In Hildegarde's opinion, Christmas was over. She knew that all those hormone-addled fifteen and sixteen year olds would be still be giddy with Yuletide cheer and New Year celebration. These notions were to be stamped out. Immediately. Professor Austerlitz slammed the classroom door behind her, signalling her own abrupt ending to the general festive joy of December.
"Good afternoon," she almost declared, Professor Austerlitz's cold and icy voice cutting through the large, grand classroom. Every sound made in the chamber echoed throughout the Renaissance-painted domed ceiling. It was an intentional decoration - you could hear a pin drop in the steely silence.

The class was silent.
"In a perfect world, I'd like to ask if you all had a very merry Christmas and New Year, but in all honesty, I couldn't give two flying owls. So let's leave December gossip at the door, shall we?" Professor Austerlitz looked around the class as if daring anybody to object to her wishes, and of course, there were none. Leaning against her desk at the front of the classroom, Hildegarde barely reached the shoulder of most students in this room, but her upright posture and down right terrifying presence commanded an air of authority.

"The History of Magic is endlessly important. Everything we do will become history of some sort. Your behaviour in this establishment: a social history of your generation. Your actions beyond school in the fields of employment: a political and individualist history. The generations that you and your own children shall produce: ancestral history. But why do we study this? Why is the past so important?" Professor Austerlitz paused taking a few steps forward with both hands politely held behind her back. "Because we, as mortal creatures, make the same mistakes over and over again. In my own lifetime I have seen an array of civil struggles, social catastrophes and fatal decisions. Our own war, which was fought in this very school, has shaken our society to its very core. We often hear of how such an atrocious era of our lives would never be repeated again, how we have learnt to keep such injustices at bay. Rubbish. Such hideous acts against wizards and witches have occurred hundreds if not thousands of times in the past, and if we do not really highlight how and why such events happened, then they will happen again, and again."

Professor Austerlitz paused once more, a fleeting moment of silence enveloping the large, circular classroom.
"And who said History of Magic was a stuffy old subject of no real importance?" Professor Austerlitz smirked coyly at the collective of students sat before her before continuing.
"Your course this year is split into three core subjects: the Slavic Wizarding Wars of Eastern Europe, the Goblin Rebellion of 1436, and prominent Witches of Early Modern Times. Today, we shall be focusing upon the initial topic: you shall all sit an exam focused upon the Slavic Wars which will count as fifty percent of your final grade. A big deal, wouldn't you agree?"

The aged scholar gave a flick of her wand, and four pieces of chalk immediately sprung to life, flying from the drawers of her neat and organised desk to the blackboard, carving out a geographical image.
"The first thing we must learn about the Eastern Bloc is how different their entire culture, history and attitude to wizarding law is," Professor Austerlitz explained. Tapping her wand on the desk in front of her, the sticks of chalk immediately flew back into her draw, a fantastically detailed diagram remaining on the board.

On display was a map of the former wizarding territories in Eastern Europe, with Russia dominating much of the board not dissimilar to its monarchist Muggle empire.
"The wizarding Eastern Bloc was divided for years in the early 1800s between Russia, Hungary and Slovakia. The three main powers. Although magical Ministries in countries like Estonia, Poland and the Ukraine existed, they were merely subordinate nations to the greater countries. Their word was law. However, this uneasy equilibrium did not last for long. Can anybody hazard a guess as to why the Slavic Wars began?"

The professor for History of Magic was a no nonsense sort of lady. She was like Storm with boobs. So Callum took his seat near the middle of the room, and kept his trap shut as she babbled on about the importance of history of magic. Disrespecting Professor Austerlitz was different than disrespecting Professor Storm- she was a woman, and he had been taught you treated women a certain way. Besides, Callum was already on the thinnest of ice as it was, and had no reason to put anymore cracks in it.

The whole gist of the speech was the old saying that history repeats itself. It was something everyone knew. This class was just so boring. They ought to find a professor who could make it interesting. If the class wasn't so dull, then perhaps students would do better and pay closer attention.

She ended her little speech with a question. Why did the Slavic wars begin? Callum had no bloody idea, and he didn't really care. Unfortunately he didn't really know enough about the Slavic people to make up some sort of smart ass answer to give to the professor. "My guess would be that Russia, Hungary, or Slovakia tried to push the little guys into doing something they didn't want to do or didn't agree with... Nobody likes a bully, and eventually someone tries to take them down." Callum didn't realize as he said this that was also true in relation to himself. Sasha had tried to take him down. Did that make him Russia and Sasha Poland? Maybe.

Although quite boring in a sense History of Magic was no different than any of his other classes in which he still held very little interest for. In the past Xavier had been fascinated by the subject. He had yearned to discover the ins and outs of ever major Dark Lord that had surfaced in known history. His fascination was bourne not out of curiousity but out of a need to be better. He needed to know where they made their mistakes so that he wouldn't make them. He wasn't shaping up to be the best leader out there right now but he still had two more years of school and much more out in the real world before his power would be truly realized. He wouldn't just be another Tom Riddle turned Voldermort, he would be something so much better.

Xavier sat at his desk, bandanged hands lightly rapping at his piece of parchment while he waited for the class to begin. It was rather interesting that Professor Austerlitz should give them a speech that mirrored Xavier's own thoughts on the subject. History repeated itself and mankind claimed to have learned from their mistakes but life went on and those that came to power soon forgot the ways of the past and before they knew it they were stepping in their predecessors footsteps making all the wrong moves all over again.

With the question being posed to the class Xavier smirked at the response she was given. While not an inaccurate one, or a poor guess by any means, the irony of it all was enough to have him doubled over in laughter. With a smooth composure and a wicked smirk on his lips Xavier turned to the man who at one point had been his best mate, "Such an ironic statement comin from Russia, tell me Knight, has Estonia rebelled against ye yet or has Poland jus done it fer him?" Xavier knew that his friendship with Callum wasn't going to be very long lived. Too many things had happened, both of them had changed too much to retain that boyish camaraderie they once had. There was no sense in delaying the inevitable.

Callum had been under a lot of stress and scrutiny. That one of his own housemates would be such a blatant ass in the middle of class offended him. He and Xavier had been good friends for a while. Undoubtedly they had grown apart- but that didn't mean he had to call him out in the middle of class. Though his anger boiled, Callum simply cast the other boy a friendly smile. "I don't know, Tawse..."

"You're the one that's Hungary for Hufflepuff meat. I'm surprised you even managed to land a girlfriend as marginally acceptable as Dark with how often you like to go slumming. Tell me, Tawse... Is it true that the poorer countries spread lice and other parasites? Or have you not been tested for distemper lately? I'm sure if you talked to the potions professor about it she could whip you up a shampoo for that itch you've got in your knickers these days."

Figaro came in laughing and talking as many of the students do, the quick rush of the hallways between classrooms a fast-paced spigot of talk, a bit of horse-play and precious casual moments between long periods of sitting still.  But Professor Austerlitz's sharp command for order clamped his mouth shut and he proceeded to slip into a state of blank-stared bordom.  It was hard though.  She was speaking very intensely and saying things like 'exam' and 'fifty percent of your final grade' and all that.

He rested his face in his hand, propped up on his elbow.  He didn't know where these countries were or the differences between the 1840s or the 1480s or whenever.  Was he supposed to have read something ...? Probably.  He squinted at the map chalking itself on the board.  He knew Russia (the big one) but not the others. 

When the professor dense lecture paused in its course with a question, Figaro turned in his seat to hear Callum's flip response.  Just as Fig was noticing the irony, Xavier Tawse said it out loud.

Figaro watched in some sort of awe as the nations of Tawse and Knight squared off in some Slytherin civil war.  This week was wierd.  He hadn't had much contact at all with Xavier since November and had no idea what Callum was talking about or why Xavier's hands were bandanced.

"Wait, who're you talking about?" he asked from his seat, a little annoyed.  Did he dare get involved?  "Hufflepuff hasn't got parasites..."

Josh watched quietly as some of his yearmates argued. Honestly, could they not grow up. Josh offered his own answer. "While our esteemed Victoran nation classmates prepare a demonstration of their view of what happened, Wasnl;t that the time when brooms became reasnblty comfortable, so that would hacve aided the ability of the subordibate ministries to break away from the superior ones by making it easier to move their forces around..." Josh said, his voice tailing off at the end.

It was generally very hard to like history of magic.  Everyone accepted this as a maxim - history of magic was probably impossible to pass with a high level of interest.  Jordyn was trying very hard though, especially because this year wasn't solely about goblin rebellions.  That was what really gave her high hopes, and looking at something interesting like Eastern Europe?  She didn't remember ever learning much about them before.

So, as Professor Austerlitz - someone who reminded her very strongly of Professor Storm - though she hoped with an appreciation for the females of the class who could not do laps in heels, goodness!  She sat quietly in the class though, listening as she also looked at the board, tracing the outlines of the countries with her big brown eyes.  They were easily recognizable - though she frowned to realize she had absolutely no idea what the professor was getting at toward the end of the lecture.

What had changed it?  Oh! Oh! Jordyn raised her hand immediately as she started to realize that perhaps the shift in power had something to do with a muggle influence as well.  Unfortunately, she was beat out by Callum who just spoke when he wanted to anyway.  Jordyn sniffed in agreement when he announced that no one liked a bully and wasn't that the truth?  She would have piped in, had Tawse not done it for her, and she leaned back in her seat, her hand slowly lowering.

Naturally, she couldn't get a word in edgewise especially between the fighting and Harcroft speaking up.  She sighed and looked at her textbook, flipping through the pages instead of worrying about them - maybe she would find the answer in one of the chapters... it seemed the most likely explanation...

And so it started, the great war between Slytherin idiots one and two. Honestly she sometimes wondered how Ferguson ended up in that house other than the fact he was a little prissy and pureblooded. She found them all endlessly annoying - at least the ones like Xavier and Callum. They were so full of themselves and quick to get in pissing contests. Even if she agreed with what Xav had said History was dull enough without them getting off track. Besides after everything with Professor Storm the last thing she wanted was to end up in more trouble. Sometimes being a fifth year was just not worth getting out of bed for. They were the most miserable angst ridden bunch of wankers she’d ever met. Of course she included herself in that label. She was just now starting to get back to herself after everything from the Holiday.

Resting her chin in her hand she tried not to openly roll her eyes as Josh. Instead she pretended to scour her text for the right answer - quill poised to underline anything that seemed relevant. Only nothing seemed relevant because she wasn’t actually  reading she was letting her eyes go squiggy and form abstract shapes out of the letters on the page. She spent much of her time in History of Magic doing this. Then later she would read and do whatever she needed to. She simply could not bring herself to care especially not about the war of words from morons without lush vocabularies. Professor Austerlitz didn’t seem the type to enjoy her students openly bickering…or at all.

Peyton was struggling in History of Magic but was determined to bring his marks up to keep his position on the Quidditch team. He couldn't let Bombay boot him off the team again this year, not after winning the last game for his house. So here he was trying desperately to focus on what Austerlitz was talking about. Thankfully Austerlitz was the kind of Professor that demanded your attention even if you weren't prepared to give it. He had no idea what she was talking about but he was hanging onto to her every word trying to make it all make sense. His quill was scribbling away at his parchment regurgitating what she was saying without fully comprehending.

When attention was turned back to the class Peyton was yet again at a loss. How was he suppose to know what started a war in a place he knew nothing about? He had grown up with a muggle mother and learned about stuff like the Nazi's occupation in World War Two. Angelina McCormmick knew nothing about the Slavic Wars and so neither did Peyton.

However he didn't have to give an answer for one was already being given. Much like the rest of his classmates Peyton saw the irony in Callum's answer but he knew better than to point it out to him. He had always assumed that Xavier was friends with Callum, they were often seen together, but having the two of them go back and forth like that made Peyton second guess himself.

Peyton leaned forward as Figaro questioned Callum's cryptic insult. Normally Peyton thought he was a rather dense person. He didn't understand women, he didn't do well in school and his only notable skill was on a broomstick but in the past month he had come to realize that the only other thing at Hogwarts that he knew better than Quidditch was Xavier and while he only recently learned that they were brothers he had always been connected to him by blood.

"He's talking bout that Collins girl mate. The cute short one with those muggle braces on her teeth." Peyton was surprised he actually knew this much about a man he claimed to hate, "Apparently not everyone approved of them dating." He had spoken low enough that hopefully Figaro had heard him but Austerlitz hadn't. He couldn't afford to get a detention this early in the term.

"My guess would be that Russia, Hungary, or Slovakia tried to push the little guys into doing something they didn't want to do or didn't agree with... Nobody likes a bully, and eventually someone tries to take them down." There was an answer from the middle of the classroom, and Professor Austerlitz took a few steps down the aisle of desks. Callum Knight: he wasn't a student she'd expect to be so involved in oral participation, but input was appreciated nonetheless. The aged scholar couldn't help but lace her reply with a tinge of insult however.

"Oh wow," Professor Austerlitz replied in sarcastic shock. "Is that a moment of self-realisation, Knight?" Professor Austerlitz knew more about her students than they realised. After researching her students intensely, she knew all about their role within Hogwarts. "We raise our hand to speak here, my friend. And you'd do well to remember that."

Professor Austerlitz gave Callum a lingering frown before continuing.
"Despite the interjection, that's a very understandable answer. However, the catalyst was a bold and ultimately ruthless move by the Hungarian Ministry. There was a magical invasion of the Ukraine in 1817, pre-meditated and completely out-of-the-blue. Thousands upon thousands of innocent Ukrainian wizards, witches and children were needlessly slaughtered. Kiev, the capital, was soon taken. Rather than help their ally however, a Bulgarian purist sect named the Zashtitnitsite na Krŭvta, or the Defenders of the Blood, used the Ukraine's weakened state to their advantage and launched an assault on both Hungary and their recently-conquered sub-ordinate. This only added fuel to the fire, and the assassination of the Hungarian Minister, Mishka Brog, by the newly-formed Ukrainian Resistance aggravated the situation further."

Professor Austerlitz turned as Xavier Tawse interrupted, ready to explode at the two acts of rudeness. However, she raised an eyebrow, leaning against her desk once more when the two exchanged insults. Listening intently, Professor Austerlitz tilted her head, as if really taking interest in their conversation.
"I'm sure if you talked to the potions professor about it she could whip you up a shampoo for that itch you've got in your knickers these days."

The professor let silence sweep across the classroom, glancing around at the faces of young fifteen and sixteen year olds. This wasn't going to happen. Not in her presence. Professor Austerlitz gripped her wand and raised it.

BAM!

Xavier and Callum's desks both flew into the air, smacking flat against the ceiling in an almighty crack. The roar of wood on marble bellowed through the domed room. Students left right and centre gasped in fright, almost shocked into the air out of their seats. Professor Austerlitz kept her wands raised, sternly frowning at the two boys.
"A small rule I forgot to mention," she spoke sternly, her words fast, prominently and endlessly chilling. "You leave boyish, pathetic arguments at the door. Never waste my time, or anybody else's time with your ridiculous displays of teenage angst and frustration disguised as masculine bravado. I don't want to hear it. We are hear to learn, to develop - not to waste time. Mark my words Tawse and Knight, you'll be thrown out of this classroom before your mother can say 'Merlin'. You will not be missed."

The desks still hanging in the air, as if glued to the sides of the domed ceilings, Professor Austerlitz's eyes flicked around the classroom, focusing on all of them with her stony glare.
"And that applies to all of you. Understood?"

There was nothing like frightening a class into submission. Hildegarde's short fuse and teenage rivalries were a bad combination.

Figaro had tuned into Peyton - a nice chap always - and was about to comment that say that Xav and Ayla was no big deal and that neither of them had any problem keeping clean but then something exploded.

Or so Figaro thought.  Like half of the class, Figaro swore out loud and instinctively covered his head, hunkering down as close to his desk as possible. "Holy sh-!" It took the span of a breath for Fig to get his bearings and realize what had happened.

Austerlitz had happened.  The desks hung eerily against the ceiling as if they'd fallen there in some reverse gravity well.  Figaro didn't know whether to stare nervously at the desks, waiting for them to inevitably fall, keep his eye on Austerlitz lest she kill them all, or take a long look at Xavier and Callum who did not often retreat. 

It was a strange parallel, as Austerlitz's lecture discussed the seemingly random violence of one group over another, international betrayal and the senseless victimization of the defenseless, that the classroom was in the throes of its own hostilities.  Most of this was lost on Figaro, who kept a hand over his mouth trying to stave off any nervous laughter.

Looking at the textbook, Jordyn sighed, glancing over at Sophie to see what she was doing while everything else was going on.  Apparently looking through the text was what sane students were doing while the boys were all going to get involved in whatever it was that they were griping about.  Sure, Callum was a bully, but everyone knew it.  It wasn't like they had to post a major bulletin about it.

They at least got to find out why the Slavic wars had broken out, not that Jordyn had been able to find that anywhere in the text so far.  She frowned, realizing this was going to be a bit heavier reading than she was used to doing in this class.  She should have known the iron fistered woman was going to take matters into her own hands, and certainly that meant childish bickering and petty arguments weren't going to be taken lightly. 

And it certainly wasn't something to talk about at length and have a fight over.  Honestly, Callum caused a scene wherever he went.  Maybe, just maybe, if people did not pay attention to him and let him go about whatever idiocy he was going to go about without indulging him, he would finally shut up. 

Of course, it did not take the blissful quiet of her classmates to silence Callum.  Instead, as a thwack of hard wood against the ceiling, the cracking and splintering that made Jordyn's hair stand on end and a yelp of surprise flee her lips.  Instantly, she clapped her hand over her mouth, and the crack was what silenced the whole class.  Professor Austerlitz was not going to listen to Callum and Tawse's bickering.

She was also going to scare the rest of the class into silence for the rest of class.  Any sound she had in her was caught in the back of her throat and Jordyn nodded at her class wide question, unable to move in any substantial way from her seat.

History of Magic. Another class Mysti didn’t particularly like, because of a strict teacher. Though Storm wasn’t so bad now that she’d gotten on his (hopefully) better side.  Studying really helps you out there.  As for Austerlitz, Mysti found it harder to study history. It just wasn’t something she particularly enjoyed. Obviously she knew it was good to have a grasp on what has happened before you, but she still didn’t like it.

Though this class started out in an interesting fashion.  Two boys she didn’t particularly like were arguing with each other in front of the whole class.  About silly things too.  Though Callum’s mouth saying that no one likes a bully made Mysti giggle a little.  Funny that he would be the one to say that, since he was one of the biggest bullies in the whole of Hogwarts.

BAM

“Geeep!” Mysti squealed and fell out of her chair upon the loud noise.  She was stunned for a moment, then looked up and realized two desks had hit the ceiling.  Quietly, as she didn’t want to ruin the silence Austerlitz had created, Mysti got back into her seat.  She looked to her left and right, at the others, and then back to the professor.  The Hufflepuff girl had a feeling this class period would be difficult.

Xavier's cold blue grey eyes were fixed on the ceiling, his head cocked to the side as he watched some droplets of ink fall from the desk that were defying gravity. No doubt when his desk had been thrown to the ceiling the force of the impact had caused his ink bottle to shatter. Unlike his classmates who seemed to be cowering from Austerlitz' show of power Xavier had raised to his feet and set his jaw ready to take whatever punishment she was going to give him but instead all she did was give them some lame speech about wasting everyone's time.

"You will not be missed."

"An' neither will ye." Xavier spoke coldly and directly. His eyes leveled to the much shorter professor doing the best any fifteen year old angst ridden boy could to stare her down as he took his book bag from off the back of his chair and placed it over his shoulders. Without any other looks given to those around them Xavier turned his back on her and walked out of the classroom.

Once upon a time, History of Magic would have been one of Sasha's preferred classes.  The array of fact gathering, theoretical extrapolation and following the logical trends of history would have been intriguing and easy for the Ravenclaw.  Professor Austerlitz' class would have been one he would have excelled in. 

But, for the first time since he could remember, Sasha was struggling with his academics.  He was still reeling to catch up on the five weeks of classes he'd missed during the previous term and the missed material was impacting his ability to follow the current lectures and discussions in those classes that followed a chronological curriculum.  Even when he was able to follow the material, his focus was wavering at best.  In a strange reversal of roles, where practical, hands on classes had once been his biggest challenge, those classes that got him up and moving were now the ones most likely to keep his mind from wandering or, quite often, simply screeching to a halt all together. 

The later happened more often then not in History of Magic and today was no exception.  When the professor was talking, it was easier - his mind didn't have to think.  All it had to do was hear what was being said and transcribe it in notes on his parchment.  Then, later - during those relatively brief periods of focus, he could go back and review those notes.  When the class turned more towards discussion and the need to write notes faded, the quill turned its efforts to doodling in the margins.  Any second meaning that might have been there in the conversation was lost on Sasha.  He'd been in the midst of adding shading to the most recently doodled sketch when a sudden, loud BAM resounded through the room. 

The loud crack of the wooden desks hitting stone had been far too similar to that of a door flying open by force.  The reaction was reflexive and uncontrollable.  "Scheiße!  Lass mich in ruhe!  Gehe weg!" he shouted, jumping in his chair, upsetting his bottle of ink as he covered his head with his hands.  His heart was racing, uncontrollably, in his chest and his eyes were closed as he braced for whatever strike would come.  He sat, frozen, waiting for the inevitable for several moments until Tawse's cold voice cut through and drew him back to the present.  Taking long, deep breaths, Sasha slowly lowered his hands and grasped the edges of his desk, his eyes still closed firmly as he waited for his gut to untie and his heart rate to return to normal.