Thread: The Dirty Part of Physics [ClockworkCadence ║ Ryees]

Welcome to Advanced Defense. This is not Defense Against the Dark Arts, like you were taught in your primary schools. The Dark Arts are not as common as those headmasters seem to think. More often, you will be assailed by your neighbor's wife, or your bus driver, or the man who made your sandwich last Tuesday. I am not going to teach you a Patronus charm, or reteach you a Boggart defense. I am going to teach you how to defend yourself. By reaching this point, you have demonstrated one of a few possible character traits 1 You are daft, and seeing your would-be classmates get vacuumed out by Theodoor Roosevelt stunned you to silence. 2 You are patient, enough so that you were willing to simply sit and wait to see what would happen. -2b You are hesitant, and were simple unwilling to speak up, and I suspect this is more likely than the root option for most of you. 3 You solved this riddle. Only one of you may do that, so well done to that person for being either the smartest, or the most reckless. On the desk at the front of the room, you will each find a paper with your name at the top. This page contains your syllabus, required materials for class, expectations, and how to manage the Armadillo of Honor. He is an important part of our classroom procedure, so do be sure to read and understand that section thoroughly. Whosoever cast the Revelio charm, please bring the Armadillo of Honor back to your desk with you when you retrieve your syllabus. You may get up from your seats when I raise my hand. 8 Professor Sherlin stood, walked one step to his left, and sat down in the leather rolling chair. He spun to face the board, then spun back, his eyes touching each of the students left in the room, eight separate looks meeting each of them in the eye as he perused. His mouth split into a pleased grin, his fingers flattening to let his chin rest atop them. Always pleased to see that I am not going to be disappointed by anyone. With that, he leaned back in his chair. One hand took his notebook from the table, held open with a thumb as he idly scanned the pages, and the other perched on the armrest, hand raised in the air with one finger pointing upwards. That appeared to be as clear a signal as he was to give. As the students funneled in front of his desk, he looked each one up and down thoughtfully, carefully taking in as much detail as he could before turning his eyes back to his notes between each visitor. A tall blonde boy, clearly a fresh graduate of Hogwarts by his young-looking face and gold-and-crimson striped scarf. Hitchens, Alfred pureblood, old family, Gryfiindor of Hogwarts idiot. Alfred smiled at Sherlin as he passed, and Sherlin smiled back, friendly and welcoming and as fake as could be. Alfred did not seem to notice. Two more students passed, both boring half-blood witches of no note or consequence that would never make a mark upon the world or achieve any relevance. His attention perked back up again, though, as a hand settled atop the Armadillo of Honor. The professor's eyes followed that olive-skinned hand up to meet dark eyes set into a small, rounded face atop a short stalk of a body. Your class is interesting, she offered, clearly pleased with herself and trying to make a good impression. We've all been challenged before, but always by the learning itself, never by the obstacle to that learning. Already trying to get us to think differently, I see. Lying, simpering thief, thought Sherlin with a gracious smile, nodding his head and leaning back in his chair. You did well, he assured her, intensely annoyed by the way her smile widened at his praise, a few more seconds and you'd all have been out the door. She blinked at that, and his smile vanished, an expectant look raising his brows as his head tilted. Oh, my, yes. Should you all have taken any longer, you would have been fired immediately. As if it were the most obvious thing in the world, his brow furrowed. Do you think I would spend the time to teach a group of hopeless idiots? He laughed from his belly, leaning forward on the desk and lacing his fingers. The laugh did not reach his eyes. I am not so altruistic as that. Bailey, Helen Muggle-born, valedictorian aspirant, shameless thief, possibly cutthroat further observation needed to assess potential. Helen's smile had faded and she had frozen in place, hand on the Armadillo of Honor. Sherlin's brows twitched up, and he shooed his fingers at her. That was enough to unfreeze her, and she retrieved her syllabus and returned to her seat, Armadillo of Honor in hand. When she made it to her seat, she uncertainly set it down stop her book bag, next to her chair. It shot her an indignant look and leapt up on top of her desk, nestling down comfortably on her textbook and promptly falling asleep. She stared at it for a moment, then tried to move the book out from under it, only to have its head snap up and a sullen hiss whisper out from... somewhere. Its mouth did not open. Helen did not try to touch her book after that. The student that immediately followed Helen was the other human in the room that Sherlin did not suppose ran on energy drinks and disappointment. Hudson, Olivia half-blood, ambassador, coward she said nothing and allowed her work to be stolen further observation needed to assess suitability to the field. Sherlin smiled at her, but his eyes locked with hers with a powerful flare of I know what you did suddenly blazing to life. As fast as it ignited, it flickered out, a plastic smile tugging his lips into place. Welcome to class, Miss Hudson, he said, drawing a look from the previous students who had clearly not been important enough to receive a greeting of their own. We look forward to working with you. Who his royal we included was unclear, but that strangeness was overtaken by a second novel gesture as he reached a hand out to her in a peculiarly everyman offering of a handshake.