The wizards turned to walk to their next lesson, most with new-found friends and awestruck expressions.

Many of the students had already forgotten about the recent event with Amber, and their new worry revolved around what they would be learning in literature. Most 'classic novels' in the muggle world had never been heard of in the wizarding one.

Even though they as people lived together in the same country, their cultures couldn't be any more different. Harry had never been a big reader, and last time he had been in a muggle school he had been too young to read high school level classic books. So now even he was beginning to feel panic settle in as they walked into the classroom.

The room, unlike the other ones, was slightly larger and held more chairs. It had a warm feeling inside; the heat was turned up enough so that some students were able to remove their jackets. The chairs where slightly newer than the ones from the other classrooms they had glanced into. There was also the fresh smell of coffee in the room, which they soon spotted from a nearby coffee maker next to the teachers tables.

The wizards looked around in wonderment as to why this classroom looked so much more well-kept than the others.

As if reading their minds Linda answered, "This is Mr. Short's class room. He's the principal's favorite teacher since he's the only one who managed to raise the student's reading and history average to twice its original expectation. He also teaches at the university after school." She smiled at Mike and Darren, obviously a part of some inside joke.

"Sounds like a strict guy," Ron stated.

"Actually," Darren laughed, "he's everyone's favorite teacher. No one even calls him Mr. Short, we call him Shorty."

Hermione giggled.

"Yeah" Mike rolled his eyes "the name just stuck. Although, if the principal walks in, be sure to address him as Mr. Short," he winked.

The students took their seats, and were greeted by a tall, grey haired man. He had an old, but sharp-looking face. Even though they said he wasn't strict, it was like with professor Snape, you knew not to get on his bad side, (except that with Snape, that was his onlyside).

"Good morning class." He greeted. "For those of you who don't know it, my name is Mr. Short, and I am your literature teacher."

"I, unlike some literature teachers, do not focus only on books, but on some movies as well. For the last couple of weeks we have been reading the book 'The Devil's Arithmetic,' but since the new students weren't here to read it with us, I will show all of you the movie for this week and today will only be a class discussion."

"Have any of you new students read that book by any chance?" Mr. Short inquired.

As expected, Hermione's hand was the only one to go up.

Mr. Short gave her an approving look.

"Your name?" he asked her.

"Hermione, Hermione Granger," she said, her eyes beaming at her obvious success of impressing the teacher with her knowledge.

"Well Hermione, do you mind telling the new students what the book is about?"

Hermione looked at the teacher, too shy to look at the entire class.

"It's about the Holocaust," she said.

The dumb-found expressions on the wizards' faces said it all, as hard as they tried to cover them with indifferent ones, but it was too late.

The teacher looked just as shocked as the rest of the muggles with the discovery.

"Have any of you heard of the holocaust before?" he asked.

When no one answered, he looked at a loss of what to do.

Most of the wizards knew nothing of historical events or wars that happened in the muggle world. Even those who had heard of the Holocaust still did not have a clear idea of what it was. Some had heard the phrase being used in comparison of what happened with You-Know-Who.

"Alright...Well then, since we are beginning the activity like this, I have no choice but to give our new exchange students a small assignment before we can watch the movie this week."

He went to his desk, opened the drawers, and pulled out some old-looking papers. He handed them out to the new students one by one.

"By Wednesday, you are to have read this small summary of basic information you need to know about the holocaust. After that, we will watch the movie 'The Devils Arithmetic' and start on some assignments concerning the film."

Harry looked back at the class, spotting the wizards' nervous glances. He also spotted a short, black-haired boy sitting in the back of the class. Harry hadn't noticed him before, but as soon as their eyes met, he felt the knowing stare burn into him.

"He knows," Harry thought to himself. "But...there's no way he could know...how ?"

The class went on, mostly filled with short story activities. Harry knew the short stories weren't hard, but as hard as he tried to concentrate in them, he just couldn't bring his attention to focus on the assignment. He could feel the boy's stare penetrating the back of his head.

When the bell finally rang, Harry began to gather his things, when he felt a piece of crumbled up paper being slipped into his hand. He looked up to meet the back of the short boy's head as he walked out the door.

He opened the paper up nervously, and read six words he had hoped he would never to read or hear considering the events of that morning.

'I know What Happened to Amber.'