Classes were done for the day, and Landis was idly picking through paperwork at his desk and waiting for Naomi Foley. He'd sent a Slytherin after her a little earlier, asking for her to come to his office. He had a proposition for her... of sorts.
 
Foley was a good student, and her reputation was spotless apart from a few fights. While Landis had not liked the outcome of the one he'd witnessed - certainly it was against Bridget Nelson, a girl who reminded him unfortunately of his own sullen brother, but the destruction of the library was not an acceptable casualty - he had admired Naomi's composure at the time. As far as he could tell (or believed), the fight had begun with Bridget, and Naomi had simply not backed down. What he had heard of her other fights from professors, other students, or herself (delivered to his office directly after such skirmishes, usually by a staff member), seemed to follow the same lines. Someone insulted the girl and her pride wouldn't allow her to bear it. Well, if she could swallow her pride and refrain from any more fighting, she would make an excellent prefect in a few years.

Landis had been a prefect once. It was this unique and mature experience which made him rather doubt the usefulness of the whole charade since Dazmond and Dolly had only taken his appointment to mean it was now okay to bring the drinks and cigs into the common room. But it had to be someone, and Foley was the best candidate.

Naomi hadn't had a good morning; her darling brother, Demont, decorated his broom in wards, recently, to keep her off and away from it, and nothing she did managed to return to the broom to its rightful flyable state. It was almost heart-breaking.

So, with a bit of shape-shifting, she took a cue from their new herbology teacher and decided to apply her knowledge to some rather iffy climbing vines--while mixing in her own volatile touch: Leaves were blossoming and poking modestly thorn-ed vines out from the hardened stone surface of the pots she covertly planted in the Ravenclaw 5th year dormitory. Everything would grow in peace until something magical or someone disturbed them. Hah.

She smiled at the thought as she pulled on her hooded shrug and hooked her bag to her side. But when she stepped out of the portrait there was another Slytherin, younger, staring at her purposefully. She dully stared back, arching an eyebrow in calculating disinterest.

"Mr. Morgan wants to see you in the library..."

"Mnnn," Naomi hummed pleasantly as she drew her gaze away and nodded. She looked back at the kid and then shrugged her shoulders with predatory curiosity, and then he just scurried off. She just shook her head and made her way to the library.

So... Great. Either Morgan took up some powerful forms of divination or he had a Sneakascope trained on her--which was silly since she didn't blow up a corner of the library. It didn't occur to the girl that meeting may have to do with something else, so she decided that she was innocent, until proven guilty, and would act accordingly.

She crept into Morgan's office and studied the paperwork on his desk, before cooly meeting his gaze, "Sir?"

Naomi appeared in the doorway, nearly soundlessly - he looked up and there she was, studying his desk as if to glean the reason for her summons in his paperwork.

"Ms. Foley," he greeted her, laying it aside. "Do sit down." His tone was polite, but nevertheless managed to convey that he really didn't care whether she sat or not. Landis had been wrapped up in a flurry of career counselling in the past few days. He'd scheduled this meeting without Foley knowing that he had planned it - for this was, in a way, a sort of career planning too. Best to get all the business done at once, rather than stretch these meetings out over the weeks, and it would be quicker if she sat and made things easy.

Not that he expected her to make things difficult. He hadn't anything to scold her for, after all. There was the minor incident of the singing spells from weeks ago... but for him, a hunch had become a suspicion had become solid knowledge only because he knew her bloodline. Another staff member wouldn't necessarily have known, but he and the Foleys were  distantly related through his vampiric American uncle, and so he knew her family's penchants a little better than most. Landis didn't really care, or he'd have said something to her weeks ago. He'd say something to her now - soon - but not quite yet. That was a secondary concern.

In the interest of saving time, he got right to the point. There were times for subtlety, for diplomacy, for vagueness - this was not one of them. "I have a proposition for you, Ms. Foley. I think you could make a very fine prefect."

But that was still two years from now, he knew. This conversation was too early to be prediction alone. He fell silent to hear her reaction after he spoke, but his eyes as he watched her gleamed as if to say, go on, you know this is too good to be true. Say something, Ms. Foley, and make it good.

Naomi moved deeper into the office and positioned herself in the seat across from her Head of House's desk, he seemed busy, almost preoccupied to the point of being too busy to just sit her down and scold her so properly. But Morgan could offer cordiality with a box filled with Ashwinder eggs drenched in firewhiskey, so her musing weren't very comforting.

Then he revealed the reasons for her being there, and it rammed her thought process off its tracks. Her lips slowly pressed into a pout as her eyes fell, breaking eye contact with a a tall raise of her eyebrows. "Oh," she started.

The dark-skinned witch was selectively eloquent in that everything she said ran the gamut of anything and everything blunt: truths, facts, smartassery, zingers, insults, insulting compliments... But she really had no response to being offered things she actually earned. When she wanted something she got it, and it never seemed to be as easy as this seem. She didn't even know what she did.

Her gaze landed back on the librarian and she adjusted her shoulders, "Like, go around and make sure everbaddy's being shiny and following rules?" Other than the added status, that's all she ever saw them doing. She wasn't quite aware of what all came with being a prefect, besides sometimes being a qualified ass, but she didn't know if that was a proven fact (she was only a third-year,) so she refrained from mentioning it.

The look in her eye when it hit her almost made him grin. Times like this he remembered why he got into teachi - wait, no that was completely wrong. Ahem.

Her adroit summary of the position made his lips twitch into an almost-smile. "More or less," he confirmed. "As a fifth year prefect your responsibilities would be light, more like a practice run for an older prefecture - if you wanted it. There are additional duties like attending meetings, reporting to your Head of House, patrolling after curfew - you'd receive training for emergencies, and have advanced standing in events. Besides the ability to take or give points, you also get access to the prefect's bathroom, the Restricted section of the library, and are given the password for the Headmistress' office. And, of course, such a position is very prestigious. It shows significant trust, allows you relaxed exception to school rules, and puts you on the list for the position of Head Girl. There are a few additional aspects to the post, but I can outline them to you closer 'til. The reason I called you in so early was to discuss the only significant obstacle towards your being awarded this position. Your grades are good, your character likewise exemplary, but - you allow yourself to be baited into a fair number of fights." Landis paused to give her a pointed look. "A year is a decent amount of time in which to put this particular problem so far behind you that no one remembers it even existed."

Naomi was still out of her element, she really didn't quite understand yet so let Morgan just go on about it all while she wove her curls between her fingers. Training for emergencies, advanced standing in events, that was interesting. Ability to take or give points also sounded nice, as did lounging in the prefect's bathroom... but the Restricted section, password to Snark's office, and relaxed exception to school rules were the hooks that caught the witch's attention. She wasn't so much interested in the whole ordering people around and being a stick in the mud about rules, so much as she enjoyed all the extra perks and get-out-of free cards he dangled in front of her, or that's how she heard it.

Then he highlighted the whole, waiting two more years thing: two more eternities. Then the true catch. She had a problem.

"Well they had it coming," she instinctively answered. If they wanted to start a fight, she saw it suitable for her to end it. It seemed like a perfectly suitable solution to most disagreements, that's how it was with her brothers, and how she did it with everyone else. She found it hard to believe people would forget about it if she just stopped as well, she was less convinced now and was finding this hard to believe, and a high price to pay for so long.

She leaned back in her chair and regarded her Head of House with a quizzical lilt, "What's wrong wit' settling t'ings like 'dat anyway?"

"I'm sure they did," he replied smoothly. "But that doesn't change the matter. Whether they provoke you or you them, it would be impossible for you to get this position with a reputation for trouble."

Despite what he said to her, it was not that Landis thought others would forget Naomi's penchant for fighting so much as excuse it. She was young. Sudden spells of violence - mood swings - a whole record of hexing other students at the drop of a hat - so many things could be blamed on puberty. And if she showed improvement, then one could say she'd matured and was ready for the responsibility. Landis rather thought she might be. A strong character was a good sign in a future prefect, although a lack of control was not.

"What's wrong wit' settling t'ings like 'dat anyway?"

"For one thing," Landis said wryly, "It's crude and boorish and incredibly unsubtle. I know you know how to be subtle; I recognized the singing spell you used in the Great Hall, and that's incredibly difficult to figure out if you don't already know it's spread by touch. For another, this fighting reflects badly on you and reflects badly on Slytherin House. Keep in mind that the wizarding world isn't that big, and you will run into your fellow students again after you leave school. Keeping in the good graces of your peers will help you get a job, find a place to live, help you in your hobbies - " He waved a dismissive hand. "If you must retaliate, don't be so clumsy about it. Otherwise, it's better to walk away." A brief pause, as he considered her. "It also makes others think you have no control over yourself, that you are easy to goad and easy to predict. Are you?"

Once her Head of House called her out on her 'subtle' part in the singing Great Hall fiasco, Naomi had no comeback. Her eyes broke eye contact and fell, her lips pushed together critically, and she sat in silent. When she didn't want to get caught--she didn't get caught. There were only a handful of relatives in Europe who could call her out on the dancing syndrome she induced--there were only six of them; now there were seven.

But that bit of revelation was followed with a lecture on reflecting badly on Slytherins, connections later in life, the small wizarding world--things she never thought a lot about, or really wanted to think about. So, the one thing she did notice was Landis Morgan never telling her she was in trouble, or what she was doing was wrong--just how she was doing it. And, true to form, she didn't hold back how she really felt about things,  "'Less they know they'll wind up in th' hospital hut later," she lilted sourly.

But she shifted in her seat and continued be Naomi herself (and hopefully Mr. Morgan) registered what she said, "So what's not 'clumsy'?" Rough-housing over disagreements was fairly normal in Jamaica, she didn't find it odd or clumsy, but she did know, somewhere in the back of her mind, that it wasn't why that hat put her in Slytherin three years ago; it's why it mentioned Gryffindor.

So she'd cottoned on to the fact that he wasn't actually telling her to step down from a challenge. This was to be another Callum Knight, it seemed. That had worked out well - Callum was now, presumably, handling his affairs in a more private manner - so if Naomi could start to conduct her confrontations similarily Landis would be quite pleased. Ridding his house of two fight-happy students might not seem too consequential, but if there was one thing Landis had learned to value during his time here it was small victories. And the impact was large - Knight had been one of his unruliest, most disrespectful students. Foley could be headed the same way if left to her own devices, and that would be a terrible waste of a cunning mind.

"There are trickier spells," he said. "Ways of getting people to respect you without using your fists. You've got the mind for them - both the spells and the politics. Becoming a prefect would give you some authority, but the way you handle it will give you more. Other houses seem to value fairness - I can't imagine why - but it does appear to work in winning the regard of others. I think you'll find that with the good regard of others comes the dearth of upstarts who'll mouth off to you because they think they can. However, as prevention is one thing, retaliation is another. Now when someone can't hold their tongue, instead of jumping them try spellwork or words. Humiliation is a very effective lesson, but best be careful for it breeds hatred. I do not want to steer you in the direction of bullying. Rather I'd prefer you keep your retributions to those who've actually earned it, those who attack you or any of your Housemates directly. I am hardly any more fond of instigators than you are."

Translation: Landis hated to have any student of his House besmirched, and was therefore perfectly willing to explain smarter ways to win as he was doing now. Yes, favoritism was alive and well at Hogwarts.

Landis remembered the advice he'd been given when he was young, something he thought for years was the ultimate truth: stride first, strike fast, and end it there. He'd taken it to heart, and for a while had been as ruthless as any 14 year old could reasonably expect to be. But it had been different then - it had been wartime - and war and peace had vastly different rules. Now patience was a better virtue than economy.

"It's best to decide what works for you. All I can do is offer suggestions, and tell you for sure that if you choose to continue the way you are now you will be doing yourself a terrible disservice."

Now what her Head of House detailed started to sound more appealing to Naomi, and while she still held a suspicious countenance she looked considerably more comfortable than when the meeting had first began.

So she didn't have to be different in order to achieve what Mr. Morgan described, just less physical. It was a strange concept for her to understand, but acceptable behavior varied from culture to culture, and she had a foot in two that were very polarized from each other. Maybe she could just mess with her dad or brothers then, there was the dueling  club as well, but that only helped so much.

'Trickier spells', those she could do. The witch had an arsenal of spells she knew, many she probably shouldn't have known at that age, and of large majority of which leaned towards hexes and curses--but she had a long list of sneaky charms she kept in constant practice, but she knew it couldn't hurt to know a little more.

"So you want me to pay more 'ttention to Charms, or dyou have any suggestions on 'trickier spells,'?" then there was the other option, the one every student with a creeping curiosity had considered, when in the library, and might have actually done, "Or should I even ask?" of course, Naomi fell was one of the might-have's.

"Ms. Foley, I'm sure I'd rather not be implicated as your professor in charms and hexes should, despite the best caution, you ever get caught with one of my unsavory spells. But the dueling club, or so I hear from the other staff, might have a swell in activity soon. More staff are volunteering to help, including myself. I'm sure Professor Storm and Kirchlehner will be very informative with their knowledge of duelling spells." Quick, vicious, and meant to be debilitating: that was the usual type of offensive magic involved with dueling, with defensive being equally quick, instinctual, and very strong. The former were not necessarily spells he recommended her using on a daily basis to settle her disputes, but just because striking hard and fast was no longer always the wisest course of action Landis wanted her to know how if she needed to.

He himself was very much looking forward to dueling club too, if there was the addition of such noteworthy professors as mentioned. The approval as he spoke of Ignan and Georg was quite geniune; he'd hope to learn something from them, too.

The idea of having your own particularly "unsavory" spells hadn't entirely donned on Naomi; at the mention of it she raised her eyebrows curiously as her Head of House continued on his praise of the new Charms teacher and recommendation of the dueling club.

She wasn't entirely interested in that sort of formal combat situation with her classmates, or other students, she rather liked swinging around her environment in a fight and doing more than just taking a few steps and flinging some sort of spell. However, Naomi hooked onto a few more interesting points:

"Will anyone th' club learn t' make spells?" Naomi felt that the answer would be know, despite the merry lilt in her tone, that quickly creaked into doubt, "Don't know, does Professor Kirschenler teach anyt'ing outside of class?" If he had, she hadn't heard about it, aside from the dueling club, and whenever she just wanted to learn something she picked it up from her inexhaustible supply of older siblings.

 From the younger witch's perspective, the Charms professor was interested in perfection, efficiency, precision, and accuracy--some stiff tutor of perfection, not someone who would take a student aside to tutor. Of course, the word Durmstrang held no true meaning for Naomi, making her incapable of looking past the cold and stern visage of a such a professor to understand his true methods and reasons.