Coming Back Full Circle

[Integra Sigma]

OOC: This thread takes place a week after the boggart incident and the fire at Hogwarts and Hogsmeade.


From her seat at the corner of the Three Broomsticks Inn, Integra observed the bartender and the other patrons as they went about their lives. It was unusually quiet for a late Saturday morning: perhaps people were still a little shaken by the fire that broke out a week ago near the Great Lake. At least one boggart had been sighted as well, and that had led to much distress and trouble, not only for the students and staff at the school and the residents of the village, but also for her ex-colleagues at the Ministry of Magic. Already, there were members of the public pointing fingers and accusing Hogwarts and the Ministry for not taking good care of their students, and for the security lapses that led to the incident.

Reaching for her glass of gin and tonic, the elderly professor found it almost empty, and drained what was left in one shot before ordering another glass. There was still more than an hour to go before midday – the earliest appropriate time for alcohol, generally speaking – but she didn’t care. Nor would anyone dare to question the nonagenarian for doing so, most certainly not the bartender who was very aware of who he was dealing with when he respectfully appeared with a second serving of her drink of choice.

As she took a sip of her drink, her thoughts drifted back to the days following the end of the Second Wizarding War, and the time leading up to the reopening of Hogwarts. Even though peace had been restored, there was no shortage of urgent and important issues to address. Quite the opposite actually: the process of rooting out the vestiges of Voldemort’s influence and rebuilding the wizarding world would be long and arduous. And there was always the matter of the Ministry of Magic being its usual doddering self. Hamstrung by miles of red tape and unnecessary bureaucracy, the unwieldy organisation was also held back by too many outdated, overly-complicated and occasionally contradictory regulations. It was a miracle that the organisation could even function on a day-to-day basis, much less chart the way ahead for the wizarding community in Britain.

That was to say nothing of the people who worked at the Ministry. Those whom Voldemort had installed in positions of power had been removed, but Integra was certain that not all of the Dark Lord’s supporters and sympathisers had been purged from the Ministry. Even before the First and Second Wizarding Wars, there were Ministry staff who held radical views on how the wizarding world should be governed. In light of recent events they were lying low, waiting for the right opportunity to reassert their views and convince others to join their cause. There were also self-serving corrupt officials who only sought to line their pockets, brokering alliances only if these arrangements proved profitable. Some of them had thrown their lot with the Death Eaters as surreptitiously as they could, only to withdraw their support when the tides changed. Furthermore, many of the rank and file employees were unmotivated and unengaged, seeing their jobs not as a calling to serve the greater good but only as a means to put food on the table. They would do just the bare minimum to get by: just enough not to get fired, and as little as possible so that additional responsibilities would not be foisted upon their shoulders.

Though her outward demeanour betrayed none of her thoughts, it frustrated Integra that the Ministry was still a morass of problems despite all she had done over the decades. But that was no longer her battle to fight. She was a Hogwarts professor yet again, as she had been almost forty years ago when she first left the Ministry. It was up to her and her fellow professors to nurture the next generation of young witches and wizards and help them grow to be responsible adults. Allowing herself a soft sigh, the old professor imbibed a little more of her drink. While it couldn’t wash her worries away, it could at least grant her a small measure of pleasure and ease for today.

[Trent Innes]

It was now November, and Trent had attended each and every one of Professor Sigma's Arithmancy lessons. He had been on his best behaviour, as well: rather than gazing out of the window, Trent now took notes diligently. The effort he put into his homework had been like never before and had been well rewarded; many of his assignments had been returned back to him with ‘Outstanding’ grades. Much to the astonishment of his classmates, Trent had even improved on his punctuality, and he no longer rushed from class the moment it was over as if he couldn’t bear to be in the classroom a moment longer than necessary, but lingered behind as if he wanted to talk to Professor Sigma.

But he hadn't. In fact, the thought of talking to her about his missing notes had been so unappealing that, for a while, Trent had been considering dropping her class. But before he had the chance to ask Professor Forrester if a N.E.W.T. in Arithmancy was really necessary, Trent had decided to stick with the subject no matter what the answer would be. After all, he had come this far, he may as well see it through. And as dull as he found it, Trent was quite good at Arithmancy - when he cared enough to try - and an 'Outstanding' on his N.E.W.T would surely impress Gringotts.

The longer he put it off, the more anxious Trent became; even if he did work up the nerve to ask, there was a good possibility that Professor Sigma would laugh in his face. Trying to come up with alternative solutions, Trent thought of Simone Taylor, a girl he had been seeing on and off for the last two years. Simone was in the sixth year, and if he remembered correctly, took Arithmancy. While he couldn't be certain that Professor Sigma taught the same curriculum each year, it was worth a shot in asking to look over her notes throughout the year… assuming they remained on good terms for that long, that is.

Last night, Trent had caught up with Simone and made his reques, and she had agreed. Sort of. While she was willing to share with Trent the topics of discussion that came up in class, she flat-out refused to share her notes on the matter. "That's cheating!" she had said, to which Trent rolled his eyes but accepted her terms, not wanting to push too hard. It was better than nothing, and in any case, some of it was bound to be on the N.E.W.T.

Armed with a list of nearly three months' worth of Arithmancy topics to research, Trent had awoken earlier than usual for a Saturday. First dashing upstairs to the Great Hall to grab a coffee and a pastry, Trent found a quiet area in the Slytherin common room to get started. He was soon dismayed, however, to discover that not all the information he needed could be found in the textbook. Groaning, Trent buried his head in his hands for a few minutes while he came up with another plan.

Deciding that he would check the bookstores in Hogsmeade before giving up, Trent began packing his writing supplies into his bag. It wasn't a Hogsmeade weekend, but Trent was far too impatient to wait for the next one and it was the perfect time of day to sneak off of the grounds with most of the school distracted with breakfast.

…

With three new books on Numerology and Grammatica in hand, Trent had been enjoying the freedom of Hogsmeade far too much to return to the castle just yet. Deciding to do a bit of reading in the Three Broomsticks, Trent pushed open the door to the pub and stepped inside, glad to see that it was mostly empty; the Three Broomsticks could get quite rowdy, and it would be much easier to study in this quiet, relaxed atmosphere.

As Trent waited at the bar for his butterbeer (it was before noon, after all), he could see an old woman drinking in the corner. She looked like Professor Sigma, and Trent chuckled at the thought. Surely, it was only because her class had been on his mind all morning and his professor was not here drinking whisky in the morning. Trent turned to look at her, but as he could only see the woman's profile, he could not say for sure one way or the other.

"Thanks," Trent said as the Innkeeper handed him his butterbeer, and he left to find a table, choosing one directly across from the woman, albeit on the other side of the room. Emptying his bag of newly-purchased Arithmancy books onto the table, Trent pulled his writing supplies from his bag and set up a study station. He took a sip of his butterbeer, then looked up, meeting the woman's eyes.

Fuck.

It was Professor Sigma, and here he was breaking school rules right in front of her. Trent gulped down his mouthful of butterbeer, swallowing hard and coughing slightly. On the off-chance that she hadn't recognized him from afar and not wanting to draw attention to himself by leaving so soon after ordering, Trent grabbed the closet book and opened it to obscure his face behind.

[Integra Sigma]

The uneventful morning took an interesting turn as Integra noticed a young man walking into the inn. While her eyesight was not as good as it used to be, she easily recognised him: Trent Innes, a Seventh-Year Slytherin who had somehow decided recently to get his act together without additional ‘encouragement’ from her. She had not known what sparked such a change in him, but she was glad of it nonetheless.

As she watched him order a butterbeer, it registered on her mind that the students weren’t supposed leave the school grounds today, unless they had gotten express permission to attend to any important matters. She had no idea if that was indeed the case, but for now she gave him the benefit of the doubt. And though students were supposed to return to Hogwarts as soon as they were done with their external appointments, there was nothing seriously wrong about getting a quick meal or drink along the way, so long as they did not dally unnecessarily.

With a curiosity of a lioness that had chanced upon an unfamiliar potential prey, she kept her eyes on Trent, silently observing him as he took his drink to one of the tables on the opposite side of the inn. Her doubts evaporated when Trent began to set up his books and writing supplies, for he evidently wasn't here for a quick drink before heading back to the school grounds. And as if she needed any further confirmation that he wasn’t supposed to be here, Trent happened to look up for a moment, and their eyes met. The shock in his eyes was unmistakable. Immediately he coughed a little and hurriedly broke eye contact.

Too late, young man, she thought to herself as Trent tried to hide from her by grabbing the closest book and concealing his face behind it. A book on her subject, no less, and she wondered if he had realised the irony of the situation. A sly grin crept over her lips as an idea came to mind. Rather than calling Trent out for his faults – which including not greeting a professor and showing her due respect – she decided that she would give him an opportunity to redeem himself. Addressing the innkeeper, she spoke just loudly enough so that the true recipient of her message could hear her words. “Would you be a dear and put what the young man ordered on Professor Fah’s tab? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind giving a hardworking student a nice treat.” And then she went on to twist the proverbial knife. “Do note down his name too – the good professor deserves to know which one of her students it is.”

Bewildered by the bizarre request, the innkeeper looked at Integra quizzically, unsure of what to make of the situation. “If the young man has any opinions, he is free to take them up with me,” she said, tossing Trent what appeared to be a lifeline before taking a sip of her own drink. She might let him off the hook… if he asked nicely.

[Trent Innes]

Hiding behind the large book propped open in front of him, Trent reached for his Butterbeer and took another large gulp. After a day of shopping in the sun, he had been looking forward to enjoying a cold drink, but no longer interested in it, Trent barely tasted the creamy caramel beverage as he swallowed. Setting the tankard down on the table, Trent wiped his mouth, feeling grateful that he hadn't ordered Firewhisky. The sooner he could leave the better, and Butterbeer could be chugged, unlike the Firewhisky which was meant to be sipped and would keep him in Professor Sigma's sight for longer. And while he was old enough to purchase alcohol, Trent had a feeling that it would not do him any favours with Professor Sigma if he were to get caught.

As Trent stared at a number chart, he wished that he had something else to hide behind. The Arithmancy book that he had just purchased was not a textbook per se, but his parchment and quill certainly suggested that he was a student rather than a Ministry of Magic employee on his lunch break. In addition, given that it was her subject, it would certainly draw her attention more than if it had been a copy of the Daily Prophet. Trent was wondering if there was a discarded one on a nearby table that he could summon discreetly when he heard Professor Sigma call out to the bartender.

He froze, and then despite the amount of trouble he was in, Trent could not help but grin in appreciation of her wit. Quickly and easily composing himself, Trent lowered the book he had been hiding behind. There was no trace of the smirk that was once on his face, though his eyes still danced with amusement as he nodded a greeting to her. He held her gaze for a moment and then stood up. Gathering his belongings, Trent slung his bag over his back and picked up his Butterbeer. He left the table, heading for the counter to return his still half-full glass to the bartender when he smoothly changed course and headed determinedly to Professor Sigma.

"Good morning, Professor," he said politely, as though it was not unusual for them to be bumping into each other in Hogsmeade. "Would it be all right if I joined you for a drink?" he lifted his Butterbeer, as to indicate what he meant by 'drink'; he was bold, but he was not an idiot.

[Integra Sigma]

Even though Trent had pretended not to recognise Integra earlier, the teenager was not entirely bereft of his manners when he nodded a greeting to her, albeit only after she indirectly called him out for it. For a moment she thought he was going to flee like a lily-livered coward when he began to pack up his belongings, but for some reason he didn't. Instead he boldly came over to her table and asked if he could join her for a drink. He even cheekily raised his tankard of Butterbeer, pretending to be blissfully oblivious to his other (potential) transgression.

It was a commendable act, one that would have put many a Gryffindor to shame, and despite her impassive expression she was somewhat impressed. That said, there was but a fine line between courage and stupidity, and she wanted to know where he stood. “Good morning, Mr Innes,” she returned the greeting without looking up from her drink. “Please, have a seat,” she invited, though the tone sounded suspiciously like what she would have used had they been in her office instead of an inn.

Trent had chosen the most direct approach, and she decided that she, too, would return the favour by being just as straightforward. Cutting to the chase, she went straight for the jugular with a blunt question. “Do you or do you not have a permission slip to leave Hogwarts?” she asked, this time deigning to meet her student’s eyes with a steely gaze. “I trust that you are mature enough to understand the importance of these bothersome administrative procedures.” There was a certain dangerous edge in her voice as she spat the last three words out with what seemed almost like mock contempt. She had been the one to insist on said procedures as part of her plan to beef up security at Hogwarts such that the school could be reopened without compromising on the safety of the students, and it would be a personal affront to her if Trent chose to ignore the rules she had fought to put in place.

[Trent Innes]

Maintaining a seemingly casual demeanour, Trent's heart raced as he approached Professor Sigma's table. Nodding in response to her invitation, his voice only broke the silence when she made it clear that she was not going to look at him. "Thank you," he said quietly, pulling out the chair with a blend of nerves and subdued pride coursing through him due to the success of his boldness. Professor Sigma was not shy when it came to calling out a student for misconduct, and Trent had been expecting a reprimand and a dismissal.

Still, her invitation left Trent tense and guarded as he settled in the chair opposite her. There was an unmistakable aura of authority emanating from her, and the intensity of her scrutiny was palpable even without eye contact. Trent was no stranger to navigating uncomfortable standoffs with professors, but this encounter felt particularly severe given Professor Sigma's well-known reputation for her unwavering strictness. Keeping his face composed with an expression of polite interest, Trent locked his gaze onto the professor across from him, waiting for the axe to drop.

It didn't take long. Professor Sigma wasted no time with small talk but immediately got to the heart of the matter, questioning Trent's permission to be in Hogsmeade. "I do not," he admitted with succinct honesty, his tone maintaining a level of coolness even as a bead of sweat began to form on the back of his neck. There was no elaboration, no attempt to justify or give excuses; Trent responded to her directness with his own.

A short pause followed as Trent considered her next question about the importance of the, in her sarcastic phrasing, "bothersome" administrative procedures. Trent was well aware that several of the rules he had broken owed their existence to Professor Sigma's push to increase security measures during the reopening of Hogwarts, and that his response could easily exacerbate his current predicament. "I do understand the importance of the administrative procedures," he began, deliberately leaving out the term she had employed earlier, despite his agreement with it. He hesitated, and when he when spoke again his tone was respectful, yet resolute. "But I can't say I agree with all of them."

[Integra Sigma]

The stern Arithmancy professor gave the barest hint of a nod in acknowledgement of Trent’s reply. Her suspicion was right: he had indeed left Hogwarts without proper authorisation after all. If she had any intention to report the student’s behaviour to his Head of House, however, she made no mention of it. Breaking eye contact for a moment, she briefly returned her attention to her drink and calmly took a sip of her gin and tonic before asking her follow-up question. That was arguably more important: it was one thing for a student to break the rules, and another if they did so with full knowledge of the consequences.

Again, Trent’s answer was only to be expected. He was a smart boy, smart enough to not only understand the importance of the rules but also to question them and not follow them blindly. And it was the smart ones whom Integra was most concerned about. A more timid or obedient student could be easily made to fall in line. In contrast, the discerning ones had to be convinced or otherwise won over.

“I appreciate the honesty, Mister Innes,” she said, regarding Trent with a wintry gaze which implied that that was the only positive thing she had to say about his opinion. “And while I do not agree, I will nonetheless allow you a chance to defend your position.” Despite her diction, her tone was unusually measured, and lacking the usual harshness and sarcasm that often laced her words. In essence, it was as sincere an offer as one could possibly get from the her.

[Trent Innes]

Professor Sigma’s acknowledgment of his honesty was a small reprieve, but it didn’t bring Trent much relief. The opportunity to defend himself was unfamiliar to him; he broke rules often and accepted punishments in cool silence, aware that he usually deserved the consequences. And despite the measured tone of her voice, Trent understood he would still need to tread carefully with his response.

To buy himself some time, Trent took a small sip of his Butterbeer, the cold drink doing little to calm his nerves. Gently setting the tankard down, he kept his gaze steady on Professor Sigma as though unfazed by her icy stare as he clasped his hands together and rested them on the table. Despite a brief clench of his jaw, Trent’s voice remained steady when he finally spoke.

“Professor Sigma, I turned eighteen in September. I’ve been a legal adult for over a year now," he began. “I understand the need for rules to protect younger students, but I find it hard to reconcile that the same rules that apply to thirteen-year-olds also bind those of us who are of age." Internally, Trent smirked at the irony of his previous rule-breaking as a younger student, finding a moment of private amusement amidst the tension of the conversation. “If I had left school a year ago, I would be free to come and go as I please, and no one would think twice about it,” he continued. “But because I chose to stay for my final year, those same freedoms are restricted. I don't believe that Hogwarts’ rules should override the rights granted by wizarding law."

Having made his point, Trent fell silent, aware of the risk he had taken by speaking so candidly. As he braced himself for Professor Sigma's response, his discomfort manifested in subtle shifts in his chair, though his expression remained stoic. Despite his uncertainty about her reaction, Trent held onto the hope that she would at least consider his perspective, even if she didn't ultimately agree with it.