[19] A Little Leather-Bound Book

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In the coming weeks, Harry started noticing problems with a few of his classes.

Usually, he had pretty good control of his students, but for some reason, as of late, both the fourth years and the seventh years had become quite a struggle to deal with. According to Draco, the seventh years were just as giggly in his class, and the fourth years just as strange and avoidant, but neither of them could puzzle out exactly why the sudden change.

After the entire first half of a double lesson went by with the fourth years, and not a single student had raised their hand, Harry finally spoke up. He stopped his lecture and leaned against the board.

"Guys? What's up? It's been like two weeks and none of you really participate anymore. Is it my classes? Have they gotten boring or something? I can try to change things to make them more interesting if that would help."

He was met with more silence, and eyes looking everywhere but at him.

"Come on, seriously. I feel like I'm not doing my job right if I just let you guys not participate. There hasn't been a single raised hand today. None of my other classes are like this, so is there some Gryffindor-Hufflepuff feud going on that I don't know about? What do I need to do?"

A girl in the front hesitantly raised her hand and everyone turned to look at her, many shooting warning or concerned looks. She put her hands out and glanced around, as if to say 'don't worry', and many of the students relaxed.

Oh yeah, there was definitely something going on that everyone in the class knew about.

"Yes, Miss Greenwood?"

He recognised that her sister was one of the ones in his seventh year class, so maybe she could tell him something of use.

"It's nothing that's wrong with your classes, they're still very...lovely," she said haltingly. "It's just that it's a little hard to apply ourselves, because it's a little distracting when...you're teaching."

"What?" Harry asked. Because what on earth was that supposed to mean? Maybe she hadn't been the right one to call on after all. "Did I do something?" he ventured.

He knew for a fact that Binns didn't do the second war lectures until May, so this shouldn't be some sort of weird hero-worship thing. He had been caught unawares last year when some of the students had started acting oddly around him, and he'd made it a point to keep tabs on the other curriculum so he could be prepared.

So what was it?

"Someone more like," a student mumbled in the back of the class.

Harry couldn't quite make out the words. "What was that?"

The student sitting beside them pushed the mumbler and answered for them. "Nothing. We aren't trying to offend you. There's nothing wrong with you as a teacher, it's just..." they trailed off unhelpfully.

"Just what? What can I do?"

"What can you not do?" someone else muttered.

This time, Harry heard.

"What is it? I'm going insane, what is it I'm doing?" Harry asked, feeling himself start to get a bit aggravated.

"Nothing!" several students rushed to assure at once, but none of them met his eyes.

Oh, they were going to drive him bloody bonkers.

Harry turned on his heel and went into his office, bracing his palms on the desk for a minute and just breathing.

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