Gryffindor

Ted Lupin +5
Alexandra McGee +4
Dessa Share +2

Hufflepuff

Paetyn Harper +2
Alice Hunter +4
Ethan Irons +1 + 1 (question)
Annette Lotusorder +2 - 1 (leaving)
John Windell +3

Ravenclaw

Noah Archer +5 + 1 (demo)

OOC: For those unfamiliar with my lessons, please post as if you have been present from the beginning, unless you have a valid, and pre-discussed plot reason for announcing a late arrival.

PMing me is encouraged if you'd like me to be aware of something character significant for the lesson, ta. I don't deduct housepoints for non attendance, I do add them for participation, interesting, plot furthering or amusing IC reactions, and especially for balanced character abilities. If you can't join us, may be to your advantage to drop me a quick note.

Second lesson of the day after Charms, on a Friday.

---

Part of Professor Storm had dreaded the possibility of a joint lesson with his previous superior, Headmaster Eisenberg of Durmstrang, but given their discussions of the subject matter for the first years that morning, he was instead a little elated to have the opportunity to present the Durmstrang way of teaching again.

He and Auberon had discussed matters prior to the lesson, and met in the classroom a little earlier than the students were expected to prepare the necessary items within a chest beside a desk.

Looming near the door, he watched each of them come in, and fall silent as they saw their Professor was not alone. Undoubtedly for a few of them, a nightmare was already unfolding, and they shrank into their desks. Without having to utter a word, it was silently conveyed that the students should be quiet, orderly and attentive to represent Hogwarts.

"Good morning, I must introduce Headmaster Eisenberg of the Durmstrang Institute, who will also be teaching you today." He gestured politely to the wizard beside him.

"Professor Einsenberg." Ignan turned to look directly at his newly acquired colleague, and his expression only read encouragement to give the first years a lesson to remember.

Please wait for Auberon to post

Auberon had never taught the younger children; his lessons had always been for advanced students in certain disciplines. But these spells were critical for just about anyone to know...and these last few months had convinced him that the younger Storm was going soft. And he couldn't be having with that - the lack of softness was one of the things that had made him like the other man, after all.

He stood in the front of the class, dressed in his usual rich robes, the fabric embroidered with golden thread and the fur around his collar and sleeves real. He smiled - though his smile was always a bit threatening, when aimed at students - and spread his arms wide. His voice was loud, as always.

"Greetings, students," he said, folding his arms before him. "Here at Hogwarts, your classes are safe, comfortable - you are taught magic that is well within the grasp of all of you. No child is left behind, no? But - in the spirit of learning, of course - today will be different. Today, we test your limits, your mettle - we see who among you are truly talented, and who -" He glanced sharply at several students, "Are not."

He drew not his wand, but a dagger, the clearly ceremonial piece decorated and sharp. The blade gleamed in the room's light, and he turned it so that all of them could see it.

"In reality, you will not always be able to cast spells as you do now. You will have to cast spells in desperation, while your mind is clouded with panic, with fear, with pain. Not being able to do this could cost you your lives, and the lives of your friends." He knew that well enough - one didn't kill Vampires for years without close calls.

"And so, today, you learn the Durmstrang way - the hard way." He took the dagger and, without so much as a flinch, he rolled his sleeve up. His bare arm exposed, he drew the blade across his skin. Red blood welled up in its wake, running along the contour of his arm and dripping onto the floor.

He lowered his arm with the cut made, the blood running down onto his fingers, the dagger still held in his hand.

"Tell me - if you or your friends cut or injured themselves, and you had no adults around - what would you do? Answer."

This was going to be a fun class. No, Lexi shook her head, let me rephrase that. This was going to be a seriously interesting class. From the moment Professor Eisenberg drew a dagger, Lexi leaned forward, eyes trained on the glinting metal. She watched how easily it sliced through skin, drawing the thick red blood.

"I'd use a healing spell, or if that wasn't possible, use some sort of available fabric to bind the wound and apply pressure." Lexi said immediately, barely bothering to raise her hand. This man wanted answers, and she could give them. Her mom had instructed her enough times about it, she had trained to be a healer, but chose to stay at home with Lexi and her brothers instead of pursuing a further career in St. Mungo's.

For what it was worth, she wasn't afraid of her own or someone else's blood anymore. She'd been covered in her own enough times.

For a moment, she wondered if the professor was going to have them cut their own arms and heal them. It'd barely burn, she thought, compared to ripping through my own skin every full moon.

Then her eyes flicked over to Alice, how would she be taking this? With her serious fear of blood and all, please don't have another episode. Please don't freak out. She sent positive thoughts to her friend.

Alice sat there, in the first row, just as she always did. She liked the front row. She got to see the whole lesson, was able to block out any distractions behind her. She had her quill, her ink, her notebook open to a new page, dated, and her book. But something about today's lesson was weird. Professor Storm wasn't teaching alone. Usually, she wouldn't have an issue with this, but this man scared her a little. He seemed angered, serious, like he was going to teach them through fear and quick actions, two things she never did well with.

She watched as the Durmstrang headmaster stepped forward, talked a little about how this class was different, and then went on about talking about how they'll have to act in emergency situations. She understood. This was true. Magic is there to save the user. And one cannot be saved if they are not in danger. He said then that they'd learn it the hard way. This was the frightening part. She never liked the hard way. Her parents used to threaten Jane that she could go to bed the easy way or the hard way. She would then trudge up the stairs, taking the easy way. The hard way meant she'd lose privileges. So, were they going to lose privileges today? Alice highly doubted that.

She watched as he withdrew what she thought would be a wand, but then saw a dagger. Her eyes grew. He was going to hurt someone. He was going to use someone, and make them get hurt. But no, he just cut himself on the wrist. Her eyes looked like they'd pop out of her head. It brought her back to the attack, but, she did some deep breathing to calm herself, just like the councilor told her.

Alice wanted to cover her eyes, but she knew it'd be rude. So, she suffered though the image, and just kept her mind on puppies in baskets. He asked what they'd do in an emergency, and Lexi piped up saying that she'd cast a healing spell. That was Lexi for you.

Annette's arm rocketed up, she was a klutz, her father and Eliza used on her all the time, she thought of the many spells they had used for her many cuts and bruises, broken bones and things like that. The Durmstrang Headmaster certain had a high pain tolerance. Hopefully this would be better than her puncturing her lung on their first class.

"A few spells you could use are Episkey, that heals relatively minor injuries such as broken toes or Vulnera Sanentur that is used to heal injuries ranging from minor cuts to deep gashes. One would say it three times for maximum effect the first time it was used the flow of blood eased up; the second time caused the wounds to knit; the third time removed most visible injuries near-instantaneously."

She sounded like she was quoting the text book, she was. She scribbled down what she had said seconds after she was done speaking, scrawling with her uneven script and dove feather quill.

From the third row, Ted regarded the Drumstrang headmaster's question with trepidation. What would he do in that situation? Well, the answer, apparently, was 'stand by stupidly while the injured girl you know damn well has a thing for you gets patched up by her cousin, then turn your back on her for a split second so she gets pulled down a hole by her worst nightmares.'

Why no, now that you ask, he wasn't still dwelling on that little incident with Boggarts and hidden dungeon corridors. The question just brought back memories. He squashed them before inferi-Mum could reappear and scowled, tapping his quill against the parchment.

The memories lingered. Damn this old fart, digging those back up. 'You will have to cast spells in desperation,' he said. No shite, grandpa, thanks for the reminder. His heckles raised, Ted switched his eyes to werewolf-gold and continued his silent glare, daring the man to try whatever 'real world' situations they were building up on him first. It was Friday the 13th, a day for trouble and bad luck. He'd welcome the challenge.

Episkey? Vulnera Sanentur? Well, well - Auberon eyed the girls thoughtfully, expression sharp and strict. Such spells were well beyond the grasp of these children; even Durmstrang didn't teach them 'til the latter years of Spellworks. He smiled, the expression hardly a reassuring one.

"Episkey is largely intended for broken bones, fräulein; I doubt casting it at a cut would do much good if the wound was grievous," he said, tone neutral and somewhat dour. As he spoke, he rolled his sleeve up again; the gash had bled more and had thus smeared the fabric, the blood dark red against the white fabric of his sleeves. He raised his wand, looking at them pointedly.

"However, overall -  a good answer, provided you are capable of such magic. For children your age, the suggestion of binding the wound with fabric is, perhaps, a more practical solution - of course, one must keep in mind that even that can be ill advised," he said, recalling some of the..interesting side effects that could have. Probably best not to deal with it.

"Today, we'll be covering a slightly more basic spell," he said, "Though many of you will still find it difficult..."

Extending his arm again, he rolled the sleeve up.

"The incantation is Staima," he said, as he wove his wand in a circle around the wound. Sparkling magic burst from the end, surrounding the effected area. As the magic worked, the blood flow stopped, though the wound did not heal. Those close to the front could see that his veins had not healed, but his blood now flowed from one broken one to the other, as if they were still together.

"Knitting flesh together is a more difficult feat to do correctly than most might imagine," he said. "This charm will stop bleeding, but not close the wound, leaving it susceptible to infection. The wand movement is simple; circle the wound or area you wish to effect."

He kept his sleeve rolled up, looking to them. "Practice the incantation; we will ask you to demonstrate shortly."

Paetyn had been talking excitedly in the hall, all kinds of excited for his Defense class. He didn’t really do well with spells yet, but he felt like Professor Storm (though mean and scary) really pushed him, as well as his class, to learn. He skipped merrily down the corridor to the classroom, but fell immediately silent upon entering the room. He knew that Professor Storm had taught at Durmstrang, but he didn’t think that he would actually invite the Headmaster to class!

Paetyn scampered to his seat like a puppy with its tail between its legs. He didn’t like the staff from Durmstrang, they seemed too brash, too rough for the gentle art of teaching. He sat quietly in the middle of the room, not wanting to sit too close to the front, and not wanting to be caught slouching in the back of the room either. He took out his quill and parchment, sat his book on the desk, and removed his wand from his pocket, all without saying a word, which was quite a feat for the Hufflepuff boy.

When Durmstrang’s Headmaster took out the knife and sliced his skin open, Paetyn couldn’t help but let out a little yip, too scared to do much more than that. He had no clue what to do if you wanted to stop bleeding, he wasn’t exactly a healer. He thought about maybe tying a tourniquet around the wound, but that wasn’t a magical solution and if left on too long, the bandage could cut off the circulation of blood flow, rendering the limb useless.

He watched in awe as the creepy flesh-cutting guy waved his arm around the wound, causing the blood to continue to flow unhindered. He was bursting with questions, and if it had only been their usual professor in the class, Paetyn wouldn’t have minded raising his hand, but as he slowly started to put his arm up, he looked at Professor Eisenberg and quickly jerked it back into his lap. He quickly jotted down the instructions for the spell and picked up his wand, not wanting to make the professors mad. “Stamian…Stima…Stamia…” He muttered under his breath, trying to be sure he got the pronunciation just right. He circled his wand above the desk, making large, uneven loops and muttering the spell.

Ignan watched silently, his expression neutral as Auberon demonstrated the spell. He was all too familiar with the need for that spell. The day he had been splinched when Noriko Wakahisa had thrown herself aside when they were instructing them on how to avoid side-long apparition against their will. He involuntarily flinched at the memory, before turning to the board and scrawling Staima[1] in chalk across it for the students.

"Repeat." He addressed the first years, "Staima." He paused for them to cautiously echo. "St-aima," he accentuated, doing his best to soften is own accent to the greek origins of the spell. Again the first years echoed.

"Practically speaking, the first thing to do aside to magic would be to apply direct pressure, and raise the wound above your heart, to lesson the flow. Easy if you injure yourself on the arm," He stepped aside and firmly, but respectfully grasped Auberon's elbow and raised the man's arm above his head. "If, like Professor Eisenberg, the injury is not a scratch or graze but poses a significant blood loss, it is good to seat the injured party also." With a glance to his former employer, he released his grip and stepped aside, allowing the man to repeat his spell as required before the effects wore away.

"If the injury were to the leg, what action would be suitable to take to follow the same precautions?"

1.	Note spelling s-t-a-i-m-a, Wiki

Sitting next to Paetyn, Ethan had never been gladder to be a few rows back, in this class or any other since he'd started at Hogwarts. Alice had implied he could join her up in front, but he preferred to be as far back from the imposing Defense professor and deputy headmaster as possible. Coming in to see Professor Tall, Pale, and Spooky standing next to the headmaster of Durmstrang almost convinced him to sit even further back, especially once Eisenberg started cutting his arm open. At least he didn't jump, like Paetyn did.

"Today, we'll be covering a slightly more basic spell, though many of you will still find it difficult. ... The incantation is Staima."

"Weird," Ethan muttered to himself, watching the headmaster's wound suddenly stop bleeding. From this far back, he couldn't figure out how--if it was just stopping the blood flow, wouldn't the rest of his arm start looking funny colors? He'd never paid attention in his science classes back at primary.

Eisenberg told them to practice, so Ethan pulled out his wand and started testing out the wand motion. He was getting it right, he thought, but nothing was coming out of his wand except the occasional glowing mote. "You think we have to be hurt for it to work," he muttered, careful not to look at Paetyn while he did so. That had cost him house points before in this class, but Storm didn't always notice if you were careful about it.

Interestingly, Professor Storm seemed more information in the practical aspect of the lesson, talking about ways to reduce blood flow without using magic. That was the one really good thing about this class; sometimes it wasn't all about magic and spells, and that usually meant he had an advantage over the purebloods who were used to reaching for their wands every time they got a paper cut. When Storm asked about leg injuries, Ethan had his hand up before he even realized it.

"Have them lie down, sir, or help them down. Then elevate the leg the same way, over the heart. And keep applying pressure, of course."

Noah, in a seat as close to the front as he could manage, looking up to the front with interest. His eyes widened slightly in surprise as the professor cut himself to demonstrate, quickly shifting into a wince at the sight of the wound.

Were they going to have to harm each other? That was a bit frightening... though probably doable. He looked about at the others' reactions for a moment before looking back to the professors. Healing magic, eh? How many times had his dad done this exact spell.

He looked down to his arm for a moment as the others started to discuss various other ways that the blood could be stopped. Pressure on the wound or ice to lower blood flow would also work, but right now he was more intent on practicing. He drew his wand and began making circles on his arm. After a few rounds he began to whisper the incantation to himself, making himself accustomed to it. "Staima... Staima... Staima..."

He reached into his bag and withdrew a quill, looking over his arm for what he would think of as a safe place. He eventually settled upon the palm of his left hand, believing there to be more safe spots than his actual arm would. He looked up for a moment to collect himself before back down to his hand, moving the quill over to a spot on his left hand between the thumb and index and began to push it into his skin, lightly biting his lip in anticipation of the pain.

It took a few seconds before the blood began to gently flow from under the quill's tip, a bit being drawn into the inkwell. He let out a small breath. He looked down at the prick on his hand, a small bead of blood growing on the spot. He drew his wand once more and circled the spot, a touch of blood clinging to the tip of his wand and leaving a trail where it went. His eyes locked on the spot as he drew his focus towards the wound, his movements stiff from the amount of force he was putting into everything. "Staima!" he said in an attempted whisper, though his voice carrying more than intended.

The bead stopped growing, quivering lightly as he quietly trembled in anticipation of how he did. He raised his hand up to his mouth, sucking off some of the excess before lowering it to observe once more. Everything seemed alright at the moment, the blood flow seeming to not be flowing out of the hole at the very least. He grinned at his apparent success, though was short lived as blood started to slowly flow from the wound once more. He let out a small grunt in annoyance before raising his wand again, his expression much more focused. "Staima" he said again with a tinge of frustration before the wound stopped spouting blood once more.

Auberon observed the children with a bright but keen eye. These tots were a bit more eager - and knowledgeable - than he'd expected them to be. But that just made this more interesting; after all, if they could master this quickly, then the proper thing to do was to foist a tougher problem on them...

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a boy wearing blue - Ravenclaw, it appeared? - piercing his skin with his quill. An eyebrow quirked, he began to walk the rows of desks, looking at their wand movement with a critical eye. Every few students or so he'd seize a child's wrist and wave their arm through the proper movement, and then move on.

He reached the boy with the bleeding hand, and grabbed his wrist as well, lifting the boy's hand up so he could see the tiny drop of blood. "So eager to cut yourself?" He asked, tone half admiration and half mock scolding. "But such a small pen-prick won't do; you can hardly see anything, much less feel it, which is the point of this study..."

Auberon reached for the hilt of his dagger, but in the end he raised his wand. "For those of you who have mastered this - or think you have - it is time to put it to the test. A small cut will do, about half an inch in length, deep enough to draw blood and be painful. If you cannot bring yourself to do it, then Professor Storm or I can assist you."

The hair on the back of Lexi's neck stood on end when she smelled one of her fellow classmate's blood. She wrinkled her nose, ugh, it smelled like rust... and salt... not at all appetizing. It sometimes freaked Lexi out how the most minute smells that were normally untraceable to the human nose were detected by her nose. Most of the time it was harmless, but there are a lot of nasty smells out in the world that she did not want to deal with.

She raised up her wand after practicing the movements and pronunciation of the aforementioned spell. With a swift flick of her wand, a harsh red line appeared on the soft skin in the underside of her arm. Easy to cut meant easy to heal. Right? Well, maybe not.

The blood welled up on the cut, about two and a half inches long, much longer than the Professor had wanted. It burned with the normal pain of a cut, but Lexi's face was solid as she watched the blood spill over. Before any more could drip out, she readied her wand. "Staima!" She said forcefully, swooshing the wand over the injury. Like the teacher had shown, the blood seemed to flow from broken vein to broken vein. Intrigued, Lexi watched with a hint of a smile. It still sort of hurt, nothing terrible, but it was so fascinating.

"Alice, check this out!" She said, showing off her wound to her friend. It was so cool! "Isn't it crazy? The cut is still there but the blood is doing all sorts of neat things!"

Ted pursed his lips, still not liking the tone that the visiting teacher took with them, nor the scare tactics he'd been using for the lecture, even if they were effective at grabbing attention. Only a few students seemed willing to give the spell a try right off the bat, and who could blame them? Hurting yourself on purpose just to test a spell you weren't sure would work...blimey. No wonder the Drumstrangers were all bunch of nutters.

He knew a cutting spell and severing charm off the top of his head, but unlike Lexi he'd yet to master either of them, at least not well enough that he'd be willing to take them to his own skin. Luckily, he still had his Potions kit in his bag from yesterday. Ted dug out his chopping knife and laid the blade against the palm of his left hand, in the fleshy part between the thumb and pointer finger. The skin gave way with only a bit of pressure, red blood bubbling up a second later.

Ted traded the knife for his wand, circling the wound. "Staima. St-ai-muh."

There was no visible magic, which was the first sign he'd not gotten it completely right. His thumb tingled, as though suddenly aware of the liquid moving just beneath the surface of his skin. The blood slowed, but did not stop. A thin trail, barely wider than a quill-tip, trickled down the curve of his hand, leaving one, two, three drips on the desk.

Ted peered at it, trying to see if he'd gotten any of the spell to work at all. It was too thin, though. He couldn't tell. But the tingling sensation, mixed with Lexi's comments to Alice a few desks away, sparked and odd thought in Ted's mind. Maybe, with a little concentration, he could fix more than just the flow of blood?

"Knitting flesh together is a more difficult feat than most might imagine," the visiting Professor had said. But that was for normal people using normal spells. He wasn't normal. He could change the color of his skin on a whim. Once he got older, with more practice, he'd be able to change his entire body, rearranging everything from the bones out while adding and removing scars at will. And it was only a tiny cut. Who was to say he couldn't pull it off?

The tingle sensation wore off and the normal blood flow returned. Ted raised his wand again, this time picturing new skin sliding over the wound the same way new hair spread in when he grew it out. "Staima!"

The tingle returned, this time accompanied by a soft magical glow. The blood stopped flowing and, for a second, Ted thought he could see how it worked, with the blood staying in its veins in spite of the broken walls. Then his skin closed over the wound, leaving only a thin pinkish-yellow scar.

Ted let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He grinned, but it didn't last. The moment his concentration broke, the new skin -- still too thin and too raw to hold itself together -- tore like wet parchment, splitting a half-inch longer than the previous cut. It stung like the dickens and Ted swore through his teeth. "Ow! Blisters, that hurt." On instinct, he put his mouth over the wound and tasted even more blood than before. Brilliant. Just brilliant.

Alice looked over at Lexi who was showing off her bloody arm. Alice smiled, the distress still showing on her face. She nodded, before gulping. It was either do it herself, which would be an issue to see herself bloody. And what if the spell didn't work? What if things didn't end alright? What if she couldn't stop bleeding? But was it really worth it not to participate in the lesson? The last thing she could ever want would be to lose credit!

Seeing Lexi bloody forced Alice to flash back. No, Alice. No. Don't let your mind go there. Everything's fine. Lexi is fine. The attack was like, five months ago. She'd be dead by now if everything wasn't okay. Alice took a deep breath. She really wasn't comfortable with this lesson. And she knew what she had to do, even if she didn't want to.

Alice got up from her desk, crossing across the room, until she stood in front of the professor. "Professor?" She asked. Alice looked up, feeling small. "Sir, I don't feel very comfortable hurting myself. It reminds me of the summer. Sir, may I please write an essay instead?" Alice said.