The Ravenclaw common room was in chaos. Two teams of boys -- half of them without shirts on -- were batting something like a tiny perpetual explosion back and forth, shouting and running, trampling furniture, homework, and smaller students, while a third-year girl, levitating at the ceiling (apparently against her will) screamed for help. A group of first-years had a terrified house-elf cornered under a table and were trying to give it clothes.
"Everybody stop," Charles snapped, amplifying his voice with a twitch of his wand.
The room fell silent, one boy toppling over and breaking a chair as he tried to freeze in his tracks.
"Hi, Professor X," Dominique Weasley said in a tiny, sheepish voice. Her hair was frazzled and her eyes looked shadowed and sleepless.. Poor 'Minique, she had doubtless tried her best to keep things under control in his mental absence.
"Hello, sweetheart," he sighed. "You four, let the poor house-elf go. Immediately. Yes, I know, internalized oppression, et cetera, we'll talk about it later. You boys, put your clothes back on.. What is that thing?" The tiny explosion, dropped on the floor, was beginning to singe the carpet. "Wait, don't even tell me, it came from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes? I'm shocked. Whoever owns that abomination, douse it or lock it away or whatever will keep it out of my sight and away from flammable materials. Clarissa, darling, don't cry, I'm going to get you down."
With some semblance of order restored, he set the boys to setting the room to rights, while he fixed the chair and a few other bits of damaged furniture with a quick Reparo.
"I really tried to stop them, Professor," Dominique said meekly.
"I'm sure you did, sweetheart, don't worry about it. I know I haven't been around as much as you're accustomed to."
"Well, of course things have been... you know, demanding. With Imogen Cox and everything."
"Yes, well, I have a duty to the living students as well. Come on, 'Minique, tell me all the news. How are things with your... goodness, what is Dolly to you? Cousin of a cousin..."
"We've declared her an honorary Weasley cousin, probationary status," Dominique said, "We call her Probie," and proceeded to follow him throughout Ravenclaw Tower, chattering about everything he could possibly want to know about the Potter Pack and the Ravenclaws as he inspected the dormitories, patting heads and kissing the occasional skinned knee, both figurative and literal. He could feel his mind filing away details of what he saw and heard, to be properly catalogued and interpreted during a long-overdue Divination session. He should have time for that in the morning.
"And that's about everything, really," Dominique said at last. By this time they were sitting on a couch in the restored common room, with three students making up a board game as they went along at the table behind them, and the traumatized house-elf still trying to build up the fire with shaking hands. "What about you, Prof?"
"Me? Oh, you know, all manner of official... unpleasantness. Inevitable, when there's a student death."
"You seem to have made a new friend this year," Dominique said, perhaps a little teasingly.
Charles forbade himself to blush, but could feel his ears warming anyway. "I suppose you mean Eri – Professor Lehnsherr."
"Mm-hmm. Also known as Professor LandShark, Meanest Teeth in All Britain."
"He's not mean, not really. Um, is he?"
"Sometimes," Dominique said drily, "especially if you're stupid. He's getting better, though." She raised an eyebrow. "Almost like he had a mellowing influence or something."
"I try," Charles admitted.
"Well, try harder. Exams will be here before you know it and we need him all happy and relaxed by then."
Charles cleared his throat. "Yes. Well. Looking forward to the Halloween masquerade? Do you have your costume ready?"
Dominique smiled wolfishly and consented to the change in topic. The conversation became more enjoyable, and by the time Charles made his way back to his own rooms, it was almost possible to forget the weight of the letter over his heart.
FILL: The Better Men (18f/30ish)
"Everybody stop," Charles snapped, amplifying his voice with a twitch of his wand.
The room fell silent, one boy toppling over and breaking a chair as he tried to freeze in his tracks.
"Hi, Professor X," Dominique Weasley said in a tiny, sheepish voice. Her hair was frazzled and her eyes looked shadowed and sleepless.. Poor 'Minique, she had doubtless tried her best to keep things under control in his mental absence.
"Hello, sweetheart," he sighed. "You four, let the poor house-elf go. Immediately. Yes, I know, internalized oppression, et cetera, we'll talk about it later. You boys, put your clothes back on.. What is that thing?" The tiny explosion, dropped on the floor, was beginning to singe the carpet. "Wait, don't even tell me, it came from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes? I'm shocked. Whoever owns that abomination, douse it or lock it away or whatever will keep it out of my sight and away from flammable materials. Clarissa, darling, don't cry, I'm going to get you down."
With some semblance of order restored, he set the boys to setting the room to rights, while he fixed the chair and a few other bits of damaged furniture with a quick Reparo.
"I really tried to stop them, Professor," Dominique said meekly.
"I'm sure you did, sweetheart, don't worry about it. I know I haven't been around as much as you're accustomed to."
"Well, of course things have been... you know, demanding. With Imogen Cox and everything."
"Yes, well, I have a duty to the living students as well. Come on, 'Minique, tell me all the news. How are things with your... goodness, what is Dolly to you? Cousin of a cousin..."
"We've declared her an honorary Weasley cousin, probationary status," Dominique said, "We call her Probie," and proceeded to follow him throughout Ravenclaw Tower, chattering about everything he could possibly want to know about the Potter Pack and the Ravenclaws as he inspected the dormitories, patting heads and kissing the occasional skinned knee, both figurative and literal. He could feel his mind filing away details of what he saw and heard, to be properly catalogued and interpreted during a long-overdue Divination session. He should have time for that in the morning.
"And that's about everything, really," Dominique said at last. By this time they were sitting on a couch in the restored common room, with three students making up a board game as they went along at the table behind them, and the traumatized house-elf still trying to build up the fire with shaking hands. "What about you, Prof?"
"Me? Oh, you know, all manner of official... unpleasantness. Inevitable, when there's a student death."
"You seem to have made a new friend this year," Dominique said, perhaps a little teasingly.
Charles forbade himself to blush, but could feel his ears warming anyway. "I suppose you mean Eri – Professor Lehnsherr."
"Mm-hmm. Also known as Professor LandShark, Meanest Teeth in All Britain."
"He's not mean, not really. Um, is he?"
"Sometimes," Dominique said drily, "especially if you're stupid. He's getting better, though." She raised an eyebrow. "Almost like he had a mellowing influence or something."
"I try," Charles admitted.
"Well, try harder. Exams will be here before you know it and we need him all happy and relaxed by then."
Charles cleared his throat. "Yes. Well. Looking forward to the Halloween masquerade? Do you have your costume ready?"
Dominique smiled wolfishly and consented to the change in topic. The conversation became more enjoyable, and by the time Charles made his way back to his own rooms, it was almost possible to forget the weight of the letter over his heart.
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