NeverBeyondRedemption and I wrote 'Defence Professor Wohl' together. As we agreed, she posted / is posting the main story, and I post the outtakes so that both of us have something on our accounts.

For the main story, please visit s/13225966/1/Defence-Professor-Wohl


Grindelwald's first Defence lesson

Gellert knew that it was important to make a good first impression, whether one was introducing oneself to potential new followers, threatening enemies to your cause or teaching a classroom of children for the first time. He suspected if this school was anything like Durmstrang (even his followers had been far too feared for idle rumours) then reviews of his first lessons would have been heard by every student in the school.

He'd been directed by a small, perhaps half-goblin teacher to the library after lunch, where he'd met the no-nonsense librarian. She'd scowled at him even as she directed him to the books for the last year's Defence Against The Dark Arts lessons. He'd flicked through them quickly, noting that his second year class were unlikely to have actually done much spell work. Practicals were good, he'd enjoyed those when he was at school. It wasn't like there was much actually realistic in their current set books, so he'd probably have to teach with no class book at he'd do a practical lesson, maybe disarming or shielding. Those were two pretty good fundamentals to start with.

With his lesson plan decided, he retraced his steps until he reached the corridor that he knew led to his own classroom. The students were already waiting, nervously chattering as they arranged the stack of Lockhart books on their desks.

He paused to still the nerves that churned in his belly. He was a dark wizard that had murdered more times than he could count and raced the true remorse that healed him. He had conquered countries and brought down governments, he could face a bunch of kids.

Dramatics would be a good way to get their attention, and it wouldn't give him the chance to back out once he'd entered.

He slammed the door behind himself, making everyone jump and a couple of students made surprised exclamations that were hurriedly stifled. He strode down the central aisle, fixing each student with a stare and using a light brush of legilimency to figure out what they thought of him.

He was intimidating which was good, but now he needed something that would make them respect him. Dramatics seemed to be serving him well after the image Dumbledore had already painted of him – Abernathy Wohl though? Of all the names? – but it needed to be something more than smoke and mirrors, tricky enough to impress the brightest students but also make a point.

His eyes fell on the piles of garishly coloured books on each desk. Brilliant.

He flicked his wand, activating a flaming glamour as he banished the books, rematerialising them in their bags. It was difficult magic, especially because he couldn't mix up which book belonged to which student and it left him staggering for the support of the table. At least the students were all too distracted by the 'burning books' to notice his momentary weakness.

'You cannot learn to defend yourself from a book.' He intoned, drawing their attention back to him as he let the glamoured flames fade. 'Take out your wands.' He instructed, then froze in dismay as without fail, every student reached for their bags to pull out their weapon. How had none of them realised where they were meant to be kept, did none of them wonder how adults drew their wands so fast? Or had it never occurred to any of them that it might be useful to have their most versatile tool closer to hand?

What kind of operation was Albus running here where children hadn't even learned to draw their wands by their second year. Surely he would have been better off returning to teach the position himself rather than allowing them to miss such basics. Could it be possible the headmaster hadn't even realised how far behind his students were?

'Dead.' He said slowly and the classroom froze. Truthfully, they would be if they graduated school and nobody taught them this vital piece of information. All plans for disarming left his mind.

Memories twinged as he remembered Vinda teaching this exact lesson to a group of his follower's children before they left for their first school term. He'd found it was important to have somewhere for when he sent parents on missions, or they were less inclined to carry out a task during daylight. Unknowingly, he recited her exact lesson as he wandered among memories of teaching Credence the exact move that he would teach the Hogwarts students today.

The response was better the second time, but his attention was drawn to a bushy haired girl in the front row. She had a very organised mind, packed with knowledge of spells far beyond her year group and she would be an accomplished occlumens given the chance to learn. She was a muggleborn, which meant she didn't even have a previous example to follow, and finally, her name was Hermione Granger. He withdrew from her mind with the information he needed and he pulled her up to the front of the class to demonstrate.

Then he drew again off his Durmstrang duelling lessons, knowing that it would be easier to pick out the mistakes if they were all in line. By the end of the hour, his continued legilimency had revealed that his first lesson had been a resounding success. He considered not giving them a homework but decided that would make him seem like a lax teacher. Instead, he set them a bit of practice and self-guided research.

By the end of the first day, his nerves had begun to settle and he headed back to the library to decide what to do with his next classes tomorrow. He needed to make the most of his freedom and ensuring that the next generation were equipped to protect themselves as best he could seemed like the beginning of an atonement for his crimes. That, and making sure they were less vulnerable to being influenced by the next dark wizard to haunt the country.

Of course, to do that he would have to promote some form of tolerance and unity, which he still needed to finalise within himself. That muggleborn in his first class was a shock enough, she easily bested the purebloods of her age. She would go far, furthermore he'd recognised the Potter boy of the prophesy as her friend. There couldn't be a seer alive who hadn't seen that particular prophesy at least once, not to mention he was so tangled up with the traces of some strange dark magic that it was impossible not to recognise him as a victim of an attack by a powerful dark wizard.