Chapter Text
1.Backpfeifengesicht – (n.) a person who needs to be slapped or punched; lit. “A face badly in need of a fist”
Edward Elric knew, despite all evidence to the contrary, that he wasn't the most patient person. His explosive, choleric, and exceptionally impulsive nature was difficult to suppress, yet Ed would very much like to believe that over the years, he had achieved the impossible and adopted a modicum of Hawkeye's professionalism. If only by sheer osmosis.
Unfortunately, this belief was becoming increasingly unstable and shaking in its foundation while exposed to the destructive force that was Umbridge.
"Ahem, ahem... Mr Elric, are you certain that this is the right approach to teaching?
The twins, who had already painfully and repeatedly learned that Ed's approach to teaching was decidedly more hands-on than that of any of the permanent members of the teaching staff, choked on their stifled comments, whatever they might be, while murmuring behind raised textbooks.
Lee Jordan, who was standing at the blackboard and redrawing the transmutation circle that had just swallowed not only the boy's desk but also nearly damaged himself, coughed, barely aiming for subtlety, concealing the muttered "barbaric? always".
Ed ignored the young wizard's comment for now and smiled warmly at the more seasoned witch. He still kept an eye on Jordan to make sure he didn't accidentally complete the faulty transmutation circle. Ed wanted to demonstrate what NOT to do, but he didn't want any more metaphorical fireworks. Jordan had the misfortune of being the first to stumble upon a common mistake in transmuting stone materials. "I believe that warnings about mistakes are merely empty words that go in one ear and out the other. In fields as dangerous as alchemy, seeing firsthand the consequences of carelessness is supremely beneficial.
Umbridge twisted her lips slightly, which Ed easily interpreted as disbelief. Maintaining a charming smile was becoming increasingly difficult. He nodded toward the unmistakably grotesque fusion of floor, desk, and a piece of granite that wormed itself into it all with thin, root-like tendrils. Like an invasive growth, the amalgam reached toward the nearest wall. The floor around it was concave, thinned by the poorly balanced transmutation. Ed was certain that if he asked, Jordan would confirm that the soles of his shoes had also lost some of their volume. Umbridge ignored the gesture completely, jotting something down in her pink notebook and clicking her lips to emphasise her disapproval. Ed tried to channel his growing irritation into something resembling calm, but he knew it was a futile effort at best.