From the Ashes

WHO: Adam and Gerard
WHERE: 7th Floor, near Schechter's Office
WHAT: Adam has had it up to HERE with these student shenanigans, runs across Gerard Way, who is probably batshit crazy, anyway.
WHEN: Monday morning (11/9)

The thing was - really - that Adam was just not having his authority respected. Things had kind of settled after the beginning of the year and he'd managed to, somehow, get most of his students to take him seriously. Most of them, at any rate. However, he was dealing with a pair of rebellious sixth year boys who seemed determined to stay in detention until they were forty.

Adam was tired of dealing with their detentions, actually, and after the fifth or so transgression (and a month of scraping gum off the bottoms of desks - and not being allowed to use magic, which Adam was sure probably counted as something along the lines of cruel and unusual punishment, but fortunately this was not the United States, ha ha ha), Adam had had all he could stand of them. He'd told them previously that if he busted them again (breaking into classrooms - specifically his own, because apparently Adam's storage closet contained very interesting things that he didn't know about), he was delivering them straight to Schechter.

Which brought them to Monday morning, where he was marching them upstairs to Schechter's office, robes flapping, a look of steely determination on his face. He so badly wanted to grab them by their ears and drag them, which would make this situation all the more delightful for him. He refrained, but it was a very near thing.

"No, don't try and go off down that corridor," Adam said, reaching out and grabbing one by the collar. "I swear, one day I'm going to hex you two into next week and make you like it."

Who: Nate and Mikey
When: Friday, Free 6th Period (Nov 6th)
Where: The Transfig Classroom
What: Breaking in the Teaching Assistant

Mikey tapped his wand against his side restlessly, eyeing a new piece of graffiti on the desk with great thought. To take the message 'TFG SUX' personally or not? More importantly, to cast a tracking charm on the ink next time he had his second years around or not?

A wave of his wand had the TFG slowly spreading out to spell DADA instead. Plus a few blotchy scratches for realism, of course. It was kind of perfect until he stood up straighter and realised he was trying to one-up his students by vandalising school property.

He sighed and spelled the message away completely. In his defence, it had been a long week. And one in which everyone and their sister seemed to be talking about Professor Smith and Mister Beckett and oh my god, have you been to the cupboard yet? I stood inside!! Or Professor Smith and Professor Wentz's duel and oh my god, what if one of them dies?!!?.

On the one hand, he was really rather amused by it all. On the other, almost disappointed that Novarro obviously hadn't spread the information he'd recently garnered. Not that Mikey wanted to be gossiped about exactly, but it was starting to get a little frustrating that nobody knew he was the one curling up with their resident Herbologist and not William.

Which didn't want thinking about, really. Not when the next person he was going to see was Nate himself, turning up to earnestly further his studies by helping out however Mikey deemed necessary. Mikey particularly liked that part. However he deemed necessary. Still, it wasn't Nate who was responsible for the cupboard incident and it wasn't like not spreading rumours was a crime, so the task of searching on the floor for dropped needles was probably out. For the meantime, anyway.

Who: Maja and William
When: Wednesday, November 4 (Week 9)
Where: the Library
What: There has got to be a map of this place.

Looking for a runestone in the drafty halls of Hogwarts, Maja found, was like looking for a bowtruckle in a beech tree. The castle was overflowing with cursed objects; on her first day of searching (nearly a week behind her self-imposed schedule, thanks to the house elf infestation) she found a coil of Hangman’s Rope, a nastily enchanted doorknob, a Ming vase promising a very grim death to whoever broke it (the curse was a poorly done thing for such a delicate artifact, and had clearly been tacked on in the early nineteenth century), an exceedingly ugly candelabra of poisonous candles, three petrified dodo birds, and a Snake Snare. The last was something of a close call, but she managed to extricate herself with all her limbs intact, so she considered it a success.

Forget beech trees – it was like looking for a single bowtruckle in the Ed Forest; there were cursed objects anywhere and everywhere, and it was impossible to know where to start. Her attempts at a locating spell had failed miserably, but that was hardly surprising; you didn’t hide something that dangerous without making it Unlocateable. She had expected a difficult task, but it was frustrating nonetheless. Nor did it help that she kept getting turned around in the castle. The suits of armor were constantly relocating, and the moving staircases seemed to have a personal grudge against her; again and again she found herself arriving in the same corridors, while entire floors went unsearched because she couldn’t find a way to access them. It was almost as if the castle itself was trying to keep her out, and the thought niggled at her uneasily.

On the third day of her search, she lost patience and went to look for a map. Finding the library turned out to be a relatively simple job; she just waited for the students to come out of class, and then followed a couple of girls whose bags looked like they were about to burst at the seams from the weight of the books.

The library was impressive – high ceiling, giant windows, towering bookshelves, teetering book piles – but Maja had a mission, so admiring the book selection would have to wait for another time. She strode quickly over to the front desk, and the young man who was sitting there. “I’m looking for maps of the school,” she said. “Blueprints, floor schemes, whatever you have.” Belatedly, she realized she hadn’t introduced herself, and stuck out her hand. “Maja Ivarsson, Swedish Police.”