Rubbing a sore spot on her forehead, Daphne Hopton entered the classroom not giving the empty blackboard a second thought. It was until she collided with a floating ink with her cheek that she stopped and blinked. There were dozens of ink bottles randomly set up on the classroom, even some hanging from the ceiling adhered to strings rather ominously like magical fly sticky traps.

"Sir," greeted Daphne simply, glancing down at the Professors swinging feet.

He was peculiar as usual, she thought as she took a seat.