Morning

The Headmaster was like a great ship on the waves: the sea of students parted before him as he steadily navigated the halls between class times. He didn't even need to look up from the most recent memorandum from the school governors, in one hand the parchment, in the other a muffin.

There was a general feeling of healthy industriousness over the whole castle and even with (or due to?) the normal hitches, his first term back at Hogwarts was going well. He'd barely thought the thought when the newest Slytherin prefect intercepted him.

"Good morning, Miss Foley! I trust you're just killling it out there?"

Since that nasty Witch Weekly article had made its rounds through Hogwart's gossip mill, Naomi had been setting down a new law during her prefect rounds. One wrong move or word about the likkle Spectre and people found themselves (or their things) getting confundus-ed, getting stuck somewhere, getting lost, or getting plagued with clumsiness. Eventually, Naomi would make herself known and warn them, or threaten them about their behavior. However, some metamorph enhanced hearing and an arsenal of well-placed hexes, jinxes, and threats only got a girl so far! So now  the Slytherin prefect was on the hunt for one of the professors.

Should she report to her Head of House, who may concoct fair ways to ward of the storm of misinformation? Or should she report to Storm, and ask for advice on how to concoct a good detention to dissuade any of the inevitable bullying? With her ombre black and amber locs-of-the-day twisted into a severe ponytail, Naomi had decided to make her way in the general direction of their offices until she ran into one of them.

But, once she saw the hulking form of someone with more authority, the prefect took a sharp detour.

• "Good morning, Miss Foley! I trust you're just killling it out there?"

""Literally?" Naomi smiled and gestured her hand at the muffin as she continued to respond in questions, "Like a heart attack from a sugary pastry?"

Then her fidgety wand hand curled under her chin as her voice dipped into a more sickly sweet tone, "Can I?" Naomi knew students could keep a lot of mischief under the staff's radar, but she hoped Greyfriar had an inkling of where she was coming from.

It had not escaped Greyfriar's notice that Naomi Foley seemed to have developed a keen concern for his health; a perplexing preoccupation, surely, due to Greyfriar being barely over fifty, and other than his dire Affliction, he was ship shape. Prime of his life really. He could only attribute Foley's fretting to a combination of her relative youth.

"It is youthful slang, Foley. Keep up," he said in mock seriousness. "There's a Zero Casualty policy this year.  We're trying something new and as a Prefect I hope you'll give it a fair chance."

But he checked her over again. Her sweet tone seemed to be icing on top of a rage cake. That would be no good at all. The Headmaster was indeed invested in Naomi having a smooth term.

"Why? What news, Prefect."

The foot traffic continued to flow around them both, Knox's stature and status keeping way the tide.

Naomi pursed her lips into a skewed pout and blew a strawberry at the headmaster's asking her to try out the Zero Casualty policy. As Greyfriar asked her the news she realized she had maybe been spending too much time around legilimancers.

"I guess you don' read Witch Weekly, or know someone who goes on about it?" Her hands snaked down to her hips and she held her head a bit higher, "Likkle first year Slytherin, Feliks Spectre, got dragged by 'dat rag." Her own voice began to drag roughly in her throat.

"'Dem found out his mum was 'dat recently deceased Almasy and decided to paint him and his family as some dark foreboding mystery," her voice took on that sickly sweet tone again, "some impending little menace-in-'di-making worthy of public scrutiny."

She twisted her head to the side to cast a dark glare towards the passers-bys as she spat, "A type of 'scrutiny' I've yet to be impressed wit."

Witch Weekly? Knox's normally cheery expression turned a shade of disgusted. He shook his head. Politely, he did not peruse that 'rag'.

And then, his face was one of shock and wrath! His concern growing, he looked less the paternal old bear and inkling more like a beast of some danger. He saw his upset reflected Naomi's and he felt proud of her. It sounded to him like she'd been holding the tides at bay in protection of her First Year. Good kid.

But her protection might be escalating. He tried to keep his voice low as he laid a hand on her shoulder to take her with him down the hall.  "Have you a copy of that offending bit of fiction? I dread to assume our Feliks has already seen it?"

Naomi was satisfied with the headmaster's visible rage, even though she suddenly felt dwarfed by his looming form and fury. The prefect let the headmaster guide her before she pulled out the neatly folded page, decorated in  colorful designs that framed the iconically stylish and playful typography of a Witch Weekly scoop.

"Saw it soon as it came in 'di post, 'den went and hid." Naomi's matched her bold, lilting tone with his lowered volume, "And I t'ink Almasy had 'di kid t'rown into some kinda children's home." Naomi looked up at Knox, her anger subsiding for grimacing concern, "Havin an actual parent, family--just people to depend on?" Her voice then lowered again with the weight of what she said next.

"Seems like a way new t'ing for Spectre. Feels like hunting poachers in a dragon's den."

Greyfriar took the article, adjusted his glasses, then read while they walked slowly in the direction of the stairs. He shook his head, and he shook his head.

"This is preposterous. He's just a boy." He handed it back.

"We are aware of Feliks's situation," Greyfriar assured Naomi; Professor Storm had filled everyone, the staff and faculty,  on after Storm made the visit, the details relevant to making sure Feliks was safe and had what he needed to adjust.

He shook his head again. Was the press so hard-up for continuing the tragedy of Ira Almasy's handiwork that they had to drag a little one through this? He was just a boy.

"Prefect Foley, have you brought this to the attention of Professor Darkfall?"  It was not accusatory, but rather a collaborative question between two school leaders, between two responsible parties in the success of Mr. Spectre.

Naomi slowly walked alongside the headmaster and nodded along with his statements. So the staff were prepared for something like this? A little warning would have been nice, but, then again, she also had only been made a prefect 14ish hours prior to everything spiraling out of control. She could have only done so much.

"Was lookin' for him, or Storm, but saw you first." Naomi took back the article and carefully folded it back together, "Spectre's quick to trust others, but also quick to suspect 'de,--an easy target for bullying." She the folded paper back into her pocket, "So I was gon' ask about issuing or hosting detentions, or maybe find some other prefects and ask for help managing t'ings." Merlin knew Kelvin was probably tired of her constantly complaining about it.

That made Knox Greyfriar smile, Naomi Foley ready to roll on with detentions and demerits and deductions in the name of her Prefect duties. They'd reached the staircases, so he stopped their stroll and clasped his hands behind his back.

"How about this: take this issue directly to Professor Darkfall and refer any detention-worthy infractions to him, at least for now. And if you'd please advise all the other Prefects on the matter. Words not wands when intervening, if you can. I'm confident that you and the rest of Prefects can quell any sharp tongues. We can re-evaluate if matters escalate? Acceptable, Miss Foley?"

The Headmaster was still considering his own next actions. His instinct was to leap to emphatic defense of Feliks and burn Witch Weekly to the ground in a demonstrative fireball, but he was well practiced in mitigating that impulse in his years. No. Once Darkfall was briefed - and he had every confidence Foley would manage that swiftly - he'd find out what Darkfall would need.  They'd certainly want to touch base with Feliks's guardians. Greyfriar had connections in London.

Though the headmaster's seemed  content Naomi lightly tut her tongue against her teeth before she breathed,  "All right, all right." Of course, people could be made into klutzes and confused with wandless resourcefulness, but the Slytherin decided to hold her tongue back on voicing that thought. She cave a wry smile, "I'll get on wit' my hunt. Later headmaster!"

And with that she spin on her heel, whipped her ponytail around, and marched I off towards one of Darkfall's usual haunts.

Sebastian was lounging under a tree grading papers. While he didn't mind the dungeons at all, he sometimes felt it was good to get out into the fresh air. :hmm, perhaps I should teach a lesson outside as well. it might do some of them good to see what changes when you alter where you make a potion." He thought as he looked over them. He also felt it was good to do this as it seemed to make some students less nervous to meet him out side of the class room or his office.

As he graded  papers he saw a few students not to far away whispering about something. He caught a few words but not enough to understand what they were talking about he did hear them mention "A little child of a sociopath and murderess." He stopped grading papers and looked that them hard. "I don't know who you are speaking of I it ends now. We do not talk about such things and don't spread rumors like that either. Now off you go the lot of you. If I  hear any of these rumors, I will make sure that you see detention until next year!" He barked and watched as they all paled and rush off. He shook his head and picked up the stack of papers to move back to his office.

He was about to open the door when he spotted Naomi all but marching towards him. "Miss Foley, you look fit to spit fiendfyre with out the need of word or wands. Please come in and tell me what has you in such a temper." He said and walked in and closed the door behind her as she came  through.

As her head of house flagged her down Naomi shot him a grin "I'd love to try."

But the smile quickly disappeared after he ushered her into his office. Then she spun to face him, lips wrly pressed together as she produced the offending article, "I take it you don' read Witch Weekly either? 'Dem listed you as a bachelor for some poll, if I remember right."

Her lilt came out a bit more stilted and clinical than she would have liked, but she wasn't too easily amused at the moment.

"With Weekly? That old trash rumor mongering rag!? No, I don't read it, but what was that about a poll about me?" He took the pages she handed him and started reading, his face getting darker with each sentence. He snarled as he set the paper down. "I just overheard a couple of students gossiping about this very thing. It upsets me greatly that this has already made it's way around. I can only assume since you are here that something has happened to Mister Spectre. Tell me what has happened.

He took a seat at his desk, eyes intense on her as he waited to hear what had cause her such anger

"Ah don' t'ink the bachelor t'ing was too important, just some reader poll..." Naomi trailed off as she watched Darkfall's face grow—well, dark. Not unlike the anger that had haunted Greyfriar's face a moment ago. As the professor fumed and took a seat, Naomi found a chair to perch herself on the end seat of.

"I don' t'ink it's too bad yet, but Spectre is scared and doesn't got enough first year cuteness or social savvy to get out of every confrontation. Probably been called a few names, probably havin' to deal wit' rumors about Almasy's influence—bein' sorted into Slytherin's just icing on 'di cake." Naomi waved a dismissiv hand towards the hallway door, "I've been shutting people down whenever I hear 'dem talkin' 'bout it, but I'm not sure it'd done anyt'ing, so I'm t'inking I'm gonna need a better deterrent."