Ever since the disastrous Defense Against the Dark Arts class from the day before, Noriko had felt awful.

At first, it had been the aftereffects of looking up to find a bloody hand clutching her shoulder.  Though they couldn't eat her (unless they were an unattached mouth with teeth), disembodied limbs were definitely high on her list of Things She Never Wanted To See, just above Gryffindors and right under Dragons, Boggarts, and Muggles.  In general, Defense Against the Dark Arts was not her favorite class, and having to deal with the shock of seeing Professor Storm's awful, bloody hand had not made it rise any higher on her list.

But since then, terror had somewhat faded into pride.  She had, after all, managed to resist being apparated!  She was the only one who had managed that feat before the lesson had been cut short.  For the first time ever, she had done well in Defense class.  Her parents would be so proud!  Suddenly, thoughts of trolling out of her OWL (never mind the fact that her OWLs were still a good four and a half years away) had been replaced by dreamy images of Noriko as a breathtakingly brave Auror, dodging left and right around curses and throwing herself fearlessly at stone monuments whenever a dark wizard tried to apparate her away.

Either way, being accused of trying to murder Professor Storm (or possibly Professor Storm getting accused of trying to murder her - she still wasn't sure what that girl with the boy's name over at the Hufflepuff table had been talking avidly about) was definitely a nice change from having her bum inflated in front of the entire class.  Noriko still hadn't quite managed to live down that infamous moment, although being the one who had managed to severe Professor Storm's hand was starting to help.  The teachers were all giving her funny looks in classes - she supposed it was because they were worried that she might try to splinch off their hands, too - and even one of the cannibal Gryffindors had told her that he was impressed.

That line of thinking, though, led very quickly to another, much less pleasant train of thought.  Noriko knew how embarrassed she'd been after Eirene had inflated her bum.  How did Professor Storm probably feel now that she'd splinched his hand off?  It had to be even worse!  At least Noriko was just a first year; Professor Storm was a professor, and not even a librarian professor like Professor Librarian Morgan.  Noriko wondered if he had cried; she had spent the whole evening crying in her dorm room after Eirene had inflated her bum, and had even cried on and off for several weeks after that (mostly when she thought Eirene was looking), although she had stopped since they had made up on Valentine's Day.

Either way, Noriko felt awful.  She was terrified of Professor Storm, but she hadn't meant to tear his arm straight off.  What if he thought she had done it on purpose?  What if he didn't think she was sorry?  She didn't want to be mean!  Not even to one of her professors who might-or-might-not be trying to kill her!

It was just after dinner when Noriko snuck into the darkened Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.  She took a quick look around; it didn't look like anyone was present.  Gingerly, she pulled her wand out, setting it aglow with a whispered Lumos.

Trespassing was probably dangerous, but Noriko was determined to be quick.  She darted across the room, making a beeline for Professor Storm's desk.  The light of her wand made shadows dance as she scurried by the empty desks, digging into her robe for the magical Get Well Soon picture that she had drawn for Professor Storm.

Smoothing it out with a trembling hand, Noriko carefully set it down in the center of the professor's desk.  Her drawing of Professor Storm smiled merrily back at her, waving his arm at her in rhythm with the happily bobbing flowers on either side of him.  Noriko gave it a quick, nervous smile in return.  She hadn't signed it, but that was probably safest; that way, Professor Storm couldn't be sure that it was from her.

She was just getting ready to turn around and escape back through the door when there was a noise in the hallway.  Footsteps!  Noriko froze, her eyes going wide.  Someone was coming!  They'd catch her!  And she was a known Splincher!  What if they thought she was trying to go after Professor Storm again to splinch off his other arm?!

With a squeak of surprise, Noriko dropped her still-glowing wand and dove under the desk.  She pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them tightly, squeezing her eyes shut and hoping to Merlin that whoever was outside the classroom would keep on walking by.

Given last week, Professor Storm was glad of a quiet Sunday. He had second and forth year work to mark, stacked on the desk in the classroom, a pile either side of his inkwell, which he had wanted to return by Monday. Walking along the first floor corridor briskly, his left arm no longer in its sling, but still being less cooperative than he'd hoped, Ignan made his way to the familiar classroom door, which was dark beyond.

The lines of desks faced the front with two passages between them, with the fireplaces at either end empty and unlit. The February chill hung in the air, but it no longer bit with the ferocity of previous months in the snow. He left the door open, as he had found it, students often dropped homework off early in a hope of achieving extra house points, or his coveted approval, while he marked on an evening.

Crossing to his desk at the head of the class in the darkness, he gestured to the lamp upon it, which spluttered into flame, casting a warm glow of light onto the desktop and the objects upon it. The lines of candles either side of the classroom remained unlit, no need to illuminate the whole place with just him at the desk. Twisting the knob he increased the flame to better see the work, and noticed the unusual piece sat right in the middle of the usually empty desktop.

The lines of the drawing moved, and the figure in the middle waved its own arm gleefully at him. Ignan's face frowned deeply and he snatched up the drawing, holding it closer to the light for examination, utterly surprised. Someone had drawn a simple, but enchanted drawing of him losing his arm, surrounded with bobbing flowers. Had they meant it to poke humour at his unfortunate accident?

Get well soon!!

The top of the drawing proclaimed, and Ignan tilted it for better reading of the handwriting at the bottom.

PS sorry I broke your hand

Wakahisa. It must be, unless it was some terrible joke played by an older student to incriminate her. No, it didn't have the terrible humour that would be accompanied, and it looked very much reminiscent of her handiwork. If it was a fake, it was an admirable one.

Despite his original alarm and surprise, he suddenly felt very touched. Noriko suffered with her confidence in her classes, which was of particular disadvantage in his own class. He knew she was particularly frightened of him, and unlike other students who were scared of him, Noriko's genuine fear of things, and the fact she still turned up for his lessons and turned in her work made him regret his approach to her sometimes. Then on the other hand, it made him wish to treat her worse to force her to have a backbone and accept that the world really was a scary place.

Still, he had no doubt that the fact she had been left with his hand in the middle of the Hogsmeade green would have been distressing for most of the students amongst his younger classes. For Noriko, it was no doubt hell, though he had heard her being hailed as a hero for the incident since.

Nobody had ever drawn him a picture, particularly of himself. Yes, he had younger relatives over the years, but he'd never been one to tend to them, or spend his adult days entertaining them. Having become an auror and then left the family to travel, he never gave cause for younger members of the family to doodle his likeness on parchment. Holding something, even as comically drawn as this was, rather wrong footed him, and he let out an amused chuckle, corners of his mouth turning up.

Placing the drawing back down, he withdrew the chair from his desk and sat down, pushing his feet underneath into the dark below. His boots met something unusual which squeaked. Hurriedly drawing back, he illuminated his wand tip and revealed an unexpected guest beneath his desk.

"Wakahisa?!" He exclaimed, drawing the chair out of the way, and peering at her with confusion. "What are you doing under my desk?"

No matter how many times that Noriko's father had told her that camouflage didn't work that way, she firmly believed that if you couldn't see something, then it couldn't see you.  She curled into a tight ball under Professor Storm's desk, hugging her knees against her chest, and pressed her eyes firmly shut, scrunching up her face as she strained to listen to the footsteps.  If only whoever it was would keep walking...if only they wouldn't find her here...

But the footsteps stopped right behind the desk.  Noriko cracked an eye open, peering through the darkness at a pair of shoes that looked suspiciously as if they belonged to a professor.  Was it Professor Storm?  Her heart skipped a beat!  Gulping, she tried to curl into an even smaller ball, but just then, the adult sat down and kicked her, making her squeak.

Noriko froze.  Maybe, just possibly, the adult hadn't heard anything.  Silently, she held her breath, not even daring to move as she counted to ten...

"Wakahisa?!" a voice cried.  "What are you doing under my desk?"

"I'm sorry!" Noriko wailed in a panic.  She didn't know what to do or where to go - the Professor was blocking her only escape - so she threw herself at his feet.  "I didn't mean to do it!  I wasn't trying to tear off your hand!  It just happened!  I-- .... I--..."  Tears were already streaming down her face; crying had never been the most effective tactic when she had gotten into trouble at home, but it was still the quickest that came to mind.

"Please don't hurt me!" she begged him desperately.  "I'm sorry!  I didn't mean to make you splinch!"

"I'm sorry!" Noriko wailed in response.

Ignan peered at her in his wandlight with confusion. His baffled mind scrambled for possible explanations, and landed on the possibility he may have disturbed her leaving the drawing, and in her fright she had ducked for the nearest cover.

Noriko threw herself at his feet, in quite a panic.
"I didn't mean to do it!  I wasn't trying to tear off your hand!  It just happened!  I-- .... I--..." Heavens, she'd started to cry, Ignan drew back half a pace, keen to put distance between himself an the hysterical student.

"Please don't hurt me! I'm sorry!  I didn't mean to make you splinch!"

"For Merlin's..." Ignan muttered, extinguishing his wand as he did, and plunging them both into the dimmer light of the lamp on his desk. Reaching down swiftly, he hauled Noriko to her feet by the shoulders of her robes (albeit mostly with his right hand, his left struggling to respond so efficiently) and gave her a firm shake. 

"Wakahisa!" He repeated, emphasising the syllables of her name. "Get a hold of your self, for Solomon's sake. I am your professor." Bending ever so slightly, still gripping her shoulders he looked her in the eye, and let her go, realising he was potentially going to induce further hysterics by grasping her.

"I am not angry with you." He explained, though until he got to 'not' his tone sounded like he was, and then lost its force.  He paused, looking down to try and think how to sort things out.

"Splinching is a hazard of apparition. I should have explained that to everyone before we started. Its not your fault - its a higher possibility if you successfully anchor yourself against being forced to apparate." He stood up properly again from his stoop, "Which, you did very efficiently." He added quietly.

Professor Storm rested his right hand on the desk beside them both, facing Noriko to his left. in the pool of lamplight cast over his desk. He caught sight of the drawing, still merrily waving, and the flowers bobbing.

"Er, did you... did you draw that, Wakahisa?" The Professor asked awkwardly.

In a split second, all of Noriko's original fears about the new professors came rushing back.  Professor Storm waved his wand, plunging the room into near darkness, and Noriko let out a shriek of terror.  He was going to eat her!  Winifred Oliver had been right all along!  Panicking, she attempting to scramble out of the way, but the Professor had already grabbed hold of her and was hauling her back to her feet.

Noriko squeezed her eyes shut as he spoke to her loudly.  Obviously he was her professor, but that didn't mean that he couldn't try to eat her just the same!  Maybe he was a Muggle disguised as a wizard, and that was why he had gotten splinched!  Not a single word even registered in her mind until his voice changed.

He wasn't angry with her?  She cracked open one eye suspiciously.  But no!  He was saying she'd been efficient!  That was a rather big word, probably like one that Professor Trishna would use when he was talking about dying sores, but Noriko knew that it meant good things.  She wanted to be efficient when she grew up, just like she wanted to be successful and important.  (The verdict was still out on whether she wanted to be brave.)

Noriko eyed the picture warily over the edge of the desk as Professor Storm turned toward it.  Suddenly, it didn't seem like such a very good likeness after all.

"Yes."  Her first attempt at speaking came out sounding rather tinny, so she gulped and tried again.  "Y-yes," she told him, in a stronger but still wavering voice.  "And I...I cast the charms on the flowers to make them dance and everything.  Does it look all right?" she asked anxiously, in a very small voice.  "Your arm's back on now, so you couldn't wave like that."

"Yes."  Noriko squeaked, "Y-yes, and I...I cast the charms on the flowers to make them dance and everything.  Does it look all right? Your arm's back on now, so you couldn't wave like that."

"It is unexpectedly splendid." Professor Storm replied, caught off guard by her kindness towards him, and also her creativity. "And, no as useful as a detatchable forearm might be, Madam Nagde was swift to reattach it for me that afternoon." He raised his left hand towards her at her eye height, and the fingers moved slowly to prove.

"I should let Professor Kirchelener know your aptitude for animated drawings." He added stiffly, unsure of issuing praise like this.

"Actually, Wakahisa... Noriko, I was hoping to speak to you before our next lesson to apologise for the whole incident. It cannot have been pleasant. Mr Morgan explained you used expelliarmus on my hand with impressive force." Folding his arms he looked disapprovingly at Noriko. "Don't tell me that your feeble attempts in this classroom are merely an act?"

It was...splendid!  He thought her drawing was splendid!  Noriko's eyes widened at the unexpected praise.  Was he being nice to her because he was worried what she would do now that she'd splinched his hand off?  She didn't think so; Professor Storm didn't seem like the sort to be scared of anyone, even if they'd torn off his arm.  And he wanted to tell Professor Kirchlehner about her drawing!

The disapproving expression that came next was much closer to what she was used to.  Noriko shrank back as Professor Storm recounting what she'd done to his hand.  Her feeble attempts?  She winced.  Of course she tried in class!

"No, I..."  Noriko gulped.  "It's just - Defense class is hard," she informed him in a whisper.  It didn't help that they were always doing things, which usually ended with her either panicking or Eirene inflating her bum.  "I try!  I really do!  It's hard to cast spells when everyone is watching."

"No, I... It's just - Defense class is hard," her voice had dropped to a whisper again. "I try!  I really do!  It's hard to cast spells when everyone is watching."

"If Defence Against the Dark Arts wasn't hard, Wakahisa, we wouldn't teach it, would we?" He humoured her softly. "I am glad you try," The Professor raised an eyebrow critically, "I would be most displeased if you didn't."

Taking a step away, he retrieved his chair which he had moments earlier vacated in a hurry upon finding an uninvited guest beneath his desk in surprise. Sitting down again he regarded Noriko from a lower point - her standing higher than his head once seated. It was easier to talk to her that way, especially since she loved to droop her head to avoid eye contact, which made her almost intolerably hard to read. He wasn't going to resort to legilmency to read an eleven year old student. The things that happened in children's heads were not to be read. Adults... well, they were responsible for themselves, and he made a habit not to unless there was no other option.

"By 'when everyone is watching' do you include your classmates as well as I, and does this apply to your other classes, Wakahisa?" The drawing rested beneath his elbow as he rested it on the table and twisted to look at Noriko properly. She was quite a pretty girl, beneath her flop of dark hair, well, perhaps the lighting helped, but he'd had little opportunity to ever notice until now.

Noriko swallowed, her eyes still wide as she looked at her now-seated professor.  "Y-yes?" she ventured, not sure if this was the answer that he wanted to hear.  She actually enjoyed Charms, even if Professor Kirkle-... Kirchler-... the new professor's classroom was scary, and she had liked Astronomy until it had changed from proper Astronomy into all kinds of Muggle things.  But for the most part, the setting didn't help, even though Defense class was by far the hardest.

"It's the Gryffindors," she added, hanging her head.  "They're mean.  And some of them are Muggleborn."  She sneaked a peak at her professor through her fringe, to make sure that he hadn't taken the admission as her saying a bad word.  "Keegan and Mairead said they'd eat me.  And I'm not very good at magic to begin with, not like Eirene."

"It's the Gryffindors they're mean.  And some of them are Muggleborn. Keegan and Mairead said they'd eat me.  And I'm not very good at magic to begin with, not like Eirene."

"Gryffindors just enjoy sport." Professor Storm assured Noriko. "Like lions, they pick out who seems to show weakness, and separate them from their own kind to make them easier still to prey on. Kearney and ó Fearghail cannot eat you, Wakahisa, they are not cannibals, however they were raised, and whatever their blood heritage." She looked unconvinced to Ignan, though it was hard to tell.

"You don't trust my opinion?" He asked her suspiciously, but not disapprovingly. "Good for you!" The corners of his mouth turned into a humoured smirk.

"If its any consolation Wakahisa, what magic you do perform does tend to be correct, if lacking in confidence. Performing spells amongst your classmates will be something you will get used to, or rather, you will have to get used to." His eyes fell on the drawing again and he contemplated a moment.

"Though there always is the option of getting back at Kearney and ó Fearghail..."