Friday, 16^th December 2011
Last day of term
The Headmaster’s Office

Zeta Pepper sat and waited in front of the Headmaster’s massive desk. She picked at the black laquer on her nails where it was already beginning to flake off. She’d planned to spend the train ride home reapplying. Maybe a glittery lime green? But her mind was consumed with other things. She’d been called to the Headmaster’s office and she knew it wasn’t good. Not after how her exams had gone. She didn’t have her results back but when you leave half of the spaces blank, you didn’t need a Seer to predict the outcome.

“Good afternoon, Miss Pepper,” came the voice of the Headmaster behind her. She turned in her seat to see him approach. She didn’t have him for History of Magic like many of her classmates so she hadn’t gotten to know them like they had. If anyone ever criticized him for anything that even smelled of anti-werewolf reasons, she’d be the first to pounce on them. But that didn’t mean she didn’t find his stature and booming voice intimidating.

“Sorry about the delay. Minor kerfuffle with a hexed trunk eating shoes,” he said coming around to set himself down in his great chair. He sat back and stroked his short black beard.

“S’alright,” she said and attempted a smile.

It was easy to see young Zeta was nervous and old Knox had to understand. “Your Head of Hufflepuff was called away on business, so I’m filling in. I hope you’ll forgive me - I was once in that role, oh too long ago, but I might be rusty at it.”

Zeta didn’t know what to think, so she nodded. “I’m sure you’ll do great, sir.”

“I think you know what this might be about.”

She shook her head and tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear.

The Headmaster, acting Head of Hufflepuff, tilted his head down and peered over his glasses at her.

“I think you do.”

Tears threatened but in Zeta fashion she kept them at bay with a deep breath and flash of defiance.

“My exams. So?”

Ever patient, Knox kept his voice quiet and nodded.

“Two of your professors stopped by to mention them, and I’m as perplexed as they are. We know you’re capable of better work, your files have you noted as ‘joy to have in class’ year after year, but this is a marked turn.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just tired or something,” Zeta said totally unconvincing. “I tried. That’s what matters isn’t it? It’s not like I’m … getting drunk in the library or … playing jokes on the house elves or running a gillyweed black market. It’s just a few tests. I don’t see why I’m in so much trouble.”

Knox furrowed his brow.

“You’re not in trouble, Miss Pepper.”

“Then why am I getting yelled at?” she said crossing her arms.

The Headmaster sighed and took off his glasses. “We worried. We want you do to well and be happy at Hogwarts. Is there something troubling you? Are you sleeping alright?”

The question seemed to offend Zeta. “Um, invasive? But don’t worry, I’m perfectly fine.” She slapped on a mocking smile to prove it.

How had this gotten so quickly combative, Knox thought to himself. He knew he didn’t need to remind her that she’d need to maintain passing marks to qualify to stay in the N.E.W.T. level courses in her seventh year. And that as imperfect as the system was, N.E.W.T.s were nicely packaged opportunities - they were worth trying for. But pointing any of this out would quickly disintegrate an already deteriorating intervention.

He folded his hands on the desk. But apparently he’d paused too long because Zeta filled the silence.

“So you never got a bad mark ever? I heard you were terrible in school. But you still became Headmaster and a Wizengamot Elder. Why do I have to be perfect, then? I’m going to be an artist anyway. What does Astronomy even matter. Not like stars are falling from the sky, is it?”

“That’s not really the point,” the Headmaster said gently. Zeta didn’t look like she believed him at all.

He continued with an apologetic sigh. “I should let you know that your marks are going to come with a letter that your parents will need to sign and returned to your Head of House.”

Zeta’s face fell and she leaned forward in her chair. “Why!? That’s invasion of privacy! I’m nearly seventeen or that mean nothing to you? Augh…” Zeta scowled like she smelled something terrible. She shook her head and rolled her eyes with a mightiness only managed by a nearly-seventeen-year-old.

“I can’t believe this.”

The Headmaster laid his hand on the desk and leaned forward.

“Take a rest over the holiday. Come back fresh in January and get after it like I know you can. I believe in you, Zeta.” He paused only a moment. She scoffed.

Then, mercifully he lifted his palm, releasing her. “That’s all, dear. You can go.”

Zeta didn’t jump up; she got up in her own time doing a fairly successful job in hiding how horrible she felt. She didn’t know how she felt. Then she gathered her things and said a curt, “bye,” before turning to go.

Fin