Potions Class

[scientiaeaquam.livejournal.com]

The dungeons are dark, dank, cold, and... well, dungeon-like. There's really only so much that can be done to make them more cheerful and welcoming and Sokka prefers to spend most of his time down there working, rather than decorating. But the torches that light his classroom are considerably brighter than they have been in the past and a request for desks and furnishings a little newer than Inquisition-era meant that the walls no longer looked like they should be adorned with iron chains.

He needed the wall space, anyway.

Sokka is sitting at his desk as students file in, smiling cheerfully at any one of them who meets his gaze. He has a love and passion for many things, but there's no other job in the world he'd prefer over Potions at Hogwarts. There's magic in these halls and most of it, he's certain, takes place where it's least expected. Not from a wand, but in the face of a student finally getting that difficult assignment, not just complete but understood.

(it is also occasionally in the face of the student who realizes being a know-it-all is not actually advantageous if they overshoot their own knowledge and have a professor who isn't afraid to remind them who's teaching the class)

Today, magic also comes in the form of two small cauldrons sitting on the good professor's desk. Sokka has his feet up on the desk, ankles crossed, allowing the kids time to talk and shuffle about until the bell rings. Though once it has, he's sitting up, feigning enough adulthood to shut the door with a mutter and a flick of his wand and let that sound gather attention rather than a shout.

"Right," he says, once he's got at least half the faces in the room focused on himself, "we're going back to basics a bit today. The first week of a new term always seems a good time to refresh with what we all did our best to forget over summer holidays."


[OOC: Tag in with your year and house and let's make SPLODEY THINGS]