From the Ashes

yo bilvy-

caught a note from one of my fourth years, drea alexander, today, gossiping about the herbology professor passing out in the library wednesday afternoon??? is spence okay? he's been looking a little worn out and then schechter posted the notice about all the students with magical fatigue - is it related? has spence said anything?

oh yeah, do you know of any wizard who's done any extensive studying of puffskeins? i owled an old professor, but thought you might be able to help too. -jjw-

Who: Gabe and Spencer
Where: Gabe's mad scientific lab. Or, uh, the dungeons.
When: Friday afternoon, after 7th period.
What: Help.

The sugar rush of last night's midnight snack now most decidedly worn off, Spencer almost tripped down the stairs on his way down to the dungeons, stumbling heavily over the stone. One day soon, he thought grimly, he was going to be able to -- to function again, properly, or something. He'd sat in class today with instructions written up on the board and slumped in his chair for as much time as possible, and most of his students had, unbelievably, picked up on the need to be quiet and not disturbed him. Still, it had been a pretty shocking day.

The dungeons were darker and cooler than the rest of the castle, though, which Spencer's aching head was decidedly grateful for. He slipped down the long passageway to Gabe's classrooms and office, passing a few third year Gryffindors coming up and debating loudly about something or other that Spencer couldn't really pay attention to, until he was standing in the doorway of the potions classroom, looking about hopefully.

"Hello?" he called. "Are you here, Gabe?"

Who: Mikey and Spencer
Where: Second floor somewhere
When: Thursday, mid-evening
What: A chance meeting

Mikey strolled round the corner of the second floor corridor lost inside his own head. He was hoping to make it downstairs in time to catch the tail end of supper, but after going all the way down to Jon's hut and then popping into his own office on the way back, it was going to be close. He knew the house elves would happily bring him food in his quarters if he was too late, but missing supper might also mean missing out on an engagement ring delivered by a flock of flamingoes or another impromptu food fight between Hufflepuff and Slytherin. Plus it was almost Friday and that fact alone deserved celebration with his no doubt equally-relieved colleagues.

The corridor was still and blessedly quiet as he went down it, free of the normal post-dinner swarms pushing and shoving their way along. He suspected, given the time, that all the children had already finished eating and were back in their dorms for the night. It was a bit of a surprise therefore to pass the battered statue by the stairway and see Professor Smith sitting on the window ledge opposite, staring out through the glass.

It was the ledge that had been reserved for sixth years to sit at loftily when he was at school, but as far as he remembered it also offered a nice view of the lake and surrounding grounds. It was a pleasant enough place to sit, but when they had a fully-fledged staffroom with large comfy armchairs and a year's supply of coffee available to them, it seemed odd to pick an uncomfy wooden sill instead.

He started to smile and was about to launch into a question along those exact lines, but then he realised he hadn't even been noticed.

"Spencer?" he said quietly.

There was a part of him that felt bad about interrupting the professor when he was so obviously caught in some kind of reverie, but they had never created their chance to talk after the pool party and he had been looking forward to having the opportunity.

who Pete & Ryland
when Sunday morning, after breakfast sleeping through breakfast
what gift-giving. "gift"! (and possibly making eyes for help moving)
where Ryland's quarters

Look, it took Pete several days to figure out which puff was best suited for Ryland's personality. Sure, he'd just be absentee parenting, but whatever. These things deserved careful consideration.

So it was Sunday that found him making the (now briefer) trek to Ryland's quarters, puff nestled snuggly in his hoodie pocket, and knocking firmly on the door. Well, a British firm. Definitely a step or two above timid.