Yes, its a mandatory class.

One way or the other, you are going to have to go to Defense Against the Dark Arts. You will have to deal with the suspicious looks of the Professor, and the sidelong stares of your classmates. You are not perhaps as familiar with the Gaunt family history as you should be, but you do know that the family has had a bit of a history with the Dark Arts. As you brace yourself for DADA reflect on the how pervasive these opinions could be. John Dawlish, who was alright enough, was emotionally distant holding your family's reputation against you, and you doubt that people will be any more tolerant.

The first thing you notice upon entering the classroom is the distinct sickly smell of garlic. Glancing around the room you see cloves of garlic hanging in the corners all around the classroom. On the professor's desk a censer of incense burns in a futile effort to cover the aroma of the garlic. You quickly find your seat, and try to find a way to disappear. You turn and see that Ezra has sat down next to you, and he begins to tell you about his day. You attempt to signal that you don't wish to talk, but he either doesn't know or care what you are trying to signal.

After about five minutes you realize that the Professor is late. You turn to Ezra, and Ezra nods sagely. It seems that Professor Quirrel has a bit of a strange reputation. He is notoriously easy to startle, and seems to think danger lurks around every corner. He apparently started a feud with romanian vampires, hence the garlic. "You know he wants to keep the vampires away, poor sod." says Ezra nodding towards the garlic. "I dunno," you mutter; something was off. "Why else would the daft fool keep all this garlic around?" Ezra laughs.

"I mean, I sure don't know." you shrug "But if he's half as experienced as they say he is, it doesn't really make sense. I mean I don't think garlic really works that way on vampires. At least not by itself. There's a lot of potions that use garlic, and maybe there are some geared towards vampire repellent, but I don't think the smell does more than --" you come to an abrupt halt as the door to the class is flung open.

A figure in a purple robe and turban staggers into class. His pale skin is covered in a cold sweat. "W-w-welcome to D-d-d-efense Against the D-d-dark Arts." he sputtered "I am Professor Q-q-uirrel." He looked like he'd seen a ghost, and he probably had. Moving jerkily over to the desk he pulls out a piece of parchment and begins to go through role, stuttering and sputtering along the way, snapping his head up from the roster periodically as if looking for a monster.

"Marvolo Gaunt." he calls out. You answer the role call, and wonder. The professor's voice sounded almost sharp in contrast to the other names. Were your ears playing tricks on you, or did you have another adversary based purely on your heritage?

For the rest of class Professor Quirell goes over what the class will cover this term, but you can't shake the feeling that he's watching you. Every time he faces the class he makes eye contact, and even when he's looking away you can feel his gaze. Its almost like he has eyes in the back of his head.

After an interminable lecture, the Professor releases class, and you push your way through the throng of students all clamoring for fresh air. Even the musty damp air of the hallways smells preferable to the classroom, as you make your way to the Grand Hall with the rest of the Ravenclaws.

Your first week is over and you find yourself smiling over dinner with your roommates, and you are surprised to find Jennifer sitting with your group. Its over all a very pleasant evening, and you find yourself looking forward to the next week.

The next week proceeds much smoother than the first. For the most part people stop openly gossiping about you, and your classes begin to settle into a rhythm. For the most part you manage to spend your free time perusing the Ravenclaw Common Room library, and you even get in some socializing with your roommates and Jennifer. Weirdly, you don't run into that older girl you met on your first day. The Common room isn't that large, but you must have opposing schedules. You were hoping to get some more time with Cho, but find other ways to distract yourself.

Professor Flitwick approaches the first years one morning at breakfast, and informs you that Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw would share Flying lessons on Thursdays after Potions. Down the table most students seem excited, especially Raj who immediately started talking about how he can't wait until he was old enough to try out for the Quidditch team.

You make eye contact with Jennifer, who seems to be psyching herself up. She turns and says, "People don't get hurt in the first week of flying lessons right?" You smile thinly, feeling your stomach turn. "Yeah I am sure." you say "What's safer than being suspended in the air a hundred feet above the ground, suspended by a fickle piece of enchanted balsa?" Jennifer looks surprised, "Are you afraid of heights? I didn't think it was something that would intimidate you." she says her voice taunting. Swallowing, "I'm not afraid, I just don't trust a temperamental school broom."

She laughs "Oh suuuure. I bet." she gives you an encouraging elbow to the ribs. "Then I bet you'll have no problem showing a muggle-born how its done." She stands up and spins towards the staircase towards the Common Room "I'll catch you in potions, I left something in my room."

Sighing you play with your food on your plate. She was right. It would be fine.

You remember the time you tried to use the old family broom. It was not a great experience, you nearly broke the broom, crashing into the nearby woods. You hurt your leg very badly, if it wasn't Dawlish's day to visit, you aren't sure how you would have made it back. Dawlish's disappointed expression still haunts you. You aren't sure whether it was Dawlish's intervention or your father's deteriorating mental state that caused you to avoid a more severe beating, but the memory is still one of the worst from your childhood. Not that there were really any good memories when it came to your father.

"Hey Marvolo are you coming?" you hear. Looking up you see that your breakfast sits mostly untouched, and Ezra is looking back to you. The Great Hall is nearly empty. "Potions is in just a minute we gotta hurry." Clamoring to your feet you follow Ezra out of the Great Hall and shake the thoughts out of your head.

Jennifer was right, you were 3 years older now, you had to be better at flying, right?