Another book was placed on the shelf as the professor worked, a small hum erupting each time a particularly fond memory attached to the book covers appeared. Each one had been found while scouting out old libraries in the muggle world, digging about in whatever shops advertised older reads. Some of the books were falling to pieces and written in languages that had long since been forgotten.
Stardust had only been teaching for a few months, and his classroom was still very under-decorated , but the students didn’t seem to mind. Not at all, actually. In fact, they adored being in class. They always asked their teacher so many questions and it seemed that they hung on to his every word. They liked how warm and cozy the room could be. The way that their eyes grew wide in the summer classes as the wide set windows lay open to the gentle breezes allowing birds and flying insects inside. Though there was always that one student that complained.
It was liberating, really, to be so well liked as he shared the knowledge he had gathered over years of studies. Stardust had never been the smartest student, or the best student, but he had always been driven. He had always worked hard. Magic was difficult and often times he worried that he wouldn’t be any good at it. But as he practiced and studied and pushed himself, Star found himself finally able to control the very emotionally charged explosions of power that caused so many disruptions.
The word squib had been tossed around.
Star often couldn’t perform in class and nerves wracked their body, but the moment that they were home or alone or being bullied windows would shatter and lights would flicker.
And where they failed in physical magic, the power of divination made up. They excelled in classes that others struggled in.
Romania wasn’t long away, but right then it felt like centuries ago. Because even though Star wanted very much to be back at the school they called home, there was still that lingering fear that people would treat them the same— that they wouldn’t be understood.
The dragons they had worked with understood Stardust. Though they were never very affectionate past the few days that they remained small and in need of care, they never questioned Stardust. And maybe it was silly to prioritize the opinions of large, winged, scaled lizards. But they had never intentionally wronged him.
Still, the ache in his shoulders sent his hand to rub over the prickling skin that showed exactly why no one should ever take nature for granted— no matter how close one was with it, it was still a wild and untamable force not to be toyed with. It served as their reminder.
At the sound of another person entering the room, Stardust turned, their lean frame twisting to face the other. They couldn’t help the wide, harsh smile that overtook his features.
“Jiji,” They said brightly, dropping the books back into their pile on the desk and moving over to the other in quick strides that seemed impossible with the tightness of their jeans, the material shining in the natural lighting that peaked through the silk. “I’m glad to see you, did you rest well? I’m sure I wrote in plain English but who knows— maybe I was confused. I wanted to show you something out on the grounds. I was hoping for your executive opinion on something I wanted to include in my care class, if you didn’t mind that is.” Hands pressed into pockets, the black button up that was 4 buttons shy of their collar pulling tight as their wide shoulders rolled.
“Then maybe we sit down for some tea? If you’re not busy, of course.” Their eyes gazed affectionately at their childhood friend, a hand darting out to tame a stray hair that stood atop the mans head before quickly going back to where it had been in their pocket.
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