Catch The Snitch

A chronic insomniac, Julian was often one of the first to arrive for breakfast and today was no exception. In fact, it was too early for breakfast, but the house-elves had grown accustomed to Julian's early rising and always had something waiting for him at his usual spot; one of the perks of being Headteacher.

Julian nodded and said, “Good morning,” to the Auror in the Entrance Hall, receiving a curt nod in return as he opened the double doors to the Great Hall. As it had been all summer, there were minimal decorations and there was only the staff table, which was positioned in the centre of the room rather than its usual spot at the back of the hall. This was Julian's seventh year at Hogwarts, and he knew that the four House tables and appropriately coloured decorations would be returned in time for the feast this evening.

As he suspected, the hall was empty of other people - except for the Auror on duty, Dorian. Julian watched as Dorian yawned and scratched at his chin, quickly straightening when he sensed the Headteacher's eyes on him. Julian considered approaching Dorian and telling him that he needn't bother with the formality around him, but instead, he continued to his usual chair at the head of the table. The castle had been mainly empty all summer, save for the few staff that chose to stay. The rest of the staff had been arriving all throughout the last week in anticipation of classes starting tomorrow. Julian supposed the last few to arrive might appear later this morning and he might even see a few at breakfast.

Julian sat down at the table with a breakfast buffet laid out - small, but impressive - and made a mental note to visit the kitchens after breakfast to thank the house-elves. He grabbed a slice of buttered toast and slathered it with marmalade while a coffee carafe poured itself generously into a large mug. He took his glasses off, laid them on the table, and rubbed at his tired eyes.

Another year at Hogwarts. Julian had been Headteacher since the reopening six years ago, a position he thought would be temporary. Since his very first year here, Julian has offered to step down in favour of a worthier candidate, and this year was no different. The Minister of Magic has yet to find a replacement, however, and Julian would never abandon the school. Returning his glasses to his face, Julian wondered which of the remaining teachers would be arriving first, and smiled, thinking about how nice it will be to have the castle full of people again.

It didn’t take too long for the next staff member – another victim of insomnia – to arrive at the Great Hall. It was in the wee hours of the morning when Nigel finally finished tinkering with a major component for one of his pet projects, and his mind was still abuzz with ideas when he tried to force himself to go to bed. Predictably, he found himself awake again after a brief slumber, but curiously refreshed and energetic.

Breakfast then, he reasoned, knowing from past experience that the house-elves would have already prepared breakfast, since Headteacher Rossi would likely arrive at the Great Hall at about this hour. Quickly he threw on whatever was within easy reach: a weathered pair of sturdy jeans, a white long-sleeved tee – good for covering up the scars on his arms – and a well-worn but seemingly indestructible pair of Timberlands that he had owned since… well, forever. (He never really took to the traditional garbs of the wizarding world, instead favouring muggle wear because they just seemed more practical and comfortable.) This casual outfit, coupled with his youthful looks, made him look more like a recent graduate than a professor. Not that he cared, and thus far nobody had ever remarked negatively upon his choice of attire.

Grabbing his wand, he gave his hair a cursory comb with his other hand and left his quarters. Outside the Great Hall, Nigel came across the Auror on duty, Dorian Innes. They had attended Hogwarts at around the same time, with Dorian being just a couple of years younger than him. “How’s it going?” Nigel greeted the Auror. He often used his natural Edinburgh accent in casual and relaxed settings such as this, though he was careful not to mix in any Scots vocabulary lest his speech became incomprehensible. And while he never fully agreed with the Ministry’s decision to station Aurors at Hogwarts, he made it a point to acknowledge them to help make them feel a little more welcome. It was the least he could do. Besides, their presence was, after all, reassuring; if things were to go south without warning, everyone would be glad to have them around.

Proceeding on, the young professor stepped through the double doors of the Great Hall, the largest room in the entire castle grounds that served as the main gathering area and dining hall for the staff and students. Presently it was lacking the usual trappings that it had during the school term – the four long tables for the students, as well as the house-coloured banners and decorations – yet it still looked majestic and stately in its current form.

Just as he had guessed, the Headteacher was already seated at the staff table in the middle of the hall, so Nigel moved over to join him. “Good morning, Headteacher Rossi,” he began. “I must confess, I figured you might be here already.” Years had passed since he joined Hogwarts as a professor, and he had since familiarised himself with some of the Headteacher's habits. The reverse was likely to be true as well; few professors shared Nigel's erratic sleep schedule, if it could even be called one to begin with.

Filling his plate with some sausages (none of them were square, regretfully), and some toast topped off with healthy dollop of jam, Nigel then reached for the teapot and poured himself a nice mug of tea. As he added a splash of milk and a cube of sugar, he mused aloud. ”Time really flies, doesn’t it? When Hogwarts reopened its doors back in 1999, a new cohort of bright-eyed First-Years stepped into this very hall for the first time. And today, those students will be starting their seventh and final year with us." It too had been quite a while since he left the Ministry of Magic to join Hogwarts as a professor. Four years, to be exact. His memories of his first class with the then-Third-Years were still vivid, as though it only happened yesterday. ”Though I wasn’t with them at the very beginning of their journey, it still feels somewhat bittersweet, doesn’t it? Seeing how much they’ve grown, how much they have achieved and can achieve, and knowing that their journey with us would come to an end soon.”

As he spoke, his mind brought him further back in time, to the end of the Second Wizarding War seven years ago. To the Snatchers attack eight years ago where his father contracted lycanthropy. Suddenly he became highly aware of the permanent scars that he bore on his arms and back, even though they were hidden from view. Even though he kept them hidden from view. His brow furrowed as he hurriedly shoved aside the dark thoughts, and he continued. ”Most of them have, in one way or another, suffered much from the war at such a young, tender age. Hopefully this will spur them to learn from the mistakes we made, and build a better society for all of us.”

Julian had been lost in his thoughts once again and hadn't noticed that another person had entered the Great Hall. His hands had been wrapped tightly around his mug of coffee, but after hearing a new voice he loosened them and relaxed his posture. Julian indeed was not surprised to see Professor Dextera; he had already observed the similarities in their sleeping schedules (or lack thereof). He did envy the young professor's refreshed and energetic appearance; he felt rather haggard so early in the morning. Go easy on yourself - you're at least a decade older than the man, he thought to himself before clearing his throat and addressing his colleague.

"Good morning, Professor Dextera," he said. He smiled warmly but flinched inwardly at the formality of their greetings to each other. After four years, Julian ought to have made more of an effort to get to know Professor Dextera, but he was not as outgoing as a Headteacher should be. While he felt as though he had a decent relationship with the Transfiguration professor, he was closer to the more extroverted members of staff. "And it's Julian, please," he added as a gesture.

Julian seemed to remember he had a full cup of coffee in his hands and took another long drink while he listened to Professor Dextera speak of the last six years at Hogwarts. He nodded and smiled wistfully. "I was just thinking about that," he agreed. This would be the first time he said goodbye to the students that have been with him from the beginning, and while Julian cared for all of the students, he had a soft spot for that particular year. "It will be hard to see them go, but I am so proud of the young witches and wizards they have become." Julian paused, considering his next words.

Julian, while great at small talk, had a tendency to keep his thoughts to himself and sometimes struggled to keep a conversation flowing. "A few of them had a rough start, and I was worried in the beginning," he admitted, thinking of a particular student, Dorian's younger brother, Trent. For many years, Trent did not have direction; his grades were abysmal and he was often in detention. Now, it looks like he has a future working for Gringotts, and Julian knew that it was teachers like Professor Dextera that played a part in that success.

Julian did not know the circumstances under which Professor Dextera came to teach at Hogwarts. Julian didn't pay much attention to rumours and gossip, but as Headteacher, they always seemed to find a way into his office. As a result, he had heard wild speculations about the Transfiguration teacher. In spite of himself, Julian was curious about the sudden career change; he found similarities in Professor Dextera's life to his own. These similarities, however, are the reason that he would likely never ask him about it. "I don't say it enough," he began, "but I'm happy you came to teach here."

Julian meant this genuinely, thinking of the first few years after Hogwarts re-opening when they had few students and even fewer teachers. Julian himself taught Potions in addition to being Headteacher until the Minister of Magic filled the position with another professor. Julian hadn't minded the extra responsibility, though, especially back then. He has since relaxed his workaholic tendencies… for the most part. "You are a good teacher, last year's O.W.L.s in Transfiguration were remarkable, not to mention the N.E.W.T.s."

It was only when the Headteacher offered to be addressed by his given name that Nigel realised how formal and standoffish he must have came across all these years. It was a habit he had picked up from his years in the hierarchal Ministry, but here his attempt to sound more respectful hadn’t really worked out as intended. “My apologies, Julian, I didn’t mean to sound so distant.” In turn he proffered his own given names as well. ”Please call me Nigel. Or Graeme, if you’d prefer.” Sensing belatedly that a clarification seemed to be in order, he added, ”Nigel is a rather common name, so it can get a wee bit confusing sometimes.” Indeed, most of his friends from the Ministry called him Graeme on account of the number of Nigels there. (There was also the issue of “Nigel” being regarded as a dirty word due to a particularly nasty individual, but that was a different story altogether.)

In between bites of his breakfast, Nigel nodded in agreement as the Headteacher spoke about the Seventh-Years and how he had been worried for some of them. He too shared the same concerns when he noticed that certain students were not performing up to expectations in his classes. ”It’s difficult for teenagers to figure out what they want to do when they’re still so young and inexperienced,” he said. ”Quite a number of us felt pretty lost too when we were their age. If not for the advice and guidance from our professors, many of us wouldn’t be where we are today.” His Head of House had guessed that Nigel did not seem wholly interested in taking over his father's workshop, and suggested that he could consider becoming an Unspeakable. His knowledge in horology would be valuable, and the work would be meaningful too. The Head of House also encouraged Nigel to keep his options open to careers in other fields including education, and that piece of advice which Nigel hadn't fully understood back then turned out to be perfectly true.

The focus of the conversation suddenly shifted to Nigel, as Julian told him how he was glad for Nigel’s presence here at Hogwarts. ”The honour is mine,” the young professor replied humbly. ”To be able to work alongside you and other esteemed professors is a huge honour, especially for someone like me who was new to teaching.” He had heard about how the Headteacher personally stood in as Potions Master when the school first reopened. That was testament to how far the school staff would go for their students, and the standard Nigel would hold himself to. “I’m also really grateful for the opportunity to come back to Hogwarts as a professor and ‘pay it forward’, so to speak.”

And at Julian’s compliment, the tips of Nigel’s ears reddened, betraying how he was unused to – and still felt uncomfortable about – receiving compliments. For most of his life, ‘zero mistakes’ had been the minimal that was expected of him, that that was most exemplified in a sentence oft repeated by the Dexteras to their children: “A watch that is off by even a fraction of a second is never right.” As such he had always been especially hard on himself, a trait that spurred him to continuously strive to improve, but also made him feel awkward when others expressed their appreciation for him. ”Well… I’m just doing my job,” he said, attempting to downplay his contributions. Nonetheless, he did recognise that it had been quite an accomplishment, especially for a relatively new teacher. ”But I am happy and proud that many students learnt to appreciate and like Transfiguration better,” he revealed. ”Especially those who did not intend to take the class at N.E.W.T.-level but nonetheless did well in their O.W.L. exam.”

”And if I may, Julian…” Nigel started, trying to find the right way to phrase the question he was about to ask. ”Four years ago when I applied for the position as Transfiguration Professor, what convinced you to say yes? I mean… I hadn’t had much experience in teaching, and as an Unspeakable there wasn’t too much I could reveal about my work either.” During the interview he had expressed that he hoped to make a more direct impact to better the lives of others by grooming and inspiring the next generation of young witches and wizards, and that was by and large true. Having spent almost a full decade as an Unspeakable, he was also able to advise students on what they could expect should they decide to join the Ministry of Magic – both the good and the bad, of course. But that had been more or less he was able – and willing – to say, having omitted the push factors that drove him to quit. A primary reason why he chose to leave was his lack of faith in the Ministry. Having seen how easily it was blindsided and taken over by the Dark Lord and his minions. There was also the matter of the Muggle-Born Registration Commission, which was founded based on a factually incorrect and morally bankrupt research allegedly conducted by the Department of Mysteries. That in particular was a major sore point for Nigel, and following the end of the Second Wizarding War he had only stayed on long enough to repair the damage sustained by the Department. He was still on good terms with his ex-colleagues, so that was at least enough to convince him not to speak ill of the Ministry upon his departure.

And then, of course, there was that matter he wouldn’t, couldn’t, and shouldn’t speak of. (Not yet, at least.) That revelation that continuously gnawed away at him, rearing its ugly head when he least expected it and forcing him to be on the alert almost all the time. That secret which spawned all kinds of fantastic and baseless (and occasionally rather entertaining) rumours about the circumstances of his departure from the Ministry. Even if the odds were low, Nigel didn't know if Julian had caught wind of anything or not.

But whatever the case was, when the time was ripe, Nigel would need to come clean.

Julian felt a pang of guilt at Nigel's apology. It had been his responsibility as Headteacher to get on a first-name basis with all of his staff, and yet Nigel was blaming himself for the distance. "No, the fault is entirely my own – I should have brought it up years ago...." For a moment, he considered elaborating but decided against it and his voice simply trailed off. He wasn't ready to confide in Nigel the fact that he is actually quite shy. Very few people in his life were aware of this, as Julian wore the mask of extroversion so well in professional settings.

When Nigel offered him two choices of names to call him and the explanation for them, he chuckled quietly and nodded. "Yes, I do know a few Nigels," he agreed. "But according to the law, as the first Nigel here, you have dibs on the name," he joked, hoping to break any remaining awkwardness. In contrast to Nigel's flush at being complimented, Julian's complexion paled somewhat when the kind words were reflected back toward himself. It was only in recent years that Julian felt undeserving of (most) compliments. It wasn't entirely fair to him to discredit twenty-six good years over one year of bad choices, but nevertheless, words like "esteemed" now elicited guilt rather than pride.

Julian's felt a lift in his spirits when Nigel asked him why he hired him despite his inexperience and mysteriously vague résumé. The answer came to him easily, and he felt that the question was a good indicator that the ice had finally been broken. "This job changed my life, and I wouldn't want to deprive anyone else of that opportunity, regardless of their teaching experience," he began. Julian had been determined to not disqualify any applicant over their lack of teaching experience; it would be hypocritical of him to do so. "I myself had no experience with children, yet the Minister took a chance with me," he explained. He looked over at Nigel and offered him a smile. "I felt that you deserved the same chance I was given, and you have proven me right."

Speaking with Nigel had relieved some of the tension Julian had been feeling earlier this morning. Feeling lighter, he helped himself to some bacon but kept in mind that it was still very early, and he would likely need to eat again when more staff showed up during official breakfast hours. "What are your plans for your last afternoon of the summer holidays?" he asked. "I'm afraid my idea of a normal workload isn't the healthiest, but I hope I don't actually overwork the staff." Julian tried to be conscious of the fact that not everyone loved to be overworked and provided them with plenty of free time ... or so he hoped

Julian considered his options in case Nigel's answer was in the affirmative. He supposed he could ask the Minister to budget more Aurors to the school to take over for the non-teaching duties. Even as he thought this, Julian dreaded the opposition that would surely come from such a request. He glanced over at Dorian who was still patrolling the Great Hall and indeed felt a little silly that two fully qualified wizards could not have breakfast together without the protection of a Ministry official. "After breakfast, I'm heading down to the kitchens to speak with the house-elves. I want to thank them for their thoughtfulness," he indicated at the pre-breakfast breakfast spread that was laid out on the table, "and see if they need anything in preparation for tonight's Feast."

Any excuse to stay busy.

Nigel was not expecting Julian to claim responsibility for them not being on a first-name basis with each other up till now. ”I too need to shed the old habit I picked up from the Ministry,” he interjected when he could find a suitable moment, which conveniently presented itself when the Headteacher’s voice started trailing off, allowing him to fill up what might otherwise be an awkward silence. He hoped that, by accepting a little responsibility on his part, his words wouldn’t trigger an endless cycle of overly-polite blame-taking. And as Julian declared that Nigel would have first dibs on his own name – a bizarre situation in and of itself – the latter broke into a triumphant grin as though he had won an award. ”I must confess: this is a first for me, and I shall treasure this privilege to be referred to by my first name,” he said with a laugh. For some reason there was almost always another Nigel before him wherever he went, so this was a refreshing and very welcome change.

In response to Nigel’s question, Julian explained how the Minister of Magic had also chosen to entrust Hogwarts to him, despite the former Head of St Mungo’s Hospital not having prior experience in the field of education. In turn, Julian placed his faith in others who were similarly inexperienced, such as Nigel, and welcomed them to Hogwarts. ”Likewise, the Minister was right to have handpicked you for the position of Headteacher,” Nigel said, returning the smile. ”Your vision for the school and the hard work you’ve put in over the years have inspired us professors to give our all too. I know it might sound cliché, but it was a team effort, and all of us contributed to our students’ excellent performance.” And soon, they would have their work cut out for them once more: later this evening, fresh-faced First-Years would be stepping into the Great Hall for the first time, while the other batches would be returning to continue their education. It was starting to become a familiar cycle, and he was looking forward to the challenge. ”The school year’s starting anew, so let’s continue to put in our best for our students.”

Using the last scrap of his toast, he mopped up some stray globules of jam that had dripped onto his plate, before popping the toast into his mouth. With just half a day left before the start of the school year, he had more or less finished everything he needed or wanted to do. ”I believe I’m pretty much done,” he replied to Julian’s query. Over the past two months, he had kept himself busy and productive, as usual. First and foremost was the new lesson plan, which he had adjusted in accordance to the feedback he received from his colleagues and students. After that he had spent two weeks at Edinburgh with his family and friends, before moving back to Hogwarts to work on his latest pet project.

(By now, most of the staff at Hogwarts would be familiar with Nigel’s habit of tinkering with some manner of mechanical contraption during the summer break. Many of these projects did not progress beyond a working proof of concept, though Nigel did manage to see several of them to fruition. During his first year he had upgraded the armillary sphere that stood in the Middle Courtyard, adding a clockwork mechanism and enchanting it such that it could automatically trace the movement of the stars above and reflect their positions accordingly. After that, he had worked on a Quaffle-sized Golden Snitch that was meant to deliver letters and parcels more quickly and reliably than an owl. Unfortunately, the prototype was ruined by, of all things, a delivery owl that was frightened by the unfamiliar flying object. The following year was spent repairing the prototype, and since then it had been kept in storage. And just last year, he had embarked on a new project so secretive that nobody saw hide or hair of him for three weeks straight, although the faint smell of motor oil could be detected along the corridors on the seventh floor of the Hogwarts castle during that time. On the morning of the twenty-second day he abruptly reappeared, beaming from ear to ear despite being visibly sleep-deprived as he arrived at the Great Hall for breakfast. He would later be seen riding a lovingly restored vintage motorcycle – a Royal Enfield 250CC Type 11F to be exact, which he claimed was not enchanted even though nobody asked – in Edinburgh during the Christmas break later that year.)

”I just finished working on this,” the young professor said as he produced a two-inch wide golden disc from his pocket. Upon closer inspection, one could see numerous interlocking gears beneath several dials stacked upon one another, and topped off with a small button engraved with a pair of wings. On the reverse side, two slim bands curved towards each other, forming two halves of a ring that could be easily clipped onto a pole or a rod. ”Think of it as a much more sophisticated broom compass,” Nigel began proudly, as he offered the contraption to Julian for his inspection. For now it was inert, its numerous components folded into a neat, compact package, and its secrets buried amidst the intricate clockwork. Should the central button be pressed, the various dials would spring out and array themselves like the flight instruments of a muggle aircraft: altimeter and altitude indicator, ground and vertical speed indicator, compass, map… pretty much everything a flying witch or wizard would ever require for a long-distance flight under poor visibility conditions (provided they could make sense of the information presented). There were even charms to render the broom and its rider invisible and inaudible, and backup flying enchantments in case the broom was damaged.

With his pet project completed, Nigel could turn all of his focus and attention to his work for the year ahead. There would be much to do: teaching, grading homework, settling various administrative work… the list went on and on. At Julian’s description of what he thought of a normal workload, Nigel shook his head. Despite how hectic things could get during crunch time, there were many things that he’d rather do himself. Every minute spent with the students was an extra minute for him to get to know them and their needs better, or to guide and teach them. ”Indeed there is much to do,” he replied after a moment’s consideration, ”but personally I feel that the workload is manageable.” And then it belatedly occurred to Nigel that he was quite used to being overworked at the Ministry. ”Though my opinion comes with the caveat that, as a former Ministry employee used to not having much free time, my views might be a little skewed,” he concluded with a somewhat mirthless laugh. Clearly, the irony of someone who studied time but yet had no time for himself was not lost on him.

Nigel’s ears perked up as Julian mentioned that he intended to thank the house-elves for preparing the pre-breakfast spread, and offer a helping hand should it be needed. ”I should join you, given how many times I’ve dropped by the Great Hall at odd hours.” And as a student, when returning to the Hufflepuff common room, he and his friends had often detoured to the kitchens to show their appreciation for the hardworking house-elves. He had also been eager to help out in an attempt to learn how to cook: his mother was proficient but often not at home, while his father’s cooking was… well, that was something best left unremembered.

He took another sip of the tea, and was immediately reminded about something else that he wanted to thank the house-elves for. ”Oh, and I need to tell them how wonderful the tea is today. It’s pure barry,” he said, unconsciously lapsing into his native slang. The tea was a special blend of Scottish Breakfast Tea, one that was tailored to take full advantage of the high quality of Scotland’s drinking water. Most people, including Nigel, had not thought too deeply about their daily cuppa. It was only when he moved to London where the water was hard and generally regarded as ‘not very pleasant tasting’ did he come to appreciate the subtle differences between the various regional blends. As such, Scottish Breakfast Tea had become a comfort drink for him, a rich and full-bodied brew that always reminded him of home. Maybe one of the house-elves had overheard his conversation with another professor about the various blends of tea, and arranged for this special blend to be brought to Hogwarts for the staff and students to enjoy.

Julian smiled as Nigel generously let Julian off the hook, which allowed the topic to end comfortably. His respect for Nigel grew at that moment, and he felt as though Nigel would be someone that he'd enjoy talking more with in the future. He paled imperceptibly at another compliment, but kept his composure and instead focused on Nigel's next words, which he couldn't agree more with. "It's my pleasure to call you Nigel – here's to another great year at Hogwarts," he said, raising his coffee in a sort of practice toast. (The real speech and toast would be later tonight at the Welcoming Feast).

The fact that Nigel was already prepared for the start of the term came as no surprise to the Headteacher. While they hadn't gotten close on a personal level, Julian had noticed these past four years that Nigel was one of the more responsible and dedicated professors. Julian was also not surprised that Nigel had been working on another project in his free time; he had seen a few of his inventions himself and he had heard rumours of the definitely-not-enchanted motorcycle. He was touched that Nigel chose to personally share his latest invention with him, and he leaned interestedly towards the object that Nigel produced from his pocket. Nigel seemed to sense Julian's interest and offered the contraption to Julian to hold for closer inspection.

Julian always had an appreciation for creativity and ingenuity, something he considered to be a weakness of his. He would have been impressed by anything Nigel handed him, but this device (that Nigel explained to be a broom compass) left him truly dumbfounded. Julian turned the compass over in his hands, observing the fine craftsmanship involved in the gears, the various buttons and features. It seemed as though Nigel's skills far exceeded that of a casual hobbyist, and Julian began to consider the Transfiguration teacher's mysterious past. He had been thinking about Nigel's motivations to teach at Hogwarts (one could retire on a creation like that) when he became aware that it had been a long time since he had spoken. Julian had a tendency to grow quiet whenever he was lost in thought - a behaviour that drove his ex-wife crazy, in fact. Not wanting to let his mind run wild with speculations that had no merit, Julian told himself he was simply seeing connections where there were none and rewound his thoughts back to his initial awe of the device.

Julian looked back up at Nigel. "It's very impressive," he said, returning the compass back to its owner and creator. "It's not my area of expertise, but I recognize the skill it took to make something like this." He smiled warmly, hoping to convey sincerity and an apology for taking so long to reply. "Invisible and inaudible," He mused aloud. "Where did you get the idea for this?" he asked. Realizing belatedly that the question was too invasive, Julian hastily added, "It would be good for sneaking off grounds to Hogsmeade for a pint." He kept his tone light so as to not be taken seriously, after all, it wasn't long ago that he might have used it for that reason himself.

Julian was pleased to have found more in common with Nigel when the Transfiguration professor said that he felt the workload was manageable. "I'm glad you are comfortable with the workload – I find it comfortable myself - but if any other staff member has concerns, I don't have a solution at the moment. We're still understaffed." Julian had almost let slip a comment about the Aurors, but caught himself. It would be inappropriate for him as Headteacher to share those opinions; he felt that he needed to be diplomatic in order to keep the peace at Hogwarts. "I'd be happy to have your company down in the kitchens after breakfast," he said.

"Oh, is the tea today different than usual?" Julian asked. “I don't actually drink tea much – I know, a crime in England," he joked. "With working long hours at the hospital, I've grown accustomed to just drinking whatever coffee they happened to serve." Julian didn't really have a preference when it came to coffee, as long as it was hot and caffeinated he couldn't care less what it tasted like. In fact, his parents would be embarrassed to know what their son called 'coffee' - if they weren't already so ashamed of the fact that he was a wizard. "I need to remain in the Great Hall for a bit longer, I want to be here in case any other staff members arrive. Perhaps we can meet around nine o'clock at the staircase to the Hufflepuff basement? I believe you are fellow Hufflepuff alumni?"

Nigel raised his own mug of tea in a toast as well. It felt somewhat like a small impromptu celebration of sorts before things kicked into high gear. At any rate, with luck (and some help from a friend), there’ll be something special in his glass tonight during the Welcoming Feast.

As Julian studied the broom compass wordlessly, Nigel wondered what his assessment of the device would be. For certain things like cooking and metalworking, one did not need to be an expert in that field to know if the final product was good or bad. When Julian finally announced his verdict, he inwardly heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank you for the kind words,” he said. “It was a really good exercise in miniaturisation. And a great eyesight test to boot.” After staring at all the tiny gears and springs, it was a true miracle that he did not end up permanently cross-eyed.

He barely suppressed his smile when Julian asked about how he had came up with the stealth charms, given the myriad… well, creative ways in which the device could be used. “Well there’s actually a rather boring story behind its origins, unfortunately.” He paused for a moment, recollecting the moment and mentally redacting all the sensitive bits before he spoke again. “Back then when I was still with the Ministry, some of us were flying on broomsticks while carrying out official duties when we were almost spotted by muggles. We got a little paranoid after that, and came up with rings enchanted with whole suite of stealth charms. Nothing complicated, but really tedious to manually cast all of the charms and the failsafes repeatedly.” And when Julian accurately guessed one of the possible applications for these stealth charms, Nigel couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at the thought that the Headteacher too had entertained the notion before (and possibly even acted upon it). “Yes, it would be extremely useful,” he agreed, indirectly confirming that he had used that ring before for non-official purposes. Sneaking out occasionally for a quick bite or pint was one of the little ways in which the Unspeakables managed to stay sane, though that need had thankfully gone away largely since his career change. But he refrained from elaborating too much on it, since it wasn’t something to brag about.

Though it had been a few years since Hogwarts reopened its doors, there was, unfortunately, still a couple of vacancies amongst the staff positions. Nigel nodded somewhat wistfully as Julian mentioned how the school was still understaffed. In the aftermath of the Second Wizarding War, it seemed as though the amount of work that needed to be done had ballooned. Notably, more precautions had to be taken for everybody’s safety, especially the students. That was the case in the Ministry as well, with all kinds of new protocols to be followed to ensure that the Ministry would not be overtaken by hostile forces as easily. Nigel was highly skeptical of their effectiveness, unless the aim was to frustrate any infiltrators with endless miles of red tape and hamper their efforts with unnecessary bureaucracy. “I suppose we’ll just have to keep a stiff upper lip and soldier on, as we’ve always had,” he concluded with a shrug, not of resignation but of acceptance. Every generation had troubles of their own, and this lack of manpower was just something the school staff would have to deal with, one way or another.

When Julian said that he didn’t drink tea much, and joked that it was a crime in England, Nigel teasingly replied with mock seriousness, “A grave sin indeed.” But he revealed his true opinion when he nodded along as Julian spoke of how he just drank whatever coffee was served at his former workplace. “From a practical standpoint, coffee is much better at keeping one awake after all,” he observed, recalling how much coffee he personally had guzzled back in the day. “The Ministry practically ran on coffee too, and we used to joke that there was a secret group of Unspeakables in the pantry that studied the productivity-increasing properties of coffee.” Undeniably, coffee-drinking was on the rise even in the United Kingdom, especially amongst the younger generation who viewed coffee as a trendy and more high-class beverage. He was about to comment on Julian’s Italian roots as a justification for him not drinking tea, but stopped himself since he would still be guilty of stereotyping. Besides, despite being a Scotsman he was not too keen on whisky and Irn-Bru, the two national drinks of Scotland, so who was he to judge? “Well, to each his own, I suppose,,” he surmised finally.

Considering how early it still was, Julian proposed for them to meet later that morning. Mentally Nigel worked out how much time he would need to make a trip to Hogsmeade, plus a little buffer time in the highly-likely event that his cheeky friend threw him any curveballs. “Aye, that’ll be great. And yes, I am a fellow proud Hufflepuff,” he beamed as he confirmed. His occasional choice of accessories in his House colours – a yellow striped scarf, a yellow tie, and so on – had not been as subtle as he imagined after all.

“I’ve got to pop by at Hogsmeade to pick up something quick. I’ll see you at the staircase in a bit, hopefully with a surprise in tow.” With that, he excused himself, and prepared for his jaunt to the nearby village.


[[Continued: Visiting the Kitchens]]