Mairead had yet to grow bored with Hogwarts meals.  They were fantastic and Mairead had yet to determine whether, so far, meals or flying lessons were the highlight of her first few weeks of school.  It was probably a close call.  Fortunately, she wasn't required to decide between them.  Both were continuing to happen with considerable regularity. 

Towards the end of the day, Mairead had been studying...  Okay.  Mairead had been sitting out on the grounds with her dog, introducing any willing less-muggley-inclined classmates to a simple card game.  But, to her credit, her History of Magic lay open a short distance away and Eithne, the lurcher dog, had been busy licking at some dried gravy that had dribbled on the cover during lunch.  The book was close at hand.  Therefore, in theory, studying was also close at hand. 

An owl had settled down in the midst of the game (revealing her opponent's cards, making it rather easy for Mairead to decide which cards to ask for).  After freeing the bird from the letter on its leg, she acquired a full set of deuces before unfolding the message.  "But, I didn't do it!"  Had been the first words out of her mouth as she stared down at the hieroglyphic summons to Professor Gunnar's classroom.  The sketch of the ocean was a little confusing but she'd managed to garner the gist of the meaning despite it.

When she tromped into the potions classroom later that evening, a dinner roll tucked in her pocket and a piece of cake in one hand, Mairead was still convinced the nature of this meaning was bound to be punitive.  "I didn't do it," she said, before the dungeon door had even clicked shut behind her.  "She's lying."  Who she was seemed irrelevant.  But, at this point, there were probably more girls that wanted to get her in trouble than boys.  So, it seemed a safe assumption. 

When the girl flew into his classroom like the wind of a tornado all the professor do was sit and blink a few times before stuttering, “I… umm… I didn’t know you had done something…” wiggling his glove-clad finger with a silly grin and similarly wiggling eyebrows he asked, “diiiddd you do something, missy?  Hmm?” in a way which would procure laughter more than embarrassment.

Taking a large chocolate scone out from one of the drawers in his lab table he beckoned the young lady to sit in the chair next to him.  Unless there were several kids he was seeing he never had them sit before him.  “Unless you’d rather tell me a story, I, quite frankly, don’t give a damn,” he said in his best Clark Gable voice.

Biting a large chunk out of the scone, he added after swallowing, “You know never to eat during Potions class, yes?  Do as I say, not as I do, ho HO!”  He quickly shrugged his shoulders, “but I’m not working on anything now, and when your desk is clear you can eat too,” he waved his arm over the empty table with a flourish.  Putting a finger to his lips he whispered, “Shhh… don’t tell anyone!”

“But now… down to business!”  Reaching into the second drawer to the left (one over from where he got the scone) the jolly fellow took out a bit of parchment rife with red ink.  More red ink than black, actually.  Taking off his purple gloves he pointed at the paper, “What’s going on here?”  It was one of Mai’s assignments, and the issue of her writing needed to be addressed.

Mairead blinked several times as she stood in the still open doorway, watching the potions professor withdraw the chocolate scone from his desk.  The piece of cake still clutched in her own hand was a clear indicator that the young Gryffindor had, momentarily forgotten the rule about the no food in the classroom rule.  Or just as likely, she hadn't been paying attention when the silly rule was explained.  Either way, Mairead hastened to wolf down the rest of the piece before it could be confiscated.

Her mouth was, conveniently, full when it was time to consider the question of if she had done anything.  And, it had all the makings of a trick question.  Surely,  he knew she'd been banned from the greenhouses - so that didn't need saying.  Or her skipping classes.  And if he didn't know, she wasn't about to offer such information.  But, chewing the piece of cake slowed her reaction down just enough for her to register the less than serious grin and tone that came with the question.  Well - if he wasn't taking the question seriously - "I done lots of things," she confessed with a shy grin.

"Ye probably already know the story 'bout the fire."

Mairead watched the professor withdraw the parchment and took a few steps towards the desk.  The abundance of red ink didn't surprise her - they were the bane of every single piece of homework she received.  The first couple times she'd done her homework, she'd felt an immense satisfaction that she - she'd completed homework.  But, then they'd come back - so covered in the teachers' red scrawl her own work was lost in the red seas.  And much of their curved, scrawled handwriting was near illegible. 

One shoulder twitched upward in what was intended to be an apathetic so what shrug.  But the splotchy red that covered her cheeks and the great diligence with which she avoided looking in the direction of the professor or the paper showed a different story.  "I donno," she muttered tersely, her defenses rising quickly.  "Got a few wrong.  Se what?"