“ tea, booze, and nibbles “ | a. svyatoslavich
One of the first routines that Nicholas found himself enjoying was grading papers. There was something very therapeutical about the process, plus, he felt that it was the only time he’d be able to understand a semblance of what his students were thinking. To him, reading the writing of another was similar to being allowed to enter into their mind, be able to peek through the crevices of their kept homes, and draw a piece of the writer outwards. Even during his studies at Hogwarts, Nicholas would always look forward to reading his friends’ essays. In the first year, they would question why (essays were something of a mental and physical torment for any student), but after his murmur of “editing assistance” and the profound difference in grades they received after letting Nich read their papers, no one bothered him about it again. In fact, classmates began talking amongst themselves, and soon, the Slytherin boy had more than enough papers procured for his growing fascination.
It was enthralling; how to unrelenting one could be as they wrote. Somehow, speaking to parchment and blank sheets allowed a person to let go of their inhibitions, allowed them to express their minds without fearing an immediate reaction.
Now, as an older wizard, reading his students’ papers was all the more interesting.
Charms was a class that could easily becoming rudimentary and bland if not approached correctly. Even more so if the students didn’t feel as if they were being challenged to their potential capabilities. Of course, Nich had to keep it just average for the overall class, but his questions and tasks were set in a way that if one wanted to advance, they would have the option to do research on their own (with precautionary guidance, obviously).
A majority of these “challenges” were focused on the mental and emotional state of charm works. Though the class curriculum was split into honing physical movements and the pronunciation-enunciation of the charms, Nicholas believed that a great deal of successful magic wielding lied in root of how the spells were casted.
Therefore, he had his students (mainly his fourth and fifth years) write out their thoughts and counters with the prompts he would give them at the beginning of each week. They would meditate on it, do whatever research they chose to either prove or reject his prompt before turning it in at the end of the week. Of course, for those that chose not to do any out-of-class research, they could simply respond to the prompt by their own thoughts.
Either way, their answers were an expression of how they understood the intentions behind the charms casted.
Doing so, in the long run, Nicholas believed, would benefit them greatly.
Whether they agreed with him on that statement was an entirely different story.
The one downside Nicholas acknowledged was that the pile of papers never seemed to end. He was one professor facing students of five different years from four different houses mixing together in his classroom. There was a lot to read. A lot to mark up. A lot of feedback to scribble back.
Ah, well. The sacrifices for the greater good.
Which is why, when he had an hour or so to himself, the classroom blissfully empty, Nicholas was tear-jerkingly grateful.
He was also happy for the company that tended to join him.
When he had met Aleksandra, the Charms professor oddly reminded of his sister. Albeit, the other witch was more of a younger version of Koralia, they both possessed an independent ferocity that knew very little shame, and that had Nicholas absently thinking of what could happen if they met one another.
They got along, he and Aleksandra. He assumed they did with her visits to his office, bringing with her a flurry of her day’s story between bites of food and sips of tea.
He provided the beverages, she provided her stories, and today would be no different.
Just before the clock clicked to noon, he could already hear the clicks of her heels coming by, and when the door opened, Nich simply looked up and smiled.
