Monday, the 2^nd of January, 2012
3:30 pm
The North Tower

"We haven't actually been using it," Knox Greyfriar explained as they navigated the substantial north tower, some levels below its flagship classroom. "Lacking a qualified instructor, we opted to leave a gap in the schedule rather than subject anyone to a substitute instructor's best attempts."

The Headmaster had been keen to greet the newest addition to the staff after exchanging all the correspondence and paperwork needed to properly recruit her. She had a reputation for being forthright (to put it kindly), had a global perspective on things, and was a Seer; yes, Isobel Stuart was a solid get for Hogwarts. Maybe in addition to a good knot of N.E.W.T.s, they'd get a prophecy or two.

The Headmaster had a reputation of his own. He was a bearish sort, over six foot, with a dark black beard and head of hair. His voice was usually the loudest in the room, when he wasn't mumbling something cryptic or waxing professorial to dozing students. Sometimes he was spared the compliment of 'forthright', but more often bombastic or inscrutable. His fans, and he had a fair few, found him jolly and passionate. But also, bombastic.

"I tell you this because your classroom might have bats."

The tower was the culmination of a brief tour of the castle. It was too cold for the grounds in Knox's estimation and he imagined Isobel had had travel enough and may want the the time to prepare for classes in the morning.

Isobel nodded briskly, glancing around her with a wry smile as she made her way up towards the classroom in which she had spent so much time over her Hogwarts years. "Very sensible. It's quite incredible how much work it takes to undo inadequate teaching." Far more than she cared to have to put in during her first few weeks, that was for certain; it took time to get on top of things in any case, and once additional problems began cropping up, trouble was on the way.

"Oh, I've dealt with more than bats in my time." Not that there hadn't been a couple of old ones on the staff at Beauxbatons, but she'd got on top of that in short order; there was no time for hidebound tradition these days. The tour of Hogwarts had been more than enough to reinforce that; it had not exactly been necessary so far as the buildings were concerned, considering the fact that they probably hadn't changed much since they'd first been built- which had been well before Isobel's attendance regardless of what her students might think- but it was interesting to get a grasp on what had changed. New faces in the corridors, new names on the doors. This was not the same school that she had come to as a student, and she was glad of it. Change was not only inevitable, it was necessary, and it was satisfying to see that Hogwarts was still maintaining its place leading the wizarding world.

"I have no doubt of that. And here we are."

The wand of the Headmaster gained him admittance to any corner of the castle and thus the narrow door into the narrow staircase up into the tower room leapt open at its touch. Climbing the tight stairs made Knox grateful of the spacious History lecture hall. Inside the Divination classroom, heavy curtains covered the tall windows, and with all the rugs and draperies, and mustiness, it gave the feeling of being trapped under a carpet.

With a sweep of his wand, Knox drew all the curtains back at once.

Sunlight streamed in and dust billowed up in clouds. Knox had to cover his coughs with his arm. There was indeed a fluttering and flicking in the rafters, but no creatures showed themselves for now. In the light of day, the neglect didn't seem so bad. There was the clutter of the previous instructor's lessons and a scattering of forgotten student items, but nothing had been ransacked or chewed apart.

"You are welcome to choose other accommodations," Knox offered, "but you strike me as a witch who'd be at home up here. It does have a particular vibe, I think."

He wiggled his fingers at the place.

Isobel was uncharacteristically silent as they ascended the steps into the Divination classroom, her mind taking her back somewhere around five decades into the past when she had climbed these stairs for the first time, hoping and expecting to find at their summit someone who could help her to understand the gift with which she had been struggling all her life. And she had found that and more; she'd found a subject that she had loved and had taken in in a way which she could not say that she had any other. A subject which had, as things transpired, gone on to change her life... Her own Divination professor had seemed quite an antique, but she realised that she herself was probably of an age or even older now. It was strange how time changed your perceptions.

Particularly so when it came to the classroom. Now, as the curtains sprang open, it looked tired and old. Here and there were features that she recognised, but the passage of half a century and she trembled to think how many different occupants had done much to change the place. Not beyond repair, thankfully, and she had quite clear ideas on what she intended to do with the room.

She gave the Headmaster a disapproving look. "My dear sir, if wiggling fingers and words like vibe and ambiance are going to form regular parts of our conversations, I fear that we shall not get on as well as we might. The room is perfectly serviceable, thank you." It was always a good idea to have a room somewhat removed from the main body of the castle; one tended to be interrupted less often.

There was a beat between them and then the Headmaster let out a booming laugh.

"I have no doubt that I will be a great disappointment to you, Professor," Knox said and not at all regretful about it. "But if frivolity is the greatest of my sins, I'll count our relationship among my most successful."

He began to move around the room a little. The space wasn't uncommonly small, but he still felt the need to stoop, what with all of the upholstering and dangly bits and bobs. Paper lanterns, why so many? He stuck his hands in his pockets and peeked over his shoulder at Professor Stuart. She was his age and tall and though she lacked any truly sharp corners, there was something edged and prickly about her. No, Professor Stuart was hardly the archetype of the ethereal oracle, one foot in reality the other blithely in the tea leaves.

"So, tell me, Stuart," he began again, conversationally. "What do you foresee the upcoming term to hold?"

A question like this asked of a Seer could come off as mocking, but Knox Greyfriar didn't mean it that way.

Isobel sniffed. "Paperwork and marking," she told him, giving the man a sharp look. Seeing was a gift, it was true, but like any gift, it was best used sparingly, and she had no intention of using it to See what she was quite sure would be a perfectly ordinary term. Besides, it wasn't as though it was the sort of thing that one just did on the way down for dinner; she never felt quite the same for hours afterwards, and with a day of teaching ahead of her tomorrow, she had no intention of spending the night wrestling with a Sight-induced migraine.

"I find that there are few things which are important enough to warrant foresight which do not intrude themselves upon my attention without invitation," she continued, drawing her own wand from her pocket and flicking it irritably in the direction of a hanging piece of drapery, which collapsed slowly into a pile of dust. "And for the time being, I suspect that I shall be preoccupied with sorting out the state of affairs up here. You do still have house elves, I suppose?" She was surprised at them; the Hogwarts elves that she had known would never have allowed any room, no matter how remote, to fall into such a state if there was a remote prospect of its being needed.

The Headmaster allowed the Divination professor her prerogative to leverage her predictive abilities where she found them most worthy. He endured the chastisement gamely - if he hadn't at least tried to solicit a bit of Seeing he'd have kicked himself later. Professor Stuart wasn't the first diviner or proper Seer in these halls, but it was possible she was the most accomplished since Trelawney and the great mistake everyone made back then was not asking Sybill Trelawney. It turned out, she'd predicted the whole nutty affair.

"Oh, they're here and about somewhere," Knox said of the house elves. "Well, they ought to be."

He shifted on his feet and scratched his jawline. "If I'm honest, I feel awkward asking anything of them. They're so bloody earnest don't you find? They make me feel as though I've earned an Order of Merlin just by requesting a bit of plumbing be done. Of course, normally, I don't have to. They're house elves."

He took a turn around. He'd made the connection between the state of the room and Stuart's inquiry and Knox found himself rapidly calculating the last time he'd actually seen a house elf at the castle.

"No, had to have been..." he thought out loud. "No, I'm sure they're still here. I can't have very well dismissed them."

Knox shrugged away the mental math, irritated at having to engage the topic. "If you'd like their help, I'm sure I can arrange it."

Isobel raised an eyebrow. "No, I'm quite sure you would have noticed," she agreed. "A few hundred students with nothing to eat are not easily ignored, after all." And she ought to know; she'd taught plenty of classes just before lunch, and it was not a pleasant experience by any means. Still, it was a source of amazement to her that anyone could forget about house elves- of course, they were very good at being self effacing, but even so, if they disappeared, it would definitely be noticeable. She'd give it a week before the whole place fell apart. No food, no cleaning... Isobel would admit that she wasn't sure if the house elves were responsible at all for maintenance, but it wouldn't at all surprise her; they seemed to do more or less everything else.

"I dare say I'll manage," she assured the man, brandishing her wand threateningly in the direction of a pile of debris, which collapsed slowly, exuding a cloud of dust. "It won't be the first time. But I trust you have no objection to my removing some of this rubbish altogether? Honestly, I haven't a clue how any competent Divination professor could have worked with such things whatever their state of repair..." The witch sighed. Of course, competent Divination professors were a rare thing these days; people saw it as a wishy-washy subject, and so they appointed wishy-washy professors in order to teach it.

"No, no, by all means," Knox replied and gestured about as if to indicate her dominion over all this.

With small talk and tours done with, the Headmaster had a few more items to discuss by way of new staff orientation. Better now than later as very shortly Isobel Stuart would have her hands full.

"You'll have quarters available to you here in the castle if you wish and those should be in ship shape." He'd seen to that himself.  "They're spacious enough. It's your option, of course. There are some like Ignan Storm who prefer a bit of distance and live off the grounds. That's the Deputy Headmaster and Defense instructor. Jolly chap."

Ignan Storm was the antithesis of jolly.

"Actually, I shouldn't set you up for that. He's as friendly as a cactus, but he's survived several recent Headmasters and first year Defense students, so he must be doing something right."

Knox wouldn't have drinks with the man, but there were few better suited for the post.

"Delightful," Isobel returned, somewhat shortly, as she flicked her wand to levitate a stack of mouldering textbooks off a chair so that she could lower herself into it, albeit with some hesitancy. The thing didn't look as though it would stand up to a great deal of strain, and although she would not categorise her weight as such, you could never be too careful. She made a vague gesture in the direction of another such piece of furniture- at least, she thought it was probably furniture, though it was somewhat difficult to tell- to indicate that the Headmaster should feel free to sit down as well if he so chose. This was his castle, after all.

"It might be best," she agreed, recalling the horrors of early morning commuting, especially since, as she recalled, Hogwarts did not allow direct Apparation into one's classroom. "The man sounds eminently sensible to me." Few would choose to live surrounded by the constant chatter of young voices; herself, Isobel thought she would be isolated from most of it up here in her tower. "No doubt I shall meet him in due course." Isobel had been described as prickly herself from time to time; she was not one to judge.

"Eminently sensible, yes." Ignan would like that very much Knox was sure, perhaps as part of a greeting card message for some no-fuss occasion or as his epitaph.

Knox continued pacing a slow arc around the room. He lifted a dark blue velvet covering from a basket of dark and smokey crystal balls. He tilted his head - had he seen a glint of some hazy future leftover from a fourth year or was it the reflection of a cloud?

"In the matter of procurement," he said, letting the velvet fall back home, "I'm your servant. Our greenhouses and potions stores are well-maintained, and for more esoteric equipment we can order in. If once you finish your excavation here you are lacking in anything, just ... "

The headmaster paused. A teacup had been left on the wide windowsill, clumps of dried tealeaves petrified at the bottom in a preserved message of some kind.

"Just let me know."

Isobel watched the man pacing around the room with a faint turn to her lips that signified disapproval; she couldn't stand casual interference with her equipment, but for once she chose to remain silent on the matter; the more she argued, she felt, the longer the man would stick around for, and though she didn't object particularly to him so far as people went, she wanted nothing more than to take a few decent Scouring Charms to the place, get rid of those godawful curtains, get everything generally cleaned up and sorted out... She could not abide things in such a state with hangovers of her predecessors in every corner; Isobel intended to do things her own way, and she would not stand for opposition.

"I shall," she agreed, following his gaze to the teacup on the windowsill and taking a few steps towards it, lifting it between slender fingers and tilting her head slightly to examine its contents. The witch sighed slightly. "Oh, dear. Not looking too bright for someone."

If there was one thing that Knox was always aware of and couldn't care less about, it was overstaying his welcome. Perhaps it was because he was accostommed to his status, perhaps it was because of the sheer inertia of his physicality and force of personality was difficult to budge. Either way, he paid no heed to Professor Stuart's cold regard. And then he found himself surprised.

He watched as Stuart took the abandoned teacup and proffer a dark evaluation. Knox lifted his eyebrows and leaning a little to look again.

"Oh, stars. What do you reckon, madam? Not an untimely death I hope - we've been working very hard to avoid those this year."

"Not every negative reading implies imminent death, Headmaster," Isobel pointed out reprovingly, barely repressing a roll of the eyes. That was the trouble with the melodramatic fools who tended to do most Divination teaching around the world; it created such a false impression of the art, and she could hardly blame those people who viewed the whole thing as the preserve of idiots and charlatans. Lack of finesse, that was the trouble, and a credulous attitude to the results presented to you by your readings. She set the teacup back in its place with a clink of the china against the stonework. "I should say that no one is in danger of more than a mild burn, judging from that cup. Of course, I dare say some would disagree with me, but then some would See anything so long as they could get a gasp out of it."

"But some do," Knox said raising a finger. He was teasing her now, not that he imagined it'd matter.

The more time Knox spent with Isobel Stuart in person, the more he imagined how particular students would find her. There would be surprises, Knox was sure. Perhaps Mairead ó Fearghail would ken on to the stern and practical Professor Stuart, perhaps the Professor would nurture the Divination practices of Mairead's people. But then again, she may not ever meet Mairead who rarely stayed where she didn't care to be. He searched his mind to recall if Lucinda Temple had expressed interest in Divination - that young woman had more questions about her future than anyone Knox had ever met, and that's because she had the most cause to wonder. The challenge might be found in Isobel Stuart's ability to field stupid questions.

And oh dear, Eta Pepper. What year was that little fortune-teller? There were, of course, many delightful students who could find mutual appreciation with a teacher like Stuart - or the teacher Knox had reason to imagine she was.

Time or tea leaves would tell.

"I shall endeavor to stopper any sudden intakes of breath," he said, still teasing. Truth be told, Knox had only the barest interest in the results of Divination and he'd argue robustly that the past (his topic, History) was of greater use than harbingers of stubbed toes.

"Have you anything for me, then, Professor Stuart? Any way that I can serve you other than leaving you to your peace?" This offer was presented genuinely.