Chapter Seven: Too old to learn

Somehow Sirius had been graced with no timetabled lessons to teach on a Monday morning, for which he was grateful. He tried to reason with himself that it was just the way the school's timetable fell, but he suspected that it was more likely that McGonagall remembered all too well Sirius's inability to surface any time before noon the day after the weekend. His Monday would start at lunchtime, and he never managed to make it to Monday morning lessons. Sirius hadn't even been aware that there was a class on the history of magic until it had been listed as an option for his O.W.L exams.


The common room was crowded and far too warm. Sirius sat at the table, staring at the form in front of him listing his O.W.L. options. He'd had weeks to complete it, and now he had been warned by McGonagall in no uncertain terms that if he didn't get it done soon she would have to choose for him. Remus stubbornly refused to tell him what he had chosen in case Sirius picked the same. James had told him the only subject Sirius would actually be interested in would be Sirius-ology, but he'd been dismayed to find it wasn't an option.

He looked down the list of subjects. "James, what's 'History of Magic' about?"

James, who had been engrossed in his latest copy of Quidditch Quarterly, looked up. "Are you joking, Sirius? It's about the history of magic."

"D'you think I'd like it?" His quill hovered over the selection box next to the subject. He had always been interested in what had happened in the past, like the Goblin rebellion and the Warlock wars, and he liked reading about the Witches and Wizards on his chocolate frog cards. He thought he would like to study History of Magic.

"We already take it Sirius. Except you've never managed to make it to a single lesson because it's always on a Monday morning." James informed him.

"Oh." Sirius replied, sounding downhearted. "Best not pick that option then. It might be on a Monday morning next year, too."


He had enjoyed a leisurely lie-in and had sauntered down to the kitchens around eleven o'clock to try and sweet talk a house-elf into making him some toast for his breakfast. They were more than happy to oblige, and Sirius stayed and chatted to them for the remainder of the morning. He left them only when lunch was to be served in the Great Hall. He decided to skip lunch, feeling more than satisfied with the breakfast the house-elves had prepared, and carried an armful of toast that they had sent him off with back to his office. He ran into Filch and his new assistant on his way. It was strange to see Mr Filch barking orders at someone who seemed to be paying attention but Sirius suspected that he was thoroughly enjoying it. Sirius was careful to ensure he dropped some toast crumbs on the newly-scrubbed floor, chuckling to himself as he left the two men to it, with Filch grumbling about the lack of punishment for naughty children in the school, and his assistant grunting perfunctory replies.

He paced the classroom as he waited for his very first class. He realised that he wasn't sure what year they would be, and so he frantically began to search for a timetable that he hoped he'd left on his desk. He hadn't really looked at it much, and with a guilty feeling of dread, he realised he wasn't actually completely sure that he had no timetabled lessons on Monday morning. Well, he reassured himself, it was far too late to do anything now.

A bell rang throughout the castle and Sirius went to prop the classroom door open. Slowly the children filed in, and as he surveyed the sea of eager and completely unknown children, he wondered what an earth he was supposed to teach them. Only now did he begin to regret his complete lack of preparation. He'd had three months in which to at least read a text book. Instead, he decided the best thing to do would be to improvise completely.

"Hello." He began cautiously when the children had settled into their seats. Of all the things Sirius Black had lived through, he never expected to be nervous standing in front of a group of schoolchildren. "I'm the new Defence against the Dark Arts teacher. Professor Boardman. I'm going to teach you how to defend yourself against… well, the dark arts." Merlin, he was making a mess of this. "Who are you?" He gestured around the class, and was met by a sea of confused faces.

"Do you want us to go around the room and introduce ourselves?" One student cautiously asked.

Sirius laughed nervously. "No, no! That would take ages." But it certainly would kill a bit of teaching time, he thought to himself. "I'll get to know you all eventually." He waved his hand dismissively. "Right, so you're third years?" He hesitated a guess. Evidently it was the wrong guess- he heard a few students laugh quietly before he was politely corrected. They were fourth years, he was informed.

"For our first lesson we are going to be learning about…" Well, Sirius wasn't sure. What did these students know already? Was he going to have to teach them the basics? He hunted around in his head for anything he could think of, and dragged out the first thing he came to. "Dementors."

He heard a chorus of confusion chime throughout the class. Dementors had not been an expected topic then. He pointed his wand at the chalkboard and a shaky script began to slowly appear on the black background, writing out the title of the day's lesson. He was going to have to practice that charm, it seemed.

He was disturbed briefly by the clicking of a lock lifting from its rest. The heavy oak door pushed open and a boy sneaked along the back row, hurrying along to an empty seat on the left hand side of the classroom. He dropped his book heavily on the desk and kicked his bag under the bench. "Sorry," He whispered loudly, nodding at the new teacher and throwing him what he hoped was an innocent smile. Sirius was almost glad of the distraction- it had allowed him to covertly scrub his writing from the board and use the chalk by hand to write it out again neatly without the students noticing.

"Right," Sirius began. "Dementors." He pushed up the sleeves of his robes and crossed his arms. He'd seen Remus do that once. Perhaps it looked professorial. "Well, they're not really people, but they're not animals either. They're creatures, I suppose." Sirius frowned at himself. This probably wasn't a great start. "They're really ugly, worse than old Snape," He looked round the class for recognition, but the faces that stared back were blank. Sirius guessed that they hadn't understood his joke. He went to sit against the edge of his desk. "They're the foulest creatures to walk the Earth."

"Please, Sir, what page is it in our books?" A polite voice interrupted from the bench at the front of the class.

"What page? Oh, it's, err…" Sirius had no idea. And how was he even supposed to know? It had been years since he'd actually looked through a Hogwarts text book. He'd been in a war, he'd been incarcerated in Azkaban, he'd been legally declared dead. He'd had a lot on his mind. How was he supposed to know what page it was?! "It's page, err…" he squinted his eyes, pretending to try and remember something he never knew in the first place.

"Didn't you check before the lesson, Sir?"

"Of course I checked," He lied. "What do you think I was doing this morning?!" He picked up his borrowed copy of the text book from behind him on the desk and began to flick slowly through. He tried to scan the page titles looking for anything on 'Dementors'.

"It's page 248." A familiar voice offered from elsewhere in the classroom.

"Yes exactly page 248. Thank you, Moony." Sirius called instinctively in reply. He turned and smiled smugly at the know-it-all sat in the front row. "Page 248." He whispered to her. Perhaps he could somehow find a way to move her to the back of the classroom.


"Mr Black. You have arrived late to my lesson. You have failed to get any parchment or quills out of your bag. You have not even opened your book to the correct page. Would you kindly participate in this lesson, like the rest of your classmates?"

"What page is it in the book?"

"I have already told you. I hope you were not being so inconsiderate to be late, lazy, and apparently unable to listen to your professor?"

"No Sir." Sirius opened the book and flicked slowly though.

"Page 248." A quiet voice whispered beside him.

"Page 248." Sirius repeated loudly, opening the book flat on the desk to the correct page, and smiling smugly at the professor.

"Thank you, Moony." Sirius whispered in reply.


Sirius sat casually back down on the desk in front of the chalkboard in the classroom and opened the book to page 248. Merlin, he thought, he better have the same text book as his students.

"Sir," A hand shot up. It was the girl from the front row- again. Sirius looked at her and smiled politely, motioning for her to continue. "I've read about these before. Is it true that they resemble decaying corpses, they exude cold and draw long, rattling breaths?" She said, sounding as though she had swallowed the text book.

"What's your name?"

"Rosamund, sir. Rosamund Wren."

"You seem to know an awful lot about Dementors, Miss Wren."

She smiled, satisfied with herself. "Well, I have read this chapter in the book before, Sir. And I remember reading something about them last year in a book from the library."

"Wow," Sirius replied, desperately trying to hold back his sarcastic tone. She was only a child, after all. "And here I was thinking it was because you had spent twelve years of your life in Azkaban!"

Her smile swiftly dropped. "What's it got to do with Azkaban?" She asked.

Finally, something Sirius knew better than she did! Thank goodness for all those years he spent at that convict's retreat. "Dementors are the guards of Azkaban, of course."

"Not anymore, Sir. It says in the book that they don't guard it anymore."

"Does it? Well, it was so long since I was last there, it must have changed. But take my word for it, sixteen years ago, they guarded Azkaban."

"Perhaps you'd be better at teaching History of Magic, Sir." A boy called out from the back, and the rest of the class began to laugh. Sirius frowned. It said something when the students thought he would be better at teaching a class he never even went to at school.

Somehow Sirius struggled through the rest of the lesson, with Rosamund Wren filling the extensive gaps in Sirius's knowledge, and Sirius himself embellishing a few facts to flesh out what he did know. With ten minutes before the end of the lesson, Sirius decided that he had had enough, and let the class pack away early.

"Excuse me?" It was Rosamund. Sirius groaned. She would prove to be a nuisance, he could tell. Rosamund. Rosa-mind-your-own-business. "Professor?" Sirius turned around. "I know we have our set books to read, I've already read mine, and there are books in the library," she rushed in one continuous breath, "but aren't you going to set us any homework? Any essays to write?" The rest of the class grumbled and began to mutter about the class 'know-it-all'. Sirius heard someone whisper, 'it's our first lesson!', and the boy beside Rosamund rolled his eyes.

"Homework?!" The thought repulsed Sirius. He'd barely done any homework whilst he was a student. It seemed rather hypocritical to set his class any. "No," He told her honestly. "I wasn't really thinking about doing that."

"But why not?" She replied incredulously, somewhat annoyed at Sirius. "It will help us demonstrate what we've learnt in class! And it's good practice for our examinations!"

Sirius crossed his arms, pouting like a stubborn child. "I don't want to have to mark it all." Why was he having to justify himself to a fourteen year old?! He could do what he liked- as teacher, he had earned it.

She huffed at her professor's blasé attitude towards her schooling, collected her books together and strutted out of the classroom, her nose stuck up into the air. Sirius wondered if he should be bothered by it, but he wasn't. He supposed if he'd annoyed her so much, perhaps she would make a complaint, and then he'd be asked to leave. Declared unfit to impart his wisdom on the next generation of witches and wizards.

The rest of the class, however, seemed to have a different opinion. Sniggering snaked around the classroom, and a couple of the more self-assured students began to whoop and clap. They passed by his desk as they left the classroom. "Nice one, Sir." Said one. "Cheers!" Said another. A couple of them stuck their thumbs up. One even went as far as giving Sirius a high five.

It hadn't been a great first lesson. In fact, if Sirius hadn't been able to check the textbook he's sure he wouldn't have remembered anything about the subject. And he hadn't even known what page in the textbook it was! Thank goodness for Moony. He always knew these things.