Monday, September 1
7:17pm


The door to the staff room, flanked by two leering gargoyles, was ajar.  Inside, Figaro could see Professor Graham Bombay.  He'd followed him out of the Great Hall after dinner and had been trying to get his attention for the past ten minutes.

Figaro was now sitting cross-legged just on the entrance hall side of the threshhold, technically following the rules and the orders of the gargoyles to keep out.  His sneaker was jammed into the hinges of the heavy door so that it wouldn't slam shut.   It wasn't entirely clear why Figaro was dead set on using Professor Bombay as the subject of his cold reading.  But he head seen in the paper over the summer that Professor Bombay had been involved in the Runespoor attack in Diagon Ally and the chaos that followed that risked destroying Figaro's family's apothecary.  Fig had some idea that Professor Bombay liked him too - because Fig's dad was a successful apothecary.  It just seemed natural to get the Professor to be his subject.

Now, resorting to tactics at the furthest end of the obnoxious scale, Figaro put the tip of his wand to his throat, and whispered.  "I'll do it, sir.  I know this spell really well.  I'll do it.  Please let me in and let me do my Divination homework with you, or I swear I'll do it..."

Even from across the long, cozy staff room, Figaro knew that his whispered threat would carry.

Figaro actually was a fair hand at Sonorus.  It was banned in Hufflepuff, of course, and he'd been ordered to keep it out of Quidditch matches as well.  But he'd do it.

He was, very likely, worrying too much.  But, how could he not worry?  Headmistress Snark was, quite obviously and publicly, blaming him for the mishap.  And, the girl that had fallen - or been pushed in - ended up being a Ravenclaw.  Which, Sasha could only assume, wasn't helping matters.  If Professor Bombay blamed him, as well, he was, very likely, sunk.  All pun intended. 

Sasha's post-dinner excursion to the staff room had had two purposes: 1) to make sure it was only Headmistress Snark who felt the need to punish him, not Professor Bombay as well and 2) to try to get his Divination homework done.  It was true Sasha could have picked someone who was more of a stranger but he didn't exactly relish the idea that one of his classmates might do this cold read on him.  And, he wasn't interested in stumbling through a cold reading on a classmate, either.  It wasn't like he knew that much about Professor Bombay, after all. 

But, of course, the homework would have to wait until after Sasha had determined whether he had any sort of detention or punishment from Professor Bombay coming.  Divination homework was hard enough without sitting and worrying whether the person one was reading was the Spanish Inquisition biding their time. 

"If I'd, you know, known that girl was going to dump the other one in the lake, I'd ... I don't know.   I'd have sat in that boat.  But, I didn't know that usually happened.  I hadn't ... heard of it happening before.  I mean, who ... who in their right mind dumps people out of lakes in the dark?  I - I swear I wasn't shirking or - "

A whispered voice interrupted and Sasha quickly grew quiet.  He glanced towards the door, color pinching his cheeks slightly.  He'd already been publicly made an example of for this once, he wasn't thrilled with the idea of whatever was coming this time being public as well.  He was standing behind the opened door but through the crack between the door jam and the door proper, Sasha caught a glimpse of ... Sellaphix sitting on the floor in the hall?

He'd always seemed like a strange kid.  Very ... casual.  Slightly improper but not in the stab-you-in-the-back-kick-you-while-your-down Slytherinish way.  Just - odd.  The type of kid Jacoba usually tried to be around and the type of kid his stepfather would offer Sasha very loud criticisms of if he were to see him out in public.  Sasha hesitated, awkwardly, shifting the soles of his polished shoes against the floor. 

Until five minutes ago, the staffroom had been his private sanctuary.  It was a free space where he could heckle Aileen, make Prince Fraiser feel uncomfortable, and eat all the Bertie Bott's Beans he could ever desire.  It was a safe space for Graham.  Then the children found him.  He didn't mind Mr. Schlagenweit as much.  The young man was going to be an outstanding wizard one day, and Graham was quite proud of him.  After a moment of hesitation, he let the boy into the professors-only room.

It was the boy's first day as prefect and already he had been involved with all sorts of trouble.  Headmistress trouble, first year trouble--the first years were going to be a handful this year, he could feel it in his bones.  "I understand, Mr. Schlagenweit.  One of the first lessons of authority is that something somehow will always go wrong. I'll consider it learned provided you can attend future events on time," he answered, cutting off the rambling stutter of an apology. 

"How are your---" Mid-sentence Graham heard the whisper of a threat.  He turned to see Mr. Sellaphix in the doorway, wand at his throat.  Graham's eyes went wide and his index finger instantly raised to point at the boy in warning.  "Don't you do it," he warned the boy in a voice typically used against  dogs raising their legs to urinate on a prize shrub, "Don't you dare or I swear to Merlin's beard I'll send your mother a howler on the first day." A tension filled the air and Graham stood still not daring to move lest the hall be filled with Mr. Sellaphix's voice.  They had banned sonorus for a reason, namely him. 

He locked eyes with the boy for a moment, and knew that he would carry through with the threat.  After a moment's heavy silence, Graham sighed.  "Make it quick, I have things to do."  Graham settled further back into the dingy floral chair.  If it had to be done, so be it.  He only hoped it would be quick.  This too would pass.

Figaro's mouth dropped open in elation.  It had worked!  From his seated position, he rolled over in a backwards somersault to his feet and snatched up his things.  He'd been invited into the staffroom so the gargoyles let him pass.   Figaro dumped his books and things onto the big table and grinned at Sasha.

"Well, hello there, mate! You doing Grimlish's cold reading as well?  Figured I hardly ever get to talk to Professor Bombay here, he'd be a good candidate.  Dunno if I've even seen him come into my dad's shop - have ya, sir? I mean, being a Herbologist, reckon you'd come into an apothecary sooner or later."  Figaro rambled on as he dug out a length of parchment and a blunt, split quill to write with.

"Dad's been well busy, lately though.  Not busy, of course, to holler at me about making good marks this term in Herbology though," he said with mischievous chagrin. 

Sasha felt mildly better after his confession and apology.  At least Professor Bombay wasn't looking to add any punishments on top of Headmistress Snark.  He was half-tempted to ask how he could have been more 'on time' - he had dove into the water only a few seconds after he'd heard the girls splash overboard.  But, he kept the question to himself and simply nodded, accepting the advice.

The subject had turned to classes, which would prove a reasonable lead in to the other reason for Sasha's visit.  But, before he could get there, Professor Bombay's attention was shifted up to the Hufflepuff sitting in the doorway.  Sasha shifted, uncomfortably, looking down at his bag, embarrassed himself for his fellow student's behavior.  "You wouldn't actually do it, would you?"  Sasha mouthed from behind Professor Bombay at the Hufflepuff as he stepped into the staff room. 

"Hello."  Sasha glanced awkwardly from Figaro to Professor Bombay, shrugging.  "Well, I guess.  Yes."  He'd intended on being a bit more tactful in announcing his study intentions but now that the topic was breached, he nodded his head.  "You're dad's shop?  Your dad's an apothecary?"  Sasha asked, curiously. 

"I, yes, sir," Sasha offered, looking at Professor Bombay.  "We're supposed to - Professor Ophelia would like us to perform cold readings on someone we don't know too well.  I'd prefer not to, you know..." do it with another student..  "I know you're busy but, if you could spare a few minutes."  Figaro was already digging out his parchment but Sasha hesitated, waiting for his Head of House to agree.

The thunk of Figaro's books was met with a cutting glance.  Graham was not happy with this turn of events, but the sooner the boys were satisfied the sooner he could return to his snack.  By this time Graham had learned to pick his battles; he could afford this one if it meant getting to dock points from Hufflepuff later, preferably at a more crucial time.

The quiet of the room was broken by the boy's ramble, the second reason why Graham hated Figaro so much.  Everything about the boy was loud down to his very shoes.  And if Graham had to hear about his father's oh-so-successful shop one more time, he would scream.

"What do you need?" Graham cut in quickly, interrupting any further discussion of apothecaries and profit margins, "Palm, leaves, or do you have cards?" He paused a moment, terrified of where the reading could end up.  "And no love business," he snapped, "Just tell me if I'll die tomorrow, that's all."

Figaro didn't sit down, instead sort of leaned over the table and started writing his name and things on the top of his parchment.

"Nah, Professors, we don't use any of that yet.  First day, you know.  It's a cold reading so it's just us looking at you, mostly, then making guesses as near as I can tell.  Rubbish, but the easiest homework ever."

Now that his parchment was prepared, he turned and stared very pointedly as the Professor.  He squinted and cocked his head a little.  He squinted even harder.  Then began to mumbled a little as he started taking notes.

"Professor ... Bombay ... is ... rather ... old.  Prob..ab...ly...nearly...fifty.  He ... talks ... like... some... posh ... wireless ... announcer."

He went on to mumble and write about the Professor prominent nose, shaggy hair like the Beatles and that he was a Herbologist who liked dull things like plants. 

There were quite a few students who had more than a few choice words to offer in regards to Professor Bombay's low tolerance and the candor with which he expressed his displeasure with those that crossed that threshold.   Of course, most were careful about the company in which they made such comments.  Sasha usually preferred the transparency though - it made it easier to avoid. 

Unless it surfaced when Sasha still needed something from Professor Bombay. 

He shifted uneasily and muttered an apology as he hastened to tug a piece of parchment from his bag.  "I'll try and make this quick," he promised, quietly.  Divination wasn't necessarily a subject Sasha was prone to putting extra effort in, anyway.  And, he simply disliked this current assignment.

"Um ... no.  Nothing like that.  It's just..."  Sasha started, blushing slightly and flashing Figaro an incredulous expression as he began mumbling as he wrote.  He knew what his Head of House's perspective of divination was and ... starting out this exercise with 'Professor Bombay is nearly fifty' would only make it near humiliating. 

"We're supposed to pass judgment based on what we think we see."  At least, that seemed to be what the exercise was about.  "I'm sorry," he muttered another apology.  Body Language: earnest, uninhibited.  Age:  His face bloomed a scarlet crimson and he shook his head.  He skipped passed that, skimmed over 'clothing and hairstyle' and the color deepened in his face as he tried to pretend he didn't see the line titled 'sexual orientation.'  Gender: male.  At least that was straight forward. 

"Are there really that many wizards that are religious?"  Sasha asked, looking up from his page at both Figaro and Professor Bombay.  He really had no reason to think such but, for some reason, he'd always assumed religion was a muggle institution. 

It was similar to stepping on a garden rake.  Left out after a day's work, Graham knew he should have returned it to its proper place.  Set it back in line.  Instead, his laziness allowed it the privilege of laying in the sun a bit longer.  And now it rose up to smash him in the conk.

His face turned beet red at the mere implication of age.  He was among the youngest professors at Hogwarts! There were girls, many young girls, devoted to his personage! Fifty? It was outright.  He could feel the heat radiating from his features as the boy went on.  A mumbled apology from Sasha did nothing to abate his humiliation.

He dug his hands into his pockets, searching for a scrap of parchment and his wand.  If Sellaphix wanted to start a war of adjectives, by Merlin Graham would give every bit as he got.  Several already came to mind, though none to ever be uttered in the presence of authority. 

Religion? His mind switched gears with a vapid "Um," as he considered Schlagenweit's impromptu question.  With a glare at Sellaphix's parchment, full of Merlin only knew what other descriptions, Graham forced himself to answer the question.  "Plants are NOT dull!" he interjected, before returning to his thoughts.

"It depends on the wizard.  Magic can be a wild beast.  We still don't know everything about it. You wouldn't believe how many people refuse to believe in squibs," he continued, trying to tune out Sellaphix's commentary.  "Anytime something is unknown, there'll be half a dozen wizards trying to explain it, every one of 'em convinced they're right and you're wrong."  He paused for a moment, considering the question and his own role.  There were some days he hated being a professor.  "What do you believe?" he asked, more interested in Schlagenweit's answer than the other boy's.