and Practice. She noticed a male student already sitting there on the C-shaped arrangement of three long tables, indicating that she wasn't the first student to arrive. After admiring the layout of the studio, she took her place on a purple chair right in the middle of the table arrangement. There were multiple laminated sheets with the traditional color wheel lining the top of the table arrangement, which alternated with laminated sheets listing classes in the Art Minor. Hermione made a mental note to register for every single one of those classes in her time in the University.
About 8 minutes after the clock struck 9:00, she saw him: the tall suited man from the hall. He entered the room and swiftly headed to the podium at the front of the room. Hermione could have fainted there and then if she were more dramatic. She did not of course, it would have been highly embarrassing in front of so many students, but she did let out a gasp she hoped was not audible. It seems he caught her look and gasp of surprise because he looked at her for a second. Right at her, eye to eye. She could have missed it; it was that quick. She wanted so badly to glare at him as if to say “You give me the weirdest stare in the hall, you don't say anything to me after almost running into me, you come in 8 minutes after class is supposed to have started, and you expect me to be the kind of student who accepts you as a professor?? Yeah… not likely.” But she figured it wouldn't have made any difference. She was stuck in a class she had to take for the Art Minor with a professor she had to bear with for the rest of the semester. All she could do was hope he wasn't actually as severe as he felt, or she'd be having a bad time.