Alpheus Arrives Closed

Ah, the final days had come upon him all too swiftly. It was already close to the end of his first year of Hogwarts, and honestly, Anatole had no idea what to make of it. Being a wizard was challenging, to say the least, especially a challenge beyond the caliber of any he had faced before in his young life. Magic was so much less...magical than he had thought. More of bookwork and girls. Girls who were strictly friends, that is. Nothing else.

But besides that, there were highlights and lowlights, spectacles and tragedies, just like any year for any person. Nothing, nowhere was perfect. It was all flawed some way or another.

Anyways, it was midday and he had savoured the soft stare of the paintings once he had escaped the Great Hall's lunch crowd, filing out as one of the last. With a full stomach and a languid grin, the tan Gryffindor Prefect moseyed down the hall and began to climb the stairs. Since this was the time where classes had given up on teaching any more new material, he decided he would return back to the Dormitory for a wonderful mid-day nap.

Well, wonderful was all subjective. A nap would not be wonderful if you slept in the dorm Anatole was in.

He was sprinting up the steps, skipping stairs and dragging his hand along the wall just for the sheer fun of it. After all, this was to be one of the last times he would be in the castle until September. September. A long name for a month which felt a long ways away. Sometimes, he wished he could stay in this world forever, with friends, and magic, and castles and robes and too many things he could easily break or mess up. It's what made it all complete.

Speaking of complete...oh, crap.

Anatole had forgotten his book down in the Great Hall. He was scanning through a novel he had found in the library at lunch to avoid impending glares from across the room, but had left the hardcover beauty smackdab in the middle of the Gryffindor Table. Hopefully it wasn't stolen by now.

Realizing his instant peril, he sighed and set back down the stairs, holding his robe out to the sides to prevent tripping. He had to get down there and fast.

In a matter of minutes, the supreme Evans boy had reached the landing of the Small Hall. Racing up and down stairs had been a pain, so he promptly decided he would have to walk this one out. After all, it did have some wonderful scenery. So wonderful that Anatole practically forgot his hurry.

Chattering hung in the hall for some strange reason. Little heads scampered back and forth, but in the distance, there was a larger silhouette. What the heck?

From a distance, Anatole took a double take, originally suspecting it was Professor Valtome in the distance. With a grunt, he kept walking towards the man, finally noticing that it was not the snarky elf boi Potions Professor, but some foreign stranger.

What was that total lie about nothing and nowhere being perfect?

It looked like the man had it all: a flamboyant cape, magnificent shades and a line of trunks stretching as far back as the eye could see. This guy had better not be anyone like the adult he came across last time.

Out of the blue, the man began to speak, introducing himself as none other than Professor Alpheus. His smiling and snapping was infectious, and it almost, almost made Anatole crack a smile.

It was a disease: the closer Anatole got to this "Professor Alpheus", the stranger he felt. How was he supposed to act?

If anything, he tried to distract himself once again by scuffing the floor or admiring the paintings. The chatter died down, and he swore that he had heard the menacing Professor's footsteps pass by already, and he also swore he almost got whacked with his cape.

"Hey Wizkid."

Anatole whipped his head around, peering up at the man with eyes of surprise. Was he addressing him? "Y-Yeah...?"

"Don't suppose you can point me in the direction of the History of Magic office?"


And just like that, the world froze around him when the Professor stopped. The line of trunks paused, and Anatole was trapped thinking of a reply. Naturally, as a Prefect, he should be able to help, right? As a gentleman, he took the duty upon himself to act as an usher if needed. After all, he had done it before for new students, right?

"I-I believe I can, Sir." With a jutting stutter in his voice, he proclaimed his response the best he could.

Boy, what was it with Anatole meeting Professors in the Small Hall? First he had survived Valtome, but this new guy was an entirely different beast.

it was nearing the end of the school year, most of the classes had finished the syllabus which was a relief for the brunette as the stacks of assignments her bedside table was no longer pilling up. Had arrived early to lunch and left just as a river of students flooded in. She squeezed past them and finally managed to free herself from the crowd.

There weren't much classes left and the girl didn't want to stay cooped in her dormitory. For the past months, she had ventured to almost every corner of the Scottish castle with the help of her handy mauraders map which she had bought in Daigon Alley, somewhere she wasn't supposed to be in the first place. The girl heaved a sigh, she was going to find something interesting to do. The girl easily got bored and restless.

Just as she was walking along the small hall, she spotted a familiar looking dark haired boy standing in front of a tall blond man conversing. A scowl formed on her face. Anatole. It was only recently where he had burned her accidentally but stupidly in the lock in adventure. She still had the huge dark scar from the incident. It stretched along a side of her upper back and about two inches of it peeked from the back of her neck above the collar of her robes. It prevented her from wearing a wide range of garments in her wardrobe and she was flustered to know that it was to stay with her for the rest of her life.

Now she faced a problem, the two figures were standing across her in the narrow hall way and there was no way she was able to dodge them. Also, Anatole had been appointed prefect for Gryffindor which made thing worse for her as she wouldn't be able to show how upset she was for his previous actions even though he had apologised. Aurelia gumbled slightly as she marched towards them.

"Anatole," she had said, acknowledging him with a slightly cold tone. Then smiled at the blond haired man. Aurelia stopped in her tracks, she had not seen him before, judging by the row of trunks following behind him, he was another new Professor. There were quite a lot of them coming in recently, probably to prepare for the next semester. The man wore a pair of sunglasses, the frame possibly a size to large. Aurelia resisted her urge to laugh, a smile formed on her face instead. She hadn't seen a professor dressing so... funky. He was already set for summer. This ought to be interesting.

"Hello, I'm Aurelia," It was polite and respectful of her to introduce herself to the professor.

The grin on Frost's face felt as it would never fade. Well, a little more than her usual ever-existing cheerful smile. It was summertime now.

Warm days of the sun. Clear skies. Small breezes that swayed your hair as you walked. Frost absolutely adored the summer. Not only was it her birthday season, but it now is the break here at Hogwarts.

Impossibly, somehow the skip in her step was even bigger. Bouncing through the Small Hall with that red book she seemed to never part with [Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them- Newt Scamander] held tightly in her hand. She needed to get back to Hufflepuff to help out her friends.

Some trunks made their way out in front of her, having her stop abruptly so she wouldn't collide with them. Could it be? A new professor? There seemed to be quite a bit of new ones coming in for the new school year to come. 

The short girl followed behind the trunks. It would be wrong to not greet him or her. But the floating trunks stopped.

Frost was curious, as per usual. Had she arrived at the new professor already? 

Leaning to the side a bit, she saw him. 

Her hazel eyes grew wide.

Wow. How could you not miss him?

Long blonde hair, big sunglasses, black nail polish, and the best part, his fashion sense. For goodness sake, he had a freaking cape! How much cooler could you get?

He spoke to a Gryffindor boy, calling him a whizkid. 

"Hey, wizkid. Don't suppose you can point me in the direction of the History of Magic office?"

A tall brunette girl stood next to the boy. It was Aurelia. She spoke in an icy tone to the boy.

"Anatole,"

Was that the Gryffindor boy's name? Anatole? Well, it seemed that Aurelia didn't particularly care for this boy.

"Hello, I'm Aurelia,"

"I-I believe I can, Sir."

Oh! The blonde man must be the new History of Magic professor! Well, the classroom was exceptionally close to the Hufflepuff Hive, as she liked to call it, so she could help Anatole. 

"Hello Aurelia, Hello Sirs." She cleared her throat. "I can help show you the way as well. Seeing as the Hufflepuff Dormitories is where I'm headed, and the History of Magic classroom is exceptionally close."

The ginger girl beamed. 

"Oh! Sorry. I haven't introduced myself yet. I'm Frost Cira, Hufflepuff."

Hopefully, she would learn their names soon enough. 

Ever since the beginning of the school year, the Small Hall had been one of Lucy's favourite places to hang out in. It was a great place to people watch, since students often travelled through here on the way to other places, and when students were not present, the paintings were positively hilarious. A certain adventure or two had also started in here, and her mind drifted back to when she first ran into Anatole in this very space. In fact, she almost swore that she could hear his voice. It sounded slightly uncertain - uncharacteristic for him in Lucy's mind - but then, wait, another voice? She snapped out of her daydream, realising that these voices were occurring in reality. 

She pushed herself out of the wingback chair, eliciting a cloud of dust as she brushed herself off. She turned, attempting to find the source of the voices, and her jaw opened in a cartoonish manner as she found the speakers. What in the - who? Were her first oh-so-coherent thoughts on the newcomer. She drifted a bit closer without realizing it, fully dazed at his appearance and manner of speaking. No wonder Anatole had responded with such uncertainty! And now this... professor? was asking for directions and Anatole was seemingly floundering to respond. He managed a, "I-I believe I can, Sir," before another Gryffindor girl appeared - and she looked suspiciously similar to the one that had tripped her in class at one time, causing her to spill ink everywhere.

As she processed the situation, she found herself quite close now. She raked her eyes over the newcomer's appearance in the unashamed way that only children or people oblivious to manners can accomplish, stopping and zeroing in on his hands. Is he wearing nail polish? Her confused look turned into one of utter amusement. She was just about to open her mouth to ask when another Hufflepuff girl appeared, introducing herself as Frost. Oh yes, Lucy had seen her around. She probably had even learned her name a time or two, but this was the first time she could really actually say she had met the girl, even though she wasn't introducing herself to Lucy.

Once their introductions had completed, Lucy turned to grin at the professor. "Um, professor, are you wearing nail polish?" She gestured to his fingernails, which were painted black. She had attended a Muggle school as a girl, but even then she didn't know anyone who painted their nails black. She also didn't know any boys who painted their nails. Ever. Out of all the things that she could have found strange about his appearance, she decided that this was the weirdest. Satisfied, she directed her attention to his floating entourage, a seemingly never-ending line. Her grin amped up even more, if possible. "Good thing no one has to carry those - that would be quite a load!"  Her comment, perhaps not the most appropriate but definitely not malicious, wasn't directed at anyone. It was merely a product of thinking out loud.

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ALPHEUS grinned at the Gryffindor student, noting the boy's seeming shyness. The stutter was adorable, and made him seem unsure and insecure, but the Professor suspected that wasn't the case at all - especially judging by the fact he wore the badge of the lion and had a prefect pin on his uniform. This kid was stronger than he seemed, Alpheus knew it.

"Great, perfect!" Alpheus said with a grin, as he nodded. "This place hasn't changed much, but you never know, right?"

The new Professor was about to move on, with his tour guide leading the way, when another student arrived and introduced herself. There seemed to be a bit of tension between the pair of kids, which made Alpheus smirk as he listened to the very brief exchange. If a tone could kill, the Professor suspected that little Anatole would be extinct about now...

"Aurelia? Awesome to meet you," Alpheus said with a laugh, his hands being placed on his hips as he looked between them. "I'm Professor Alpheus, newly appointed Professor of History of Magic, and soon-to-be Head Referee of the Duelling Club... I think I said that before, but I'll probably be saying it a few more times as I meet more and more students! Can't wait to get to know each of you!"

Another voice sounded, which made Alpheus turn to look at the newer arrival. He noticed the yellow of his old House, his grin growing into a full smile. He was brought back, his mind flashing through the amazing school years of the past, even if some of them were tainted by danger and darkness, the experiences and friends the Professor had made then were worth the trials overcome.

"A fellow Hufflepuff, great to meet you, Frost!" Alpheus chuckled, winking and pointing as he strode by. "Very cool name, little miss. And by all means, you are all welcome to join on the trek to the History of Magic office. The more the merrier, gives me a chance to ask questions and get to know you!"

And just like that, another Hufflepuff appeared, which filled Alpheus with pride. He loved seeing the yellow and black represented, especially since it felt they were such an underrated House, often regulated to the sidelines and ignored in favor of the more boisterous Gryffindors and cunning Slytherins. Still, no matter what anyone said, it took all kinds to make a strong chain, and the Hufflepuffs were a steadfast and hearty lot, commonly underestimated but never faltering.

Hufflepuffs represent!

"Uh, nail polish?" Alpheus said, stopping to look down at his fingernails, turning his hands over before him. He was confused, one eyebrow raised. "Is that what it's called? I.. I thought it was nail paint... and why am I getting the feeling you think it's weird? Is it weird? Don't Muggles wear this stuff all the time?"

Alpheus loved wearing it. He had seen some Muggles with it once, and thought it really made the fingers look amazing. Speaking of, it looked like none of the students had nail pai-- polish -- on their own fingernails, which made the Professor wonder if he was doing it wrong...

Nah, how can something that looks this right be wrong?

"Oh, I didn't get your name, miss...?" Alpheus said, looking to the blonde Hufflepuff that had mentioned the nail polish. "You sound like you know a thing or two about Muggle fashion... did you want to join us on the way to the office? Maybe we can discuss some awesome style tips?"

The entourage was about ready to move, waiting on the Prefect to start them off.

"And don't mind the trunks. They'll follow us, and will make sure to deliver my clothes and bookshelves in perfect, safe and prompt order... when we start off, they'll keep up," He said, before clicking his fingers. "I'm Professor Alpheus Wordsworth, by the way!"

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Agh. Every centimeter of this man was covered in radiating joy and infectious grins that were impossible to ignore. Every moment Anatole stood in his presence, he felt intimidated and slightly painful. There were some aspects of him that seemed utterly laughable at first glance. "Great, perfect," the Professor replied, accompanied by a grin that matched his eager tone. "This place hasn't changed much, but you never know, right?"

Wait, so he had been here before? Nothing had really changed throughout Anatole's first year, location-wise, but he would have to see what the "new guy" meant. "Oh, sure, I guess...I really don't know...y-yeah." Anatole scratched the back of his neck, adjusting his robe to try to hide the awkwardness.

The other footsteps in the Small Hall were incredibly challenging to ignore. They came from left and right, from front and behind, and for a second, he thought he could hear them upstairs.
It was as if the whole school already knew of Professor...Wordsworth's arrival, and that assumption was reinforced by the swift influx of girls who approached next.

First, the strong stride of a Bezuidenhout echoed from behind him. It was noticeable enough to make the boy pivot on his heel to take note of her pleasant expression morphing sour when she noticed his face, now flushed with surprise. She was the last person he had expected to see here. "Anatole." Aurelia's voice was spoken stern enough to send a chill down his back even though he had burned her in the first place. Flustering a little, Anatole couldn't bring himself to reply swiftly once she smiled and played innocent to the gorgeously caped man.

After a few hurried moments of contemplation on how to play it off, he decided to make use of her word tinged with loathing. "Anatole! Y-Yeah, that's my name! Happy to meet your ac-cquantaince, Sir!" He held his hand out for a handshake, waiting for the caped one's large hand to grasp his small palm. It was best to break the ice.

More footsteps rushed past, this one distant and slow yet light enough to be a girl's dainty touches. None of it sounded familiar, but once he heard the girl speak, he turned toward her. She was clearly much more prepared for this situation than he was, and to be frank, she made him look bad. Her introduction was curt and to the point. And Sirs! She had addressed the twelve-year-old as a sir! Not exactly Anatole's type, but he couldn't show any signs of refusal. She was only trying to help!

Gulping to swallow his fear, Anatole pushed his hair out of his face, suddenly noticing one more familiar face in this crowd - none other than the majestic and adorably clumsy Lucy O'Sullivan. What was with the two of them always encountering Professors together? Thankfully, she was another familiar face in this stress-inducing crowd of teacher's pet hopefuls klutzy first-years. Anatole beamed when he saw her, but she beamed at Alpheus first. Hearing her comments, the boy gulped again, afraid he would be the kind to take her nail polish remark the wrong way.

It turned out he was just puzzled. Nail polish, yes. As a Muggle-Born, he was sure this Wordsworth could use some help with his terminology. "Yeah...it's nail polish. And, uh...no, it's not weird..." Lowering his voice and inching closer to the overarching man, Anatole muttered, "it's just that...uh...guys usually don't wear it." He showed the grown man his fingernails: bare and sharp. He moved back, giggling a little to himself and smirking at Lucy. This would be a fun one.

The Professor's gaze, like all Professors' gazes, ushered him to do something. Suddenly realizing what he was supposed to be doing at this very instant, Anatole flinched a little and acknowledged his stare. "Oh! Yeah. History of Magic office, right away!" He squinted with an awkward smile, moving down the Small Hall with some strange hurried rhythm to his steps. Anatole was leading the pack!

It was good to say his library book was long gone.

Anatole! Y-yeah, that’s my name! Happy to meet your ac-acquaintance,sir!

Aurelia thought her presence made the boy fumble with his words. It was quite entertaining to watch a prefect stutter with his words, especially infront of a professor

The way the professor talked was enough to brighten her mood. She hasn’t seen any professors like him. Most were stern and strict. Aurelia liked the new professor already.

It wasn’t long before two others approached them. A girl with fiery red hair and another with long golden locks. Aurelia the hufflepuffs, one she didn’t have a good first experience with. She had seen the blonde girl in one of her many classes and she remembered once, that the girl had accused her of tripping her causing her to spill her ink when she wasn’t even close to her when she had fell. But it wasn’t the time to be reminiscing about past experiences and ruining her mood, not when she wanted to set a good impression for the new professor.

Anatole seemed to be uncomfortable when Frost addressed the two as Sirs. It was a little to formal for her taste but it had certainly bothered the Gryffindor.

Lucy had questioned something about nail polish, it was only then when Aurelia realized the black paint on the ends of the professor’s fingers. It was nail polish. She had seen a few of a friends where them too in her hometown of Cheshire. However, it was odd seeing a professor put them on. Then the professor stated that he was fond of trying muggle fashion.

Perhaps Aurelia might be able to teach him a thing or two. She too, loved trying on new clothes and styles but unfortunately the burn on her back that the boy in front gave to her prevented her from doing so.

Then Anatole went on his way to show the professor his office.

History of Magic office, right away.

"Aye aye, Sir Anatole."

As they were walking, Aurelia seized the chance to give the professor some of her fashion tips. She skipped towards him.

"Professor Wordsworth, since you fancy nail polish, is there a chance you have heard about lipstick?"

The boy was walking through the castle clutching a strange bag made out of a bunch of napkins, crudely sewn together with grass when he heard a bunch of people talking, and then saw him. He was clearly a professor, and clearly a predator. But he was not like the potions professor, he was no silent serene murderer.

He was a lion, proud and secure in his knowledge that if any threat come his way he would be able to deal with it swiftly. It was the kind of confidence Kaegen secretly wished he possessed, his young mind instantly grasping at the equivalent of a superhero. His more rational side knew that he would never be like this man, that he was better off in the shade and mist and little comfy holes with pillows and locked doors.

But that couldn’t deter him from wanting that power. The professor and the prefect looked about as similar as a bean and a tomato. The professor had a blond mane and glasses that had been enchanted to be dark. He wore a cape, wore paint on his fingernails. He was impressive. GLORIOUS. To a boy that had never seen anyone impressive and gaudy before in his life, this would be a sight that he would never forget.

Realistically it wasn’t all that impressive, it was a professor attempting to follow the muggle’s standards of cool. But cool is a matter of perspective. And to a mind that had only seen things in dim shades until his arrival at hogwarts, this light seemed blinding.

He knew he was going to say something, make that man recognize his existence. But he couldn’t think of anything to say other than his name. So he went with that. Stepping out in front but to the side, so the professor could easily see him but he wasnt exactly in the way, Kaegen looked like he had just escaped from an insane asylums intensive care ward.

Dark eyes, Black messy hair that seemed burned and melted and interwoven with a few pieces of grass. Heavy lids that obviously broadcasted the small amounts of sleep the boy had been enjoying, and an unwavering, penetrating gaze. His robe, too, was black as it should have been per regulation. But too large, with patches and holes and rips where things with claws, or perhaps just jagged branches, had torn them.

The boy’s skin was chalk white with undertones and shadings of sickly grey that made it seem less like the skin of a little boy and more like the skin of some corpse. A soft grey scarf covered his chin and neck. For a pair of eyes that knew what they were looking at, it was clear he did not look human. Or at least, to put it more accurately, not all human.

The boy’s voice was quiet, only slightly louder than a whisper, vaguely reminiscent of dry leaves.

”My name is Kaegen Deathmote, fens-born scarf-weilder. He who was called fat tadpole as a babe and suicidal idjit as a toddler. He who earned the name Eeh before arriving at hogwarts. He who was named prefect of ravenclaw. He whose names and titles are under the authority of the black burn of hogwarts, sir happiness of ravenclaw and Grandfather of the fens, whose authority comes from the conqueror of the 14th dark place, whose authority comes from his exploits, conquering the aforementioned 14th dark place”

His name wasn't much, no doubt less than what the professor had. But at least it was something. And maybe that something was enough for now, enough until Kaegen made a bigger name for himself in the hallowed halls of hogwarts.

It was almost the end of term. Students were busy packing their things and enjoying their last few days of school with their friends. Serena was not one of those students. She had signed up to the Summer Camp, that started in a few days, so there was no need to pack early. Instead, the Prefect was busy finishing off some of her duties before the end of the semester. She had some notes to send to her fellow members of the Hufflepost, some reports to write up for the Professors as part of her Prefect duties and a bit of planning and preparing to do for the summer holidays.

The girl sat in the Small Hall, with her quill in hand. She was waiting for lunch, to be honest but had arrived a little earlier than she had planned. Since she did not want to get in the way of the setting up of the Great Hall, Serena decided to sit in the smaller hall instead. She leaned against the wall, her knees up with a bunch of parchment pressed up against her thighs. Dipping her quill into the ink pot that lay open besides her, Serena brought it to the parchment and continued to make some notes on the page.

It was, at the very least, quieter in the smaller hall than the main one. A great place to do some work whilst waiting for lunch to be served. Of course, that was until the grand entrance of a very... peculiar man. Serena blinked as she heard his voice. Professor Alpheus. He introduced himself as the new professor for History of Magic - perhaps one of the dullest subjects known to mankind. She did not think anything of it, until she heard the words 'Duelling Club'. Over the past few months, she had to help a few professors and watch over their duels. If she was going to be doing the same next year, then this was a man she would have to get to know and work with in the future. She had no idea if she was going to be in the duelling club nor did she care, to be honest. It was probably more scary than fun, if she was being honest. She would happily never oversee another duel again, if she had the choice. But if she was going to help out, then she may as well get to know the man in front of her.

Before she could say anything, however, he was swamped. Several students surrounded him - before Serena could even say 'hello'. A girl who called herself Sandy started off the trend. The Hufflepuff did not know all of them but she recognised a few, for sure. Several of her fellow Prefects had appeared to greet the man and assist him. It wasn't until Lucy mentioned nail polish that Serena noticed the professor's fingernails had been painted. Blinking some more, she concluded he was definitely a strange Professor. He said some very bizarre things, like 'wizkid' or 'right on' and winked a lot.

Serena sat there silently observing the scene in front of her. A Gryffindor girl that she recognised from a duel she had moderated spoke up, asking the Professor about 'lipstick'. Serena grinned instantly. Oh dear. She could not help but laugh a little, wondering if the girl would be able to convince the Professor to wear 'lipstick'. Laughing to herself, she looked over to the Gryffindor girl and said loud enough for them to hear, "Don't you mean 'lip paint'?" She said in a serious tone of voice, though she was quiet blatantly joking since the new Professor also thought nail polish was better known as 'nail paint', "You could also try some of the 'eye powder', Professor - or a bit of 'guyliner'." The Hufflepuff was half tempted to say more. She almost joined in the conversation further. However, before she had gotten a chance to, a strange boy that had tried to scare the living daylights out of her appeared. She recognised him by his oddly long introduction. He was definitely a strange child too - trying to forcibly drag her somewhere she did not want to go. Perhaps it was better to avoid him this time... before he tried something else that was unusual and uncomfortable.

Deciding against speaking, Serena put her head back down and continued to write out her reports quietly. This whole thing was far too intense. Everyone had instantly crowded the new Professor and there was just too many people trying to assist him. Knowing that there were a few of her fellow Prefects present, Serena concluded that they would be able to escort him to his office without any trouble. She was not needed. But whoever this new Professor was, he was definitely one that she would have to get to know next year - and hopefully see wearing more make up than he currently did. Serena laughed softly to herself at the idea of convincing him to wear some of that lip paint. 

Serena exits thread, unless directly interacted with.