Isa's New Job
It was discomfiting, coming home to an empty house. Lea stayed up at Hogwarts, especially midweek, and although Isa and Angua were still what the office termed 'an item', they hadn't got as far as living together. She visited, or he visited, but it was usually over weekends, and quietly, Isa felt their relationship had become routine rather than continued mutual interest.
He checked the time on the wristwatch Lea had bought him a couple of years ago, an analogue one because he'd had three digital ones and they'd all gone blank after a week; Even had suggested it was magical interference, both the fact that Isa was a wizard, and that he lived in the centre of a solely wizard village within view of Hogwarts. It was probably too much for the technology to take. Then he sat down to write Lea a quick note before going upstairs to gently wake Athena. She was getting on a little, now; Isa's mother had bought her for him when he first started at Hogwarts, and Isa had asked, recently, what the average lifespan of a wizard's owl was because she was starting to visibly slow down.
He'd been assured she still had a good few years left in her before he had to start worrying about that.
He stroked the backs of his fingers down her feathers and spoke, softly, “Morning old girl.” Athena peered at him out of one, grumpy looking eye, and Isa was reminded of some of the looks he'd had off Even in his animagus form, over the years. “I know it's early,” he said, “for you, but I want you to take this up to Lea for me.” He offered her the envelope, and he'd have sworn the bird rolled her eyes before sitting upright and ruffling her feathers, as if shaking herself awake. When she took the envelope, he smiled. “Thank you.”
“Rough day at the office?” Lea asked, casually, as he walked into the three broomsticks and found Isa waiting for him, drinks already ordered. Isa had a glass of firewhisky, which usually meant he'd had a long day.
“Don't ask,” Isa replied, and pushed Lea's drink towards him. Then he offered Lea a weary smile, “What about your day? How are Gryffindor doing in the cup?” He asked, a little more brightly.
It was Lea's turn to cringe and reply, “Don't ask.” Isa winced in sympathy as Lea explained, “Big match against Hufflepuff tomorrow and the goalie's in the hospital wing, one of the beater's got a match ban in the last game for rising to provocation, and today the Seeker landed herself detention with Inferius.” Lea frowned and shook his head. “You should have seen Braig's face when Inferius came into the staff room crowing about it today; I swear he nearly jinxed him. Then, well,” he grinned at Isa, a lopsided and cheeky grin, “you know what Johnson's like; he docked fifty points from his own house. Now, half the team tomorrow is going to be second string, and if they don't win tomorrow, Slytherin take the top of the board.”
“Hojo's a cheating bastard,” Isa said, as if pointing out the painfully obvious.
“Yeah, I got that memorised,” Lea said, and delighted in the momentary scowl from Isa. “So go on, what made yours so bad?”
Isa shook his head. “The job's just starting to get depressing. One of the werewolves on our register killed himself today, and we got a call from St Mungo's about a five year old with a suspected bite.”
Lea cringed in sympathy. “No wonder you're on the hard stuff.”
Isa laughed, quietly, and looked into his glass before he looked up at Lea again and quipped, “No, this is just steeling myself for an evening with you.”
Lea kicked him under the table, but he was grinning as he did. “You're a horrible friend, Isa.”
“I've always been a horrible friend; it's one of the things you love about me.” He smiled, “You'd worry if I was nice to you.”
Lea grinned in response, and then shrugged one shoulder. “Well, if you're looking to get out, Luxord's leaving at the end of this year; the Divination job will be up for grabs. You were always awesome at that, got it memorised.”
“If you say that one more time this evening, Lea, I'll langlock you.” Isa smiled, then, “And you can't be awesome at Divination unless you're actually a Seer, and even then you can't control it. All the school subject teaches is the methods and an understanding, or it should. You can't teach an innate ability; only about it.”
“That's what I mean,” Lea said, with a bright smile, “you actually paid attention in those classes, and don't think I haven't seen you reading girl's palms when you're hitting on them.”
Isa cleared his throat, and Lea was delighted to see that his cheeks had taken on a bit of colour; proof that he was embarrassed. “You'd be good at it.” He shrugged, and flashed Isa an old fashioned Lea grin, all mischievous amusement, “And you'd get to hang out with me, and finally see the inside of the staffroom.”
“I'll think about it,” Isa said.
*****
“Isa Selwyn,” Ansem said, after Isa answered the door to him, “you have grown a lot since I last saw you.”
“Headmaster,” Isa said, letting the man in.
“You've applied for the Divination post,” Ansem said, as he walked inside Isa's home. “I admit, it isn't the subject I'd have expected you to apply for.”
Isa smiled, faintly. “Potions, Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Transfiguration are all taken,” he pointed out, “and I was quite good at Divination at school.”
“You wouldn't prefer to wait for Professor Hojo to retire?”
“No, sir,” Isa said, gesturing towards a seat for Ansem and waiting for him to take it before sitting himself and then offering, “tea?”
“Yes, thank you,” Ansem replied. He watched as Isa conjured a teapot and cups, and some scones s he spoke, “Professor Cole tells me you're adept at palmistry.”
Isa bit his lip, pausing in his spell-work before he gave a slight nod and added, “More adept at astrology and haruspicy, actually, but people object if you start gutting chickens at parties.”
It earned him a smile from the headmaster, who took one of the scones and applied jam and clotted cream to it. “So explain to me your approach to the subject. You are not a Seer, so what can you bring?”
“Sight isn't something that can be taught regardless,” Isa pointed out, “whether I was one or not, no one will be able to teach students to See if the ability is not already there, and even for those who can See, it is not something they can control.” He smiled a little as Ansem watched him. “The subject is still important, even if the ability cannot be taught, because without an understanding of the subject people can make very stupid decisions based upon prophecy.”
“Are you suggesting that fate isn't set?” Ansem asked, giving Isa a critical look.
“Thousands of prophecies are kept in the Ministry, made by thousands of genuine Seers, and the vast majority of them have never come true, nor do we know whom they concern. Whether Fate is predetermined or not, prophecies are a very bad way for the average person to live their life.”
Ansem nodded, once, and then asked, “And you would intend to teach students that?”
Isa smiled, a little. “It's only personal responsibility and acceptance of the fact your decisions are not made for you, unless you allow them to be.” He flashed Ansem a wider smile and added, “As well as an understanding of the basic tricks of the trade, which uses stars or the colour of a chicken's liver, or the order of a deck of cards as cues and symbols, but they're not the thing itself. The discipline for non-Seers requires a developed understanding of other people and yourself, how the past informs someone's decisions, and how those could inform the future. It's less about telling the future and more about reading people.”
Ansem looked to be considering something for a moment before he commented, “You sound quite passionate, Mr Selwyn.”
“I find the topic interesting,” Isa admitted.
“Well, that seems to cover your approach to the subject” Ansem said, draining his tea cup and handing it to Isa, “now show me how you work.”
*****
“And this,” Lea said, posing like a muggle quiz show girl showing of a prize and clearly enjoying himself, “is the staff room.”
“I spent seven years at this school, Lea, I know where the staff room is.”
“Yeah, but this is the first time you'll get to look inside,” Lea pointed out, with a bright grin.
“Who goes there?” One of the gargoyles asked.
“Intruders,” the second one replied.
“Teachers, actually, got it memorised?” Lea corrected.
“We know you are,” the first one said.
“But what about him?” Finished the second.
“I'm a teacher now, too.” Isa answered, calmly.
“A likely story,” sniffed the second gargoyle.
“We've heard that one before,” pointed out the first.
“From you, as I recall,” added the second.
“This school's going downhill if they've hired you as a teacher as well,” the first said, huffily.
“We thought he was bad enough,” agreed the second.
“You said the same thing when I got made a teacher,” called a familiar voice from behind Isa and Lea. Isa turned around to see Braig ambling lazily along the corridor. “Now let 'em in before I diffindo the both of you.”
“Hiring you was the start of it all,” said the first as it dropped its guard from the door.
“Bloody Gryffindors,” agreed the second, following suit.
Isa blinked, looked at Lea, and then turned his attention to Braig. “They have a problem with Gryffindors?”
“Only ones they have run ins with,” Braig said, cheerily, as he slipped past Lea and Isa and into the staff room, leaving the door open for them both to follow. He flashed Lea and Isa a grin before he explained; “You weren't the only Gryffindor brats in years gone by to try and get past the gargoyles.”
The staff room was... disappointing. When they'd been kids, Lea and Isa had imagined house elf servants and fancy drapery and probably firewhisky on tap, since Professor Johnson was there, it didn't seem right without the firewhisky. Instead it was a jumble of mismatched old chairs, some tables, a fireplace, and random odds and ends, like an old wardrobe in one corner, and a pile of moth-eaten robes next to it.
There was also Even, hunched over a table and muttering to himself as he worked on some papers.
Lea noticed where Isa's attention was fixed and grinned. “Yeah, he's always like that at this time of year.”
“I'd gathered,” Isa answered and looked around as a ball of wadded newspaper sailed through the air and bounced off the back of Even's head.
“Do that once more, Braig, and you'll be eating it.” Even was, apparently, not distracted enough to fail to notice where the missile had originated.
“Then stop being boring and say hi to the fresh meat,” Braig replied, grabbing a chair that was over by a window, off on its own, and dragging it, noisily, nearer to the fire before collapsing into it.
“He's gonna go mad,” Lea said, shaking his head and trying really hard to suppress a grin.
“Let him,” Braig replied, shrugging as he swung his legs over the arm of the chair.
“Who will?” Isa asked.
“Professor Hojo,” Even answered, “Braig takes it upon himself to torment the man, when he fails to torment me. Try not to follow suit.”
Lea grinned, widely. “That's Inferius's own special chair that no one else is allowed to sit in.”
“Oh,” Isa said, understanding but not really reacting, “I remember you saying.”
Another teacher entered then, in a pink dress and big brown boots that clomped as she walked. Isa recognised her; she'd been there when he'd been a student. “Miss Gainsborough?” He asked, politely.
“Mmhmm,” she nodded, pleasantly, and then looked at him again, “Selwyn, isn't it? Isa?”
“That's right,” he answered.
“You can call me Aerith now,” she said, smiling brightly at him. She was younger than Isa had expected, or maybe she'd just seemed a lot older to him when he was only a teenager. “So you're taking over from Luxord?” She asked.
“Yes,” Isa answered, feeling momentarily awkward to speak like this to someone he'd only ever known as a teacher.
“Divination's going to be a popular class this year,” she said, and smiled at him cheekily.
“Is it?” Isa asked, completely blank.
“Especially with the girls,” Aerith added, and then sat down next to Even while Isa cleared his throat and hoped to hell he wasn't blushing. It didn't help that Lea broke into laughter.
*****
His official introduction came on September the first when Ansem formally introduced him to the student body. The students seemed as uninterested in a new member of staff as Isa had remembered being back when he was a student, but it was stranger to observe the feast from the teacher's table instead of Gryffindor's own. Lea sat on one side of him, and Professor Curtis sat on the other. She'd been as scary as Isa remembered at first, until he told her about his difficulty with digital watches, and then they had an interesting conversation about the effects of magic on muggle technology.
Isa's first class was a group of third years, three quarters of which were female. He'd taken the class in one of the downstairs classrooms, viewing the tower room as something that went with the trade of a muggle medium, or even a wizard one, but that wasn't useful to teaching the subject.
“Chriomancy, or Palmistry,” he began, “is the art of reading hands, not just the lines, but the proportions and shape. You should all have Practical Chiromancy with you,” he said.
It was easy after that, getting the students to first find the key lines on their own hands, and then explaining some of the easier to spot indicators demarked in a person's hand, such as a large mount of venus indicating a good lover, which earned a few titters and some interested murmurs, and some of the theories on the lengths of fingers in relation to each other.
Then he called for a volunteer. A couple of eager hands went up, and one more hesitant hand followed. Isa chose the hesitant one, asking her to come to the front, and then for everyone else to come around and watch as he showed how it was done.
He could feel eyes on him, and the heated glow in his student's cheeks as she sat down across from him at the desk and he took her hand, stroking his fingers over her palm before giving her a reassuring smile. “This won't hurt,” he said, but she only blushed deeper.
He traced the lines in her palm as he explained them to the class, and to her, noting the hatched effects, and the points at which lines intersected, pointing out the various mounds, and explaining their meanings. Every time he said something he checked with the girl to see her reaction, gauging how accurate she thought it was. Before long her blush had faded away, and her attention was rapt, as was most of the rest of the class. A couple of the boys hung towards the back, where Isa doubted they could really see; he thought he could spot the kids that had chosen the class because they thought it would be easy already.
He stroked the girl's hand again, showing its flexibility and explaining what that indicated about her, and watching her smile with pride to be told she was open-minded and trusting, and then he broke the spell, sitting back and letting go of her hand to tell his class, “So your homework for next time will be a sketch of your own hands with all the important lines and mounts marked out, as well as the condition of them.”
Then there was a groan from the class, and Isa smiled.
He met Lea in the staff room later on, glancing over to see Hojo sneering at Braig, and Braig, maturely, responding by raising a fist, and then, very slowly, waving his hand mystically over his hand, extending his middle finger before throwing Hojo a grin.
“Heard your first lessons went well,” Lea said, as Hojo could be heard, in the background, calling Braig an 'insufferable cretin'.
“I like to think so,” Isa agreed, smiling faintly.
“What did you do to Magrat,” Lea asked, “she's had her head in the clouds more than usual since your class.”
“I read her palm, as a demonstration,” Isa answered.
Lea looked at him, flatly. “That's your flirting technique,” he said, flatly.
“Not always,” Isa replied, “and it's relevant to the class.”
Lea paused and then grinned. “No wonder she's had her head in the clouds. There's been giggling.”
Isa raised an eyebrow. “Giggling?”
Lea nodded, and grinned wider. “I think they like you, if it helps. Not that it's a surprise when you've been reading their palms. When can I have mine read?” He was teasing now, Isa could tell.
“When you buy me a drink,” Isa replied.
They were distracted when a flaming paper airplane sailed between them, coming from Hojo's direction, where his wand was still pointed at now empty air, and Braig was failing miserably at looking innocent.
Isa looked back at Lea. “I remember when he'd have given us detention for doing that.”
“Yeah,” Lea agreed, “he's a hypocrite. On the other hand,” he flashed a brighter grin and shrugged, “he can't put us in detention now, can he?”
He checked the time on the wristwatch Lea had bought him a couple of years ago, an analogue one because he'd had three digital ones and they'd all gone blank after a week; Even had suggested it was magical interference, both the fact that Isa was a wizard, and that he lived in the centre of a solely wizard village within view of Hogwarts. It was probably too much for the technology to take. Then he sat down to write Lea a quick note before going upstairs to gently wake Athena. She was getting on a little, now; Isa's mother had bought her for him when he first started at Hogwarts, and Isa had asked, recently, what the average lifespan of a wizard's owl was because she was starting to visibly slow down.
He'd been assured she still had a good few years left in her before he had to start worrying about that.
He stroked the backs of his fingers down her feathers and spoke, softly, “Morning old girl.” Athena peered at him out of one, grumpy looking eye, and Isa was reminded of some of the looks he'd had off Even in his animagus form, over the years. “I know it's early,” he said, “for you, but I want you to take this up to Lea for me.” He offered her the envelope, and he'd have sworn the bird rolled her eyes before sitting upright and ruffling her feathers, as if shaking herself awake. When she took the envelope, he smiled. “Thank you.”
“Rough day at the office?” Lea asked, casually, as he walked into the three broomsticks and found Isa waiting for him, drinks already ordered. Isa had a glass of firewhisky, which usually meant he'd had a long day.
“Don't ask,” Isa replied, and pushed Lea's drink towards him. Then he offered Lea a weary smile, “What about your day? How are Gryffindor doing in the cup?” He asked, a little more brightly.
It was Lea's turn to cringe and reply, “Don't ask.” Isa winced in sympathy as Lea explained, “Big match against Hufflepuff tomorrow and the goalie's in the hospital wing, one of the beater's got a match ban in the last game for rising to provocation, and today the Seeker landed herself detention with Inferius.” Lea frowned and shook his head. “You should have seen Braig's face when Inferius came into the staff room crowing about it today; I swear he nearly jinxed him. Then, well,” he grinned at Isa, a lopsided and cheeky grin, “you know what Johnson's like; he docked fifty points from his own house. Now, half the team tomorrow is going to be second string, and if they don't win tomorrow, Slytherin take the top of the board.”
“Hojo's a cheating bastard,” Isa said, as if pointing out the painfully obvious.
“Yeah, I got that memorised,” Lea said, and delighted in the momentary scowl from Isa. “So go on, what made yours so bad?”
Isa shook his head. “The job's just starting to get depressing. One of the werewolves on our register killed himself today, and we got a call from St Mungo's about a five year old with a suspected bite.”
Lea cringed in sympathy. “No wonder you're on the hard stuff.”
Isa laughed, quietly, and looked into his glass before he looked up at Lea again and quipped, “No, this is just steeling myself for an evening with you.”
Lea kicked him under the table, but he was grinning as he did. “You're a horrible friend, Isa.”
“I've always been a horrible friend; it's one of the things you love about me.” He smiled, “You'd worry if I was nice to you.”
Lea grinned in response, and then shrugged one shoulder. “Well, if you're looking to get out, Luxord's leaving at the end of this year; the Divination job will be up for grabs. You were always awesome at that, got it memorised.”
“If you say that one more time this evening, Lea, I'll langlock you.” Isa smiled, then, “And you can't be awesome at Divination unless you're actually a Seer, and even then you can't control it. All the school subject teaches is the methods and an understanding, or it should. You can't teach an innate ability; only about it.”
“That's what I mean,” Lea said, with a bright smile, “you actually paid attention in those classes, and don't think I haven't seen you reading girl's palms when you're hitting on them.”
Isa cleared his throat, and Lea was delighted to see that his cheeks had taken on a bit of colour; proof that he was embarrassed. “You'd be good at it.” He shrugged, and flashed Isa an old fashioned Lea grin, all mischievous amusement, “And you'd get to hang out with me, and finally see the inside of the staffroom.”
“I'll think about it,” Isa said.
*****
“Isa Selwyn,” Ansem said, after Isa answered the door to him, “you have grown a lot since I last saw you.”
“Headmaster,” Isa said, letting the man in.
“You've applied for the Divination post,” Ansem said, as he walked inside Isa's home. “I admit, it isn't the subject I'd have expected you to apply for.”
Isa smiled, faintly. “Potions, Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Transfiguration are all taken,” he pointed out, “and I was quite good at Divination at school.”
“You wouldn't prefer to wait for Professor Hojo to retire?”
“No, sir,” Isa said, gesturing towards a seat for Ansem and waiting for him to take it before sitting himself and then offering, “tea?”
“Yes, thank you,” Ansem replied. He watched as Isa conjured a teapot and cups, and some scones s he spoke, “Professor Cole tells me you're adept at palmistry.”
Isa bit his lip, pausing in his spell-work before he gave a slight nod and added, “More adept at astrology and haruspicy, actually, but people object if you start gutting chickens at parties.”
It earned him a smile from the headmaster, who took one of the scones and applied jam and clotted cream to it. “So explain to me your approach to the subject. You are not a Seer, so what can you bring?”
“Sight isn't something that can be taught regardless,” Isa pointed out, “whether I was one or not, no one will be able to teach students to See if the ability is not already there, and even for those who can See, it is not something they can control.” He smiled a little as Ansem watched him. “The subject is still important, even if the ability cannot be taught, because without an understanding of the subject people can make very stupid decisions based upon prophecy.”
“Are you suggesting that fate isn't set?” Ansem asked, giving Isa a critical look.
“Thousands of prophecies are kept in the Ministry, made by thousands of genuine Seers, and the vast majority of them have never come true, nor do we know whom they concern. Whether Fate is predetermined or not, prophecies are a very bad way for the average person to live their life.”
Ansem nodded, once, and then asked, “And you would intend to teach students that?”
Isa smiled, a little. “It's only personal responsibility and acceptance of the fact your decisions are not made for you, unless you allow them to be.” He flashed Ansem a wider smile and added, “As well as an understanding of the basic tricks of the trade, which uses stars or the colour of a chicken's liver, or the order of a deck of cards as cues and symbols, but they're not the thing itself. The discipline for non-Seers requires a developed understanding of other people and yourself, how the past informs someone's decisions, and how those could inform the future. It's less about telling the future and more about reading people.”
Ansem looked to be considering something for a moment before he commented, “You sound quite passionate, Mr Selwyn.”
“I find the topic interesting,” Isa admitted.
“Well, that seems to cover your approach to the subject” Ansem said, draining his tea cup and handing it to Isa, “now show me how you work.”
*****
“And this,” Lea said, posing like a muggle quiz show girl showing of a prize and clearly enjoying himself, “is the staff room.”
“I spent seven years at this school, Lea, I know where the staff room is.”
“Yeah, but this is the first time you'll get to look inside,” Lea pointed out, with a bright grin.
“Who goes there?” One of the gargoyles asked.
“Intruders,” the second one replied.
“Teachers, actually, got it memorised?” Lea corrected.
“We know you are,” the first one said.
“But what about him?” Finished the second.
“I'm a teacher now, too.” Isa answered, calmly.
“A likely story,” sniffed the second gargoyle.
“We've heard that one before,” pointed out the first.
“From you, as I recall,” added the second.
“This school's going downhill if they've hired you as a teacher as well,” the first said, huffily.
“We thought he was bad enough,” agreed the second.
“You said the same thing when I got made a teacher,” called a familiar voice from behind Isa and Lea. Isa turned around to see Braig ambling lazily along the corridor. “Now let 'em in before I diffindo the both of you.”
“Hiring you was the start of it all,” said the first as it dropped its guard from the door.
“Bloody Gryffindors,” agreed the second, following suit.
Isa blinked, looked at Lea, and then turned his attention to Braig. “They have a problem with Gryffindors?”
“Only ones they have run ins with,” Braig said, cheerily, as he slipped past Lea and Isa and into the staff room, leaving the door open for them both to follow. He flashed Lea and Isa a grin before he explained; “You weren't the only Gryffindor brats in years gone by to try and get past the gargoyles.”
The staff room was... disappointing. When they'd been kids, Lea and Isa had imagined house elf servants and fancy drapery and probably firewhisky on tap, since Professor Johnson was there, it didn't seem right without the firewhisky. Instead it was a jumble of mismatched old chairs, some tables, a fireplace, and random odds and ends, like an old wardrobe in one corner, and a pile of moth-eaten robes next to it.
There was also Even, hunched over a table and muttering to himself as he worked on some papers.
Lea noticed where Isa's attention was fixed and grinned. “Yeah, he's always like that at this time of year.”
“I'd gathered,” Isa answered and looked around as a ball of wadded newspaper sailed through the air and bounced off the back of Even's head.
“Do that once more, Braig, and you'll be eating it.” Even was, apparently, not distracted enough to fail to notice where the missile had originated.
“Then stop being boring and say hi to the fresh meat,” Braig replied, grabbing a chair that was over by a window, off on its own, and dragging it, noisily, nearer to the fire before collapsing into it.
“He's gonna go mad,” Lea said, shaking his head and trying really hard to suppress a grin.
“Let him,” Braig replied, shrugging as he swung his legs over the arm of the chair.
“Who will?” Isa asked.
“Professor Hojo,” Even answered, “Braig takes it upon himself to torment the man, when he fails to torment me. Try not to follow suit.”
Lea grinned, widely. “That's Inferius's own special chair that no one else is allowed to sit in.”
“Oh,” Isa said, understanding but not really reacting, “I remember you saying.”
Another teacher entered then, in a pink dress and big brown boots that clomped as she walked. Isa recognised her; she'd been there when he'd been a student. “Miss Gainsborough?” He asked, politely.
“Mmhmm,” she nodded, pleasantly, and then looked at him again, “Selwyn, isn't it? Isa?”
“That's right,” he answered.
“You can call me Aerith now,” she said, smiling brightly at him. She was younger than Isa had expected, or maybe she'd just seemed a lot older to him when he was only a teenager. “So you're taking over from Luxord?” She asked.
“Yes,” Isa answered, feeling momentarily awkward to speak like this to someone he'd only ever known as a teacher.
“Divination's going to be a popular class this year,” she said, and smiled at him cheekily.
“Is it?” Isa asked, completely blank.
“Especially with the girls,” Aerith added, and then sat down next to Even while Isa cleared his throat and hoped to hell he wasn't blushing. It didn't help that Lea broke into laughter.
*****
His official introduction came on September the first when Ansem formally introduced him to the student body. The students seemed as uninterested in a new member of staff as Isa had remembered being back when he was a student, but it was stranger to observe the feast from the teacher's table instead of Gryffindor's own. Lea sat on one side of him, and Professor Curtis sat on the other. She'd been as scary as Isa remembered at first, until he told her about his difficulty with digital watches, and then they had an interesting conversation about the effects of magic on muggle technology.
Isa's first class was a group of third years, three quarters of which were female. He'd taken the class in one of the downstairs classrooms, viewing the tower room as something that went with the trade of a muggle medium, or even a wizard one, but that wasn't useful to teaching the subject.
“Chriomancy, or Palmistry,” he began, “is the art of reading hands, not just the lines, but the proportions and shape. You should all have Practical Chiromancy with you,” he said.
It was easy after that, getting the students to first find the key lines on their own hands, and then explaining some of the easier to spot indicators demarked in a person's hand, such as a large mount of venus indicating a good lover, which earned a few titters and some interested murmurs, and some of the theories on the lengths of fingers in relation to each other.
Then he called for a volunteer. A couple of eager hands went up, and one more hesitant hand followed. Isa chose the hesitant one, asking her to come to the front, and then for everyone else to come around and watch as he showed how it was done.
He could feel eyes on him, and the heated glow in his student's cheeks as she sat down across from him at the desk and he took her hand, stroking his fingers over her palm before giving her a reassuring smile. “This won't hurt,” he said, but she only blushed deeper.
He traced the lines in her palm as he explained them to the class, and to her, noting the hatched effects, and the points at which lines intersected, pointing out the various mounds, and explaining their meanings. Every time he said something he checked with the girl to see her reaction, gauging how accurate she thought it was. Before long her blush had faded away, and her attention was rapt, as was most of the rest of the class. A couple of the boys hung towards the back, where Isa doubted they could really see; he thought he could spot the kids that had chosen the class because they thought it would be easy already.
He stroked the girl's hand again, showing its flexibility and explaining what that indicated about her, and watching her smile with pride to be told she was open-minded and trusting, and then he broke the spell, sitting back and letting go of her hand to tell his class, “So your homework for next time will be a sketch of your own hands with all the important lines and mounts marked out, as well as the condition of them.”
Then there was a groan from the class, and Isa smiled.
He met Lea in the staff room later on, glancing over to see Hojo sneering at Braig, and Braig, maturely, responding by raising a fist, and then, very slowly, waving his hand mystically over his hand, extending his middle finger before throwing Hojo a grin.
“Heard your first lessons went well,” Lea said, as Hojo could be heard, in the background, calling Braig an 'insufferable cretin'.
“I like to think so,” Isa agreed, smiling faintly.
“What did you do to Magrat,” Lea asked, “she's had her head in the clouds more than usual since your class.”
“I read her palm, as a demonstration,” Isa answered.
Lea looked at him, flatly. “That's your flirting technique,” he said, flatly.
“Not always,” Isa replied, “and it's relevant to the class.”
Lea paused and then grinned. “No wonder she's had her head in the clouds. There's been giggling.”
Isa raised an eyebrow. “Giggling?”
Lea nodded, and grinned wider. “I think they like you, if it helps. Not that it's a surprise when you've been reading their palms. When can I have mine read?” He was teasing now, Isa could tell.
“When you buy me a drink,” Isa replied.
They were distracted when a flaming paper airplane sailed between them, coming from Hojo's direction, where his wand was still pointed at now empty air, and Braig was failing miserably at looking innocent.
Isa looked back at Lea. “I remember when he'd have given us detention for doing that.”
“Yeah,” Lea agreed, “he's a hypocrite. On the other hand,” he flashed a brighter grin and shrugged, “he can't put us in detention now, can he?”