"There will be a test on this terminology at the star of Friday's lesson. Anyone arriving late will score no more than half the marks. Class dismissed. Wintergreen, stay behind."

It had been one of those tiresome theory lessons with the second years who were midway through their first week back at Hogwarts after Christmas. The noise in the classroom rose as the students packed their bags and made their way promptly out of the classroom, heading to transfiguration with the rather upbeat personality that was Professor Finnigan.

Professor Storm returned to his desk and gathered his class notes, filing them away, ignoring his students, but keeping Wintergreen in view out of the corner of his eye, should he want to try and escape. The ignorance to the others was to dissuade questions and approaches that would further delay this necessary conversation with the Hufflepuff.

He would not be able to keep him long, Wintergreen had a class at eleven, and Ignan had to teach the fourth years and hope that neither Winifred Oliver or Ambrose Pepper asked questions that made him want to obliviate them for being so idiotic.

At last, the students were gone and Wintergreen remained. Ignan fixed the boy with a sharp look.
"Wintergreen. Your examination result from the end of last term." The professor got straight to the point, "They might have been 'acceptable' by grade description, but the performance was lax lustre, and you are capable of far better."

Professor Storm folded his arms over his chest and stared at the boy - the intimidation of this personal chat only diminished by the fact he was sat at his desk at the front of the classroom, and not towering over the boy.

"Explain yourself."



OOC: Pax's writer on hiatus, 21st March 2013, thread locked.