Well, I know we're on the Fourth Floor, because we're level with the pennants on the Astronomy Tower, so that would make this – Merlin's Beard! Of course, the old Mythology Classroom. You know, I remember when old Dogmeat Purbright took that wax model of a minotaur and – well, let's just say we were cleaning out the Dungeons for a month after that, and I don't think Professor Kettleburn ever got full feeling back in his right hand. Of course, the Professor's Office was right next door, still is, by the looks of things, and we could sometimes sneak out while he was droning on about how to distinguish a Naiad from a Pleiad, and pile all his books up against the inside of his door. Oh, they made a lovely crash! Happy, happy days! Naturally, back then it was a regime designed to toughen you up. Make real wand wielders out of you. I mean, would you look at the pampered luxury of that bathroom! I shall have to speak to the Senior Undersecretary about the exact disbursement of Hogwarts budget.
Well, well, back on the Fourth. That should put . . .Oh, yes, there it is. The Rubbish Binns, old Professor Binns' study, the ghost who taught History of Magic, the only thing drier and dustier than he was. I reckon they never took much to that subject here, anyway, I mean, his students' OWL pass rates were abysmal. Not that I didn't manage an 'E' myself, of course, but that was purely through my own graft, no thanks to old Rubbish. Of course his tutorials were an absolute doddle to get out of, but the only other thing down this end was the Restricted Section of the Library, and the saints preserve you if Old Pinched caught you anywhere near her best beloved books without permission signed in triplicate by the Minister himself. Speaking of which, there was a nifty little broom cupboard just off to the . . Yes, there it is. So, presuming you could get one of the girls to sneak out too, Old Binns was responsible for a lot more learning than he ever knew.
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