Jack, not Jackson

Chapter 32: The Classroom

Jack Frost: POV
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Jack Frost had seen battles. His being was marked with them both mentally and physically. Hell, both externally and internally. (Damn heart)
He survived hell and torture but nothing. I repeat nothing, could get him prepared for his class tomorrow.

He may have been panicking.
Now, you wouldn't have been able to tell that by looking at him. His icy stern features were set on default after so many years of building walls that he looked the picture of calm. self control.
..
Inside was a bit more like four different types of panic wielding flame throwers as a klaxon alarm sounds in the background, 90% of the interior is on fire and the only hose is equipped with gas instead of water.

..Right.
Jack got up from his place by the desk and moved to open the window. Himadri might want to perch there to visit. No more resting, It was time to get back on task.

Frost turns around and immediately groans internally, though the only physical evidence of his feelings was a small sigh. Meeting Harry had put a setback in the schedule to redo the classroom when he had already had no time to waste.

Jack called on the water in the air, feeling it freezing as his mind touched it. With a flick of his wrist the moisture turns to mist and begins to shimmer, almost like a mirage might. Closing his eyes, Frost listens to his own heartbeat. When he feels ready, he meticulously focuses on each item in the room.

Desks, quills, ink pots, cupboards, a random empty cage, books (the ones he didn't chuck out the door) and a few potions and ingredients. Frost had even put some mint and lavender in gilded metal boxes and placed them outside each window to help get rid of the slightly cool damp smell.

Opening his eyes, Frost sees everything arranged neatly towards the front of the room. Desks evenly spaced in front of the board and his own desk, quills resting by ink pots, a blank leather notebook resting on each desk, and most importantly, a massive empty space at the back of the classroom.

Jack spent four more hours slowly dragging poles, cement buckets and cupboards around the classroom. He also placed a giant weaved bamboo mat on the floor at the back of the class. It was lunch time when he stood back and looked at what he'd accomplished so far.

Now, if someone from camp half blood had been watching, they would be astonished to see a very traditional, Percy-like troublemaker grin grace the rather scarred face of Jack Frost. Practically beaming with a radiance of doom that would make any self respecting teacher or adult shudder.

It was over, half a second after it had begun. But it had happened, for the first time in close to 3000 years.
The ice was cracking.