Have you seen this man? PV Professors Finished

The owl had not been entirely unexpected. Griffith was fully aware that it was only a matter of time before one of the professors slipped up, before the stalwart defenses of Hogwarts' mighty wards would fall victim to it's many backdoors. He was only here to hide, after all. His presence as a professor was one born solely of self interest, and he had no desire to stay any longer than would suit his purposes. But to know when it was time to leave, he had to stay up to date. And that meant showing his face to boring functions and professorial meetings, especially ones heralded by such an owl.

He had already dealt with curse dolls and students lost in bramble-filled woods. There was danger everywhere, lurking in the festering cracks of useless bureaucracy and molding fail-safes. It was certainly safer than many corners of the magical underbelly of muggle earth, but he had no delusions in his complete protection. No, he would have to keep his eyes out, and his head low.

There were a few professors he knew were competent. The Slytherin head of house, especially, was someone he needed to steer clear of. If she knew of his plans, and got it in her head to stop him, he would have to come up with a pretty brilliant strategy. He was reasonably certain that she mixed cobra venom with her wine just to give it a kick. Caradoc Brown, the individual from whom the owl had come from was someone that Griffith knew precious little about. He seemed bland, if anything. Just another face in a ever-changing lineup of faculty.

As he tried to place faces to names, vaguely recalling the weird rune chick who seemed like she had gotten turned around on her way to a muggle ren fair, the red robed muggle studies girl that looked like she was constantly method acting for a role in a gothic opera involving edgar alan poe, the girl who looked like she had a constant desire to flip her hair, the astronomy professor who looked sketchier than the poorly concealed villain from an early episode of scooby doo, and...

His mental catalogue was interrupted as he reached the headmaster's office, slipping inside, only to find Professor Browne alone, staring at the door that he had just opened. Well, this was about to get really awkward...

With a nod to the hufflepuff, Griffith cleared his throat, pointed down at a cavernous leather pocket and gruffly declared

"Be with you in a moment. Need to pet my ants."

Before stuffing one hand into the pocket, in apparent concentration, and taking position with his back as close to a nearby wall as he could manage. He fought the urge to grimace at himself for a reason so poorly contrived, and prayed for anyone else to follow him through the door, anyone at all that could strike up a conversation with the man who had called them together. It baffled the welshman that he had somehow entered the room before any of the others. The trip from the stables hadn't been short, and he hadn't exactly hurried, had he?

Well, maybe he was a little apprehensive. Could have quickened his steps.

Flipping pages one after another, Maya was sitting on her couch in her classroom calming her mind with an old classic book, The Killer Artist by Daniel Silva. She had heard about a muggle author who featured his main character as an Israeli spy. With her background and need to keep up with culture, she was quick to grab the book for her own.

Just a few pages in, Maya was interrupted by an owl that dropped a letter onto her lap. She hastily closed her book and opened the letter, wondering what else could happen or go wrong in the school. Reading the letter from Caradoc Browne it seemed that something did happen: the headmaster was missing. No one had seen him around. Her heart sank. She never went to see him after the Masquerade Ball as she was too ashamed of what she had done. She didn’t want to see the disappointment. But she never thought that he would be missing.

She tossed the book on the other side of the couch when time went by and progress of her reading was done, and when curfew had begun, she made her way to the Headmasters office where Caradoc mentioned to meet. When she got there she saw him waiting by the small steps in the middle of the room. But he was not alone. Also in the room was Professor Griffith. Maya never liked him. To her, he was a pompous fool who had a pure blood perspective. He was also strange... She had no idea what he was doing. Was he staring at ants? She shivered at the oddity of the man and shifted her focus on Caradoc.

”I came as soon as curfew began,” she said, walking toward the Hufflepuff Head and sitting by him on the small stairs. She took down her red hood, her hair, black, shining from the light of the room.

”Did something happened to Headmaster Lear?” she asked, wondering why it was Caradoc who called the meeting rather than Lear himself.

Tap tap tap sounded from the window of his office, causing him to look up from the current administrative task he was going over. With his office still not yet fully put together, he would dodge a couple of boxes as he made his way over to the window letting the owl in. With a gentle pat of the owl's head and a jealous hoot from Zurie, he relieved this owl of his letter and sent it on its way. He broke the seal on the message and scanned across the familiar handwriting. A small pang of guilt hit him, realizing he had not rightly said hello to his friend since being there, but things had been… Crazy, to say the least. This, however, was a call for aid, and one Alaric would answer.

As the students finally went to bed, he would grab a scroll out of his desk and make his way down the west tower. As he walked along the corridors to the Headmaster’s office, he wondered how many people would show up tonight. Ascending the steps, he heard a female’s voice, and it was one he vaguely recognized as another professor. Alaric had not precisely done an excellent job at socializing with his peers as from day one, he never had time to relax or so it seemed.

Breeching the doorway, his dark vermillion eyes scanned the room. The care of magical creature professor a gruff looking man, who looked far older than Alaric suspected he was. The woman he now recognized as the Muggle Studies Professor and his old friend Caradoc Browne. “Good evening, old friend. And good evening, everyone else.” His warm, velvety voice echoed unexpectantly off of the walls of the empty room. No portraits, broken desk, a hearth full of ash spilling out into the room, only a few curiosities left. “It would appear something has happened indeed. This office is but a shell not even touched by the castle elves.” He mused as he looked around the mostly empty office, taking in what he could. Taking a few steps towards Caradoc and Maya, he extended a scroll to his old school time friend. “You calling this meeting reminded me that when I was promoted to Head of House, my owl from the Headmaster was… Odd. I was expecting the part about taking care of my kind, but the last bit is what threw me. I think I was too busy then and cast it aside as just me being odd, but now that you have called us here, I find it to be relevant.”

Elliot is a man of routine. Coffee and the paper in the morning, a quick bite for lunch, and always a hearty meal for supper in the Great Hall to end his day. This day would be no different for the middle aged wizard as he returned to his office with a full belly. However, as he sat down to go over some lesson plans, he noticed a unopened letter had been placed on his desk. A quick examination would identify Caradoc Browne as the author and the title would simply say, “We need to talk.”

Understatement of the year award goes to...

Elliot’s eyes stayed fixed on the title as the memories of that dreaded night returned to his mind. His hand drifted to his chest to gently touch the area that now sported a nasty scar as he thought. The half giant had transformed into her true and terrifying self as the very woods around them lashed out in a violent frenzy. Had it not been for his colleagues, Elliot would surely have died that night. He had not found the right time to sit down with the two of them to discuss what had happened.

However, as he read on, it would seem that Caradoc’s main concern as of now was the fact that still no one had seen or heard from Headmaster Lear since the attack. A sense of dread tore its way through Elliot’s body as he made for Lear’s office. He didn’t know the man all too well, but he at least seemed passionate about the care of the students. His unexplained disappearance and absence could only spell doom. 

As Elliot entered the office, he would be met by a small group that had beaten him there. “Good evening, everyone.” He would address them with a polite nod. Professor Griffith has chosen to stand to the side, back against the wall as he was occupied with something in his pocket. The behavior may seem strange, but Elliot did not know him well. Besides brewing the Wolfsbane Potion for him to administer, the two rarely interacted. 

Besides Caradoc, they were also joined by Professor Galim and the newly appointed Ravenclaw Head of House, Alaric Equinox. Elliot couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. Besides being easy to spot in her custom red robes and the fact that Alaric was a Dhampir, he barely knew his colleagues. However, it was not the time for such things.

“That does seem to be the case.” Elliot agreed with Alaric as they answered Maya’s question. With a quick adjustment of his glasses, he would read the letter Professor Equinox presented. “I see what you mean. That surely does sound foreboding now that we know Lear is missing and the school was attacked.” His eyes would shift back to Caradoc for a moment before continuing. “There is...something else as well. Professor Browne, would you like to tell them about the Hag, or shall I?”

The first footsteps arrived mere seconds after he had sat down. None other than the Care of Magical Creatures showed up first. Before Caradoc could utter a word he mentioned something about his ants and dove off to the side of the office. The man was rough with social skills as far as he'd gathered. But talking to ants was either a poor excuse or a peculiar talent. Browne did not care however, he was meant to inform and gather information. If a professor prefered to stand aside and listen, then by all means. As long as they let others work without hinder.

Maya followed soon after, still wearing her distinct cloak they all knew her by. Her head seemed full of questions as she entered. Requesting answers on Solomon's presence at once. "Please have a seat, Maya." Caradoc adressed calmly. His tone would be patient but sufficient enough to hand her the message he'd wait until more arrived to discuss their plans.

The next to enter was someone oddly familiar to the Head of Hufflepuff. It had been years since they would have openly talked like this. And while both had been active in their respective roles for a bit now, neither had taken the time to find the other. Caradoc rose to his feet to greet his old friend, who instead presented him with a scroll. The badger couldn't help but smirk a little as the other's voice brought him back to the years of their youth. "Certainly Alaric. Lets have a look.." His eyes darted around the words written across the paper. Halting at the final sentence.

A pair of spectacles would appear by Caradoc's shoulders who he would assume to be no other than the potions professor. "Elliot, glad you could make it." While Alaric's appearance had brought distant memories of joy to him, Elliot's did something quite different. A flash of green would almost be visibly flashing in his clear blue eyes. For a second he simply stared as he saw the old colleague's mouth move but there was no sound to listen to. An eery silence overwhelmed the Head of Hufflepuff before he finally snapped back to reality.

"...or shall I?” Elliot finished.

"Ehem... Yes... No! Best to wait. Others may still come. It's only recently been curfew, there's still time." He attempted a smile but it was rather diagonally diveded into something of a grimace. He handed the letter back to Alaric and folded both hands behind his back. "I'm sure the others won't be long. Otherwise... we'll have to do with what we got."

She'd heard that Hogwarts looked smaller from the outside, but Rosalind was only now becoming aware of the true extent of the castle's size. The Slytherin common room and the office of her Head of House were tucked away deep in the castle's basements. It offered an appreciable sinister ambiance to the whole House, but the journey made each step up the Divination stairwell seem twice as steep. She'd have to make each visit worth the trip.

The rest awarded to her for the dizzying slog up the spiraling staircase of the North Tower was brief. Incense burned her nose, the scent still clinging to the heavy fabrics left behind by the previous professor. While she'd been gone, curfew had come, and a letter was waiting on the round table. Paperwork, she had presumed. She bit on her tongue as she unrolled the parchment and read the message, her legs still burning with the strain of a journey up the stairwell. Her panic turned the 5 minute walk into a 3 minute scramble, the beat of her racing heart scolding her for ignoring the apparently urgent missive. She searched her mind for an excuse as to why she'd be late to her very first staff meeting - troublesome visions? Omens of death? Traffic?

"I'm sure the others won't be long..."

The new professor arrived right on cue, stalling her heavy breaths with a single deep intake of air to recover her stamina. She held for a moment and nodded to Caradoc, then to the rest of the professors. The weariness in her voice was poorly concealed.

"Sorry I'm late..." Anyone who didn't know the new professor would be American would know it the moment she spoke. Boston had a distinct sound, and the accent was no different in Salem.

Assembling a mental catalogue of the other staff present, she took note of their features, making a snap judgement on each one. A sinister fellow with his hand stuck in his pocket. A stylish, long-haired gentleman. A bookish one with glasses. Red-cloaked girl. The final face was Caradoc Browne - the leader of the meeting, it would seem. It struck her that the grey-bearded face of the Headmaster did not stand among them, the one person with whom she'd spoken in depth.

Rosalind pursed her lips and pressed her tongue against her cheek for a moment, analyzing the situation. A moment of quiet reminded her that the other professors would likely not be well-informed of her arrival, especially if the Headmaster was on an unexpected leave of absence.

"Professor of Divination Rosalind Kibitzer, pleasure to meet you," she offered in a quick declaration, before stepping aside to allow in any other late arrivals. She looked to Caradoc, remaining silent with the expectation that the situation would soon be laid out before her.

Her steps echoed in the quiet of the dungeons as she marched through it. She did not like the idea of being away from the Slytherin common room, not even for a moment. These students had just gone through hell and it was definitely not going to get any easier or any better for them. As long as she was away, they were in danger. But she had to trust in the prefects. She had to leave the common room to them long enough to get to the meeting. Caradoc's owl, asking her to come to this meeting, could not have come at a better time. 

For perhaps the first time in a long time, Hjørdis did not have a face full of makeup nor was she massively overdressed for the occasion. She was wearing a pair of jeans with a white shirt with stripes and boots, with little to no jewellery on. Her hair was up in a bun, not bothering to do anything fancy with it and her wand was visibly on display - which it usually was not.

Hjørdis entered the room shortly, as the newest faculty member introduced herself. "I cannot stay long." Her tone was cold, sharp and undeniably emotional. It was hard to say what emotion it is. Impatience, perhaps. It could be irritation, like she usually felt. There were too many emotions to pin down. However, Hjørdis was incredibly frustrated at the situation. Her anger was indescribable, at the moment. She was well aware that she was not being polite or patient but the Slytherin Head of House had something far more important than manners to attend to. She had to make sure her students were safe.

"My students are still recovering." Hjørdis had no idea why what happened actually happened. All she knew was that her Slytherin were not safe. None of the students in the castle were, to be honest. Until they could figure out what was going on and who was causing it, no one was safe. There was no way to prevent something when you are unsure of the reason why. All she knew was that she came back to the common room after a night of patrolling to find the place in utter chaos. Their bodies were not the only thing that suffered an injury that night. No child should ever have to go through something like that. She was not sure how strong they were but these times would be the test of that. 

Most people ought to have been aware of the situation by now. However, for the benefit of those unaware - like the new Divination professor that might not have been informed - she continued, "There was an attack on the Slytherin common room. Coincidentally the same time I was out patrolling the grounds." She did not trust in coincidences. Everything seemed so well timed. It started after she left, she witnessed none of it but as she stepped in, there were no traces of the attackers left.  It had not been long since the incident and some students were still in the hospital wing recovering. Despite her feelings, her face was blank. Emotionless and cold like it always was. Anyone who really knew her over the past year would see through it to know she was worried. Her words, her impatience and her lack of jewellery were all signs of this.

Time and time again things happened at Hogwarts. When she first joined, it seemed to always be the fault of one foolish child. Someone who thought it would be wise to break curfew and go out into the forbidden forest or perhaps start a fire in the middle of a ballroom. Children did stupid things. But the attack on the Slytherin Common Room was not like that. It was not a child out of control. There were spiders. She had patrolled the grounds whilst the fight was going on - she never saw a group of spiders enter the castle. How did she miss it? 

After that, she stayed silent, waiting for others to show up so they could hurry up with this meeting. Whilst she really wanted to make sure the students were safe, that was only possible if all of the staff shared information. They needed to do something, together, to stop these incidents and solve the matter. This meeting was important, she would not be here if it was not. But her heart was growing wary at the thought of being away from the students, even if it was only for a few minutes. Patience was not a virtue that the silver haired professor had today. 

Artemis sat before the fire in his quarters, brooding and dealing with his own self doubt and sadness over his loss. For most people, mourning a loss takes a short time. But for Artemis, his life was cut in half with the loss of his wife. Currently, his children were residing with his sister but he knew that come the end of the school year he would have to take up the mantle of single parenthood and deal with the helping his son through this tough time while also helping himself. Eyes narrowed at the fire before him, as if it was to blame for his woes, the man swallowed the last of his whiskey before setting the tumbler off to the side table. He would groan, lean forward, and put his head in his hands, inhaling deeply before letting his held breath out on a sobbing sigh. 

It may have been less than ten minutes before a light tapping sounded on his window and the Charms professor tried to ignore it. When the sound came twice more in an annoyingly  tap tap tap sequence, Artemis stood up and moved over to the window. Opening it, he took the letter from the owl and gave it a treat, mainly for how long he had left the creature sitting out there waiting on him. Flipping the letter over, Artemis recognized the handwriting as coming from one Caradoc Browne, and was tempted to just toss it into the flames and pretend as if it had never arrived as he continued to feel sorry for himself. But curiosity overtook the man's need to wallow in self pity as he had been very distant with his colleagues and no one ever wrote or included him in anything, even when he first joined staff, so he was genuinely curious as to what this letter could entail. He opened the envelope. 

We need to talk

Artemis thought that maybe that shouldn't be how one should titled their letters...it could mean so many other things... and Artemis' first thought was if he was in trouble with the rest of staff and was about to face an inquiry. But then he read through the letter and realized that things were much more serious than he thought it to be. He had heard about the issues within the Slytherin Common Room. He had also heard that the Gryffindors were conducting an investigation of their own pertaining to Harry Potter and the death of Delores Umbridge. However, Artemis didn't know that the Headmaster himself was missing. He had sequestered himself in his quarters for most of his days, only appearing to teach his classes. This letter was definitely a means to figure out what happened to their headmaster. 

Grabbing his robes, Artemis exited his quarters to walk the halls for the first time in many weeks and made his way up to the Headmaster's office. Entering the door, he noticed that a group of his colleagues were already present. He remembered Alaric from when the man first started and they had (somewhat) guided a group of first years across the lake for their ceremony, but other than him, Artemis didn't speak to much of anyone in the room. Seats were taken by some while others chose to stand around. Artemis himself chose to lean against the wall near the door, his arms crossed as he waited for this meeting to begin in earnest. 

Boniface didn't know if he was running late or not. The excitement of the winter, that being that Rosalind was still alive and that he was now to be a father in a few short months, had him scattered and making the appropriate arrangements. That being said, time... Well, time no longer existed to the young Scot. He simply had more important things on his mind, which was perhaps why he wasn't really sure why this meeting was called. Sure, he had been there at the Masquerade turned fire (as he later learned was a trend here at Hogwarts). And sure, maybe a fire was suspicious to an extent, but Boniface had barely batted an eye.

We need to talk.

That in itself sent shivers down Boniface's spine. So, as the young, albeit aging, man burst through the doors after having run up the stairs, the pants that made their way past his thin lips reminding him that he needed to work out more, lest he put on a dad-bod, he cleared his throat upon entrance. "Hello," He started, shifting uncomfortably for a moment as he drew attention to himself. "Professor Boniface MacTavish, for those who I haven't had the pleasure of meeting. So sorry for the late arrival," He didn't feel the need to make an excuse for himself, because he truly didn't have one other than losing track of time.

Boniface sent a nod to the new Divination professor, and then one to Maya, who he had met briefly before. Something about Caradoc's face was... Familiar. Other than him being the Head of Hufflepuff and a rather handsome professor who would have otherwise been hard to miss in a crowd. No, there was something more familiar about him than that, but Boniface couldn't put his finger on it.

"Do we know how many more will be arriving?" The Scot asked, glance shifting around the room as he noted that this was only a few of their staff members (if he were counting correctly, anyway). Still, it was something to ask in the moment, as he still wasn't caught up on the matter at hand. He didn't want to cave and admit to his ignorance, so he would sit idly by, hoping that the chatter amongst the room would be enough to get him educated. Though recognizing that this was a serious and broad topic at hand, with all due respect, Boniface's niche was really just with botany; that's all. He otherwise would have cast the situation aside, decided that it wasn't his problem and moved on, but then he was reminded that he was actually a professor here at this school and he couldn't do nothing as a potential threat, or at least a hazard, loomed over the helpless students. That snapped him back to reality.

Boniface hadn't really formally met Professor Lear. Sure, the man hired him and all, but he hadn't had a one-on-one with him or anything. The sandy-haired man felt inadequate, even, to his fellow professors (the exception being the newest Divination professor), who all seemed to have an experience with the Headmaster that would at least be beneficial. At least, that's what he assumed; he hadn't exactly asked. Still, it only felt accurate to know your boss to an extent, but Boniface felt as though he couldn't say that in any capacity.