Even as the gargoyle statue creaked back in place and the spiral staircase continued on its ascent, Sasha tugged the scrap of parchment from his pocket and read it over.  Thursday at 5:15.  Even though he'd double-, triple- and quadruple-checked the time, he couldn't ignore the compulsion to check it, again.  The thought of showing up at the Headmistress' office unannounced was disturbing. 

At the top of the stairs, the young Ravenclaw took a moment to straighten his tie, rubbing a non-existent scuff from his shoes and smoothed the lapels of his royal-blue lined cloak.  Only after he was certain his hair and attire were in order did Sasha reach out and rap his knuckles against the heavy wooden door. 

Upon invitation, Sasha slipped through the door and crossed the room to the Headmistress' desk.  "Ma'am."  He ducked his head, politely. 

"I appreciate you taking the time to see me, ma'am," Sasha offered as he took a seat opposite the Headmistress.  His eyes darted, briefly, to the tin of cookies sitting on the woman's desk.  If past visits were any indication, the offer seemed inevitable and Professor McGonagall never seemed to take his assurances that he was watching his weight seriously.  He hated to be rude, though.  Maybe, if he jumped right into it, he could bypass the awkwardness.

"They say you are an animagus.  I was hoping you'd be willing to help me." 

Five fifteen was an odd time to set an appointment, Minerva knew. Most would have said five o’clock, or perhaps five thirty. The headmistress of Hogwarts, however, had found that setting appointments for students at odd intervals often spurred them to be on time. Had she said five o’clock, most students would show up at five past and Minerva was not one to tolerate tardiness. With Sasha, Minerva shouldn’t have worried. At the appointed time, not a single minute before or after, a hard rap sounded on Minerva’s door.

With a quick, “Enter,” Minerva found herself seated opposite the young Ravenclaw. Why he had decided to request an audience with the head, Minerva wasn’t sure. Truly, Minerva simply did not have the time to spare for non-essential meetings and should have referred the boy to his head of house, but when it came to Sasha Schlagenweit, Minerva always tried to make time. He was certainly a curious boy; smart, but obviously troubled if Minerva’s intuition was anything to judge, and after a half century of working at Hogwarts, Minerva’s intuition was rarely incorrect.

Before Minerva even had the chance to offer the boy refreshment, he jumped right into matters. It was certainly a nice change in pace to skip the pleasantries and jump right to business. The headmistress had never been one for idle chit-chat, and after rising to the post, Minerva found pointless chatter was eighty percent of the job. His request, however, was a complicated one – and not one Minerva was sure she could answer right away.

To buy a bit of time, the elderly witch took up her wand and pointed toward the fireplace. The sound of running water hitting the bottom of a kettle could be heard in the grate, and flames roared to life, adding extra light to the room. She reached across the desk and retrieved the tin of ginger snaps, taking one for herself before placing the open container in front of Sasha. No boy at the age of sixteen should be against sweets, and Minerva wasn’t one to be denied often. Eventually the boy would crack under the pressure and take one, she was sure of it.

Only then did Minerva open her mouth to speak, “Mr. Schlagenweit, animagus magic is not only difficult and dangerous, but very selective. What makes you so eager to undertake such a challenging prospect? And, should I agree to this… endeavor… what if you’re dissatisfied with the results?”

Despite his attempt, the neat little tin of cookies found its way to his side of the desk.  Small stacks of ginger snaps were arranged invitingly, stacked delicately in the little fluted paper cups.  The ginger in the cookies released a subtle but sharp aroma into the air.  But, that was the danger of sweets, wasn't it?  They had the potential to be far too tempting.  Far too comforting.  One often led to another.  And another.  And another.  He didn't mean any disrespect; hopefully Headmistress McGonagall wouldn't take the refusal as such. 

"I appreciate the offer," Sasha grimaced apologetically before elaborating.  Hopefully, if the Headmistress understood his reasoning, she wouldn't take it personally.  "We didn't really have treats in our house and, you see, I compete a lot over the summer.  In equestrian sports?  I'm almost too tall as it is; I have to keep as trim as possible." 

The Ravenclaw folded his hands neatly in his lap as he considered Headmistress McGonagall's words.  Animagus magic was exceptionally difficult - especially for him.  In all honesty, his brief and regrettable experience with necromancy had been easier than the hours of soul searching that had been the foundation of animagi transformation.  He'd remained stubbornly devoted to mastering the transformation, despite the difficulty, though he was reluctant to disclose all his reasons for doing so to the Headmistress. 

"I've already started, so I have an idea how difficult it is.  Raine Almasy had been helping but, well, since she's left that's not an option.  I know it's dangerous which is why I'm reluctant to keep trying strictly on my own.  And-"  Once more, he wasn't sure how to explain his motivations. 

Or, could he?  The Headmistress likely knew enough to allow an incomplete explanation without disclosing anything new. 

He shrugged.  "I've been in enough hazardous situations this past year or so.  I can't produce a patronus and ... I'm not sure apparition will ever really be an option.  With things like the dementors - or when I'm away from Hogwarts - I need something.  Some means of escape?  Also, in some ways, the introspection is probably a good thing." 

"If I'm dissatisfied with the results, I'll just ... try to make the best of a bad situation.  I've got a fair bit of practice in that."