Sitting at a table near a window, Bonnie is studying a length of parchment in front of her. A well of red ink rests near her. After several moments, she takes up her quill and begins scribbling over the document, scratching out lines, and making comments in the margins. Once could assume that she is either writing a best-selling novel, or grading essays. Given her profession, the latter is more likely than the former. Rubbing her forehead gently, Bonnie readjusts herself in the seat, rather trying to stifle a sigh, so that the others present in the room will not think ill of her.

Avoiding the staff faculty room and thus her co-workers for as much as she possibly could since the start of the new term, Astra finds herself with little choice in socializing with her fellow adults. Escaping from her office and her personal suite, she enters the room with an armful of books and a heavy backpack dangling off her shoulder that contains even more work. Smiling tightly at those in the room, she gives a small nod before finding a place to seat herself.

Keelan Walsh is not unlike Astra in her avoidance of the staff room, although hardly for the same reasons. She just prefers to keep to the greenhouses, really. She is, however, perched on one of the main chairs around the meeting table in the back of the room, carefully studying a series of papers written on very old parchment. She occasionally, eyes scanning over them, rearranges a few pages and frowns.

“Are Divination students always this abysmal at essays?” The former Ravenclaw’s voice sounds almost haggard, and a bit frustrated as she drags her quill across an entire paragraph. Bonnie sets the quill down and glances up at those who have joined her in the room. She appears to almost be regretful of her decision to teach, though she loves it already. “This is truly tragic.” A tsk is heard and she pushes the stack of parchment away from her.

“Can’t you just divine what grade they’d get and just mark the paper appropriately?” The answer is traditionally flippant and Astra stifles a yawn as she lowers herself into one of the couches. Crouching forward she sets the books down and then removes her bookbag, swinging it onto the floor by her feet. “I wouldn’t know how good Divination students are, I only took the class to get an easy grade.”

Keelan Walsh has to literally bite her tongue to keep from answering Bonnie’s question with the first thing that comes to mind (which is: There’s a reason they took Divination rather than a serious subject). Astra does good work of being sarcastic so Keelan continues working what it is she’s doing, occasionally half-standing to reach farther away pages. After she’s rearranged about six(of the many), she remarks, “Perhaps you should attach a flyer about my remedial classes to them, Ms. Kensington.” Soft, but at least she spoke. Without looking away from her work, mind.

“Cute,” Bonnie responds to Astra’s comment, a cold glance directed her way. “Why the sarcasm about Divination? This is not an easy subject to master, and those who do not put in the effort and have the ability as well will not be passing it.” The woman looks rather annoyed at her coworkers. Quietly, she sighs and rolls her eyes, looking back to her work. “What on earth has education come to,” she adds, also quietly, setting aside the parchment on top of her work as she marks a grade upon it.

“Oh yes! I’ve forgotten do forgive me, oh seeing wonderous one who can pierce the very shadow of death!” Astra steals a page from her mentor and pulls out the mockery she bandies about without even considering the consequences when it comes to those she lives or works with. Pushing her middle and forefingers of her left hand against her forehead, she closes her eyes. “I see your pain and I do so heartily apologize for not understanding.” Snorting a laughs she drops her hand away from her head and covers her mouth.

Keelan Walsh presses her lips together and keeps her attention focused on what she’s doing, moving a few more pages until, with a satsifed grin, she murmurs, “There. In order at last.” Too slowly for the task at hand, she pulls out a quill and begins to neatly number the pages. This will keep her occupied for at least the next five minutes, and longer if she plays her cards properly. Not that Keelan is a gossip, of course.

“In making a mockery of my subject you mock my very career, my work,” Bonnie responds, her voice becoming rather heated as she sits at the table, ferociously scribbling onto the essay before her. “Divination is not a ‘mamsy-pamsy’ subject, any more than Defense Against the Dark Arts is, Miss Rathe.” She turns and faces the younger woman, still in her seat. “And I would appreciate it if you refrained from comments as such in the future.” A pointed glare goes out to Astra, and Bonnie turns back towards her essays.

“Oh that’s right, you send your students out to the front line to *die* at the hands of Dark Wizards upon graduation.” Retorting, any good nature that might have resurrected itself is now dead and Astra stares pointedly back at the new professor. “I hate to tell you but your so called art is touched by very few of your students. They take it for the same reason I did, an easy grade.” “Tell you what, miss,” for despite their age difference, she doesn’t feel or she doesn’t recognize their age gap, “when I see that you aren’t just *another* sham come here to waste the school’s resources, I’ll give you consideration.” “Until such time, don’t even bother wasting a breath on me.”

Keelan Walsh raises both her eyebrows and forgets for a full minute what she’s doing. Her cheeks burn crimson when she notices she has paused with her hand hovering in the air, halfway to the ink bottle for more. Immediately the woman dips her quill and continues numbering her pages. She feels a small twinge for Bonnie’s sake, but admires Astra a touch too highly to make any comment. Instead, her slow, deliberate not-at-all-eavesdropping-really numbering continues.

“Well, I never,” Bonnie huffs a bit and turns so that her back is quite facing Astra. Bonnie has no more words for the precious Slytherin House Head. “Wrong, wrong, wrong,” she sighs and makes several large marks over the topmost essay. She quietly whispers what she writes as she puts it down to paper. Her cheeks are red and her face still fixed with anger, but she says nothing more to the woman nearby, nor the other sitting in, for Bonnie has nothing to say to someone whose opinion belittles her subject.

Crackling with anger that is only now subsiding, Astra sniffs in derision her sneer twisting her features as looks away from Bonnie. There is nothing more to say and the bad temper has gotten the better of her. Muttering to herself, she reaches down and grabs the backpack, swinging it back over her shoulder. Reaching for her books and supplies, she gives a half-shrug to Keelan. “Sorry you had to sit through that Keelan.”

“A bit more refined than what I encountered in the Gryffindor common room on Sorting, but endlessly more dignified. And with that brisk exchange of viewpoints, and a pleasant, silent acceptance toward agreeing to disagree, I think that will about down that.” Melvina says, from the door of the staff room. A brow is quirked as she leans against the door frame, arms folded across her chest. There is a note of humor to her voice, but also a note of subtle authority. It wouldn’t do to have students over hearing about waves in the faculty, and seeing that everyone in the castle had to live in fairly close quarters to one another, she’d felt she needed to step this in the bud right here and now.

Keelan Walsh looks up and tries her hardest to look suprised, which is difficult as her cheeks are bright red. “Hm? Was there something… I’ve been quite busy, I found these pages in the Caaartography section of the library. Strange, isn’t it?” She gives laughs, short and hollow, and then silences except to say, in a high, relieved tone, “Hello Professor Prichard.” Keelan again forgets to continuing her numbering.

“O-oh, hello, Headmistress,” Bonnie responds, glancing over her shoulder at the woman in the doorway. Oh, dear. “I assure you Professor Prichard that we will have no more words on this subject.” She looks back down at her papers, and does not glance back towards Astra at all, nor does she even adjust her positioning to view the woman’s reaction at all. After all, it is Bonnie who is in the right in this argument, is it not? Well, of course.

“Oh yes, this *just* what I need.” Heatedly rising, her temper flares again but this time Astra manages, although not so graciously, to choke her desire to lash out. “Whatever you say *Headmistress*,” spitting out the title, there is less love for the sudden appearance of her superior than there is for Bonnie. “Thank you for setting me straight. Forgive me, I think I’ll go and finish my work in more congenial location.” Of course, that means having to pass by Melvina once she’s near the door.

Melvina Prichard shifts her gaze toward Keelan with a small nod, offering the woman an genuinely warm smile, before shrugging herself off the door frame and uncrossing her arms. She’d been aware that the anger had been abating, which is why she spoke with a hint of congenial humor. But quite beyond that, she also felt it important that they knew where she stood, and how she felt about spats between her staff. Especially on the matter of the subjects to which her respective peers have dedicated their lives to teach. “Thank you, Bonnie, dear. I trust that there won’t be,” Melvina says, warmly, to the diviner as her gaze flickers that way. A note of fondness touching her words; she’d clearly come to respect Bonnie some, after having sat in her class. Her gaze shift then toward Astra as she approaches, however, her previously quirked brow rising again. “Of course, Astra,” she says, without moving out the way. “Wherever you need to be to complete your tasks is, of course, where you need to be. But I do need to ask a moment of your time first, hmn?” And seeing as that she didn’t seem to terribly concerned about walking in to the room, she was pretty confident about getting it. “I’d like to say, simply, that I do not believe there to be any soft subjects taught in this school. Not a one. Be it Defense, Divination, or what have you. We are all professionals, trained in out expertly trained in our fields of study, and so, in order to better understand one another, and our peers. To understand how we can best help one another as teachers influence and guide out students, maybe we’d need to better understand our fellow faculty, as well?” The sly grin that touched her lips at that is a little playful. I know that I learned a great deal from sitting in on Professor Kensignton’s divination class. And I think you, would, too, Professor Rathe. Both of you,” she says, finally, turning her gaze toward Bonnie as well. “I’d like for you to exchange times that you can sit one of the other’s classes. If it requires you to miss a class of your own, I’ll sit a study hall in that classes place.. Simply owl me the information once the choices have been made.”

Keelan Walsh is happy her claims of where the papers came from went unchallenged, and quietly finishes numbering. Then, from her bag she pulls a leather cover. There’s a quicker stacking of the pages, although she takes care to get them neatly piled. With a flick of her wand, from wherever it is she keeps it (and back it goes right away, too), the leather cover swings up and, apparently, binds the stack. A soft chuckle barely escapes her lips at the lecture Astra and Bonnie recieve, before her lips are clamped tight, and seat more comfortably settled into. Smartly, she keeps any opinions to herself.

Donovan Harrison comes into the Lounge with a stretch and sigh, done for the day, fairly early which he is grateful for having once a week. He doesn’t pause once seeing other Professor there and gives a smile to all of them. “Good afternoon all. On break from your classes? Except for you Headmistress. How is everyone doing?” He smiled and sat down in one of the chairs to be comfortable.

“Yes, headmistress,” the woman answers quietly, turning a bit to glance at Astra, her anger still etched a bit on her face. Bonnie sets her quill down and turns out towards the center of the room, facing the others in the room. “Good afternoon, Professor Harrison,” Bonnie greets him and glances to Melvina. Good going, Bonnie. Good way to lose respect on your first year. “I’m certain we will be able to work something out. Professor Rathe is always welcome in my classroom,” she finally adds, looking at Melvina and not at all at Astra as she says this, sounding but not seeming entirely sincere.

If only the Defense professor was a little less stubborn and prideful, she might actual agree. As it turns out her response is quite different. “I’ve wasted enough of my years on things that do not matter. I will *never* comprehend Divination and I don’t intend to try now.” Astra is far from amused and her hard expression is not pleased by this turn of events. “I don’t care to know anyone who doesn’t have a remote sense of humor. Miss Kensington has duly informed me how she feels and I’ve done the same with her. As a *professional* I will leave her be.” The sneer edges on the corners of her lips, “Consider this, *Headmistress*, the last faculty to sit in on classes was David Porter, the Headmaster while I was a student. I hated him with an intense passion. In other words, you are behaving like him. If this does not stop, you can look for my resignation from the Board.” “I don’t havetime *to waste* with my classes on such a foolish endeavor. I came here to teach, not sit around in another’s class.”

Melvina Prichard regards Bonnie with a slightly nod; privately thinking, at least from what she’d heard of the conversation, that the diviner had the right of it. But that’s where she came to head over the whole thing, because (quite despite whatever the woman might feel about her) Melvina quite respected Astra. And beyond it all, she rather disliked this void that had grown between them since she’d accepted the position of Headmistress. Astra’s words, however, dig deep at the Headmistress, and her brow furrows. And all sense of humor, sly, subtle or otherwise fades from her slightly hooked features. Indeed, her expression becomes entirely businesslike, confident, and authoritive. Melvina is clearly a woman used to making things happen and getting things done. “Don’t mistake my words, Professor Rathe. This is hardly a request,” her form straightens and her poise steels. She will not be cowwed, even by someone as strong-willed as Astra. “I’m not suggesting you understand the subject–I’m suggesting you understand the professor, and the subject through her eyes. And you may think of me as you will, my dear, but that will not prevent me from doing my damnedest to keep this school peaceful and functional. That is my function. Now, I believe you were about to go?” And with that, she steps away from the door, allowing in Donovan to whom she greets with a nod and kind sort of smile. “Just discussing some issues, Professor Harrison. And how does this fine afternoon find you?”

“Yes, actually I was and you know my answer still.” “I will leave alone, but I won’t bend on this matter. If you want to take it up, speak to me in private. I’m done here.” Without even nodding to the Tranfiguration teacher, Astra sweeps out of the room.

Keelan Walsh frowns at Astra’s mention of Porter, and Keelan shifts uncomfortably. Donovan gets a tight lipped smile, but Keelan is now keeping her eyes on Melvina and Astra. Her expression is not unlike one you might see on someone who is watching two dogs that are growling at each other, ready to jump in should one attack. Her shoulders are hunched, and remain so after Astra leaves, the woman quite ill at ease. Her frown deepens and for a moment it looks like she might decide to follow Astra out.

Donovan Harrison blinks at this ‘discussion’ that he’s stumbled upon. “Things are doing rather well Headmistress… apparently better than what was going on here… Astra…” he calls, but failed as she is already out of sight. “Do I even dare ask what that was about? I’ve been so busy getting my menagerie settled from moving back into the castle I feel quite lost I’m afraid.” He has never seen Astra that upset, especially at an authority figure such as a Headmistress. She never did that with Amelia that’s for sure.

“Oh, my,” Bonnie breathes as she watches Astra stride out of the room. “Had anyone behaved in such a manner when I was at school, he would have been caned for his behavior.” The woman shakes her head and scribbles a grade onto the essay atop her pile, moving it to sit with the other well-inked and graded essays. Bonnie‘s posture remains very straight and she lifts her head as she puts down her quill. “I must admit, I did not expect such a situation so soon after coming back to Hogwarts, leastwise with a fellow teacher.”

Melvina Prichard turns her gaze toward the door with a soft expression — her anger having already begun to fade, and the prepercussions weighing on her. Though her expression is still firm, there’s a tell-tale softening around the eyes, that hints at a quiet regret over what just happened there. “Oh my, indeed,” Melvina murmurs, exhaling a soft breath before turning toward Donovan, Bonnie, and Keelan. “I wish I knew, dear Professor,” she replies to the Transifiguration Master before moving to take a seat. “She’s had some troubled months, Bonnie. Don’t think to harshly of her.” Her tone seems somewhat final on that, too, though her it is more gentle than her proclamation before.

Well that about does it. Keelan stands up with a bang–having pushed up off the table with great force. “How dare you. Astra in no way deserves to be spoken about in such a manner. Ms. Kensington! If you do not wish to have such situations,” there’s a bit of venom, although the young woman keeps her tone carefully level, “then you would do well to not… to not expect Astra Rathe to be bossed about.” She deflats, somewhat, though her eybrows have come down harshly. “Forgive me, Headmistress, but in front of the rest of us,” or, you know, just Keelan, “was no place to belittle Astra or Ms. Kensington with such a… a ridiculous punishment. I thought as a Headmistress you would understand that first and foremost is teaching the children… to suggest a study hall in place of a class just to…to… smooth out a disagreement. I cannot approve.” Keelan stands rather resolute, her cheeks flushed. Why on earth is she lecturing a superior?

Donovan Harrison still looks very confused about what is going. “Would someone give me a chance to understand what in the world is going on?” Headmistress insulting and punishing Professors. What the bloddy hell is going on here? “Astra goes barging out, Keelan yelling at Melvina, something about upsetting Bonnie…. Have we all just suddenly turned into our students who quarrel in their Common Rooms? I would hopefully think not. We are grown adults charged with the care of a few hundred children and their education in magic. I would think that we could handle ourselves in a civilized and adult manner instead of going shouting at each other, insulting each other and causing others to come to tears.”

“Excuse me? Ms Walsh?” Bonnie looks in astonishment at Keelan, unsure of even what she’s being yelled at for. “What on earth?” Bonnie can manage no more, for she has been rendered entirely speechless. The audacity of this entire day has flabbergasted her. Bonnie merely sits there, staring at Keelan while she raves. She can simply say nothing.

Melvina Prichard turns her gaze toward Keelan with a surprisingly even expression, considering how quickly her temper flared a moment ago. She seems quite placid now, however. Her tone is genuinely reserved, and the inflection in her voice, while not kind (a superior one tends not enjoy being besieged by a lesser), is quite earnest. “Your opinion is noted, Professor Walsh, and your defense of your friend and colleagues is admirable,” her hands fold in her lap for a moment, and her eyes lock confidently upon Keelan’s, unabashed and equally resolute. “But from where I sit, this is equally about teaching our students. If we expect our students to learn from us, to be encouraged by us, guided by us, then we have to be willing to be guided by each other, as well. As individuals, we’re each prone to being a differant way. To acting a differant way. And, naturally, to teaching a differant way. We are who we are, we can’t change that. But it seems like backward logic that we should expect our students to adapt to us, to each of us, and each of our ways of thinking. My “punishment”, if you choose think it that, wasn’t meant as an insult. It’s meant as an idea. If we don’t understand each other, and how one another thinks and performs our duties, how can we expect at all our students to succeed. How can we expect ourselves to succeed. It’s hardly an insult or a punishment to direct someone else toward understanding their peers, and the enviorment they share, better.” Her gaze shifts toward Donovan then. “Funny that, I made more or less the same comparison when I arrived.”

Keelan Walshdoesnotrollhereyes. It’s a bit of a struggle, but she manages not to after all. “Regardless, Professor Prichard, I sincerely doubt the students will benefit from missing a class. A tea together may be more beneficial. However… that’s all I’m going to say, ” she seems to have regained a bit of her sense, “as you are the Headmistress.” Donovan earns himself nothing beyond a snort and a quick, alltogether too dry, “Shouting, Donovan, you have not yet seen.” As she is standing (and without even a look at Bonnie to clarify), Keelan scoops up her book and her bag and says, “If I may be excused, I should really be returning this book to the library.” Nevermind that she means her personal(and somewhat hidden, at that) library and not the school one.

Donovan Harrison sighs as he stands up and looks to Melvina. “Though I find that even you, Headmistress, are behaving like one of our students, more of a bully than a Headmistress, unfortunately we cannot ‘call you out’ in order to set things right like we could to our students. Yes, we each individually have our own way of teaching, depending on where we come from, but each subject is unique in it’s own right. What can a Professor of Magical History learn from Defense Against the Dark Arts? One is merely facts while another is practical. We cannot work the same way, what fun, what challenge is that for our students? Co-workers and employeers work differently than one another out in the real world, I recall it from my work for the Ministry. It teaches our students how to quickly adapt and learn to deal with different people. That is the point of this school, for the students to learn and us to teach, in our own unique way.”

“It isn’t about working the same way, Donovan,” Melvina replies, in more or less the same tone of voice. “It’s about understanding how we work, to bring about the best in all of us. And a Professor of Magical History can learn a lot from a Professor of Defense, in my way of thinking. Not the least of which being the motivations and passions help by her fellow professors. And that, Professor Walsh, is why a tea isn’t acceptable,” Melvina stands, brushing off her robe and smoothing out the wrinkles. “Discussing something over tea isn’t the same as seeing someone interact with thier passion on a personal level. And that’s what this is about, from my perspective. Helping us each understand the passion we hold for our subjects, and how we share that passion with out students. And note, I said if no times could be found. I’m confident that it can be arranged so that no classes need be missed, but I wanted to leave that as a solid option. And seeing as there were no implications from anyone else that I heard that someone else’s subject was soft, I won’t demand you follow suit, but I would highly recommend spending a free period here and there visiting your other professors and sitting on their classes. You might be surprised at what you discover. I have done for Bonnie, and I feel like I’ve come to understand her better for it. And I will do for each of you in time. Again, think of me as you will, bully or not. But from where I sit, there your classrooms aren’t just rooms private to your own domains. We don’t teach our subjects in a bubble, we don’t teach our students only one idea and let them drift. We share a roof, we share a purpose; if not for blood, we’d be family. And I think it’s time we share an idea of one another. We’re all Professors of Hogwarts, and I think it’s time we started acting like it.”

“Well…” is all Bonnie can manage, even still. She glances to each of the members in the room and shakes her head for a moment. “I suppose I’ll just head up to my office now. I will see you all at supper.” Bonnie nods and starts stacking up her work and standing up. A nod goes to each of the remaining adults in the room, and Bonnie strides towards the door quickly, exiting without another word.

Donovan Harrison just stands there and doesn’t look upset, but does nod to Keelan as she leaves, then looks back at Melvina. “I agree, Headmistress, that we do not work in a bubble, by far. In fact, I have been arranging with Professor Sedgewick with my 7th year students and her’s. We work together when we need to. In fact I will eventually be speaking with Professor Rathe and Professor Walsh on another matter, though it will be of another ‘passion’ of their’s if they so wish to share, and help teach my Transfiguration students. Now if that is what you want, you didn’t have to make us observe each other to know how we enjoy our personal passions.”

Keelan Walsh nods mutely before striding through the room and exiting. Simple as that.

Melvina Prichard draws a deep breath, sharing a small nod with Donovan. “But it isn’t personal passions we’re solely talking about, here, now is it? It’s professional passion, and those effect all of us. I’m harding suggesting we change the way you each teach your students; I’m suggesting that we learn how we each teach out students we know how better to do so as one school, with one focus and one purpose; education. And I’m pleased to hear that you’re collaborating with your fellow teachers, I am. And by doing so, you should understand what I mean.”

“One is the number of the solitary, unified entity,” Isolde announces from the doorway as she blithely breezes in, picking up nothing from the other professors leaving at the same time. “Hello, everyone. Good day, I hope?” the arithmancy professor asks, smiling as she starts to go about brewing herself some fresh tea.

Donovan Harrison shakes his head. “No, I do not. We collaborate yes, but that did not require me to observe their teaching so that we could do so. I am sorry if you do not like how we have been doing things lately Headmistress, but they have worked for the past thousand years as far as I know. Why go changing it now all of a sudden? Besides, I know Transfiguration, Charms, Defense and several other classes move quickly, we have a lot to learn. It is difficult for us to even make time for our students outside of class…” He looks over to Isolde as she enters. “Afternoon Isolde… and that depends on one’s opinion of ‘good day’.”

“And where exactly did I suggest changing anything?” Melvina asks, quietly. Her tone still surprisingly even, despite the grilling she’s been put to. “I’m not wanting to change anything, except how we understand each other. Why is my wanting us to see how we each teach such a terrible thing? Why do assume it means that I’m changing how things are done? Where did I say anything about wanting the professors of Hogwarts to change how they govern thier classrooms. I didn’t. This is a school, and just because we’re adults doesn’t mean we don’t have anything left to learn. And learning about the people who help us shape the young lives around us in a professional sense hardly seems like the blasphemy I feel like I’m being taken to task for.”

Isolde Morgan pauses in her tea-brewing to give first Donovan a curious look, then the rest of the room a curious frown. Deciding she’s come in at the wrong time, she goes back to her tea, sitting down a few minutes later to sip at it slowly.

“Then I do not seem to understand,” Donovan answers her, “why we must observe one another teaching. I can learn just as much talking with the other Professors about it all and to understand them that way. We already talk about our students quite often, our opinions of them and suc. What you are after, I do not understand. All I see, like the other professors most likely, is you are forcing us to do something we do not like, force us to take time away from making sure we can teach our students the best way possible, or get behind in our classes.”

Melvina Prichard shakes her head sadly, reaching up to rub the bridge of her nose in a frustrated way; not angry, so much as tired. “That’s like saying by listening to be a bird sing, without ever seeing it in the air, you can know how it flies. And if it’s classes you worry about, with a proper lesson plan, I, or another subsitute can sit a period. However, Professor Harrison, the only one’s I am “forcing” to do anything, are Professors Rathe and Kensington as they displayed a distinct lack of each other’s professional value earlier, which you didn’t have the luxury of seeing.” A deep breath fills her, and though her tone is strained, her voice never rises. This is something she’s genuinely passionate about, it means something to her. “What I’m getting at, and what I hope is, that by watching each other work your subjects, you’ll learn something about your colleagues that you can’t learn not from simple conversations. That you learn who they are. It’s what we do that defines us. And I don’t see how it could hurt to know one another better.” Finally lowering her hand from her nose and drawing another deep breath, she meets Donovan’s eyes. “This resistance surprises me. It’s enough to make me question why? Why don’t you want to see how your fellow teacher’s teach? The real reason. I’m not critiquing how anyone teaches. I’m not suggesting anyone emulate anyone else. I know your lesson loads are heavy, but there have been times we we’ve all needed an ill holiday and left lesson plans for others. What I suggest isn’t even a whole day, just a period here and there. It could be as simple even as a day a test is administered, where all the substitute in question needs know to do is pass out and collect the papers. So I have to question why. Is it need to hold one’s own domain sacred? Or is it fear? I respect you, Donovan. My grandson respects you, a very great deal. But I think in this, you’re choosing not to understand before you attempt it.”

Donovan Harrison patiently listens to her though. “Why I personally object? Because I do not want to nor have the time to do such a thing. And I feel that we get to know one another best outside the classroom. The students see us in class and in the office, that is all they normally see. Here,” he gestures to indicate the staff room, “we get to know the real person, not the teacher. I feel that I do not need to see the teacher to understand my fellow professors. It may be a side we do not see, but for me and I am sure others, the teacher is a face we put on for the students, is not the true self. You have not spend much time with me to see what I am really like. You may see me in the classroom, but be assured, that is not the real me. Be sure to speak to Amalia Amithest, owner of Honeydukes in Hogsmeade, she has seen a side that none here have, be assured of that. The class is one side of me, but like a diamond, there are many facets to the stone. You cannot judge it from just one facet.”

Melvina Prichard does seem, for what it’s work, brilliantly appreciative of his patient listening and earnest answer that follows. “I can appreciate that viewpoint, Donovan. I can. And I won’t force you to sit other classes, even though I will continue to encourage it. But in a way, I think you made my own point for me. A facet of a diamond is still a part of the diamond. To say that facet isn’t the real you is to say that none of them are. And I think it could beneficial for all of us to learn those facets of each other, where they pertain to our chosen careers. Beyond which, I’m pleasantly inclinded to agree to disagree. Although, I hope it won’t offend you if I take time from my own schedule, to see the you the students see?” She smiles a bit, for the first time in several minutes. It’s wry, but she felt like they had approached something of an impass — she felt, or hoped, at least — he comprehened where she came from, and she had heard his points of view. Not much else was going to be served tossing things about, and her grandson did think rather highly of him, so she was predisposed toward not wanting to completely alienate Donovan.

Donovan Harrison folded his arms over his chest and seemed to slightly sigh. “I know I cannot stop you from coming to my class Headmistress, but the doors to my classroom are open to you and my fellow Professors as much as to all the students who need anything. Well, I will try to see your side of things. So far the students have been working hard, grumbling as they always are, but they are learning. In any case, I do have to feed some of the animals in my classroom. If you will excuse me Headmistress?

“You’re wrong, there, actually.” Melvina says, in a genuine tone. “You can stop me, if you like. All you have to do is say so. If you’d me not sit your class, the ask me not to, and I won’t. I may be a silly, stubborn, and foolish old woman who defends her point of view far to adminamntly to make much sense of it,” she grins a little, always one ready for a joke at her own expense. “But I’m not that old, that stubborn, or that foolish yet. …what I want, my goal and my only goal, is to learn. To learn how to become the best Headmistress this school has ever known, to help educate the finest young witches and wizards, and to aid my extremely comptent staff in all things, professional and otherwise. I may stumble a few times before I find that path, the one the works best for me, and everyone else as well. But I’ll get there. I appreciate your listening, and considering my point of view. And certainly, there’s somewhere I must go as well. Good afternoon, Professor Harrison. And to you, Professor Morgan, Professor Kensignton. Tea, perhaps, sometime else.”

Donovan Harrison gives a nod and escapes while he can. “Good afternoon Headmistress,” he gives and slips away from the Staff Room.

Melvina Prichard turns to leave as well, though moving down the hallway in the opposite direction as Harrison.

It is with great nostalgia that Bonnie Kensington makes her way onto the train. She had decided in the past to take the train to Hogwarts out of sheer curiosity, and she is finding it exactly the same as it was when she took it… well, many years past. The woman takes a seat near the window, facing forward, so as not to become ill. Her large Divination volume sits at her side and she appears to have a makeshift table ready to make more notes on several lengths of parchment. How better to pass a trip than to work, right?

The little boy is gone too quickly – Sibyl Wexler only has time to give him a quick, comforting touch on the shoulder as he rushes by. The nurse watches him go, her maternal smile tinged with sadness now, but she nods with approval as she watches Briony’s interaction with Gabriel. “Almost time to go, Briony!” Sibyl calls after her daughter. “And for me too, Basil,” she adds, giving her husband’s arm another affectionate squeeze. “But we’ll be back before you know it.”

The door to the compartment opens, and Sibyl Wexler bustles in, calling one last, “Behave, Briony-love! I’ll see you at Hogwarts!” behind her as she enters. The nurse has evidently stowed her lugggage somewhere else – all she carries is a tapestry carpetbag, clinking with potion bottles and with knitting needles and yarn sticking out the top. “Oh – good morning! I suppose I have found the professors’ cabin, then,” she says, with a cheerful grin at the compartment’s other occupant. “I heard that we were getting a few new ones this year. I’m Sibyl Wexler, the Hogwarts nurse.” She takes a seat opposite the other woman, facing backwards, and starts rummaging around in her bag to extricate her needles and yarn, a bright tangle of red.

Isolde Morgan quietly enters the compartment after taking a quick peek inside. “Ms. Kensington,” she says with a friendly smile as she invites herself in and begins placing things in the luggage bins above. As the nurse enters, Isolde nods to her in greeting and takes a seat. “Ms. Wexler, this is the new Divination professor, Bonnie Kensington,” Isolde offers by way of introduction. She may as well be useful. “It’s so good to see all these students again.”

Smiling widely, the massive frame of Darius Dwight enters the compartment shortly after Sibyl. “We may need a second one,” he opines cheerfully as the compartment proves, as always, just big enough for as many people as it’s holding. “Good morning, everyone. How are you?”

Karina Sedgewick opens the door to the compartment, to find it filled with her colleagues, and a few people she doesn’t not recognize. “Good morning!” She smiles at the assembled adults. “I see I’m not the only who thought of taking the train. May I?” She is holding an empty looking leather bag, squarish and not too fashionable, more like a sachel than anything.

Clavicle Gravely Oh.. er, My pardon. I didn’t realize this car was full.” he grins politely. “If you would excuse me… ” he smiles, “Unless there is some sort of extra room about?”

“Hello,” Bonnie greets those who join her with a nod of her head. “Nice to see you again, Ms Morgan,” Bonnie smiles in a friendly fashion to the Arithmancy teacher. “And hello, Sibyl. Hopefully I won’t have to see you all that often this year.” Bonnie‘s eyes smile with mischeif, and she pauses a moment. “Say, Wexler, did you say? Have you any relation to the writers for the Daily Prophet?” The woman looks thoughtful as she considers this.

Isolde Morgan waves in greeting to Karina, then laughs softly. “I just didn’t feel like putting up with another Floo trip, or getting twisted around to apparate to Hogsmeade,” she offers as explanation. “Besides… I always loved this train.” Then Clavicle also gets a quick nod. “It might get awfully dull in here, young man,” she tells him, eyes twinkling, obviously not entirely serious.

“Oh! Well, then, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Professor Kensington. Oh, and do come in, Professor Sedgewick! Professor Morgan! It’s good to see you.” Sibyl, in one of the backwards-facing seats across from Bonnie, is busily working away at untangling her knitting, but she greets everyone in turn with equal friendliness and good cheer, not missing a beat even with the ever-increasing number of occupants. “Oh! Why, yes I am,” she says to Bonnie, with another smile. “Basil is my husband, and Frederick is his brother. And – oh my.” Sibyl has just caught sight of Darius, and something has finally stemmed the stream of cheerful chatter. Her ruddy, sunburned cheeks flush a little pinker, and she lets out what might almost be called a girlish giggle. “Darius Dwight? I didn’t think you would be found on this train.”

Clavicle Gravely grew like a sprout over the summer, He’s far too thin. But the skeltal thin which makes his bowing deep an almost comical parody of the action. “I fail to see how so many learned presences could ever bore a man. But I do feel I am putting upon your hospitality, and if I were to leave, you’d be far more able to enjoy your ride.” he grins a bit. “As I would merely bopre you to tears with questions about our summer readings.” He nods, “I’ve so many brimming about in these here bones.” Clavicle is definately taking after his father. The rakishly thin boy smiles. “If you would pardon me? And excuse my rudeness for failing to knock.”

Darius Dwight smiles, and mimes the action of sweeping a hat from his head at Sibyl’s patter, “Guilty as charged, madam.” He winks, and makes some room for the skinny young boy, “And who might you be, young master?” He smiles and offers a wink to Clavicle. “Feel free to stay if you wish, and if my esteemed colleagues offer no complaints… this is, after all, their train we are intruding on, I might argue.” He settles himself next to Sibyl gently and smiles again to her, his body crouched forward so he doesn’t bang his head on the luggage racks.

Hearing the name of the musician, Bonnie‘s eyes flick to the door, “Oh, my. Are you teaching this year, too?” She offers him a smile as she glances through the cabin. With them all being adults, it certainly does fill a bit faster. “This should be an interesting year, if we’re all to start anew.” The woman settles herself, removing her book from the seat next to her to be located on her lap so that there’s more room. “Tell me, is the sorting as fascinating as it always was in the past?”

Isolde Morgan smiles a little crookedly as she notices Darius’s presence. She nod in greeting, a safe enough approach. “It’s what these benches are for, after all,” she adds after the other professor, smiling at Clavicle. “For sitting.”

Karina Sedgewick takes a seat, and puts down her seemingly weightless sachel on her lap. “I would have been at school,” she explains to Isolde, “But… as I had… something to take care of in London, I thought I would take the train back. It has been too many years.” She blushes slightly, as if she had said more than she intended. Quickly, she opens her sachel and takes out a large, leatherbound notebook of cracking parchment and settles down to do some work.

Sibyl‘s cheeks pinken a little more under Darius’s smile – and then the nurse clears her throat loudly, and looks back to the other professors. Karina’s remark draws a quick, concerned glance across the car – Sibyl doesn’t say anything, but her sharp turquoise eyes still note the other woman’s comment. “Well, it’s good to see you here,” she replies, her voice softening a little. The train lurches, and Sibyl‘s ruddy complexion pales a little. “Ugh. Shouldn’t have sat backwards,” she mutters.

Darius Dwight idly pulls out a harmonica from his robes, and asks around the compartment briefly, looking for objections. Finding none, he picks up a quiet bluesy tune, letting its music fill the compartment with a calming, serene air. As he plays, he closes his eyes and enjoys the motion of the train.

“There’s room here Mrs Wexler,” Bonnie beckons. “I never sit backwards for that reason. It always made me ill as a child.” The woman chuckles and packs her things away, as she can tell that she won’t be getting anything done. The woman falls silent as Darius plays his music. “Ah, it’s been so long since I was to a concert. Hopefully there will be one or two at the school?” Bonnie smiles at Darius hopefully.

Isolde Morgan shifts slightly as the train lurches. “I think I’ll go say hello to some of my former students,” she announces, carefully getting to her feet. “I missed too much last year. If you’ll excuse me.” She then slips back out into the corridor.

“Need something for that, Sibyl? I brought some…” Karina digs into her sachel again, and pulls out a vial of shimmering teal potion. In the bright midday light a few flecks for what appears to be gold can be seen. She offers the vial to the nurse with a sympathetic smile. “Try it. It will help. My special recipe.” She gives the nurse a wink.

Stopping playing for a second, Darius answers, “My earnest hope is to have a single large concert at the end of every year. ALL Wizo-Music students will play. Provided I have approval from the new headmaster, or headmistress.” And with that, he keeps playing.

Clavicle Gravely smiles. “My deepest apologies. I am Clavicle G. Gravely, the third.” the Gravely name is known a bit, as the owners and operators of the Gravely Shadow Emporium and Autumnal Carnival. The carnival walks in both worlds, and the wizarding side has all sorts of magicakal things, mirrors and monsters. “It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance.” he offers a hand to Darius Dwight. The boy is the son of the ‘Illustrated man’, the Major Domo of the carnival. This is pretty obvious as a skeleton Tatto pokes up over his collar and waves.. then politely raises it’s tophat to the female adults. (repose)

“Karina, you’re a treasure!” Sibyl sighs gratefully, reaching out to take the vial. Professional interest takes precedence for a moment – she holds it up to the light, examining the sparkling bits – but then necessity takes over, and Sibyl swiftly uncorks the vial, drinking down the contents swiftly. Almost immediately, the color returns to her cheeks, and she lets out another sigh. “Oh, thank you. Much better. You wouldn’t consider sharing the recipe, I suppose?”

Riley Markham hardly glances at the card before moving to hand it back to Kitty, giving a great, heaving sigh of mixxed worry and disgust. “Aye, fine. S’my Gran. She an’ I.. well,” he sighs, all that worry and fear he’d been holding up raging back to the surface. “She worried me, today.. something she said. Can’t figure it out.. Eh,” Riley looks up, as the train stops.. “We’re ‘ere, eh.” And he rises, non-challantly, to pull down and carry he and Saphia’s things off the train.

(Faculty) Isolde Morgan sighs happily as she settles in at the table. “I feel like I’m home!” she announces to no one in particular as she sets her small satchel to the side of her chair.

(Faculty) “Sorry I’m late,” Darius excuses himself as he sits down. “Got a bit caught up in nostalgia.”

(Faculty) Bonnie Kensington strides in slowly, taking in the scene of the Great Hall. It always looked majestic, but somehow, even more on sorting day. The woman smiles a bit and takes a seat near the end of the table, gancing around at the other faculty. “I can’t blame you, Mr Dwight. I did, too. It’s been so long since I was here.” Bonnie‘s smile seems permanently pasted to her face as she gazes about at the large hall.

“Yeah,” Riley mutters, not bothering to ask if Saphia would like him to carry her luggage, stepping behind her and picking up for her after she’s dragged it a way. Hauling heavy things was something he was actually fairly good at. He seems more than slightly annoyed, though more at his own reaction than the question.. “Yeah, she was a famous curse-breaker, did some ivestment things for Gringotts, helped a lot of rich people get richer. But she said somethin to me today..” He drops the luggage off in the entry wing, following the rest in to the great hall.. “Something odd.. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but it worries the stuffing outta me..” And then, as he steps in to the great hall.. he looks up, across the room to the faculty table. “Oh, sweet Jesus.. I’m in hell..”

(Faculty) Silent, morose, and isolated even within the crowd, Astra sits at the faculty table with the hood of her cloak pulled up so that it is just covering her hair. Hands folded in front of her, she sits with her shoulder turned a fraction away from the Headmistress and while she does glance at the new faculty, she seems more mindful of the Slytherin table.

(Faculty) “It is always nice to come back, isn’t it?” Isolde asks pleasantly, turning to Darius and Bonnie. “At least… it would be as long as your time here was good, I suppose.” This makes her pause, but not for long. “Merlin’s beard. How did I end up with the Ravenclaw House?” the professor continues, totally on a different topic, obviously. It happens quite often. Her expression as she studies that House’s table is one of mixed panic and hopelessness, though both are thankfully in mild doses. “The First years will be smarter than I am.”

(Faculty) Darius Dwight shakes his head firmly, and answers, “That is not true. The first years will NOT all be smarter than you.” He smiles pleasantly, deliberately wry.

(Faculty) Karina Sedgewick settles down at the faculty table with a feeling of relief, as if she’s come home after a long journey. She smiles at Isolde, and answers her, “You gave the Hufflepuffs to me, Isolde,” she says, eyes twinkling. “And no, I’m not traiding.” She chuckles to herself, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of long, wavy black hair behind an ear.

(Faculty) “Oh, you’ll do fine,” Sibyl chides Isolde, with a reassuring pat on the professor’s shoulder as she edges past on her way to her seat at the other end of the table. Back on solid, unmoving ground, the nurse’s good cheer and good health seem to have completely returned, and she surveys the room with her usual comfortable smile. “You know, it still doesn’t feel quite right to be on this side of the room,” she muses, looking out over the Great Hall.

(Faculty) Melvina Prichard sit quietly, an amused smile brushing her lips as she goes over a few of the finer points of the notes she’d made. First impressions were key, after all. And she certainly wanted to start things off right. Her gaze does lift to offer a warm nod and pleasant smile to each of the arriving faculty.

(Faculty) Isolde Morgan smiles her thanks to the others and sits back, taking a deep breath. “It’s all in the attitude,” she states, either for her own benefit or… otherwise. At this point, she finally notices that the person in the headmistress’s chair is not the headmistress she remembered. “Oh!” she says quickly, blinks at the others, blinks at Prichard, then… blinks at the students. That’s it. Attitude. She is not a surprised owl. And so the eyes grow a little less wide.

(Faculty) Darius Dwight looks intrigued also by the new headmistress. Seated a good distance away from her, he can’t easily talk to her, but whispers to Bonnie, “So, who is that? I assume she’s Headmistress Hargrove’s replacement?”

(Faculty) Melvina Prichard draws a deep breath, looking up from her sheets of parchment with a confident sort of expression, looking out over the crowd of youthful faces with a pleasant expression. She sees Riley enter, and smiles a bit more; a softer, kinder sort of smile, that clearly decribes her as being to far across the nosy room to have heard his outburst.

Keelan Walsh strides in, not even having shucked her cloak, and moves quickly to the faculty table. She’s still, in fact, got the lantern she was using to light the way, though that at least has been put out. Despair, oh haters of Herbology (and members of Ravenclaw), Keelan Walsh has not drowned in the lake.

With students settled at their respective House tables, the doors to the Great Hall let in one, final person. Head of Gryffindor and Charms Professor Erica Calwern enters the Great Hall with the Sorting Hat lightly held in her grasp. She makes her way gracefully between the tables and up to the dias which hosts the faculty tables and a lone, dark oak stool. Tattered, torn, patched, and frayed, the professor still treats the Hat with the utmost respect as she gently places it upon the stool. Turning, she bows to the table, head lowered and right hand sweeping towards the ground. Standing and directing herself to Melvina in particular, she addresses the new Headmistress, “Good evening, Professor Prichard. I believe we are ready to greet our newest residents.”

Darius Dwight looks over the Ravenclaw table, noting a loud groan coming from their direction at the appearance of Professor Walsh. Many, including one boy in particular, seem utterly disconsolate.

Dolly Faeden gasps out loud at the Great Hall and actually stops in her tracks to stare at the ceiling. “I’ve got to learn tae do that!” is her decided proclaimation. She seems not to notice as she’s somewhat left behind by the group that is, of course, still moving.

Angelo Grey enters the great hall and a face of amazement comes from within. He looks up, turns around, several times, as if spinning in the same place, trying to grasp the entirety of this hall. “Wow…” he says, dreamily.

Erica Calwern awaits patiently and with a warm smile next to the Sorting Hat which both stand upon the dias at the front of the room. As many new students filter in from the waiting room, they create a single line upon the dias, forming a living barrier between the faculty and the returning students.

Rawnie Weller stares up at the magical ceiling nearly falling onto her backside made dizzy by the beauty of it. “Blimey!” Is all the little redhead can think to utter before actually taking a small spill forward due to Vertigo, poor girl.

Kara Raine follows the others into the Great Hall, eyes wide. “Oh my, oh my.” Swallowing nerviously, she moves forward falling into line, hands clenching and unclenching the sides of her robes.

Kassandra Verkooyen Kassandra Verkooyen almost floats into the Great Hall, decently looking at the enchanted ceiling, always keeping up with the group of first-years and standing still among the others.

Sara O‘Shay quirks a brow, for all that she may not like Rawnie, she doesn’t want anyone to mess up her sorting. “You alright?” she questions of Miss Weller. “I suppose it can be a little overwhelming.”

Standing on the dais, Aisling can appreciate how many people there are in the hall, and, as such, how many eyes there are upon her. Seeing Rawnie tumble down, she steps over to her and kneels next to her. “Are you alright?” she inquires, hand resting upon her plait like usual.

Chris Jitsunari joins in the awe. He looks up at the enchanted celing and then at all the returning students, not sure how to take it all in. “The books about this place don’t even come close to the actual experience.”

Rawnie Weller stand up and brushes her robes off. A small glare is given to Sara. “Im arright….. I just got a little dizzy from lookin up too fast s’all….” She didn’t need help from a girl who called her a halfling. Whatever that is. She nods to Aisling too. “Im arright.”

(Faculty) Keelan Walsh scuttles up on the dias with a start, eyes still turned upward. “Aye…” is her breathless response to Chris’s comment.

Dolly Faeden scuttles up on the dias with a start, eyes still turned upward. “Aye…” is her breathless response to Chris’s comment.

Sara O‘Shay nods a little before stepping back into the queue, not that she’d stepped out any. “Good,” she states, simply.

Heat O‘Leary glances upward momentarily towards the ceiling before he lowers his gaze, a minor shiver rocking his frame. He looked towards the sorting hat and continued the hurried attempts at fixing his hair, brushing longer pieces behind his ears with his fingers.

Aisling O‘Cormac looks down the line and exclaims, looking at the hat, “Rawnie, Kass, Lyre, it’s the hat that boy was talking about! Maybe this won’t be so bad after all… Although, he did say it tests you, or something… I hope I know the right answers.”

With a flick of her wand towards the Waiting Room doors, Erica has them shut behind the final new student entering the hall. As if on silent cue, she also steps away from the hat, giving herself a distance of a few feet from the worn old thing.

(Faculty) Keelan Walsh removes her cloak before sitting and drapes it over the back of her chair. She sits, setting the lantern next to herself, and smirks at the Ravenclaw table. Still here, she is. Her hands fold calmly as she listens to the hat, and then she murmurs, “That was a good one, wasn’t it?” to whoever is sitting next to her.

Angelo Grey smiles in awe as the sorting hat sings his song. Letting out a silent chuckle, he seem exhilirating.

Rawnie Weller claps out loud as the Hat’s song comes to a close. “Brilliant! Blood amazing! That shabby ol hat can sing! Thats even better than movin pictuers with frog guts!” She nearly yells almost too loudley.

Kara Raine giggles, dimples appearing as she smiles. “It sings, nice little tune too. Maybe this won’t be as bad as they said, yes?”

Wincing at the loudness of Rawnie’s comment, Aisling stands quietly in the line awaiting further instructions. “I hope so.” she mutters to Kara.

Lyre King shakes his head. “I’m not so sure. A hat that can sing could probably do other things, too!”

Sara O‘Shay listens quietly to the song, and so she remains quiet as she awaits for the sorting to begin.

Kassandra Verkooyen smiles. “I think he cannot be as bad as they said. He sang a splendid song.”

Dolly Faeden watches the hat in awe. “It is a hat, and it can talk.” Her eyes go wider and wider and then turn toward Professor Calwern, not quite taking in the whole row of faculty in their chairs.

Kassandra Verkooyen smoothes out her robe while there still is time to do it. In a few minutes she will be in front of all these more experienced people and she wants to make a good impression, even with that clumsy old hat on her head.

Erica Calwern brushes a gloved hand over her brow before slipping her wand back up her sleeve. Walking back towards the hat, she summons the scroll from her place at the faculty table. Unfurling it, she announces, “It is about time we begin, I believe. Faeden, Dolly!”

Dolly Faeden looks startled when her name is called, as though she had no sense of alphabet. Almost automatically comes, “It’s Fi-jen, actually.” An offhand comment to Professor Calwern that will likely as not fail to sink in until much later. She steps up, picks up the hat and places it gingerly upon her head, trying to sit at the same time. A near miss, but Dee makes it to the stool. And waits.

(Faculty) Isolde Morgan cheers quickly and gives Dolly an encouraging smile.

Rawnie Weller claps for Dolly smileing brightly. She nearly shreiks out “Did it hurt?!?” Well she really wanted to know.

Dolly Faeden turns about four shades of pink and removes the hat unsteadily. She doesn’t meet Professor Calwern’s eye and instead scurries off toward the… wait, which table is she supposed to scurry toward? There’s a pause and she decides the one with cheering people, Merlin willing, will be correct. Eep, Sorted!

Running a finger down her list, the Charms Professor comments on Dolly’s sorting, “Fitting. Let’s see if she corrects me in class.” Erica regards the next name before announcing, “Grey, Angelo!”

Angelo Grey trembles at the mention of his name. He walks towards the dirty old hat, shivering, but making an effort to maintain his pose. As he paces silently, time seems to stretch to him. It’s taking so long… He looks at all the people gazing at him, controling his nerves. He picks up the hat and puts it on his head.

(Faculty) Keelan Walsh wrinkles her nose. The first one just had to be Ravenclaw, didn’t she? Still, there’s clapping and a murmur of, “Well, Slytherin will get some of them.”

(Faculty) Bonnie Kensington finds herself elated as a student gets sorted into her old house, remembering her fond days there. “I’m sure all the houses will get some,” Bonnie responds to Keelan’s comment with a smile and mischeivous glint in her eyes.

(Faculty) Melvina Prichard applauds politely as the first student moves her to her grandson’s table, watching the younglings with an amused expression.

Angelo Grey steps down shivering, but visibly happy. He aproaches the table, looking for a place to sit, making an effort to stay on his legs.

Angelo Grey steps down shivering, but visibly happy. He aproaches the Hufflepuff table, looking for a place to sit, making an effort to stay on his legs

First Angelo to Hufflepuff then a spat of Gryffindors who all chitter as they make their way to their new House tables. Then, a Slytherin. Each, called and sorted yet Erica‘s voice never tires or wanes as she announces the next name, “Jitsunari, Chris!” She can’t help but glance over at the Ravenclaw table and one Miss Dolly Faedon as another difficult to pronounce name comes up.

Erica Calwern doublechecks her scroll and mutters, “I will need glasses if the secretary prints these names any smaller.” Louder, she announces to the room, “King, Lyre!”

Lyre King is the sort that has to be reminded to move. When his name is called, someone has to shove him in the shoulder, as he is staring at the cieling. As soon as he is reminded, he breaks into a jog to make up for any time he lost daydreaming. He picks up the hat, sits down, and places it on his head.

Lyre King hops off the stool, drops the hat on it, and goes to sit with his new housemates.

Erica Calwern watches twins get separate with the slice of the Hat’s opinion. The boy heads off to Slytherin, the girl to Gryffindor. The professor doesn’t miss a beat as she calls out, “Raine, Kara!”

Kara Raine looks up at her name, gray eyes wide in surprise. Taking a deep breath, she steps forward just knowing that all eyes are on her, and in a single graceful motion sits upon the stool while placing the hat upon her head. Wincing slightly, she waits for something to happen.

Kara Raine visibly sighs before grinning broadly, quickly hopping down and rushing over to take her place at the Ravenclaw house table.

A Ravenclaw here, a Slytherin there. The Sorting Hat happily does Erica‘s bidding as she dutifully calls off the name of every new student standing before her. “O’Cormac, Aisling!”

Hearing her name being called aloud startles Aisling O‘Cormac, and she glances around slightly nervously before heading to the provided stool. Picking up the hat, she sits, gingerly placing said hat upon her head.

(Faculty) Melvina Prichard draws a deep breath, midway in to the sorting, before turning her gaze toward Astra. She’d not spoken to the woman since everything had resolved over the course of the summer. She found it somewhat disconcerting to be sitting so close to her now. “Astra, dear?” She offers, quietly.

(Faculty) “If you don’t mind ma’am, I’m watching the Sorting.” The words slide off her tongue, hissing through clenched teeth while Astra does not bother to glance at the Headmistress. “I’m rather concerned with who will be entering my care.” Stifled and forcibly civil at best, there is obviously no loved lost for the older woman.

Gasping from the noise the hat made, Aisling staggers upright and heads, beaming, towards her new house’s table.

(Faculty) Keelan Walsh raises an eyebrow and looks longways down the table at Astra and Melvina, and bites her bottom lip. Oh dear.

Angelo Grey claps loudly as he takes a good look at Aisling. “Hi” he offers the first year.

Hufflepuff, always welcoming to each new student, their numbers swelling. Trailing a glove tip down the scroll, Erica‘s eyes scan name after name. A few Ravenclaws are sorted before she calls out, “O’Leary, Heat!”

Heat O‘Leary finally abandons his vain attempts to completely smooth his hair as he approaches the hat, two stray locks sweeping out from their places behind each of his ears. He had given his all, and for the most part it worked–his hair didn’t look too bad, at least it looked intentional now. The boy glances towards Kassandra and lets a grin pass over his lips–she gets to use it after he does, even if there are a few people in between. He carefully takes the hat and settles on the stool as he places it upon his head. Heat‘s eyes pass between all of the tables while he waits for the sorting announcement.

(Faculty) A hint of steel tightens the suddenly intense look that sweeps over Melvina‘s features; an instinctive reaction to what she percieved to be a clearly issued challenge. It took most of her restraint to keep from saying something untoward in reply, but she had become fairly adept at biting her tongue ..some of the time. A deep breath fills her, falling from her lips in a surprisingly even tone of voice, as she turns her gaze back to the sorting. “Of course, Professor Rathe. My appologies. We shall speak later.”

(Faculty) “I’m sure you will speak later, I have little to say.” The retort is quick and sharp, dagger-like and Astra‘s gaze never once flickers backward over her shoulder. Remaining seated very straight, she clamps her mouth shut and her focus remains on the unsorted children and the Slytherin table.

Kassandra Verkooyen leans over to Rawnie, nods to Heat and whispers “The boy with the spittle hair…”

Heat O‘Leary steps down after removing the hat, his face sheet white. He shivers noticeably and wraps his arms about himself before making the trek towards the Slytherin table.

Patsy went to Gryffindor, Orville to Hufflepuff. A nice girl Mary found her way to Gryffindor and an even nicer girl named Sally found her way to Slytherin, following right on Heat’s heels. Erica‘s voice remains strong as she calls out the next name, “O’Shay, Sara!”

Sara O‘Shay quietly steps up to the stool as her name is called. Lifting the hat she sets it on her head, all the while sitting on the stool and crossing her legs all primp and properly. This done Sara casts her gaze out to the crowded, already sorted students, her gaze eventually settling upon her siblings.

(Faculty) Melvina Prichard turns her gaze sharply toward Astra, and her eyes narrow a bit; but ultimately, what comes of her is a subtle sigh. She could, at least on some level, understand. Moving her gaze back to front, she clears her voice and restrains her temper. “As you will, then, dear,” she says, simply. Her expression becoming neutral, but no less confident or authoritive. “I will talk. And you will listen. After the feast.” Leaning forward, she rests her elbows on the table and laces her fingers so that they steeple as she leans forward and rests her lips against them.

(Faculty) Darius Dwight groans. “What a shame!”

Sara O‘Shay offers a bit of a grin as the hat announces her house and stands from the stool and returns the hat to it. That done the young Slytherin girl makes her way towards her house table with little haste. As she sits down Sara offers a bit of a nod towards her siblings. There was, of course, no doubt that shed end up in Slytherin house.

“Imagine that,” the professor muses with a smirk, “an O’Shay in Slytherin. Someday you should surprise us, old hat.” Erica looks back to her list, about half way through from the way she holds the scroll in the middle of its length, “Jitsunari, Chris!”

Chris Jitsunari straightens as he hears his name. The hat obviously couldn’t be that bad, seeing as how none of the other students seemed to be in pain. He looks around and laughs nervously before walking up to the stool and taking a seat and placing the hat on his head.

Chris Jitsunari grins widely at hearing the result, Ravenclaw being his choice house from the moment he first read about Hogwarts. He gets down from the stool and walks to the Ravenclaw table proudly, smiling at the other Ravenclaws .

There is one of those uncomfortable silences as Erica walks up the two steps to her space at the table and takes from it a crystal goblet, filled with a ruby-orange liquor. She takes a sip and her voice seems to come to her with renewed strength as she announces the next student’s name, “Ripple, Rebecca!”

Rebecca Ripple gulps anxiously, and steps up to the hat, wondering how anyone could enchant a hat to think, speak, and even sing. She approaches the stool, sits herself down, and takes a deep breath as she feels the Sorting Hat being lowered onto her head. “What now?” she thinks. She is praying now, that the decision made for her today will be a prudent one.

Rebecca Ripple skips down to the bottom of the steps, giggling with delight. She gleefully sits at the Ravenclaw table…

Erica Calwern strikes quite the pose, liquor in one hand, scroll in the other. Another, longer sip is taken from the goblet as she looks over the list. First the mutter to herself, “How did that name get smudged? Hughe? Hank?” Then realizing that the Hat has shipped off Rebecca to the Ravenclaws, she announces, “Turner, Baldwin!”

Baldwin Turner lowers his head as his name is called, admittedly still quite frightened. Advancing slowly towards the hat, his pace slows as the worried boy gets closer and closer, perhaps without him even realising it. Stopping before Professor Calwern, Baldwin parts his curley hair to look at her directly, “Do I…” Gulp. He surveys the crowd. “Need to… do it… Here?” Biting his tongue, Baldwin seems to accept it is inevitable, sitting down and commenacing visible shakeage.

Baldwin Turner gulps, “I-I-is that a… Is that a good thing?” Hopping from the stool, he lowers his head to avoid eye contact and shuffles hastily towards the table, trying not to make a fool of himself any further.

Erica Calwern is holding the scroll by its very end now and feet upon feet dangle on the floor before her. The line of students near her has shorten considerably while the tables have filled to near bursting with new members, “Verkooyen, Kassandra!” With such precise pronounciation, it is clear she is not allowed to make mistakes when it comes to the children’s names.

A nervous smile rushes across Kassandra Verkooyen‘s face as she approaches the steps, which lead to the stool, with elegant steps. Climbing up the stairs she starts turning the ring on her right hand in excitement. She sits down gently and puts on the vintage hat.

An overwhelming smile gleams on Kassandra Verkooyen‘s face. She stands up gracefully and places the hat back onto the chair. Then she descends towards the Ravenclaw table with blushed cheeks, eased and contented about her destiny, and takes a seat among her housemates.

A quiet boy shuffles his way to Ravenclaw while two louder boys nearly race to Gryffindor upon the Hat’s announcement. Erica can’t help but chuckle at the exuberance before calling out the next name, “Weller, Rawnie!”

When Rawnie is called she runs up to the stool, takes the hat and places it in her head looking a bit comical with the brim covering most of her head. She is simply so excited that she is bounceing on her seat kicking her feet back and forth and twiddling her thumbs. A real “wiggle worm” this one.

Rawnie Weller stands and takes off the hat etting it back onto the stool muttering somthing that sounds a bit like “Starch” to the hat as she runs to take her seat at Gryffindor table.

“Fantastic!” the Charms professor is heard to exclaim softly as hears the Hat’s announcement. Whether it is for Rawnie’s sorting or if her gaze alights upon the final student awaiting their moment of consideration with the Hat. With a certain amount of zeal, Erica calls out, “And finally, Stopps, Warrick!”

Warrick Stopps blinks as his name is called and belatedly stands up a little straighter. Posture, oh, yes, good posture. He clears his throat, and with only another moment of hesitation, he sets his shoulders and marches up the stairs and to the stool. There he takes a sudden seat and puts on the hat like all the others before him.

Erica Calwern looks up from her list and spots Talia still upon the dias. She looks back down at her list, “Stoederman, Smith, Stopps, how could I have?” A long silence and the woman exclaims, “Ah! Caulfield, Talia!”

(Faculty) “Maybe it’s the wine,” Isolde suggests sweetly, mostly to herself.

Primed to the sound of her name, Talia Caulfield hastens forward on short, swift steps with eyes narrowed warily and breath nerve-quickened.

(Faculty) Melvina Prichard simply chortles.

(Faculty) Keelan Walsh bites her lip but for a different reason this time, but tries not to look too amused. After all, there could be students watching and it wouldn’t do any good to embarass Erica by laughing.

With a flick of her wrist, Erica has the scroll roll itself up and sends it back to her seat at the faculty table. The professor walks to the center of the dias and looks down upon the row after row of children, “So begins another year at our old home and for some of us new. At this time, it is my sincerest pleasure,” and her tone and expression do express that very sentiment, “to introduce all of you to our new Headmistress, Professor Prichard!”

Talia Caulfield raises her head in a sharp jerk, eyes rounding with a brief flash, and removes the hat with nimble fingers, rising and slipping it back on the stool with perfect precision before she moves at a sedate pace to join her new housemates at the Slytherin table.

“Thank you, Erica,” Melvina Prichard notes as she purposefully rises from the faculty table, lifting her cherry-wood wand to her neck and tapping the tip against it deftly. “Sonorus summissus,” she murmurs, giving a certain amount of power to her voice so that she may be heard of the student chattering; happy exchanges and exciting tales of places visited and daring-do over the long separation left by the summer holiday, she was certain. Not to mention the animated greetings of those newly appointed to thier houses.

“Pardon me, everyone,” Melvina calls, her voice filling the hall at a surprisingly comfortable volume. She pauses a moment to allow the hall to calm before tapping her wand again to her throat and restoring her normal speaking voice. One that is quiet pleasant, and fully reflective of the warm smile that graces her lips as she looks out over her young audience. “Welcome, everyone, to Hogwarts term for year nineteen hundred and twenty six! My name is Melvina Prichard and I have had great fortune of being appointed new Headmistress of Hogwarts school. I look forward knowing each of you as time passes. Moving on then, I’ve some beginning of term announcements to make.” Pulling a pair of spectacles from a pocket of her emerald robes and resting them on the bridge of her nose, the Headmistress lifts up a tightly-bound scroll which had she’d not appeared to be holding a moment before.

“The standard boilerplate, of course. Our caretaker has asked me to remind you check the updated list of prohibited items and punishable offenses that have been thoughtfully posted in each of your common rooms–” Drawing in a deep breath, the Headmistress begins to unroll the wound parchment, “Spellwork outside of the classroom, rough play, pranks, hijinxs, dungbombs, Whipple’s Pimple Powder..” Her brow furrows for a moment and the bottom of the scroll slips through her fingers, clattering to the table, spilling over the edge, and rolling across the floor until exhausting itself about half-way across the Great Hall. Her eyes widenning slightly, Melvina sets her end of the very long list down and vanishes it with a flick of her wand. “The list goes on. Be sure to check it.”

After quiet resumes, Melvina takes up a blessedly smaller sheet of parchment. “Hogwarts tradition demands that I remind you the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds to all students; it’s equally tradition that some of you will choose to ignore this reminder.” A rueful chuckle escapes her as she shares a knowing smile with the hall. “Know then that detention is the minimum punishment for entering the Forbidden Forest without a member of staff or faculty along side you, and that such acts will almost always result in a major loss of house points as well.” With small glance around and a pause to clear her throat, Melvina continues. “Naturally, we ask that you respect and defer to your Prefects. Also, I’d like to congratulate our new Head Boy and Head Girl, Martin Foster and Eliza Marlowe. Mister Foster and Miss Marlowe, please stand.” She claps once the two have risen, leading those who care to join her in a modest round of applause, before continuing on.

(Faculty) Settling back into her chair as the last student finishes with the Hat, Astra merely turns and gives a bland smile to the rest of the faculty or at least those within eyeshot. At Melvina’s introduction, the defense professor gives nothing more than an unpleasant hissing sound that she manages to keep to a minimum of sound so that the students don’t see (or hear) what she’s up to.

“Very good, Head Boy, Head Girl. On to faculty. I have the pleasure of introducing several new faculty members to you, and to announce the return of a few others. Heading up our Wizo-Music classes will be international wizo-musician Darius Dwight. Great honor, there. Filling our other vacancies will be, for Astronomy, Mister Avery Fallon, Care of Magical Creatures, Mister Quintus Helit, and last but hardly least, Divination, a one Miss Bonnie Kensington. Also, returning from hiatus, Professors Isolde Morgan and Dante Hayward shall be resuming their posts as masters of Arithmancy and Muggle Studies, respectively. Ravenclaws will note that along with reclaiming her Arithmancy classroom, Professor Morgan is also be resuming her duties as Ravenclaw Head of House. Similarly, Hufflepuffs will be interested to know that Professor Sedgewick has been officially named your Head of House Hufflepuff for the coming year.” Melvina waits one last time for applause before plowing on. One large, deep, relieved breath and Melvina finally sets down the parchment and removes her glasses, slipping them back in to the pocket where she found them. “That said, I have only one more thing to mention before we start in on the delicious feast I know you’re all patiently waiting to savor. Seeing that we have so many new faces gracing us this year, in the spirit of celebration and greeting, I’ve decided to hold a small function. A barefoot social. This dance will semi-formal, open to all students of all years, faculty, and staff, and will include music, naturally, and an outdoor feast.” Her smilewarms in to something almost sly, however, as she looks out at her young crowd. “But what social would be complete without courtship? So, for fun, I’ve decided to make this dance a bit unusual; our ladies will need ask our gentlemen for the honor of an afternoon’s companionship.” She waits, pleasantly, for the reaction to that before at last finishing up. “I’d like to form an events council, made up of students from all years, to help me prepare; if you’d like to be on said committee, you may contact me through any of the usual means. Exact details regarding date and time of the barefoot social shall follow shortly. Once your bellies are full and you gossip abated, please follow your Prefects to your respective common rooms, and have a wonderful school year. Let us eat.” And with small nod and a sly, lingering grin, Melvina slips casually back in to her seat.

(Faculty) Isolde Morgan claps quickly and sends her former House a warm smile. “Eliza. Good choice,” is her opinion before she unfolds a napkin on her lap.

(Faculty) Turning her head and looks to Erica, Astra‘s face is a mask of gravity but her eyes shine with deviant mischief. “My dearest, most darlingist Miss Calwern, could I have the pleasure of asking you to the dance?” This is said just before Melvina reseats herself but is certainly loud enough to be overheard by some of the faculty.

(Faculty) Darius Dwight peers over to Astra, having indeed heard that. My my. Mischief aplenty.

(Faculty) Erica Calwern has taken her seat, next to Astra’s, so the reply is not quite as well heard as the invitation. “Why, I would consider noone else!” The woman promptly drains her goblet. No more is it set on the table, empty, than it is immediately refilled with the same, thick ruby liquid of before.

(Faculty) Karina Sedgewick smiles at Eliza as her Head Girlship is announced. Her hardworking Quidditch captain certainly earned it. With the formalities now concluded she takes a sip of pumpkin juice, her eyes sparkling as she overhears Astra and Erica’s conversation. “And I was going to ask you, Astra,” she says with feigned disappointment. “Now who am I suppose to go with?”

(Faculty) Darius Dwight drums his fingers on the table.

(Faculty) A dark chortle burbles from Astra‘s lips and a slow smile broadens and touches the corners of her eyes. “Well then, I am most honored. Of course, then there’s the trouble of just which of us will wear a damn dress. You always were smashing in gowns, but I suppose we could both go in breeches.” Reaching into her cloak she pulls out a rock crystal flask and opens the silver stopper. “Oh darling Karina! You can come with us! You can wear the dress, it’ll be simply divine.” Taking a drink from the container she grins wickedly down the table.

(Faculty) Melvina Prichard resumes her seat with at the faculty table with a quite-pleased-with-herself sort of expression, passing a small glance to both Astra and Erica, but dismissing thier slight with a slight roll of her eyes. Holding a job, a position, authority again after all these years — it was a beautiful thing to feel needed again.

(Faculty) Erica Calwern leans close over the table so she can see Karina. Pointing a finger in Melvina’s direction, she smirks as she comments suggestively, “Bet you Merlin’s wand noone’s asked her yet! And don’t think you can steal the dress wearing duties from me.”

(Faculty) Isolde Morgan turns slowly to peer at Erica, a goblet of wine halfway to her lips. Probably deciding it’s not a good time to ask, she goes back to her meal.

(Faculty) Melvina Prichard turns a brilliant grin toward Erica, sly and mischievous as they come. “I wouldn’t be something that valuable unless you’re alright with losing it.”

(Faculty) Keelan Walsh turns pink around the corners of her face and, by turns, red. She busies herself with a nice cup of tea and tries not to look either nosy or completely shocked.

(Faculty) “Excellent, I always preferred the trousers anyway!” Astra uses a stage whisper and tilts her chin at Darius. “You could always ask Darius, he was a gent in school although the years may have changed him.” The sly smirk trembles on the corner of her mouth as she fights back just laughing at the mischief. “Oh ho! Melvina, you’re a sly devil. You and Erica should go together. Then I can sit and pine after you both. I bet by the end of the night you’ll have stolen everything between the two of you, including everyone’s hearts.”

(Faculty) Darius Dwight smiles to Astra, and remarks in his usual deep voice, “Professor Rathe is far too kind to me. She’s accurate, but neglects many of the more impertinent moments for which I was unfortunately famed in our time here.”

(Faculty) Erica Calwern listens to Astra’s most recent commentary, then reaches over and tips her glass to take a peek inside it, “You’ve got me beat, don’t you? How many goblets did you quaff while I was standing about yelling names?”

(Faculty) Melvina Prichard samples a few bites of this and that before finally giving a great, pleasant sigh. The events of the last few days had been rather exhausting for her, and she was more than ready to lay herself down for a nice, long night of rest. “Ladies, gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me.”

(Faculty) Darius says, “Let me see you to your office, headmistress,” Darius’s wry tone somehow manages to make that sound rakish, rather than brownnosing. “You’ve not been here in a long time, and if rumors are to be believed, a lot has changed.”

(Faculty) “I haven’t had actually but I figure if I’m going to see the Slytherin after the feast, I probably shouldn’t smell too horrible.” Drinking another swallow from the flask, Astra pockets it and then reaches for her own goblet. As Melvina excuses herself, the head of Slytherin turns. “Have a good night then, Headmistress.” Smirking at Darius’ offer, she chuckles into her goblet, “Same old Darius.”

(Faculty) Isolde Morgan finishes with her small meal and also begins to get to her feet. “My dear colleagues, it’s been a treat. I shall see you in the hallways, I’m sure.” She then also departs, not quite in the right direction, but it’s still early in the night.

(Faculty) Keelan Walsh pulls, from some hidden pocket, a rather worn book and reads while eating an impromptu sandwhich–bits of roast beef tucked into roll. Her ears burn, but the Herbology Professor is urgently attempting not to listen to this scandelous conversation.

(Faculty) “Ah, how kind of you, Darius, dear,” Melvina beams, lifting herself from her seat with a decidely apprecative expression. “I wanted to discuss a few things with you, anyway. Music for my little surpise social, not the least of which. Hooking her arm in to his, she flashes a smile to Astra; a smile girded with flint. “And you, Astra, dear. We will talk, soon.” Reaching up to pat Darius’ arm affectionately, “Ready then?”

(Faculty) Darius Dwight smiles, “Of course,” and departs.

(Faculty) Bonnie Kensington finds herself wondering, too, what her office looks like, and perhaps, even, where it is. The Divination teacher gathers herself up, having finished eating. “I hope to get etter acquainted with you all very soon,” the woman states happily, standing. “I’m off to investigate my classroom and office.” She chuckles and walks away slowly, going to explore the castle, and finding that she doesn’t remember as much as she thought she would.

Just in direct view of the sunshine, Bonnie Kensington has situated herself at a table near to the bar. A thick volume sits open before her, though she appears to be spending more attention on the sunshine than the volume itself. As she gazes towards the window, glad to be out of the heat of midday, her eyes pause on a woman sitting near the window. While the woman does not appear to have an Hogwarts insignia, and could very well be a tutor rather than a bonafide Hogwarts Professor, Bonnie decides to chance it. She stands and slinks over to the table where Isolde is surrounded by scrolls and stacks of paper. “Excuse me,” she begins. “Apologies for the intrusion, but I was just wondering. You see, I’m beginning my post at Hogwarts this year and was wondering whether you might be a teacher there, too.” A pause, and then Bonnie quickly adds, “Given all of the papers and miscellany, of course.”

The unusually warm summer day fails to penetrate the darker confines of the Leaky Cauldron’s main room. While the windows’ drapes are opened wide to let in the cheery sunlight, the room itself remains cool, with a hint of humidity that would otherwise be stifling. Isolde Morgan is seated next to one of the windows, idly watching the passing Londoners, not one of whom looks back through the window, of course. The Hogwarts professor has placed a small stack of papers on her table, along with a couple scrolls which are rolled tightly and bound with ribbon. In her hand is a small tea cup, steam rising lazily from the milky surface.

Isolde Morgan turns away from the window with a mildly glazed-over expression that quickly vanishes as Bonnie’s words sink in. She brightens and nods her head once while carefully setting down her teacup. “As a matter of fact, I am,” she replies, smoothly getting to her feet with a smile. “Isolde Morgan. Arithmancy. I’m just returning to Hogwarts this year. Short sabbatical and all that.”

“Well, fantastic,” Bonnie exclaims, appearing geniuinely pleased. “At least it won’t mean I’m completly new; always nice to have an acquaintance, of course.” The woman bestows a beaming smile and holds out her hand. “Bonnie Kensington, pleased to meet you. I’ll be taking over Divination this year.” While the volume under her arm may have previously given this away, the woman chooses to state this anyway, as her acquaintance has already expressed her own focus of study. “I’m very much looking forward to the start of the term. What house are you out of at Hogwarts, Ms…” Bonnie appears to be grasping for a name.

“Isolde Morgan,” the professor repeats cheerfully as she clasps the other woman’s hand briefly. “And I was a proud, if sometimes distracted member of Hufflepuff. It still feels a little like home, even today,” she shares before gesturing to one of the other chairs at her table. “Care to join me? And divination, you say,” Isolde muses as her cheerful smile grows the tiniest bit crooked. “So we’re actually in the same field, more or less.”

“Glad to,” Bonnie agrees, taking a seat in the mirroring chair. “I’m a former Ravenclaw. I’m looking forward to seeing the old place. It’s been twenty-seven years since I was last there.” The woman sighs a bit, and smiles. “Somehow, it just doesn’t feel like it could possibly have been that long.” And indeed, Bonnie looks as if she somehow thinks she’s still a spry young girl, just out of Hogwarts still. “Arithmancy, that’s very interesting. I never did take it in school. I chose Runes instead.” A pause. “I don’t think I even passed my OWLs in that subject either!” She chuckles and glances over all of Isolde’s papers. “My, that looks even more complicated than I remember it being. Perhaps you could teach me, too.” She chuckles.

Isolde Morgan laughs softly as she takes a seat again and reclaims her teacup. “Oh, this is just some of my own work,” she explains, nodding to the stack of papers before taking a sip of the cooled tea. “I try to keep the material for the students as basic as possible. I think it allows them plenty of room to make their own interpretations,” Isolde continues to explain, gesturing slightly with one hand. “As long as they can logically explain themselves and their thought process, of course.” She flashes Bonnie a smile and leans back in her chair. “I did take divination while at Hogwarts,” she says simply before asking, “So what is your take on it? How do you use it? Plan to teach it?” She then goes back to sipping at her tea.

“Well, I do intend to make the students understand that Divination is not some mamby-pamby subject,” Bonnie replies frankly. “After all, it takes skill to read the signs, as well as a gift.” She pauses and smiles at the Arithmancy professor. “I also intend to place high importance on learning the history of each method of Divinating. After all, without the history of it, how can one accurately comprehend its relevance and the significance of certain aspects of it.” She pauses, glancing over all of the papers. “How did you do in Divination when you were at school, Ms Morgan? Was Professor D’estiny still there when you enrolled in the course?”

Isolde Morgan appears delighted with Bonnie’s answers and sits up a little straighter. “Well, I certainly like the sound of that. I never had the gift for it, myself, which was reflected rather dismally in my class performance,” she answers, rolling her eyes heavenward. “And yes, D’estiny was there for… perhaps only a year more after I graduated. Though I didn’t always keep up with the Hogwarts news in the years just after graduation.” The professor toys with her teacup for a moment, either daydreaming or considering. “I’ve always wondered…” But she shakes her head, moves her teacup out of the way and begins gathering her things. “Well, I am sure we will have plenty of time for discussions. The divination arts have always fascinated me,” she tells Bonnie, smiling once again. “I am due at the Ministry in half an hour, however, so another time.” She quietly gets to her feet. “Will you be at Hogwarts before the term begins? If so, we will probably run into one another.”

“Yes, I was hoping to get there perhaps a week in advance so that I could get settled before the students arrive. No sense in being scattered about when trying to establish oneself, is there?” Bonnie laughs animatedly and bestows a large smile at Isolde. “I have a feeling the two of us will have a lot of discussions.” She smiles and stands as Isolde stands. “It has been a real pleasure meeting you, Ms Morgan.” The woman bows her head a bit and steps aside. “We’ll be seeing each other soon.” Bonnie plucks up her text. “I’ll leave you to your things and let you get situated to head up to the Ministry building. I hope all goes well there.” As she steps away, Bonnie smiles and waves again, “Until later!”