Jack, not Jackson

Chapter 31: Meeting Frost

(To prevent the chaos of introducing so many characters at once I've created this short scene. In case you haven't noticed, multiple main characters and conversations are my weakness..along with 90 other things)
—warning. It switches POV a few times so keep that in mind)—

Harry Potter: POV
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Harry has never been one to stake his life on his Academic successes. Usually, he had an overall good week if he got to each class on time, did his homework and didn't end up in fighting for his life in some way or other.

Therefore, it should be no surprise that when it came time for Harry to be sitting in McGonagall's classroom turning a pit bull into a bell pepper, he was aimlessly wandering the halls.

No one stopped him. There was no one around to stop him, mind you. If there had been it would have defeated the whole point of wandering around aimlessly during classes. He wanted to be alone with his thoughts.

Or rather he was attempting to escape them, but the damn things just kept popping up. It was like playing emotional wack-a-mole armed only with a flimsy fly swatter.
Pretty much pointless and usually with very little success.

It was while wandering said vast and endless halls that Harry very nearly got decapitated. He had turned onto the fifth floor hall, thinking about swimming in the prefect boy's over-the-top bath when he caught sight of something flying towards his head at a great speed.

If Harry hadn't been a seeker he would have a rather crispy copy of Defensive Magical Theory embedded in his forehead right about now. Thankfully he managed to dodge. Instead of swiftly turning around and walking away like most people. Harry decided to investigate.

It wasn't often he found something actually interesting enough to take his mind away from his pesky thoughts and stop hitting them with the fly swatter.
Creeping closer, Harry could hear a dark muttering coming from the open door. It was hard to make out what he was saying, as each word seemed to come with its own accent, but some of the words were clear.

"Theoretical? whats the point of that?
Someone gonna theoretically stab you with their theoretical knife? This is- (garbled nonsense that may have invoked the image of a cyclops crying). -And what the hell is this?
This is what they give me to work with? I shan't. "

Harry stopped listening for a moment to duck here as a copy of Break with a Banshee came sailing out the door, trailing smoke behind it. Harry crouched by the book, he was going to pick it up but thought better of it. As he crouched there, he noticed swirled patterns of ice on the spine, invading the cracks and deepening them.

It was with shock that Hardy realized the books were not smoking from fire, but steaming from frost. Harry turned around to ask the new Professor how that was possible..just in time to catch a ridiculously thick copy of Gilderoy Lockheart's six-book-in-one addition (with pictures and signature) square in the chest.

-"And stay out!"
Jack shouted from inside. Harry let out a huff of air as the momentum threw him into the wall, which he slid down until he was sitting next to the growing pile of books. Frost's head popped around the door frame within a second. "Oh. Sorry. Didn't see you there."

Professor Frost was just as odd as he had seemed at the opening ceremony. Everything about him screamed unknown. He didn't have a wand, he didn't seem capable of sticking to one accent and his appearance gave nothing away as to where he was from. Scotland? Egypt? England? Spain?
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Harry gave up. Maybe he would ask Hermione what she thought later.

Jack Frost:POV
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As Harry spaced out, Jack Frost crept closer, slightly worried that he had dazed the boy with glasses. It would not be good if he took a student to the medical ward before he'd even taught a class.

By the time he'd taken three steps. Jack had realized three things.
1) Glasses was supposed to be in class.
2) he hadn't been sleeping or eating regularly.
And 3) This boy had seen battle.

Harry Potter: POV
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In less then two minutes I found myself sitting inside the new Professor's classroom holding a cup of chamomile tea with.. lavender?
Yup. This professor was odd. Where had he even gotten the tea from? He hadn't had enough time to make it and there was no tea pot anywhere.

Professor Frost pulled a chair up in front of him and began sorting through the diminishing pile of textbooks. (Most of them were on the floor in the hall) finally the nice-but-slightly-awkward silence was broken by Jack.

"When I signed up to teach this class I did not realize it was supposed to be theoretical work. Theory's won't stop a bullet. Or in this case, a spell."

"No kidding."
Harry said before he'd even realized he was going to say anything. He hesitated, trying to read the new Professor's view on students opinions before adding.
"You should've met this one teacher we had bout two years ago. If we ever so much as mentioned actually using what we were taught we'd get detention."

Professor Frost actually winced at that, then screwed his nose up till it had wrinkled and said with the same tone that a disgusted child would say broccoli.
"Detention"

That short conversation alone was enough for Harry to know that this teacher wasn't going to be as bad as Umbridge, though he'd wait until the actual class before he made up his mind whether he'd be any good.

Personality wasn't everything, no matter what Gilderoy Lockhart had believed.