It had been a very long week.  Ever since the grand opening of the Wing the week before she had been running on high-test, but this Friday evening she allowed herself to relax a bit.  After all, her brother’s twins had their birthday coming up.  A visit to Gladrags and Zonko’s took care of that.  Billy would take care of the sweets.  He was becoming a Willy Wonka, as her sister-in-law would say.  The girls would hopefully like what she picked out.  Covadonga sent an owl to Callie after purchasing the Wizardwear, just in case.

About ten ‘til 7PM it began to mist and the visibility decreased.  At least the wind had died down.  Brushing her hair back and pulling up the hood of her robes, the witch turned around and grabbed the gifts which had been levitating behind her.  Taking out her wand she readied herself to Apparate home, but a creak of metal caught her attention. 

Looking up, Covadonga saw the sign for the Three Broomsticks swaying to and fro above her head.  She smiled blinking a few times as the water dripping from it fell on her nose.  Wriggling said facial feature and rubbing it with the back of her wand hand, she turned into the child-friendly pub.

Taking a booth—it seemed it would be easier there than at the bar with all her stuff—she asked one of the waitresses for a warm butterbeer, and with a sigh settled down into her seat after whipping off her cloak with a sigh.  Going through her bags she picked out one of the forest green tunic she had gotten for Adalita.  It would complement her complexion very well, she thought.  Well, both of their complexions… they were identical after all.  Well, it was more Adalita’s style, then.

A busy day indeed. While shopping for supplies in Hogsmeade, Dexter realized he was running low on sugar treats for some of the creatures in his direct care. Some of the animals preferred assorted meats, some wanted salted treats, others desired sugar as a snack in order to keep their coats shiny and their moods lifted. There were certain things he didn't have to do as a professor, but he chose to and out of pocket no less.

Finding the treats they required, he did a little personal shopping. Dexter's daughter Madeline was now in her fifth year at Hogwarts. As a Gryffindor alumnus he had hoped his own child would follow in his footsteps. However Maddie was always her own person, and he was not going to stifle that, not by a long shot. At least she wasn't a Ravenclaw like her mother whom he was still sore at for  leaving him all those years ago. With her as a Hufflepuff he could at least hold out hope that she was more him than her, though he would never mention the displeasure with her mother in front of her.

Dexter had hidden his pain for the most part from her view. Since she left, his former spouse made little attempt to contact the family she left behind. If she had tried he wouldn't have held Maddie back from making  a bond with the woman that helped bring her into this world. It seemed like she was well versed in her father's pain however seeing that she never brought up her mother if she didn't have to.

So as a treat for his daughter, Dexter picked up a bag of her favorite treat. Bertie Botts every flavor beans have been her favorite for years. Dexter knowing this had grabbed her a solid bag of them and made sure to pay for them and decided it was time for a bit of a nip before heading back to Hogwarts.

Slipping the package into his robe pocket the Gryffindor Head of House made his way  into the Three Broomsticks seeking something warm to knock out the cold that had taken residence in his bones. Dexter looked around for familiar faces. Generally there would be someone who knew him in the tavern, this was no different. In fact he saw a few of the usual patrons that he had come to know as friendly, he gave them a wave when a young woman caught his eye in a booth. Tilting his head he recognized her from somewhere, "The Prophet" he said aloud as he headed towards her his feet moving faster than his thoughts. "Excuse me ma'am I don't mean to be forward or rude, but I can't help but wonder are you oh bugger what's the name..." pausing he ran a hand through his thick dark hair, thinking... "Uh... Ms. Gertrudis from the Ministry?" That was it, he was sure of it. The last article she wrote on werewolves had been compelling to say the least.

Her steaming beverage was delivered right on the heels of a male voice.  Looking up she answered, “You are correct, sir,” and before she could ask him who he was her eyes narrowed, and her square jaw pushed itself to one side as her lips pursed.

“Do I not... know you from somewhere?”  Rubbing her chin, her forehead wrinkled in concentration, she wracked her brain for the answer.  Dragons popped into her head, dark green ones, and then there were centaurs.

Romania.

“Did you work in Eastern Europe, perchance?” she sipped her mug.  Her eyes shooting wide open she said, “Oh!  My manners!  Please take a seat, sir,” she gestured toward the empty side of the booth across from her.

“You are correct, sir,”

Snapping his fingers in an 'ah ha!' sort of motion he broke out in a self satisfied grin, "I knew it, I never forget a face even if it's in print." Dexter remembered thinking she was a young woman but rather attractive after reading the article and studying the words for a little while.  "I enjoyed your last article on werewolves," he stated honestly.

Taking the seat when offered he gave her a smile, "Why yes I did. For a bit I worked in Romania with Dragons, and then in Wales for some time. More recently I have continued my work with animals but on a smaller scale, educating the wee-ones at Hogwarts."

Giving her a small grin he realized his manners had now failed him, "You must excuse me, it's not often I have the pleasure of meeting someone who's work I enjoyed. My name is Dexter Pratt, umm you can call me Dex if you'd like," With that he held out one of his rather large hands in order to meet hers. His hand had the tell tale marks of a member of the animal caring class. Generally Dex had the luck of getting bit, stung, or burned on a regular basis.

"Not to pry, but will you be giving another round of articles for those of us who are your avid readers?" Dex never worked for the ministry but he tried to keep up on the current events and his daughter was recently telling him of her trouble with the displacement of a cherished housemate so he felt strongly on the matter.

“Ah!” she exclaimed, “I do remember you!”  Covadonga went on to explain, “I was at the Sanctuary a short time before I went to the Ministry while I was working in Africa, I was mostly there with the centaurs, though.”

Strongly grabbing onto his hand—hers a bit less rougher than his as she had the gift of not being struck so much as her comrades—she shook it, answering back, “And you may call me Covi, Mr. Dex,” her breeding slipping in regardless of the informality which they spoke to each other.

At the mention of her articles a touch of pink graced her cheeks, hiding them behind her mug for a moment, “Well, since the Opening,” speaking of the debut of the Werewolf Wing at the beginning of the month, “we may be seeing more articles from others.”  To tell the truth, a few had already taken that leap, their fear somewhat eased by her and Simon’s articles already published.

“If I recall you wrote a bit yourself, Dex. Will we see your pen at work again?”

Though he couldn't quite remember her from when he was in Romania, he remembered her work with the Ministry and that was good enough for him. Working on issues like she was granted her respect in his eyes that not many were lucky to achieve. The only person who ever got past his walls instantly was his daughter.

Remembering the day his bundle of joy was placed in his arms, Dex remembered no feeling before that or since that could compare. To be a father, that first time was the strongest sense of self worth he ever felt. Madeline from that moment on was the only person who mattered, and to this day she was the only person who garnered his love and respect from first meeting.

Ms. Gertrudis here had his interest, and respect for her views. How they would get along remained to be seen, but this was a good start.

"Very good, I look forward to it. Your work is unparalleled to the papers I have seen denouncing the subject. Really, it is not idle flattery either, it's not often you see that much passion in the thinking of someone fighting for justice on the part of werewolves. Imagine discussing such a controversial topic in a public forum, that is bravery if I have ever seen it." Dex relaxed a little and ordered up a warm butter beer of his own as he put down the bag of goodies for his creatures and daughter.

Now it was his own turn to blush, "Well ever since I took up my post at Hogwarts the desire to write has been somewhat diminished. Not being out in the field as much can numb the creative bone I fear. Though I do hope to get out more this summer and perhaps spend time with the Dragon Sanctuary if my daughter has an internship of her own." His ex-wife never spent time with Madeline, and he didn't want to leave her all alone.

Great Millicent Bagnold, was he trying to get her cheeks to burst into flames?  Thankfully none of the redness managed to reach the surface this time.  Taking another well-timed sip she answered, “I would not call it bravery, more like necessity than anything else,” her eyes followed him as he settled into his seat, “a necessity which should have been addressed far too long ago.”

Something caught the corner of her eye, and looking out the window adjacent to their booth she commented, “Ah, looks like the rain is letting up a bit.”  As much as she failed at the spells used in Defense Against the Dark Arts, her late brother Eduardo would be loathe, yet a touch proud, to admit to anyone that she was still very aware of any change in her surroundings as he was more keen to make fun of his littlest sister than compliment her. 

Then again, that came with the territory when you had to look out for being stalked by well camouflaged big cats in Kenya.  She was also quite stealthy too, which her brothers learned at an early age when she sprang traps on them as if they were wild beasts when they were young.

Her attention was drawn back to Professor Pratt when he mentioned offspring, “Oh!  So you have your own wee one, yes?  Does she seem very fond of dragons?”  It was one thing to encourage the interests of a child, but force them to take the same career path as their parents?  No, no, in her own short time on this earth she saw that happen too much, and it only ended in broken families and shattered dreams.

"A necessity which should have been addressed far too long ago.”

"True true, but it's a necessity that most feared to utter before this point due to the controversial nature of the topic.  How many people do you know, and I say this hoping I am not to bold in my assumptions, fight for rights of an affliction of which they do not have to suffer under themselves? I have read a time or two in muggle books about people who did such things, However I have to say in our society, today, it is a true rarity." Many were out to cover their own hides, and be damned the consequences others faced due to their cowardice. Dexter had seen this plenty when it came to people using animals and creatures to their dirty work.

There was a time when he was younger that Dexter had witnessed the Dark Lord do something similar. He entered Hogwarts completely unaware of the world that awaited him. When he did his research there were statements about a the Dark Lord using Giants to further his causes, humanity be damned, he wanted his pound of flesh and that was it. The man was a true monster, and even now Giants frightened him though he had little cause to show it. The thought of something with adequate mental capacity given the chance to crush the life out of others caused terror within him, Dragons were different they fought because they hated being restrained they were animals.

Werewolves fell under that category, creatures with brain function similar to the rest of society. That was due to the fact they were like the rest of society for the most part. Many didn't look to cause harm, it was just because society turned their back on them and their plight that they moved towards the darker fringes, well for the most part anyway.

When she made the comment about the rain he looked out, "Yes it does seem to be letting up a bit. Good, the walk back is muddy enough I will have them yelling at me for tracking mud back to my office again," he chuckled a little as he spoke. Dexter was notorious for leaving messes around the castle due to his line of work, it was common now. "Aye she is fifteen, and I fear this maybe the year where I have to beat the boys away from her with a broom. Scary how fast they grow up, it's a shame she her mother isn't around to see how brilliant she has become." The way he spoke the last sentence was somewhat veiled, it indicated the woman was gone however he could have meant she had passed into the great beyond which could have been a sob story he wouldn't mind relaying. Or maybe just maybe the woman who gave birth to his amazing daughter was nothing more than a two timing hussy who ran out on him with his best mate while he tried to put food on the table... Whichever of course.

Off the top of her head she could quickly name two, “Rolf Scamander and Luna Lovegood,” each had a heart of gold, “and I’m sure many of those in my employ who volunteered to be switched over to the Werewolf Wing who are not infected would fall under that description.”  Their numbers were swelling, and Covadonga felt almost invincible.  Alas, she did not really do the numbers yet as to how many people were dead-set against here.

Unlike Dexter she believed Werewolves were human through and through, so much so that she purposefully placed the Wing in the Being Division.  They were a population of people who suffered from a disease.  People.

As for tracking mud around, “Well, that is what magic is for, cleaning up after dirty ones like ourselves,” she winked and chuckled, nearly finishing off her butterbeer.  The Department Head had yet to see a Magizoologist in all her years who managed to stay clean all hours of the day.  If they were… then they were doing something wrong.  “Not entirely, of course,” she finished her statement, accounting for the fact that magic did have far more important uses.

As for her daughter, “Ha!  Well, I do have several old and broken brooms to lend if need be,” on second thought, “not to mention all the beasties I could send on them.  Send me an owl if you need any assistance,” she knew what it was like to be chased after by boys, but they soon quit all that nonsense when she sent all inhabitants of the Owlery after a lad who had tried to ask for her hand for the Yule Ball.  She sighed happily at the memory of it.

Now, on to the business of the mother, it ended with her expression changing wholly, her eyebrows scrunched up, her forehead wrinkled, and her lips formed a straight line.  The way he spoke of her wasn’t totally… grievous, but it was indeed still sad.  Did she detect some bitterness?  “I am… sorry to hear that…” but, how to proceed?  Might as well take a leap, “I am sure she would be proud to see how much her daughter has grown up under your care.”

Catching a waitress’s eye she asked for two butterbeers, thanking her when she returned.  The woman pushed one of them in front of the professor. 

The passion was no exaggeration. Granted he could say he felt the same in the way that he loved his animals, and believed that they should be greatly respected, Dexter still knew that some creatures were to be feared as much as they were to be cared about. A werewolf was not only to be respected but fear was not far from that line of respect.

If she felt they were people that was fine, he did too for the most part. It was around the time when they could rip his head off by sneezing that he thought of them as animals, otherwise he saw along the same vein as Covi in that regard. Dexter was a fan of werewolf rights, he felt there were very few of them who wanted to harm the rest of wizarding society, a very small amount.

“Well, that is what magic is for, cleaning up after dirty ones like ourselves,”

He started to laugh when she pointed it out, "Yes we do but you know how it goes, too easy to clean up far better to yell at the man tracking about the dirt. Apparently they think I should clean up after myself, whatever that is supposed to mean," he rolled his eyes as he said this still chuckling. Dexter knew full well that if it was his students he would want them to clean up after themselves. Maybe he should take his own advice and follow his footsteps with a simple cleaning spell, and maybe pixies will fly out of his wardrobe, neither seemed likely.

“Ha!  Well, I do have several old and broken brooms to lend if need be,”

Nodding he grimaced, "I have a feeling I will be calling on you sooner rather then later," as he spoke the butterbeer arrived and he felt a smile cross his lips. Pulling out some coins he tossed them on the servers tray, "Seems she has a couple male friends, the one I know personally but I feel like I pry too much as it is. Perhaps I should hire one of the younger years to keep tabs," he shook his head at the idea knowing it was far too outlandish. "She would kill me if I went that route, not completely discounting it, but I have a feeling she might very well hang me from a ring on the Quidditch Pitch." Maddie was a brilliant kid, however he knew better than to over step his authority because she housed a strong personality similar to his own. Harmony would not be had if he tried to control her social comings and goings, an act he never took part in previously.

When they started to talk of his ex wife his grimace came back with avengance, "I wish I could feel she would. Sadly she has little to do with Madeline's life, I can't force her to be a mum." It has been said that a woman is a mother at conception and a man feels like a father when he holds his child, and yet he found himself the stronger parent. Dexter was the one kissing her skinned knees, and teaching her sport. When it came to motherly things, Dexter was winging it for the most part, and even Madeline didn't hold it against him for the things he didn't understand. That first trip for female products had turned his stomach, but he still did what he had to because he was her only parent. There were a lot of things that made him feel ill over the lack of raising his ex was putting forth, though he could do little to change it like he could stop the rushing of the tides or the moon's lunar cycle.

"Enough about me though, tell me about the great protector of rights Gertrudis. I have to say the more I read your articles the more intrigued I am," he gave her a semi-sly smile as he took a long sip of the butter beer.

To beat off the boys she suggested, “Maybe one of my three-headed puppies or Shiloh Shepherd in case they started singing to the former while they run.  I can teach the latter to obey your commands, “it would be a touch difficult since he was just an adolescent, but it would not a be a problem if the situation was treated properly. 

Concerning using a student she shook her head vigorously, “Oh no, no, no… a beasty would be better than a student.  Number one: humans lie, number two: my Shepherd could make sure he would not be found out if commanded be a bit stealthy.

Hearing his wife was not deceased he exclaimed, “Ha! And took a sip of the new butterbeer she had given him on the other side so the spot where her lips touched would not be where his had been.  “She sounds like my mother, and a bit like my own father.”

Now, she had not told anyone one too much about her personal life, but she felt like she connect with the professor after he revealed some of his life to her.  “As I mentioned my parents were not much in the picture.  My mother was more concerned with her social life and my father staying away from her,” she snorted.  “Thankfully, I had three much older brothers, so they pretty much brought me up when I was not captured by my ‘Elders’ and taught to be a properly bred pureblood young lady,” she made fun of said breeding by crossing her ankles appropriately under the table, straightening her back and moving her elbows off of the table after placing an imaginary napkin in her lap whilst putting a half-amused look on her face.  After just a second she giggled and relaxed.

“When I was eight, a short while after most of my brothers had graduated, we made a pact to barely touch our trust fund monies and actually work for a living unlike our…” she grimaced, “relatives.”

“Your turn!” she said with a wide grin as she took a large glass of her mgaickedly warm mug.