(5:42pm)

He didn't care what anyone else might say, this was karma.  Fully, unequivocally, no-questions-asked, karma.  And, a vicious, humiliating and horrifying dose of cosmic revenge.  There was no other explanation for the milky brown liquid dribbling down into the opened spine of the book and cascading down the page onto his suit and the floor.  With a vicious, vindictive glower at the offending coffee, he set the now mostly empty cup on the floor. 

He knew better.  All around - in every manner he knew better.  One didn't simply have uncovered cups of dark, staining liquid around open books.  Especially if the book in question was for sale at a bookstore when one had no intentions of buying it.  Especially if the book was some frivolous picture fairy tale book that, if circumstances required it, he would have been embarrassed to be caught buying.  Even more so - he wasn't supposed to be here.  He was expected at home in less than forty-five minutes for supper.  But, he thought he'd come into Flourish and Blotts to linger and procrastinate, to put off leaving the magical realm and returning to the Schlagenweit estate just a few minutes longer.

Why the picture book had caught his attention, he wasn't even quite sure.  He'd come into the book vendor in search of books that might talk about witches and wizards that rose to fame in the muggle world for wholly unmagical reasons.  Hidden witches and wizards.  Maybe it had been the shiny, golden griffin on spine or the stenciled flower that had caught his eye.  Then, maybe it had been the picture of the grinning little toad-faced elf on the front.  But, for whatever reason, he'd pulled the book out, flipped open the cover and had reached out to set his drink on the edge of the bookshelf to free his hands.

He wasn't supposed to be here and he was.  He wasn't supposed to be looking at this book and he had been.  He wasn't supposed to be having cups of hot coffee around open books that didn't belong to him but he'd had done just that.  It had been karma that had prevented the cup from sitting fully on the bookshelf edge and sent it tipping into the open book.

Color flooded Sasha's face savagely and he glanced around quickly.  At first glance, it seemed like nobody had noticed the travesty.  Quickly Sasha tugged a handkerchief out of his pocket and, in what now seemed a foolishly muggle attempt at damage control, began sopping up the spilled drink.  If he had had his wand (and could get away with just a tad of underage magic), the mess would have been gone before the cup had hit the floor.  But, as it was, the coffee was just seeping through the pages and dribbling down the front of Sasha's muggle suit. 

"Gott zei ... Zum Teufel," he was muttering to himself under his breath as he shoved the coffee-drenched handkerchief in the mostly empty cup.  There was still so much left to clean up. 

It wasn't like Marcus to enter a bookstore. He had never been much for reading, but Moira seemed to enjoy it. Marcus figured he'd give it a shot and get started with some good books. His aide Claudia seemed hellbent on doing anything she could to push along what Moira and Marcus have going for them. She placed a list of books in his hand, a group of must-reads, and told him to get shopping. Moira didn't know that he was pursuing this, and she wouldn't have to. Not yet.

The endless row of cracked spines gave Marcus a headache. The gold and silver embossed words blended together into some sort of shiny gibberish. Some had pictures too worn out to decipher whether it was a bird of some kind or something incredibly vulgar. Marcus closed his eyes tight, and re-opened them intent on concentrating. Thankfully there was a vague system involved with the order of the books, making it less tricky to find what he needed. Now all he needed to do was make sense of the gibberish.

The sound of panic could be heard around the corner, so Marcus took a peek as best he could without getting noticed. A particularly nasty coffee spill could be seen, with a rather nervous-looking young man as the culprit. Marcus watched the scene unfold, forgetting completely about the book list. There's an old saying that Marcus remembered. Something about the way you act when no one is around is how you truly are. Okay, Marcus half-remembered it.

Marcus had seen enough of the clumsy way he was attempting to make amends with the book he had just spilled on, so he decided to intervene. "Let me help you." Marcus gently took out his wand from it's hiding place underneath his suit jacket and tapped it on the tarnished book. The stain disappeared, as well as any evidence of the spill. Marcus sheathed his wand and sat down next to the boy. "Just between you and me, yeah?"

The next few seconds were spent examining the scene. It didn't need to be done, but it was one of the few ways Marcus was able to focus his thoughts. Marcus got ready to stand up and resume his book finding, but decided to find out why exactly this boy was so unfocused. It wasn't something he normally did, but his recent outside influences tended to alter his methods. "Forgive me for intruding, but what seems to be the problem? It's getting late and you're at a bookstore, which tells me you enjoy reading. The spilled coffee surprised you, but in a sense that you've never done it before, which tells me that it's something you would never do if you could help it. So, if you don't mind me asking, what's on your mind?"

His handkerchief was useless - there was still a brown mess in the book and he would have to find a way to remedy this situation in time to catch the 6:30 train back to Guildford.  There was nothing for it - he'd catch flack for having gotten his shirt so horribly stained but his alternatives were running out.  Sasha pushed up the sleeve of his jacket.  He was just about to resort to soaking up the spilled coffee with the cuff of his shirt when a voice spoke up. 

With a wave of relief, Sasha looked up at the source of the offer to help but froze as soon as he lay eyes on the man.  He read the Daily Prophet regularly enough - he knew exactly who the man in front of him was.  And, somewhere between looking up and opening his mouth to speak, someone had managed to wad up a nice big fat piece of cotton and shoved it in his mouth.

Karma was having a bloody field day with him.

"I'm ... I'm so sorry, sir," he said, quickly, shaking his head.  "I didn't mean ... I was ... It was an accident."  Sasha watched warily as the man drew out his wand but surprise registered in his face as he watched the man clear the mess in the book with a simple flick of his wand.  He watched the Minister of Magic take a seat next to him, offering to keep the incident quiet, surprise and confusion still shining in Sasha's face.  He nodded slightly.

Sasha dropped his gaze awkwardly to the book as the older man took a moment to regard him.  His face, which had previously achieved and impressive shade of red was darkening further and the color was sliding steadily up his head and to the tips of his ears.  He flipped the book closed and after giving the chubby-faced elf a last glance, slid the book away from him. 

When the Minister first spoke to him, Sasha had shrugged dismissively, the embarrassment still raging far to strongly for him to consider voicing any concerns to the fellow.  But, as the man's assessment of Sasha continued, the astuteness and correctness of it surprised Sasha.  He looked over at the man.  "I wasn't really ... No.  I don't usually spill coffee.  I wasn't paying attention.  I don't ... that wasn't the book I was looking for, of course.  But, it just caught my eye - I don't know why.  And, I just missed the shelf."

"Thank you," he offered, finally.  He remained quiet for a few breaths, initially content to leave the actual question posed unanswered.  How did he explain - without revealing more than he should - what he was thinking.  "I was thinking ... I've been trying to figure out if Franz Kafka was a wizard.  He's a muggle author so you may not know of him.  Or - rather - he wrote for muggles."  It was the simplified and basic answer.  And, probably left the door wide open for more questions.

The boy's face turned redder with every attempt at an explanation. Did he realize that he has nothing to fear? Marcus was no surgeon, there has been plenty of times where preciision has not been his best friend. The victims were always inanimate objects, and most of the time there was quite a bit bruising involved. The boy was no doubt embarrassed for being caught doing something completely out of character. That's what makes us human, Marcus thought to himself.

However, when he heard the boy's explanation for his out-of-character incident, he was perplexed. "Franz... Kafka?" Was Marcus thinking of early 20th century Jewish writers when he was the boy's age? Marcus thought long and hard on that, just to make sure that he had some basis of understanding. "Yeah, I'm familiar with some of his works, though I've never really read any of his works. The adapted ones, anyway. It's not like I can speak German."

"But Franz Kafka's origin," he continued, "is what has you so flustered?" Marcus searched back to his Muggle Studies class almost thirty years ago. The author had been mentioned because of how popular he had become after his death, and how his books could be interpreted any number of ways based on the vague way in which he wrote. Marcus couldn't remember anything mentioned about him being a wizard, something which probably won't help the boy sitting in front of him.

"I don't recall any mention of magical prowess as I think back on my schooling. That doesn't necessarily mean he wasn't though. If he was, illness definately took him while he was at his wizarding prime. Such a shame." Marcus couldn't help but think of all the close calls he has had. The tattoo over his heart is a constant reminder of just how closely he flirted with death. "My next question should be obvious, but I'm going to ask it anyway. Why are you so concerned about this man? Was he an old relative of yours?"

Marcus then realized he didn't have one crucial piece of information. "By the way, what is your name? Mine is Marcus," he said with a welcoming sort of smile.

Failure and mistakes were only signs of weakness.  And weakness was unforgivable.  Especially if the mistakes were driven by nothing more than careless emotions.  That would have been Gerhard's perspective on the folly with the cup of coffee.  And, despite Neely's brief attempt to reassure him that the Ministry wasn't about to show up and snap his wand while explaining he'd been expelled from Hogwarts, (of course, it had been Neely who had planted the idea in his head in the first place), Sasha still occasionally wondered what the ramifications would be for his standoff with Analiza Snark at the end of year feast.  So, when Sasha turned to find the Minister of Magic had watched him defile a book, he hadn't been immediately convinced he didn't have anything to fear. 

It was only the voice of reason that simpered in the back of his head: it was highly unlikely the Minister of Magic himself would stoop to the dirty task of snapping a student's wand himself that kept the brief wave of panic from fully maturing.  And, Sasha was, admittedly, relieved that he had the opportunity to discuss the thoughts that had been pounding in his head for several months now - even if it seemed strange the company he was discussing it in.  It was a little surreal, but he didn't usually have such opportunities.

He nodded his head to confirm it was Franz Kafka he was referring to.  "I speak German," he commented.  It seemed at the same time a logical point and wholly irrelevant.  At first, Sasha shook his head.  But, in very short succession, he shrugged his shoulders, nodded his head and shrugged again.  "No - it isn't his origins, necessarily.  Well, maybe.  I'm just ... I don't know,sir" he finally concluded.  It wasn't the man's origins - it was Sasha's thoughts about his origin.  And, trying to figure out how to discuss the author's literature with his step-father when all Sasha could think about was how much the story seemed to relate to his own place in life.  He really wanted to discuss the thoughts that had been clashing in his head but he didn't know how to without delving into so much.  And, surely, the Minister of Magic had more important matters at hand then Sasha's confused drivel.  "It's complicated," Sasha concluded. 

The Minister's answer was, frustratingly, inconclusive.  But, perhaps, there was no conclusion on the matter.  Sasha looked up, startled at the man's question before quickly shaking his head.  Was he related to Kafka?  In theory, he didn't know.  But it seemed quite unlikely.  "I ... well.  No.  I don't think so.  I don't know my father, so I suppose it's possible, but ..."  If his grandparents were to discover that not only had their daughter had an affair but with someone of such background ... well, Sasha was sure he'd want to be as far away from that conversation as he could be. 

"No ... it has more to do with ... well, my family likes me to keep up with muggle education, sir.  Not like muggle studies - like what muggles actually study."  It was a bent truth - as far as Sasha's mother and step-father knew, all Sasha was receiving was a muggle education.  "So, I offered to read one of his works - die Verwandlung ... um ... Metamorphosis in English, I think.  And, I couldn't help but wonder if - well, the main character turns into a bug.  I couldn't help wondering if that was somehow ... I don't know.  It's foolish but every time my family tries to talk to me about the book, I can't help but think about whether he's an animagus and his family kills the bug because they can't understand.  And, I don't know how to talk about it with my mother and step-father." 

"Yeah, I know who you are," Sasha admitted with an awkward smile.  "I read the Daily Prophet.  But, I'm ... Sasha, sir.  Sasha Schlagenweit." 

"Pleased to meet you Sasha," Marcus said, pondering the boy's thought of the book's details. "I've never read Metamorphosis, so I can't really discuss it with you in grand detail. However, I do know the kind of author he was. You might be right, about why the bug is killed. It's not uncommon for fear to lead to violence, but I know you already knew that."

"So am I to assume you believe a similar fate will occur for you, if you were to reveal your true form to them? It does raise many questions, but I don't think it's anything for you to worry about. As for your question, it could be as simple as you explaining it not from a Wizarding point of view, but from his point of view. By which I mean the author. He was a Czech, but the Czech considered him to be German. The Germans considered him to be a Jew. The Jewish... what did they see him as?" Marcus asked, not to seek an answer, but to merely pose the question.

"How did the author feel about his own transformation? How does that correlate with the change from man to insect? I believe that this is how you can pose the question to them, Sasha, and get the sort of answer you're looking for. As for addressing your own struggle... now that's a bit of a challenge, isn't it? While I don't know what it's like to have to hide a gift from Muggle parents, I can understand the pressure. My father pushed me to be something that I just didn't want to be. I rebelled against that forced ideal, but it took a lot of years and a lot of missed family reunions to get my point across."

Marcus could tell that Sasha was trying to say something. Whether it was finding the right words, or finding the right person to hear it, Sasha was having a difficult time. "What I'm trying to say is that you need to choose your time to do whatever it is you want to do, and choose it right. When that happens you need to have a plan, and you need to be unafraid of the consequences." Marcus leaned in a bit closer so he could speak a bit quieter. "Just make sure that when you do it, you're not an underage wizard. It'd be a shame if you got your wand taken and snapped in two because of an ill-advised decision."

He leaned back and spoke at normal volume. "Have you thought of any way you could speak to them about the schooling that they think you're getting?" Marcus understood the basics of it, he was that age once. Speaking with the young boy, and coming to understand his grief, made him feel like he was really reaching out to the community. Something he hasn't done in a while, unfortunately.

Though his thoughts were on an entirely different text (one that was nowhere near the dusty shelves of Flourish & Blotts) Sasha rested a finger on the cover of the children's book and slid it back towards him as he nodded his head.  He did know fear often led to intolerance and violence.  But, it was always easier to discuss such matters in theoretical terms about the fate of a fictional character. 

Startled, Sasha looked at the Minister.  "You know?" he asked, dropping his voice.  At first, he was surprised that the Minister of Magic would be bothered with such information.  It hadn't occurred to him that his circumstances would have extended beyond the castle walls.  Did Hogwarts have to get permission from the Ministry for the whole endeavor?  Since they'd had to perform a few memory charms on his family, in retrospect, they probably had to.  "Does all the Ministry know?" he asked, looking back down at the book. 

 Sasha shrugged vaguely.  "I don't think they'll kill me, if that's what you're asking."  At least, he seriously doubted it.  "Not literally, at least.  I don't really know.  I'm not eager to find out."  He wasn't really sure discussing Kafka's origins would go over better.  His step-father was willing to discuss Kafka despite his background.  Probably only because Kafka had never been that orthodox.  "Not a very good Jew," Sasha answered, shrugging slightly.  At least, that had been one of Gerhard's fleeting comments.

Sasha sighed, nodding his head out of politeness more than anything.  Chances were, they weren't looking for an honest, open discussion about the test - even if it avoided the topic of Sasha's own transformation.  "I know what they want me to say about the story," Sasha admitted.  "Being different only leads to trouble.  Nonconformity will be our downfall.  All that." 

Somehow, the Ministry already being privy to his carefully hidden secrets largely saved Sasha from the build up of panic and shame that often came with a pending confession.  In its absence, Sasha felt himself relieved to find some words of support and guidance.  "I don't think there are going to be any family reunions for me.  Once they find out ... I'll be on my own.  I'm pretty certain." 

Sasha's eyes flew open wide and he stared at Marcus.  Getting ... his wand snapped?  For what kind of ill-advised decision?  "I ... You mean, if they kick me out before I'm ... I'm of age, they'll take my wand?  But why?  I can make it on my own.  I mean, I can try.  I don't know how I'd pay for school but I'd find a way.  They wouldn't really have to take my wand, would they?" 

"I talk to them all the time about 'my school,'" Sasha said, air quotes around 'my school.'  "Most of it's made up.  Well ... not what I study.  I mean, I try to do some extra chemistry and geometry on the side during the year, but I don't think my family's impressed.  There's only so much I can do, though.  Right?"

When Sasha began backpedaling about getting his wand snapped, Marcus cringed on the inside. If he had realized the boy would take this advice that seriously, he would have decided to word it differently. At least, to try and find a way for him to not feel like he was in trouble. "No, that's not what I meant..." Marcus sighed. "What I was attempting to say was that you need to complete your wizarding education so that you won't have to worry about getting your wand confiscated. Hogwarts teaches control, among other things, and if you stay put then you'll learn all the tools you'll need to make it alone."

"In retrospect, I probably shouldn't have leaned in to speak. I think it gave you the wrong impression on what exactly I was trying to advise. You have my apologies. I would have thought the same thing if I were in your place." Marcus was trying to calm him down. If it was working, Sasha's face wasn't correctly telegraphing the effect.

"Now, I'm well aware that your parents had to be..." Marcus searched for the correct word to use in this instance, "modified, in order to allow you to attend the school of your choice. The ethics of such an action are questionable, but they have not been hurt in any way. Seeing as how you've been a student at Hogwarts for, four years now, I'm guessing? It's pretty clear your okay with what was done. So to them, you're leading a normal life. What I'm asking is what you have to talk to them about regarding the schooling they think you're doing."

It was at this point that Marcus was starting to question his reasoning behind being so focused on this boy's personal life. Why did Marcus care? On further thought, Marcus had come to the conclusion that Sasha reminded Marcus of himself in his younger years. It was a different time, and a different set of problems, but it was similar enough to reach out a charitable hand towards a sort of kindred spirit. That, and it was a thousand times easier sorting out someone else's problems than it is one's own.

At first, the Minister's reassurance only relaxed Sasha marginally.  Sasha wasn't typically one who suffered from paranoia (other than when it came to his family discovering his secret - or the reasons behind Slytherin girls gaining sudden interest in him - or getting his wand snapped) but having comments made about his wand being confiscated twice was prone to be considered an alarming trend in his book. 

Of course, Sasha had every intentions of keeping word of his situation away from his parents and, therefore, at Hogwarts.  The last thing he wanted was to muddy any waters with his family.  More so than they've already been muddied.  But, that was assuming he could control it all and, this past week had proven, that wasn't the case.  "I'm not planning on telling them," Sasha stated, just to make sure that he had no intentions of doing anything that would jeopardize his wand.  But, just to be on the safe side, he added, "I leave my wand and everything else at school over the summer.  I've never had my wand at my family's house.  So, I can't do anything ... that'd get it taken.  Right?" 

Sasha grew quiet, his mind churning through the myriad of thoughts in his head.  He flipped the cover of the kids book open and closed with his fingers, stalling as his mind worked through the thoughts.  The last week had left him so confused and unsure of things and, in the absence of anyone to talk to he'd been left to mull them over.  But, here was someone.  Someone who knew everything, even if Sasha was only now aware of it.  Someone he could, potentially, talk to.  If the person didn't have a myriad of things to do.  Like run a wizarding country.  But, the Minister of Magic was still sitting there, still talking to him and still listening. 

He pressed on.  "I don't need to talk to them about it at all.  But, what if they find out anyway?" he asked.  He shrugged his shoulders, scratching his forehead as he gazed blankly at a colorful illustration of a cornish pixie.  "What if, despite everything I've done, they still find out?  I ... I had a school friend come and visit me at one of my polo games.  She talked to my sister - in the end, it went alright, but already questions are coming."  It was a highly simplified account of the incident and whether it went 'alright' was open to interpretation.  While the presence of a certain girl (not to mention the resulting displays of affection) were as much a part of the confusion that hardly seemed worth burdening the Minister with.