The first dinner back at Hogwarts after the winter holiday could be slightly dreary. There was little fanfare, the weather tended to dull spirits, and months of uninterrupted classwork loomed ahead before spring would arrive. It was also known by many that the last part of the month of December had carried with it personal and public trials and challenges along with yuletide cheer; and not all of it could be left outside the castle walls.

Two students were currently unaccounted for and there was a very quiet frenzy among the staff to try and locate them: Francis Sellaphix and Eirene Antonopoulos. The Headmaster did not want to raise alarm, but he was sure their absence would not go unnoticed at the Ravenclaw table. He had a sneaking suspicion that the reason they'd not made it to the train had something to do with the letters from home concerning a few other students who'd come down with this so-called Magical Measles. A small table had been set up for that lot in the antechamber with a strong recommendation they stay there. He'd arranged a Sorry You're Quarantined cake.

Also missing at his right was the Deputy Headmaster with an impeccable attendance record. Ignan Storm was also laid low with the magical malady, as communicated by his wife and St. Mungo's chief Miranda Storm. Who used to be employed at Hogwarts. Oh the webs.

Once the food was on the table (the Headmaster tried not to delay forks and knives with his typically unsettling announcements) the Headmaster stood at his place and got the attention of the Great Hall.

"Welcome back, those of you who made it. Don't fret for those missing among you. I can assure you nearly all of them are accounted for. I'm very sure that you're also worried at your missing Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Professor Storm has fallen ill, will surely recover, and I'm certain will be warmed in the cockles of his heart by any well-wishes you might wish to send him."

He went on. "Also of some note, do pay attention to the change in schedule. And best of luck to our students preparing for their OWLs and NEWTS. They will be thoroughly tested on their ability to take their OWLS and NEWTS. Lend them your support and patience as I'm sure they'll be grouchy, harried, and may neglect personal hygiene in favor of study."

Knox Greyfriar waved a hand. "Back to stuffing your faces, and make some attempt to get some rest tonight."

Oh, he'd  nearly forgotten. "By the way, if you find yourself unable to perform magic beyond any expected challenges, report to the Hospital Wing which has been recently repaired from when it was destroyed in protest a few years ago."

Aoide had thought it was her imagination that there were fewer students around the House tables at the Hogwarts feast. The train had been alight with odd stories of family members unable to come to Christmas as they were laid up with flu, and floo trips turned into misadventures.

“Don’t spend your time around sick people,” her auror mother had advised on the way to Kings Cross that morning. “Keep you and your clothes clean. Go outside and get as much fresh air as you can - but not in the rain without an umbrella charm, or sit in the snow. Wrap up.” Scotland was, after all, rather damp. Aoide had nodded obediently to all instructions, recounted them to school friends on the train.

“What are we sending him a get well soon card?” Aoide asked out loud, just before the Headmaster turned back to say his last. Her question stuck out a mile in the hall and her neck shrank back into her body at realising.

At least the Headmaster’s address hadn’t been quite the scary speech he had made at the end of term. But it was not exactly reassuring. The most reassuring element was that Professor Storm was off sick and that meant either they had no Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons or someone else would cover it. Aoide ran her eyes along the line of Professors at the table, deciding who might be nicest to take the lessons.

Tim had made it through the holidays without getting this horrible flu, or anything worse than watching Ambrose attempt to change a nappy by magic. (For the record it had gone better than expected, but Tim was never letting him attempt it again for their half-sister’s benefit.)

“… Don’t fret for the missing among you…” Greyfriar cautioned them, and Tim was not the only Ravenclaw who looked up and down the table, counting numbers, clocking faces and making mental notes about who hadn’t made it.

Over at the Hufflepuff table, Eta caught his eye and mouthed told you so. His cousin, but for their similar age, as good as a sister, Eta was absolutely fanatical about divination. If her third eye wasn’t open she was crowbarring it open with her efforts. The last time they’d seen each other, at new year, she’d drawn tarot cards and made a prediction. One which she was now pointing at Hogwarts for. Tim gave a weak smile and nod about it, and saw her turn to tell her fellow Hufflepuffs as soon as she could after Greyfriar finished, her pack of tarot cards spread in her hand.

“Who are we missing for sure then?” Tim asked his housemates, resuming his visual search of the long table. “Eirene…?”

Professor Duerr put on a brave face. In her time as a mother there had been more than one magical malady that had gone through children. This one seemed inconvenient, but a lot less scary than the events of just over a year before, which had taken over forty lives. She had woken from a nightmare revisiting it that very morning.

No, a brave face. Business as usual. The students needed normality and calm from the teachers, so they were confident and comfortable too. The merest whiff of panic in a bunch of teenagers and they’d have hysteria.

A quarantine wasn’t so bad in comparison. She only hoped she didn’t come down with it too. Poor cousin Ignan, bad enough being ill without being kept away from everyone. No, come to think of it… he might be enjoying it.

“You’re taking advantage,” Camille warned Knox in a low voice, “you normally reserve your digs for when he’s here to hear them.” Her lips slanted with a little humour, trying to lift her own spirits.

Lucinda sat quietly at her table as she looked about the murmuring hall, attempting to find out of the horde of students the few people she knew. Her foot continuously tapping on the stone floor. Its so noisy, too many people. You should run. Her thoughts screamed at her.

She, like any good person with work coming up that was very important. Had left the said work until the last minute. With no clue on what to do. She jotted down on a piece of parchment. "I couldn't think of anything, but maybe can speak." Then turned it into a small paper airplane and with a small muttering of. "wingardium leviosa" She lifted the note, with a swish of her wand shot the plane towards the Headmaster.

With a small hope that it hit its target, as her aim is...questionable. Its going to miss

Knox leaned over to hear Camile better when she started speaking to him.

“You’re taking advantage ... you normally reserve your digs for when he’s here to hear them.”

Pretending cluelessness, Knox kept his eyes over the room. "Digs, whatever do you mean? Our Professor Storm is an educator. Separation from his students must be agonizing. Least we could do is send a bit of comfort."

He didn't stop himself from a chuckle, happy to imagine the glitter, songs, and scratch-baked goods that would be erupting in the old man's sickbed. "Hurry his recovery, perhaps."

The Headmaster, normally a thoughtful wizard with a mind and eye on all the working parts of the school term, had quite forgotten about Lucinda Temple. The missing students, the accommodations for the ailing, paperwork issues with Greer Grant, and the rescheduling around Professor Storm's absence had all quite distracted him from the self-sufficient Lucinda Temple and their tenative notion that she somehow use dinner as a venue for Personal Truths. Thus he didn't notice when a a sharp-shooter with a watergun spell took down a paper aeroplane before it could land at the head table.

Instead the Headmaster took a bite of a spear of asparagus. "They're counting heads," he noted of Ravenclaw table.

"And furthermore ergo and so on, I should be grateful if you'll all be so industrious as to refrain from dripping blood everywhere upon inevitable splinchings during this term's Apparition training..."

Zeta Pepper seated at the back of the Hufflepuff table was doing her best Headmaster impression, puffing herself up, dropping her voice and using a dramatically rising and falling cadence. She stroked her 'beard'. All this in an effort to have as much fun as possible in front of as many people as possible so that everyone would know that she was not at all bothered by anything that had happened on the train!

Gentle man that he was, he was ripe for parody. He clearly enjoyed the sound of his voice and enjoyed being dramatic. Students were missing? Apparently? Any helpful information? Nope! Just a lot of words for not a lot said.

Zeta stood up a bit to get another glimpse of the Headmaster, then sat back down, lounged back, and mimicked his hand-waving.

Right sat at his appointed, and agreed upon through social Darwinism, seat at the head of the table.

Due to his urbane mannerisms he appeared to be listening. He had other more important preoccupations.

After Knox was done with his boring address, Rigel stood up on his chair and perused Ravenclaw’s table. He saw a familiar face.

He cuffed his hands around his mouth.

“Tim!”

He raised his hands upwards to the sky, palms out almost gesturing a miracle.

“Just wanted to let you know, I made it past the new moon,” he winked, bowed slowly and gracefully with his patented cocksure smile.

He looked towards the Hufflepuffs and saw a wandless Zeta. He wondered if he wanted to goad her or if that would just solidify her stance against him. He had to change that somehow. Whatever way it was, it was going to be long and painful.

“Tim!”

What?

Was that - Rigel Acrux? Rigel Acrux was shouting at him? Not just at him, shouting his name!

“Just wanted to let you know, I made it past the new moon.” He gave a proud bow, referring to the events of the tailors before Christmas.

“Sure you’re not a vampire, then?” Tim shot back, confident amongst his housemates. “Didn’t want to watch her nibble you off,” he added, the phrasing only going to draw attention to the conversation. “You only going to wear the hat at weekends?”

“Least we could do is send a bit of comfort.”

“Exactly, Headmaster.” Professor Honeysuckle agreed from elsewhere on the staff table. The Muggle Studies professor had such a sweet nature she saw good in everyone.

“Hurry his recovery perhaps.”
“If only to stop the comfort.” Camille agreed with amusement. Ignan hated fuss!

She turned her attention to the Ravenclaw table.
“Only to be expected,” Camille agreed, “there will be a number of empty beds in the tower tonight.” Lessons would be quieter than ever, though she suspected the rest of the students would make up for the missing with all their noise in the corridors.

“I only hope we keep more in the dormitories than the hospital wing this term. Be a disaster if we all came down with it. The house elves would have to start looking after Sylvain’s creatures!”

"Ah, Lillian, didn't see you there. Hullo!" Knox was happy to receive the artless support of the Muggle Studies professor. He could always count on her for that.

"Absit omen," Knox said and rapped his knuckles on the wooden table. "A catastrophic inconvenience that would be. Imagine. I don't think Professor Honeysuckle has enough desks to accommodate all of us begging her wisdom on getting on in the world free of magic."

For most of his life, Knox was never out of arm's reach of his wand. Nowadays, he opted not to bring it with him during werewolf transformations and it felt very odd indeed to sit with just a bathrobe and a book, like a little piece of him was missing. Truthfully, he dreaded catching this particular cold.

Then he added, "people do seem to be recovering, I hear. There's that at least, but who can know? Every time I get the hiccups I wonder if that will be my fate until the end. Forever suffering intermittent spasms of the diaphragm, disturbing any silence ... "

He trailed off actually. Rigel Acrux was standing on his chair.

Why was that boy standing on the seats? Aoide had always been raised to behave well, so the Slytherin table’s antics were often regarded with a wide eye. Didn’t their parents teach them manners. Didn’t they know actions had consequences.

As she watched, a slightly younger boy on the Ravenclaw table retaliated to a yell, presumably the older boy on his feet had directed it at him.

“Sure you’re … a vampire then? Didn’t want to watch her nibble you off…” Aoide was confused and a little disgusted. Boys! The problem was, in the usual high-spirited ways of the first feast back, Aoide hadn’t caught the most important word of context.

“That Slytherin’s a vampire!” She squeaked, thrusting a hand out to point at Rigel two tables away, too insignificant for the Slytherin seventh year to even notice or hear her, but enough for her Hufflepuff housemates to notice the sudden outburst.

Ayla had been quiet for most of the feast. Not because there was anything wrong, simply because she had nothing to say. Her holidays had been rather average. She spent all of the Winter Festival in Hogsmeade working (making a good amount of gold for it too) had done her usual family get togethers around Christmas time, having convinced Lexus that she needed to come for dinner more often. Then her last two weeks were spent in New York with Athena and her crazy room mates. There were definitely stories there but they were best saved for when her and the girls were back in their dorm room.

When Rigel shouted across the Great Hall, the petite Hufflepuff had looked toward him. She had no idea what him and Zeta's cousin were yelling about but the commotion had drawn her eye to the Slytherin table and she caught sight of Alistair. She looked him over, laughing with his mates and felt her stomach squirm. She quickly diverted his gaze before he noticed her looking. They had been successfully avoiding each other, both equally upset about what had happened over the summer. She didn't want to have him think she wanted to finally talk about it.

She was thankful then, for Aiode's sudden outburst. She had decided earlier in the year that she really liked these new first years. They were certainly an entertaining bunch. She couldn't help but laugh and chance a glance at the older Slytherin again. She had never really paid much attention to him before but she knew of him well enough.

"He's not a vampire. Not pale enough."

As usual and by design Rigel had started a commotion. He had caught Knox’s glance as well as Ayla, who admittedly was quite pretty. Something about dark honey brown hair and the most beautiful green eyes he has ever seen. He locked eyes with her as he read her lips.

”He’s not a vampire. Not pale enough.”

He held her gaze for more than a moment. In a trance he responded to Tim without breaking eye contact with Ayla. A cocksure smile formed on his face, filled with sangfroid imperturbability.

“Oh Tim, apparently I was a good enough meal for her to save and savour for later.”

Rigel gave an open mouthed smile to the beautiful girl he was indirectly coquetting with.

“TMI,” Tim wrinkled his nose, “I suppose I should be glad she didn’t, otherwise you’d be yelling it now.” He felt eyes on them from the staff table, and glanced up, noting the attention of at least Headmaster Greyfriar and the Professor Duerr who taught arithmancy.

“So Frank and Eirene missing, then?” He asked his housemates, resuming the conversation that had been so loudly interrupted by the Slytherin.