Dax Fayette - Hufflepuff +5
Fauna Blake - Hufflepuff +5
Grace Eddy - Gryffindor +5
Matty Amherst - Hufflepuff +5
Brett Abraham - Gryffindor +5


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.

Lesson before lunch

---

The Seventh Years were entirely preoccupied with their exams. The last few weeks had been spent cramming curses, counter curses, dates, people and history into their heads for the Defence exams alone, with each passing lesson their Professor becoming more and more impatient with them.

He criticised and singled them out over memory recall, over being too slow, making assumptions. The oldest Hogwart students despaired as they poured over their notes, suffered tests of their work each lesson. Yet, they stuck at it. So determined were a considerable number of the group to become aurors, they were willing to stick with anything he threw at them - literally.

After lessons in theory to cover the written exam, with lectures and quizzing the past few weeks, the students looked both relieved and unnerved by entering the find the classroom desks had been swept aside and the curtains drawn from the May sunlight outside. The occasional slat of sunlight fell between the curtains, and beams of sunlight fell through to the classroom floor, the dust swirling in them.

Professor Storm was already stood on the classroom floor, his academic cloak hanging in its usual place, and his suit jacket over the back of his desk chair. Instead, he stood at the head of the ring in his white shirt and waistcoat - such had become his uniform in the same way theirs was. His wand was between his fingertips behind his back, waiting for the students to form a ring, depositing their things at one side and presenting with their wands.

"Good morning." The Professor addressed them, "Your patroni will be under scrutiny this morning. You will not cast until you are instructed individually." Stepping backwards out of the ring without a word he took a slow walk around the ring until he chanced upon his first victim.

"Fayette," He intoned quietly, stopping behind Dax and addressing the student from just behind his right ear, his left hand gripping the student's left shoulder tightly.

"Vain little idiot you are. You do realise your brother thinks you will amount to nothing - which is almost certainly the case. Eyes front." he hissed, recalling as much as he could about Dax to hand to twist it. His hand gripped the student's shoulder ever tighter right by his neck, intending to inflict discomfort - though instead also reflected his irritation with their progression in the subject. Never happy with what they did, even if it would earn them all O in their NEWTs.

"You may think you have the upper hand against him, but he's twice the man you will ever be. You will amount to nothing. A half-wit gave you a piece of his mind, and you held on to it, Fayette. Oh, don't feel so bad, a lot of people have no talent, but we can see you are going to make a career of it."

Jabbing Dax in the back with his wand, he hissed,
"Fail now - cast."

With a final grip to the teenager's shoulder he let go of his roughly, observing the attempt from behind before prowling the ring again in the dim light. 

DADA had gone from a a fun class, to an annoying one, to a nightmarish one in just a few short weeks, and it was showing on the faces of everyone present. Dion was getting hit harder, of course; Dion was clearly not used to casting a spell oh-so-perfectly and then being criticized for it. Dax didn't have that problem, because his spells were never perfect. They were good, yes, and they did their job - but he lacked the clinical precision of his brother's casting. Dax's spells where more energetic, wild.

That was likely why Ignan chose him first. He tensed the large muscles of his shoulders against the old man's grip, swallowing at Ignan's hissing voice. He tried to hide it, but the old man's words hit home. The look on Dion's face didn't help, as his brother overheard from next to them; after a moment Dax just looked at the floor, eyes half shut. It was true - though Storm hadn't hit on the worse part of it. He'd hold his brother back - Dion wouldn't leave him behind, he knew that. Dax was, however, capable of being an Auror. He'd forced himself to believe that and under Storm's assault he just gritted his teeth and tried his best to maintain that belief.

Storm's order  threw him off, though he knew instantly it shouldn't have, the old bastard. He stepped forward, wand out, and focused, trying to think of something cheerful, something that made him actually happy.

It was harder than he'd thought, no thanks to Storm. Coping mechanisms were such a bother.

He raised his wand after a full minute, taking a deep breath. He'd focussed in on something that seemed simple, but it worked - the memory of when he'd managed to master the Animagi spell, before Dion had done it. He let the triumph fill him, the joy, the sense of the self-worth -

"Expecto Patronum!" He boomed, and his wand erupted with white light. To his dismay it wasn't much more than mist; it wavered as he hesitated - and then he forced himself to focus, channeling the spell as best he could.

The mist curled and took shape, and the large hooves of a shimmering white horse hit the floor. It seperated from Dax's wand, and stood, looking at Storm with the blank stare of a Patroni.

"Hah," said Dax, as quietly as he could.

The Quidditch match was only a few days away, and Fauna was feeling the pressure. That combined with studying for NEWTS and finals, attempting to catch up in Potions and Transfiguration, attending birthday parties, and figuring out what to do about SAWS, Fauna was well primed to crack.

Professor Storm offered them no mercy. She stood in the circle of students, her wand in her hand, watching him with tired but wary eyes. After his very short introduction of the lesson, he swooped behind Dax and whispered something in his ear.

The effect was immediate. Her eyes widened at the expression on Dax's face, but as much as she felt like she was intruding on whatever the professor had told him, she couldn't look away. Dread made the air heavy. One of them was next.

He struggled at first with the spell, and she silently cheered him on, hoping fervently that he would do well. It wasn't just because he was her friend. If he could do it, the rest of them might have a chance.

Fauna let out a breath when the horse patronus galloped across the floor. Dax had succeeded. A glimmer of a smile touched her face, then faded when the professor was on the move once more.

"Took enough time." The Professor snapped at Dax, before selecting his next victim. Left hand falling on Grace's left shoulder, she was a lot more bony and feminine to grasp than Dax had been - almost familiar of something. She twisted as his grip bit in, it almost certainly hurt quite a bit.

Speaking very low into her right ear from behind, he brought forth all he knew about Grace from her, and the other Professors, who could be a surprising source of information.

"Eddy, I expect you'll be running out of the classroom in tears, hoping your friends will follow. No more defence than attention sought, you'll break down in tears before you raise your wand to defend yourself like a child. I suppose that's all we can expect from a Muggleborn..." He tightened his grip, a cruel smirk twisted on his face, and eyes gleaming.

"Only you'll hope those friends will never leave you - given your mother will fail you, leave you and perish." Myrni had mentioned Grace's mother was ill while she and Ignan had played chess once. He'd been a gentleman about it at the time, feeling sorry for the girl and feeling guilty about the detention back in January - but it wouldn't do to be scared of death. The more rational side did feel horrible for using it against Grace at that moment, though the side that rather enjoyed performing the Three Unforgiveables on those amphibians for the fifth years could have used it for worse.

"Cry, Eddy, curl up in a ball and cry because nothing you can do will solve things and you're useless. A failure, and you know it."

He let go of her shoulder, jabbing her in the back with his wand as he had Dax.

"Cast, now." He told her firmly still right behind her. Close enough to smell her.

Grace's gaze had found Fauna's at one point during Storm's mean spirited comments towards Dax and then she watched their Hufflepuff classmate with angst, hoping with all of her might that he would prove the professor wrong. Surely with the rest of the class banding together in support, Dax was going to succeed, right?

When he did, Grace resisted clapping or verbally congratulating him and instead, her gaze went back to Fauna's face and a smile hinted at the Gryffindor's lips. Professor Storm's presence was forgotten momentarily and Grace didn't even think that she might be his next target. In the back of her mind, she had been thinking that maybe Storm was just using Dax as an example and then the rest of the class might be left alone.

Hearing Storm's chilling voice behind her caused Grace's expression to darken. His words to her were no less harsh than they had been to Dax and she was caught off guard by how personal he managed to make them.

She kept her eyes glued to a spot on the wall in front of her, refusing to give Storm the satisfaction of even a glare from her which would clearly indicate her reaction. But her classmates had full view of the wide range of emotions that played out on her face.

The first part of Storm's attempts to break her down contained plenty that she had heard before. How often had she been told that as a Muggleborn she would never amount to anything? That she would never be as good as her pureblooded counterparts--people like Maeve Whitman who had everything handed to them on a silver platter and still took it for granted. This made Grace as angry as it always did and she clenched her jaw with determination, again, wanting to prove Storm and everyone else intent on thinking such things wrong. Yes, she was Grace Eddy--Muggleborn. But she was also one of the most accomplished witches in her year. And that had to mean something.

Grace raised her wand, prepared to speak the words that would cast forth her patronus. But Storm continued to speak and this time his words were like driving a knife into her heart. Her breath caught in her throat and her jaw quivered at the mention of her dying mother. How did he know? Grace had been too proud to tell him or practically any of her professors because she didn't want any excuses. Her mind raced with thoughts about how he could have found out and if they weren't so jumbled she would have been angry or searched harder for someone to blame.

Instead, her mind latched onto his command that she cry. That somehow, all of his malicious words about her mother and the emotions they evoked would only serve to make her a weaker person. But through all of these words and feelings, Grace saw a vision of her mother. Eugenia Eddy was happy and healthy and laughing in a memory where she twirled Grace around as a little girl.

Visibly, Grace took a shudderingly deep breath--one that easily could have meant that she would give into Storm's command to cry at any second. But instead, she found the strength to raise her wand again with confidence and she shouted, "Expecto Patronum!"

From the end of her wand, it looked like a long bright stream emerged, which eventually formed into the long neck of a swan. Graceful wings followed and spread out as if to want to envelop everyone in the room.

Grace released a sigh, but almost as soon as the patronus came, she dropped her wand and hastily stepped away from Storm, too disgusted the words he had spoken to want to remain that close to him.

She moved to stand next to Dax and turned to glare at the professor with her characteristic Grace-like defiance, even if her eyes were teary with emotion that she didn't want him to see.

His next victim was selected swiftly, his mindset now adjusted. Grip tight on Maeve's shoulder, he delighted in leaning over her right to talk to her in her ear.
"Your beauty is your only strength, Whitman." He began, sounding like a mixed compliment, "It will be the first thing a man destroys, and then you will have nothing. They'll tear your face -" Ignan's wand traced just behind her cheekbone on the right side, "destroy you and leave you disgusting. Your father won't be able to look at his own daughter - even your cousin will mock you. She thinks you're lazy, intolerable and dim, you have taken six months to prove her correct in my eyes. You only take these exams to please your keepers, not for yourself. You'll just rely on your face to get you anywhere - and when its gone nobody will want to know you. They'll know its your fault." His grip tightened,

"They'll know it was Whitman who slept her life away with men..." He released her roughly, jabbing his wand in her back and barking the command to cast her patronus.



Round the ring he continued,
"Carter," He spoke into Emily's ear, now in his stride, "Loud mouthed empty head, don't you know that nobody cares what you think? They would rather you kept it to yourself, if only that they couldn't mock you for the demonstration of your lack of intellect. If you were any slower, St Mungo's would consider you clinically dead." He smirked over her shoulder.

"You may deny it, but that only demonstrates your ignorance. Cast."


Gradually patronuses grew out of wands, and a part of Ignan was proud to see them take corporeal form despite his attempts to shake them.

"Ryker," A cruel smirk grew again as he wrestled the young man's shoulder. "You do rely on the luck of the Irish young man. Makes up for the lack of skill. Lazy, bullheaded, fickle, ignorant..." He gave a little sigh, "and that's just what the other Professors speak of you. How you managed to last this year out, who knows. I doubt you do either. Perhaps you've been hanging on the cloak-tails of Eddy too long. You and I both know you wouldn't have been able to work out which of the bottles had the poison, you relied on Eddy again there. I'm sure you'd make a happy spineless pair, I doubt you could do without her. Cast."


The feeling in the room was certainly darkening. He risked them all turning on him the more he pushed. But so close to the exams, none of them appeared to want to risk it. Luckily.

Round to Abraham now,

"What makes you think you'll be a good auror Abraham? You'll never reach your potential, you're destined to be mediocre. No better than the clowns already in that department - if you get that far. No honour, or pride in your role - just the hope to see the glamour and the status. You may think you know what's just - but you can easily be deceived and you'll never be able to tell - you miss the detail."

In retrospect it was proving quite hard to prey on so many victims in one go. But this was only the start of what they'd each experience in their lives - even to date, and in their future years. The ones who wanted to be aurors would have to grow such thick skin, thick enough to glean the important parts, and filter out the insults thrown just to break them down. 

Matty stood stone cold and completely detached. The last month of endless cramming, practice exams and more information than was healthy for him to be reviewing was taking it's toll on him. He was distant and only came to light when in the presence of his girlfriend - fellow Hufflepuff Adelia Delacroix. He watched with darkened eyes as one by one his classmates were verbally attacked then forced to produce a charm that was dependant on a happy mood. He knew that was the whole point of the exercise but he couldn't help but feel sorry. The looks of disgust, anger and fear that swiftly crossed over each face made him sick to his stomach. He wondered how Storm had acquired so much ammunition against them. He seemed to be boring into their minds and pulling out their greatest faults, how they all perceived themselves.

His nerves were shot and his hand clenched and unclenched on his wand waiting for that horrific moment when he would be subjected to whatever Storm had to throw at him. Matty had spent most of his life just accepting what people said of him, he never argued or fought back. More often than not he simply didn't pay attention just let it all roll off his back while he occupied himself with more important things like his studies.

He suddenly wondered if his romance with Adelia had made him weak and vulnerable. Accepting his heart and all the wonderful illogical thoughts that came with being in love was surely leaving enough of an opening in his normally calm cool and collected armour for Storm to pierce him. He felt a shiver run down his spine as he simply awaited his own doom. He doubted that in this condition he'd be able to produce even a silver mist let alone a corporeal patronus.

Brett had been excited to hear they were practicing with Patroni. It was important to joining with the aurors to produce one that was fully formed, and she lined up with the rest of the seventh years, anxious and curious to see what everyone else's patronus looked like. This was going to be fun- or disastrous.

"Go Dax!" she cheered when he produced the white horse, regardless of the way that Storm had snapped, Dax had done a good job. When he returned to the line up, she gave him a playful punch in the arm, hoping he didn't feel too bad about how he had done. Really, a professor ought to encourage you and let you know when you did a good job- not treat you like you were a total failure.

Moments later, she felt Storm behind her. Whispering like he had done to others. Telling her she would never reach her potential as an auror that she was destined to be mediocre. The words didn't affect her. Brett knew that she had busted her ass the last seven years at Hogwarts. Her grades were superb, she was an excellent student. Being an auror was more to her than glamor and status. Brett wasn't like auror hopefuls (at least she liked to think she wasn't).  She had received an O in defense, for Merlin's sake- she wasn't going to be a failure.

Without hesitation, Brett lifted her wand. "Expecto Patronum!" she called out- loudly, clearly. It wasn't a yell, but a firm and confident command. The silver that came from her wand formed into a ram- and it nearly looked solid. And, as the patronus was want to do, it decided it was time to protect- not only Brett, but everyone else (Brett was known as a defender and protector of the weak, a true Gryffindor, and the ram followed her lead). The ram lowered its head, horns pointed at Ignan as it began to charge the room in his direction.

Brought forth to his mind's eye - warm summer sunshine, her laughter, the looks they'd exchange - an augurey burst forth from Ignan's wand and circled Brett's ram. It looked a little pitiful but gave Ignan a moment to step aside as the room filled with the curious glow patroni created. By not attacking her patronus, he hoped she also realised the lesson he was conveying, strength in own confidence.

"Good." He spoke quietly from outside of the circle, it was hard to tell if was genuine praise or a punctuation as he continued round the ring speaking in a hushed tone to each student - as soon as he approached the first the bird dissipated - all happy thoughts forgotten as he dredged up what he could about the worries and academic weaknesses in each of this students.

OOC: Its really tricky to think of ones for each of you - so you do have my permission to decide what he might bring up.

The weaker students, although wrongfooted by his words were heartened by the strength of their classmates.
"With conviction!" He assured the last student who uttered the spell, the grip of his hand on their shoulder turning into a firm pat which could almost have been misconstrued as encouragement.

"Expecto patronem!" he called from just beside them, the bird reappearing again and soaring over the student's heads while their Professor gave a smirk, and walked round.

"I believe you might all have gathered the motive behind this lesson." Professor Storm addressed the class, stepping between two of the students and clasping his hands behind his back, fingers laced.
"Realise this - what I may have spoken to each of you, or made you doubt in yourselves - although are not necessarily my personal beliefs in each of you, but are just my observations of where I can induce negative thought without any magic. Words can be powerful, but it is you who can let them conquer you. Then, there are far many more ways to break a man. For those of you who want to go into the Ministry to protect, you will meet those in our society with no morals, no reasoning. Your courage will be tested, and you will break."

He paused, and the patronus dissipated over Brett's head, the Professor's gaze had fallen on her tiredly. He was thinking of his colleagues when he had been only a matter of years older than these students. The colleagues who had fallen.
"The most important part is knowing how to recover quickly, therefore. Good, very good all of you. I'm disappointed at least one of you didn't dissolve into tears." He smirked and folded his arms in front of him.
"We have covered all the work for your NEWTs now, giving you enough time to revise and practise. This does not mean I am satisfied with progress of any of you. Answers to questions must be at the front of your minds. The capability is in each of you - the dedication and determination, hmph, lacking."

Raising his wand again, he suggested a challenge.
"We discussed the theory of how to imprint a message into a patronus - though it is beyond your studies for NEWTs. However, in challenging yourself to achieve this, you will learn more about your own abilities to command your magic." Raising his wand he brought his own back and it settled at his feet a moment, where it cocked its head as if it was listening.
"Messages are best spoken concisely, with focus - otherwise they can degrade." Raising his eyes from it, and his wand he sent it across the room, where it settled before the students and repeated the message - as he had spoken he had visualised the students to send it to.

Then with a puff, the bird vanished.