“No, young man. You will stand there and have a bloody good think about running that mouth of yours off like that again.” A hand was waved at the wall by the staffroom door as Charisma stood in the doorway, evidently irritated with the third year Gryffindor that was now being made to stand and stare at the stone wall.

“But Professor I-”
“Hush, boy. All that blathering on is delaying the inevitable. I need a tea and you need a change of attitude.” With that, the Welsh witch slammed the staffroom door and stepped further into the room, cane cracking on the stone floor as she made her way over to the kettle and drink making facilities.

It was early evening shortly before dinner and Charisma was taking her habitual break from marking and prep to have a moment in the staff room amongst colleagues. As usual, the witch wasn’t dressed like most members of staff at the school. It would be very rare to find her in formal garb. Instead her 40 year old dragon hide boots completed the khaki trousers, beige shirt and loose black robes. Large brown glasses were propped on her head in a mass of thick auburn hair.

“13 years old and thinks he bloody well owns the corridors.” Charisma started to tell anyone else in the staffroom. “Racing down the stairs like an overeager bludger and nearly knocks me flying.” A flick of her wand and the kettle sprang to life. “Anyone for tea?”

Sat before the window, making use of the best of the late afternoon light, Camille looked up and over her glasses at Charisma in the doorway of the staff room. The Runes Professor was a stickler for discipline but not to the extent some of their colleagues could be. Camille had learned quickly how to keep a straight face this year when her senior colleagues doled out detentions for misbehaviour that could occasionally feel heavy-handed.

It was the first of March, and another month at the school had begun. Another month closer to the exams. Camille had just finished teaching the fifth years before retiring to the staff room to review their answers to a sample examination question that they had tackled during their lesson that afternoon.

“Yes please, Charisma.” Camille responded politely to Professor Aldridge’s query. She drew her chair back neatly. Unlike the Runes professor, Camille had come from a professional life in banking, and taught in much the same robes as she might have met customers in at the bank. She tried to be neatly turned out on every occasion, and was a neat person by habit. However, she did not frown on Charisma’s outfit, she had lived a very exciting life, and it did not prevent her being a fine teacher.

“I don’t know how they manage to race down those stairs,” the Arithmancy Professor remarked, picking up her teacup and saucer to carry it over to the kettle and teapot Charisma was attending to, “if they aren’t moving, the steps are vanishing. I still doubt myself the odd morning, but touch wood,” she placed a hand down on the table they were both at, “it’s been a month or two since I was caught out.” Being fished out by students had been mortifying.

“How’s your day been?” Camille asked, knowing that Tuesday wasn’t exactly strenuous in terms of teaching hours for her colleague. “Short of Third Years -“ there was a pause as Camille frowned and selected an English word to use, - “barging.” She looked to Charisma to see if that was an appropriate word.

February had been one hell of a month for the entire school, students and faculty alike were still recovering. Maiko had been kept busy, not only with the duties of the school counselor, but also with the duties of being a Head of House. She loved her job-- but what she didn't so much love was dealing with worried parents whose letters varied from concerned and well meaning to  on aggressively hostile. That, Mai felt, took away from time she could've spent one on one with students.

She needed to see the outside of her office just a bit-- so Mai was in the staff room, slowly reading and responding to letters to send out after dinner.

At the sound of the door closing, the counselor looked up to greet Charisma with a tired, but amused smile. The stairs had always been unpredictable here, but once you'd been here awhile you remembered the problem steps. She recalled clearly running through the halls to keep from being late to class (or lunch). Hell, sometimes she still ran down the steps. The difference was, Mai didn't usually try to run over her colleagues or students in the process.

“Anyone for tea?”

"YEEES." Mai groaned, "Please!" Who cared if it was late afternoon and caffeine would keep her up tonight? That was a problem for future Maiko. "You're a saint."

"Who tried to knock you over, though?" She tried to suppress her amusement, "Depending on the student, it could've been on purpose." Seriously, it was like the students seemed to delight in troublemaking lately!

Despite how long it had been since her injury with the runespoor venom incident, the pain in her left leg when standing for an increased amount of time was only fuelled. This made navigating the castle and teaching for long periods of time quite difficult. For a witch who had spent her whole life on her feet running from and to dangerous things, it was quite horrible to be reliant on a cane.

Yet as she fiddled with the tea things, the cane was rested against the side. She’d grown quite skilled at masking the pain but her colleagues knew some of the reality. After all, why else would an experienced curse breaker choose the far less exciting life of teaching?

Professor Duerr came over and spoke of the dangers of the steps, their unpredictability and Charisma couldn’t help but smile as she poured hot water into three questionable mugs. The unpredictability of stairs, Charisma could handle well, and she did. The unpredictability of children on those stairs was the true issue.

“Oh I didn’t bother with his name. 3rd year Gryffindor who’s currently learning about every dimple in the stone outside.” How some staff knew the names of every child in the school, Aldridge would never understand. She knew the students she had in her classes and was currently familiarising herself with the Ravenclaw cohort. It took a while.

How had her day been? “I can’t complain, Camille.” Tuesdays were by far the easiest day. Wednesdays and Thursdays with four hours of teaching tended to result in Charisma retiring to her chamber in pain and cursing Raizel Cohen for the damned runespoor. With the help of her wand, the runes professor sent a cup of tea towards the counsellor before pocketing her wand and taking up her own tea in her left hand, cane in the right before she made her way to her favourite armchair near the fireplace.

“Every day here is certainly more interesting than a desk job at Gringott’s anyway.” She glanced to Camille, knowing the witch’s background. “No offence, meant, Camille.”

”YEEES. Please! You're a saint.”  Maiko barrelled across the staff room to the kettle, appearing to be on a mission to repeat what the student had just done outside.  Camille stepped aside to make room.

“Oh I didn’t bother with his name. 3rd year Gryffindor who’s currently learning about every dimple in the stone outside.”  Charisma responded nonchalantly. “I can’t complain, Camille. Every day here is certainly more interesting than a desk job at Gringott’s anyway. No offence, meant, Camille.”

“None taken,” the Belgian witch gently patted the back of the arm of her colleague, “not all of us arithmancers are cut out to dash about the world breaking curses.”  She looked to Maiko, “is this a love of Charisma’s brew or a severe need today, Mai?”  Camille asked, dropping her glasses to the tip of her nose to look over them at the Hufflepuff Head.  “A new month.  Inching that bit closer to the Spring holiday, to summer.”  She smiled to the other witch kindly.

"Severe need." She replied, though she suspected she wasn't the only one running on caffeine and power naps. Although the kidnapping had happened, some of the visions kept recurring. It gave her this anxious feeling, like there was something more to come. It was difficult to sleep and stay asleep when your mind was awake with worry over what had already happened and what could happen.

"Thank you, Charisma." She said as if the mug of tea was the greatest gift to mankind since the discovery of fire. Mai pulled up a chair to the fireplace, sitting across from Charisma.  "Are you two settling in alright?" Maiko had been here since September of the last school year, and she still found herself trying to find her balance. Camille started teaching this school year. With the abnormally high turnover rate of professors, it was difficult to truly get to know her coworkers. Other than the ones who stuck around, of course.

“Not all of us curse breakers are fit to dash around the world, either.” The welsh witch waved at the cane and gave a small shrug. She used to be resentful, unwilling to discuss it. Now it was a miserable fact of life.

Charisma hadn’t been at Hogwarts for a particularly long time. She’d ended up in her job with the responsibilities by accident. Covering a professor leaving suddenly back in October, she’d stepped in temporarily as a chance to get away from Gringott’s and a husband who claimed he needed serious space. Temporary had turned into permanent. The lack of Ravenclaw head had been evident in February when she’d stepped up, only to be asked to do that job too. Apparently the witch couldn’t shake the place. This, she was honestly grateful for. The thought of returning home any time soon wasn’t a thrilling one.

“Beautifully.” From her armchair, the cursebreaker flashed a smile at the counsellor. “You’re looking, officially, at the new head of Ravenclaw. Apparently no other mug will take the job.”

"Are you two settling in alright?”
“Beautifully. You’re looking, officially, at the new head of Ravenclaw. Apparently no other mug will take the job.”

“Congratulations!” Camille replied, missing the query from Mai being also directed at her. It had been six months now since she’d taken up the post of Arithmancy Professor, and the way colleagues had come and gone in that time made her feel she’d been there longer. “Not all of us are eligible to take them up. Why does it make you a teacup?” The Belgian was puzzled at the expression from her colleague.

She joined them by sitting down on a neighbouring armchair with tea in hand and turned over a recent issue of the Daily Prophet for casual interest. Yet more articles about dementors. Healer Hollingbury, this week. Camille had thought to send him something in the hope he was feeling better.