Sept. 5th: 6pm

A large willow tree sat at the crux of a garden path.  To one side was the lake, abounding with gloomy empaths, nature enthusiasts and other rambunctious children.  To go along the other trail would eventually carry one out to a ramshackle hut.  Desiring neither location, Graham nestled between the roots at the foot of the tree.  It was peaceful.  He had finished weeding the flutterby bushes in Greenhouse One, fertilized the dandelions and watered the umbrella flowers.  A snapping orchid transplant from Malaysia would need to be checked again in an hour.  For now, though, it needed him out of its hair.  Sometimes he could be a touch too doting.

A leather journal was laid across his lap with Graham's left arm serving as a paperweight to keep it flat upon his knee. He would write a little, look up among the clouds and sigh, then write a little more.  It was half-personal diary and half-garden journal.  The page prior to his measurements of the orchid's growth was filled with barely legible, excited lines about his encounter with the delectable Quincy St. James and a steadfast refusal to write her married name. 

An ant crawled across his foot, attracting Graham's eyes.  "Hello, you," Graham spoke softly, holding out his index finger next to his toe for it to crawl upon instead. He slowly moved his finger up to his eyes, peering at the small creature at its own level.  The ant was too busy exploring this new territory to be bothered with a human.  Graham liked it that way.  There was a common bond, but each was able to do their own thing.  "What have you done today?" he asked it, attempting to discern the day-to-day activities of a common black ant.  Despite the rare show of friendliness, the ant refused to share his work and continued to ignore Graham.   

The one-sided staring contest continued with Graham occasionally rotating his finger so that the ant would stay on top.  "I've got a midden heap I'm sure you'd love to get your feelers on. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Mr. Ant," he half-cooed, as much as any emotionally-unavailable man could.  "Why don't you and I wait for the sun to set, then I can give you a tour."  Imagining a small head nod from the insect, Graham allowed himself to smile.  "Yes, I think that's a great idea, too."

The first week back had passed and in the dying days of summer, there were a few hours of sunlight left.  Sasha knew all too well that, in not too long, it would seem like days would end just as soon as they'd began.  With a full schedule of classes and the new addition of prefect duties not to mention his extra-curricular studies for the pure benefit of home, the week had been a busy one. 

History of Magic had finished precisely at four and, almost immediately, Sasha had traded his school robes for a more comfortable (though still quite wrinkle-free and fashionable) set of athletic sweats.  He would have the whole weekend to face the three essays, rune translation, arithmancy assignment and whatever other assignments that were left to his day planner to remember.  Sasha planned on spending what remaining hours of sunlight they had left on a long, slow jog around the grounds. 

Though school rules kept them restricted to the official grounds of the school, Sasha frequently longed to get out and explore the mountains and valleys that surrounded the school and lake.  But, especially now as a prefect, school rules had to trump personal desires and the school grounds would have to do. 

As he followed a path up from the lake, Sasha didn't notice the Herbology Professor and his Head of House sitting among the roots of a tree along the path.  He'd merely heard the voice - though quiet as it was, it was easily discernible in the quiet evening air.  On the opposite side of the tree, Sasha pulled to a stop and looked around trying to locate the source of the voice.  There didn't seem to be anyone in the vicinity.  Slowly, he turned in place, his breathing a little heavy from the jog.  More than likely, one of the school ghosts was nearby, near imperceptible in the bright evening light.  But, not wanting to appear rude seemed to outweigh the potential embarrassment of getting caught talking to oneself. 

"Um...allo," he returned, even more quietly, slightly unnerved by the feeling of talking to nothing.  "I ... well ..." Sasha hesitated, scowling in confusion.  Why were the ghosts inquiring after his day?  And ... Sasha didn't have feelers.  At least, not unless that was some new colloquial ghost term for hands.  It'd make sense, if Sasha thought too much on it.  Since, their hands didn't feel - perhaps they'd taken to calling living people's hands feeling hands.  He'd probably consider the same thing. 

But, then the voice offered a name for the one it was speaking to and the strange bits of information seemed to fall into place.  Slowly, feeling awkwardly like he was intruding on a strange, private conversation, Sasha glanced around the tree, looking down Professor Bombay and his guest.  He stared, blinking a few moments, his mind desperately searching for some comment or greeting or ... anything really that would be appropriate in such a situation.  What was the polite thing to say to one's Head of House when one barged in on a private conversation between the Professor and an insect? 

"Aren't all worker ants girls?" 

It was the only thought that came to mind.  And, almost immediately, Sasha regretted it.  "Sorry.  I was just out for a jog and ... well ... I -"  Heard voices?  So, stopped to eavesdrop on the conversation?  Color flushed his cheeks.  "I - should probably be getting up to ... dinner," Sasha finished awkwardly, lamely.

Classes were over for the day, and Zoey was ignoring his duties as a prefect currently. He had just finished writing a four page paper for Ancient Runes near the lake's rocks, to get the atmospheric aroma around him. Now, he was just going to take a walk up the dirt path, past the Herbology greenhouses to take a stop and walk through the flowers. He wanted to smell the aromas before settling into the dorms and being a strict, yet not prefect.

He started up the path, getting looks from some new first years. They didn't know him yet, or his fashion sense. Today, he wore a pair of silver-lined sunglasses, a purple tee-shirt with a silver vest over it, and on the bottom portion of his body, he wore yellow short-shorts with a purple trim. On his feet were his Japanese style sandals, which he wore with pride. Yes, he got glances from the younger crowd, seeing as everyone else knew his style and knew it was him.

As he got the gardens, he heard a voice speaking. On closer inspection, he saw Professor Bombay speaking to his finger, or well, something on his finger. A bug, maybe? Easing his way over, he stopped in front of the professor, and bent down to see the bug on his finger. It was an ant, and it looked rather perturbed by the professor. "Professor Bombay, I do say, the tiny thing seems unhappy with you. Maybe I should help?" Pulling out some chips from his bag, he handed a tiny bit to the ant, who gladly accepted it. As he did so, he noticed Sahsa Schlagenweit, another prefect, had reached there before him. "Oh, hi Sasha."

The intrusion of a student upon Graham's peaceful moment was an inevitable truth.  Graham's eyes snapped up, identifying the young lad who not only intruded, but dared to cast a judgmental comment about Graham's awkward moment.  He was typically regarded as one of the meanest, rudest professors on campus.  Graham treasured that reputation as it afforded him the greatest chance for serenity at the castle.  Fortunately for the boy, he was one of the few who Graham regarded with tolerance and did not immediately evoke a hateful memory.  Rather, Graham knew the boy to be going through some difficult situations of his own yet handling it rather well. 

Instead of his typical glare, hiss or arched eyebrow, Graham actually retorted with a conversational comment of his own.  "It more suited my purpose to project a male gender.  However I really don't believe the ant cares.  It does its job, regardless," he mused, turning his finger slightly, "And that is all that matters."

"How was your summer?" Graham inquired.  While most students would think it an opportunity to prattle on about summer flings, day camps or internships, and thus Graham rarely addressed the question, he knew Sasha faced other issues.  It seemed the garden path was more popular than he had thought as another student soon joined them. 

"Professor Bombay, I do say, the tiny thing seems unhappy with you. Maybe I should help?"

Before he could protest, Zooey gave the small ant a morsel of chip.  "Ah, Mr. McAdams, flamboyant as always.  And on what basis did you decide he was happy?" Graham inquired with a sarcastic curiosity tempered by the loveliness of the setting sun, "I believe we were both quite content." 

Stern, cold and distant educators had been, very much, the norm for Sasha growing up.  Self-controlled discipline had been the valued trait during his years in Catholic school before coming to Hogwarts.  Unlike many of his classmates, Sasha had accepted and taken Professor Bombay's demeanor very much in stride - it usually only prompted Sasha to try harder to avoid giving the professor any reason to be more angry or annoyed with him.  Such as being extra careful not to speak out of turn or to follow assignment guidelines to the letter and to not question the Professor's form of address when speaking with insects. 

Fully expecting a curt and dismissive comment from the Professor, Sasha had prepared himself to offer a humbling and thorough apology before slipping back up to the castle.  Surprised by the conversational nature of his response, Sasha hesitated and watched the professor a moment.  "Your purpose, sir?"  Sasha asked, hesitantly, fully aware this was more than likely none of his business.   "I ... but no sir.  I don't suspect the ant cares.  It's not like she's going -"  Sasha let the comment fade off mid sentence.  Somehow, verbally pondering how the ant's gender self-perceptions effected its role in ant society hardly seemed like it'd help him much.

Sasha knew that Professor Bombay was aware of his situation - as his Head of House, it was inevitable.  Sasha was sure the man who was conversing with the insect on his finger probably played an active role in helping Sasha maintain the illusion with his parents.  But, out of a mixture of fear and a certain amount of shame, over the years Sasha had spoken with few about it beyond Professor Greyfriar.  But, now, Sasha's primary advocate at the school had left and chances were slim Headmistress Snark would end up filling Professor Greyfriar's shoes. 

Having already accepted it was likely he'd have to be more open with his Head of House, Sasha nodded his head slightly at the Professor's inquiry.  "It was alright.  There were a few uncomfortable questions but I'm back here.  So I guess I answered them alright.  One of my classmates did come visit - it kind of complicated things but-"

Sasha grew quiet and he shifted awkwardly as one of the Slytherin prefects joined them.  Courtesy of the polo match she'd attended, Neely was the only student that was aware of his situation.  "Allo, Zoey," Sasha offered in return.   His eyes widened slightly as the older student addressed the professor, surprised and somewhat embarrassed by the other boy's forwardness.  "I ... I think Professor Bombay is as capable as any of us in keeping an ant content."  Even if he misidentified its gender.

Graham merely ignored the young man's fading speech.  He wasn't quite in the mood to argue gender perception, particularly among ants.  Graham needed some form of suitable male companionship while biding his time at Hogwarts and if it meant queering an ant, then so be it.  He was allowed a few eccentricities, particularly as one of the less odd of the teaching staff.  

For the second time that week, Graham's competence had been questioned, and for the second time, it had been defended.  It was a curious thing, and while he did not appreciate any doubts at all, Graham was pleased to find himself not absolutely disagreeable to the student body.  "Perhaps we should leave you to your own reflections, Mr. McAdams," Graham stated curtly as he stood up from his impromptu nest.  Wishing to excuse himself from McAdams' presence while keeping the company of young Mr. Schlagenweit, Graham nodded at the new prefect and continued down the path.

"Who was the visitor?" he asked casually, curious that the boy felt comfortable enough with both worlds to let them intermingle over the summer.  He was a touch proud that things were working out; muggles were a tricky business, it took a careful hand a more than a touch of finesse to keep them satisfied yet in the dark.  They were an arrogant bunch, and Graham felt the wizarding world was better off without them.  "Let me know if you need another letter for your parents.  I'm aware Knox periodically sent updates of your progress.  My German is more than a little rusty, but I'm certain we can arrange some suitable correspondence."

Initially, Sasha assumed Professor Graham was talking to both he and Zoey.  Standing next to the old prefect, Sasha nodded his head as the Herbology professor bid the Slytherin goodbye and turned to take his leave.  It wasn't until the Herbology Professor had nodded to him that he realized the "we should leave you" had included himself.  Offering the Slytherin and awkward, grin and a shrug, he nodded and hastened to catch up with the professor. 

"Um...it was Neely - or rather, Cornelia Woolfolk, sir."  Sasha offered as he fell into stride next to Professor Bombay.  He wasn't sure how, exactly, the Slytherin did in Herbology so he wasn't sure what the older fellow's impression was of her.  He grew quiet for a few steps.  Then, feeling the need to offer an explanation, Sasha added, "I was tutoring her in Muggle Studies last spring.  And, while we were going over muggle sports, I invited her to one of my polo matches.  I didn't really expect she'd come." 

"Oh, my parents speak English," Sasha offered though, belatedly, he understood what the professor was referring to.  Letters coming from a school in Switzerland were more likely to be written in German than English.  "Letters in German would impress my step-father, though Professor Greyfriar always wrote the letters in English.  I can always ... edit them, though.  But, they don't really expect that many letters.  It'd be nice if I could tell them about becoming prefect." 

"Um...it was Neely - or rather, Cornelia Woolfolk, sir."

"Her?" Her asked redundantly in a small bit of shock.  He wasn't aware either would voluntarily choose to spend time with the other.  She was, well her brother was an alright sort, but the little girl was too concerned with clothing and cleanliness for Graham to ever take her seriously as a student.  There was a reason she was no longer in his class, something he was sure they both were glad for.  Tulojow seemed to speak well of her, but Graham merely attributed it to feminine solidarity.  The professor was a woman, despite everything. 

That Sasha would tutor her was less surprising than that she would seek a tutor.  He attempted to discreetly look the boy over.  Sure, Graham could suppose how others might see Sasha as attractive.  The explanation certainly explained things.  The girl would be presumptuous enough to indulge such an invitation.  She did talk quite a bit, more than Graham preferred.  And talkers usually became visitors, and well it all snowballed into unagreeable hospitality that Graham preferred to stay away from.  "Yes, women can be like that, I suppose," Graham offered as a slight consolation. 

"Good, good," he echoed, glad to know he wouldn't have to dig up any German dictionaries.  "And you should," Graham continued, "It's something to be proud of."  It had been a privilege Graham was denied during his own school days; he often lived vicariously through his students, to his dismay.  "Well, let me know if you need anything," he huffed, glad not to have extra work but a touch disappointed at not being needed.  "How are your studies going?" He asked, changing the subject quickly. 

Was it really that shocking?  Sure - it still surprised Sasha fairly regularly that Neely Woolfolk was choosing to, voluntarily, be around him.  Even after he was no longer 'formally' tutoring her.  Sasha's face flushed slightly and he grinned, sheepishly, as he shrugged his shoulders.  Did he really need to confirm it?  "Well, yeah.  I know.  It surprises me, too," he felt the need to admit.  Just in case he needed to clarify he hadn't been expecting it, either.  It was, admittedly, he assumed, a good surprise, though. 

"Like that, sir?"  Sasha asked.  There was no accusation in his voice - simply curiosity.  This whole realm of understanding girls was relatively new and he, certainly, didn't talk to his stepfather about such things.  If Professor Bombay could offer some insight, Sasha would, certainly, look to soak it in. 

Sasha nodded - relieved to have Professor Bombay to come to for help.  Given the alternative.  "I - thank you, sir.  I don't suspect I'll be getting much help from Headmistress Snark.  She - doesn't seem to like me."  Really, Sasha knew he'd spoken out of turn at the end of the last year but, surely, the mistake had been understandable, right?  No one had known the woman was their new Headmistress.  As his school related to his parents, less was often more.  But, if Professor Bombay was really looking to help, "it'd be nice, you know, to be able to go to Hogsmeade on weekends.  I know I obviously can't ... get my parents to sign the slip.  But, I don't know if there's a way ... around it?" 

After a few more steps, Sasha shrugged.  "They're - you're - the professors are definitely pushing for OWLs.  And, you know," he assumed Professor Bombay knew, "I also continue with other muggle subjects - mostly physics and calculus and French.  So, it's busy.  Divination is still my challenge.  But, I know - I know we're supposed to decide what we want to study for NEWTs.  I just don't have a clue."  The notorious 'career discussion' that faced fifth years was, no doubt, one of the biggest stresses in Sasha's mind so far that year.

As much as he hated to admit it, Graham lived through his students.  Their successes were his, whether in the classroom, on the pitch, or even socially.  When Sasha admitted to his own surprise, Graham could sympathize.  He had been just as surprised when Niobe took a chance on him during their Hogwarts years.  It was a good surprise that ended poorly, but it happened just the same.  Except he had not been nearly as modest about it.

"Women are one of life's mysteries that even they can't solve," Graham replied, waxing poetic.  He had given up long ago and relegated them to those small, unanswerable questions that stuck like sand in uncomfortable places--like why cats couldn't behave like proper animals.  

"I don't believe Ms. Snark likes anyone, but that's not what a Headmaster is here for.  She's to keep the school running.  That was the problem with Greyfriar, he was too soft.  A good man," Graham added, doubling back on himself just in case, "But too soft."

As for the Hogsmeade question, Graham wasn't quite sure.  "Your magical heritage had to come from somewhere.  Do you have any other family that would understand? Although I imagine we could send a standard field trip form that would take care of everything," he added, not wanting to speak to Snark about the extenuating circumstances.  He was certain she had been briefed, but with all the chaos with the fire, Graham was loath to interrupt.  

"I still don't understand why you would take that nonsensical course.  Divination is for psychos and children with father-issues.  I know you have some difficulties with your muggle family, but I thought you still had a good family life despite it."  Graham had never held a high opinion for Divination, which was only reaffirmed by the various professors he had seen teaching the course.  It was a waste of time, in his opinion, and it saddened him to know that Sasha--practical, intelligent, perfect Sasha--was wasting away in that tower.  "If you like, I can always switch you into an extra herbology course.  Just say the word."  To have Sasha follow in his footsteps and succeed would justify everything he had worked toward.  "It all depends on what you plan to do after you graduate.  Are you going to waste your life away in Germany or go out and do something?  If the first, then by all means stay in Divination.  But otherwise, you should begin planning for the future.  That will decide your NEWTS, and everything else."

Professor Bombay's explanation of women was vague, poetic and - in terms of practical applications - useless.  But, partly for its lack of practicalities, it made perfect sense to Sasha.  More so than a straightforward explanation might have.  He could only imagine how complicated and mysterious it would be if they were actually, really, dating. 

Sasha refrained from commenting on the comparison between Professor Greyfriar and Headmistress Snark.  He could see how Professor Greyfriar had been 'softer' and more accepting of inappropriate behavior but, then, Sasha had never been a student who was prone to taking advantage of or even simply benefiting from that tendency to be soft.  "Yes, sir," he agreed, simply. 

Magical heritage?  Sasha looked up, surprised at the question and he watched Professor Bombay, curiously, a moment before shrugging his shoulders.  "I'm almost positive there are no others with magical abilities on my mother's side.  We have pretty regular family gatherings and there's, really, you know, no hesitation to ... discuss ... a family member's shortcomings.  If someone was - strange - like that, it would have been mentioned.  I don't really know who my father was and asking's not, really, approved of, either.  My sister's probably the only one that might understand but that's speculation.  I haven't, really, told her."  Neely had been encouraging him to do just that but it was quite easy to find reason to hesitate and put it off.

"An extra herbology course?"  Sasha glanced at Professor Bombay.  "There are extra courses?  That's possible?"  He hadn't realized there were courses beyond the basics.  It was simultaneously an exciting and unsettling discovery.  He wasn't sure if he, really, could manage with fewer hours of sleep a night.  He was already taken a full schedule of twelve Hogwarts classes in addition to the handful of muggle subjects her pursued on his own.  With quidditch practice and prefect duties on top of that - another class would be a challenge. 

Unless, like Professor Bombay was recommending, Sasha dropped one of his other classes.  "I wanted to try everything else, you know and it -"  He hesitated a moment, well aware that the answer to this question would, likely only affirm his reputation as an overachiever and a slightly obsessive one at that.  (In other words, a Ravenclaw).  "- it seemed strange to just not take one class.  Like having a carton with only eleven eggs in it?"  Color pinched his cheeks slightly and he shrugged, dismissively.  "Though, one thing I've been meaning to ask."  Sasha asked, not wanting to let his mind loose track of the thought.  "I know it's not customary but you know how I've got a full schedule.  And, I'm also doing these ... extra studies for home ... Now that I'm a prefect, I've got privileges past curfew but - I was wondering - is there any way to get permission to remain in the library after hours?  I try to avoid working on - you know - calculus in the common room since it might raise questions but that means I end up doing that first in the library and then Hogwarts stuff later.  It'd be - helpful."  And, it wasn't like he was likely to use it to get into the restricted section when no one was around.  He'd have to, frankly, be foolish to do that.

Sasha blinked taken aback slightly.  "Well - my parents are hoping I'll be going to a riding school in Austria.  It's kind of a big deal among muggles."  In the confusion of trying to figure out how Divination connected with returning to Germany, it was the first and most straight forward thing that came to mind.  Granted, there was the familial expectation that he returned to Germany but he was fairly certain his step-father hoped he'd return by other means.  "But, I presume by the time I finish here, they'll ... you know, know.  So, that plan will probably -"  His voice trailed off in the absence of a realistic way to end the sentence.  "I ... I don't really know what I want to do," Sasha admitted.  "I'm either here at Hogwarts or in the muggle world - I don't really, you know, know what there is, really." 

"Sorry to hear that," Graham replied somberly.  There wasn't much one could say about not knowing a father.  His own was no longer on the earth, but Graham never regretted that fact.  Absences such as those only created awkwardness, a void in which the other person tried to fill with social trifles only to make the hole larger.

"You'll tell her in your own time, or you won't at all.  Sometimes things are simple like that," Graham added.  It wasn't his place to decide for Sasha.  He was there as a mentor yes, but it was neither Graham's business nor his right.  "There's a universal order, karma, and other things.  But sometimes you just do what you want, whether that's nature's innate guiding hand or your own ego holding the reins."  He patted the boy on the shoulder, sure that Sasha would figure it out.  He had quite the rational mind.

"And of course you can take an extra course!  I can always use more willing, capable minds in the greenhouse.  The younger years are for basics, and the older years for focusing your skill.  And yours, could definitely lie in the field of herbology," he paused, suddenly aware of his obvious bias, "Of course if that's what you want.  Don't feel as if I'm pushing you into anything.  It's your decision, just as everything else is."  Backpedaling covered, Graham continued, pleased by the outcome of their discussion. 

"A carton with eleven eggs is divination.  That's why they have to depend on the planets and tea leaves to guide their thoughts--they're not all there in the head.  Cracked, you know."  The path began to fork again as Graham paused near the center, not quite sure where they were headed.

"I'll speak to the librarian.  There shouldn't be an issue at all."  It was some new guy that seemed darker than the usual Hogwarts sort.  It could be quite an interesting chat if the man had any substance to him.  Graham was almost looking forward to a dose of gloomy and cynical rather than the bright and shiny cheerfulness of Frasier and company.