Ron came out into the bright sunlight and took a deep breath. The dungeons had been stifling and cold and dank, and basically depressing as he'd finished up his first class of the day, Potions. He was just bunk at it, he knew, and he had paused at the doors to look about for Hermione. She was not behind him, and he thought she might have stayed to ask the professor a question. Ron couldn't wait to get out of there, almost bolting in his agitation to breath in fresh, clean air. He moved out into the light more, stood there indecisive. He felt like he should at least go back down the hall and wait for her. That was his habit. But the call to brief freedom was too much and he moved out, towards an empty bench and sat down, his bag thumping to the ground.
The first day and we have a scroll's length of homework, he thought dejectedly, and leaned back, feeling the sun on his face. He turned his thoughts to that sun and that crisp air, and he pondered if he'd have time in the afternoon to get his broom out and go for a fly about. Snape's class was certainly not the way he'd wanted to start his morning off, the first one back but there wasn't much choice. The man had not changed in the last five years; a summer off hadn't done anything to the sour professor's disposition.
Ron glanced about the courtyard, looking for fellow Gryffs but they were sadly lacking. A couple of girls sat not to far from him, in some deep conversation, and since there was nothing else to watch, he watched them for a moment. He idly compared them to his sister, and then to Hermione, and he thought he heard them mention arthimancy; he thought Hermione had that class as well. Where is she? he wondered to himself idly as he continued to watch them, and then glace away but turn back to see what they were doing.