After years without incident, it seems the curse against the Hogwarts Dark Arts professors is back--the last two having left under strange circumstances. The class is waiting with a curious apprehension for their new instructor when, from behind the heavy oaken door, a faint "yee boi" sounds.
The man walked into the room from a long marble I inlayed corridor, and reverberations of his heavy footsteps continued to echo through the corridor until they dissipated, along with the previous "yee boi". The man, once in the room, closed the door, then tip toed down the aisle, passing and paying no mind to the children staring at him with concern, except Harry.
The man suddenly stopped tip toeing, and bent over, moving like a marrionette, putting himself face to face with the Known Wiz Kid of Hogwarts, defeater of the soul eaters and caster of many magic spells.
The man kept his face a mere few inches from Harry's, and this made Harry very uncomfortable; this effect spread through the entire class. Many students began to scratch themselves, hit with nervous hives.
The man was making an "O" shape with his crusty lips, and his eyes were filled with a burning comical insanity. The man stared into the whites of Harry's eyes. Harry looked at the floor, with mouth slightly ajar in the terribly uncomfortable situation; his face was flushed red.
In a deep, slow, airy, vocally fried howl the man let out yet another "yee boi", this time directly into Harry's face. Harry was extremely disturbed by the smell of the man's breath; it had the sour creamy smell of week old milk. Harry continued to look at the floor, but the man then resumed his standing position, again as if he was being controlled by wire, and took long arching steps to the open space designated only for teachers. The man had his back facing towards the class. He stood very still, again almost like a machine of some sort.
"Sir, are you our new teacher?" Said a frumpy ginger British girl in the front row.
The man stood completely still for exactly ten seconds.
The man's neck then made an ever so slight movement, and with it a crack reverberated through the room. He turned around very slowly, as if made of stone, and in a mocking British accent he yelled, "Awre yew ower knewe teachah?!"
The man then immediately blew a copious amount of snot from his nose and again stood still, surveying the now empty class with snot slowly cascading over his smirking face.
Only one student remained, Harry Himself.
"Now that we're alone..." the man said softly, and wiped his wand in a motion Harry had never seen before.
"Decratama Miata!" Yelled the man, and a bright red, smooth, and small vehicle fell from no where and broke through one of the student tables. The man then unnecessarily straddled the car and climbed over the hood into the drivers seat. He looked at Harry from the driver's seat and squinted. With a smug face he asked Harry, "are you ready to go on an adventure?"
The passenger side door then magically popped open, beckoning Harry. How could Harry refuse such a strange offer from such a strange man? Harry got in and the car took to the sky.
They were soaring above the land at a thousand miles per hour, and the man turned to Harry with a concerned look on his face.
"Wait, what day is it?" Asked the man.
"Monday." Replied Harry.
"OK get out."