Stupid...sodding Mediwitches, and their non-descript answers. All Wendyll wanted was a more concrete explaination for why St. Mungo's wouldn't let him back on their staff. They hadn't exactly said "never again", but they hadn't really given him a date-of-return either. Instead, he was given the run around by ever witch or wizard he talked to there. It would be one thing if they were strangers, but he'd worked with these people! He thought that would at least count for something.
Sighing to himself in returning defeat, he walked into his classroom, a stack of papers under his arm. It seemed like no matter what job he did, papers were always a central part. If only they'd let him practice again, he could actually help people for a change.
Teaching is helping, he tried to remind himself. If he was successful here, he could save countless lives inadvertantly, through his students. That should bring him some sort of satisfaction. Right? Instead, he felt a pang of envy, one that he buried deep. These kids were young, and still hopeful. He may have shocked them a bit last lesson, but they needed to learn a bit of reality while here at school. Or else their time in residency would take it's toll.
As he went about arranging the room for class, the dummies from last lesson were still lined up at the back, covered by their sheets. In addition to these, were a few empty stretchers lining the wall under the windows. Hopefully, this lesson would provide more students with the chance to interact with 'patients'.
Figuring he'd get the ball rolling quicker this time, since they'd had one lesson under their belts, he levitated the dummies to stand beside each desk. As they were, the sheets remained completely covering them, the bodies held in stasis. Until he could trust them all, or they could trust him, they would be working with these dolls for the time being. Wouldn't do well to give them live patients until they proved themselves at least somewhat capable.