(Just before dinner)

Learning to put trust in his teachers had been one of the hardest transitions Sasha had made when he first arrived at Hogwarts.  The teachers at the schools his family had chosen to enroll him in had shared his step-father's belief that coddling only weakened the mind and body and failure was inexcusable.  He'd always done well in his classes, even before Hogwarts, but his performance had always been driven by an unquestionable wariness towards the authority figures that taught him. 

He had yet to completely cast aside those hard-learned, early lessons - he was still not entirely at ease around even the authority figures at Hogwarts.  But, over time, he'd allowed himself to grow progressively more comfortable around them.  And, learning to trust both his Head of House and Professor Greyfriar had been crucial since his first day.  He was dependent on them to ensure that any correspondences home were carefully disguised.

Had someone told Sasha that he'd be regarding the departure of a school official - and the top official at that - with anything other than somewhat wary and somewhat apathetic relief, he wouldn't have believed them for a moment.  But, it was with a heavy heart and considerable regret that he stepped into the Headmaster's office after a three reserved raps on the door. 

"Good evening, sir," he said, brushing a nervous hand over the front of his robes, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles.  As usual, there was hardly a wrinkle or scuff-mark to be found on his uniform.  "I'm sorry to disturb you; I know you are probably busy getting ready to ... for the feast."  He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.  The gravity and finality of the next few days - not just the professor leaving but the end of the school year - was playing with his already primed nerves.  "I just wanted to thank you.  For everything.  I know I couldn't be here on my own."

Knox Greyfriar was sorting through scrolls of parchment.  They were sticking out of a cabinet of a thousand cubbies, and laid out in stacks, and sitting partially unfurled on chairs and tables around the ursine wizard.  He'd shed the many layers of robes he usually wore and was down to a white billowing shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

He'd gotten a visit from a student or two this week, now that the Daily Prophet had revealed his intentions to vacate his post.  But he had yet to address the school formerly.  To be honest, he was dreading it.  All those eyes and questions. His personal life suddenly becoming the center of attention, and Knox knowing that the answers lay in his personal shame.  Was he running? Was he repenting? Had he simply failed and removed himself for the safety of his students? Or maybe he was just tired. 

Hogwarts had thrived for hundreds of years before he'd had influence here, and there was no doubt in his mind that his replacement would be completely able to manage. 

But the look on Sasha's face... Poor Sasha Schlegenweit had come so far.  His trust had been hard earned and how might this affect him?  Knox felt for him.  It was, of course, no bother for Sasha to visit.  Knox greeted him in return with a gentle smile and a nod.

He continued to poke through the coiled files as he replied.

"You know, we haven't had parents as obstinant as yours in my recollection.  I think that Headmaster Dumbledore had mentioned that a young Gryffindor called Finnigan needed some altered letters home.  But your case, Sasha, I've been told has been unique.  May God forgive us," he said with a chuckle.

"But then, institutional deception is a part of magical culture.  Secrets are in our blood it seems, or has needed to be for many generations.  Is it any wonder that there are people like you and me.  You, living a lie and I - well hiding in my office until I must face the music."

He was waxing overlong so he stopped speaking.  But he added, "You don't need to worry."

Everything had a cycle, a rhythm, like the transition from home to school and back again.  Just as rhythmically, people came and went from other people's lives.  The Daily Prophet had offered nothing in explanation for the Headmaster's decision to leave Hogwarts but Sasha had known the reasons were far from his business.  The Headmaster would tell them what he wanted them to know; it wasn't for Sasha to know anything beyond that. 

At the same time, Sasha's hands felt restless and useless; almost itching with the need to be occupied with something.  But, there was nothing for them to do but to brush over his robes or give his sleeves an occasional, random tug.  The Headmaster's casual attire (as well as the reality that standing in this room was bringing to light) had been unexpected and Sasha's eyes flighted from Professor Greyfriar to the room around him as restlessly as his hands fidgeted. 

His gaze stopped darting around the room as the Headmaster looked up and offered him a warm smile.  Sasha licked his lips as he listened and nodded before he spoke.  "My step-father's pretty stubborn, sometimes," Sasha said, needlessly.  What his mother's perceptions were harder to discern; she'd always been a follower. 

"Their minds are pretty well made on this topic.  I mean, I've never really asked them since, but ... you can tell."  The responses to televisions shows, the outfits of those they passed on the street, all were tell tale signs.  Sasha had no desire, yet, to tempt fate.  He shook his head, his gaze dropping to the floor as his face wrinkled in a cringe.  "According to them, God wouldn't forgive," he admitted quietly, his voice quiet and slightly detached. 

Surprised by the Headmaster's forthrightness, Sasha looked up and across at the older man.  The Headmaster was hiding?  From what proverbial music.  Sasha wasn't sure what, if anything, was appropriate to say and he doubted even more it was his place to try.  Normally, he'd have no question that was the case, except Professor Greyfriar had brought it up.  "Biding your time isn't the same thing as hiding," Sasha said, finding parroting something his older sister had told him easier than finding his own words.  Superficially, it seemed to fit, but he couldn't be certain.  It had been in the midst of water pistol match when he was eight that she'd told him this.

"I still haven't really told anyone," Sasha admitted, awkwardly though, again, it was probably unnecessary.  Sasha didn't doubt that the man across from him knew more about the going-ons in the school than most people assumed.  "A girl almost found out, though.  I ... would it be possible to leave my things here, as usual?  Even with ... even if we don't know ... if the new Headmaster doesn't know?"  He said, quickly changing subject in his own nervousness.

While he had never become exactly comfortable with any of the professors, the quiet, mutual knowing of those on staff that were privy to his situation had been its own source of steady support.  It, admittedly, terrified him to think that, in a few months time, some stranger might be sitting in this office. 

Knox's eyebrows went up.  He regarded Sasha with surprise and a tinge of pity.

"You haven't told anyone, Sasha? But why not? You've been here four years now.  You've not opened up to any of your friends? They can help with this sort of thing, you know.  There's nothing like a few understanding friends to hear you out - help you get through summers."

Setting down the parchments for now, giving his full attention to the young wizard, Headmaster Greyfriar took up his brown vest and pulled it on.  As he buttoned it up, he shook his head.

"Sasha, consider it.  In these last few days, you should find someone to confide in." Knox paused trying to remember who Sasha was mates with.  It was tricky - he certainly was a loner.  "What about Beatrix or Megan?" he named two Ravenclaw girls he'd seen him with.

"Can you speak to them? They're good witches.  Clever too! Megan's muggleborn - she'd know how to get post to you without owls.  Really, Sasha.  Consider it. We can't keep our secrets to ourselves.  Even our darkest need an ear."

In a deeply appropriate moment, Knox realized he could have been speaking to himself.  But that's what he was doing, wasn't it? Giving himself and his darkness back to Meredith Ballentyne?  Not quite a Secret Keeper, more like... a wife.

Sasha cringed slightly at the sound of disbelief in the man's voice.  In his nervousness, his mind's immediate response was to take the disbelief as an indication of disapproval.  Fidgeting where he stood just inside the doorway, Sasha shook his head. 

"I came close a few times," he admitted, even more quietly, now with an apologetic air to it.  "Or rather, I didn't try.  It was more ... it threatened to happen.  But, I ... I don't know." 

His strategy for keeping his head above the confusion of lies and deceit (he'd never been a good liar to begin with) had been to regard the two worlds as completely separate and equal.  They could coexist, just so long as they were kept completely divided.  Like the stories of Berlin his stepfather would tell.  His family lived on one side; his classmates and teachers lived on the other.  He, alone, had the papers to move between them and if someone were to find out, the game would be up.

Logically, he knew that paranoia was no longer necessary and he could see the reason on Professor Greyfriar's words.  But, the fear and shame that rose whenever the topic came near was enough to keep him quiet.

"It has just always seemed easier to keep them separate.  No one likes to hear people complain."  He could imagine his sister scolding him for hiding behind her father's twisted logic. 

He did consider his recommendation; there was a limited number of people he could imagine telling such personal things to.  He wasn't sure if Beatrix would understand.  Though she didn't have any of the muggleborn prejudice, "Beatrix is pureblood.  She doesn't understand how football isn't boring."  She was very nice and easy to talk to but when he considered all the things he'd have to, inevitably, explain to make her understand, it seemed insurmountable.  "Megan might understand," he agreed.

Sasha's eyes traveled around the office again and a question occurred to him.  "Sir.  Anyone who is a wizard in Britain.  They would have probably come here, right?" he asked.

Knox listened tranquilly as Sasha navigated the strange ally ways of teenage allegiances.  His concerns about Beatrix weren't irrational or unexpected.  Sasha's background seemed to have made him hyper aware of class or other social differences than perhaps his peers.  And Beatrix, as kind as she was, would be lucky to have escaped the prejudices of her kind completely. 

He smoothed out his vest over his stomach then rolled his sleeves down and did up the four buttons on each cuff.  He needed to speak breifly with Persepolis Zephyr, chair of the School Governors before the feast - he hoped he'd have time.  If not, he was sure whatever it was, it could wait until after. Now that the hectic end of term schedule was finally concluding, Knox's head had moved into a space of sweet, slow halcyon. The only thing left to do was this feast.

The Headmaster cocked his head and squinted at Sasha's question.  "Hmm..."  It was a good question.

"Everyone may attend who's a witch or wizard in Britain or Ireland," he began carefully, "but not all do.  I have heard of rare cases of families choosing a foreign school for their child.  There is also a small movement to hire private tutors - but Hogwarts has its own prestige, as you know, so it's not a very large population at all. Some students leave early, others never come at all.  Most often, muggleborns, but occasionally a wizard-born witch or wizard will have no inclination for more school and enters the workplace.  Do you know the Weasley shop in Diagon Ally? They never quite finished here.  In fact, in another of my lives, I was educated at Oxford University." (Whatever that last meant...)

He smiled.  "Are you thinking of leaving us, Sasha?" he asked, trying not to sound accusatory, overly curious or disappointed - it came off strangely, as if he'd asked the lad if he cared for lentil soup with pumpkin spice.

Sasha listened closely to the explanation; it seemed straightforward enough, even if it wasn't as helpful as he hoped.  So, chances were good, anyone of magical heritage would have come here, but it wasn't conclusive.  Of course, Sasha knew it was a long shot coming into this. 

The recent releases of the yearbooks had stimulated his curiosity, though.  Was it possible that somewhere in the back issues of those books was a picture of his own father?  If his father was British and a wizard, it seemed very likely but how far that knowledge got him was highly questionable.  It took into account several different assumptions: that he wasn't muggleborn and that his father wasn't from another country.  More than anything, he had little idea of what he'd be looking for.  Without a sense of what years the individual would have attended school or what house he would have been in and, even more so, what he looked like, it would be like looking for one particular puzzle piece in a sea of other pieces with no clue what it should look like.

"I see," Sasha replied, vaguely, hoping his disappointment stayed out of his tone. 

"You ... you went to Oxford, sir?" Sasha asked, the surprise quite evident in his voice.  "As in ... you know, the muggle university?  But, you're a - aren't - I'm sorry, sir.  May I ask why a wizard would go to Oxford?"  Was that common?  That people would continue in education in the muggle world after Hogwarts.  "Wouldn't that be kind of like, you know, cheating?  Wouldn't you have an advantage over the other students?"  Assuming, of course, the other students were all muggles.

Quickly, he shook his head.  "Oh no, sir.  I'm coming back.  I was just curious.  About someone else.  Not me.  But,..."  he hesitated a moment. Sasha didn't want to pester Professor Greyfriar, but he hadn't actually answered Sasha's question.  "I ... does that mean it's alright?  If my stuff stays here?"

At further inquery about Oxford, the Headmaster just waved his hand dismissively and said, "No no, nothing like that. It's only cheating if you cheat."  In fact, Knox had not gone to Oxford, but he'd had his fortune told and the old sage described one of his alternate lives.*

Instead he pressed on to speak more on Sasha's predicament.  The boy was so secretive! Each sentence seemed to be measured so as not to spend too much information.  He could imagine Sasha as a careful alchemist measuring golden powder in a tiny sieve, metering it so carefully not a grain escapes.

It saddened Knox somehow.  A young wizard who couldn't trust anyone.  Knox understood that loneliness.  And, for the first time he began to consider allowing his own precious truth to leak, allow the pressure to release and alleviate the aching in his heart.

But when he opened his mouth next, it was not to bare his soul - rather, he said in affected joviality, "Sasha, of course.  Stow it in  your dormitory.  I'll inform the elves to keep an eye on it.  I shall also include a note of your situation to my successor - whoever he might be.   I hope that's alright?" he asked gently, peering at Sasha.



_{*I'm sorry. I went kind of meta.  On the previous rpg, Knox had gone to Oxford. I was being silly.}  

Sasha's eyebrows arched in a subtle, barely noticeable scowl, his mind running the vague denial through his head.  Hadn't the Headmaster just said he'd been at Oxford?  But, wait.  No.  He'd said he'd been there in a ... Sasha's eyes flew wider open as he realized what the Headmaster had been saying. 

"You meant ... literally?" Sasha asked, surprise, uncertainty and confusion all mingled together  in his features.  He'd assumed, at first, the Headmaster had meant it in a figurative way.  Much like a business executive might describe his younger days of playing in a music band as his 'past life.'  "I ... you ... wizards believe in past lives?" he asked.  Even after four years in this world, it was amazing how regularly he was surprised by things here. 

"Yes, sir."  Sasha's shoulders felt a little lighter as he nodded towards the older man.  His belongings were one less thing to worry about before the year was up.  "Thank you.  I ... it does make it easier."  He, luckily - and to some degree purposefully - had no pets in the wizarding world.  He should have expected that, as a part of this, the incoming Headmaster would need to be made aware of his situation.  But, his habit of keeping things secret still made his stomach lurch at the prospects.  He wasn't thrilled with it, but he knew it'd be necessary.  "Alright," he agreed, nodding his head. 

His question answered, Sasha knew that the reasonable business had been taken care of.  On both the smaller level of this office and the larger level of the school as a whole, everything had been taken care of and there were no more barriers between where he was now and returning home.  As with most years, it was a somber realization.  He started to turn towards the door but hesitated a moment, throwing caution to the wind.  The worst that could happen, after all, was the man would say 'no.' 

"I ... I don't suppose - There's probably no way I could, you know, stay here over the summer, too.  Right?" he asked. 

Knox Greyfriar was looking around now for his overrobe, which was long and deep brown.  He had sloughed it off early to delve into the files and now he couldn't spot where he'd dropped it.  An elf had likely scooped it up and closeted it in a wardrobe.  He found his wand on the desk and with a quick wave, and a murmur of, "Accio brown robe," the clinking of glassware from a cabinet gave away his cloak's position.  He caught it and donned it.

"I'm sorry, Sasha," he said as he put his arms through.  "The castle needs its space summer times.  It hasn't been standing these many years without its beauty sleep.  Mysterious castle," he added, as if it were a good enough explanation.

A chime interrupted him.

"I'm so sluggish in the spring time," he admitted as he buttoned up his front.  "Late for dinner already.  Look, Sasha, think about an internship.  Your Head of House has a list.  It'll get you out of the house, help you keep in touch with your friends.  And there should be no problem arranging a perfectly parent-pleasing cover."

He laughed a little to himself.  On one hand he was asking Sasha to open up and be honest and in the practically the same breath he was asking him to decieve his family.  A wizard's life, especially a muggleborn's, seemed to be drenched in that kind of contradiction.  For Merlin's sake, the Ministry of Magic employed a whole squad of Oblivators whose sole purpose was to lie for an entire society.

"Alright, lad?"

It wasn't a surprise.  Sasha hadn't really expected to be allowed to stay the summer.  Even if, by some miracle, Sasha had been presented with the option to stay at school, he wasn't even sure if he'd take it.  As much as he liked to avoid his problems and confrontation in general, Sasha knew avoiding home wouldn't solve anything.  And, as much as he found himself at odds with his family, he still cared about them and knew he owed them more than simply disappearing. 

"It's alright," Sasha resigned easily enough.  While Sasha had long ago accepted that anything could happen in this world, he didn't quite buy the explanation that the castle needed its space.  But, despite his doubts, he accepted it at face value.  "It was worthy a try." 

There was a chime from an unidentifiable location and the Headmaster announced the pending meal.  As was the tendency with past year end feasts, Sasha could feel his appetite slipping away quickly from him.  But, dutifully, he brushed his hands over the front of his robes, making sure he was presentable. 

Sasha nodded, wordlessly.  He'd been looking into internships though, between that and a full schedule of games and shows, it was going to prove to be a busy summer.  But, he'd taken enough of the Headmaster's time - both in the short term and long term.  It was time for Professor Greyfriar to leave.  Turning towards the door, shifting awkwardly, Sasha looked back towards the Headmaster. 

"Thank you, sir," he offered, quietly.  "It was an honor to study under you."  With a last nod, Sasha turned to slip out the door to make his way to the Great Hall.