Most of the students watched the teacher, eyes still dimmed by stress and sleep deficiency, while the others were quietly gathering their ingredients for the class. The scent of primrose percolated the air as the students prepared their flasks and the lesson’s supplies.
The quiet calm of of the early morning was disrupted as glass rattled and cracked. One pair of unfortunate students had mixed too much dove tail with black powder.
The teacher rolled her eyes, “Remember , we don’t mix ingredients until I say so.” She glanced meaningfully in the direction of the two. The bubbling and rank as a pig-in-the-mud smelling mixture continued to boil over.
Just as the teacher was finally about to begin. Another student burst through the door, “Professor!”
She glanced over at the late comer with the intensity of a crouching tigress.
The student gulped, visibly, “I’m.. sorry I’m late.” he stuttered as he practically ran to his seat.
She moved to the board, ready again when another student fell off their stool, dosing off.
“Enough!” She roared, lighting flashed from her fingertips, arching toward the board. The professor had had it with this class.
The class bolted upright as if the electricity had touched them instead.
“We are going to begin. No more sleeping.” The professor turned to the board, scowling at the black burns along its formerly smooth green surface.