One Day at A Time
Finishing the First Week of Classes
Thankfully, after the 6th years I had only younger students to teach. Granted, there were not many in the school who were older than 6th years, but thinking of it that way made the rest of my classes during the day seem substantially less intimidating. The rest of the day passed only slightly less nerve-wrackingly than my first class, and by dinner time I went to the professor's table in the Great Hall mentally exhausted. I had only managed to hold to a couple of my lesson plans, and I had never seen a single one of the textbooks before, which meant that by the weekend I would have seven books to become well-acquainted with. And here I thought I was the one who was supposed to be giving the homework.
Professor Sprout cheerfully smiled at me as I sat down for dinner. "Hello m'dear, how did your first day go?"
I weakly smiled back before reaching for some mashed potatoes and replying "It was alright. I have no clue how I'm going to learn all of the students names!" I said, picking the least of my problems to mention, since I didn't want to appear like a particularly negative person. Speaking of negative, I saw a black cape with stringy black hair and a sallow face take the seat directly to my left. I turned more towards my right to face Sprout, figuring that Snape, sitting on my left, would have nothing positive to say about any of my comments.
"Oh, it gets easier" she chuckled. "The more years you're here the less names you have to learn, because then you only have to learn the incoming class's names."
I smiled and turned back towards my mashed potatoes, "Hopefully I'll make it that long. From what I've heard, this position doesn't exactly have a track-record for long-lasting professors."
"No. It doesn't," I heard the silky voice from my left. Damn! And here I was hoping to avoid any conversation with Snape. It's not a conversation if I don't say anything back, I told myself.
Professor Sprout hesitated for a second, and continued "Oh, I'm sure you'll be able to stay as long as you like. You seem like a very competent professor," she smiled again, while cutting her meatloaf.
"Not that that's saying very much considering who's held that position in the past," the loathing voice from my left came again. My mind was mildly taken back. I mean, really, was it possible for him to be more negative?
I decided to ignore him completely and instead turned to Professor Sprout, "So how were your classes?"
"They were very pleasant. It's so wonderful watching students just suck up all of the knowledge to be learned, like a large pot of dry soil being watered!" She couldn't help but excitedly smile while saying this, and despite her age she briefly reminded me of a school girl. "There's one student, Neville Longbottom, I don't know if you've had him yet, who got some more magical plants over the summer that he just couldn't wait to show me, and they were so interesting! He's really such an excellent student."
"Ah, so Longbottom only fails at almost everything, not quite everything" Snape said in his sarcastic, hateful tone of voice that I was starting to think was just his default tone.
"So how did your classes go?" I said turning towards him, unable to restrain myself any longer. "It sounds like they must have not gone very well, if you're in such a negative mood."
"Oh no, they went absolutely smashingly, if you include the absence of Potter and Longbottom," he drawled. I got the feeling that either part or all of his sentence was meant sarcastically, but I couldn't tell which part, or what the actual meaning behind the sentence was, so I just replied with a simple "Ah" and returned my concentration to my mashed potatoes again.
It's going to be a long week, I thought to myself. Or maybe just the meal times.
I was wrong about the first half of that thought, though; the week seemed to whiz along to Friday. I mentally reviewed my class schedule: my 6th year N.E.W.T. class was first, then my 3rd years, followed by one of the two 5th year classes I had to prepare for O.W.L.s., and the day would be finished once I had completed my 2nd year class. So let's get started! I thought to myself somewhat excitedly as I took a seat at the staff table. Snape gave me a sideways glare as always and, as always, I ignored it.
I ate my breakfast quickly and was about to stand up when I noticed Snape was looking at me out of the corner of his eye again. "Yes?" I asked, turning towards him and trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice.
I swore I saw something like suspicion in his eyes but whatever it was quickly became annoyance. "I was simply wondering what you were teaching the students," he said in a smooth voice which held a bit of a condescending tone.
"I'm afraid you'll have to elaborate, I've been teaching every year something different," I replied in a cool tone while forcing myself to meet his eyes.
"But of course," he spoke in a tone which clearly indicated what he thought was painfully obvious. "I meant in general," he hardly elaborated.
"I have been teaching the first and second years basic defensive spells, the third years about dangerous magical creatures, the fourth and fifth years about more powerful curses and jinxes, and the sixth years and seventh years about dueling," I explained in a voice that I made intentionally sound slightly bored.
"I thought you said that you were teaching every year something different," he responded with a rather smug look on his face, like he had just caught a student who was disobeying the rules.
Merlin, was that man being annoying! "In some cases the years are so close together skill-wise it is not worth it to have different curriculums. This is due, of course, to the rather disconnected teachers, though, and thus is out of my control," I explained in a cool tone, once again, trying to keep my anger and annoyance under control.
"I do hope that you're not planning to stay on those general units all year. Students can only focus on any one topic for very long before their performance peaks and then declines," he condescended, apparently oblivious to the annoyed tone of my voice.
"Now if you'll excuse me," I stood up, pretending to have not heard his criticism of my teaching style, "I have a class that will be starting soon. Good day," I finished in a somewhat icy tone, still managing to show some respect.
I walked quickly through the long hallways that led to my classroom, trying desperately to keep my anger under control. By the time I had entered my classroom I was in a sufficiently pleasant mood and wondering whether the students would have thought to practice any spells before the start of today's class. Once the period had officially begun, I told them to put their text books away and follow me outside.
Upon our first step outside of Hogwarts I savored a deep breath of the fresh morning air: one couldn't get sweet country air like this in the city. "Alright class, today we were going to be working on a charm that not only shields the caster, but also reflects any spells back to the opponent," and we're outside because who knows what the reflected spells might do to the interior of a classroom I silently added. "The incantation is Pondero and to cast it you use a sharp jabbing motion followed by a sudden movement upwards" I explained while mimicking the movement with my wand. The class started mouthing it silently to themselves and moving their wands slightly. "We're going to split into dueling pairs, but first make sure you can cast the charm without the pressure of a spell coming your way." The students started awkwardly swishing their wands and I walked around correcting wand angles, pronunciations, and giving examples. This was my strong point, developed from years of tutoring: helping individual students. Finally I saw weak reflecting shields start to appear and then stronger ones. "When you feel confident you can pair up," I yelled out. Harry Potter and one of the Weasleys (I had forgotten his name again) immediately faced each other and started practicing.
"I think your angle should be a bit more like this," I said, approaching Harry from the side with the intention of tilting his wand a bit more upward, but Weasley, apparently unaware that I was about to pause the duel had already cast his spell. It hit Harry in the arm and painful looking boils started appearing, the patch quickly spreading and individual boils quickly becoming larger.
"Oh, Merlin! I'm so sorry, mate, I thought you were ready!" Weasley nervously exclaimed, a look of horror on his face at having injured his friend.
"It's okay, Ron, I know you didn't mean to hurt me," Harry replied with reassuring smile on his face.
"Here, let me see," I said, gesturing towards Harry arm, while mentally trying to cram Ron's name into my long-term memory. I casted the counter-hex but it only slowed the spread and enlargement of the boils. "Hm, that's not helping as much as I hoped. I think I'm going to have to take you to Madame Pomfrey. The hex was very well cast," I said half smiling at Ron, who looked away, embarrassed. "Pair-up with somebody else, I'll be back briefly."
Harry and I started the walk to the sick ward and an awkward silence reigned between us for a couple of minutes. It occurred to me that I didn't really need to go with him, but it seemed like the polite thing to do. I was simultaneously trying to think up of topics of conversation, but he actually spoke before I did.
"So did you go to Hogwarts, too?"
"I did, as a matter of fact," I replied, happy that the silence was finally broken. "I think it's the best magic school in Britain."
His face broke into a smile as he looked around the hall we were walking through. "It's pretty great. What house were you in?" he asked after a slight pause, as though that was the best topic he could come up with after his first question.
"Slytherin," I cheerfully replied, but I saw his eyebrows raise and a slight look of shock cross his face before he quickly regained his composure. "I know, historically Gryffindor and Slytherin aren't exactly the most friendly houses to each other."
"Yeah…" Harry trailed off. He seemed to be thinking and then he said "It's just you don't seem very much like a Slytherin," he added with a nervous smile.
I laughed. "Not all Slytherin's are bad, or identical. It seems a few Slytherins with strong personalities set the perception of the entire house."
"Yeah, I guess so," Harry replied with a slight grin, which quickly vanished as Snape passed us in the halls. Snape's black eyes quickly flickered from Harry's wounded arm to me and back again, but he continued on his way without a word.
We arrived at the sick ward quickly afterwards and as soon as Madame Pomfrey saw Harry Potter a look of worry appeared on her face. "Oh no, don't tell me, what have you been doing now? It's only the first week of school!"
"Just a boil hex" he replied, holding out his arm. "Professor Colburn tried a counter hex but it didn't do much."
"Oh, no, it wouldn't. I have some cream that will help, though. Follow me," Madame Pomfrey said, turning towards the back of the room.
"I'm going to head back to the class now, Harry, if that's alright with you" I said, feeling that my job was done.
Class finished shortly after I got back, and happily it did so with no further injuries. After the other students had started walking back to the castle, two students walked up to me: Hermione and…and…damn it, I had forgotten his name again! Roland? Ron? Robert? Clearly I had not shoved it into my long-term memory hard enough.
"Is Harry going to be alright?" the red-haired boy asked nervously.
"Oh, I'm sure he is. Madame Pomfrey didn't seem concerned at all, just said that she had some cream that she would put on it."
The boy heaved a sigh of relief while Hermione stepped forward a bit more, holding the text book to her chest, and posed her question "Is there anything in the book you'd like us to read over the weekend?"
"No, I don't think so" I replied attempting to look pensive, even though I had no clue what the book even had. Then a thought occurred to me. "Actually, can I see that book for a minute?" She held it out and I took it. The cover was a dark green and on it was simply written: "Learning to Defend Yourself Against the Dark Arts: Advanced Level." "Actually, would it be okay if I borrowed this over the weekend? I'll give it back on Monday," I hastily added.
Hermione looked elated to have a professor ask her such a question. "O-of course!" she squeaked and she and Weasley quickly walked away, Hermione excitedly whispering rapid sentences to the teenage boy.
That evening I went to the professor's lounge to start reading the text books for the course I was teaching. Out of the seven years taught at Hogwarts, I only had the text books for two of them—the 6th year's, and the 3rd year's. I hadn't had the opportunity or the nerves to ask anybody in my other classes. When I opened the door, I noticed that Professor Snape was the only person in the lounge; his eyes flickered in my direction and then coldly returned to the book he was reading. Why did I seem to be running into that unpleasant man everywhere!
Without acknowledging his presence, I flopped down onto one side of an overstuffed blue couch that was on the opposite wall from Snape. The room was a large, perfect square, with a fire pit in the middle that crackled merrily and various couches and chairs of different colors lining the walls at different angles to each other. I had brought both text books with me, and I set the 6th year's one down before cracking the 3rd year's one open to the table of contents. Hmm, this one seems to have a large section on dark magical creatures, that's good, considering that's what I started teaching them. I don't know if it's a year's worth of material, though. Anyway, they probably learn about dark magical creatures a bit if they're taking Care of Magical Creature. Or does that deal more with pet-like creatures? I ought to ask the professor what he covers. Who's the professor again? I think it's the groundkeeper, is Hagrid his name? I'm so bad with names, I still can't remember that poor Weasley boy's name is, not to mention the other students, and--
"So did Potter die en route to the sick ward or did his own over-confidence and incompetence only lead to temporary injury?"
"Uh," I replied oh-so-eloquently to Snape's sudden question. His voice had its normal acidic tone and I wasn't quite sure what to say. "Actually we were practicing a reflecting shield charm in class and when I was commenting on Harry's wand angle, um, what's-his-name, um, his red-haired friend, accidently hit him with the hex." Mentally I was cringing. I was sure that was more detail than Snape cared about. That combined with my poor timing in the class, and my inability to recall Weasley's name were all surefire targets for Snape's criticism.
"Ron" came his scornful voice.
"Huh?"
"That's Weasley's first name."
"Oh, uh, yeah, that sounds right," I stammered, rather surprised that Snape had not yet started directly critiquing me.
"Well, if the hex was cast by Weasley than it couldn't have been that damaging," he said, reverting to his normal criticism.
"I think Harry'll be fine," I replied coldly, ignoring his insult towards Ron.
I returned to my book, but I didn't concentrate on it very hard. The back of my mind couldn't help but wonder if that scornful question was Snape's way of showing that he cared about his students.
...
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Erm, obviously.
A/N: So I was looking through my computer recently, and I found a bunch of chapters I had written and never uploaded, so here they are! Reviews, constructive criticism, etc. are greatly appreciated!