silence is golden; 7th years

[JONATHAN MARTIN QUINN]

Term had begun, the sorting hat's ceremony was over, the students had received their schedules and today would be the first day's lessons and lucky for him he was going to teach the first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. He had no idea how it had worked out this way, perhaps Lily had made some sort of bargain with the headmaster to get out of having the first lesson but however she had done it he really wished she hadn't. He had never taught a class before and was starting to worry about what the lesson would be like; would they listen to him? Would they respect him and the knowledge he could bring them? Or would they look upon his face and see a freak and refuse to listen to him? It would probably see silly to someone on the outside to see Jonathan worrying over such small things but it was out of his control. He knew his stuff and wanted to equip the students with his knowledge so that they would be better prepared for the cruelty of the world outside of the safe walls of Hogwarts; he wanted to show people how dangerous it was out there and deter them away from joining Voldemort and his followers. But he had no idea how to go about doing that and he was filled with a sense of unease at the thought of failing.

Jonathan was no fool he knew it would be hard, teaching wasn't an easy thing to do after all. He remembered watching his professors when he was at Hogwarts ranting on at the class to be quiet and to pay attention. He of course had always longed to listen and had hung onto their every word; soaking up the lessons like a sponge. But he had seen back then that not everyone was like him and he doubted that the world had changed enough to cause students to just sit quietly and soak it all in. If they did admittedly he'd be a little worried, a subject like this required it to be hands on; to be constantly tested to ensure that they understood and knew what he was talking about. He didn't want them to just sit and take notes about how to perform a spell against a grindalow or a gnome he wanted them to experience it and to truly learn what it meant to be in a dangerous position and defend yourself. Otherwise what was the point of him even coming here to teach them?

Walking away from the window Jonathan began to make his way to the blackboard at the front of the class, he was unsure as to what they had learned in previous years from the past defence against the dark arts teachers and he didn't really want to search and read through countless records to find out what class had learnt what and what year things had been taught. Instead he was going to start from the most logical position and begin teaching his students about using spells without speaking them. It was a very useful skill and one he had used often when searching for and fighting dark wizards and something he used in his every day life. Being able to get one up on your opponent by using a spell that they didn't know was coming was something that could be the difference between you living and you dying. If you constantly said and shouted every spell you were using and going to use the enemy would know what was coming and would be able to defend themselves. The less you said the better and although it wasn't an easy skill to learn it was an important one and Jonathan made the conscious decision to not move the lessons on until every one of his sixth and seventh year students could do just that. He didn't care if they got bored with the lessons being the same with him; they could get something different with Lily but with him it would be the same until they could at least perform four unspoken spells; once they had achieved that then he would be satisfied and move it on to something more advanced.

Taking out his wand he conjured the table and chairs and began to move them about to create a suitable amount of space for them to practice spells on one another. He was going to start them off small and get them to use spells like Expelliarmus and Protecto; and if certain students managed that he would even consider allowing them to use spells like the levitation spell or Petrificus Totalus the body binding spell. Either way he wanted to ensure that his students didn't try and kill one another whilst in his lesson. He wasn't the sort of person to make solid judgements or jump to conclusions but he remembered what certain Slytherins had been like during his time at Hogwarts and he didn't doubt that their children would be the same and the last thing he wanted was to give those said students a chance to curse their fellow students. As unfair as it may appear to them he would be keeping an eye on the students who caused him some concern or caught his attention. He had been hired to help protect the students and that is what he intended to do even if that did mean making some students feel as if he were 'picking' on them. He knew he shouldn't punish the students for their parent's crimes but some of the parent's of the Slytherins were well known Death Eaters of had been Death Eaters and Jonathan didn't believe that the apple fell far from the tree. Call him old fashioned and a little single minded if you want but Jonathan believed it down to the point and after years in the ministry as an auror he wasn't about to change his views and opinions just because he was a teacher.

Checking the time he noticed that lessons would be starting any minute now and he turned to the blackboard and wrote the lesson's plan on to give the students an idea f what today's lesson would entail. He was a man who liked to have things in an organised manner and his students would learn sooner or later not to try and disorganise what he had planned. He could be a very impatient man and he wasn't going to put up with people trying to mess him around; and that would include lateness. He didn't care how little they were late, if they were late they were late. Students at this age should of course know better and he wouldn't take any excuses. If they were late they would be disciplined for it and he wouldn't recap the lesson just for them; if they weren't here on time then they would miss out on certain bit of information not only for the day's lesson but also vital life skills. So it would be interesting to see how his first lesson planned out. Sitting down at his desk he put his wand down and faced the door, awaiting to see who would be his first 'eager' student.

TAG - 7th years
WORDS - 1,208
NOTES - this is set BEFORE the basilisk's first attack
TUNES - devil in a midnight mass , billy talent.
CREDIT - template by MUNZTAR * of caution 2.0

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[HARLEEN ELIZABETH FLIDAIS]

when the devil wants to dance with you ,
YOU BETTER SAY NEVER

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‘You can’t tell anyone what happened,’ she chided herself,’you just have to be ready next time.’ Ready, ready to defend herself, it was days like these that made Harleen wonder if there’d ever be a day when she felt ready to defend herself. So much theory faded when the need came to put it into practice, and the world at large carried on much faster than the carefully set and organized world of the classroom. There was no time set aside to think of this or that spell before one plunged themselves into battle, no feeling of narrowly avoiding a fate worse than death, of legs pumping, and muscles tensing, and heart hammering. And the fear, there was nothing quite like it. A duel in the classroom was meant to be simulated, realistic enough but tame overall. A duel in the real world, outside the walls of Hogwarts was something else entirely, it couldn’t help but be.

Unbidden, the image of a man came to her. It’s best to forget about it. But she remembered running. He could have killed her, but she remembered escaping. The feeling of overwhelming relief and later, the sinking realization that she’d been utterly unprepared, that he’d let her go, likely on a whim. Her fists clenched at her sides. She would show him boring. One day, one day she’d find him and she’d be prepared, just as one day she would find her father and bring him to justice. All she needed was training, more training, something more realistic, something a tad more dangerous. She didn’t want to have to think about which spell she would cast when, she wanted the motions of defense to be fluid, instinctual, as they ought to be if one wished to survive in the world at large. In this day and age, with all that was going on outside the safety of the castle walls, Harleen had no intention of allowing herself to fall short of her true potential, of allowing herself to fall into the trap of believing that what was learned in the classroom, what presented itself as nothing more than theoretical knowledge without the proper practice, would be able to preserve her life in any way shape or form. She hungered for greater knowledge, yes, but knowledge with practice now seemed moot on some level.

’Breathe, damn it, stop pacing and breathe!’ Harleen glanced at the little hourglass trickling away the time until her next class as she continued to pace back and forth across the room. She had defense against the dark arts in a few minutes. She had to calm down. Hopping up onto her bed, she swung her bag around beside her and arranged herself until she was sitting cross-legged. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and began to count. 1…2…3… Slowly, she counted until everything faded to the very edges of her perception 4…5…7, until there was nothing but numbers 7..8…9…10. Once she felt that she had sufficiently mastered herself, she opened her eyes and looked around the room. Better.

Looping her bag over her shoulder, she slid off the bed and went over to her desk to collect the appropriate textbooks for her first few classes of the day – Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Potions. She stroked each cover almost lovingly before placing it in her bag. They would continue to provide the theory, but now she needed more, she needed someone who would see her, all pale and fragile in appearance, and look beyond the fact that she looked as though she might break at any moment. She needed someone willing to hurl spell after spell at her, who trusted that she would block them in time even when she didn’t trust herself to do so. The act of defending oneself was instinctual. That much she knew, but that did not mean that one could simply leave those instincts to rust, so to speak. She couldn’t expect to sit around in dusty classrooms hearing but never trying, practicing but never truly doing, and expect that she would suddenly be able to keep herself alive if she ran into a Death Eater.

As she headed down to the first floor for her first class of the day, Harleen promised herself that she’d find someone to teach her all that she wished to know and then some, that she’d prod and pester until someone agreed to work with her outside of class, to hurl spells at her and teach her that which was far beyond the scope of what needed covering in regular classes, someone who understood her need to be prepared, who would honor it.

When she finally reached the classroom door, she hesitated. There were several minutes left before class and she’d hadn’t been down for breakfast. Really, it’d been her own fault, she’d been finishing up the last few pages of a novel she’d started over the summer holiday and had never quite gotten around to finishing. Still, when she’d left there hadn’t been that much time before class and she doubted that she could sneak down and snag something snack on from the kitchens without being late. I’ll just have to see if I can arrange to get something in between classes.’she thought. The house elves always did seem to know when a student was in need of something, be it food, clean laundry, or anything, really. It was a small marvel, and something she was ever thankful for.

That decided, she slipped into the room and took a seat near the front, not shocked by the fact that they had a new professor –this seemed to be a running theme from year to year in this particular class- but more so by his appearance. It was odd bordering on gruesome, especially if one imagined how he’d come to look as he did. Mismatched eyes, one dark as pitch and the other nearly as blue as the sky seemed trained on her as she entered and took a seat, even thought she could have sworn that he wasn’t actually paying attention to her. No, it seemed he was distracted by….it was impossible to tell, though she supposed it wouldn’t hurt to try guessing. Perhaps he’d never taught before and was simply distracted by his own nerves, or he’d rather be elsewhere, or students had already caught wind of the fact that they’d gained yet another defense against the dark arts professor and they’d set off a stink bomb in his office, hoping to speed up the inevitable – a departure. Her mind wrestled with the possibilities for several moments before she realized that she was staring, at which point she began hastily removing her assigned textbooks and placing them on the desk in front of her.

She considered greeting him, but over the years she’d greeted so many new professors, especially where this particular class was concerned, and it seemed somehow wrong to do so. It’s not that she didn’t wish to be polite, but she had a penchant for getting rather attached to the professors who could hold their own in the classroom and, if that proved to be the case and then he was forced out for whatever reason – as always seemed to happen with this position- it would be more than disappointing. Really there had already been so many disappointments to be had in this class.

It wasn’t until she was paying more heed to her own thoughts than she was to the man at the front of the room that she noticed it, a small fission of discontent, of doubt, something that possessed the familiar tenor of nervousness. She looked up, truly looking at him this time. There was no one else in the room and she couldn’t imagine why she would be nervous, having new professors in defense against the dark arts had become old hat. No, it had to be…him. And that was about when she realized that she was, in fact, going to greet him…perhaps it would help.

“Good morning, Professor,” she began, voice soft and unassuming. All the while she wondered why it was that she always seemed to feel the need to reach out to those around her, why feeling the emotions of another seemed to cajole her into dealing with them on some level, whether she wanted to or not.

Often, she would tell herself that it was simply to make them go away or to make them more manageable, but deep down she knew that that wasn’t quite true. No, she knew full-well how to block them out when they weren’t particularly strong, when it didn’t seem like a scream being broadcast to the world, and this was something subtle, something that was nearly guarded to the point of being completely imperceptible. Perhaps that was why she felt the need to acknowledge it, to speak to him, because he didn’t strike her as the type of man that would display any sort of nervousness…or perhaps it had something to do with the fact that if she looked beyond that hint of nervousness, there were things beneath the surface that felt an awful lot like determination, purpose, and hope.

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1,530 WORDS
JONATHAN + OPEN TAGGED
sorry this post kinda sucks >.< midterms fried my brain NOTES
template by LISA@GBBS, lyrics by immortal techniqueCREDIT

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[GEORGE FABIAN WEASLEY]

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The laughter and muffled voices echoing from the high ceiling of the great hall still lingered within his mind. The remnants of last night’s meal slowly starting to ebb its way through his system as the good began to digest itself. There was nothing like a good old fashion welcome back meal and the festivities that went along with it. However as the red headed teenager began to rub the left over sleep from his eyes a single thought began to pour over him. Last night was the last night he would get to hear the Sorting Hats song before placing new students within each house. Last night was the last night that he would ever hear Head Master Dumbledore’s opening words to start the feast. It was a sobering feeling that soon in less than a year he would be leaving Hogwarts for good and that Fred, Lee and himself would be venturing out into the real world and attempting to make something of themselves. Of course George already knew the path that he wished to take. In fact he couldn’t picture himself in any field that would require him to be all business and no play. This was what he loved about the idea of opening his own Joke shop with his twin brother. A joking around was the only thing they were truly serious about, and in a time where everyone was serious due to the Dark Lord even adults would need something to bring a smile to their faces.

With a great sigh he pulled himself up into a sitting position as he continued to rub at the sleep that refused to remove itself from his eyes. Giving a massive yawn and stretching his arms high above his head he kicked his legs over the edge of his four poster bed and stared at the floor beneath his feet. It was such a shame to have to wake up this morning after such a nice evening the night before. Yet like all good things in this world it all had to come to an end sooner or later. Pushing off of his bed he then began to stretcher the muscles within his legs before grabbing his school uniform decked in brilliant Red and yellow before beheading over to the showers to freshen up for the morning. A short half hour later George was feeling like a new man and ready for whatever the day may bring. Or rather it seemed that he was ready for whatever he may bring to the world of Witchcraft and Wizardry. With a quick glance in the mirror he reached up with both hands and ruffled his hair slightly to give it a disheveled appearance before winking at himself in the mirror. Taking a step back to get a glimpse of his overall appearance he loosened but straightened his tie before muttering to himself. “Alright Georgie, let the games begin.” It took him a whole thirty seconds to descend into the Common Room and glance about. He saw a few first years gathered together on the couch and chairs talking nervously amongst themselves as they attempted to figure out where their classes were.

A small smirk spread over his features as he shook his head lightly. Humming to himself George made his way over to the bulletin board to see if any notices had been placed over the night. It seemed that Gryffindor already had a full team made up for Quidditch this year. They got lucky that none of their teammates graduated last year. Although after this year they would be in need of several players for sure. Exiting through the fat ladies portrait he began his descent down from the Gryffindor tower, through the grand staircase and into the Great Hall. Standing at the entrance he took a deep breath before quickly making his way to an empty seat and piling large servings of everything onto his plate. Of course by now all the Students in his year down to his brothers fifth year knew that it was no surprise how much the Weasley’s could eat. Seeing his best Mate Lee Jordan already at the table he started a small conversation with the over Seventh year boy. Their conversation mostly consisted of what their summers had been filled with and what they were hoping to accomplish this year. Of course for George he wanted to give the best prank that would be remembered for years to come. With a final hearty laugh George excused himself from the table and out of the Great Hall to make his way to the first lesson of his day.

As George made his way towards the first floor he began to wonder whom the Professor was. Sure he had met Professor Quinn the night before along with the rest of the school when Head master Dumbledore introduced him to the masses. Of course the guy looked alright in George’s opinion however today he would be able to get a real handle as to how this new Professor would be. George would give Professor Quinn a few days to settle in before officially welcoming him to the school Weasley style. That was of course if he could sneak something pass the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. As he came up to the class room he noticed that there was one other student within the room beside the Professor himself. If he remembered correctly he could recall that she was from Ravenclaw, course the blue on her uniform helped give that away was well, but her name seemed to have escaped his mind. Of well he would remember it in due time. In fact he was already beginning to remember her name, it began with the letter H. But it wasn’t Helen or Helga, Heather, Hilda or even Heidi. Now this was becoming annoying….but wait…didn’t it rhyme with Eileen? Curse the disease that was the Summer holiday and its ability to suck everything from the brain away. With the tiniest shrug of his shoulders he made his way to the middle of the classroom and took an empty seat in the middle of the class.

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(Tagged)
Professor Quinn, Other Seventh years

(Text)
1031

(Quotes)
Fred and George Weasley

(Notes)
blah

(Credit)
Meet The WereDad @ Caution 2.0

[JONATHAN MARTIN QUINN]

It seemed the old saying about watched pots never boiling was true; because Jonathan stared at the door for ages, almost waiting for a large mass to come bursting through, his students today would be seventh years so surely they would know what was expected of them and know where their lessons would be taking place and to get there with enough time to get settled in and be prepared for the lesson. After learning his way around the castle in his first year he had always done his best to be outside the classroom five minutes earlier just to make sure he wasn't late; he had been teased on occasion for his 'eagerness' but it had least given him a chance to talk to some people and get himself fully ready for the lesson. But like most people had often pointed out to him he wasn't like normal people and to expect so much of his students before even meeting them properly was probably overdoing it a bit. Deciding to give up on staring at the door Jonathan turned away from the door and went to go sit at his desk; and no sooner then he did the door opened revealing to him his first student.

She was a polite little thing and Jonathan made a mental note of her face awaiting the time when he would learn his name. He was a rather old fashioned man and responded well to those who were respectful and polite; if there was one thing he couldn't stand it was someone who was rude. It was a real pet peeve of his and a sure far way to get his blood boiling; he would ensure that his students learned this and anyone who didn't show him respect or was rude to him would be punished. If they weren't mature enough to show common respect then they wouldn't be allowed in his class; for all he cared they could fail, he had no issue with that, they would just have to repeat the year and when this realisation came he was sure they would soon put their act together. Of course he would also go down the traditional path of giving out detentions and taking away points but he really thought that refusing them into his lessons hit home more.

Jonathan looked around the room which had been decorated himself with paintings of famous dark wizard catchers and previous defence against the dark arts professors; including Jonathan's own teacher who Jonathan felt he owed a lot to. Accompanying the painting were many dark art objects and defensive items which Jonathan had collected over the years. Jonathan had been initially worried about having items like this in his classroom, but he had figured that if he was going to teach the students about how to defend not only against spells, but items which could be used against them then it was far better to actually be able to see the object first hand then looking at a picture. He was worried that some parents would complain about having their children exposed to dark objects but he saw no real danger in it; after all they were at far greater risk at home then they were here and at least this way they were under his supervision.

Another student entered the classroom and Jonathan immediately recognised it as one of the Weasley children; the orange hair and freckles were unmistakable and if he was correct this was one of the twins. He saw Arthur Weasley from time to time when he was at the ministry; usually when he was in the lift going to his floor but their meetings were often brief even during Order meetings; Jonathan was the sort of man who kept to himself; he would make contributions during meetings but when they were over he usually left not feeling like staying behind for the chit chat and the social part of it. But from what he had learned from the few times he had stayed [usually after being forced] the Weasley twins were trouble makers and loved to push the boundaries and he would be sure to make sure that he kept an eye on them.

TAG - 7th years
WORDS - 704
NOTES - this is set BEFORE the basilisk's first attack
TUNES - devil in a midnight mass , billy talent.
CREDIT - template by MUNZTAR * of caution 2.0

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