The room wasn't done up in it's normal flair, but the curtains were drawn over the windows. The candles he was often so fond of didn't hang as high as his health simply wouldn't allow the charm to truly remain strong, but his head hurt so bad he couldn't tolerate the sunlight.

Nightingale, sat behind his desk with his boots up on the corner, and his head in one hand as he waited for his class to get there. His hair was down today, as if even it hurt along with his pounding head, and achey body. His attire was one of his more simpler outfits, and he was thankful he'd remembered to even get dressed at all. Brown leather crossed his face today instead of the black, and Gale had charmed the patch to be cold so that way it could help quell his migraine.

"Please take your seat," He said in a rather pathetic sounding voice, but didn't look up.

For all of his classes he sat out little gifts on bigger events, and the midterm was no exception. New quills like the 4th years, but instead of the fun flashy little feathers these were as serious as serious got. Dark black raven feathers attached to rather impressive pens waited for each student, and beside them a little tiny glass vial.

The desks were still in their lines, but instead of his being in the center there was a rather large looking round table that was covered by a black cloth, and waited along with him for the students to arrive.[1]

1.	Seat your student, and talk amongst yourself before class starts. Sorry this isn't up to my normal pretty posts, but I want to get this class rolling. <3

Professor Kesali was not his usual self today, it appeared. Raine eyed the pale and weathered professor curiously as she streamed into the room with the rest of her classmates. No melodramatic flourish or grand gestures; she was almost disappointed by the lack of expression. 

"I suppose even he must have an off-day..." the prefect commented as she took her seat, second row from the front. The raven quills that lined the desk were almost imposing; dark and foreboding compared to their writing tools of choice. Perhaps it bled scarlet.

Raine smiled wryly at the thought, setting down her satchel as she picked up the quill delicately in one hand. Careful fingers tested its sharp tip and then ran along the sloping spine. Her gaze shifted to the covered table with interest; perhaps not all of their professor's flourish had evaporated. There was still a mystery- and at no better time than their midterms, too.

Charms was one of Georgiana's more interesting classes. She hadn't decided if that meant in a good way or not yet, even after this long. Kesali made Cy look like a tomboy, and, disturbingly, made Tappy look dignified. She'd never been able to figure that one out. Maybe she didn't want to. And she certainly didn't want to imagine her brother wearing flower earrings of all things.

Though at least he seemed to come with a vast collection of buttons labeled with 'push for drama', so she couldn't complain too much. Kept things from being boring. And the quills were, well, cool.

She dropped her books to the floor with a thud as she took a seat in the third row behind Raine. After a glowering look around the room, one which lingered for a minute on the covered table, she leaned forward a bit to whisper at the Gryffindor prefect. "Any bets on what we're doing for the midterm?"

It was the start of their Charms midterm which meant the window of opportunity for last minute studying was officially closing.  Last minute cramming had never been an effective strategy for the Ravenclaw; he preferred to go into examinations working off the bulk of his long term memory.  It was more reliable and less susceptible to crossed wires and information than short term memory.  So, when Sasha made his way into the Charms classroom and over to his usual seat (front row, closest to the window), his nose was buried in the middle of a pile of scrolls bearing History of Magic notes. 

He barely lifted his nose from the page, let alone noticed his classmates or the professor's unusually morose demeanor, as he took his seat and set the scroll down on his desktop.  It wasn't until Sasha looked up from the bottom of the third scroll of notes to flip to the next one that he noticed the quill and the glass bottle. 

"I ... there's ..."  Sasha glanced up and around the classroom, noticing the same configuration on each of the desks.  Were they cheating resistant quills like they had with OWLs?  Did that mean there examination was going to mostly written?  Written examinations always worked more towards the Ravenclaw's favor. 

Sasha glanced from the Gryffindor to the Slytherin before shrugging and turning back to the scroll of notes.  The purpose of the quill would become obvious in due course, Sasha was certain of that.  For now, he was wasting valuable time.  "Lufkin - 1798.  Stump - 1811," Sasha murmured as he recited the list of Ministers of Magic with the corresponding year of their appointment.

Eli scampered down the third floor corridor, bag slung over his shoulder. He hummed a simple tune as he stepped lively down the halls, headed toward the Charms classroom. Though charms wasn’t his favorite subject, it wasn’t his worst, by far, so he was relatively confident about this midterm. He was hoping for a practical, rather than written, exam because he tended to overcompensate for things and overthink the questions when it came to writing.

When he stepped into the classroom, he walked swiftly over to the professor’s desk and handed him a little box wrapped in a blue ribbon. “It’s a new eye patch!” Eli said happily. He’d decorated it himself and was rather proud of it. “Go ahead! Open it!” Eli said excitedly, not even noticing that their professor wasn’t his usual uppity self. The patch was made of leather, though it’d been dyed an electric blue color and was striped with purple streaks throughout. “I promise I’m not trying to bribe you into giving me a good grade or anything,” Eli said, now thinking that his gift might be a bit much.

His only thought was that Kesali gave them gifts sometimes and he wanted to return the favor, but didn’t think of the implications. Sometimes the boy could be so shortsighted. His gaze fell quickly and he hurried over to plop down on the opposite of Raine. When he finally looked down at the desk, his heart sank. Quills meant written exams. “Shite,” he muttered quietly to the lady sitting beside him, “Why the quills, you reckon?”

The little gifts, the darkness, the pale and pretty professor... Erin paused only for a moment in the doorway to take in the scene. Then he plodded across the classroom to sling his school bag onto the floor and slide into a seat next to Gigi Trishna, who was half-bent over her seat to bother Almasy.

He nudged Gigi's foot with his own. "Here, what's this all about then?" he wanted to know, making only a token effort to lower his voice as he picked up his quill and examined it. "Think they're for cheaters?" The professor was slumped at a covered table, and Erin frowned at the mystery of the thing. He liked it direct - plain and simple, no way to miss instructions. That was, in the few instances he listened to the instructions at all.

"Schlagenthullu, 1843, Schla-" Georgiana had leaned a bit further forward at Sasha's recitation, and had sent a carefully modulated (in other words, one just quiet enough for the Professor to miss), in the Ravenclaw's direction. Something roughly interrupted by the feel of a foot against hers.

Her sweater caught on the seat in front of her as she tried to lean back, and it took a few moments of tugging before she could properly sit and turn to look at Erin. "Dunno yet. Wish I'd brought my third-year journals." Because the poetry of a melodramatic child was just what her mid-terms needed. So young and angsty, unlike her very serious and important writing these days.

"Guess we could test them." She lifted up her quill and jabbed it at Erin's arm.

None of her classmates appeared to be particularly impressed by the set-up for their lesson and Raine had to admit, setting aside curiousity, there was a needlessly ominous mood in the air. She hadn't yet had to face Kesali in a genuinely bad mood. It seemed easier to play the guessing game than take a cure from Schlawkward however.

"If I had to guess," the Gryffindor started in answer to both Gigi and her foul-mouthed Ravenclaw: "Theory. Or charm deconstruction..." she shrugged indifferently at the notion of either. "But we've been wrong before." Their lessons on memory charms had taught her not to put anything above their professor.

Raine stopped twirling her quill and set it down, glancing at Grimlish before turning around to eye the two Slytherins in the row behind.

"Two sickles on deconstruction," she placed her bet in a droll voice. "Either that or the quills come to life and we lose our fingers."

Sybill isn't much for grand entrances, the small, blonde haired girl more appropriate for darkened seats in the back and dusty corners. But charms was different, something she dared to think she was actually good at, something that she could perkily stride to the front of and squarely place herself in the center for. The darkness of the room couldn't stifle the now bright girl, her messenger bag thumping the back of her legs as she hustled to the front of the room.

Sliding into a desk, Sybill's eyebrows furrowed briefly at the hunched form before her, a frown growing despite her general cheerfulness that was present mere moments before. It would certainly be a different sort of exam, her eyes tearing off the dreary man and darting up to the ceiling above them. It was a curious habit Sybill had collected, glancing at the ceiling when anxiety began to gnaw at her. It would be silly for her to not be anxious at a time like this - it was an exam, there was always room for error.

At a hushed giggle, the girl glanced over her shoulder, smiling at the group of students as they poked fun. That was probably how they dealt with their anxiety - laughing it off instead of glancing away from the problem. Signing softly, Sybill picked up her own quill, the end of the feather trembling delicately as she lazily fluttered it about.

In all of his misery, the headache that would not pass, and the undeniable ache of his body--the students always found a way to make him feel his best. With a little bit of quiet laughter he wondered if they knew how loudly they spoke, and Gale looked out at them through the part in his curtain of hair,

"They are just gifts, younglings. 'Only this...and nothing more.' You have done very well in this class. I commend you for your efforts, and I promise you that this test will not be anything too hard. But I will warn you, it is a part 1 of your final grade. So I would advise you to take it very seriously." A little coughing fit stole his words, but he quickly recovered to finally sit up in his chair. His hair fell over his shoulders in doing so again, and like any other cloud it had a silver lining that was abnormal to it's natural shade--curious. Pushing it out of his mind, he took a few steps around the front of his desk to speak to the class--as equals.

"On the paper, I want you to jot down the first thing you did this morning after leaving your dorm until you reached the breakfast hall. A strange request I know, and just incase you are wanting to hide what it was you were doing--don't. I had my spies out. I know darn well. It was just a few minute window, but in doing so I want you to rewrite everything that you saw. Everything that stood out to you. Paintings, friends, professors, anything that would help spur that memory later, and when you are finished. Let us use our Memory Extracting Charm, and seal it away in the little bottles there at your desk. If you would be so kind as to write your name on your bottle when finished, place it on my desk, and be on your way."

"Recorded." A sharp voice, warm with an undertone of laughter, immediately piped up as Raine casually made a wager. "Anyone care tae take the lady up?" Deus snaked a leg out from his spot next to Gigi—the other side from Erin—to poke a leg of Raine's chair with his foot, smile on his face as he rested his head lazily on an arm dangling off the side of his desk. He straightened, but instead of getting up to get his own quill, just reached over to pluck Sybill Hatley's out of her hand, licking the tip to scribble down Raine's bet. Plopping back down, Deus pulled his legs up cross-legged to peer at their dreary professor, whistling in pity at his obvious misery. "Bit too much tae drink last night, Professor?" He questioned, overly casual as usual, voice all innocence and sympathy. And then the professor announced the midterm.

Deus opened his mouth.

And abruptly closed it.

He knew exactly where he'd been this morning between leaving the Slytherin dorms and heading to the breakfast hall: meeting up with a pretty seventh year Ravenclaw, whereupon he had done his very best to relieve her stress about the immediately forthcoming exams of the day. Enthusiastically. Helplessly amused at the prospect of handing that memory over, Deus dissolved into silent, shaking laughter over his desk. He had no doubt Kesali’s 'spies’ (House Elves, perhaps?) could have followed him to the broom cupboard, but he rather hoped they hadn't followed him in. Surely not.

But then again, if they were House Elves, it was possible.

That set him off again, and he shook visibly with the effort of staying silent.

Regardless, it would seem that, out of respect for the lady in question, he was going to have to fail his midterm.

Pity, that.

Then of course. Professor Kesali had, well, a thing about honesty. Although for that matter, so did Deus, though he spent enough time dancing the line of half-truths and lies by omission that Balanchine himself wouldn't be able to match his footwork. But he was honest, for all that the honesty often took its sweet time to come to the light. So what to do?

With a sigh and an expression of slight trepidation—and perhaps the faintest twinge of regret—Deus warily pointed the tip of his wand to his temple, and concentrating, whispered something too quiet to be heard even at the desk next to him, and there was the briefest flash of green light. He blinked in blank confusion for a moment, hand lowering before rising again to extract a flimsy, meager wisp of silver light that looked notably pathetic. Were the professor—or anyone, really—to view the memory in the pensieve, they would see Deus's hand in fuzzy clarity on the Slytherin exit of the dorms, and then blank clouds for some time, until abruptly the image would swim back into focus on Deus snatching a pastry from a passing tray and sliding into a seat next to a fairly recognizable Gracie and Huck, with fuzzier, less distinct bodies around.

With complete honesty, Deus scribbled on the paper no idea, can’t remember.

And turned in his exam.

Sasha spared a quick scowl over his shoulder in Georgiana's direction before turning back to his mental preparation for the History of Magic midterm.  He'd made it halfway through the list before Professor Kesali finally captured their attention and drew it to the gifts and the task at hand. 

The Ravenclaw's eyes slowly widened as he listened to the explanation of the assignment.  When the professor finished the explanation, Sasha's gaze fell slowly to the flask on the desk.  They were supposed to extract their memories from this morning?  And, just leave them lying around?  Who, exactly, would be seeing them?  And, what would happen to them after? 

This was impossible.  And not just because neither of the professor's markers of time applied to his morning. 

Sasha had no idea how late it had been when his conversation with Professor Trishna had finally drawn to a close the night before,[1] but Sasha had been in no shape to return to the dorms.  He'd been both physically and emotionally exhausted and he knew he was in no shape to attempt to bluff his way beyond any prying questions from his house or dormmates.  It wasn't the first time he'd slept in the Astronomy tower and, thanks to his flurry of recent detentions, it wasn't an uncommon event, either. 

Did Professor Kesali's apparent 'spies' know Sasha hadn't been to the dorms?  Did they know he'd opted to steer clear of the Great Hall as well?  At least, even if they did know, the spies couldn't have had access to his thoughts - they had to be completely oblivious to the flurry of uneasy introspection that still lingered from the conversation. 

Writing down his actions would be easy.  He'd left the Astronomy Tower and made his way, as usual, to the paddocks behind the Hospital Hut where he ate muesli bar.  Extracting only the actions from his memories and carefully leaving behind all of the thoughts, reflections and emotions that had shadowed his morning was another entirely.  Even if he'd recognized Deus' tactic for what it was, it wasn't an option.  As much as he couldn't afford to casually hand those memories over to someone, last night had cost far too much for him to simply make them vanish and disappear.  He couldn't go through that again.  And, Professor Trishna would likely flay him when he found out. 

Sasha cast an uneasy glance over his shoulder, scanning the rows behind him for Raine.  She was the only one in the room who had any idea why he was uneasy about this task - they'd spoken of it the day before.  The Gryffindor was probably caught up in her own task but Sasha watched her for a moment, his eyebrows arched in an unspoken question.

1.	Daring You To See What's Written In the Stars

It happened rather quickly, honestly.

One moment, Sybill's starting to smile, a bit amused by the dark quill as it fluttered across the air before her. The next moment she was clutching nothing, blinking in quick confusion as she turned to look at the Slytherin in question.

"Uh - Professor...?" The words hung timidly in the air, quiet even to her own ears. She doubted Professor Kesali even heard the hushed things, they becoming quickly battered and buffed by the louder voices about her. Sybill turned around in her seat, watching the events unfold, waiting to see if the boy intended on returning her quill. Her eyes fell briefly upon the two Ravenclaws, clearly more engrossed in their studies then the banter about them. Sighing softly again, she glanced back at the group of students behind her, bottom lip pinched between her teeth as she tried to find a solution to her problem.

Her wand was in her hand, and with a quick flick, the quill jumped out of Deus' hand, floating across the space and dropping into Sybill's open palm without further incident. The boy had his own quill before him, he wouldn't be without loss.

Professor Kesali began to speak, and Sybill was front and center within a moment, wand disappearing in some pocket of her robes, quill clutched a bit tighter in her hand. The man spoke with a quiet creak, and Sybill's own eyebrows furrowed as he lurched around his desk. God bless him, he looked like death warmed twice over. Couldn't he go to the infirmary?

While Professor Kesali dictated the instructions for this particular portion of the exam, Sybill could practically feel the ripple of confusion flutter through the classroom. What she did that morning? Quite a bit of nothing, to be quite honest. Woke up, studied a bit. Had a quick banter with Cassie, which ended with the two dissolving in laughter over some sort of punny goodness that was just globs of indecency. She did have a sort of strange gift exchange with one of her older brothers - he was one of the kinder ones, of course, but still a Slytherin nonetheless. He gave her a curious little potted plant, who's workings was still a mystery to her. Sybill had given him a rather nice set of quill and an inkwell, bright green and shining silver. With uncomfortable coughs, the two parted ways, promptly entering the Great Hall and sitting at their separate tables as though the incident never occurred.

Dipping the quill into the inkwell, Sybill began to scratch upon the parchment. Nothing jumped out to her - no strange little detail, no oddly placed object, no curious shadow in the background. She glanced up for a moment, glancing the Professor up and down for a moment before hunching back over her paper. What was he up to?

"Creeper." It wasn't the loudest comment, just enough to be heard by those next to her. But Gigi's disgust was obvious. Kesali following them so closely that he believed nothing of their actions had escaped him? Well, it made her glad that she hadn't snuck off for a shower that morning. Though now she wanted one. The idea of him spying on her, like that? Felt like she'd been soaked in Bubotuber pus and would need to scrub her skin off just to feel clean.

But well, if he wanted the memory of earlier. Then he'd have it. Full force. This pissed her off.

The first line was easy.

This morning, my Professor had me stalked.

The words afterward weren't long, she hadn't done much that morning. Not visibly, at least. Just wandered the halls for a few minutes, occasionally glaring at portraits that popped into view. The portraits, and the other students that had milled about, those were blurry. Just a few details poking through, the edge of a frame, the flash of eyes above someone's yellow tie.

It was the thoughts that were interesting. She'd spent that time worrying about this very test. Not just because some vague bit of the lectures on her future had soaked in just enough to prompt a little bit of thinking maybe she should have studied, but because of the class. Well, cause of the Professor.

Kesali had pissed off her brother, and apparently Tappy wasn't the only target. Not to mention the wand-snapping threat to Cy's little friends, which Cy had been rather upset by. And Gigi, well, she tended to snark. It was rather her thing, and usually, she knew just how far to push. But not here. So the stress of a midterm made her wonder if a bit of lip would get her turned into a frog and her wand smashed to tiny bits cause someone had rolled out on the wrong side of the bed. And that emotion, that wondering if today would be the day he'd go off in front of her instead of everyone else around her, was easy enough to call up. And just as easy to make clear.

The memory wasn't quite the perfect shade of silver, but it seemed robust enough. Flickered about a little inside the bottle as she scribbled her name onto it. She then carried it to Kesali's desk with a scowl and set it down there. Creeper.

She returned to her desk. Her books were still laying on the floor, but there was something she had to do first. There was a loud CRACK as she grabbed the fancy quill on her desk and snapped it with both hands. Thing was tainted, so far as she was concerned, and even the pieces got left there.

Then, with books in tow, she stomped out.

Their bets were down, thanks to an illustrious Deres, and midterm conditions finally announced. Had anyone laid down coins for this particular outcome? Raine sighed faintly, though with little regret- it would only cost her a paltry sum. Better to concentrate on the real matter at hand.

Kesali's test was surprisingly straightforward. The Gryffindor cast Gigi a glance, smirking at her comment. Fair point. Raine was a private person and she experienced concerns even when they had first begun to study memory charms; the notion of being spied on wasn't reassuring. Fortunately nothing particularly intimate had occurred to her this morning.

Quill at hand, she begun jotting down her work.

After leaving the dorm this morning, I went jogging in the grounds. I met nobody else during this activity. It was foggy and began to clear on my way back to the castle. I thought extensively about today's lessons and recent events... 

It continued in this fashion, going on to describe other surroundings and the housemates she had walked with to the breakfast hall. The account was efficient and succinct- alluding to her ruminations of Arthur Lemon without directly mentioning them. She paused to reread this but glanced up first, blinking. Sasha caught her eye and she raised a quizzical eyebrow.

And then, just as she heard Trishna snap a raven quill in half, Raine understood. Oh...oh. He had a problem. Would Kesali penalize them for speaking during the test? The prefect bit her lip and then silently mouthed: "Do you need help?" she would delay the extraction for a minute.