NOW HIRING: HEADS OF HOUSE!
Note: The IC date range for this thread is Oct 20 to Oct 31. The out of character date range to complete this for errand rewards is from now (today) until Nov. 2.With the sudden resignation of all four House Heads and the Deputy Headmistress, Hogwarts is seeking fresh faces, or suspiciously familiar ones, to step into the castle's most iconic roles.
Whether you're a Ministry darling, an eccentric scholar, a scandal-prone alumnus, or just someone who once caused a minor fire in the Potions Wing, you're invited back to Hogwarts for an interview with Headmaster Lear. The Daily Prophet has covered the sudden dismissal, removal or unified step down of these academic administrators heavily over the past week. It is well known, even on the international front, that Hogwarts is looking to hire several new staff members.
IC, this is a chance to step into the halls once more (or for the first time) and share your philosophy, your approach to leadership, or just why you think Ravenclaws need more midnight dueling.
OOC, we already know who will take on the roles, this is purely a flavorful, character-building errand that lets you earn 1 Galleon and possibly lay seeds for future arcs.
"Legacy is not about who came before. It’s about who dares to return."
➤ Post your IC interview below using the starter below or your own spin!Use one or more of these questions in your post (or let them emerge naturally as dialogue). They offer depth, humor, and drama for players:The gargoyle borrowed from Herbology’s greenhouse at the base of the moving spiral staircase had said nothing, but shifted with unnerving speed when the password was spoken: “Coriander scones.”
The grey stone staircase rose in a smooth spiral and deposited each candidate outside the door to the Headmaster’s office, newly adorned with banners from all four Houses. The doorframe had the scar of an old injury from years earlier. It would appear that the doorframe was never wholly repaired. Someone had even brewed fresh tea. The scent of cinnamon, cloves and ink clung to the air.
Headmaster Solomon Lear stood with his back to the door, he was looking through the panes of a massive curved window, from his vantage point he could see the Black Lake and the fringe of the forest in the distance. From here, the students that wandered the grounds seemed so small, insignificant. Behind him, the portraits stirred with restless curiosity.
“Come in,” Solomon said, not bothering to turn. His voice lower than one would have expected, almost a rumbling baritone.
"Let’s talk legacy."
He faced the visitor at last, copper armor catching the afternoon light. His once blonde, now grey hair pulled back into a tie at the base of his head. He was taller than most would have assumed, his broad features seemed more indicative of a dwarf, with squared shoulders and thick limbs in spite of his allegedly advanced age. The upholstered chair opposite his desk adjusted itself slightly, magically becoming taller, shorter, warmer, depending on who approached. The Headmaster gestured for them to sit.
"Tell me," the old man said, pale blue eyes sharp but not unkind, "why would Hogwarts entrust its future to you?"
➤ "Which moment from your own schooling do you still carry with you and why?"
➤"Each House has its strengths. Tell me, what is the flaw of each house?"
➤"How would you discipline a student who breaks a rule for the right reasons?"
➤"Would you protect a student from a difficult truth or teach them how to survive it?"
➤"What does your House need right now: a shield, or a sword?"
➤“Describe the sort of student would hate your leadership and what would that say about you?"
➤"If Hogwarts were ever to fall, what or who would you save first?"
These are open-ended, and can be dramatic, personal, funny, or defiant. They’re great for character exploration. Feel free to be a great interview or (even better) a complete disaster of one. Have fun with this.
There is something about ambition, how it not only propels you but also defines you.
NOW HIRING: HEADS OF HOUSE!
Disclaimer: Elmo's behavior and drinking is simply for narrative purposes. If you have an issue, do not read.
October 20th 2025
@Solomon LearElmo was fresh to the History of Magic position, only joining less than a month before all five oldsters decided to leave. But when he saw that there was an opportunity to get a Head of House position? He had to take it. It had to be worth the try. He had a metal thermos in his hand full of clear liquid that smelled like.. well, It certainly wasn't water.
He donned his best outfit that he had even cared to find, a black robe that was heavily creased and even had a bit of fur and dirt around the base and entered with just a bit of a slur in his speech. "If Hog- Hogwarts were ta fall.." He began, contemplating the question with his voice low and rough. He opposed the Headmaster and just stared at his graying hair. Old people. He mentally scoffed.
They needed to be young and full of spirit, like him. Well, hopefully his spirit usage wasn't... noticeable. He repeated, "If Hog- Hogwarts were ta fall..." He took a long sip from the thermos, then held it up as if to toast the portraits on the wall. "I'd save my moon- moonshine before I save anyone else or anything. That's why we have professors innit? They're,, they're our sacrifice." He sneered and hiccupped. "But you want a Head a House that will teach students how ta survive a destroyed or war ridden Hogwarts? You're looking at em." He took another swig and felt his heart pump a little harder and a little faster. He turned his pointer finger of his free hand towards himself and jabbed his chest.
He scoffed, verbally this time, rolling his eyes. "But if I had ta choose someone ta save? Jus the Hufflepuffs. They don't deserve none o this."
October 20th 2025
You've gotta break some eggs to make an omlette, something something.
NOW HIRING: HEADS OF HOUSE!
If you would have me lead, know this: I do not promise peace. I promise order. I do not promise comfort. I promise legacy.
There comes a time in every age when the blood must remember from what vein it thrives. Names of great houses, once avatars of power and intent have shattered. Lost to time, bloodline dilution and compromise, the legacy of the elder blood has been lost to modern tongues. The Athanatos name was not born of comfort or chance, it was forged in prophecy, sealed in vision, and tempered by sacrifice. The Athanatos' are not heirs of mere fortune, they are the architects of fate.
For too long, Thaddeus had watched their people, his people bend to the weakness of convenience. He have seen heirs crumble, sons falter, and daughters fade beneath the pretense of progress, equity and alleged change. He had watched those who carry the name Athanatos forget that wizards were not meant to blend with the world, they were meant to rule it.
________________________
The door closed behind Thaddeus Athanatos with the soft inevitability of an axe on an executioner's block.
Thaddeus Athanatos did not bow. He did not even pause. His presence filled the room the way winter fills a valley: quietly, completely, and without the need for permission. Winter finds a way of getting into the deepest bones, drawing strength and testing the endurance of men.
The scent of cinnamon and ink did not comfort Thaddeus; it reminded him of classrooms, of parchment, of lesser men hiding behind the pretense of learning. His pale eyes flicked once toward the window, the Black Lake rippling under the wind and greying autumnal skies before they settled upon Headmaster Solomon Lear himself.
The chair, obedient to its enchantments, began to adjust for him. But the man stopped it with a glance. "I prefer to stand," Thaddeus said. His voice was not loud, but it somehow resonated. Each syllable landed like a seal pressed into wax, power and authority are not skills learned but rather power expressed.
Thaddeus’s boots made no sound on the floor. He did not bow. "Legacy is a conversation, Headmaster," the old wizard said, his voice a low current. Why did he seem even older than the weathered visage before him? "But not one held between men. It is spoken between blood and time."
"Legacy," Thaddeus repeated softly, tasting the word, but he found the flavor unappealing. Like old leather being called steak. "Most who sit in your chair speak instead of progress," a word that seemed to have a similar flavor he observed. His eyes swept the room: the banners, the portraits, the ghosts of history straining to listen. "But you Solomon are wiser than that. You know Hogwarts does not move forward. It turns, as all wheels do, and those who believe themselves at its center are soon crushed beneath its rim."
The words were a statement that he understood, no... he knew what had happened to the heads of house. Thaddeus took a single step closer, the light from the window cutting across the sigils embroidered into his cloak. Some runes of protection, others strength, deception, illusion.
"You should entrust Hogwart's future to me," Thaddeus continued as though reciting a prophecy. "I do not deal in optimism or sentiment. While others mold minds to the fashion of the day, I shape lineage. When the Ministry collapses, and it will if I am not at the helm, when nations fall to dust and the world forgets its own language of power, it will be the wizarding bloodlines that I preserve that remember what it means to be wizard."
“Why should Hogwarts entrust its future to you?”
“Entrust,” he echoed. “You speak as if the future belongs to you to give.”
The air thickened. Even the tea cooled in its cup. Thaddeus’s gaze flicked to the banners: the crimson of Gryffindor, the emerald of Slytherin, the azure of Ravenclaw, and the gold of Hufflepuff, hues that should seem vibrant had become dull by the fading light. How queer that all of them, all four heads of house and even their deputy, had been vacated at once. "Four Houses," the pureblood murmured, almost to himself. "Four corners of an empire, once united, now squabbling over the scraps of virtue." He wanted to inquire of the true impetus of this 'transformation.' He was certain he had an idea, but there was a difference between thinking and knowing and Thaddeus Athanatos understood the distinction better than most, a peddler of information, of fortune and of fate.
It was truly a fool's folly to invite those half-breeds into the school, to offer them an education when they should be dedicated to their service. Thaddeus looked to Lear, eyes glacial. "I will not promise you peace, Headmaster," he seemed to refuse to call Solomon by name. "But I will promise you permanence. The kind that outlasts the graves of children and the crumbling of towers. The kind that keeps the world turning long after the word 'legacy' has lost its meaning." Something that Hogwarts and the progressive magical community as a whole had forgotten about.
The shadows seemed to twist and writhe of their own accord in an unsettling manner but the interview had to go on. There was a time-table, a schedule to keep, appointments to attend. "Which moment from your own schooling do you still carry with you... and why?"
Solomon's stomach might lurch as he likely remembered the incident. He was not a great deal younger than Thaddeus, a once popular pureblooded Ravenclaw. "The day I watched a boy cast a spell too powerful for his wand," the pureblood said casually. "He burned his hand away to prove his worth. The professors called it tragic. I called it necessary. Hogwarts should teach every child that magic demands a price. That knowledge and power never come free." That recklessness has consequence, but so doesn't complicity.
Solomon remembered the incident. Well, he heard about it. It was one of those incidents that lingers in whispered gossip for years after it had happened. It was more a legend then. Lear nodded slowly, regretting the question. "If Hogwarts were ever to fall, what or who would you save first?"
"The library," Thaddeus said without hesitation. "Children can be made again. Books cannot." It was a cold, pragmatic decision. The value of life was second to utility.
The Headmaster’s bushy grey brows rose. "And what of the Houses?" Lear asked, almost curious. "Each has its strengths. Tell me, what is their flaw?"
A faint smile ghosted across Thaddeus’s mouth. "Gryffindor mistakes impulse for courage. Ravenclaw confuses knowledge with wisdom. Hufflepuff worships labor while fearing power. And Slytherin..." his eyes glinted with a strange amusement, "Slytherin forgets that ambition without discipline is merely hunger."
The silence fell heavy between them. Thaddeus knew he was not going to get the role, he had already seen the outcome. The intention was not to lower himself to the role of a Professor, limited to these castle walls and the whims of a distant administration, enduring the pleas of a community that hardly understood the value of effort and the cost of power.
Then Thaddeus continued, softer now, though the air seemed to tighten with every word. "Hogwarts should not be a sanctuary. It should be a forge. Your metal is of poor quality, but it is metal at the very least." He was referring to the loss of magical purity over the past decade. Hogwarts insistent admission of half-breeds, the surge of muggleborn wizards that seem to crowd the halls. He did not directly, outright say it, after-all he was a well-known advocate for magical-kind.
Thaddeus studied Solomon for a long moment, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. "I will save you from asking," he lifted his hand in a gesture of pause. "What sort of student would hate my leadership?” The parlor trick was really an expression of power, a demonstration of control. Thaddeus smiled thinly. "The kind who mistakes comfort for safety," he said. “The kind who expects mercy without having earned it.” He paused, then added, "but even they would learn something before they fled."
The portraits had fallen silent now. The castle seemed to listen.
Thaddeus inclined his head. "You asked me why Hogwarts should entrust its future to me," he said again, circling back to the start of this tête-à-tête. "Hogwarts should not. Hogwarts should obey."
Event NPC
NOW HIRING: HEADS OF HOUSE!
banner by none other than aly salinger
· · ─────── · 𖢨 · ─────── · ·One would think that the recently-graduated ex-Slytherin had everything she wanted. A rather lovely flat in the nice part of Cork, two amazing flatmates, a knack for athletics and potioneering, a fine physique, and, perhaps, the most important thing: a job some young Quidditch players would kill for.
After some time playing for the Cork team, Koko had sorely learned that 'playing' often equated to warming a bench. Now, the bench was sometimes lovely. Especially with her presence to give it grace. More often she stocked herself with cushions and snacks and fizzy drinks and rolled her eyes every time someone on the other team scored. If it had been her at the goals, it surely wouldn't have happened. As much as Koko had prided herself on her ever-present pleasant smile during her years at school, her resting expression had quickly turned into a scowl during her working hours.
Yes, she was a professional Quidditch player. She had achieved a goal she'd striven to for the better part of a decade. But for what? She was bored out of her mind most days, only keeping her sanity by tinkering with potions in the early hours of the morning or participating in odd escapades with Howard and Bridget. Worse was the emptiness. She'd expected satisfaction, pleasure, fame. What she had was none of that. Some days she wanted to punch something – but, of course, she didn't, as she was refined and above that.
She didn't expect to be named Head of House. It was not going to happen. But she nonetheless headed back to Hogwarts less than six months after she had graduated, dressed in a modest burgundy dress and the heels that she'd taken to wearing during her seventh year, her face made up and lips painted in red, her hair neatly arranged. If nothing else, she would look the part.
For the first time in a few weeks, she no longer felt existential dread as she did something vaguely work-related. She cast Headmaster Lear a genuine smile, glad to see the man who had been a fixture in her life for seven years. She sat, folded her hands in her lap, and maintained eye contact.
'Why would Hogwarts entrust its future to me?' she echoed, raising her eyebrows. The smile remained on her lips, an echo of her past as a helpful, patient prefect. The taking off and replacing of hats came as easily as it ever had. 'Well, I've lived it. You know it, I know it. The best thing about the Heads of House we had when I was at school was that I never felt alienated from them. I might have been an idiotic second year who misplaced my cat food, but Professor Jensen was never too busy to help. I never felt like I couldn't ask Professor Asmaralaya to sort a student who wouldn't come to detention. Approachability, understanding and compassion are key, and I was sure to demonstrate these traits as a prefect.'
'Each house has its strengths. Tell me, what is the flaw of each house?'
She could answer Slytherin's easily. But she had never given much thought to the other houses in a theoretical aspect. She could tell Headmaster Lear what was wrong with Ravenclaw's Quidditch plays (despite their captain being one of her well-loved friends), could attest to missed opportunities in Hufflepuff's strategic thinking, but knew very little of their character. Finally, she said, 'Of course, it depends on the individual. But as a whole, Hufflepuffs have historically been a bit flammable. I think we can work on this. Gryffindors... they lack respect.' Yes, she was very specifically referring to Harlan Montgomery and Oonagh Brown. 'That can be taught. Ravenclaws have a tendency to get lost in their thoughts and forget about the real world. And Slytherins?' She paused, finally averted her gaze, staring at the wall past the headmaster. 'We crave success, and we will stop at nothing to get what we want.' Her lips thinned into a flat line, the smile finally fading. 'It's a dangerous combination.'
Honesty was a virtue, they said, and although Koko considered herself virtuous, that had been a bit close to home. She steepled her fingers on the table and returned to eye contact, her amber gaze mostly flat now, despite the small, placating smile that had returned to her lips. Despite the unexpected departure from confident, pleasant bravado, she still felt more whole than she had in a while. What was that saying – Hogwarts is my home? Perhaps it was too cheesy for her, but to her horror, the interior of the castle, for once, felt far more homely than the Quidditch pitch.
'Would you protect a student from a difficult truth or teach them how to survive it?'
Koko glanced down at her nails and then back up to Headmaster Lear. 'Survive it. No question. They won't go anywhere in life if you coddle them. Let them struggle; let them grow because of it.'
They went back and forth for a bit longer. Some of the questions were easy to answer, and some of them made Koko avert her eyes again or have to stop herself from making a face. Nonetheless, she answered each candidly, knowing there was no skin in the game, not really. She was eighteen. There were bigger fish in the sea, this time.
'Describe the sort of student would hate your leadership and what that would say about you.'
As if on autopilot, she gritted her teeth. Hate was not going to be an option – not here, not on the Quidditch pitch. Perhaps that was the lesson of this adventure. 'Well, hypothetically, someone who isn't a fan of self-improvement would struggle. I am not one to let people plateau. If I think they can do better, I will push them to meet that potential.' Once again, she averted her gaze; this time, she glanced out the window. 'I suppose that might say I'm unforgiving or harsh. I don't really think that's the case; I understand the struggle and have been there myself. But to each their own.' She returned her gaze to the headmaster and gave a small, chuffed shrug, a half-smile on her lips once again.
It was as if a weight had been lifted from Koko's shoulders once again. Quidditch had gotten on her nerves, grated against her mind like nails on a chalkboard, and returning to simple conversation with someone who had been such a present figure at the school was like an anchor. When she left, her thanks would be as genuine as ever, even if her smile faded the moment she walked out of the door.· · ─────── · 𖢨 · ─────── · ·
Mentions: @Howard White, @Bridget Collins, @Aly Salinger, @Harlan Montgomery, @Oonagh Brown.
[pc] koko riddle · 'pour yourself a drink, put on some lipstick, and pull yourself together.'
'it always starts and ends with birds.' · cyrus darsel [inpc]
NOW HIRING: HEADS OF HOUSE!
| Note: French, German, English, Thoughts, Headmaster Lear | ━━━━━━━━━━ |
Okie... why am I here? For money....
Edith sighed and shook her head, Edith! No! The point is to get hired, not fired from the job you currently have. Taking a deep breath, she smoothed out her dress in thought, muttering beneath her breath, "No one told me England would be so expensive..." A small huff escaped her as she rested her forehead against the stone wall before the stairwell, I mean four galleons for a simple cup of tea? That is absurd!, "Right?" She removed her head from the wall, turning to look as the faint markings of the wall turned a shy pink across her forehead. Edith's amber eyes looked up, sighing at the silence she faced, her lips pouting slightly.
"What am I doing..." talking to the gargoyle named Asdrúbal.
I wonder what Sarai would say... She smiled softly as she continued to look at the stone guardian, "I should make you another flower crown soon..." Edith chuckled as she recalled the time she adorned it with a white rose crown during one of the afternoons she spent helping Miss Toussaint-Fleischer, though back then, the two kinders had yet to draw their first breaths into the world. I should pay them a visit whenever I get the chance... Edith nodded to herself before taking another deep breath.
Kinders...
The cute little creatures that ran through the corridors, laughing and yelling as they went to class. Edith had grown used to the rowdy mornings, smiling while she greeted those who passed by her before remaining within the confines of the tall oak bookcases for most of her day. Yes, she was there to help the children learn! Her amber eyes glinted with a newfound excitement while quickly making sure she still looked professional, humming a small tune before saying gently, "Coriander scones?"
She watched as Asdrúbal moved, letting her through to the spiral stairwell that rose beneath her soles when she walked past the sentient stone. Shaking her hands softly, her creme-colored heels clicked onto the floor outside the door to the Headmaster's office. I suppose the Castle is very old... her gaze followed the doorframe that appeared to be in a need of some touch up. Edith smiled softly as she noticed the four house banners displayed before she looked back at the door, noting the silence behind the door. The scent of cinnamon and cloves lingered, but the ink that caught reached sense appeared to indicate someone's presence, Am I to knock on the door?
Her hand rose, moving toward the door before hesitating.
"Come in." Edith felt her skin crawl at the sudden voice, her hand falling quickly to her side before taking a final deep breath, okie... I can do this... The doorknob turned and the door creaked as she opened it, her eyes immediately landing on a older gentleman who stood by a window. "Good-","Let’s talk legacy." Her voice died down as his rumbled through the office, her eyes on his back before he finally turned.
Edith quietly nodded, her steps soft as she walked further into the office, "Y-yes sir..." Her eyes squinted slightly as she neared him, the afternoon light his copper armor caught, blinding her before she took a seat on the chair he gestured toward across his desk. Her hands gently folded together as she looked at him, noting his appearance, It must be stressful being the headmaster... the man looked tired, or it was the gray gray mixed with his once blonde locks. Her amber eyes met his blue eyes as he began to speak once more, "Well, I have been the Librarian for a bit now... and I have enjoyed every single moment of it..." She smiled softly, remembering the various students who walked through the grand oak doors in wonder before venturing through the tall bookcases that held knowledge far older than herself. "So I would like to find a way to help the children learn more, perhaps even take a liking to reading... Reading is essential to achieve academic success, after all." Edith nodded as she recalled helping students check out books before exams, or with inquiries about topics that interested them enough to write a report on.
Her thumb gently soothed the other on her lap as she looked at the Headmaster, who seemed to think over her words, "Which moment from your own schooling do you still carry with you and why?" Her smile faltered momentarily at the question, My schooling? Clearing her throat, she smiled faintly, "While my schooling was done at Beauxbâtons, I spent most of my schooling sitting amongst the flowers, reading when I was not attending a class..." Edith chuckled softly as her smile eased more naturally, her hands slowly unfolding, "I was a peculiar one, some people could say... but I had always found serenity in knowledge. Being a child born as a... well, as a Metamorphamagi, understanding that some things were simply out of one's control was certainly comforting."
Comforting but not easy to accept.
A part of her wanted to shrink in the chair she sat, waiting to see if the Headmaster would react the way most people did when they found out she was not what they considered to be normal. Another part of her, however, looked at the man as if silently daring to say something... but he did not. Instead, he proceeded with the interview, "Would you protect a student from a difficult truth or teach them how to survive it?" His words lingered with the scent of the cinnamon and cloves, her hands gently opened and closed as she thought before saying softly, "To avoid a difficult truth is to deny an issue... it is not fixed and will only get worse..." Her gaze shifted to the table in thought, "A child is to be protected, no matter what... and I think that sometimes in order to protect the child, one would have to teach them how to live with the difficult truths." Meeting his gaze once more, her tone gave a sense of determination, "I would teach them how to survive it."
Perhaps her response shone her in a good light with the way the Headmaster appeared to listen to her every word... or he was analyzing her...
"If Hogwarts were ever to fall, what or who would you save first?" To her, the answer was simple, there was no need to think of what to say, her mouth moved faster than her brain, "the kinders." The Headmaster must have found her instant answer interesting as he quickly inquired, "What does your House need right now: a shield, or a sword?" That made her pause, her gaze on him as the gears in her head turned. Edith was not a fighter... she would crumble attempting to maneuver a sword, she knew that. "A shield...", if it meant keeping them safe..., "I would be willing to crumble beneath a sword's edge."
For she cared far too much for her own good.
The office seemed to grow in silence, and the portraits stirred. Neither said a word until Edith smiled softly, a faint blush creeping along her face as she said softly, "I am but a mere Librarian... who cares like the emotions laced into the dried ink of an old poem..." She began to stand up as she extended her hand to shake, "I may not be as well-versed as the other applicants... but I have enough drive to try." Edith gave one final smile before turning to leave the Headmaster's office, "Thank you for your time, Headmaster Lear... I will take my leave now."
Edith's steps were soft but no longer as shy, it was done, all she had to do was wait for a response.
━━━━━━━━━━━━
Mentions: @Sarai Toussaint-Fleischer
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Every soul is an ancient story.
NOW HIRING: HEADS OF HOUSE!
The corridors of Hogwarts hadn't changed. That was the problem. The stone remembered what the students and professors chose to forgot. But Hogwarts remembers everything, especially the things it should not. How the shadows were wrong. How it saw you without eyes. How it breathed slow and deep, like a slumbering beast.
Erin Ryan's reflection did not quite follow, but it seemed to at least keep her company. She saw herself, or that thing that posed as her reflection in the window glass as she ambled the spire toward the Headmaster's office. Her long, blonde hair was pulled back in a neat twist, a grey dress pressed to formality's edge, blue eyes too sharp for a school interview. "Auror composure," some called it, but it was really just containment. Keep the tremor out of the hands. Hide the madness behind the smile.
The portraits whispered even when they are not speaking. The castle always whispered, but on this day it groaned. Her wand hummed faintly at her hip, recognizing the old walls like a pulse beneath skin.
When Erin reached the door, she didn't knock. She simply stood there a moment, listening for a conversation that was only in her head but it was relevant all the same. There were things behind this wood and stone that moved without breath. She could feel them. She always could.
When Erin entered, her voice was calm. “I've come regarding the open position. Slytherin House.” There was the faintest curve of a smile on her lips. “It feels… appropriate.” Her old Alma Matta, she survived the place once and she was confident she could once again. But there was more to it than that, there always was.
The headmaster, Solomon Lear, was eternally old, proud and weary. She remembered him briefly as the Professor of Care of Magical Creatures, briefer still his tenure as Deputy Headmaster. She did not trust him, just because someone is old, it does not mean they or good or harmless. The look on his face was as if he had half-expected her to arrive. Like he'd seen this in one of his mirrors. She wondered if her real reflection was in one of them.
Erin's gaze slid past the Headmaster for a heartbeat, toward the dark corners of the office. The air in the Headmaster's Office was thick with old magics, old lies. "You're not being honest with them, you know,” she announced, almost to herself but these were not words that never left her head. "The hags, the curses, the marks in the lower dungeons... they're not gone. You've only buried them in the blood-soaked wood."
She looked down at her long nails, they looked manicured but she did not remember filing them. “I should know.”
A long pause. Then, "You asked for leaders who could protect your students." Her head tilted in a strange manner, twisted a bit too far to be natural. The ghost of a smirk across her almost too pale lips rose and died in the same breath. “But tell me, Solomon," it felt strange to use his given name, "what does my House need right now? A shield, or a sword?” She turned the question back on him, knowing she would not receive a satisfactory answer.
Erin didn't wait for an answer.
Erin's eyes were blue, but they were bright. Too bright. Veela-bright? That flicker that catches the candlelight and holds onto the gilded flame. No, that was not her part-veela legacy, that was her madness. "Neither," she announced. The choice between a shield and sword is not honest anymore. Both the sword and shield imply action: protect or strike, but the choice miss the rot underneath. "Slytherin breeds ambition. Not loyalty, not kindness. Ambition. And ambition without a keeper rots into fear and cruelty. You know that as well as I do. The last generation lost its mirror. I intend to give this generation one."
Which moment from her schooling does she still carry with her.
There were too many to truly name one, so she would simply name the most public. The most obvious. "The night I was nearly turned into something other than human," She lifted her chin slightly, she did not want to express weakness or speak honestly. So she gave a more generic answer, “it taught me what darkness really is. Not a spell, not a curse... but the silence that follows when you lost your humanity."
For a moment, the old stone seemed to hum an answer. She mouthed silence to quell the screams that had no sound.
Then Erin smiled, the expression was beautiful, wrong, dangerous. “So tell me, Headmaster… do you want a woman who keeps your peace?” Her voice dropped almost conspiratorially, "or one who keeps your secrets?" There was an implication there and it was unkind. He was not doing enough. He was not being honest. He was allowing them to wander into their jaws and she knew they would.
Just a trick of the lighting they said...
NOW HIRING: HEADS OF HOUSE!
Rigel settled into a corner of the room laid out for the prospective Heads of House. He'd only set foot in the castle a month and a half ago, and the place was already going bat shittier than a cave full of constipated bats at full moon. He only got the astro job because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He had been happily chasing after a lovely, though inwardly quite dark witch, for his twin sister Aoife's collection. He smirked.
There was no doubt in Rigel's mind that by "collection", Aoife meant the poor sod's wand or her heart preserved in a jar. Aoife had always been that way. It had been all he could do to drag her off of poor John Masterson, when they were thirteen, before she could diffindo the poor lad's right nut off. All he'd done was call her cute! Rigel had managed it, though. And he made sure to check on John after he'd got Aoife back into the house. He still recalled the pithy condolence he offered to their friend: "Well, John, two roast chestnuts are sure better than no chestnuts at all!"
He had been sitting in the Three Broomsticks when some crazy looking fellow dropped a letter onto the table and said: "You'd better get up to the Headmaster's office." The letter was from his Da, already opened, and a quick scan revealed that it had been a recommendation for employment at the school. Rigel shook his head in amusement now. Hogwarts never changed! It was chaotic when he was a student, and was, quite apparently, no less chaotic now. Only the people had changed.
There hadn't even been a proper interview. It was more like our former Astro Prof turned all mad as a hatter one day and left the castle bound for Australia and a peaceful life far away from Hogwarts. You used to mess around with telescopes and star charts and things. You'll do. And that was that. Rigel McCoire, adventurer and second hand dark wizard collector had been transfigured into Rigel McCoire, Astro Prof and baby sitter for his assortment of younger siblings.
And now, here we all are, he thought. Three fortnights into term and the ball has already claimed its casualties, we've got a bunch of new teachers and every single Head of House decided to quit all at once! Rigel had read the articles in the Prophet. He didn't mind working with the Ministry of Magic, but he also would never trust the Ministry of Magic as far as a bowtruckle could yeet a bludger. There had to be something highly suspicious going on here.
His penetrating gaze turned towards the others in the place, each waiting for their turn to make their case to the Headmaster. Some quixotic figure who always wears armour and looks more like a legendary king than a headmaster at a boarding school. The first up the stairs to the Headmaster's office was no surprise at all. His schoolmate Elmo Break. The shambling shuffle was newish, but the general look of unkempt tattiness was on brand. The interview with Break was short, but gave Rigel enough time to observe the others waiting their turn.
The oddest of the bunch was an impeccably dressed older gentleman. Rigel recognised him. Who wouldn't? The Athanatos clan were well known in wizarding society. And this was surely Mister Athanatos himself. Probably had the Minister in his top coat pocket and any number of key Department heads in is vest and trouser pockets. What on earth did he want the position of Head of House for? Surely he could gather a few chums and found a rival school!
A really quite young girl caught his attention next. She had the look of someone who had just recently been traumatised by Hogwarts and hadn't yet had the time to work through the post-graduation decompression. Another young woman appeared to be about his age. She was as dressed up as the elder gent was. Rigel began to wonder if they weren't going to institute some lame dress code or something. Academic robes had always been, and would always be, the best clothes one could wear in the drafty corridors of the ancient castle!
Last but not least was another young woman. Probably Irish or Scottish by her looks. Blonde, pretty, though something vaguely unsettling about her. Like Aoife, she had that young auror look about her. Eager. Hungry for action. Or something like that. Rigel had barely noticed that Break and Athanatos had departed long ago and one by one the women had as well. That left himself to take his turn.
The office itself was much the same as he remembered it. McGonagall was still Head Mistress then, followed after a while by Ackerley Blackburn. His mind wandered back to the several times he'd been summoned, ordered, or dragged into this very office. Headmaster Lear spoke about legacy. The future. Rigel gathered that this meant more than just Hogwarts. The school itself was the legacy of wizarding Britain after all. But more importantly, the school shaped and formed the future of wizarding Britain. He thought back to the start and end of term speeches of previous Headmasters. They often focussed on the theme of legacy, though not always quite so bluntly as Lear did.
McGonagall had talked about Hogwarts as a second home and how one's House was one's family. Rigel had certainly eaten that up like a solid oatcake fresh off the griddle! Whereas many other kids seemed to be terrified of Hogwarts's recent history --- some said the ghost of You Know Who was still floating around the place --- he and his sister couldn't wait to get the sorting over so they could get to their House table and start plotting all sorts of mad adventures!
Rigel smiled.
"Ye've got a splendid view from up here. Almost as good as the Astronomy Tower!" He nodded towards the window, the grounds around the castle, the Highlands beyond. This was quite different from how he'd gotten the professorship. But a Ravenclaw never forgets his wit and wisdom! "You were just looking at it, Headmaster. Legacy. It's in those kids down there. They can close this school, raze the castle, and start up somewhere else; but the legacy of Hogwarts is still the same. Those kids down there. And by extension, you and me. We're the present of Hogwarts's legacy; they're the future of its legacy."
One of the portraits cut in: "Stuff and nonsense! Athanatos made more sense than ..."
Without missing a beat, Headmaster Lear continued, moving on the strengths of the Houses, but interestingly, focussed on the weaknesses. Rigel smiled. This was more like it! "I'd often thought that the weaknesses of the Houses were simply the opposite of their strengths. Gryffindor is touted as brave and courageous, but that they're also unthinking and rush headlong. I don't think that's true."
"Hear hear!" roared the portrait of Godric Gryffindor. "What I've been telling you all this time!"
"No, I think the Houses all suffer the same weakness. And that is, they too often lack unity. Take Colin, for example. He's a bit ragged around the edges..."
"He's a bloody nuisance is what he is! Howling at all hours of the night!"
"...but I think he understands or intuits the fatal weakness of the Houses. I know him. He was built for Ravenclaw."
"HUMF!" the Sorting Hat spoke up. "I stand by my decision. It took a good long while to deliberate, but I put him in Slytherin where he belongs! Just as I put you in Ravenclaw where you belong!"
Rigel raised his eyebrow. "I wasn't doubting your wisdom, Sir Hat! Only stating the obvious that he was made for Ravenclaw! And he has now after some time in Slytherin remade himself. He is neither wholly Slytherin nor wholly Ravenclaw. One might say that his intuition has made him a Slytherclaw. I've heard that he is every bit as brave as a Gryffindor."
"Pah! No bloody snake can ever be as brave as a lion hearted Gryffindor!" muttered Godric's portrait.
"Quite. You see, he probably can't articulate the concept, but I think he understands the fatal flaw of separation. The Four House philosophy is good in that it fosters key traits in the young, and it gives them a way to safely compete. But I believe that the Fifth House philosophy, that of uniting the Houses within each student must be considered. Competition is good; but without incorporating and integrating the other Houses, wizardkind shall forever be doomed to rivalry."
Headmaster Lear considered that for a time before moving on to what might appear to be a question of academics. "Would you protect a student from a difficult truth or teach them how to survive it?" An interesting question indeed!
"I don't believe in coddling children. Well. Maybe a bit when they're wee little bairns! But by the time they're ready for Hogwarts, they need to see clearly, think clearly, and be able to act on what is truly happening. Magic is not to be trifled with. They need to learn early and fast that magic is both wonderful and perilous. That the world is a hard place to find oneself in and that life, even with magic, is neither fair nor cares about their feelings. Those who seek only comfort or safety end up finding neither. Hogwarts has always done well in this regard. I can still remember the start of term my first year. Headmistress flat out told us that right in that very hall, practically where Aoife and me were sitting, was where only a few years before old snakebreath himself, Lord Voldemort snuffed it. Slain by a young wizard, just a few years older than most of us. Pfft. Of course, bloody Gryffindor would have to get himself thrown into Azkaban! But the thing is, we weren't lied to. Inconvenient truths were never smoothed over or hidden behind rewritten history or social convention. If knowing the truth means those kids out there get to survive, and even thrive, then I'm all for that."
Headmaster Lear nodded thoughtfully. Rigel had the distinct feeling that this man would be a terror to play a few hands of wizarding whist against. His expression remained calm and unrevealing. He was either stone cold or else the greatest actor Rigel had ever seen! "If Hogwarts were ever to fall, what or who would you save first?"
Rigel paused to think this one over. The answer was obvious. Even the portraits hushed, waiting to see how astoundingly idiotic this young upstart could possibly be! "I remember reading in Hisotry of Magic about how this castle was practically in ruins during the fall of 98 and well into 1999. Looking around now, ye can hardly tell that the greatest battle of the century was fought in this place. It's peaceful now. I mean! Except for the ordinary chaos of shutting hundreds of angsty, moody, and peripubescent children up in the same building for years on end. One can hardly discern the battle scars and the repairs any more. Some might say that --- certain artifacts --- should be saved first. Others might say that the Library should be saved. Or that the portraits should be saved. But you spoke of legacy earlier; and I don't believe in no-win situations."
"Hear hear!" Godric cheered. "Often wrong, that lad, but never in doubt and onward to victory! Wait! What did he say about us portraits?"
Rigel paid him no mind. He knew this was an important question. He'd worked as an auror and an adventurer and even an astrologer. "Hogwarts shall fall one day." He shrugged. All things had their natural end, eventually. The portraits began to grumble and call him an idiot. He still paid them no mind. "If Hogwarts fell next week, the answer is obvious: we save it all. Children are convenient little minions. They can carry books and portraits out. We've got Prefects that can order them about! Important artifacts can be whisked away pretty quick and we can have the whole kit and kaboodle out of here before the Ministry can condemn the place. We just need a little organisation and little unity of purpose!"
And like that, the interview was concluded. As Rigel left, certain that anyone but him would get the positions, he at least felt more confident. He'd said what he felt needed saying. Hogwarts seemed to have a way of either wearing teachers down or else lifting them up. Even if he didn't get one of these positions, at least he felt that next time around he might actually have a chance and also that being Astro Prof wasn't really that bad. After all, Hogwarts had a legacy out there on the grounds or in the library or in classrooms. And that legacy didn't have to be secured only through the Heads of House. Even a mere Astronomy Professor could ensure the future of wizarding Britain!
As Rigel headed back towards his own office and the work in progress of sorting out the previous chap's disastrous filing system, he thought about Colin and Liam. He loved to tease them, but he was really actually very proud of them!
What have I gotten myself into?
Astronomy Professor |
| Student: Colin McCoire | iNPC: Cursa McCoire