The Death of Professor Binns

The Death of Professor Binns

March 13, 1969

It was one of those late winter days that just seemed to serve the purpose of annoying and/or freezing people. It certainly hadn't helped when Professor Clinch had forbidden the Gryffindor third years from running back to their dorms to fetch layered clothing. Arthur Weasley was one of those unfortunate ones who had been unable to retrieve warmer clothing due to Clinch's strict code. His teeth chattered as he stirred his shrinking potion bitterly, wondering what a nice, well-aimed Furnunculus Curse would do to Clinch. The Potions Master he was so dearly thinking of awarded Heather Davies a detention for suggesting that the class should brew Pepperup Potion, which then caused the Slytherins in their class to sneer at the girl while Clinch's back was turned. Lucius Malfoy's face was especially prominent in the horde of Slytherins as his face has the infamous Malfoy leer permanently plastered upon it. Yet, one glare from Arthur caused his mind to dart back to his work, probably reminded by last week's fight, which was marked by an ugly bruise on his shoulder. The rest of the class went on fairly... well, if the whole fiasco caused by a Slytherin "accidentally" sprinkling John Longbottom with some erroneous Shrinking Potion was disregarded.

"History of Magic next!" chirped Molly Donegan as she head down the Charms corridor with her fellow Gryffindors.

"Why are you so happy about that?" queried Patrick Adams, one of many who utilized their next class as a means of getting some shut-eye.

"Why shouldn't I be happy?"

"Well, we're going to History of Magic with Binns and his boring speeches about goblin rebellions and the Wizard's Council and all that boring stuff. He can't even make it interesting for us!"

"Well, maybe if you listened, you would become more interested."

"Well maybe we're all too sleepy by the time he's said five words to listen to such waffle!" Patrick argued. The rest of the Gryffindors nodded approvingly, especially Shiva Patil, who was carrying a miniature pillow under his arm, as he mumbled, "Sleep..."

The Gryffindors walked in and found their Ravenclaw counterparts already present, even though Professor Binns was not. Heather and Molly immediately headed over to their Ravenclaw friends and started chattering about the usually topics; Boys ("He is so adorable!"- "No way! Are you mad?"), school gossip ("I heard that Clinch's getting close to McClintock!"- "You're kidding!"), and oddly, frogs ("Mine is cute and blue!"- "No, mine's color-changing!"-"Mine's jeweled!"). This was no different than any other day until Binns walked in-or more specifically-wafted into the boisterous classroom.

"Hello class," he murmured in the voice that remained unchanged. However, the same could not have been said for his body. In place of a wizarding robe that was always scented slightly with dust was a transparent one through which Arthur could see the eerie chalkboard. Everyone, even Patrick, who was usually fast asleep two minutes into the lesson, was staring wide-eyed at their teacher, who was now officially a member of the Spirit Division-or to put it simply- Binns had died and was now a ghost. Of course there were some difficulties involved during that class. Binns attempted picking up his notes many times before abandoning them and reciting the lesson from memory, which was pretty strong for a dead teacher. Arthur sat in his seat and closed his jaw, which had been scraping the floor a minute earlier. He raised his hand and patiently waited for Binns to notice him.

"...and then Emeric the Evil kidnapped one of the members of the Wizard's Council, which resulted in... yes... Mr. ... er... Wanly?"

"It's Weasley, sir. I just want to know if you're feeling alright today."

There were a few sniggers from the rest of the class. Binns knitted his ethereal eyebrows into a frown.

"Mr. Wesley... thank you for your consideration but I need to get on with this lesson. Now where was I? Oh yes... the results of that horrible action resulted in the insecurity of the rest of the members of the Council as well as a muggle sighting of a Hebridean Black, which... What do you want now, Mr. Wenny?"

"Sir, are you sure? Did you feel... odd this morning?"

"Well, now that you mention it, I had a spot of trouble getting the staff room door to open, and a cat looked at me funny... but nothing else..."

"Sir... have you ever considered... retirement?" asked Molly meekly.

"Now we really must get on with this lesson."

The class quietly took notes for the rest of class, not preferring to invoke the wrath of a ghost in denial. However, there was a slight bit of problem at the end of class.

"Class! Please hand in your homework!" Binns announced. Arthur, being in a hurry to get out of that class, quickly picked up his books and started out the door.

"Mr. Wently!" the professor shouted at him.

"Er... yes, sir?"

"I would like to have your homework," Binns muttered, outstretching his transparent hand. Arthur gulped and pried out a scroll from his bag.

"I'm waiting!" said Binns impatiently.

"Er, sir? Can I just... um... place it on the desk and go?"

"Fine!" Binns barked bitterly. Arthur did so and scurried out the door. The rest of the class followed his lead and placed their papers on the counter before escaping the dreary atmosphere of History of Magic. Professor Binns sighed and made a sound in his spectral throat that resembled a muggle chain saw being started up. He attempted to pick up the heap of scrolls on his desk but his ghostly hands just slipped through it.

"I'm getting a bit disconnected lately," he muttered.