2 lessons being missed that morning was unavoidable. They may not have been speaking and they may be estranged, but around 40 years of being married to the same man meant that one couldn’t simply turn a blind eye when he was attacked in their family home. A home that she’d sufficiently warded to protect from such an event. Even the aurors were weary of the Aldridge home and that was how it should be. But now, with Ryan back home with his tail between his legs and recovering from the bruises to his body and his ego, Charisma returned to Hogwarts part way through lunchtime.

Making no efforts to speak to other members of staff, Charisma made straight for her classroom which she knew would currently be empty. Her wooden cane cracked against the stone floor of the corridor before she withdrew her wand to unlock the heavy door. It was already unlocked. Frowning at yet another security problem that day, the witch kept her wand in the air and pushed the door open with her cane.

“Breaching a curse breaker’s classroom is bold and reckless.” The welsh witch addressed whoever had dared enter as she stepped inside. She’d not set any curses, of course, apparently, that was too dangerous for a Hogwarts classroom.

The intruders weren’t, however, pupils. Instead, Charisma and her wand came face to face with Ignan Storm and Lillian Honeysuckle, the sickeningly sweet muggle studies professor. Catching a glimpse of the Deputy Headmaster’s expression, Charisma was given the distinct feeling that she was about to receive a telling off; or an attempted telling off, at least.

The extent of Ignan’s understanding of runes was enough to carve protective boundaries on dwellings and physical defences. Even then, he referred to books to ensure he had the right angles and settings. He was not qualified to teach an introduction to a NEWT ancient runes course, which is what the sixth years were meant to endure the first lesson that Friday. When Charisma had left Hogwarts unexpectedly that morning with no adequate explanation, he’d stood at the front of her classroom and directed the sixth years to the questions in the first chapter of their text books to complete in silence while he worked.

Aldridge hadn’t returned by the fifth year lesson before lunch either, according to Lillian Honeysuckle. The polite and open-minded Muggle Studies professor who could cover for a bit of extra money. She had to be in first thing and last thing on a Friday, and never complained (which was partly why Ignan had felt he could get away with giving her that timetable, complete with the fifth years last thing on a Friday).

With Charisma still not back and the one afternoon lesson remaining to cover, Honeysuckle had kindly agreed to also cover it, and was merrily telling Ignan how she remembered studying an OWL in the subject when she was at school. He was being pleasant to her as she was helping at short notice and genuinely appeared to enjoy being asked to do a bit extra. The students loved her in various guises, as it was. She could be a bit of a pushover, in Ignan’s opinion, but nothing chronic.

Aldridge, on the other hand, as well as becoming close friends with Camille, would regularly take a dig at him as a senior member of staff, so the Deputy Head felt altogether less charitable towards her at the moment she returned to her classroom before the end of lunch.

“Breaching a curse breaker’s classroom is bold and reckless.”
“Oh Charisma, we were wondering where you were.” Honeysuckle turned and smiled at her colleague in a welcoming manner. Professor Storm looked rather more sceptically at the Head of Ravenclaw.

“You teach runes, Aldridge,” he uttered scathingly, “at least you are meant to.”
“Oh.” Honeysuckle interjected softly, realising the wizard with them was not at all pleased with the returning witch.
“Thank you Professor Honeysuckle, I think you will not be needed after all.” He gave her a sharp nod to dismiss her, “would you close the door.” The muggle studies professor’s soft-soled boots crossed the classroom and obliged without further ado, aware, as all the staff were, of the benefits of staying on Ignan’s good side.

“So?” He asked, arms folded.

It was a telling off. Even dear Honeysuckle could tell, willingly and quickly leaving the room at the order to their Deputy Headmaster as if his word was law. In this castle, he’d clearly decided it was, a reason Charisma didn’t make an effort to get on with the wizard. She truly wasn’t a fan of domineering men, far preferring to have control herself. Starting at Hogwarts had been a steep learning curve when it came to taking orders and following a routine she wasn’t used to, made all the trickier with the old codger, his austere manner and cold fish stare.

His tone only served to unseat the already ill-tempered witch after a morning spent with the husband who barely spoke to her and clearly hated her for her secret keeping. Ignan Storm was the last person she wanted to come up against right now.

“So?” The Deputy Headmaster crossed his arms, clearly eager to give his Welsh colleague a dressing down. Charisma simply stared, reminding herself that she actually liked her job and didn’t need to lose it because this wizard had a love of control and being a stick in the arse.

“Thank you, Ignan.” The professor offered the wizard a strained smile, moving further into the classroom, towards the large desk at the front of the room, her limp more evident, clearly the stress of the morning having affected it. “I appreciate your support this morning. If you require a favour repaying, you need only ask.” She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of rising to the bait.

Honeysuckle was obliging and obedient and left them both to it. Aldridge was not at all, but at least she didn’t blather some weak protest and acted professionally until their colleague had left. However, Ignan, who had worked a full morning and had other things to do than arrange who supervised students to read chapters of Runes textbooks, bristled.

“This isn’t about favours,” Ignan replied, keeping his tone low, and his arms crossed. His pale gaze followed Charisma around the room, seeking a visible explanation, “this is about fulfilling one’s duty and obligations to Hogwarts as a teacher. You left this morning without reasonable explanation or prior arrangement. You owe an explanation.”

Clearly Ignan wasn’t going to simply leave the classroom and leave her to get on with her business and preparations for the class soon to be making their way over. Charisma let him prattle on in his irritated manner, arriving at her desk and lowering herself into the comfortable seat she’d procured from some poor sap’s office.

“You owe an explanation.” The moody German informed her and Charisma’s gaze snapped to him, unimpressed. Evidently being nice hadn’t worked.
“Do I?” she challenged. Ignan Storm might have scared or intimidated various other staff members, but Charisma just found him a grumpy git that needed to remove the wand from up his obviously tight rectum.

“You’ll find I owe Greyfriar an explanation, Storm.” Perhaps the wizard forgot that he wasn’t in fact the Headmaster. “I owe you a thank you for covering my class this morning. So thank you.”

“Whichever,” Ignan snapped, deciding he didn’t have the time to debate which of her seniors she reported to about her unscheduled absence. “But it best be a very good excuse. After last year’s Runes results, you cannot afford to miss lessons with the older students.”

Unless Aldridge turned out two classes of outstanding grades, there would always be room for improvement, especially if she thought she could drop her duties at a moment’s notice. Ravenclaws always were the arrogant ones, believing they were the most intelligent in a room, that they could outwit anyone with their declarations. So often book learning was trumped by practical, and this afternoon the Deputy Headmaster felt like ensuring Ravenclaw ended the week with the least house points.

In the corridor beyond the classroom door where Honeysuckle had closed it a moment before, he could hear the fourth years chattering loudly, and a chorus of shrieks as something crashed. Professor Storm wasted no further time, turning on his heel with a brisk dismissal, “Good afternoon Professor Aldridge.” The classroom door flew open ahead of him and the fourth years gathered in front of it scattered to either side, glancing in the wake of the Defences Professor and into the classroom at their Runes Professor, curious as to the gossip.