Validation
It was a Sunday evening, the sun shown in the sky quite longer than Maya would have liked. It was daylight savings where the time sprung forward and the days were longer. It just meant more noise for a longer period of time. Perhaps for another hour or two, and then the quiet dismal sounds will take over along with a new moon, showing no signs of light outside the castle.
Within the hour, Maya was to meet with her Headmaster in his office. The last time she was there was to be hired for the job two years prior. For nearly two years, she had been a sitting duck, waiting for her moment to officially teach third years. She was often around for security and personable purposes, but teaching hadn't started just yet for her. In a way, it had made her nervous for the future to come. She was brilliant in her field-- the amount of studying through travel and reading she had done throughout the years made her ready for such a job, but would her beliefs in her curriculum match the mission statement of Hogwarts? It was time for her to get her curriculum checked and accepted by Hogwarts' Headmaster, Lear, before delving further into her drafts.
Professionalism was always important to Maya. Her body facing the full-body length mirror, she put on red lipstick. The deep crimson red that matched her signature cloak. Carefully tracing the upper lip with its soft corners with the tip of the lipstick and a strong stroke at her bottom lip. Clashing them together, she was ready.
Her right hand carries a stack of papers within a manila envelope. Each paper stating the year, lesson and description for Lear to validate. She had spent a lot of years ensuring that her muggle studdies curriculum wasn't what she grew up with: similarities and differences. Maya believed in debate and rattling the minds of young scholars. Furthermore, she believed that no one should be spoon fed information; they should find the answer from within.
Walking towards the entrance, her cloak caressing the stone floors, Maya saw that the staircase was active. It seems as though she did not need to wait for him to open the stairs or figure out the password that was given to all professors at the beginning of the school year. Step-by-step, Maya, holding onto the envelope tightly, made her way up the spiral, stone staircase and fully into Headmaster Lear's office.
Maya was nervous. She was a strong woman and often showed her strength in conversational wit. She knew she had to hide her emotions the minute she converses with Lear. The thought of showing weakness such as nerves was looked down upon by her and by her upbringing. Her father often told her that emotions was for the weak. Standing strong at all times was what she must do to be successful in this world.
"Thank you for meeting me on such short notice," she began the minute she caught sight of the Headmaster. Her accent was thick but still audible in comparison to how she spoke prior to her travel when she was younger. "I would love for you to look over my vision for Muggle Studies before drafting my lesson plans," she finished, waiting for his approval to even begin. Maybe I should have been more personable than professional at first, she thought.
Stamina: 11 || Evasion: 7 || Strength: 7 || Wisdom: 20 || ArcPower: 15 || Accuracy: 10
Validation
It was as if Solomon had forgotten about this planned meeting. The out of place Headmaster was an oddity among curiosities. Under the watchful gaze of the portraits of the former Headmasters Professor Lear was signing his name to yet another stack of papers. Professor Lear had never gotten to redecorating, the older-seeming gentleman appeared out of place in his large upholstered seat. There was a sense of formality to the setting that the Headmaster abhorred, yet the space was also full of curiosities he would not trust elsewhere.
The circular room was warmly lit under a candlelit chandelier. The sorting hat sat on a high shelf, singing to himself, otherwise the room would have been silent less the whir of unmarked and ill-defined silvery and coppery devices that stood on spindle-legged tables. The hearth had a warm, welcoming fire that crackled merrily and the room possessed this cedar scent. The only mark Solomon had made was the tiny, furry critters that scampered underfoot. The Headmaster had a soft-spot for Pygmy Puffs -- both purple and pink, and like an infestation confined to this singular space little eyes would peer around massive tomes and various mystical and mundane baubles as a Professor traversed the threshold.
Maya Galim, Professor of Muggle Studies here in Hogwarts. She was young, not that it was a bad thing, just a dangerous thing here in Hogwarts. Like many of the Professors, many had barely reached their third decade. Perhaps he was simply paranoid. Hard to please. With youth came not only a lack of experience but also a desire to buck convention, a desire to please others and to disregard what is right in favor of what is best for them. He had seen it before, when Blackburn and the others chose to keep the school open fully aware that a dangerous criminal was seen somewhere on the grounds. Even when there was evidence that the fiend had not fled the grounds, the evidence was ignored. A perennial frustration for the former Head of House who clawed his way into a seat he never desired for the sake of protecting the student body by any means necessary.
"Miss Galim," Solomon acknowledged as the cloaked woman entered the room. "Take a seat," he gestured towards a pair of open seats. The office was larger than necessary in his opinion, the type of place where secret meetings should be had rather than casual tête-à-têtes such as this.
"Thank you for meeting me on such short notice."
Her request was sudden, that was the concern. There was a knot of anxiety in the depths of his gut that he was repressing. "Not a problem Miss Galim, it is all paperwork these days so I enjoy the company," Solomon claimed as he penned his signature on yet another document and allowed the air to dry to maroon ink. "What brought you all this way?"
"I would love for you to look over my vision for Muggle Studies before drafting my lesson plans."
Plans? It could be worse he reasoned, lesson plans are not confessions of fear, admissions that something terrible was about to happen, or knowledge that the next tragedy was just around the corner. The ink dry, he rolled the scroll tightly and with a snap of his fingers a spark of fire would emit from his fingertips and heat a small eraser-sized brick of honey-colored wax. The wax would drip on the seam. A small metal stamp would gently press down on the bit of wax before it cooled leaving a symbol: a variant of the ouroboros, only a knotted dragon dragon biting his own tail rather than the circular symbol of a snake biting its own tail.
"Have you considered warning the students to avoid muggles or are you asking them to embrace the muggle way of life?" Solomon inquired as the scroll was placed in a pile with several others. "Many of our students come from mixed homes or are the first generation of wizard and witch in a number of generations," Solomon seemed to confess. "It is only the purebloods and the students who come from a long line of wizards for the past several generations that will find themselves lacking in terms of muggle experiences." What was he getting at? "This sudden influx in first generation wizards means that there is also likely an increase in the number of squibs in long-standing wizarding households," a concept of balance it would seem but what was the Headmaster getting at.
"In the coming years I have a feeling that there will be an increased need for Obliviators in the next few years," he prophesized.
The circular room was warmly lit under a candlelit chandelier. The sorting hat sat on a high shelf, singing to himself, otherwise the room would have been silent less the whir of unmarked and ill-defined silvery and coppery devices that stood on spindle-legged tables. The hearth had a warm, welcoming fire that crackled merrily and the room possessed this cedar scent. The only mark Solomon had made was the tiny, furry critters that scampered underfoot. The Headmaster had a soft-spot for Pygmy Puffs -- both purple and pink, and like an infestation confined to this singular space little eyes would peer around massive tomes and various mystical and mundane baubles as a Professor traversed the threshold.
Maya Galim, Professor of Muggle Studies here in Hogwarts. She was young, not that it was a bad thing, just a dangerous thing here in Hogwarts. Like many of the Professors, many had barely reached their third decade. Perhaps he was simply paranoid. Hard to please. With youth came not only a lack of experience but also a desire to buck convention, a desire to please others and to disregard what is right in favor of what is best for them. He had seen it before, when Blackburn and the others chose to keep the school open fully aware that a dangerous criminal was seen somewhere on the grounds. Even when there was evidence that the fiend had not fled the grounds, the evidence was ignored. A perennial frustration for the former Head of House who clawed his way into a seat he never desired for the sake of protecting the student body by any means necessary.
"Miss Galim," Solomon acknowledged as the cloaked woman entered the room. "Take a seat," he gestured towards a pair of open seats. The office was larger than necessary in his opinion, the type of place where secret meetings should be had rather than casual tête-à-têtes such as this.
"Thank you for meeting me on such short notice."
Her request was sudden, that was the concern. There was a knot of anxiety in the depths of his gut that he was repressing. "Not a problem Miss Galim, it is all paperwork these days so I enjoy the company," Solomon claimed as he penned his signature on yet another document and allowed the air to dry to maroon ink. "What brought you all this way?"
"I would love for you to look over my vision for Muggle Studies before drafting my lesson plans."
Plans? It could be worse he reasoned, lesson plans are not confessions of fear, admissions that something terrible was about to happen, or knowledge that the next tragedy was just around the corner. The ink dry, he rolled the scroll tightly and with a snap of his fingers a spark of fire would emit from his fingertips and heat a small eraser-sized brick of honey-colored wax. The wax would drip on the seam. A small metal stamp would gently press down on the bit of wax before it cooled leaving a symbol: a variant of the ouroboros, only a knotted dragon dragon biting his own tail rather than the circular symbol of a snake biting its own tail.
"Have you considered warning the students to avoid muggles or are you asking them to embrace the muggle way of life?" Solomon inquired as the scroll was placed in a pile with several others. "Many of our students come from mixed homes or are the first generation of wizard and witch in a number of generations," Solomon seemed to confess. "It is only the purebloods and the students who come from a long line of wizards for the past several generations that will find themselves lacking in terms of muggle experiences." What was he getting at? "This sudden influx in first generation wizards means that there is also likely an increase in the number of squibs in long-standing wizarding households," a concept of balance it would seem but what was the Headmaster getting at.
"In the coming years I have a feeling that there will be an increased need for Obliviators in the next few years," he prophesized.
There is something about ambition, how it not only propels you but also defines you.
Validation
Although a tad bit nervous to be in a meeting with the Head of the School, Maya surely did not show it. Her face was as poker face as it was going to get. A game, she believed, she would succeed in-- however, gambling was not a game she would play.
For an older man, he sure can multitask, Maya thought, seeing Solomon Lear handle their meeting with grace while conducting various types of paperwork, whether it was to give out his signature or seal important documents. To Maya, multitasking was a quality of power for they are able to handle more than one thing at a time. A quality that was at the utmost attractive.
"Have you considered warning the students to avoid muggles or are you asking them to embrace the muggle way of life?"
The ever, so popular question. The wizarding world is split when it comes to the perspective of muggles. Maya was about to reply to Lear's question when he quickly seemed to confess his own views. It had only made her smile. This meeting had now gone political.
"Many of our students come from mixed homes or are the first generation of wizard and witch in a number of generations. It is only the purebloods and the students who come from a long line of wizards for the past several generations that will find themselves lacking in terms of muggle experiences. This sudden influx in first generation wizards means that there is also likely an increase in the number of squibs in long-standing wizarding households."
Finally, a pause. It was her turn.
"With all due respect, Headmaster, but Squibs are not the reason for mixed households. If I am not mistaken, Squibs are classified as Wizard-Born Muggles if they have at least one magical parent," she said, her Israeli accent thick.
"As for what I aim for in my classroom is to embrace muggle culture and be fully aware of their way of life. We are at a point in time that avoidance of the muggles and their world is outdated," she added. Maya could care less about the Purebloods that roam the school. If they had a problem with Muggle Studies that was on them and their family. She did enjoy, however, the Purebloods who take Muggle Studies as their elective to try to demonize muggles. It always becomes a fun challenge to change their minds by the end of the academic year.
"Hmm," she paused, thinking about his prophecy in regards to more Obliviators. She whole-heartedly disagreed with him and was not scared to confess her thoughts. "Your assumption is inadequate," she added, crossing her left leg over her right, her scarlet red robe shifting, showing some of her leg up to her mid-thigh.
Stamina: 11 || Evasion: 7 || Strength: 7 || Wisdom: 20 || ArcPower: 15 || Accuracy: 10
Validation
"With all due respect, Headmaster, but Squibs are not the reason for mixed households. If I am not mistaken, Squibs are classified as Wizard-Born Muggles if they have at least one magical parent,"
She was right of course, a squib is defined as a child begotten of at least one magical parent. However it was uncommon that a wizard found love with a muggle. There were a number of reasons for this ranging from walking different life paths to genetic preservation. Genetics were a science that wizards did not study, dependent wholly on magic where muggles relied on technology to keep themselves out of the dark ages. At this fork, men like Solomon who came from a long line of wizards could hardly fathom the concept of a viewing box or a writing press.
Solomon nodded his head in agreement. "Possibly," he admitted. "But it has been a long-held fear that every generation of muggle in ones bloodline weakens that blood," Solomon warned. It was a source of great animosity, 'blood traitors' that is who chose to make a union with a muggle or a more dilute line. For some wizards, pedigree was everything.
"As for what I aim for in my classroom is to embrace muggle culture and be fully aware of their way of life. We are at a point in time that avoidance of the muggles and their world is outdated."
She claimed, making it sound as if muggles were more than a trivial curiosity. "Many of the pureblood children in this school have never spoken to a true muggle," Solomon warned "and parents speak of squibs like some would the boogieman." The parents would likely prove to be Miss Galim's harshest critics. Children these days had more freedom than their parents, they allowed children to essentially raise themselves. Without their caregivers guidance and loose lips, the reckless behavior that often accompanies a young age would result in oversharing and thoughtless demonstrations of their magical potential.
"Hmm... Your assumption is inadequate."
She disagreed. When did a woman ever agree with Lear? Never. He would notice the view of flesh as she crossed her legs, parting her robe revealing to her mid thigh. Lear instinctively looked up. At the ceiling up, just in case. Was she naked under there? Oh Merlin, not prepared for this! "Ah-hem," he coughed with flushed cheeks. Didn't Professor Galim and former Deputy Caterez Caverez have a thing. What ever happened to him? Think other thoughts... A goblin in a bikini. Uhhh... A house elf with... Caverez (he could not spell that name even in his imagination) twerking. OK, mind is pure! Mind is better! "The students might be interested in a trip field... I mean field trip to see real muggles," he suggested. There was something he wanted to say, it was actually important. It was definitely not a field trip, that was just a blunder to fill in time as he gears of his mind turned and he tried to remember. Eureka! "Just be careful, there are a few squib and muggle rights movements, a few of them have been gaining traction and they can be just as bad as the pure-bloods. You will find yourself in the middle."
She was right of course, a squib is defined as a child begotten of at least one magical parent. However it was uncommon that a wizard found love with a muggle. There were a number of reasons for this ranging from walking different life paths to genetic preservation. Genetics were a science that wizards did not study, dependent wholly on magic where muggles relied on technology to keep themselves out of the dark ages. At this fork, men like Solomon who came from a long line of wizards could hardly fathom the concept of a viewing box or a writing press.
Solomon nodded his head in agreement. "Possibly," he admitted. "But it has been a long-held fear that every generation of muggle in ones bloodline weakens that blood," Solomon warned. It was a source of great animosity, 'blood traitors' that is who chose to make a union with a muggle or a more dilute line. For some wizards, pedigree was everything.
"As for what I aim for in my classroom is to embrace muggle culture and be fully aware of their way of life. We are at a point in time that avoidance of the muggles and their world is outdated."
She claimed, making it sound as if muggles were more than a trivial curiosity. "Many of the pureblood children in this school have never spoken to a true muggle," Solomon warned "and parents speak of squibs like some would the boogieman." The parents would likely prove to be Miss Galim's harshest critics. Children these days had more freedom than their parents, they allowed children to essentially raise themselves. Without their caregivers guidance and loose lips, the reckless behavior that often accompanies a young age would result in oversharing and thoughtless demonstrations of their magical potential.
"Hmm... Your assumption is inadequate."
She disagreed. When did a woman ever agree with Lear? Never. He would notice the view of flesh as she crossed her legs, parting her robe revealing to her mid thigh. Lear instinctively looked up. At the ceiling up, just in case. Was she naked under there? Oh Merlin, not prepared for this! "Ah-hem," he coughed with flushed cheeks. Didn't Professor Galim and former Deputy Caterez Caverez have a thing. What ever happened to him? Think other thoughts... A goblin in a bikini. Uhhh... A house elf with... Caverez (he could not spell that name even in his imagination) twerking. OK, mind is pure! Mind is better! "The students might be interested in a trip field... I mean field trip to see real muggles," he suggested. There was something he wanted to say, it was actually important. It was definitely not a field trip, that was just a blunder to fill in time as he gears of his mind turned and he tried to remember. Eureka! "Just be careful, there are a few squib and muggle rights movements, a few of them have been gaining traction and they can be just as bad as the pure-bloods. You will find yourself in the middle."
There is something about ambition, how it not only propels you but also defines you.
Validation
Maya could not help but to have a small smile on her face the minute her Headmaster had looked up to the ceiling when her leg had shown. Was he uncomfortable? To Maya, it seemed more like a challenge. She wasn't entirely interested in the Headmaster, but for him to look up meant that there could be of some interest, at least she thought, but he was staying professional. Maya uncrossed her legs where her robe had shifted back into place and her legs were covered.
"But it has been a long-held fear that every generation of muggle in ones bloodline weakens that blood."
Their political talk had now gone personal. Did he know who she was? Maya, a product of muggles was considered weak. It was a sore subject for her considering that her father never found her to be strong. He was obviously wrong as Maya was a very head-strong individual. But bloodline? She could never change something like that as it can never be something to strengthen.
"Do you find me weak, Headmaster?" she asked emphasizing 'weak' whilst putting him on the spot. Maya enjoyed a bit of confrontation when needed and due to this personal attack, which he probably meant no harm, she was looking forward to his response.
Moments later, he had then mentioned about a field trip and it perked Maya's interest. It was a grand idea and to get it approved by the Headmaster meant that there was enough money in their budget for such a field trip.
"How long would this proposed field trip be? What does our budget look like?" she asked, racking idea after idea. One thing she did not want them to see were the typical European Muggles. They see them nearly all the time and it wouldn't give a first-time experience. However, if the muggles were different... If they showed a different culture from the muggles they were used to, then that culture shock would make an impact. "And how far from the school can we travel?"
Next would be chaperones. It was nice that her class was an elective class limited to just third years and higher. She did not need many chaperones-- in any case, she only needed one. Maya, who was staring off to the side thinking brought back her focus towards the Headmaster. Perfect, she thought.
"I'll be needing at least one chaperone during the field trip and it will be you," she said, her voice entirely direct and nonchalantly commanding. "Students of all backgrounds need to see their Headmaster participate in occasional field trips, but even so, students with a muggle-born background whether it be their parents or themselves would need the support from you," she explained. She then took her hand and caressed them on her lips while thinking. She smiled at the man before her. "I also think you have a lot to learn yourself," she added.
"Just be careful, there are a few squib and muggle rights movements, a few of them have been gaining traction and they can be just as bad as the pure-bloods. You will find yourself in the middle."
Maya had heard of the many movements that were happening in Europe between the two factions. It had saddened her that in the year 2019, nearing 2020, there were still riots and movements that needed to take place for equality among different bloodlines. Finding herself in the middle ringed in her ear, creating an echo. No matter how, she would always find herself in the middle. It was what made her a skilled professor and in turn, an intellectual as a magic-folk at best. "Thank you for your warning, but I am not afraid of a little war. I've been in and seen worse," she said, reminding herself of the time in the Israeli Defense Force where she had witnessed the death of her dearly beloved friends and have done killings herself.
Stamina: 11 || Evasion: 7 || Strength: 7 || Wisdom: 20 || ArcPower: 15 || Accuracy: 10
Validation
Maya did not understand where Solomon was coming from, how could she? His only legitimate child was just a squib. Not to say that he did not care for the boy, but there was a sense of disappointment. This knowledge that the boy was just born wrong. Some might find his perspective cruel, perhaps even outdated. That was why he rarely admitted to it, at least directly. Every parent wants what is best for their child. Every parent wants their son or daughter to be able to experience the life that they know and that they understand; to be able to choose their own path if they wanted to abandon their proud legacy. Squibs did not have a choice. There was this large part of Solomon's life that his son would never be able to touch. He hated to admit it but that was why his daughter was his favorite. He could share his world with her but never his son, not that he did not want to. Not that he did not try.
Every single union and every single child in Solomon's genealogy was accounted for. Not a single one of them was a squib. He wondered where the break was in the family tree. Who lied. Who was the product of an ill-gotten union? Had he done something wrong? While illogical there was a part of him that wondered if this was how the universe repaid him for the many wrongs he had committed. The lies. The dalliances. The unsupportable ego. His daughter dead, his son and wife estranged for years. He did blame her, it was easier. A rare full-blooded (so he thought) vampire, a capable caster and quite lovely he was a fool and utterly enamored with her. He never considered the possibility that she was simply a liar. She was a liar and a cheat in her own way, although he never knew that. As far as he was aware it was his transgressions that resulted in the collapse of their union and his departure from the limelight.
The truth was: if muggle blood had not somehow crept into the bloodline, his son would have been a wizard. They long ago escaped the dark ages where everything was based on ritual and superstition, there was a logical reason for squibs being born and it was more than random happenstance.
"Do you find me weak, Headmaster?"
"No, not at all," Solomon replied politely. Blood was a sensitive topic, not that he could blame her or anyone for that matter. "You are absolutely terrifying," he smiled. He was not really lying there.
"How long would this proposed field trip be? What does our budget look like?"
That turned a hypothetical into a jumbled mess of confusion almost immediately. "I-- uh," he had no idea.
"And how far from the school can we travel?"
The world was a big, confusing muggle-filled place. Solomon had no idea, he avoided the muggle lands whenever he could like most wizards did. The limitations on their magic was far too taxing. In fact, it was unsafe. Magical communities were tucked within muggle neighborhoods, however men such as Solomon simply used the floo network. "Floo powder is cheap?" He offered, an upward inflection of his voice suggesting an uncertainty. "And muggle communities are merely meters past the fringe of our bubbles, through the veil... You should be able to find --places" he was really not entirely certain what interesting muggle places there might have been. His grades in Muggle Studies was admittedly poor [P] as a student in Hogwarts in the 1990's. "My fireplace is the only fireplace in Hogwarts that is connected to the floo network, it should--"
"I'll be needing at least one chaperone during the field trip and it will be you."
Professor Galim announced and Solomon had an internal sense of dread. Not of the woman, there was the whole death by a Spaniard or some silly-accented country-man but Sebastian had wandered off some time ago, likely with some woman. He assumed that Professor Cazerez and Galim had a thing. To be fair, he suspected that man-whore (sorry Seb I love/hate you) had a thing with just about every female Professor on campus. Solomon was more concerned with having to deal with muggles. Their world seemed absolutely awful. No House Elves. They had to rub sticks to make fires. Blow into large bits of brass to make beautiful music. Places got dark and sometimes they would illuminate the room with lightning they trapped within the confines of tiny bits of glass. It seemed dangerous.
"Students of all backgrounds need to see their Headmaster participate in occasional field trips, but even so, students with a muggle-born background whether it be their parents or themselves would need the support from you."
Maya continued on. Solomon would rather duel an irate manticore in his boxers. But Maya was pretty. Wait, no. Sebastian.
"I also think you have a lot to learn yourself."
She had no idea...
"Sounds like a great idea," the words escaped from his mouth before his brain could stop them with logic. Poop! Damn you brain of man!
He tried to back out of it, mention the Squib rights movements. The inherent danger that might wait them as they cross between the wizarding world and the non-magical world.
"Thank you for your warning, but I am not afraid of a little war. I've been in and seen worse."
Both Solomon and Maya truly had no idea what was in store for them. Solomon was right to worry about those movements, they were more dangerous than any metallic automotive monstrosity. Solomon was still looking up, he did not know for certain that it was safe to look down so he would do so slowly. "I am certain" he moved his head down a bit further "that they would" he reached a neutral point with his gaze once again "have their hands full with you Miss Galim."
Thank Merlin, he was safe.
"Thank you for coming," and giving a poor man confusing feelings.
Every single union and every single child in Solomon's genealogy was accounted for. Not a single one of them was a squib. He wondered where the break was in the family tree. Who lied. Who was the product of an ill-gotten union? Had he done something wrong? While illogical there was a part of him that wondered if this was how the universe repaid him for the many wrongs he had committed. The lies. The dalliances. The unsupportable ego. His daughter dead, his son and wife estranged for years. He did blame her, it was easier. A rare full-blooded (so he thought) vampire, a capable caster and quite lovely he was a fool and utterly enamored with her. He never considered the possibility that she was simply a liar. She was a liar and a cheat in her own way, although he never knew that. As far as he was aware it was his transgressions that resulted in the collapse of their union and his departure from the limelight.
The truth was: if muggle blood had not somehow crept into the bloodline, his son would have been a wizard. They long ago escaped the dark ages where everything was based on ritual and superstition, there was a logical reason for squibs being born and it was more than random happenstance.
"Do you find me weak, Headmaster?"
"No, not at all," Solomon replied politely. Blood was a sensitive topic, not that he could blame her or anyone for that matter. "You are absolutely terrifying," he smiled. He was not really lying there.
"How long would this proposed field trip be? What does our budget look like?"
That turned a hypothetical into a jumbled mess of confusion almost immediately. "I-- uh," he had no idea.
"And how far from the school can we travel?"
The world was a big, confusing muggle-filled place. Solomon had no idea, he avoided the muggle lands whenever he could like most wizards did. The limitations on their magic was far too taxing. In fact, it was unsafe. Magical communities were tucked within muggle neighborhoods, however men such as Solomon simply used the floo network. "Floo powder is cheap?" He offered, an upward inflection of his voice suggesting an uncertainty. "And muggle communities are merely meters past the fringe of our bubbles, through the veil... You should be able to find --places" he was really not entirely certain what interesting muggle places there might have been. His grades in Muggle Studies was admittedly poor [P] as a student in Hogwarts in the 1990's. "My fireplace is the only fireplace in Hogwarts that is connected to the floo network, it should--"
"I'll be needing at least one chaperone during the field trip and it will be you."
Professor Galim announced and Solomon had an internal sense of dread. Not of the woman, there was the whole death by a Spaniard or some silly-accented country-man but Sebastian had wandered off some time ago, likely with some woman. He assumed that Professor Cazerez and Galim had a thing. To be fair, he suspected that man-whore (sorry Seb I love/hate you) had a thing with just about every female Professor on campus. Solomon was more concerned with having to deal with muggles. Their world seemed absolutely awful. No House Elves. They had to rub sticks to make fires. Blow into large bits of brass to make beautiful music. Places got dark and sometimes they would illuminate the room with lightning they trapped within the confines of tiny bits of glass. It seemed dangerous.
"Students of all backgrounds need to see their Headmaster participate in occasional field trips, but even so, students with a muggle-born background whether it be their parents or themselves would need the support from you."
Maya continued on. Solomon would rather duel an irate manticore in his boxers. But Maya was pretty. Wait, no. Sebastian.
"I also think you have a lot to learn yourself."
She had no idea...
"Sounds like a great idea," the words escaped from his mouth before his brain could stop them with logic. Poop! Damn you brain of man!
He tried to back out of it, mention the Squib rights movements. The inherent danger that might wait them as they cross between the wizarding world and the non-magical world.
"Thank you for your warning, but I am not afraid of a little war. I've been in and seen worse."
Both Solomon and Maya truly had no idea what was in store for them. Solomon was right to worry about those movements, they were more dangerous than any metallic automotive monstrosity. Solomon was still looking up, he did not know for certain that it was safe to look down so he would do so slowly. "I am certain" he moved his head down a bit further "that they would" he reached a neutral point with his gaze once again "have their hands full with you Miss Galim."
Thank Merlin, he was safe.
"Thank you for coming," and giving a poor man confusing feelings.
There is something about ambition, how it not only propels you but also defines you.
Validation
ReducioApologies for the late reply @Solomon Lear
A man of only forty-five years old, and he looked much older. Maya was taught that the older a man looks, the more baggage they carry. Their past haunts them, increasing their age by tenfold. Sometimes their worries are small, but then there are times where their worries are grand and are unable to be shrugged off the shoulders. It was clear from Lear's appearance, he perhaps had the latter. But in any case, that never stopped Maya from what she was attracted to.
"You are absolutely terrifying."
Maya could not help but to smile at such a compliment. She never means to be terrifying, but her confrontational attitude towards others is not expected in many parts of the world. Most people beat around the bush, use politically correct verbiage, or stay silent of their thoughts if they found it to be offensive to another. Not Maya. She came from a culture where you must speak your mind, no matter how difficult it may be for the other person. This is what scared most people-- including her students.
"And muggle communities are merely meters past the fringe of our bubbles, through the veil... You should be able to find --places."
Cheap. He was by far going to ensure that the field trip was as cheap as possible. It was not unheard of. Most schools can never afford field trips of their own. If there ever were field trips, they were sponsored by companies or they were given grants from the government. But a school like Hogwarts, the way they accumulate their money is perhaps quite different.
"I'll turn in paperwork about the trip as soon as possible. It will be aimed for the second semester of the year," she said, flatly. She figured it would be boring to just have them go mere inches outside the borders of the Wizarding World. They needed to explore and travel. But rather her own input, she thought it a great idea for the students to choose their adventure. It would be perhaps a great autonomy for the children and will want them to learn about muggles through their own decisions.
The best part, however, was having Lear chaperone the field trip with her. The little girl inside of her was giddy, however the woman part of her had a sense of relief. Yes, Maya was beyond attracted to her Headmaster, but that was just the physical aspect of the man. She only knew the fresh layer of personality of the man and was dying to know more. What best way to do that, than to have a one on one trip together. Granted, they will have to watch over the children, but there were always after hours.
"I am sure that they will have their hands full with you Miss Galim."
She knew exactly what he had meant, but her mind traced elsewhere for a split second. Biting her bottom lip, she couldn't help but to smile, thinking. I can have your hands full right now. She wondered if he was just as interested in her as she was of him. He did seem flustered, but alas, she can never be so sure of what he or anyone else truly thinks.
Her mind came back into reality when he had thanked her for coming in. It was a cue that she should be leaving, and it was one that she respected, but tested the boundaries ever so slightly.
"I could leave, but you look so tense," she paused, standing up slowly and placing both her hands on the edge of the table, slightly leaning towards him, "anything I can do to help you feel more relaxed?" she asked, her eyes searching into his for what she hoped he would say the "correct" answer.
Stamina: 11 || Evasion: 7 || Strength: 7 || Wisdom: 20 || ArcPower: 15 || Accuracy: 10