Jack, not Jackson

Chapter 36: "Practical half"

-that way, second class period can be focused entirely on the practical explications of the spells you reach them."~Headmaster Dumbledore.
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Practical. Practical, Dumbledore said. Well is it practical that these kids had seen battle? That none of them had received counseling after going through what they had?

Was it practical that some of them had seen friends and family die? That it was likely they would forever be someone who had a Before and an After?

No one should have a Before and an After, which was almost always caused by a traumatic event, and yet, here. In a classroom of seventeen and eighteen year olds. There were ruins.

Jack had gently pulled the grieving teens from their confining desks and let them all huddle together on the floor sharing stories and tears.
The large area he had cleared at the back of the classroom wasn't just for sparring.

Frost watched the group protectively. A flash of blonde reminding him of Jason, a frantic gesture, of Leo's restlessness. It had been awhile since he had seen such a large group to remind him of his camps.

Of course there had been young soldiers in the wars he had fought before, but this instance was closer to home then Jack was used to.

They were a group of kids with abnormal powers, hiding from the rest of the world in a magical dome for protection, with a gray-haired old teacher -granted theirs wasn't a centaur-, trying to survive whatever came to fight them.

Waaay too many similarities.

Jack did not try to rouse the group into doing what they were "supposed" to be doing. He had never actually planned to listen to Dumbledore. History had proven he really didn't do well with authority figures.

Generals, kings, gods, promodials..That one bossy giant that put his friend in a wedding dress, and many, many more.

As the time came for the second class to end, Frost was very attentive to each individual. He was reading and assessing their expressions, body language, and magic fluctuations. He didn't want to force them to stop talking if it would do more harm then good but finally, the class looked calm.

Not completely healed. But open emotional wounds were actually starting to scab. It was now or never to get them to their next class sort of on time but Jack to loathe to disturb them.

Unfortunately another student noticed the time and yelped. "It's okay." Jack called softly. "I've been watching the time, it's all right. I'll give you all excuse notes for your next classes if necessary." The Hufflepuff relaxed.

Jack walked silently over to the group and sat on a short stool at the edge of the huddled circle. They shuffled to face him. He smiled internally when he noticed that was all they did. No scrambling to cover tears stains or stand in the presence of their Professor.

After taking this in, Jack Frost spoke.
"Do you feel ready for your next class?"
At first no one spoke, but the hesitation was much shorter then it had been at the beginning of the class. They each looked around and gave each other reassuring smiles when they noticed some who were unsure.
"I think we'll all go to our next class Professor."
A Gryffindor girl said, answering for everyone.

Jack, with a ghost of a smile, looked each student in the eyes as he answered.
"Okay. That's your choice. Just know that it's okay if you aren't. I'm not going to push you. Some heal best keeping routines. Some don't. You will each heal differently but don't be afraid to heal together. Go ahead if you're ready. Just don't push yourself if you're not."

In murmured voices of comfort to one another, the students rose and began to gather their things. Wands and books, quills, and other items. Including journals that Frost had put personalized notes of support in for each student. Though no one had discovered them yet.

Jack had ghosted silently to the door and was waiting there when the students got ready to file out. He had a stack of tardy excuse papers in his hands.

The students lined up to receive the notes but before he handed out the first one his looked over his class again and said.

"The first lesson I want you to take away from this class is that.
You can train hard, you can fight hard, you can live hard.
But remember. You all house memories of a time that you think you should have tried harder for one reason or another. Let yourself heal. Please."

He then handed out the notices without another word.

Later, his first class would reflect on how he appeared. Cold, distant, young. And even though nothing had physically changed about the new Professor during that first class. They had all left wondering how they had ever thought that.
That wasn't coldness. It was broken, like them.
That wasn't distance. It was memories, like theirs.
That wasn't youth. It was too much life lived too soon, just like they had.