"Tempus." Bella sighs. "We should probably head back. In case he doesn't get fired."

"Yeah," Tony repeats. "...Do you want a hug, or something?"

"Yeah." Bella hugs her.

Hugs.

And slow, reluctant return to class.

The class is in the process of receiving a lecture about how many hostile moves - actually hostile, not a teacher with their very best interests at heart making a point - can be subtle and that their best defense is their perceptiveness!

Sherlock is staring unblinkingly at him while he makes this speech!

"In fact," says Mr. Phelps, "as happens in about half my classes, someone - welcome back, Miss Swan, Miss Stark - was able to identify what happened, although I don't know how much of a part the subsequent outburst played in providing clues. Nicely done, Miss Stark - can you lead us through your thought process as you came to realize what I'd done?" Mr. Phelps asks Sherlock.

Bella hisses under her breath as she resumes her seat.

"A few seconds of my experience of the world went missing just as you were passing by me," he says. "And then Bella yelled, just as you were passing by her - it seemed obvious that you were Memory Charming us to make a point and she had thrown you off or at least noticed."

"Thank you," says Mr. Phelps. "Unfortunately, allowing the front half of the class to try their respective hands at noticing something amiss would require more editing than I ever perform on students at this point, but do notice that everyone behind Miss Stark here, who was charmed, merely assumed they'd 'spaced out', re-read the paragraph that had gone missing, and otherwise went on undisturbed. In other words, 'spacing out' - making a general habit of it - is a hazard to your ability to react to your surroundings. Attention, and the readiness to react, are the core of Defense."

Completely inexplicably, the end of Mr. Phelps's sleeve (opposite his wand hand) starts smoldering.

"Exstinguo," says Mr. Phelps, and he repairs the scorch. "Case in point, but there will be no more of that. This is my classroom and points are mine to illustrate."

Feral grins.

"Should I develop cause to believe that this was not one of your accidental pyrotechnic outbursts, Mr. Orphan, you will not have a pleasant afternoon. Now -"

"I won't?" he inquires brightly. "You sure?"

"Do not interrupt me," says Mr. Phelps. "Now, if you'll all turn to chapter two."

"Are you okay?" Bella murmurs under her breath to Feral.

He shakes his head.

"What's wrong?"

"Read the first section," says Mr. Phelps, "and produce a list of examples. At least three per person."

"Didn't like the way he was talking to me," he murmurs. "I'll be fine."

Feral successfully manages not to set anything else on fire.