Post by blaise leo zabini on Apr 23, 2018 20:22:32 GMT -7
A month had already gone by since the fall term had begun. Blaise, in all of his infinite wisdom, had thought it was a genius idea to take up the offer of becoming the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, a position that had been plagued during his time at school and seemed to have difficulty maintaining any sort of tenure since. That was exactly what he needed, really. As if being bored to death by Obliviators and the unsatisfactory itch of the Hit squad wasn’t bad enough, now he had a target painted on his head. In his defense, the professors during his years were never that spectacular, each having severe flaws of their own that ultimately led to their untimely removal. Seven professors in seven years. Quite the notable record, actually. The goal was to make it through the two terms, the subsequent summer, and onto the fall term. Compared to those that ‘taught’ him, and that was a loose definition of teaching, since only a few actually managed to do so, Blaise was of far superior intellect and skill. He knew that, and everyone else would soon enough as well, if they didn’t already. The survival rate of two stints as a hit wizard decreased with each passing year, and despite his second go at it only lasting a matter of months, these were trying times and certainly more dangerous than when he had first joined up straight out of school and still wet behind the ears.
The students now were different than when he was there as well, that much he knew from his own two children. With Liona gone, it was easier to handle just his son at school, and who seemingly avoided him outside of class. Blaise didn’t blame him, it was strange to suddenly have a parent around constantly. The rest of the student body, and that was an extensive group, with the introduction of the loud, obnoxious American children this year, was subpar with their skills in the art. They knew the basics, sure, but it seemed to be the same old material that had been taught during his time, with very little updating done since he was last in the classroom. His experience as a hit wizard had already reared its ugly head, showing the older students defensive (and a few less dangerous offensive) spells that actually worked against someone trying to kill them, one of the things he wished had been given to him during his school years. The younger ones were stuck with learning about creatures and side-effects of dark magic, which was unfortunately necessary. If he was going to be stuck doing this job for a few years, he would have to build a new syllabus from scratch in order to teach what he wanted to teach. Right now, sticking to the typical lesson plan had to happen, at least until he got a bearing on what Hogwarts thought was a proper education against the dark arts.
Currently, Blaise was seated at his desk, flipping through a pile of essays, if they could actually be considered that, and grimacing at the lack of thought put into any of them. These were bloody fifth years! They should have known how to write a proper research paper by this point in time. Sooner or later, Defense Against the Dark Arts was going to be turned into a basic literacy and writing class. Then the students would learn to take this seriously. A pressure headache building at the bridge of his nose, Blaise massaged the cartilage as he leaned back in his chair. Paperwork and incompetence would always exist. No matter how often he tried to escape both of them, they seemed to be there. At least now he had the opportunity to nip the latter at the bud.