The large square room that served as the heart of the Auror Training program hadn't changed much since the days when Jonas Trevelyan had been trying to earn his scarlet robes.  There were times when he thought that it hadn't changed at all -- the enormous wooden oak tables carved with amusing graffiti from Auror trainees gone by and the heavy dragon-hide chairs that groaned whenever someone tried to drag them across the floor certainly hadn't, though the musty smell that emanated from the latter had gotten a little worse.

What few differences he did notice seemed minute in comparison: a few more scuffs on the ground, a couple of scorch marks on the back wall.  (Jonas took some amusement in attributing the latter to Ed Pratt, whose training he had entirely missed while he was living as a Muggle, but enjoyed imagining to be particularly explosive.)  The biggest change lay in the quality of writing on the enormous chalkboard that nearly took up an entire wall: dire warnings about the importance of CONSTANT VIGILANCE and lines and lines of Scrimgeour's neat recitation of proper procedures had been replaced by barely readable scribbles, complicated acronyms, and elaborate diagrams that occasionally took Jonas hours to draw.

For once, he hadn't been illustrating as the trainees entered the room; the notes on the white chalkboard (his requests for a whiteboard to save their ears from the ear-piercing squeals of squeaking chalk had been partially lost in translation) were the same as they'd been the prior week, when he and Archer had led a discussion of crime scene investigation and proper evidence documentation.  Well, really Archer had led it -- Jonas had gotten so caught up in drawing elaborate reconstructions of different search patterns and adorning them with stick figure drawings of each Auror in the office that he had never managed to participate in the actual discussion.

"No, they're not angry because I'm throwing them," Jonas informed Archer in amused exasperation.  He tucked the last of the protesting blue-and-white paper balls out of sight in a drawer, closing it to muffle their angry squawking.  "They're angry because their eggs got stolen, alright? Afternoon, you lot.  Take a seat," he said in a slightly more authoritative voice, gesturing the trainees who had entered toward the musty leather chairs.  "You won't need quills this time, just your notes."

The tables were normally aligned in rows facing the white-board, though they were occasionally moved out of the way for more practical lessons.  Today, though, they had been arranged in a rough rectangle, with all the chairs facing towards the center.  In the center of the tables sat a shallow stone basin marked with runes, its liquid contents already glowing with a faint blue light.

When Jonas talked about Muggle things, Archer found him even more incomprehensible.  This insane man.  Why would the birds be angry? And what pigs wanted to steal eggs?  Archer had seen plenty of pigs in Piddlehinton growing up, and never, had one ever stolen an egg.  He didn't really think birds had he capacity to be angry at anything either, at least unless they were being thrown, and that was what really didn't make sense to him. 

Sitting in the front of the room, Archer had his feet up on the desk, while Jonas was shoving the paper balls in the drawer on the other side and sighed.  "I still don't understand why in seven hells the bloody pigs would steal eggs in the first place- and what about the forts? Where do the forts fit in?" 

He shook his head, running his hand through his hair.  He did not know how he dealt with this person, back then and most assuredly now.  Their partnership at first, had been interesting.  Now it was just mind-numbing, particularly when they were saddled with training exercises. 

He was just glad when the trainees were filing in and he could ignore the squawking birds and the confusing pigs that built forts because of eggs - he really just... it wasn't his prerogative to understand that.  It was not, unfortunately, the only thing Archer didn't understand about this day: he and Jonas could not have made worse wardrobe choices 

Whatever, maybe the trainees wouldn't notice the twin shirts.  Maybe they'd be too sleepy eyed and angered from duties on paperwork duty or the assignments that they'd just sit down and be glad to start it. 

"Quickly," Archer added in, "We don't have all day, and no diagrams this time either."  He shot a look at Trevelyan, just to stern-face remind him of that. 

Eha[1] strode in with her fellow trainees to find the now-familiar lecture hall pretty much exactly as they'd left it following their last class. Sure, the tables had been moved around, but nothing else changed. The graphs were the same, the notes were the same, even their supervisors, arguing over poultry and pork products, were the same as ever.

The pensive, on the other hand, was a surprise. Eha would recognize anywhere. It resembled the one her father kept in his office at home, though his was smaller and contained within a metal basin suspended like a cauldron from an iron rack. Differences aside, there was no mistaking the swirling white and blue of memories within the bowl. Whatever they were planning, it was bound to be interesting.

"Afternoon, you lot.  Take a seat."

"Aye aye," she said with a slight salute, and slid into an empty chair at the far corner of the rectangle. She spread out her notes the way she liked them, propped her head up on  gloved hand and eyed their two instructor as the other trainees got settled. After a moment, she smirked. "Nice shirts, sirs."

1.	Dressed in Auror Casual, as usual.