Silvia paced.  She excelled at pacing, and had probably achieved a mastery in striding, but this was not the slick brooding pace she'd learned from her grandfather.  This was a twelve year old's 'Oh-god-oh-god-oh-god-my-grandfather's-going-to-kill-me' pace.  It was short-legged and jerky, halting now and then for her to glance out the window, or stare blankly at the wall, or bite her lips.  Feeling panicky and claustrophobic, Silvia's mind darted between imagining Faustus--alone, hurt, lost, stolen--and picturing her grandfather once she finally got up the nerve to write to him explaining that she had lost the very expensive owl he'd given her.  He would be furious--tangibly, air-tensingly furious.  There would be a Howler with her name on it, she might even be disinherited in front of all of Slytherin: Silvia your grandmother and I are very disappointed.  It turns out you're a dirty daughter of a blood-traitor after all and, hence forth, no more a Goyle than your filthy muggle father . . .

Silvia began to hiccup.

But none of this would happen, would it?  Because, from what she'd heard, it was Biladeau-Yukawa's job to solve problems for the students.  Silvia would just have to tell her the owl was missing and the counselor would do the rest.  There was probably a very simple spell for finding lost owls, and Biladeau-Yukawa would know it.  She hoped.

After all, she'd all ready tried everything else.  Faustus wasn't in the owlery, or most of Hogwart's halls, or tucked away in some bit of shrubbery on the castle grounds--she'd even ventured along the fringe of the Forbidden Forest, heart thudding in her chest as she called his name and strained to hear the owl's chuckling reply.  She'd wracked her brains fruitlessly for hours, trying to imagine where the ill-tempered bird might be hiding.  The counselor wasn't just a hope; she was her last hope. 

Squaring her shoulders, Silvia faced the door, knocking tentatively against its solid mass.  No, a Goyle was never tentative--shaking herself out of it, she tried again, banging her fist against the wood. 

Maiko’s day had been relatively busy so far—hell, her week had been busy. She had tomorrow to look forward to, as she was going to meet with an old friend that she hadn’t seen in a long time. However, she wanted to get all her paperwork done and files organized and properly secured before she did so.  Mai was very nearly finished with her paperwork when she heard a soft knock at the door. She stood up and tilted her head to the side slightly, unsure if she had heard anything. But then the soft knock was quickly followed by a louder, more sure knock. Someone, evidently, wanted to contact her.

She answered the door with a smile, and looked down at Silvia, secretly pleased that the second year was shorter than her—there were a few who had surpassed her in height already. “Come in, Miss Bog-Goyle.” Mai said gently and with an almost motherly tenderness. She ushered Silvia in and closed the door behind her, silently but swiftly. The counselor sat down in one of her squishy chairs and motioned for Silvia to sit down as well. “Would you like a snack? Some tea? I ‘ave some cookies around ‘ere somewhere.” In fact, she had a bag of cookies made from scratch in one of her drawers. 

Finally, after getting everything settled, she looked at the Slytherin directly, “What brings you ‘ere today?”  She spoke with such open composure that it was obvious that the student was more than welcome to visit the office. Her question was not critical, nor was it harsh. It was unpretentious, direct, and simply put—welcoming.

Silvia stood awkwardly as the counselor bustled behind her desk, trying to decide whether she wanted anything, any tea or biscuits.  Her stomach was small and hot and knotted, and her throat drawn tight so that when she swallowed she felt a lump.  But courtesy took hold of her and she nodded at the teapot, willing to believe in the soothing powers of a hot cuppa given the circumstances.  Getting a hold of herself, she took the guest chair.

She hiccuped.

"I--My owl, Faustus, is missing." she stuttered, trying to find a way into the topic.  "Somebody stole him, I'm sure of it.  A-and now I can't find him, and I've searched all over--"

Hearing as her own voice began to quaver, she cut herself off and took a deep, shuddering breath.  Her dark eyes watered uncontrollably, and she blinked rapidly.  More hiccups wracked her ribcage, each one like a punch to the sternum.

"You need to find him.  Or else my grandfather--he'll--" she tried to find an appropriate threat, something her grandfather would level against a school who spurned his granddaughter.  Yet all she could think of was his thunder-cloud face when he heard she'd lost her owl.  Her jaw worked without words and she slumped beneath her shoulders, biting her lips.  He'll disinherit me.  He'll send a howler to disinherit me.  He'll throw me out of his house and I'll never graduate from Hogwarts and everyone will laugh--

Maiko’s eyes softened and she got Silvia some tea and biscuits. “What makes you think that somebody stole him?” She asked softly, taking a sip of her own cup of tea. This girl was distressed, she was worried about her owl, and of course the reperations that she may face from her family for losing such a creature. She wasn’t about to doubt htat Silvia’s family would overreact over such a thing, for she had seen many families who would. Prized pets were also sometimes viewed as of high importance as any other person in the family, and losing a pet could be as disastrous as losing a family member. No matter what Silvia thought, Mai could not simply find the owl for her. She had too much on her plate as it is, and although she would have loved to look for the owl with Silvia, she had an appointment with another student in a half hour.

“I can’t find the owl for you—but I could give you some suggestions on ‘ow to find Faustus.” Mai bit on her bottom lip pensively and took another sip of her tea. “You could put some posters around the school if you ‘ave pictures of ‘im, I could ‘elp you with that. I also suggest finding a student who would be willing to ‘elp you search the grounds. Maybe ‘e is injured and ‘asn’t been found yet, or maybe ‘e is lost.”  Maiko took out a piece of paper and wrote down a list of students who would probably be willing to help—it was a long list that included all of the prefects, the head boy, and a few students who were from other schools.

She put stars by the names of the students who would be the most likely to help, which included Heinrich Faust and Zel Trumble. Faust, because she secretly found it amusing that is last name was very smilar to the name of Silvia’s owl. “Zel is tall, skinny and pale. But ‘e is a natural when it comes to animals. He spends most of ‘is time outside. You may also want to ask Hagrid or Tulojow if they ‘ave seen an owl around that fits Faustus’ description.

Silvia frowned, sipping her tea to hide her displeasure and give herself something to do.  It was a little hot, but she didn't mind--at the moment, she had more pressing issues.  The hot liquid soothed her hiccups at least.  But the counselor didn't seem to be taking her seriously. 

"What do you mean, 'makes me think--'" she shook her head.  "This is obviously somebody's idea of a, a prank."  In Silvia's mouth the word had the same venom as 'genocide.'  A sigh fluttered from her lips and the girl deflated again, sinking back into self-pity and anxiety.  At this rate I'm never getting my owl back. 

She listened numbly as the counselor recommended putting up posters or finding some student willing to help her look.  All she was hearing was that the woman wasn't willing to help.  By now, however, she'd begun to calm down and had begun thinking rationally again.  Maybe she was right, and Faustus hadn't been stolen--sometimes owls fought, and she'd seen wild birds chase the domesticated owls through the sky.  Yes, that made sense, and also wasn't her fault.  Silvia sat up and craned her neck to read the list the counselor was writing; she recognized a couple of names, vaguely. 

"Tall, pale . . . you mean that albino kid?" she asked bluntly, remembering seeing a Hufflepuff prefect wandering around like an errant beanstalk.   

Mai chuckled lightly at Silvia’s description of Zel. “Yes, ‘im.” She said gently, “He enjoys animals, and I believe ‘e would be willing to ‘elp you look for your owl.” The counselor replied, “Do you ‘ave any photographs of your owl? Or a description? I could ask Hagrid and a few other staff members to look out for Faustus.” Really, she did want to help the student, but there was really only so much she could do. Almost anything could have happened; he could have gotten lost when delivering a letter, he could have gotten in a fight and was injured, or maybe he was out hunting, and Silvia simply was never around the Owlery when he was.

She knew the last one was the least likely, and chances probably were that Faustus was injured in some way and couldn’t make it back from wherever he was.  “Silvia,” She said, “How long ‘as Faustus been missing?” Hopefully it hadn’t been for long-- if Faustus was injured, it made him much less protected against predators.

Silvia frowned, fiddling with the handle of her cup as she thought.  She'd never taken a picture of Faustus, it hadn't even occurred to her.  Had her grandfather?  Plenty of the yearly portraits included an owl or cat or dog.  She remembered them glaring down on her from the walls of the manse, and whenever her mother threw a fit the entire house would erupt like an Owlery at dusk.  But she didn't remember having Faustus with her last year, when her grandfather had the photographer over.  Her grandmother had probably forbid him from bringing the animal into her drawing room, knowing her. 

"N-no, I don't think so.  I can, um, give you a description though.  He-he's about this big," she gestured with her hands, "With a white chest and lots of brown streaking . . . he's an Evening Owl, um, with these little . . ." she gestured about her own head, trying to indicate the two little feathered ridges that Faustus sported like horns.  "And his eyes are a kind of greeny-yellow, except it looks more orange sometimes . . . I guess that's not very helpful . . . do you really think, uh, Faust would help me look?" she asked, anxiously.  "I think it's been almost a week now.  I was hoping he'd come back on his own, but."  She sighed, exhausted by her own emotions.  Slouching over the table, she rested her eyes in the palms of her hands.  "I don't know."