When he’d arrived it was Snark, then Reid, and McGonnagal. As Deputy, the wizard in the circular office was the third Head Professor he’d serve since joining the staff in as many years ago.

At least he had heard good things of this one and he had held the post before. Minerva had kept a steady hand, but her age and her additional responsibilities at the Wizengamot had left them rather stretched. As with any new working relationship, there would be some teething and adjustment time to get used to each other’s opinions and way of doing things. He couldn’t help but glance up at the way the portraits of previous headmasters and headmistresses were examining Greyfriar, reinstated in his place at the desk.

“Things back as you want them, Headmaster?” Professor Storm asked politely, “All settled in before the rabble arrives?”

Being Scotland, the temperatures had taken a tumble for the last day of August. The rain had cleared, but the cloud outside robbed any last sunshine, and gave a distinct back to school vibe to the whole castle as Professors finalised their classrooms and house elves polished the coats of armour.

“I’ve checked the school roll,” the Deputy Headmaster added with the air of independent efficiency, “we are up on last year. We’ve retained more of our fifth years after their OWLs than anticipated, which is good news. All the Professor posts have been filled, one way or the other, too.” Ignan was none too sure about some of the appointments, but he held his colleagues to impeccably high standards, especially in the absence of a Head Professor. “Are you familiar with them all?”

Knox looked like he'd blown in with the autumn weather. He'd been in and out of the castle and grounds for a few days and seemed like an avatar of the north wind herself: wild grey-streaked hair, ruddy cheeks, and leaves-clung cloak. He felt like he hadn't had a seat in as many days. Everything that had to be done - paperwork, packing, unpacking, checking in, checking over - was all done on his feet, mid-stride, or hunched over.

And in the face of it all, he was more than merry.

The Deputy of Hogwarts stood there like an obelisk and Knox Greyfriar felt the tiniest bit sheepish. Hogwarts School had experienced a half-decade of tidal changes and in the changing seasons it had been Storm who had been the most steadfast. Greyfriar had done his share of leaving and felt very aware that he had some dues to pay, both to Storm's diligence and these walls. This did not diminish his mirth, of course, and only increased his warmth and deference to his illustrious colleague.

"Seems a bit presumptive to say so, but it's as though I never left. That's my inkwell."  On the desk was a little cobalt blue glass inkwell. He'd brought it with him when he started at Hogwarts years ago, and had apparently left it behind.  He stood straight, hands on his hips and beamed.

There was nothing very orderly about Knox Greyfriar, so Knox thought it best not to let on to the efficient Ignan Storm that the standard of 'settled in' was an easy get. His inkwell was here, wasn't it?

"Ah, yes! That's good to hear. Thank you."  Knox didn't offer Storm a seat or a drink. He didn't figure either of them wanted one, as they'd soon both be in motion shortly.

"Are you familiar with them all?"

The Headmaster was not. He came around the desk and rifled in a stack on sidebar. It was a roster.

"I'm afraid not... Camille, I've met. Served on the Wizengamot with Prewett's father, but never met this one. Singh's reputation precedes him.  For the moment, I'll have to be satisfied with them being familiar with me." He paused to measure his words.

"I hope you won't consider this a slight on what I'm sure is your very discreet nature, but I don't suppose you can give the skinny?" He smiled winningly.

Ignan followed his senior’s gesture to the inkwell and appraised it mildly. A man’s office was where his inkwell was?

“I’ll have to be satisfied with them being familiar with me.” Greyfriar replied, and Ignan gave a quiet nod of acknowledgement, adding himself to the list that Knox expected to do so. He didn’t know the man well at all, but he anticipated they would know each other better in coming weeks.

“… don’t suppose you can give the skinny?”
“On your staff?” Ignan asked, a little rhetorically, but to be sure. He didn’t often get asked for the skinny. He did hope Greyfriar wasn’t the sort to use teenage slang to try and become a ‘friend’ to the students. He’d seen a number of colleagues try to do that the past three years, all with varying degrees of success. Kesali seemed to have grown out of it, what with fatherhood.

“Singh, Aldridge - Runes, Duerr, Prewett, Honeysuckle and I are all returning. Kesali’s been out for year, and newest face is Onuris, like a few of us now, he’s not alumni.” Whether it was the war or the current climate amongst British wixes, but the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang-taught professors were making headway at Hogwarts.

“Singh’s tame, efficient, good Head of House for Gryffindor. I’ve had no issue with him, though he can be a little soft on the troublemakers.” Ignan slid his hands into his suit trouser pockets, gaze following Knox, “Aldridge on the other hand, runs a generally tight ship in Ravenclaw. Students seem alright with her, even if she’s not always open to direction from above. Duerr had good results in the summer, but had some public upsets, lives in the castle, and engages in Hogwarts life.” Hopefully there’d be no more of them making column inches this year.  Speaking of...

“Prewett arrived in the wake of the incidents in February when we lost students from Hogsmeade. Proved reliable, well resourced.” The Deputy Headmaster had no issue with him, yet, but the same might not be said for the other. “Honeysuckle wouldn’t hurt a fly, often looks out for a few extra hours if we’re down a body. Nightingale Kesali was a bit of a wildcard the other year… bit like Marmite,” Ignan had got that description from a Muggleborn colleague, “students love him or hate him, I'll keep an eye on his less conventional methods. Onuris, not much on him, though he’s come with strong endorsement from Level 4.”

He glanced back to Knox, to check if the summary had been efficient, and well received. He could go into detail, if requested, of course. That was part of his responsibilities.

As for Greyfriar, well, Miranda had described him as an eccentric.

Oh joy, Ignan had replied.

Knox Greyfriar crossed his arms and leaned against the sturdy desk as the Deputy recited dossiers. He carefully considered what seemed to be objective, professional assessments.

He already had plans to visit Onuris, groundskeeper, as soon as possible for, well, extra-curricular reasons. And this Kesali fellow seemed like a strange one - hopefully a strangeness in the Hogwarts tradition. He was heartened by Storm's descriptions of Singh, Honeysuckle, and Aldridge.

It didn't bother Knox Greyfriar too much that the staff was more and more international. It was a powerful shift of tradition, but the benefits of a more diverse approach to magic he imagined were substantial. History, in general, seemed to agree even if the way through was always charged.

By the time Storm was finished, Knox was nodding already itching to speak.

"Good, good. I'll be making a point to harass each of them individually," he said with his typical hyperbole. "I won't impose the horrors of a staff meeting until classes are underway, but I don't want to delay it too long."

He took a slightly more serious tone, and his furrowed brow showed that what he was about to say was dearly held: "I have no intention of meddling, Storm. I've no interest in being a bear about this. In my time, it's become clear to me that we all do our best when we are who we are. My method is to stay aware of goings on and facilitate everyone's own best work. Bother with the School Governors to provision resources, assist with family concerns, do my part to keep Hogwarts the safest place in Britain. It's the practice of some bureaucrats to make changes for the sake of it - that hasn't been my reputation."

He shrugged.

"Other than that, likely everything else you've all heard of me is true. I'm a bombastic old fool and a savage beast on a full moon"

“I have no intention of meddling, Storm,” Greyfriar reassured him, though his Deputy’s cool gaze didn’t indicate strong agreement or confidence in this assertion. “… we all do our best when we are who we are.”

On first impressions, Greyfriar seemed a rather more cuddly Headmaster than those who had come in between his stints. Ignan didn’t necessarily value empathy in leadership, he palmed the pastoral side of teaching off to the head of houses as far as possible. It was their job, while his was order, efficiency and discipline. None of these traits came to Miranda’s mind when she’d accounted for him, which meant it would fall to Ignan to keep them at Hogwarts.

He let Greyfriar say his peace, reserving further judgement on how well his words would hold up three, four weeks into term once Kesali had pulled off a stunt, someone had set fire to the greenhouses, and Ignan had made half a dozen students cry and caused the hospital wing to order additional supplies. That was just the staff.

“I’m a bombastic old fool, and a savage beast on a full moon.”

“About that, Headmaster,” Professor Storm ventured in a quiet, but assertive tone, having barely moved throughout his senior’s explanation. “Much as I respect your ability to manage your condition, to maintain the safety of Hogwarts, it is prudent for us to have a routine, and a plan, should an emergency arise at full moon.”

The Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher didn’t mean he had to babysit Greyfriar, but if he didn’t make it to wherever he could be contained, Headmaster or not, Ignan wouldn’t hold back. Especially when the Ministry had already fined him, and the witch who had partly caused his brush with death earlier that year. In years past, the Professor had fought off direwolves from students, and in his past life hunted those afflicted like Knox. It would be a concern for many parents, and he doubted they would appreciate Greyfriar assisting with those concerns.

There had been a few reserved words of warning concerning Ignan Storm. A colleague at the Wizengamot had told Knox there was 'no need to sleep with one eye open' in a way that made Knox wonder why he should have thought of that in the first place. For most of the population, the lack of nocturnal threat was so obvious that it wasn't worth mentioning.  His friend at the Three Broomsticks was eager to relate all the most Stroker of adjectives: cold, severe, grim, heartless, might-be-a-ghost, lethal. Minerva McGonagall hadn't seem a reason to say anything about Storm other than he was effective and well-suited.

So all told, the timing and manner with which Storm broached the topic of his a-cursed affliction was not much of a shock, and Greyfriar had no reason to take offense.

"You're a tactful fellow, Professor Storm. I couldn't agree more."  Only at this subject did the Headmaster finally sit down in the great cozy chair behind the desk. It creaked in welcome.

The truth was, there had been werewolves at Hogwarts before. This precedent proved useful in both managing the Ministry's expectations and crafting what Storm had called a routine.

"I think it will be best if I'm out of the castle entirely. That's what I'm going to be speaking with Mr. Onuris about - a sturdy, useful venue in a secluded part of the Forbidden Forest will allow a few miles between my fateful agonies and wandering bloodstreams. A few stout locks, a dozen wards, and a stoked fire will keep me happy."

He continued.

"Regulations call for a concierge," - Greyfriar's word, not theirs - "an amendable agent to manage the locks."

The Ministry would provide one, or approve a few of his own. Knox shrugged, and seemed at peace with redundancies of security.

"What further concerns do you have?"

The headmaster took a pew, and Professor Storm turned on the spot to address him face to face over the grand desk, complete with the inkwell Greyfriar was surprised to still see there. The Headmaster recounted the arrangements he had made, and his deputy committed them to memory, nodding sharply in agreement at situating himself outside of the castle. The next full moon would be on Monday the 12th, so preparations had to be in place before then.

“Regulations call for a concierge, an amendable agent to manage the locks.” Greyfriar shrugged. The Defences professor’s wand hand twitched slightly at the thought that someone reliable would need to tuck the Headmaster into bed, so to say.
“What further concerns do you have?”

There was no easy way to discuss this, was there. For whatever tact Knox had just suggested Ignan had, he was a hair’s breadth from undoing it all so early on.

“I have seen staff come and go since I arrived, Headmaster,” his deputy spoke in measured tones, not maintaining eye contact, not wanting this to be accusatory - which unfortunately his mere nature could be - “and I would prefer to keep you in post, both in this office and on the first floor.” He took a visible breath and continued, “We have had had more than our fair share of losses. My concerns is to let us finish the year with as many students as we started with, apart from those who step aside of their own volition.”

The older wizard looked back to Greyfriar, “I volunteer as one concierge, ensure your movements are clockwork. The minimum of inconvenience to you, while safeguarding the school. I have no intentions to fuss, or allow others to.” His hand had extended towards Knox, palm downturned, in placation. He did not suppose the Headmaster enjoyed any of this monthly dance for the sake of the moon, nor enjoy having to discuss the plans to contain him. But if he had to march Greyfriar down and bring him clothes and breakfast the next day he would, just to keep a steady hand on the tiller. However eccentric it might be.

“Please keep me appraised of progress with Onuris and a location.” He nodded his head respectfully, giving Knox the opportunity to move on from the subject.

All the productive energy Knox had a moment ago seemed to begin slipping away once he sat down and conversation dutifully turned to the unpleasant topic. He knew donning the cold smiling mask would continue to be a numbing, weary-making affair, but it was a mask that would be well-used before a few full moons had waxed and waned.

As Hannah Bombay had taught him well, there was very little understanding for bristles and hackles in even the most respectable werewolves. He knew that if he lacked any of the picture of cheery compliance, ideals more important than his own employment concerns could be at risk.

So perhaps his guard was a bit thin by the time Storm volunteered, because Knox's arching eyebrow and unhidden scoff showed his naked cynicism.

But his better nature took over more quickly and he forced a smile. "I would have asked you anyway, I suppose."

He stood back up, trying to shake the morbid haze from his thoughts.

Knox had a few additional questions for the Deputy Headmaster concerning the Herbology and Potions stores, a note about a pair of sibling students who would not be arriving at Hogwarts until a week after term had begun (family emergency), the closing of on of the east towers due to a lightning strike over the summer, and a report from the Fat Friar that a new ghost has been spotted in the dungeons.

"He couldn't give me any details, you know how he can't stop laughing. Thought we should keep an eye out. New ghosts can be disoriented, I understand."

All in all, this conversation wasn’t really going very well - empathically speaking. Ignan wasn’t known for being the most easy to befriend person, and the comings and goings of headmasters had made him more protective of systems in place at Hogwarts. That, and he had protected students against direwolves and dementors with his own wand on the grounds. His concerns about Greyfriar, he felt, were entirely justified, even if he had the support of the governors. They weren’t the ones here to deal with it on the day.

The grim business over, they were onto more standard queries of stores, delayed arrivals, damage to the building and a new account of a recently appeared ghost.

“Thought we should keep an eye out. New ghosts can be disoriented, I understand.”
“I will notify Spirit Division of the possibility.” Ignan agreed. The castle was a very popular haunt, and although a new ghost hadn’t appeared in Ignan’s time here, the odd ghost did moan to him about ‘newbies’ - meaning ghosts who had appeared in the last 100 years, as far as Ignan could tell. “I’m sure once the castle is full of eyes and ears we’ll get to hear about it in no time. Peeves will probably have a rhyme about them too…” The Deputy Headmaster trailed off, recalling the one he’d heard this morning. “I do believe he’s already perfected one about you, though maybe it’s a former classic.” He shrugged at his superior.

“Headmaster, I am thankful for your time today. I am sure we will confer again in the near future. Is there anything else I can assist you with?”

"Appreciated," Knox said, pleased to delegate the new ghost red tape to Storm.

The Deputy Headmaster wrapped things up, and the Headmaster found that his current docket was all taken care of for now.  When he had a moment, he'd reflect on the encounter and judge it to be an omen of a productive working relationship.  After all, they were to be full moon pals, and that was a sort of bosom friend, was it not?

Greyfriar's next smile wasn't forced. "Oh, Merlin's beard, it's my gratitude that's in order. I worry you'll be bearing the majority of our onus while I settle in.  Shouldn't be long, though. Good night."

Fin.