Jack Frost POV:
"So, how do you feel about teaching."
The old man said with a slight smirk on his heavily bearded face.
This was rapidly climbing the ranks of weirdest conversations Jack had had this millennia. Right up there with the lady looking for a hovering blue cat at midnight in the middle of nowhere. (Just as Jack had gotten comfy in his tree the old lady had smacked him out of it)
Jack decided to answer in a way that made him sound crazy, which wasn't as hard as it should have been. Maybe then this Dumb Old Bore would leave him in peace.
"Teaching is a necessary evil I suppose. Otherwise you humans would never learn. Not that you do anyway."
The old wizard just chuckled, shook his head and finished his foamy drink. "Why such an objective view eh? Have you never taught anyone anything?"
Watching Frost, you would see something quite odd. An expression become completely devoid of emotion. Which is extremely hard to do. Many try, but almost everyone fails. sliver of rage, or tired, or sadness peeking through.
Not so for Jack Frost. He was a blank slate waiting to be filled in. No memories written in lines, no emotion written in his eyes. On the inside, however, he flinched.
"Of course I've taught others."
Dumbledore cracked a slow smile. As if to say, "there, you see?" But the only thing he said out loud was.
"And was it so bad?
The boy's expression didn't change as he said studied Dumbledore for a moment before answering.
"They all died."
Dumbledore was no longer smiling.
Jack turned back to his frothy drink and places a hand around it before realizing if he leaves his hand there, not only will the drink get cold. It will freeze completely.
He moves his hand onto his staff instead and rubs his thumb against the roughly worn grain as he thinks about all the names of all the people he had trained.
Demigods, warriors, and gladiators. Romans, and Celts, Greeks and Egyptians. None of it mattered. The only place that held every name other then his mind were their graves, if they hadn't worn away yet.
YOU ARE READING
Jack, not Jackson
FanfictionWARNING: this book is about PTSD. Percy is blamed for what happens in the last battle. The deaths of the seven, Nico, Reyna, camp. All of them gone. even Annabeth, who had survived torture in hell with him. As punishment, He is cursed with a type of...
