Saturday
November 8
10:23pm

The Transfigurations classroom was pitch black.  Professor Ramsay had left the heavy, tasselled curtains drawn.  It was an old castle and the curtains served a dual purpose of keeping in darkness and keeping in heat.  So the castle was shuttered up against the fresh winter bite.  And so Figaro was working in absolute ink-black darkness.

The Hufflepuff fifth year was crouched up at Prof Ramsay's desk.  He had a rusty screwdriver and was trying to pry open the bottom-most drawer.  Devlin Matthews had told him that's where she was keeping her plans for their upcoming practical examination.  If the fifth years knew ahead of time what transfigurations would be on the practical, they'd have time to rehearse them before hand and gain a valuable advantage.  Valuable enough that they'd pay for that advantage, Devlin told him.  It was all the impressionable Figaro Sellaphix needed.  Despite being constantly mistreated by the older Ravenclaw, Figaro still needed his esteem and would act out in uncharacteristic ways to get it. 

Since he needed both hands to work at the drawer, he couldn't hold his wand to sustain a good Lumos.  And switching between getting a look and poking at the drawer wasn't working.  Finally he decided he'd have to find another light source.  He stood up, wand lit to see what he could find.  Aha!  There, in the tall standing candelabra was the answer. 

Now, working with a lit stump of a wax candle, he could use both wand and screwdriver to work at the desk.  He worked and pried.  He used Alohomora as many times as he could to figure out she'd done a better job of locking her desk than locking her door.  But he was making no headway at all. 

He couldn't go back empty handed, however.  The information was valuable to him as well.  He was nearly Trolling out of Transfig this year so he needed the boost in his grades as much as anyone else.  So weighed out the risk vs the reward and decided to do something desperately silly.

He stood up and away from the drawer and leveled his wand on the drawer.  He knew he had to cast the spell as weakly as possible or he'd blow up the entire desk.  "Reducto."

The drawer and the two above it suddenly and noisily cracked and splintered.  A brass handle fell off onto the rug with a dull thud.  "Shhh!" he hushed, hoping the mangled desk would obey.  He nearly dove into it and began rumaging through the loose and broken bottom drawer Professor Ramsay's exam plans.

One he did find them, it'd be a quick Reparo (Figaro was actually doing alright in Charms) and he could be on his way.

Lately she had been so absent minded.  The book Morrigan needed to finish updating her lesson plans for the next week sitting on her desk in the classroom, not on the one in her private chambers where she would have liked it to be.  So, she made her way through the halls to retrieve it leaving two oversized mutts curled up in front of her fireplace, and one dark haired professor sitting on the couch she would much rather be on at that moment.

As she approached the classroom she stopped outside, seeing a dim light coming from underneath the doorway.  She had been quiet meticulous in extinguishing all of the candles when she last left the room, of that much she was sure.  Pulling her wand from the pocket of her sweater, ready for anything.  Reaching out slowly, she was surprised to find the door unlocked…she would have to be a bit more careful in the future to ensure a simple Alohomora wasn’t all that was needed to get inside.

Door open, she wasn’t entirely surprised to see it was Figaro Sellaphix inside rummaging through a broken bottom drawer.  Her eyes narrowed and she fought the urge to turn him into any number of animals.  Crossing her arms over her chest, she straightened herself to her full height, eyebrow quirked in an expression that was anything but friendly.

“Mr. Sellaphix,” she said, not crossing the room just yet, “might I enquire as to what it is you think you’re doing in my desk?  And please, tell me why I shouldn’t fail you for the year simply because you clearly are trying to take the easy way out of studying for my tests?”

Almost as soon as he got the drawer off and had begun picking through Professor Ramsay's files and folders and neatly tied scrolls of parchments, the door knob turned and light flooded in.  Figaro was washed over in the dim night lighting and for a moment the same question passed Figaro's mind as did Professor Ramsay's: She's going to turn me into something unnatural, isn't she?

His face fell for a moment, but in his normal defense mechanism, he grinned really big and scampered to his feet and getting on the other side of the desk, as if furniture might block scolding and detention spells.

"It's for a friend!" he half-lied, "and I'll fix the drawer - it isn't that bad.  I didn't see anyting, so no harm no foul, yea? I'm really sorry - I'll get back to commonroom."

He didn't want to directly answer her question about failing.  He figured he'd be Trolling out without her help anyway.  And while he wasn't mad about making horrible grades, and embarassing his dad - Transfiguration wasn't something he was going to use anyway.  He was going to be an apothecary like his dad.  Or so he'd been told a thousand times. 

Figaro did figure he'd not talk his way out of this one.  Professor Ramsay seemed to have a very strong b.s. filter.

Not for a moment was she going to let him off that easily.  While she planned to not blur the boundaries of what might be acceptable as punishment, she would take great pleasure in making him think she might for a moment or two.  Sometimes a little fear went a long way.  Although she would have to tread carefully considering she wasn't entirely sure where she stood yet with the new Headmistress.

"Stop," she said, point to the first empty seat near the desk.  "I would recommend you sit or I will assign permanent detention until the end of the school year."

Moving to the front of the room, she took a moment to survey the desk.  It wasn't a terribly difficult fix, but it would be a tedious way to spend her Saturday.  Apparently the return to her chambers would not be as quick as she hoped, and part of her silently prayed that Kendall wouldn't get curious and come looking for her.  The rumors were already running wild among the students, and she would have liked to keep some semblance of privacy.

"So, would you care to tell me why you're really breaking into my desk?" she asked, leaning on the lecture podium as she studied him for a moment, keeping her tone stern.  "If it's really for a friend, why isn't that person here helping you?"

Figaro immediately complied with swift obedience and sat in the desk as he was told.  While no teenage boy wished to be named a suck up, Figaro had learned from his many brushes with the law that going quietly offered the best opportunities for living to see another day.  Through human eyes.  He still couldn't quite sort out what Professor Ramsay had planned.  She wasn't shouting.  Professor Reid shouted.  Madam Hooch and Professor Greyfriar had shouted.  His dad was always shouting.  Professor Woolfolk also shouted.  But damn it, what was he supposed to do with Professors who asked him questions and actually wanted answers?  Usually he filled the silences with excuses and appropriate expressions of remorse of defiance - whichever the situation called for.  But actually being expected to explain himself for grand larceny?  He was a bit stuck.

The way Professor Ramsay was staring down at him from the podium, and Figaro down on the floor in a students' desk  made him feel like he was before the Wizengamot, being judged by two hundred eyes.

He opened his mouth to speak, looking around the room.  But there wasn't anyone there.  Just Professor Ramsay.  "Um...."

For some reason, known only to adolescents, the disapproval of a peer (namely Devlin Matthews) was far more painful and life-ending than permanent transfiguration into an armadillo or a year of detention.  If he ratted out Devlin Matthews his life at Hogwarts was over.

"It's for me," he finally said, "I'm going to troll this class if I don't pass the practical, so I wanted to see the transfigurations before hand and have a go at practicing them."

Not a complete lie.

"Look, I'll take the detention and the fail on the exam," he pleaded, trying to speed things along.  "I'll fix the desk as well, no problem.  Owl my mum, whatever."

His litany of suggested punishments were all preferable to linking himself to Devlin.

In her experience yelling didn’t every really help matters.  Even she lost her temper with students, but never had that gotten her to the root of the problem.  Every choice was caused by a multitude of factors.  To make a student really think about what they did seemed to generally bring about more results then pontificating loudly on all the reasons they were wrong.

The answer and acceptance of the punishment was far too simple, and she quirked an eyebrow as he tried to get things over with as quickly as possible.  It was true he was dangerously close to receiving a dreaded troll, but what student willingly suggested a teacher should report bad behavior to a parent?

“I have office hours for those in need of extra help,” she told him.  “At any point you could have stopped by, but that hasn’t been the case.  Contrary to popular belief I don’t enjoy issuing trolls.”

She looked over at her desk again for a moment, shaking her head slightly at the sight.  She wasn’t about to let him off as easily as he hoped, but it was probably going to take more time to figure out if this was simply over his grade or if there really was someone else involved.  If the latter was the case she would have to tread a little more carefully.

“This is quite a serious offence,” she said, looking back at him.  “You should know by now I don’t give students the easy out either.  I try to be fair and upfront with all of my students though, and I do expect the same in return.”

Figaro sank down into the chair.  Professor Ramsay was holding him there with her authoritative presence, her stern look that made him feel like all his lies were face up on the table, plain to see.  Almost was making him feel bad about trying to cheat.  Almost.  Figaro still didn't understand why grades were such a fuss.  He worked hard in the subjects that were fun, that his dad had told him to do well in (or else).

But the Professor was right.  Breaking into a teacher's desk in order to cheat was a big deal.  He was going to lose a score of points.  And maybe even get sent to the Headmistress.  Who was a hardass by every description yet.

He squirmed and wouldn't meet her eyes when she began to guilt him about being 'up front' and expecting the same from her students.  His arms were crossed over his chest, which was rising and falling as he tried to keep his breathing level.

She wasn't going to let him leave until she got him to admit more than the stealing.  How to survive Ramsay and Matthews all at once?

He sighed heavily again after a long pause. 

"I, um," he started, his brows furrowed in thought.  "I - okay, what if some one put me up to it.  Not saying that happened, just saying, what if I was doing it as a favor.  I wouldn't be able to just, y'know, tell you."

He hoped she was getting the picture.

"I'm not a rat, alright? So if, hypothetically, someone else was involved, you know I can't say, right? Fair's fair.  Rather be the fall guy than a squealer.  Not saying that's what's going on, but if it was the story, I couldn't really tell you.  You caught me, so yea, no argument there.  I'll take the punishment.  Red handed, and all that.  Whatever.  But you've just got me and I can't be the guy to tell on any other ... hypothetical persons. "

He didn't know what Professor Ramsay had been like as a teenager.  Probably how he pictured all of his professors: bookwormy Ravenclaw who all loved homework.  But she had to know how things worked, right? She had to remember how it went and that there were rules of engagment.

If it wasn’t for the fact that a smirk would have broken the sternness of the expression on her face she would have done so.  It always amazed her how the right questions mixed with the right tone could quickly gain her all the answers she wanted.  In doing the unexpected and not yelling it seemed she usually managed to gather information relatively quickly.  Of course at the same time his ‘hypothetical’ scenario also surprised her, and it took her a moment to figure out the next step.

“I’m going to tell you a story, Mr. Sellaphix, and I’m trusting that this will remain strictly between us,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument on the second part.  “During my fourth year I took the heat for something a supposed friend put me up to.  I had the rival in school and it seemed no matter how hard I tried to best this person in potions, I couldn’t manage to do it.  One day this person embarrassed my best friend and she dared me to break into the potions lab and use this spell we had found the change my rival’s test answers.  The professor always kept our tests locked up there.”

Of course the rival had been Kendall, but she wasn’t about to add more fuel to the already spreading wildfire of gossip by admitting to that.  Potions and charms were her two weakest subject areas, and much to her disappointment in her teen years.

“At first I refused, and of course she kept at it, pushing in all the normal ways students your age tend to do.  The one thing I detest more the anything is someone implying I’m either not smart enough to do something or not brave enough.  She knew that, and she used that along with a threat of ending our friendship, so there I was standing in the middle of the potions lab trying to make my escape when the lights came on,” she told him.

It certainly wasn’t her proudest moment, and it was the only time she ever done something so stupid and immature.  If one looked at her student records though it was there, the one embarrassment listed for anyone who might check up on her academically.  In hindsight she knew she should have flat out refused to even consider doing it.

“I did two things that I have never done since,” she continued.  “I lied and said I was changing my own answers on the test and I took the heat even though I wasn’t the only one needing to be punished.  My rival failed that test, and that person I considered my friend got away with thinking she could bully others into doing what she wanted without any consequences.  I did them both a huge disservice.”

She sighed slightly saying, “We all make mistakes, it’s how one really learns the things we can’t get out of some text or a lecture.  If there someone else involved, hypothetically speaking of course, you are doing that person the same disservice.  They’re never going to learn that bullying someone else isn’t the answer if the behavior isn’t corrected.”

She didn’t expect a name really, but she was still going to try.

When Ramsay told him she'd be telling him a story, he rolled his eyes and prepared to be here for awhile, ready for some fictitious fable about how she understood what he was going through.  And as she begun, his skepticism was apparent.

But as she moved on with her story, which was apparently about herself, he couldn't help but note the disappointment in her voice.  Disappointment in herself.  And before long, Figaro forgot he was supposed to be not believing her.  He was not pleased to notice the similarities to his own predicament.  Of course, Ramsay was American so had not gone to Hogwarts.  And she was old so it was probably in the 1970s or something.  But he was ready to take the fall for Delvin. 

Out of loyalty, he reminded himself firmly.  Hufflepuffs are loyal and I'm loyal.

Unfortuantely for Professor Ramsay, the long-term moral implications of positive social contracts between a community were entirely lost on Figaro.  Figaro Sellaphix absolutely did not want to be the one responsible for correcting Devlin Matthews's behavior. 

"I wasn't bullied," he retorted.  Then added: "Hypothetically.  Happen it's about loyalty? I- I wanted to do it. No one made me. And it's not as though taking tests questions is going to hurt anyone."

He was getting weary. How long did she expect to keep him here, squirming? Was he going to be lucky enough to get out with a statement of how disappointed she was? Or was this all leading up to a letter home, meeting with Snark, failing Transfiguration and nightly detentions?

"So can I go?" he tried, in a surly tone.

“No, you may not go,” Morrigan snapped, the calm yet stern tone she had managed to keep until now cracking a bit as she grew tired of his attitude.  “You will sit in that spot until I decide we are done, and the more you ask the longer it will take.”

It was late, and this was really the last thing she wanted to be doing, but if she wasn’t the type to do things half way or pass the buck.  If she could handle this herself she would, without involving Snark.  The less attention she could bring to herself where the other redhead was concerned the better.  Two outspoken women in the same room was rarely a good thing.

“There are ways to go about getting help, and stealing a test is not one of them.  Based on your ‘hypothetical’ answers I’d say there is someone else involved.  Now, I would prefer to handle this personally.  So, the sooner you give me the name the sooner I can figure out how best to handle your punishment for this and send you on your way,” she told him.

She already had some idea, revolving around detention mostly.  He was indeed about to earn himself a troll in her class.  Since he had tried to take the easy way out, he would instead be spending a few evenings performing the spells covered in class.

Figaro had talked a big talk, but there was a punishment he did not want to press Professor Ramsay into.  And that was being sent into the hands of Headmistress Snark.  He hadn't kept his nose clean at all since September and with this latest transgression, his bid for leniacy would be a laughing matter.  Even more implausible now that his dad was being held as a criminal.  Headmistress Snark would take one look at him and resort to the cruelties that rumors held were inhumane. She'd already expelled Darcy and Olivia, what was another Hufflepuff out of her hair.

He put his face in his hands and rubbed his eyes, feeling overwhelmed.  He had to give her a name.  One she'd believe. A name that wouldn't get Devlin or his friends into any trouble.

He spoke a name, and the sound of his own voice nearly startled him.  He'd not meant to say it out loud, or had he.

"Sasha. Schlagenwiet," he burped through his hands.  But the words were out in the world.  His stomach churned, but he also felt a great wave of relief.  He'd just thrown his friend to a cerebus and he felt relief.   

She waited, watching him closely.  His face dropped into his hands and she had the sense that he had been pushed nearly enough.  All she wanted now was to assign a punishment, fix one very broken desk, and return to her chambers.  If she was close to getting to that point all the better.  Rarely did anyone act truly alone and she would deal with the other culprit as well on Monday.

"Sasha. Schlagenwiet,"

Morrigan froze for a moment in a bit of shock.  Sasha didn't seem the sort to be a troublemaker, yet it wasn't completely outside the realm of possibility.  In fact, when one considered her own story it was well with in that realm.  The desire to be succeed in a class could drive a person to do things they normally wouldn't. 

"Alright," she said.  "Ten points from Hufflepuff.  You will be spending the next five Tuesdays with me in dention working on spells for the practical exam.  I will also be sending an owl home, and I expect this to never happen again in the future.  Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

She would be sure to deal with Sasha promptly...although perhaps she wouldn't wait until Monday.

The releif Figaro had felt to be out from under the millstone warped into a nasty, hairy knot in his stomach.  She'd believed it.

He looked almost surprised when without any more ado, she got on with it: took points, ruined the semester with weekly detention, and a note home to mum.  He furrowed his brows and got up out of the seat slowly.  He wondered if he wouldn't have felt less like a pissant if she'd called his lie.  Oh that's rich, she may have said, thinking he was joking.  Sasha's my best student.

"Yea, clear," he mumbled walking past her to the door. 

He couldn't imagine was Sasha was going to do.  He wasn't going to yell or get mad.  He wasn't going to push him or punch him or try and hex him.  Figaro didn't know exactly what Sasha would do when he finally found out who'd set Professor Morrigan on him, but Figaro knew it would just make that hairy stomach knot worse. 

Morrigan straightened herself up as he stood to go, her mind still in a bit of shock.  Yet, Sasha had missed class on Halloween.  It seemed he was finding himself in more and more trouble and Morrigan couldn’t help wondering what was going on with the young man.  If she hadn’t done something so similar herself once she might have believed it possible.

“If I catch you doing anything of the sort again, it will be a trip to the Headmistress’ office,” she said to his retreating form.  “And do not let me catch you in the halls again tonight.”

Turning to survey the desk once again she pinched the bridge of her nose trying to fight off the onset of a headache.  It was going to be a very long night, and she also had a test to rewrite.  The last things she intended to do was risk having the information on the pages in her desk leak out among the students.  Whether he actually saw anything or not didn’t really matter.

In all her years of teaching she had never been faced with an example of rule breaking so closely mirror her own.  The old guilt bubbled to the surface, knowing that to this day Kendall still didn’t know why he had failed that potions examination.  Before he made his appearance back in May she had been content never to tell another soul and simply ignore  any feelings of remorse, but things were different now.  There were so many things from the past they had yet to truly deal with.

With a sigh she pulled her wand from her pocked and set to work repairing the desk.

The doorway to Morrigan's office was slightly ajar as Kendall walked the corridor, his head down slightly.  He was wearing uncharacteristically muggle clothes under his robes.  A pair of jeans and a white tee-shirt with a v-neck wool jumper over top.  The green sweater was a sort of grass green that he had heard called thistle once before.

Under his wool robe it was quote warm, and he often wondered if the castle was kept so cold so that there was no provocative clothing... even amongst the professors.  Something that was becoming more and more frustrating for Kendall daily as he passed and walked with Morrigan at meals and during rounds.

He was only barely paying attention when he saw a young man leave Morrigan's office.  From the looks of his robes a Hufflepuff student, possibly a fourth or fifth year.  Unusually late for a student to be about, he was about to deduct points from the lad, but decided better of it as the person in question seemed content to head for the stairwell and toward the Hufflepuff dorms.

As he reached the doorway, he watched as Morrigan began moving her wand about, paying him no attention as she cleaned and repaired the area in front of her.  This meant he had ample time to stare at her... hair as it came loose cascading down her shoulders and back towards her...

"Wow.  That is a sight isn't it?"  Kendall spoke as he entered the room behind her.  Even after the Amazon trip it was still not a good idea to sneak up on Morrigan, especially when her wand was drawn.