“Please, don’t offer me cookies.”

After several long silent minutes of sitting in one of the chairs in Ms. Biladeau’s office, that quiet request was the first thing he could think to say. It was hardly profound and it did little to enlighten the counselor as to his reason for requesting a meeting but at least it had gotten his mind, and mouth, moving. 

It was an important starting point, though.  From what he could tell, every encounter with Maiko Biladeau seem to start with a significant helping of calories which, inevitably, Sasha declined.  He meant no offense to the counselor or her cooking abilities by refusing the sweets and (even if he had no idea what to say) he knew he didn’t want to start out on the negative. 

Now, if she had hummus or a veggie platter - or a veggie platter with hummus, that would be another matter altogether.  But cookies?  No. 

After Professor Trishna’s intervention, the counselor had backed off considerably though Sasha suspected she’d kept a close eye on him from a distance.  The distance had been a relief and for most of the year, he’d been grateful to be able to rely on Professor Trishna for advice - whether it was good or uncomfortable advice.  He’d been too insecure - lacking too much confidence in his ability to gauge who he could trust and who he couldn’t to be that open with anyone else.  And, he’d never been comfortable around members of the ‘mental health profession.’  He simply hadn’t been ready to talk to her. 

But, the last few weeks had seen a shift.  For reasons Sasha couldn’t quite understand, the desire to feel normal again was starting to outweigh the fear of confronting the uncertainties on that journey of emotional healing.  He wanted to feel better.  If there was a chance that talking to Ms. Biladeau would help with that, he was ready to take that chance, fear and all. 

He just didn’t know where to start.  So, he started with the obvious. 

“I wanted to apologize.  And, if it’s not too late, try talking?  I don’t really…I’m not very good at this.”  He fidgeted, nervously.  “Back before coming to Hogwarts, I usually got in a lot of trouble if word got home I was speaking to the counselors there.  So, it just feels-  wrong.  But, if it can help.  I want to try."

It had taken all year for Sasha Schlagenweit to approach her—and that was a good sign. Maiko hadn’t been pushy ever since their initial meetings, and made sure to give the Ravenclaw his space. She didn’t do much more than smile and wave at him in the hallway, or make small talk.  She did keep a close eye on him—but no more than she would’ve anyone else who made their way into her office.

Mai couldn’t help but laugh when Sasha told her not to offer cookies. “Who do you think I am?” She teased. Oh, Mai had definitely remembered Sasha telling her, rather explicitly, that he would much rather have veggies and hummus.  She had gone out of her way to get hummus specifically for this very visit.  She didn’t even like hummus, not even a little bit.

She waved her wand and summoned a plate of fresh veggies with hummus. “I remembered.” Mai said simply,  “I hope you don’t mind? If you don’t want any, that’s perfectly fine. I won’t be offended.”

Her eyebrows furrowed together when he mentioned an apology. “Oh, of course it’s not too late, and no apologies are necessary.” Mai replied, her voice gentle, soft, and above all—earnest.  “Wanting to try is a step in the right direction. I’m glad you came to see me.” She leaned forward curiously, “There’s no shame in coming to see me. Everything will be confidential—provided that yours or someone else’s safety isn’t at risk.” For example, if Sasha expressed murderous intentions towards another person—that’d be something she had to report. Still, it struck her as odd that Sasha's family would know if he saw a counselor in the past. What a violation of privacy!

“What would you like to talk to me about? Don’t worry about it making sense—I’ll ask questions if there’s any clarification I need. What’s the first thing that comes to your mind?”

The Ravenclaw’s face turned a brilliant shade of red and he dropped his gaze, briefly.  Was he really that predictable?  Of course, he knew the answer to that.  The bashfulness was to be expected but, despite that (and during it), he nodded and grinned, awkwardly, in appreciation.  Class-free periods were few and far between in his schedule; he had a bad enough habit of forgetting minor details like sleeping and eating. 

“Thank you.”  He took a piece of carrot but didn’t eat it, right away.  His nerves still had his gut held in a vice grip and the thought of eating anything made his stomach flutter. 

“There’s no shame in coming to see me. Everything will be confidential—provided that yours or someone else’s safety isn’t at risk.”

“That is so very different from what I was taught.” 

He could feel that all too familiar urge start to build; that building panic that had set in every time Madame Biladeau had approached him before.  That was just it, wasn’t it?  What would it take for her to deem that his or someone else’s safety was at risk?  If she did, who would she tell?  He didn’t intend on delving into how his or other’s safety was in jeopardy but what if he divulged just enough?  Was she a legilimens?  And, who would she go to?  To the Headmistress?  Or, the Deputy Head?  He remembered far too vividly how these scenarios had always played out in the past. 

“What if…what if I told you that anything that could pose a risk has, you know, already been imparted to those suited to do something about it?"   

There were far too many ‘first things’ that came to mind when Sasha tried to consider a starting point.  There had been so many worries and concerns and few of them were really delineated from each other.  Slowly, the Ravenclaw took a deep breath and let it out.  “Have you ever… I don’t know how much you know about … everything.  About my family; both last year and, well, before?”  The Ravenclaw licked his lips and glanced down at the carrot still in his hands.  “I know lots of families have skeletons in their closets.  It’s just, well, a family thing.  But, what about when you realize you’re the skeleton and you just accepted that role because, well, it was the only option.  How do you break old habits?  Convince yourself to stop, you know, transposing it on other people?"

He took a carrot! That satisfied her urge to feed him for now, even if he didn’t eat it. She wondered if he was simply too nervous to be focusing on things such as food.

No shame in coming to see her was so different than what he was taught. It was so different than what many people were taught. There seemed to be a certain stigma attached to asking for help from a counselor.  That stigma, however, didn’t apply to people seeking help for physical ailments. Mai was of the belief that a balanced mind would encourage a healthy body, and vice versa.

“What if…what if I told you that anything that could pose a risk has, you know, already been imparted to those suited to do something about it?"   

“It depends on the situation.” She replied carefully, “But maybe I’m not being clear.  For example—if you express murderous intentions towards another person, and it seems like you genuinely mean it and have a plan in place—then I need to do something about it. I would approach the deputy headmaster, the headmistress, or your head of house. It would be dealt with as quietly and privately as possible. If the person who could actually do something about it already knows, then it’s fine.” Mai wondered what in the world Sasha would be alluding to.

“I know that your family was strict, and had high, unrealistic expectations of you.” She said rather frankly, “I don’t know much other than that.”

Then he spoke of skeletons in closets—and how he was the skeleton in his own family’s closet. An outsider. An object of shame that must be hidden and suppressed. Her expression softened at that.  “You accepted the role as: The person that the family doesn’t talk about.” That part wasn’t a question. “And now it’s become the norm for you?” Mai’s eyebrows furrowed together. “So, you’re assuming most people will reject you by default, because of your past experiences with your own family.” She paused, silently asking if she got this correct. Giving him time to correct her if need be.

“As far as changing behavior goes—“ Mai sighed, “It… Takes time. It takes time and effort. But it’s possible, definitely possible. And it starts with changing your self-talk, the way you think about yourself.”

The Ravenclaw’s brows furrowed and he regarded the carrot with careful consideration.  If he did have murderous intentions, he wouldn’t be here talking to Madame Biladeau, a counselor, about them.  Perhaps he’d been spending too much time in the company of a career criminal but being angsty about homicidal plans and feeling the need to discuss them probably meant someone was pursuing the wrong endeavors. 

Thankfully, Sasha’s ability to self-edit managed to choose that moment to be effective.  Voicing that aloud would have set this whole conversation off on the wrong foot. 

“There’s little I could tell you that Professor Trishna doesn’t know.  Professor Storm knows ... a lot of it, too.”  Telling Headmistress McGonagall might just get him expelled.  "They're ... doing stuff about it?  I really ... I need to talk without someone being involved?"  He didn't know if that would make sense, especially with his limited capacity to explain.  He appreciated being able to talk to Professor Trishna and he knew the man's bias was where it was with the best intentions.  But, sometimes, Sasha just needed to talk for the sake of talking.  "You can ask them if they know, if you need to," he added in resignation.

“You accepted the role as: The person that the family doesn’t talk about.  And now it’s become the norm for you?”

The Ravenclaw snorted derisively and, eventually, shook his head.  It had been what he said but it wasn’t entirely accurate, was it?  Things might have actually been simpler if that had been the case.  How did he go about explaining it?

“They didn’t even know.  I was the skeleton but I did everything I could to keep them from find out.  They-“  He fell silent for several long moments, his mind reluctant to wrap itself around so many things he tried so hard to ignore.  He couldn’t remember what, if any of this, he’d told the counselor before. 

“You know, being muggleborn, someone from the school usually brings the letter to your house?  When they came to my house, my step-father reacted very badly.  He-“  Sasha’s face turned a brilliant shade of red and he shook his head, awkwardly.  It had been bad.  As bad as the night Gerhard had found Kronos in their barn.  “They had to come back the next day and modify their memories.” 

"I was the skeleton, but they didn’t even know.  I had to keep myself hidden.  Since the first time I experienced stray magic.  They talked about me all the time. Every holiday party.  Every social function.  They talked all the time about how I was top of my class in Switzerland and a star on the equestrian team.  How I’d met a proper young Austrian woman.  How model a son I was…I’ve never not been a lie.  They only found a … a week before Christmas.  I was ... had magic.”  They hadn't even known about Fergie.

“So, you’re assuming most people will reject you by default, because of your past experiences with your own family.”

“No.  Not by default?”  Sasha shook his head.  “But, if I’m not what they expect me to be, then...then..."  He shrugged and shook his head.  "In the past, I've been lucky if they just reject me?"

She listened patiently, contemplating what he was telling her. Whatever thing he was worried about talking about, apparently Trishna and Storm knew? Of course Trishna knew. It was obvious as soon as she started working here how close he was to Sasha. If anyone knew much about the young Ravenclaw, it would most definitely have been Tapendra. Ignan and Tappy, in Sasha’s case, would’ve been the people she went to if she felt like he was a serious, imminent risk to himself or others.

“I believe you.” Mai said softly, “I’ll still ask them, if I need to.” It was part of the job. She could see Tappy being the sort to get involved in whatever Sasha needed to talk about, but Ignan? Really? According to Maiko, that man was softer than most would expect—so she wasn’t particularly surprised. “I won’t get involved any more than you want me to.”

She sounded certain, and in the moment she felt it was true.

Sasha went on to clarify.  She nodded when he mentioned someone bringing the letter when you were muggleborn. Mai recalled her parents’s reactions. Her mother was surprised, her father almost seemed… It was almost like he had expected it. Their reactions weren’t necessarily positive or negative, as they were taking in the information. Once it had settled, though, they did their best to parent her. It was her uncle who took her in after their deaths, however, that was not happy about it. Her grandparents treated her as if she was some sort of bomb about to explode, though they loved her nevertheless.

But love and acceptance weren’t necessarily the same thing. What they loved about her was who they wanted her to be, not who she actually was. Oh, they tried. Mai gave them that.

Sasha’s family had reacted poorly initially. Their memories had to be erased—a sad, but necessary solution.

“You weren’t who they thought you were, and they rejected you for it. Or worse.” Mai finally said, wanting to reach out and touch his arm in comfort. But she knew that Sasha was not the sort who took to physical contact well. “Sometimes being rejected is preferable to the other options.” There was a poignancy to her tone, though she tried not to show it. There was something that hit too close to home in Sasha’s explanation.

“And now you want to change what you expect out of people when you stop being what they want you to be.”

Sasha nodded gratefully, for the moment content to trust that the furthest any of this conversation would go was to people already in the know.  Hopefully, he'd manage to keep his mind and thoughts organized enough to avoid prompting Ms. Biladeau to break confidentiality but, at least, if he did slip up there was a safety net.  That was the most he could do.  Other than continue to ignore the mess of confusion and keep it bottled up which, arguable, hadn't worked this past year. 

Or worse. 

“When they found out last year,” Sasha explained, shrugging his shoulders in an exaggerated expression of apathy.  "When the … Headmistress told them of my suspension, they were sending me off.”  His voice faded for a moment as his thoughts drifted to former Headmistress Snark.  Gossip about the witch’s disappearance had faded quickly - too quickly - after her disappearance.  But, every time Sasha found himself in the Headmistress’ office, he always chanced a quick look at the walls.  No new portrait had joined the array of deceased Hogwarts headmasters and mistresses.  But, no one seemed to know anything.  Fewer seemed to care. 

He shook his head, reminding himself he had plenty of his own cares to worry about; there wasn’t much he could do on that front.  “They were…my parents were trying to find someplace that could fix it.  Fix me.  Like in the x-men movies?  Like it could be cured somehow?  For a while, there was talk they…some witches had found a way.  You know, to get rid of it?  Be normal?”  He hesitated, again, glancing down at his hands. 

“I don’t know,” Sasha admitted, shaking his head.  “I mean, after all, people rarely reject you for no good reason.  I just assumed if they rejected me, it was probably because I deserved it.”  Rather than being a snack, the carrot had quickly become something for his hands to do.  He’d dug his nail into the sides of the carrot, creating a random patter of little dark lines in the orange surface. 

“Maybe rejection is better since it’s, at least, some clear atonement for the mistakes you’ve made?  Maybe, if they’d just rejected me and sent me away like my sister, they’d still be alive.”  Sasha shrugged, his chest tightening painfully.  He was fairly certain he wasn't making any sense to Madame Biladeau; he was barely making sense to himself. 

“They tried to squash the magic out of you.” She said solemnly, “Like it was something to be ashamed of, like it was a sin.” There were so many reasons why parents would reject their children like that. For some, having a scapegoat was a good way to focus any shameful behavior they exhibited onto someone else. It was easy to blame someone who was different, who didn’t turn out the way their parents wanted.  Mai felt like shame was only part of the reason behind his parents’ behavior. 

“Instead of accepting you, they… Tried to change you so that you would be what they perceived to be ‘acceptable.’” The counselor looked down at her hands before facing Sasha again.

“You weren’t rejected because you deserved it. You were rejected because of theirissues. Because of their perceptions. Is there something wrong with Hank McCoy and Kitty Pryde having their abilities?” She shook her head. “No. Is there something wrong with the whole wizarding world, having magic? No. it’s natural. It’s another part of life.”

She looked at Sasha, not with worry, not with curiosity, no. But almost as if, she was seeing a part of who she used to be in him. To be fair, a little bit of that had seeped into her adult hood, though you would never hear her admit that sober. This was the hardest part of the job—relating too closely. Mai felt a tightness in her chest, though she ignored it. Her situations in the past were nothing now. They weren't going to help the Ravenclaw before her.

“When things don’t make sense, we try to find reason in them—even, and especially when there is no reason or logic behind it. Maybe if they sent you away, they would’ve lived. But you don’t know that for certain. No one knows that for certain. They could’ve died anyway. You can’t control the actions and wills of others, no matter how much you try.” Mai had learned that the hard way.

“I am seeing a lot of self-blame here. Blame for things out of your control. Why is everything on you?”