[ It's far too early as yet for tea -- not quite even nine o'clock -- unless one is in the habit of taking a cup at breakfast; even then one might argue it impolite to attend in the company of four heavy books and a tottering sheaf of papers.
Of course, such a one would be well-intentioned, and plainly mistaken. Albus has been awake nearly five hours now, and the time was agreed upon, and of course when attending a social function (however private in nature) it doesn't do to arrive anything but a smidgen early. As for his accompanying literary guests, well! A proper party was very seldom had with only two.
Adjusting the sleeves of his robes -- a deep blue and spattered liberally with ink -- he schools his face into careful pleasantry, wrapping once, then twice, on Evelyn's door.
At least, he rather hopes that it's her door. A near-infallible memory can still leave a remarkable amount to slip through the cracks when properly distracted, and he really is looking forward to this meeting.
Evelyn remains, at a particularly ignorant guess of muggle fashions, years ahead of his time. Still, the world that she hails from evidently believes in the maintenance of certain social niceties, and that alone is of far more comfort than Albus is entirely keen to admit.
Particularly after another morning fighting with the mechanical shower. ]
[Evy has not been awake for hours at this point. She woke at eight, a bit reluctantly, and spent the hour dressing, tidying, and poking at her own books. The electric kettle has been turned on; the little table set with cups and saucers (and a plate of biscuits, just in case); and her nose is currently in a volume of Elizabeth Barrett Browning, something easily enough set down when she hears a knock at the door.
And that's precisely what she does. She comes to the door with a smile for her guest--and an even more delighted smile when she sees just what he's carrying. Swinging the door wider, she gestures him inside. Her room's fairly sedate--but the bookcases make immediately obvious what she's been spending most of her spare change on since arriving in Asgard.]
Come in, come in! Would you like some help with those?
[Look at all the books he brought with him! To say that Evy's pleased to see them is an understatement.]
[ Albus beams to step inside, slinging the stack from beneath his arm and into neat place beside the biscuits. ]
Thank you kindly -- but I do believe that I've got it! Lovely room, Miss Carnahan, I confess some envy for the decor.
[ That smile rifles into a grin as he gestures to a shelf. ]
I hope that you won't think it amiss to add to the set. From the library, these, although their policies seem generous. Nothing too interesting, but I thought that you might enjoy some passages. There's an essay on varieties of sphinx by a Mr. Scamander that's particularly good. And another -- well. More of a yarn, really, sure to drive you up a wall for all its inaccuracies, but a ripping bit of fiction all the same.
Still! I'm lapsing into the bad habits of the bookish. How have you been?
You mustn't ever apologize for bookishness here. I won't have it.
[With a grin, Evy shuts the door behind him and takes a seat at the table, doing her very best not to forget her guest in favour of pawing through his books. All of it looks fascinating, and his descriptions only tantalize more, but they'll have plenty of time for that after they've managed some social niceties.]
I've been fine, for the most part. No earthquakes to speak of, anyway.
[She miiiiiiiight be fiddling with a teaspoon as she speaks; it's more dignified than sitting on her hands. Seriously, look at these books, she wants to read them all.]
No small improvement, that! Groundbreaking as the experience was, I suspect that we could all do without vast, ominous voices heralding the end of days.
[ Albus eases into the opposite chair, glancing over the biscuits. ]
May I?
[ He reaches for one, but not before offering one first to Evy. Someone hasn't made the time to catch up with breakfast just yet. ]
I've been well enough, if distracted. There are runes to study, employment to search for, and news from home to learn -- if Asgard lacks for anything it is not a means to occupy one's time.
I wish I might do more to lend a hand to the lingering devastations, but there's only so much to be done for much of it. I'm afraid I lack much practical experience in stonemasonry.
How's your work with the school coming along? I was delighted to see your name on the schedule, I admit, but it can be no small share of work to plan and put all of that together.
[She laughs and takes the biscuit, nibbling at it as he speaks.]
It's gone better than I might have expected starting out. I've never really taught anything before. [And certainly not four different classes, three of which are different dead languages.] But I had some time to prepare lessons before we opened, and so long as I can stay ahead by a week or two, I think it'll turn out all right.
[Besides, with ancient Greek and Latin, you just follow the lessonbooks you handed out to the students. That's easy enough. It's when you're pulling together the supplies necessary to mummify rabbits or creating lessonbooks for ancient Egyptian that it grows difficult.]
I'm afraid I'm growing used to seeing the city half in shambles; surprising as it might seem, I'm not qualified to try building much, either. [She shrugs, pouring herself a cup of tea.] Have you considered taking up a post at the school? I'm sure Professor Snape would be happy to have you.
[ Albus leans in, grinning as if about to impart some secret wisdom. ]
-- Should worst come to worst, you only ever needs remain a day ahead of the students.
[ He waggles a long finger, straightening back into his chair. ]
Managed to cover an entire unit on automobiles that way, when our usual professor was out ill. As you are an expert in your field, Miss Carnahan, I expect that you'll meet with little difficulty on that count.
If there is any assistance that you require in the organization of it all, do but let me know. The first class is always the most daunting, but I have little doubt that you'll wow them.
At any rate, I suppose that between the two of us we shall simply have to leave any discussion of the pyramids' construction to the theoretical, alone. For the best -- Asgard's citizenry might not appreciate the change in aesthetic.
[ That's odd. Several more biscuits seems to have disappeared. Bit hungry, were we, Dumbles? He munches for a moment, then considers. Conversations with Severus have been an uncertain thing, at best, he comes out of them with little solid idea of where the two of them stand. A rocky, unknown shore, hewn from too much unsettled history.
Under the usual circumstances, he'd take it as cue to forge ahead until striking luck. Asgard is anything but usual. ]
I do find myself missing teaching, but I remain ill at ease with the idea of taking payment for the work at a school that bears my own name...or rather, that of the potential that I share it with.
A foolish reservation for the work itself, of course -- I've offered to lend a hand with the maintenance, and there's no reason not to volunteer in other capacities as called for.
Then there is the small matter of whether I have anything of note to teach.
[ Albus smiles. ]
I suppose that I might always offer a very short history of horseless carriages.
[Goodness, Albus, if she'd known you were hungry, she'd have set out something a bit more substantial. For now, though, she doesn't mind seeing the biscuits getting eaten; she'd hate for them to go stale.
By the time he finishes speaking, she's grinning, pleased and--really--a little relieved. It's nice to know she hasn't yet done her students a mischief simply because she didn't manage to plan a full term's worth of lessons for four classes.]
I shall certainly keep that in mind. At the moment, I've a few lessons in reserve, but it may yet come to that.
[She nods at his explanation for choosing not to take a salary; such a conflict of interest might give her pause, too.]
Forgive me, but you don't seem the sort to teach a class on automobiles. [Imagine him covered in grease!] What sort of course was that for?
I suppose that I don't much. I doubt that I could have managed it for very much longer, or in any greater depth.
[ A brief, rueful look. ]
There is -- ah -- a divide between those of my world who use magic, and those who do not. The affairs of wizards remain by and large hidden from the view of those not among their number, while many born into magical families are never given much cause to keep up with the world outside of their own walls.
I occupy a somewhat odd, though not unusual position. Both my parents were magic-users, but my mother was the first and only witch of her family, and we...very seldom ever used magic at home. As a result, I am more used to the idea of a magicless life than many.
I and some others hold it as important that all students whose parents consent are provided an education on at least the most basic non-magical matters. There have been some objections, but not enough to scour the class from our timetables -- the school board seemed to recognize that in the end, we all needs must occupy the same lives, together.
[ He takes another gulp of tea, before commenting into his drink, eyebrows lifting a little at himself as he talks. ]
...A few too many older wizards of my day have refused to get out of the way of moving vehicles.
Less call for that here! May I ask which course you are looking forward to the most?
Well, I think that's an excellent idea, teaching wizards about how the rest of us manage. It's a pity they can't do the same for non-magical children, but--I suppose no one would believe it.
[One hand flies to her mouth when he mentions traffic fatalities born of pure stubbornness. How horrid--but he's quite right, they ought to move on.]
Oh, the one I'm teaching on ancient Egyptian rites and rituals. We'll be mummifying rabbits and toads as a sort of practical experience, along with the usual reading and discussion. Which would be a great deal of fun in general, but it's also...
[She pauses a moment, trying to decide how to explain the course's particular appeal.]
The entire course, you see, was the idea of one of the students. He's a very bright boy, but he has a rather nihilistic view of his education--keeps insisting that he'll never go to any sort of university. Apparently, they've all been destroyed where he's from.
He mentioned that he'd be interested in a course that involved learning how to mummify animals, and when I said we could do that, he was absolutely delighted. [She smiles at the thought of it, glancing down at her tea. There's something thrilling about knowing she's had such an effect on someone's learning.] It's proven to be a fairly popular course, actually; I've got more students in that class than in any of the others.
It is a shame, isn't it? I suppose that I hold out some hope for an eventual reconciliation of our separate circles, but I admit it seems unlike to change any day soon. Tradition, once established, grows quickly difficult to buck.
[ He tips his cup briefly to her in cheers, nodding along as he listens. ]
How fascinating! The hands-on approach works wonders for generating genuine, continuing interest; then to tailor it to a student's specific aims? Well. I daresay you needn't worry overmuch for your classes after all, Evelyn.
A terrible shame about his world's centers of learning, but perhaps after all this, he might yet return to establish his own.
[ And hopefully not set about killing woodland creatures indiscriminately, there were certain signs... ]
I confess I'm not half so sure how you might incorporate those practical lessons into your other courses -- mummifying Greeks is rather frowned upon, no matter how fluent your conversation beforehand. I'll have to stop by a time or two to see you in action, perhaps on a workday, when it's less likely to disrupt.
Perhaps you'll just need someone to lead the way in that matter. A wizard's Prometheus, if you will.
[But please only bring magical fire, not subjugation and mass panic, thank you.]
Why, thank you--I'm rather pleased with how it's all turning out, truth be told. It's just a matter of keeping the students' interest now that I have it; I'd be sorry to see Davesprite [what a silly name, says her briefly raised brow] give up on his studies entirely.
As far as my language courses go, I've been trying to incorporate lessons on culture in addition to the usual sorts of declination and conjugation lessons. Less thrilling than cutting up rabbits and toads, but rather more interesting than some of the schoolmistresses I had as a girl. Well--I hope so, anyway.
[She smiles down at her tea, the sort of after-the-fact modesty that says I've probably just said a bit too much about myself, haven't I.]
Did you mostly teach about non-magical folk, or did you have other classes as well?
Perhaps without the addition of the eagle -- we've no shortage of rocky cliffside, but chaining the poor bugger up there every day would be tedious work.
[ And that's all that he cares to say of that; too much told already, it sets his mind spinning back to old patterns better left unexamined. To remove that separation inevitably means redefining the hierarchy. For all his dull, blunt aims, Gellert was correct in that assessment. No wall ever comes down quietly.
Education, as ever, makes for fine distraction. He's heard stranger names than Davesprite, but granted, they are few. Albus waggles his own eyebrows in brief response. He's no stones to throw on the count of odd monikers. ]
I should be gravely shocked, Miss Carnahan, that you ever took anything less than the full joy of long, stuffy afternoons spent over sentence diagrams. At the risk of morbidity, may I ask whether you have ever had the opportunity to see a modern embalmer at their work? For all the grief inherent the profession, you might find fascination in the contrast of old ways and new. I rather doubt there are any in Asgard, but perhaps when you return home. I know that medical and anatomical professions are less common among women of the non-magical world, but if it interests you, there's no harm in the observation.
Ah, no, I'm afraid that was only a bit of cover for a colleague; I am the most junior staff member, and our head hates paying for outside substitutions, so I do a deal of the work when it's called for.
Primarily, I teach magic itself. Transfiguration, which encompasses spells of change. Toads into teacups, vanishing an object, expanding an interior space, all that manner of thing. In truth, every spell is transfigurative at its most basic level, but the broad, practical manipulations of energy are generally what's covered in class. I do a bit of theory with those seventh-years who express interest, but it's a rare thing. By that point in the semester, they're usually all chomping at the bit to graduate, learning be damned.
I can sympathize, summer brings out the stir-craze in all of us.
Oh, no. Save Hercules the trouble of saving the poor fellow--don't punish him at all.
[But perhaps education is the better choice of subjects; it's one they currently share, after all.]
I haven't, actually--the opportunities to do so in Cairo aren't exactly welcoming to the fairer sex. They're rather rare outside the more British enclaves of the city, anyway; as far as I know, the Mussulmens' religion doesn't permit it. But it's a nice thought for the next time I'm in England.
[Where they'll likely also be less than eager to have a woman coming in and inspecting their work, but she's fairly sure she can make it happen with enough insistence.
As he describes his work, her eyes grow wide. She leans in, picking up a biscuit, and toys with it as she listens to him.]
That must be fascinating. Both in theory and in practice--though I can certainly understand why you might have less opportunity to teach the former.
Oh, it is, though of course I speak as an intimately biased source.
[ He affects a small wink. ]
Truth to be told, Evelyn, it's always something of a small joy to speak of it to those unfamiliar with its everyday use. The terribly tricky thing about magic is that as with any tool or wonder, one quickly grows to take its presence for granted. Without care to nurture one's continuing sense of wonder, the mystical quickly fades into the mundane. A singular shame of any topic so beloved -- and perhaps, of education in general.
[ He's heard in passing of a morgue, here, if nothing else there must be some sort of undertaker to those natives not gone grey. Albus makes a mental note to look into the matter; if such things can't be seen to at home, the opportunity might as well be pursued here. An inquiry, and if successful, perhaps then a surprise visit. ]
[Oooh, surprise visits to the morgue! You know how to treat a lady, Albus Dumbledore.
No, really, she'd be delighted.]
It's a pity you can't continue its study and teaching here. You'd have any number of new students.
[And as he talks, she finds herself dearly wishing she could have been born to turn teacups into toadstools. She likes the sound of his world's magic rather more than hers.]
I suppose the trick is to study something so fascinating that the wonder's never totally lost. [Evy grins.] Or with enough mysteries that you'll never be able to know everything. History makes that easy enough, but I'm sure there are still things left to discover in Transfiguration, too.
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Of course, such a one would be well-intentioned, and plainly mistaken. Albus has been awake nearly five hours now, and the time was agreed upon, and of course when attending a social function (however private in nature) it doesn't do to arrive anything but a smidgen early. As for his accompanying literary guests, well! A proper party was very seldom had with only two.
Adjusting the sleeves of his robes -- a deep blue and spattered liberally with ink -- he schools his face into careful pleasantry, wrapping once, then twice, on Evelyn's door.
At least, he rather hopes that it's her door. A near-infallible memory can still leave a remarkable amount to slip through the cracks when properly distracted, and he really is looking forward to this meeting.
Evelyn remains, at a particularly ignorant guess of muggle fashions, years ahead of his time. Still, the world that she hails from evidently believes in the maintenance of certain social niceties, and that alone is of far more comfort than Albus is entirely keen to admit.
Particularly after another morning fighting with the mechanical shower. ]
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And that's precisely what she does. She comes to the door with a smile for her guest--and an even more delighted smile when she sees just what he's carrying. Swinging the door wider, she gestures him inside. Her room's fairly sedate--but the bookcases make immediately obvious what she's been spending most of her spare change on since arriving in Asgard.]
Come in, come in! Would you like some help with those?
[Look at all the books he brought with him! To say that Evy's pleased to see them is an understatement.]
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Thank you kindly -- but I do believe that I've got it! Lovely room, Miss Carnahan, I confess some envy for the decor.
[ That smile rifles into a grin as he gestures to a shelf. ]
I hope that you won't think it amiss to add to the set. From the library, these, although their policies seem generous. Nothing too interesting, but I thought that you might enjoy some passages. There's an essay on varieties of sphinx by a Mr. Scamander that's particularly good. And another -- well. More of a yarn, really, sure to drive you up a wall for all its inaccuracies, but a ripping bit of fiction all the same.
Still! I'm lapsing into the bad habits of the bookish. How have you been?
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[With a grin, Evy shuts the door behind him and takes a seat at the table, doing her very best not to forget her guest in favour of pawing through his books. All of it looks fascinating, and his descriptions only tantalize more, but they'll have plenty of time for that after they've managed some social niceties.]
I've been fine, for the most part. No earthquakes to speak of, anyway.
[She miiiiiiiight be fiddling with a teaspoon as she speaks; it's more dignified than sitting on her hands. Seriously, look at these books, she wants to read them all.]
And yourself?
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[ Albus eases into the opposite chair, glancing over the biscuits. ]
May I?
[ He reaches for one, but not before offering one first to Evy. Someone hasn't made the time to catch up with breakfast just yet. ]
I've been well enough, if distracted. There are runes to study, employment to search for, and news from home to learn -- if Asgard lacks for anything it is not a means to occupy one's time.
I wish I might do more to lend a hand to the lingering devastations, but there's only so much to be done for much of it. I'm afraid I lack much practical experience in stonemasonry.
How's your work with the school coming along? I was delighted to see your name on the schedule, I admit, but it can be no small share of work to plan and put all of that together.
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It's gone better than I might have expected starting out. I've never really taught anything before. [And certainly not four different classes, three of which are different dead languages.] But I had some time to prepare lessons before we opened, and so long as I can stay ahead by a week or two, I think it'll turn out all right.
[Besides, with ancient Greek and Latin, you just follow the lessonbooks you handed out to the students. That's easy enough. It's when you're pulling together the supplies necessary to mummify rabbits or creating lessonbooks for ancient Egyptian that it grows difficult.]
I'm afraid I'm growing used to seeing the city half in shambles; surprising as it might seem, I'm not qualified to try building much, either. [She shrugs, pouring herself a cup of tea.] Have you considered taking up a post at the school? I'm sure Professor Snape would be happy to have you.
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[ Albus leans in, grinning as if about to impart some secret wisdom. ]
-- Should worst come to worst, you only ever needs remain a day ahead of the students.
[ He waggles a long finger, straightening back into his chair. ]
Managed to cover an entire unit on automobiles that way, when our usual professor was out ill. As you are an expert in your field, Miss Carnahan, I expect that you'll meet with little difficulty on that count.
If there is any assistance that you require in the organization of it all, do but let me know. The first class is always the most daunting, but I have little doubt that you'll wow them.
At any rate, I suppose that between the two of us we shall simply have to leave any discussion of the pyramids' construction to the theoretical, alone. For the best -- Asgard's citizenry might not appreciate the change in aesthetic.
[ That's odd. Several more biscuits seems to have disappeared. Bit hungry, were we, Dumbles? He munches for a moment, then considers. Conversations with Severus have been an uncertain thing, at best, he comes out of them with little solid idea of where the two of them stand. A rocky, unknown shore, hewn from too much unsettled history.
Under the usual circumstances, he'd take it as cue to forge ahead until striking luck. Asgard is anything but usual. ]
I do find myself missing teaching, but I remain ill at ease with the idea of taking payment for the work at a school that bears my own name...or rather, that of the potential that I share it with.
A foolish reservation for the work itself, of course -- I've offered to lend a hand with the maintenance, and there's no reason not to volunteer in other capacities as called for.
Then there is the small matter of whether I have anything of note to teach.
[ Albus smiles. ]
I suppose that I might always offer a very short history of horseless carriages.
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By the time he finishes speaking, she's grinning, pleased and--really--a little relieved. It's nice to know she hasn't yet done her students a mischief simply because she didn't manage to plan a full term's worth of lessons for four classes.]
I shall certainly keep that in mind. At the moment, I've a few lessons in reserve, but it may yet come to that.
[She nods at his explanation for choosing not to take a salary; such a conflict of interest might give her pause, too.]
Forgive me, but you don't seem the sort to teach a class on automobiles. [Imagine him covered in grease!] What sort of course was that for?
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[ A brief, rueful look. ]
There is -- ah -- a divide between those of my world who use magic, and those who do not. The affairs of wizards remain by and large hidden from the view of those not among their number, while many born into magical families are never given much cause to keep up with the world outside of their own walls.
I occupy a somewhat odd, though not unusual position. Both my parents were magic-users, but my mother was the first and only witch of her family, and we...very seldom ever used magic at home. As a result, I am more used to the idea of a magicless life than many.
I and some others hold it as important that all students whose parents consent are provided an education on at least the most basic non-magical matters. There have been some objections, but not enough to scour the class from our timetables -- the school board seemed to recognize that in the end, we all needs must occupy the same lives, together.
[ He takes another gulp of tea, before commenting into his drink, eyebrows lifting a little at himself as he talks. ]
...A few too many older wizards of my day have refused to get out of the way of moving vehicles.
Less call for that here! May I ask which course you are looking forward to the most?
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[One hand flies to her mouth when he mentions traffic fatalities born of pure stubbornness. How horrid--but he's quite right, they ought to move on.]
Oh, the one I'm teaching on ancient Egyptian rites and rituals. We'll be mummifying rabbits and toads as a sort of practical experience, along with the usual reading and discussion. Which would be a great deal of fun in general, but it's also...
[She pauses a moment, trying to decide how to explain the course's particular appeal.]
The entire course, you see, was the idea of one of the students. He's a very bright boy, but he has a rather nihilistic view of his education--keeps insisting that he'll never go to any sort of university. Apparently, they've all been destroyed where he's from.
He mentioned that he'd be interested in a course that involved learning how to mummify animals, and when I said we could do that, he was absolutely delighted. [She smiles at the thought of it, glancing down at her tea. There's something thrilling about knowing she's had such an effect on someone's learning.] It's proven to be a fairly popular course, actually; I've got more students in that class than in any of the others.
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[ He tips his cup briefly to her in cheers, nodding along as he listens. ]
How fascinating! The hands-on approach works wonders for generating genuine, continuing interest; then to tailor it to a student's specific aims? Well. I daresay you needn't worry overmuch for your classes after all, Evelyn.
A terrible shame about his world's centers of learning, but perhaps after all this, he might yet return to establish his own.
[ And hopefully not set about killing woodland creatures indiscriminately, there were certain signs... ]
I confess I'm not half so sure how you might incorporate those practical lessons into your other courses -- mummifying Greeks is rather frowned upon, no matter how fluent your conversation beforehand. I'll have to stop by a time or two to see you in action, perhaps on a workday, when it's less likely to disrupt.
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[But please only bring magical fire, not subjugation and mass panic, thank you.]
Why, thank you--I'm rather pleased with how it's all turning out, truth be told. It's just a matter of keeping the students' interest now that I have it; I'd be sorry to see Davesprite [what a silly name, says her briefly raised brow] give up on his studies entirely.
As far as my language courses go, I've been trying to incorporate lessons on culture in addition to the usual sorts of declination and conjugation lessons. Less thrilling than cutting up rabbits and toads, but rather more interesting than some of the schoolmistresses I had as a girl. Well--I hope so, anyway.
[She smiles down at her tea, the sort of after-the-fact modesty that says I've probably just said a bit too much about myself, haven't I.]
Did you mostly teach about non-magical folk, or did you have other classes as well?
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[ And that's all that he cares to say of that; too much told already, it sets his mind spinning back to old patterns better left unexamined. To remove that separation inevitably means redefining the hierarchy. For all his dull, blunt aims, Gellert was correct in that assessment. No wall ever comes down quietly.
Education, as ever, makes for fine distraction. He's heard stranger names than Davesprite, but granted, they are few. Albus waggles his own eyebrows in brief response. He's no stones to throw on the count of odd monikers. ]
I should be gravely shocked, Miss Carnahan, that you ever took anything less than the full joy of long, stuffy afternoons spent over sentence diagrams. At the risk of morbidity, may I ask whether you have ever had the opportunity to see a modern embalmer at their work? For all the grief inherent the profession, you might find fascination in the contrast of old ways and new. I rather doubt there are any in Asgard, but perhaps when you return home. I know that medical and anatomical professions are less common among women of the non-magical world, but if it interests you, there's no harm in the observation.
Ah, no, I'm afraid that was only a bit of cover for a colleague; I am the most junior staff member, and our head hates paying for outside substitutions, so I do a deal of the work when it's called for.
Primarily, I teach magic itself. Transfiguration, which encompasses spells of change. Toads into teacups, vanishing an object, expanding an interior space, all that manner of thing. In truth, every spell is transfigurative at its most basic level, but the broad, practical manipulations of energy are generally what's covered in class. I do a bit of theory with those seventh-years who express interest, but it's a rare thing. By that point in the semester, they're usually all chomping at the bit to graduate, learning be damned.
I can sympathize, summer brings out the stir-craze in all of us.
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[But perhaps education is the better choice of subjects; it's one they currently share, after all.]
I haven't, actually--the opportunities to do so in Cairo aren't exactly welcoming to the fairer sex. They're rather rare outside the more British enclaves of the city, anyway; as far as I know, the Mussulmens' religion doesn't permit it. But it's a nice thought for the next time I'm in England.
[Where they'll likely also be less than eager to have a woman coming in and inspecting their work, but she's fairly sure she can make it happen with enough insistence.
As he describes his work, her eyes grow wide. She leans in, picking up a biscuit, and toys with it as she listens to him.]
That must be fascinating. Both in theory and in practice--though I can certainly understand why you might have less opportunity to teach the former.
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[ He affects a small wink. ]
Truth to be told, Evelyn, it's always something of a small joy to speak of it to those unfamiliar with its everyday use. The terribly tricky thing about magic is that as with any tool or wonder, one quickly grows to take its presence for granted. Without care to nurture one's continuing sense of wonder, the mystical quickly fades into the mundane. A singular shame of any topic so beloved -- and perhaps, of education in general.
[ He's heard in passing of a morgue, here, if nothing else there must be some sort of undertaker to those natives not gone grey. Albus makes a mental note to look into the matter; if such things can't be seen to at home, the opportunity might as well be pursued here. An inquiry, and if successful, perhaps then a surprise visit. ]
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No, really, she'd be delighted.]
It's a pity you can't continue its study and teaching here. You'd have any number of new students.
[And as he talks, she finds herself dearly wishing she could have been born to turn teacups into toadstools. She likes the sound of his world's magic rather more than hers.]
I suppose the trick is to study something so fascinating that the wonder's never totally lost. [Evy grins.] Or with enough mysteries that you'll never be able to know everything. History makes that easy enough, but I'm sure there are still things left to discover in Transfiguration, too.