<div class="floatright">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/19/59/d5/1959d5a89df588d70e329492b8e6ff84.jpg)</div>The rain offered a rhythmic percussion against the windows to Professor Merryweather's classroom, gentle as a caress and with a slow but permeating beat.  She kept the room bright enough to see by, allowing all of the students to come in and acquaint themselves as she wrote several things upon the chalkboard:<br/><br/><em><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;">Professor Merryweather<br/><br/>Alchemy<br/>Artifice<br/>Sorcery<br/>Summoning<br/>Thaumaturgy</span></em><br/><br/>Her demeanor was calm, composed, peaceful, but she watched the students for a few moments whenever anyone came in, memorizing faces.  It didn't take her long to move to her laptop, checking notes against her listed curriculum and giving plenty of time before seating arrangements.  Students who came early would have plenty of opportunity, but she intended to start right on the dot as the bell rang.<br/>