Defence Against the Dark Arts ClubPosted by phelan_llewelyn on 2005.10.23 at 23:47
Current Mood: cold
Day: Tuesday, September 2nd (Day Two)
Place: Defence Against the Dark Arts Classroom
Tag: Anybody, professors and students alike
Llewelyn sat at his desk in his classroom, eyes roaming boredly over a paper written by a second year student, nose wrinkling slightly as he tried not to groan outright at all the spelling and grammatical errors. He reached for his bottle of mineral water, earrings and bracelet tinkling sweetly in the silence as he moved and echoing ever so slightly in the high-ceilinged room. He wasn't wearing his volumnous robes or imposing accessories tonight, since he was technically off the clock. He preferred his extra-curricular activities be more relaxed than his classes, since there was no particular educational goal to be reached. With his hair pulled back and his black silk shirt and trousers instead of bold colored robes, he looked almost decievingly slender and harmless. Perhaps that would put some of the more nervous students at ease and let them actually learn something.
He crossed out a particularly badly worded sentence and delicately stifled a yawn. Across the desk a photograph of a petite young blonde tsked at him and giggled. Llewelyn scowled at the wedding photo, wondering why he bothered to keep it anymore. As if seeing the faces of students every day wasn't enough of a reminder...
How old was Lauralai when that picture was taken? He was more than ten years her senior, that he remembered. Fifteen... she'd been fifteen when they'd married, and he'd been twenty-six. Not that he was some kind of pervert or anything... he'd literally known the girl since she was born. It hadn't been any frivolous, thoughtless marriage, they'd been in love for at least a year before she was old enough to marry with her parents' consent. And they had consented happily... if the girl's parents had no problem with it, nobody else should.
Laura had been married at fifteen, given birth at sixteen, and died a mere two months after that. They should have had a long and happy life together, instead both her life and his happiness had been brutally cut short. Eight years later and he still had her picture smiling at him from atop his desk.
He watched the lovely face smile at him for a moment longer, then batted the frame from his desk with the back of his hand. It hit the floor and shattered loudly in the quiet, and a moment later a loud crack heralded the arrival of a house elf to clean up the mess.
"Just throw it away," he said flatly as the tiny creature offered him the photo it had rescued from the mess. He watched, devoid of any emotion, as the last remnant of Laura's existance was finally eradicated from his life. He wondered if he should feel some sort of closure now, something to tell him it was all right to move on. Her murderers were dead, her parents had long since forgiven him, every indication she had lived had been erased from his life. But he didn't feel any different than he had five minutes before.
Another crack signalled the house elf taking her leave, and Llewelyn put away the sheaf of report parchments. He put them in a drawer and pulled out a clipboard that held a small booklet and an order form. He'd already decided on which particular books he was going to use for the extra-curricular class, and each student who joined would recieve the parcel by owl at breakfast time within two days. If anybody joined, that was. He was well aware that he was hardly a popular teacher, and the difficulty of the level he chose to teach made it worse. He didn't teach fifth, sixth or seventh year level DADA... his students would probably be surprised to learn that they were on a University level in Defence Against the Dark Arts.
He put down the clipboard and opened his copy of Dark Ages Resurfacing: Advanced Defence Against Rarely Used Black Magics, his chosen text for the DADA club, and began to mark off passages of particular use while he waited for students to arrive.