Trouble, I Guess? (Grayson)

Grayson sat down behind his desk with a small sigh, dreading how this might go. He steeled himself. He was not supposed to be the nervous one. He folded his hands in front of him and looked across his desk at the boy who still sat where he had been sitting the entire class. For a moment, he simply assessed the young Ravenclaw, debating the correct approach.

Teenagers always thought they were right. It was clear Dimitri Moreau believed his actions were justified, and thus anything Grayson said would go in one ear and out the other unless he could address the boy's reasoning directly. He could guess, but...it would be easier just to ask.

"I'm done lecturing for today," he said, his tone level and his voice light. "So we're just going to talk. Feel free to move closer if you'd like."

Grayson's posture was relaxed, and, hopefully, welcoming. He wasn't angry. Mildly annoyed, perhaps, but not angry.

"I don't have much teaching experience," he started. "But supposedly, when a teacher does everything right, the class is willing to participate. So tell me, what did I do wrong?"

When Dimitri admitted that he didn't believe Grayson had done a poor job as a professor, the librarian relaxed a little internally. Good, they were getting somewhere. He'd been prepared to take criticism, but he was glad that he wouldn't have to defend himself to a student. He knew from his own time at Hogwarts how delicate the balance of power was in the classroom, and he had observed teachers who had failed by leaning too far on either side of the spectrum. Those who ruled like dictators were generally hated, and those who allowed the students to dictate lost all respect, and therefore control. Teaching, like anything, required moderation.

Of course, Dimitri still didn't move, but Grayson never expected him to. Again, it was a power play. Whoever moved first lost. If Dimitri submitted to his suggestion, he would be conceding Grayson's authority and influence over him--something no teenaged boy, especially one of Dimitri's standing, was ever wont to do. On the other hand, if Grayson himself decided to move closer after seeing Dimitri wouldn't, he'd be admitting that the boy's will was stronger than his own, and would give up any power he might have had in this situation. So neither of them moved.

He nodded thoughtfully at Dimitri's explanation, considering his options. He could see why the boy would feel the way he did, but he couldn't help but think the argument was rather flimsy. Times were changing, and sometimes Purebloods--like his own father--did end up without servants to do their dirty work for them. But even if that were not the case, Grayson didn't think anyone was "above" learning the vanishing spell. Well, he didn't think anyone was above learning anything, being the knowledge hoarder that he was. He noted the blue colour of the boy's robes, and considered the appeal he was trying to make.

"So you think," he started, summing up what the boy had essentially just said, "that there is no point in knowing anything unless you are certain that you will use it someday? Well, I'd wager half the spells on your exams will never be useful in a practical situation, no matter what your social standing may be. I'm supposed to teach you how to turns desks into pigs. Does that sound like something you'd use outside of school? I certainly never have. Yet it will be on your NEWTs for this class, as will the vanishing spell."

He had several other arguments to make, but he held back, waiting to see if he had gotten through to the Ravenclaw before he continued.

It was clear the Moreau boy was not having it. It was probably no use trying to have a rational conversation with one so stubborn and set in his ways. Of course, Grayson didn't blame the young Ravenclaw for his beliefs. Such mindsets were common among Purebloods of standing, and had surely been hammered into the boy's head long before he could even walk. He did raise his eyebrows, however, at the rather petulant response.

"Perhaps," he repeated, humoring the boy. And as the Ravenclaw moved to stand, Grayson simply watched him, expression unchanging.

"One more thing," he responded lightly to the boy's rhetorical question. "I can't give you a grade for participation today, for obvious reasons. If you would like to earn back those points, you have the opportunity to complete a short assignment along with your homework." He met the boy's defiant gaze with his own calm stare. "Three uses of the vanishing spell that have nothing to do with cleaning. I would like them written out and on my desk by tomorrow morning."

And with that, he turned to the pile of homework on his desk and took out his reading glasses, dismissing the Ravenclaw with his body language rather than his words.