Bane of Existence [Nigel]

[Bishop Santos]

Bishop was seated at the table in the staffroom, having a suitcase open on the table in front of him. In the space between him and the suitcase, he had out a variety of herbs and ingredients and he seemed to be taking stock of what he had available. He still had some time before he needed to make the concoction again, but something about being here, having Beau back around him, he was almost paranoid about making sure he didn't screw it up.

He tapped the notebook in front of him as he looked over his supplies. He was short. How had that happened? He was always meticulous about this, how had he come up short? He groaned aloud, rubbing his forehead as he sat back in his seat. He wondered if the potions professor had this particular herb, or if maybe that shop in the village... The only thing was it was one of those herbs that made it very clear what it was needed for. It wasn't very often there were alternate purposes for Silverweed.

Tossing his pen onto the table, he began to repackage his herbs to put them away, recounting as he did. Surely he just miscounted and overlooked something...

[Nigel Dextera]

Despite his outwardly calm demeanour, there was something that perpetually weighed heavily on Nigel’s mind. A difficult task that he had to carry out every month. An obligation that he could not afford to mess up. A consequence of one of his major failures that he would need to live with.

He strode towards the staffroom, a sealed letter in hand, while a small wooden chest floated obediently behind him. Based on its sturdy construction and weathered appearance and his background as a tinkerer, it was not a stretch of imagination to presume that the chest held all sorts of gears and cogs and other items he often used to build or maintain mechanical contraptions. But it wasn’t true this time round: within the chest was instead a small portion of his personal stash of potion ingredients, carefully measured out beforehand so that he would be ready to start brewing the concoction once he got hold of a cauldron. He had enough ingredients for nine doses of wolfsbane potion: seven was the required number, plus two more extra doses just in case.

Ironically, or perhaps most fittingly in a twisted and sadistic way, the potion was not for his own consumption. Despite the numerous terrifying scars that criss-crossed his arms and back, Nigel had somehow not been bitten when he had been attacked by a werewolf all those years ago. Rather, the intended recipient of the potion and the victim of the werewolf’s bite had been his father, whom he had failed to protect when the Snatchers attacked the safe house during the height of the Second Wizarding War. And thus he had always kept his scars hidden, not so much from others but more from himself, for the mere sight of them was more than enough to remind him of the incident and torment him with a crushing sense of guilt.

But what was past was past, and the only thing he could do now was to ensure that his father had a steady supply of wolfsbane potion. There was still some time till the week before the next full moon, but he had no intention to dawdle. In fact, he was intending to begin his work right after he dropped off the letter to its addressee.

After whispering the password to the gargoyles standing guard at the entrance, he entered the staff room and looked around. There was no sign of Professor Sigma, but instead a different professor was present: Bishop Santos, the Alchemy professor. “How’s it going?” Nigel greeted his colleague, who looked a little troubled for some reason. An open suitcase, a notebook and some herbs and potion ingredients were laid out on the table, and the scene reminded him of what he had been doing earlier in his own office. Hang on… The ingredients looked awfully familiar. Too familiar, in fact. There was a cold, sinking feeling in his gut as he recognised them, and the discomfort intensified when he did not catch sight of one key ingredient.

“Is everything all right?” he asked obliquely, hoping that his inference had been wrong and that the situation wasn’t what he thought it was.

[Bishop Santos]

Bishop glanced up when Nigel entered the staffroom and nodded to him in acknowledgment, "It's going," he said, rubbing the back of his neck but he noticed Nigel realizing what he had out, "It will be, just need to go shopping. I'm sure I'll find what I need in time," he said as he got to putting his ingredients away, locking the suitcase back, "Ah....Do you know if the potion's professor has a wide variety of herbs? Would be great if I could just...pop downstairs and grab it and not have to go into Hogsmeade and hope that artsy lady in the village has it. I don't know why she would, but I've heard she's got some odd things in there as it is, so I wouldn't be totally against betting on it," He said, looking at his notebook, trying to figure out how much he needed to get. He'd be fine with a little for the next potion, but he should probably stock up on what he could to avoid this situation in the future.

"I normally don't have this issue, so I'm not sure how it happened. I haven't been ill-prepared since..." he trailed off, glancing up at him, "Sorry, prattling a bit. How have things been for you?" he asked, trying to change the subject and get the focus off of himself. Though he realized he'd made that a bit hard to do talking as he had done already, he hoped he wouldn't press. Though looking at him more fully, he noticed the case he had with him as well and the fact it was floating behind, "That's a nifty trick."

[Nigel Dextera]

No doubt Bishop realised that his potion ingredients had been laid out in plain sight on the table, and expectedly he did not elaborate further about what he was intending to brew and why. Likewise Nigel was not keen to probe further and poke his nose in where it wasn’t wanted, not when he already had more than enough information to know that – if his guess was right – it was a sensitive subject.

The older professor nodded when Bishop said that he just needed to go shopping, as though the item in question was something common and mundane that wouldn’t raise any eyebrows. “Yes, unless it's something highly unusual and outside of the Hogwarts curriculum, Professor Daley should have in his possession any ingredients you require,” Nigel replied casually, speaking as though he did not know this from firsthand experience. “Failing which, the ‘artsy lady’ should be able to help you out.” Personally he had turned Adeline for assistance after he moved back to Edinburgh from London and had to look for a new supplier for his potion ingredients. “I don’t know how Adeline does it, but Enchanting Essentials always seems to have exactly what you need. I’ll be happy to make the introductions.”

Nigel gave a thoughtful and sympathetic nod as Bishop said that he normally didn’t encounter any issues. As the latter changed the subject, Nigel shrugged noncommittally. “Alright, I suppose,” he answered with a smile that gave away next to no information about how things really were going for him, before pausing as he considered whether or not he should broach the topic of the wolfsbane potion. Deciding against it, he instead said, “At any rate, if you need any help, please feel free to reach out.”

As Bishop took interest in the enchanted chest, Nigel let out a chuckle. “Oh, that.” It was, as Bishop had rightly described, a nifty trick. “It’s nothing complex, really,” he confessed humbly. “Just a few basic charms working in tandem. One charm that repels the chest a fixed distance from anything around it, including the floor; another to kept it upright; and a third to propel it towards a specific object or person at a speed proportionate to its distance from said object or person.” As he spoke, he demonstrated the effects of the charms by taking a few steps to the side. On cue, the third charm kicked in and the chest began to move towards Nigel, and as it came nearer and nearer it slowed down and gradually came to a halt – the combined effects of the first and third charm.

The niggling feeling that he should help Bishop was growing stronger and stronger. But loathe as he was to risk inviting unwanted questions by admitting to the other professor that he had in his possession an ample supply of silverweed, between his selfish desire to keep his secrets and a moral obligation to help a werewolf (be it Bishop or another person), there was only one right course of action to take. “Well actually…” he started as he shook off the last vestiges of his doubts, “I do have in my possession some silverweed, if that is what you require.”

[Bishop Santos]

At Nigel seeming to correct him on Adeline's name, he gave a sheepish look, not having known it prior to be frank. He cleared his throat, "Guess she wasn't kidding on the "essential" part of the shop title, eh?" he mused.

As Nigel then explained how the different charms on the box worked, he made a look of "nod bad" and nodded, impressed, "I like to think I'm not half bad with charms, but potions and alchemy have always been more of my strong suits," he said, chuckling a little.

When Nigel mentioned the silverweed, Bishop gave a sigh, "Not at all discreet, then, eh? Also not my strong suit, apparently," he rubbed the back of his neck, "Like I said, I normally am not short on these things. I don't like to take chances after... But I've got some time to go procure my own, if you've got it, you've got it for your own reasons," he said, "I appreciate it though. I know that herb gives a lot away, but when I was studying to gain my mastery of alchemy so I could teach, it was always readily available. Guess I took that for granted."

[Nigel Dextera]

“She definitely wasn’t,” Nigel replied, “which is a good thing for anyone looking to procure some rare ingredients or materials.” And as Bishop pointed out that he wasn’t as good at charms, he shook his head. “Don’t be too quick to discount yourself though. As much as skill and proficiency are important, a bit of ingenuity can help close the gap.” Case in point, Nigel had never been a particularly strong wizard, and it was his creative use of his wide repertoire of spells that allowed him to hold his own during field assignments when he was an Unspeakable. “Besides, you might have noticed that it is often the students who are less gifted in magic who end up with a the deeper appreciation and understanding of its underlying principles, because they believe that they need to find ways to circumvent their perceived shortcomings.”

The older professor gave a half shrug when Bishop confessed that he wasn’t too good at being discreet; Nigel had just gone against his usual style when he generally preferred a more subtle approach. “I can’t possibly be looking the other way when I have what you might be needing,” he said. “I was hoping I’d be wrong., but alas.”

Having memorised the date of the upcoming full moons, Nigel didn’t need to check his watch to know that there was still ample time for Bishop to procure the silverweed on his own. “I’ve got more than enough for this month, so don’t hesitate to ask if you need help,” he offered, patting the levitating chest behind him for emphasis. “Call it an occupational hazard from my days at the Ministry, but I never feel secure unless I have at least a few months’ worth of potion ingredients.” The work he did as an Unspeakable was classified, but there was enough he was allowed to divulge. “Suffice to say, when you’re working alone and have no access to any resources or assistance, inevitably you’d end up massively overprepared.”

It was at this point in time that Nigel remembered that he was still holding on to the sealed letter. “I was intending to start brewing the potion after delivering this to Professor Sigma, but that would have to wait,” he revealed as he indicated the letter in his hand. “If you’d like to get started on your potion too, I should have enough silverweed for the both of us.”

[Bishop Santos]

When Nigel mentioned the occupational hazard, Bishop gave a half laugh, "I thought all my days getting to the point of mastery made me more aware of my own supplies, but seems I should check my ego, huh?" he chuckled, shaking his head. He looked at him as he mentioned working alone and made a face that said "fair".

At the offer for the potion, Bishop tapped his finger. There was so much more at stake than before if he didn't get it in time, "Alright. Once I get my hands on some more, I'll be sure to repay you," he said standing up from where he'd been sitting. He put the rest of his things back in his case before shutting it, "We could use my classroom to brew it if you'd like. I remember the potion's room being further downstairs than I feel like going at the moment," he chuckled.

"And I feel like I owe you more than just the repayment of supplies, if you ever need anything that I can help you with, please don't hesitate to ask," he added.

[Nigel Dextera]

The Transfiguration professor gave a resigned shrug as his colleague lamented about how he hadn’t kept a closer watch on his stock of potion ingredients despite being a master alchemist. To err was human, and the occasional slip-up was unavoidable. Still, such mistakes had their consequences, which was why Nigel had been exceedingly meticulous about his monthly potion brewing.

He broke into a relieved smile as Bishop chose to accept his offer for help. “Don’t worry about repayment,” he replied. “The opportunity to help another person is its own reward.” And my penance, he thought grimly, though his outward expression betrayed none of the dark thoughts in his mind. He was solely to blame for his father’s condition, and there was nothing he could do – not even preparing wolfsbane potions diligently and being by his father’s side during the painful transformation every month – that would lessen his guilt.

Bishop’s proposal to use the Alchemy classroom sounded like a good idea. “That would be great,” he nodded. “You’re welcome to use the Transfiguration classroom too if you’d like a change of scenery.” And as Bishop spoke once more about repaying Nigel for his help, the latter shook his head. “Please, don’t worry too much about that. But if it sets your mind at ease, I’ll take you up on your offer in the future.” Not that he had any plans to do so. As he had mentioned earlier, he was used to working alone. Furthermore, he simply couldn’t drag an innocent person into his fight, especially given the risks involved.

“Well then, if you’re ready, shall we proceed to the classroom?” he asked “Our potions won’t brew themselves. Despite my best efforts, I’ve never been able to enchant a cauldron capable of preparing the potion autonomously.”

[Bishop Santos]

Bishop chuckled a little at Nigel batting off his offer for repayment twice and didn't push the matter. He'd find a way to pay back the favor in some way or another. He nodded, "Of course, and if you ever do figure that out, let me know," he smirked before picking up the case and starting into the hallway.

He was more than mildly curious as to why Nigel had the potion ingredients himself and why he needed his own brew of the potion, but he knew this wasn't something most people like dragging open into the air. It felt like a badge of shame at times, the way people looked at him once they knew. He remembered that being a thing that kept him angry for so long.

He glanced over at Nigel, getting the sense he was the kind to be fine with the silence, and he'd grown a bit accustomed to it himself since leaving Hogwarts as a student all those years ago. Those who didn't know about his... affliction... knew about his parents and how they were on the wrong side of it all in the war. He hoped that people didn't immediately jump to those thoughts about his siblings too when they eventually found themselves students here.

When they reached his classroom, he unlocked the door, stepping inside, "Figured it was safer to keep it locked from the start than let students with curious minds get their hands on anything I have in here," he explained before walking over towards one of the tables with equipment on it, setting his case down on the corner.

[Nigel Dextera]

Mercifully, Bishop didn’t insist on returning the favour, although Nigel had a suspicion the younger professor would still try to do so; he would too, if someone offered him help when he was in great need.

Bishop picked up his case, and together they headed to the Alchemy classroom. The enchanted chest magically floated behind its owner as the two professors walked in silence. Nigel was not really one to make small talk – he was not particularly keen on discussing any topic related to lycanthropy, and he was confident that Bishop would share the same sentiment. He could initiate a conversation about something else more frivolous… but that wouldn’t be an improvement over the silence either.

Regardless, the journey was not so long as to require some form of entertainment along the way, and soon they arrived at their destination. “Alas, I have no such luxury,” Nigel remarked with a slight hint of resignation in his voice as Bishop explained why he had locked up the classroom. “The Transfiguration classroom is used fairly often, so it’s ill-advised for me to leave anything there.”

“Hence the need for an enchanted chest,” he added. With that, he tapped the chest for emphasis, before giving it a light push. In response, the chest floated into the classroom and set itself down onto the ground between Bishop’s table and another one beside it, which Nigel occupied. Shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the back of his chair, he began to set up the equipment he would need. Sensing that its contents might be needed, the chest opened up, revealing several compartments holding various potion ingredients and spare equipment and tools that could come in handy. “Feel free to take whatever you need,” he offered.

Carefully he began to prepare the ingredients, measuring and laying them out before processing each one in the appropriate manner. “It never gets easier, does it?” he asked, before clarifying his unintentionally cryptic question. “I mean, I’ve been brewing wolfsbane potion for seven, eight years. But it remains a challenging endeavour. It’s vexingly finicky.”

As they worked, unbeknownst to Nigel, the wound on his left forearm had begun to bleed again. Though he hadn’t been afflicted by lycanthropy, perhaps due to the delay in treatment following the werewolf attack, the injuries he had sustained never quite healed properly. In particular, the gashes on his arms were prone to reopening. Wanting to keep what happened to him a secret, he had gotten into the habit of taking the necessary precautions and pre-emptively bandaging any scars that were threatening to split open. But despite the layer of bandage he had wrapped around his arm, a small part of his white sleeve had begun to turn red as blood slowly seeped through the bandage.

[Bishop Santos]

Bishop snorted at his comment about it never getting easier, "No it does not," he murmured, "Though I have found I've nearly found some means of making it easier, but I can't exactly continue that experimentation now that I'm here," he shook his head, "Some people might be glad of that, but the goal was to try and make it not so difficult for werewolves to keep their minds during what feels like the worst time," he said as he worked. He glanced over though and cleared his throat.

"Your arm, friend," he nodded to him, "Seems you're bleeding," he said before looking back down to his work, "Need any bandages? I decided to keep some on hand after getting a nasty burn the other day," he said, though he was trying to sound nonchalant about the whole affair. He had to imagine that those injuries were significant if they opened in such a way, and that the pain was to a point that he couldn't tell the difference. He rolled his shoulder a little a the thought of that kind of pain, but it was almost a subconscious move.

[Nigel Dextera]

Nigel nodded thoughtfully as Bishop spoke of how he had tried to find a way to make it easier for people to brew the notoriously finicky potion. “A noble goal,” he noted. “But if I may, what’s stopping you from perfecting your method? I would be glad to lend a hand. It is a perennial problem for me after all.”

When Bishop drew his attention to his arm, Nigel already knew what the issue was. It was something he had hoped to hide from Bishop, but alas, fate had it’s own plans in store for him. “Ah, a minor inconvenience,” he commented offhandedly, trying to play it cool and understate the matter. Nonetheless, it was something he had to attend to urgently, so he set aside his equipment and began to roll up his left sleeve. Expectedly there was a growing dark red spot on the bandage, which he began to unwind. As the last layers of the wet bandage fell away, the extent of the injury was revealed. Two of the numerous scars that criss-crossed his arm had split open, and blood was slowly but steadily oozing out.

“Medical supplies,” Nigel requested, and a previously concealed compartment of the enchanted chest opened up. With practiced ease, he wiped away the blood, before applying a piece of clean gauze to the wound and wrapping it tightly with a fresh piece of bandage to maintain the pressure. “There,” he announced. “Hopefully that would stop the bleeding.”

Though he was under no obligation to share any more information, he did so anyway. “It happened during the Second Wizarding War. After the Snatchers attacked, those among us who were bitten were attended to first. We managed to stabilise those who were in critical condition, but we exhausted our scant medical supplies before some of us could receive treatment.” Nigel gave a nonchalant shrug, having already come to terms with what had happened and accepted it as a necessary sacrifice on his part – or perhaps, a suitable penance for not being able to protect his father.

[Bishop Santos]

Bishop didn't ask questions but listened when Nigel explained the circumstances that led to his injuries. He nodded in understanding before answering the question he'd asked him first, "It was a matter of safety," he said, "At the Ministry, I had someone working with me who would make sure I didn't hurt anyone, to make sure I stayed put," he muttered, "I didn't want to risk anyone here for me going out on a limb," he explained, though there was someone in particular that came to mind of not wanting to hurt. Someone he'd hurt enough as it was.

He cleared his throat, "If you don't mind babysitting on full moons, I could certainly start looking for a secure enough location and pick back up on my experiments. I have a feeling you'd be fine with letting the experimental process take its course, regardless of... the side effects," he said.

There'd been more than a few concoctions that led to some very unpleasant side effects and painful evenings, but it was worth it in his mind if people with his condition could get closer to some sort of normalcy or at least not have to worry about ingredients that made their conditions a scarlet letter of sorts.

"Is there anything to be done about those injuries to get the bleeding to stop a bit more permanently?" he asked, nodding to his arm as he finished prepping some of the ingredients.

[Nigel Dextera]

The reason why Bishop halted his experiments became clear to Nigel when the Alchemy professor mentioned the word “safety”. Safety was always of paramount importance – it had been drilled into Nigel’s head even before he started his career as an Unspeakable, and any lingering doubts would have been well and truly purged after he commenced his studies into time magic in earnest.

Would have – had he not glimpsed something he should never have seen.

But that was not something Nigel wanted to dwell upon. Dismissing the thought from his mind, he considered Bishop’s proposition and raised a curious eyebrow when Bishop described him as someone who was likely to not interfere with the experimental process regardless of the side effects. How Bishop had arrived at that conclusion, he did not know, and it would be interesting to find out. “I don’t mind at all,” he replied, “but let’s not neglect safety. We should establish a protocol on when I should intervene, for the sake of both of us. After all, we wouldn’t be able to proceed with the experiments if anything untoward befalls either of us.”

Shaking his head as Bishop asked if there was a way to stop his wounds from reopening and bleeding, Nigel returned his attention to the potion he was preparing. The unexpected interruption was clearly weighing on his mind as he spent a few seconds too many taking stock of the situation before hesitantly picking up from where he had left off. “Nought can be done, as far as I know,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Most of them have become chronic wounds and aren't even mending to begin with, so most healing spells that work by speeding up the recovery process are effectively useless.”

For a few moments he said nothing and worked in silence as he cut up the rest of the potion ingredients. When he finally spoke again, there was a tinge of bitterness in his voice that wasn’t there before. “And evidently, not even the passage of Time helps. So much for that oft-repeated adage,” he remarked with a wry laugh. “’Tis a lie, isn’t it? ‘Time heals all wounds.’ But alas, not everything can be fixed. Not every wrong can be righted.” His last sentence was punctuated by an abnormally loud crunch as Nigel chopped cleanly through the stems of the last batch of herbs. Having calmed down somewhat after giving voice to his frustrations, he gave a resigned sigh whilst adding the potion ingredients into the cauldron. “We’ve all got to live with them, one way or another.”

[Bishop Santos]

Bishop nodded in agreement to his statement about making sure nothing befell either of them, though if Bishop could find a secure enough spot, he could be sure of nothing befalling his fellow professor. What happened to him was of little consequence. Not of no consequence, he knew that, but he wasn't afraid to be a bit reckless with his well-being for the sake of the experiment.

"What about trying to stitch the wounds together?" Bishop asked after his comment about time healing all wounds as a lie- it truly was. Time led to the festering of wounds more than it did to their healing, "At least if they're together, you could use a spell or two to mend the gap," he suggested, though he was sure he'd probably already tried that.

"While every wrong might not be able to be righted and while we have our crosses to bear, sometimes the weight doesn't feel so bad if you can help someone else with theirs, hm?" he smirked a little ruefully at the thought before shaking his head, "Apologies, that probably sounds rather cheesy."

[Nigel Dextera]

The topic of Nigel's werewolf-inflicted injuries was not one he enjoyed discussing, and one he avoided dwelling too much upon as far as possible – though Bishop could not have known about this and thus could not be faulted for prolonging that conversation. To Nigel, it was an unsolvable problem, one that he neither wanted nor needed any further reminders. More often than not others would attempt to offer some advice and help. Initially some of these seemed promising, but time and again they would prove to be less useful than he had hoped. Now that several years had passed, he had long given up hope that any new suggestions he received would work, even though the concern was still very much welcome.

Bishop’s proposal was, while viable, challenging to execute in practice. “Many of the wounds are very close to each other, and it takes a professional to stitch them together properly,” Nigel explained. “Furthermore, I can’t tend to those on my back by myself. And even if I were to seek out a Healer, there’s still a high chance that the stitches will come apart unless I exercise extreme caution at all times.” He gave a resigned shrug, before concluding, “It’s much less trouble for me to wrap myself up in bandages and change them as needed.”

Nodding thoughtfully at Bishop’s words, the older professor laughed when the former added that what he had said probably sounded rather cheesy. “Regardless, you have the right of it,” he said. “Being able to grant someone else a measure of relief: that is a comforting thing in and of itself.” For a moment, Nigel wondered what had prompted Bishop to share his opinion, especially one that most would not think of unless they had found themselves in a similar situation. “It sounds almost as though you speak from experience,” he commented almost as an afterthought, and realised only after the fact that perhaps it was something he shouldn’t have said. “My apologies, I did not mean to insinuate anything or pry into your affairs. Call it an occupational hazard from my previous profession, but I have a habit of seeing things as long chains and tangled webs of causes and effects, and I was, for a moment, curious about what had led you to say that.”

[Bishop Santos]

Bishop tilted his head side to side at the comment of "less trouble" figuring if Nigel ever passed out from bloodloss because he was unaware he was bleeding like he had been moments ago, it would be just as much trouble as getting someone to help heal the wounds, though he couldn't force his thoughts on someone else, so he let it go.

As he started and tended to the mix now brewing in front of him, he looked over as he mentioned it sounded like he spoke from experience and nodded. When he apologized, Bishop shook his head, "It's okay," he said, "I did kind of open that door of discussion, didn't I?" he chuckled a little, "I do speak from a bit of experience, though I don't know if I can say it's necessarily experience of the relief or more of I know the feeling of feeling like there's an anchor with the chain wrapped around your throat that you're dragging behind you," he said, then shrugged, "Not sure there's many people who came out of the Second War without it."

"Though it's hard to know who's safe to ask to take the saw to the chain. Are they going to cut the anchor and leave the chain, or are they willing to risk it to get it off your neck?" he smirked a little, "And do you trust them having a saw that close to your neck?"

"I don't know when I started speaking in metaphors, but bloody hell does it make me feel old."

[Nigel Dextera]

If Bishop had anything to say about Nigel’s seeming lack of care about his condition, he wasn’t saying it. Such a response – or more accurately, a lack thereof – wasn’t too uncommon. “Not used to seeing someone being so nonchalant about their injury?” Nigel asked. “Don’t worry. This doesn’t happen too often, fortunately.”

Bishop’s analogy of an anchor and chain wrapped around his throat hit close to home, and despite his best efforts to remain composed, he flinched ever so slightly. “Given the scale of the war, few have come out of it completely unscathed,” he replied matter-of-factly, despite his obvious physical scars and not-so-obvious psychological ones. “Survivor’s guilt, perhaps?” he reasoned, as he put down his wand and let his potion simmer. He turned to Bishop, even as he kept one watchful eye on the bubbling concoction. “Haunted by the unshakable feeling that you could have done something differently, and things would have turned out better.”

Grimacing as he pondered over who could be the one to cut the chain around his neck, he shook his head. Did he even have an anchor at the other end of his chain? Or did his chain loop back onto himself? If that was indeed the case, then he wouldn’t want anyone else to learn of that truth. “And so we allow ourselves to live with the chain around our necks and the anchor weighing us down, because we perceive an unknown risk to be more dangerous than the pain we’ve grown accustomed to,” he concluded with a mirthless laugh.

The mood was momentarily and unexpectedly lightened when Bishop openly mused about feeling old because he was speaking in metaphors. “Well, I’d be positively ancient then,” Nigel replied half-jokingly – half, because there was a shred of truth in it. “I’ve been told my manner of speaking is a little old-fashioned.” It then dawned upon Nigel a second later that there was quite a significant age gap between them. “Hang on… you’re not even thirty yet, aren’t you?” he asked, before following that up with an accusation fuelled by mock anger. “The audacity of you to call yourself old when you’re still a long way from being inducted into the thirties club.”

[Bishop Santos]

Bishop nodded to the comment about the injury opening not being often and was for some reason relieved to hear it wasn't a constant concern. Hearing him suggestion survivor's guilt, he made a face that said that was definitely on the table before looking back down to the potion, "Yeah... wondering if some people might have made it out alive," Tatiana's parents namely, "If I could have somehow done things differently..." Speaking of bearing the pain rather than an unknown risk, he added, "Better the devil you know."

However when they joked of metaphors, he laughed a little at Nigel's mock anger, "My apologies," he said, shaking his head, "I did say feels old, I would never tread on the grounds of my elders," he added back, giving a little mocking bow before standing upright, keeping an eye on the potion again, "Maybe it's just being back here again, being surrounded by history making me so introspective."

"Anyways," he waved his hand, "Thanks for all this. It's rather nice having an intellectual conversation again," he chuckled, shaking his head, "I've been keeping to myself for a variety of reasons, but there's no stimulation in that. The students provide some, watching them grow and watching those light bulb moments happen, though getting my arm singed by someone deciding to half pay attention to directions was not ideal," he made a comical face at that, looking to Nigel, trying to both change the subject and lighten the mood.

[Nigel Dextera]

Nigel’s tacit admission that he was a good deal older than Bishop was backfiring when the latter jokingly addressed him as his elder. Shaking his head ruefully in resignation and defeat, the Transfiguration professor begrudgingly accepted the label.

“Think nothing of it,” Nigel replied when Bishop thanked him for the conversation. “I’ve not been the most gregarious person either, and I reckon you’ve probably already noticed that in the short span of time since you joined Hogwarts.” He too tended to keep a certain distance from his colleagues, for reasons he would never divulge willingly. And he was certain it was the same for Bishop: the younger man’s condition was a plausible factor, but Nigel suspected it was far from the full story.

He chuckled at Bishop’s effort to lighten the mood, only to offer his rather depressing take on the new topic. “Count yourself lucky that you don’t deal with inattentive First-years,” he said. “And in a Transfiguration class no less. I trust that I need not expound on how easily things could go wrong when a young and inexperienced student attempts a Transfiguration spell.”

Letting out a sigh, he shook his head. “But this isn’t a competition now, is it?” he continued, before checking on his potion. The colour, consistency and smell all seemed correct thus far, and all it needed was to simmer for a while longer. “How’s your potion coming along?” he asked, even though he was positive that Bishop’s would be perfect. “I wasn’t the best potioneer during my school days, and I’m still not. Not that it stopped me from experimenting around in class sometimes.” An old memory came to mind; his brow furrowed as he became lost in his own thoughts. He recalled how he and another fellow Hufflepuff whom he had been close to repeatedly earned the ire of the Potions Master for not following the instructions to the letter. Those were the good times… but now his situation was vastly different as compared to what it used to be, and in light of that he had been avoiding that friend of his all this while.

Maybe he should pay that old friend a visit someday.

[Bishop Santos]

Bishop chuckled at the notion of dealing with first-year students, "Oh I can imagine a thing or two and I've heard the students talk about some... interesting outcomes that have gone through the gossip chains," he mused, "But they're certainly learning experiences. Either to never do it again or to try to work harder to get the desired result. Who desires what result will certainly affect the outcome as well," he laughed a little at the idea.

"Oh, were you the reason the potions master was so strict then? He threatened to dock points and give detention if we so much as thought of adding ingredients that didn't belong," he laughed, "And there were pink smudges around the room for the longest time," he shook his head, "Like something had exploded at the middle table and ended up everywhere, though I never did figure out what potion they had been trying to make that somehow came out pink, that did drive me a little mad. Not only that, but I heard it had been done during the night, so he was especially testy to come in and find that," he snorted.

He checked his potion, leaning in to give a sniff too to make sure everything was blending properly, "Seems to be fine. Though I'm always nervous with this. If I muck it up...well... I take precautions regardless, but it's still not ideal," he said, shaking his head. He tapped his finger on the table, a look in his eyes as he looked towards his ingredients, the gears spinning. He was remembering his last experiment of creating a better, easier concoction. Without saying anything, he started to grab some other things from around his classroom to start up the mix, "Since I've got a second, I'm gonna just..." he trailed off, pulling a small notebook out from his pocket, muttering to himself about what ingredients he'd tried together, "You'd think... in a world of magic," he started as he got out the ingredients from his case, "A solution for something like this would be far simpler, maybe even a cure, but nope, left to struggle with it like it's some common disease," he muttered, starting to grind something up.