With only one day left, Sasha had officially made it through the term.  Somehow.  It seemed most of the professors had accepted the day before the Yule Ball would be, academically speaking, largely non-productive.  No one had saved their class' midterms for the last day so, by and large, most students were assuming it'd be a rather laid back day. 

For Sasha, it was just one more day to revise for GCSEs the following week.  A week from today, though, he'd be done.  Finally.

But, a week from today, he'd also be looking at the first Christmas since ... everything.  At least, he didn't have to spend it at his parents house.  No amount of self talk was likely to get him from Christmas Eve to Christmas morning alone in that house with his wits intact. 

In fact, with luck and a little bit of help, Sasha was hoping he would only have to return again to that house to pack what little he wanted to take with him and sell the place and anything that wasn't absolutely irreplaceable.  It was with that goal in mind that Sasha gave the gargoyle the password and climbed the revolving staircase to the landing outside the Headmistress' office.  Professor McGonagall had helped him find his way to Hogwarts all those many years ago, despite the myriad of challenges.  He hoped she'd be willing and able to help now. 

As he stood before that heavy, solid wood door, he could remember the last time he'd visited the office.  Madam Snark had been on the other side, slumped against the wall, screaming and rocking as blood trickled down her hand.  She'd disappeared not long after. 

Shaking off the memory, Sasha knocked on the door and pushed it open when invited.  "Ma'am?" Sasha asked, ducking his head in greeting.  "I was hoping to have a word with you - I hope ... you got my note?"  Sasha glanced around and spotted Jack, his little elf owl, hopping excitedly on the very edge of Hera's perch. 

The large golden owl didn’t appreciate sharing her perch with a little twittering fluffball, that much was obvious. Hera brought her regal head from beneath a wing and snipped angrily at Jack. She was an older bird, and avoided the owlery for the simple fact that she enjoyed her privacy and was a very unsociable creature. The little birdy, however, didn’t seem to be leaving any time soon, so with an indignant hoot, Hera unfurled her impressive wingspan and soared from the open window into the chilly evening sky, and still Jack sat hooting merrily upon the large perch.

Minerva read over the tiny piece of parchment once again, wondering what the Ravenclaw could possibly want with her that he couldn’t get answered from Professor Trishna, or even Professor Storm for that matter. At the knock upon the door, the headmistress called out for Sasha to advance, and placed the note gingerly upon her desk, amid the pile of financial statements she’d been balancing. She removed the spectacled from upon her nose and sat them on the desk as well.

“Mr. Schlagenweit, welcome,” She said, gesturing toward one of the visitor chairs opposite her. She remembered fondly the boy’s admittance unto the castle, could still see the Sorting Hat atop his head and it brought a smile to Minerva’s features. He’d had a rough couple years, if his file was any indication, but despite the hiccups, he’d still managed to maintain superb marks in all his classes. He’d easily have been a shoo-in for Head Boy next year had it not been for his Halloween stunt.

“You’ve either a very impressive or daft owl there, Mr. Schlagenweit,” Minerva said with a slight smile, “Not many can withstand Hera’s glare, yet he handled it admirably. What can I help you with this evening?”

The Ravenclaw grimaced, guiltily, as the large owl staged her escape.  "Thank you," he offered, with a polite duck of his head as he took a seat in the proffered chair. 

"And, I'm sorry -  I'm afraid it's the later.  He's a little...I don't know the English equivalent.  Asoziale.  Simple?"  A stark contrast from most of Sasha's animals.  Between Baldur and his horses back home, Sasha was used to a much higher level of cooperation and, well, intelligence in the animals he cared for.  And paid to keep fed though, admittedly, given the bird was content with crickets and moths, he was by far Sasha's cheapest animal to keep.  But, Jack was the owl equivalent of a teletubby.  Perpetually happy but lacking in any intelligible logic. 

The Headmistress' question could have been met with any number of answers though Sasha doubted there was much the woman could do with the Ravenclaw's more complicated predicaments.  Certainly, nothing more than Professor Trishna was doing and, for once, professional status was probably irrelevant. 

Her status could, potentially, help with what Sasha had come to her for and that was what he'd been counting on.  "Well, ma'am, as you probably know ... or, actually, you probably don't.  I'm sure you don't have everyone's birthdate memorized.  But...nevermind."  Nerves and awkwardness were catching up to him, making his words move faster than his brain. 

"I turn seventeen in February so, technically, I should be considered an adult.  But, I wasn't sure how that worked.  For us muggleborns.  I'm kind of bound by my family's trust and the lawyers assume I won't be of age for another year.  Is there some way we, I don't know, get absorbed by the wizarding world when we turn seventeen?  Or somehow convince the muggle world we're adults already?"

Minerva regarded the boy with a mixture of amusement and sympathy as he described his challenged bird and immediately proceeded to stumble over his words. He was right though; Minerva didn’t have the students birthdates memorized, with hundreds of students in one castle, learning all those dates would be complete madness. She was lucky if she remembered when her own birthday was.

As the boy spoke, Minerva’s features darkened in sympathy. The fates had written Sasha a rather difficult hand in life, and there was little anyone could do to help him through it, but Minerva would do anything she could to help ease the boy’s burden. “Never fear, she’s a rather haughty owl, always flying off for some reason or another. She’ll be back before morning,” Minerva said, waving away the boy’s apology.

Minerva put a finger to her lips in thought. She took her hand from her mouth and reached across the desk for a tartan tin. She lifted the tin and then pushed it across the desk toward the Ravenclaw boy. “First, have a biscuit,” She offered, hoping the boy liked ginger snaps.

“And to answer your question, it’s usually never an issue,” She began, wondering how exactly to explain things to him. “Muggleborn students may feel they’re adult at seventeen, but I think you’ll find that their parents disagree most profusely, and if they choose to be adults on their own, they can do so… within the wizarding world. Those that accept their children’s adulthood early usually assist their children in securing housing, employment, etcetera. Obviously it’s not an issue for pureblood students, who very rarely try and integrate into muggle society and it’s a mixture when it comes to halfblood students. It’s never been the place of Hogwarts to assist in anything outside of education, but then again, we rarely, if ever, face cases as unique as yours.”

“Did you have anything in mind? I’m afraid I’m woefully ignorant in muggle laws and policies. I can contact a member of the muggle affairs office at the Ministry if needed.” Minerva said, reaching for a scrap of parchment and quill to jot a quick note.

A slight blush rose in the Ravenclaw's cheeks when the Headmistress offered him a biscuit but, reluctantly, shook his head with an apologetic grimace.  He didn't want to be rude to the woman, but, "thank you.  But, I'll pass.  I don't really eat sweets.  Empty carbs..." 

Sasha supposed, had things never changed, his turning seventeen wouldn't have been so complicated.  It simply wouldn't have meant much.  He would still have been considered a minor in his parent's eyes and his stepfather would have been making all the decisions.  Turning seventeen would have changed nothing.  But, it wouldn't have mattered.  It was because of the changes that Sasha felt the need to free himself from the ambiguity. 

"But, because I'm pretty much independent, anyway, there's no one to accept or deny the adulthood.  Just the legal terms of paperwork."  Wilhelm was, legally, his guardian but the will and trust had outlined the specific terms of his custodial authority.  And, they'd been written under the assumption that Sasha was a muggle. 

"I don't know," he admitted.  "Mostly, I don't really care.  I mean ... the lawyers leave me to my own except for big things.  Especially things regarding the estate as a whole.  But that's ..."  Sasha shook his head, looking down at his hands.  He hated this.  He hated admitting weakness.  This was business.  They were talking business.  That was all it needed to be.  Sasha took a deep breath and looked up, continuing in a flat though slightly forced tone.  "I can't go home again.  I can't spend another summer alone in that house."  Staying alone in that house had probably not helped his sleep patterns. 

Sasha shook his head.  "I can't do it.  I need to be able to sell it.  But, I can't until I can legally sign the documents.  If the house were in this world, I could, but ... I don't know.  Can the lawyers just be made to forget it?  Forget me?  Or, something?" 

Empty carbs? Did this boy really just deny a biscuit because of empty carbs? Minerva wasn’t even sure that she knew what a carb was at his age… scratch that, she knew but simply didn’t care. She simply shook her head slightly at his rejection and continued to scribble on the parchment before her.

Sasha was obviously having a hard time of things, and Minerva wondered silently if the boy was being helped through venues other than herself. The worst thing about being the head of a school was knowing that you can’t possibly know everything about everyone, that’s why trust was placed so highly on the staff beneath her. It still wrenched your heart to know that there’s so much suffering in a vessel of such youth.

She looked up from the parchment and set her quill upon the desk. Sasha was a Ravenclaw, his fatal flaw, like most of his house mates, was probably his need to turn everything into something logical and emotionless. Half of Minerva’s consciousness wanted to hunt out Figaro Sellaphix and set him on Sasha. If anyone could jolt a bit of fun into the Ravenclaw’s demeanor, it would be the Hufflepuff.

Her expression went from thoughtful to sorrowful to stern in a few short moments. She settled on stern as the boy finished his thought. “Sasha,” she began, looking over the top of her spectacles at the boy, “When you entered Hogwarts and this farce was put in place, I was apprehensive. I’ve never felt it wise to tell untruths, the consequences far outweigh the benefits, but it was the lesser of two evils, so I went along with it. I need you to understand that memory modification charms aren’t something to play with.”

“No. We won’t be making anyone forget you; I daresay you’re a rather unforgettable individual in any case.” She paused, offering a slight smile to soften the scolding, “I understand your problem, and we’ll get this fixed for you, but we’ll do it legally. Perhaps magic can be used to speed the process along a bit, but that’s the extent of it. We will file for your emancipation, and if the process isn’t completed by the time summer comes, I’m sure we can arrange for lodging in Diagon Alley or some such. We’d never force you to return to a place of discomfort and pain.”

A hint of color rose in the Ravenclaw's cheeks when the Headmistress shook her head.  But, the color deepened as the woman dismissed Sasha's careless (and, admittedly, not well thought through) idea in no uncertain terms.  The idea hadn't sounded as bad in his head as it had out loud (especially when rephrased by Professor McGonagall), but that seemed to be happening a lot lately.

"I ... no.  Of course not.  I know that," Sasha confirmed, quickly.  Jacoba would have, likely, given him a very similar lecture.  She'd spent more than her fair share of months dreading waking to finding an Obliviator knocking on her door.  "I didn't really intend anything, you know, big.  I just thought ... even if they were just confunded and suddenly believed I was eighteen or ..."  No.  That probably didn't help his case much.  The Ravenclaw grimaced and shook his head, apologetically.

Not to mention, Professor McGonagall's idea seemed much simpler.

"That's possible?" Sasha asked.  "I'm not really concerned about most of it.  I don't care if I can't vote yet or drink in the muggle world or anything."  All of that, he had no problems waiting a year.  "Or, even being on my own.  I pretty much am, already." 

When Professor McGonagall suggested lodging in Diagon, Sasha sincerely hoped she didn't mean the Leaky Cauldron.  That little pub was fine enough - for walking through on the way to the Alley.  In an emergency, perhaps one could manage a night there.  But, it was hardly fit for living in for two months.  He'd rather stay in Germany though he'd prefer not to be that far from Professor Trishna and Abby and everyone.  He'd even rather stay in Scotland - but...no.  He wasn't supposed to be thinking about that.  That was simply habit - and he was supposed to be convincing himself it wasn't true. 

"So, you're willing to help, ma'am?" Sasha asked, grinning slightly, hopefully.  It seemed to be a bit of a trend - Professor McGonagall helping Sasha with family affairs.  "I'd appreciate it." 

The Ravenclaw obviously didn’t know when enough was enough. “Mr. Schlagenweit, I’m afraid you’re headed down a very uncompromising road with this line of thinking,” She paused, a finger raised to her lips in thought. “Tell me this: if I were I to confund the lawyers into forgetting you, how would that help? You’d be in the same situation, if not a bit worse. Magic is not a fix all.” She felt pointless in lecturing him… After all, he made exemplary marks in Muggle Studies and seemed awfully close to Tapendra Trishna. And everyone knew that the Astronomy professor had a bit of an unhealthy obsession with muggle technology.

“As the headmistress of your school, we can easily apply for emancipation. My word will vouch for your maturity and ability to survive without supervision. Now, we will have to lie about where you attend school and we’ll need documentation, but that is an instance in which magic is needed.” She switched topics in an instant, all thoughts of the lecture forgotten.

“And of course I’ll help,” She said, a bit affronted at the boy’s apparent need to even ask. “Even if I weren’t fond of you, Mr. Schlagenweit, it’s my job to ensure that my students are the best they can be.” She returned the boy’s smile with a genuine one of her own before picking up her cup of tea and taking a healthy sip.

Sasha grimaced, again, and shook his head.  This was not what he was trying to convey though, admittedly, it was what he was saying.  He understood the gravity of the implications - it was just ... he didn't know.  He wasn't expressing himself very well or he was confusing himself.  He knew confounding them wouldn't work - they weren't the only ones aware of the situation.  They were just the only ones with any control over it. 

"I know it's not a fix all," Sasha insisted, shaking his head.  "I ... I do a lot without magic.  But-"  Perhaps, continuing to justify it or explain it wasn't the way to go.  This was probably one of those situations where simply apologizing, accepting fault and moving on was best.  "I'm sorry, ma'am.  I didn't mean to imply anything - I know that's not trivial stuff.  My sister worries about all the time." 

And, ultimately, it wasn't about whether the lawyers knew him.  Really, it would be better if they did - they'd been involved with handling the family's finances for quite some time.  Sasha would prefer they continue in the same capacity. 

Sasha nodded his head.  "Thank you, ma'am," he offered.  Time would only tell, of course, if it'd work.  But, she was willing to try and that, at least, was a first step.  "I appreciate that.  I ... that was all I had.  If you don't need me for anything, I should get back to my studies."  Even with only one more day of classes, the studying was never ending.