Questions
Entering your first class of your career, you walked into the classroom. Rows of students already sat at their desks, engulfed in discussion. Not noticing your entrance, you began to walk, yet the sudden clicks of your heels caused the room to hush and turn to you. Confidently making your way to the front of the spacious room, you hung your outer robe on the back of the chair paired with the head desk, now yours. Turning to face the room of curious eyes, a wave of your hand caused a piece of chalk to fly and scratch across the chalkboard, eloquently writing out ‘Miss. L/n.’ in fine cursive.
With a fait smile, you eyed the students. “Good morning class, as you have now discovered I am Miss. L/n. And I have the honour of teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts with professor Lupin.”
Pausing, your hands grasped together in a swift movement.
“Now, I personally believe that in order for me to teach you to the best of my ability, it would be best if your questions about me were answered. Consequently, let me tell you a bit about myself.”
Beginning to walk slowly down each isle of the desks, your smooth voice had the attention of the entire room.
“As you may have noticed, my English accent is slightly skewed compared to yours. And that is because I am originally from Australia, where I grew up. Though I too was a student at Hogwarts as of my fifth year. After my studies, however, I pursued a career in undercover investigations through an individual wizarding group… hence my experience in the dark arts. So please do not fret to approach me with any questions regarding your studies. Now! Enough about me. Let’s go around the room and each of you shall introduce yourself through an interesting fact!”
Returning to your spot at the teacher’s desk, you leaned against the wood smiling back at the now murmuring students.
“Who would like to go first?” You asked eagerly, awaiting a response as the third years eyed each other.
Suddenly a hand shot up from a young girl in the second row, she seemed familiar to you.
Clearing her throat, the wavy-haired girl began; “Hermione Granger, Miss. L/n.” You nodded back at her with a small smile.
“My interesting fact is that I am named after a Shakespearian character.” The bright girl continued. You nodded once again.
“But, may I ask professor… Why did you only come to Hogwarts until the fifth year?” She asked more quietly but surely.
Raising your eyebrow, you noticed the other students quieten down and tentatively listen.
Clearing your throat, you tucked your hands around your torso.
“Well, if you must know. I had been previously… busy. I had to support myself for a great deal of my teenage years. Now, let’s continue to the next student.” You looked up to the class.
Another hand rose. You nodded your head towards the student. Awaiting their introduction, you were instead met with another question.
“You are from Australia?! But why would you come here?” The boy pushed.
With a small chuckle, you stood fully again and gave into his question.
“Yes, I travelled here as a young girl in search of work and community.” Pausing.
Before continuing, you leaned slightly on your hip, your eyes squinting just a bit.
“Anymore questions? You all seem a bit curious…” You asked.
Before you could blink nearly the entire room was filled with raised hands, much to your surprise. Though you understood, even during your days as a student in these halls you had not met another Aussie.
Pointing defeatedly with a quaint smirk to the student nearest to you as to hear their question, you awaited calmly for the onflow of curiosity from the class.
“You were in search of work? As a child?! What did you do?” One boy asked, a look of absolute curiosity on his face.
“Ah, yes. Not everyone is given the same upbringing in life. I had to earn my way through a fight club.” You answered with your back turned.
Immediate to your response, you heard a collective gasp and awe of ‘a fight club?’, other whispers of ‘that’s so cool!’, and ‘she must be really strong’ were heard amongst the room.
“Alrighty, we will have to get to teaching you some content shortly, I will allow one more question.” You said whilst exhaling.
Choosing a random student, you nodded to a young boy. Upon walking in front of him to hear his question you recognised him. Correcting his round glasses, the boy asked;
“Professor, why do you have so many scars?”
The question caught you entirely by surprise. You often wore your signature black sheer sleeves blouse, so you know they were slightly visible, however you have never bluntly been asked about them, let alone by a child. As the healed gashes that ran on your chest, neck, arms, and down your hands now felt ever so present, you cleared your throat before opening the textbook for your subject. The class still eagerly waiting for your answer as they looked between you and the student.
“Hmm, yes well you should ask the people who gave them to me.” You answered with a small grin before addressing the boy once again.
“And, that is not an entirely appropriate question, Harry Potter.” You added before sitting down, your use of his name startling him slightly.
“Now, class. Please turn to chapter thirty of your textbooks.” You started the class.
-
“You all did great today; I shall see you tomorrow. Please bring parchment and do the assigned reading. You are dismissed, nice to meet you all!” You smiled whilst looking up from the wooden podium where you stood. Many students waved to you as they excitedly made their way to their next class, giggling and walking recklessly with their belongings. Immersed in your thoughts, you failed to notice that one student stayed behind.
“Ahem, professor?” Harry peeped.
You turned swiftly to face him from organising your bookcase.
“Oh, Harry. How can I help you?” You addressed him calmly before absentmindedly sorting your papers on your desk as you sat in front of the boy.
“I want to apologise. For my question, earlier. You see, I only asked it as I have a scar myself.” The boy lifted the hair on his forehead to reveal a small lightning bolt-like scar. Your jaw opened slightly as you stopped rummaging through your papers.
“Except sometimes it burns, professor. I wondered if you experience this too, hence why I asked the question. Though I didn’t mean to be intrusive.” He looked at his feet.
With a sigh, you stood and moved to the front of your desk where Harry stood waiting for your reply.
“It’s okay Harry, I understand your curiosity. And if it’s any consolation, mine do too sometimes. Specifically on my hands…” You opened your hands to reveal two healed scars in the middle of your palms.
Closing them, you turned to the boy. “It’s what happens, as we were given our scars by those truly evil. By those we do not speak of.”
You offered the boy a kind smile before patting him on the back as he looked at you in return.
“The past does not define you, Harry. Now, you should hurry—you don’t want to be late for your next class, do you?” You turned to return to your seat as to begin marking during your free period.
After that short exchange, Harry grew fond of you. He almost saw himself in you—or at least who he wanted to be, in you.
“Thank you, professor.” He smiled before readjusting his book satchel on his shoulder and taking his leave. The last of his footsteps along the wooden floorboard leaving you alone with your thoughts once again.