The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom had a slightly stale odor to it after having been shut up for most of the summer, in spite of the half-hearted cleaning attempts Tate attempted. He wasn't a cleaner, and he didn't have time to learn to be one.

He threw open the windows as he entered the classroom, opting instead to spend the first few minutes in the room tracing chalk outlines on the floor. The lines created a sort of flat maze, covering the room from the door to his desk at the front. Tate cleaned his hands on his robes before taking a seat behind the desk.

Class is in session.