Who: Barty Crouch Jr. and Iris Conway
When: Sunday evening
Where: the library
Iris was frustrated beyond belief. She didn't like it when she allowed people to get to her like that, but Franzy Dolohov, as much as she hated to admit it, had gotten under her skin. And she was still fuming about it half an hour later. How was she going to pay attention to her Transfiguration work if all she could think about was smacking that always present smug look off of her face?
She huffed as she stared at her text book, waiting for her tutor to show. It was bad enough that McGonagall had absolutely no faith in her, but she had the "pleasure" of spending time with Barty Crouch every week in hopes that he could jam the nonsense into her skull. It was all Greek to her, though. Nothing in the class had made sense to her since 5th year when she barely scraped by with a passing grade. She looked up at the large clock before sighing once again. He was late...
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