2 Feb 2012
Afternoon sometime
History of Magic classroom

Zeta Pepper found Professor Greyfriar in the History of Magic classroom. She’d waded through the flow of first years heading out to their next class. She squeezed her arms to her body to reduce the risk of doling out concussions with her elbows.

She was here in an official capacity, which was the only capacity that she’d voluntarily approach a professor these days. Certainly she’d not seek them out for academic reasons, which would just be asking for scrutiny. No, she was here for SAWS, in particular to get his permission to invite a guest into the castle. Fauna had reminded her[1] that you couldn’t just have random people just showing up, not without the Headmaster’s say-so.

It wasn’t that Zeta disliked Professor Greyfriar. He was way nicer than he looked, and even if he was intimidating everyone knew he was a big softie. However he wasn’t exactly normal; he was notorious for overlong, indecipherable speeches that were more grim than the occasion suggestion. She just wasn’t sure how he was going to react to her asking a favor, not with SAWS tradition of causing trouble. And fires. And stabbings. And fights.

“Professor,” she said in greeting as she approached the dais. Erasors were wiping the chalkboard on their own, and the professor was flipping through a book at the podium.

“Pepper,” he replied looking over his glasses at the peppy, picante pupil.

She put on a sweet smile. “Nothing bad, so don’t look like that. It’s a little thing really.”

“Is it, then?” Professor Greyfriar replied and slid off his glasses to pay Zeta better attention.  How did he look? He stroked his beard.

“We’d like to bring in a guest speaker for SAWS. I spoke with Fauna Blake,” (Good job, Zeta, name-drop one of his favorite former students), “and she helped us find someone. Extremely qualified, from the Ministry, Fauna-approved.”

Zeta waved her hand in the air, painting a responsible picture, wiping away any doubt.

Knox leaned against the podium, cataloging who he might know that would fit that description. If it was Bagnold, he’d eat his hat. Adrestia Gamp, he wondered, Fauna Blake’s recent beloved. Perhaps Bruce Ballentyne, although Knox didn’t know if Fauna was acquainted with her. Bruce was before her time and above her head, rank-wise.

“And just who might this be, this qualified expert?” he asked.

“Bruce Ballentyne. She’s the head of the Werewolf Wing. And she’s a werewolf, just like y-” Zeta, stop. She puffed the air out of her cheeks, leaning into the awkward moment.

Knox let a long pause hang in the air just to keep Zeta on her toes before he let out a laugh.

“You can say it, Miss Pepper. It’s not a secret and I clearly make no effort to conceal it. I honestly couldn’t if I tried. Can you imagine? No, Miss Pepper,  I am a werewolf,” he said with a smile.

Zeta laughed nervously. “Uh-huh. Okay. So. Can … we …?”

“You know,” Knox began with a deep breath and Zeta melted knowing what was about to happen. He was going to make a speech. She looked around the classroom but there was no one to save her.

“I’m pleased to hear you’re taking this step. While I would have been pleased, well pleased, to have been invited into the role, I can see the merit of bringing in a personality from without our little world, someone uninvolved in the heirarchy of the school. To the point though, I have had some concern about how your society has navigated the complexity of an advocacy organization not led by a member of the group in concern.”

Zeta furrowed her brow. “But -”

But the professor wasn’t done.

“I am aware of your friendship with Lucinda Temple and I couldn’t be more appreciative of that outreach, not that I doubt its a mere favor. Far be it for me, however, to have any expectation that Miss Temple or Miss Grant, for that matter, shoulder the burden when they’ve already a great deal on their shoulders. The question is, has the club in its history done more good than harm. I’m not in a position to say. I can say, from personal experience that - oh, Miss Pepper, you look about to flee but are rooted by some invisible force,” he interrupted himself.

“I’m sorry,” he asked, “do you find me pontifical?”

Zeta narrowed her eyes. “Um, what?”

“Bloviating?”

Zeta winced.

“A gas bag?”

Zeta shook her head quickly. “No, sir - I just … have class? Got to study. Get those O’s.”

Knox straighted and nodded towards the door.

“Never mind. You have my blessing to invite Madam Ballentyne. You can go.”

Zeta turned around immediately but after a step she turned back.

“Thank you, professor.”

fin

1.	1 Feb 2012 - Shed Some Light