Calling My Lawyer

Thaddeus Snellgrove, Lawyer, Sitting Member of the Wizengamot

The Tap tap tap resonated through the bedroom but caused no signs of stirring. A few seconds later the tap tap tap came again, now louder and more persistent. Thaddeus awoke suddenly and grabbed his wand off the bedside table, “Lumos,” he muttered groggily as he used his free hand to grab his glasses. For a third time a (now very loud) tap tap tap echoed through his bedroom, “Knock it off I’m coming,” he said in a much more alert (and grumpy tone).

His attention was drawn to the large barn owl that was at his bedroom window, “Someone better be dead… it’s three in the bloody morning,” he said to himself as he crossed his bedroom and opened the window. The owl immediately stuck its head through the window so Thaddeus could take the letter held in its beak. He did so and the owl immediately turned and flew back off into the night. He saw that the envelope was addressed to him and bore the unmistakable scrawl of Solomon Lear, the Hogwarts Headmaster. He opened the envelope and extracted the note therein, it was the shortest the Headmaster had ever sent him:

My office, now.

Lear

“Oh, what the hell is it now?” He asked no one in particular in an irritated and alarmed voice as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He turned to face the lamp on his bedside table, “Incendio,” flames jumped to life and the lamp cast the room in a bright glow. He stood silently for a moment, “If I’m going to deal with this, I’m going to need some coffee,” he said as he walked into the kitchen, still holding his lit wand. “Incendio,” he said again, aiming his wand at the fireplace. A roaring fire started and he walked over to the sink. He emptied his kettle from last night and refilled it with water. After walking over to the fire and hanging the kettle over it, he walked back into his bedroom.

On little more than autopilot, he walked over to his closet and opened the door. He took off his pajamas and hung them from the hook on the door. Very slowly, with weariness washing over him like it seldom did, he started to dress. Paisley socks - check, black dress pants - check, freshly ironed white dress shirt - check. He looked over at his tie rack for a moment. This was the only thought he’d put into his appearance. He was reluctantly trudging off to Hogwarts, might as well look the part. He pulled a green and silver - the colors of his own house - striped tie off the rack and carefully tied it. Finally, he pulled on a set of nicer robes and laced up his oxfords (not brogues).

As he heard the teapot start to whistle, he hurried into the bathroom and quickly brushed his greying hair before heading into the kitchen. As he headed for the fireplace he heard a new tap tap tap on the window, “Bloody hell, I’m coming old man!” he shouted in frustration. Really how quickly did Lear expect him to be there, dragging him out of bed at this unholy hour. Ignoring the owl for the moment, he walked over to the fireplace and carefully removed the kettle, and carried it over to the table, setting it down. He went over to the cabinet and took out his French Press and bag of coffee. The French press was a muggle invention but he could find no device, muggle or wizard made, that could produce a finer cup of coffee.

He measured out the proper amount, tipping it into the press. He filled the press with boiling water as he heard another tap tap tap on the kitchen window, “Yes, yes, hang on,” he said, more reservedly this time. He put the kettle back down and placed the top on the French Press, methodically pushing the plunger until it reached the bottom.

As his coffee brewed, he crossed over to the kitchen window and opened it. Another large barn owl with a letter in its mouth. He wondered if Lear had bothered to put any more detail in this one. Thaddeus grabbed the letter and, as its predecessor had, the owl flew off into the night and he grabbed a coffee cup, sat down at the table in front of the press and opened the new letter. As he unfolded it, he poured himself a cup of coffee and took a long sip before he started to read:

Mr. Snellgrove:

It has just come to our attention that earlier this evening, there has been an attempted stabbing in the Slytherin common room, this follows another knife attack yesterday. I and some of the other governors have spoken and would ask that you kindly get up to the school and help the Headmaster keep a firmer grip on his horses.

S. Williamson
Hogwarts Board of Governors

“You have got to be fucking joking,” he said to himself as he drained the cup of coffee. This really was too much. It was a miracle the school hadn’t been shut down by now given the number of horrible things that kept happening there but, a stabbing? Really. Come on now.

He sighed sadly and poured himself a second cup, which he then picked up and threw back in one fluid motion. “Right, time to give visit the circus,” he said to himself as he got up. He walked back to his closet and pulled out his black traveling cloak. He picked up his briefcase from the floor of his closet and closed it. Withdrawing his wand once more he pointed it at the lamp, “Extinguo,” the fire in the lamp went out at once. On his way through the kitchen, he pointed his wand at the fireplace and repeated the incantation, the kitchen falling into darkness as he reached the door. He opened it and set out into the night of Hogsmede, locking it behind him.

Shockingly, he did not encounter a single soul, human or otherwise, as he made his way through the winding streets of Hogsmede. All the shops were closed, he made a mental note that he’d have to come by the Three Broomsticks on the way home, he would most definitely need a drink after what surely lay before him.

After at most five minutes, he found himself at the gates to the school. One of the stone gargoyles eyed him quickly before nodding in recognition, as it did the gates swung open and Thaddeus walked onto the grounds. Again, he didn’t encounter a soul all the way up to the castle. He quietly opened the door to the Entrance Hall and walked in. Completely deserted save for a Siamese cat that was roaming around. He strode through the halls and up the stairs with purpose. Finally, he reached the top of the stairs and burst into the Headmaster’s Office, not even bothering to knock or wait for acknowledgment, he just started in a clearly exasperated voice, “Merlin's Beard, Solomon, common room fires and giants and train robberies weren’t enough now they’re just stabbing each other!”

Mentioning: @Solomon Lear

Who needed a time-stopper when you had waiting on Snellgrove. The first owl was sent in haste, the old man was wired from the activities of the evening. The dramatics of the two young women, the two unfortunate young men and his findings that followed. A few minutes felt like a little over an hour. The hour or so he waited felt like the entire morning.

He poured himself a drink, three fingers of Balkan 176, neat and sipped on the contents in hopes that it would still his nerves. It did not, but it made the room float slightly. In time for Thaddeus Snellgrove to burst through his door.

“Merlin's Beard, Solomon, common room fires and giants and train robberies weren’t enough now they’re just stabbing each other!”

"More like Merlin's pointy hat and shining robes," Solomon commented with a sigh as he added another 2 fingers to his now empty cup. "What's your poison again old friend?" He thought it was brandy, or was that just the name of that 'nice' girl they used to date. Well, bring back to their place after her shift at Three Broomsticks. "We have a lot more than fires, and trains to worry about this time," her muttered with a tone of exasperation and annoyance.

"Lock the door," he ordered. His office was generally left unlocked but this was one of those rare conversations that was going to require privacy and more than a few drinks. "The previous incidents have nothing on this one," he admitted as he took a sip. "Do you still smoke?" He motioned towards the humidifier on a table. "Take what you need, you will be here awhile," he cautioned.

Once Thaddeus was settled, Solomon would start. "Our sins have come back to haunt our children it seems," the commented ominously as he took a sip. "Hags had infiltrated Hogwarts and have caused suffering, harm and death to the student body," he started. Hags were something that the both of them were familiar with, but it was so long ago it was something that they had likened to a dream. "It was a blood curse that brought violent 'life' to the darkness," he continued. When they were younger they had crossed hags during their impressionable youth, never at Hogwarts but rather in Knockturn Alley, it seemed to be a right of passage to curiously seek out the darker part of society and attend to it with a keen interest.

"I'm not sure how or who, but someone did not turn away like we did when we realized that it... not they were too dangerous. They were found in Hogwarts but I am not sure how they got there, only that they got their claws into a few of our kids." He let out a sigh. "Get me one of H. Upmann No. 2," if his reach was long enough that is. "Nevermind," he unsteadily got to his own feet. He was still wearing his armor, a familiar sight for the paranoid magizoologist. He had not been seen out of his armor since the death of his former partner Bucky. A leather wrapped full plate that was well worn but in good repair, a honey-like hue, embossed with intricate runic imagery. The floor was wobbly, he steadied himself with his palm on his desk. Snellgrove knew that Bucky's cause of death was bullshit, who really caused death the the true talent of that duo those years ago. What dumb men do for the sake of 'love.'

"They attempted to turn a few girls, I think we prevented them from turning but you never really know," he shrugged. "Had no idea that it was slugs, do you think Buchanan had any idea?" He let out a weak laugh. "He probably would have known within days of it starting," he shook his head and fumbled with the humidifier lid. "In any case, they made friends. There were some giants, I suspect a few members of Scar, maybe even a few misguided students. An unnerving benefactor had hired some men to remove the hag blight..." he fumbled to light his Cuban cigar between his teeth. "Unofficially, of course," he added. The truth would never leave this room. "But this evening something happened that makes me doubt their effectiveness," he admitted as a spark of light at the end of his wand erupted into a flamethrower for a moment singing his whiskers.

The cigar was lit in any case, the cancer fumes filled his lungs with comfort and nicotine. "I can't explain the incident between this pair of girls," he admitted. "I can't think of any recourse besides expulsion for either of them." A puff of smoke escaped his nostrils. "A girl snuck into a boy's room in the middle of the night and tried to stab him with a knife, only he roused thankfully and screamed, preventing his own murder. The girl was not afflicted, she is just obviously unhinged and dangerous. Another girl had another incident the day before where she threatened another student with another knife. She apparently supplied the former with a knife, had a trunk full of knives and likened herself to Bellatrix LeStrange. She is also not afflicted. Both are under the care of Polonius Frogge, our newest school nurse." Hogwarts went through school nurses like teenage girls went through lip gloss.

"My worry is for the boys," he admitted as he nearly missed his chair attempting to sit back down and take another sip from his crystal tumbler. "There was this one boy, when we tried to see if he was a carrier that had something wrong with him," he admitted ominously. "Full disclosure, the lad is a werewolf, but it would seem that the boy is double-cursed with something..." He would grip his tumbler and take a large gulp from the glass before bringing it down on the surface of his desk hard. "I think it is hag work, but I do not know what it is." He was paranoid, also a little drunk.

Thaddeus Snellgrove, Lawyer, Sitting Member of the Wizengamot

Merlin’s pointy hat and shining robes, more like Merlin’s saggy nutsack. All Thaddeus knew was that he was likely to be shafted by Merlin’s sword at some point before the night was over. Some friends you get together with every weekend to throw back some brewskis, some friends you get together with every so often to talk about old times, and then there are some friends you get together with because, contrary to popular opinion, shit always runs uphill. And that was the kind of friendship that Solomon Lear and Thaddeus Snellgrove had. Lasting, loyal, and one that revolved around shit blizzards of various magnitudes.

As Lear asked what his poison was, Thaddeus talked and worked at the same time. He opened his briefcase and took out his own bottle of NOLET’s Reserve Gin and placed it on the headmaster’s desk while saying, “And getting older by the minute with the shit you all pull around here,” without bothering to look at him. While he was in there, he took out a fresh roll of parchment and a ballpoint pen. Pens were another thing muggles had gotten right. Why mess with re-inking a quill halfway through a sentence when you could have a pen you could refill in between writing sessions?

He snapped his briefcase shut and set it on the floor next to him. He then took his wand from within his robes and silently summoned a glass from across the room. Putting his wand away, he took the glass and opened the bottle, pouring in a few fingers of his own before sticking the cork back in and setting it on the desk. “Gin, of course,” he said as he took a sip before continuing, “Wish I could forget my first wife as easily as you did.”

Thaddeus had half a mind to tell him to look the office up himself but he silently withdrew that wand again and flicked it at the door and heard a click, confirming it had been locked, before stowing it again.

At the mention of the other ‘incidents’, he reached into his robes and withdrew the owl he’d received from the school governor, placing it on the desk for Lear to read if he so desired. “I already know the broadest of strokes but the school governors, as always, are light on details.” He said as he took another drink and shook his head annoyedly, “As if I work for those assholes in the first place, guess they figured you’d call me anyway.”

He considered turning a cigar down, given he’d all but stopped smoking the older he got, but he knew he would regret it if he didn’t take one tonight. No, tonight, he would need all the vices he could get if he was going to survive this night relatively unscathed. He withdrew a Cuban of his own and bit the end off, ultimately putting it in his pocket. Taking out his wand again, he wordlessly cast incendio, carefully aiming at the end of the cigar, before taking a few deep pulls to light it. Once it was lit, he took a long drag and stored his wand once more. Cigar hanging from the corner of his mouth, Thaddeus took his pen and noted the time and date at the top of the parchment. He steeled himself for the worst and looked up Solomon, “Okay, lay it on me.”

Thaddeus made few notes Lear told the story of the secret hag invasion of Hogwarts. He was aware of this tale of woe from previous discussions but didn’t interrupt. He knew, as with all things Lear, that it took him a while to get to the actual point but there was obviously a reason he was telling the story. He also spared a moment to go back to the time in their misspent youth when he and Lear encountered a hag for the first time. Any interest was quickly replaced with horror, Thaddeus would be happy never seeing a hag ever again.

As Lear unsteadily got up, Thaddeus wondered if he ever even took the old piece of armor off of his chest. Hell, he probably slept in the damn thing. Was it in good nick? Sure. Did he dare get close enough to actually smell it? Absolutely not. He was snapped out of his reverie to Lear musing about hag slugs and his old partner. “I think the only way one knows those things is to see them for themselves. And I think it’s high time you stopped blaming yourself and traded in that damn plate for a set of robes. You’re in a school, not the field anymore. If you need the armor here then time to change is the least of your goddamn problems.”

He silently told himself off for his outburst. This was the true reason that he and Lear only met for world-threatening emergencies now. Ever since the death of his partner, Lear had been a paranoid shell of himself. Thaddeus had been through a phase of his own when his second wife died in a rune accident but he’d moved on. At least to Thaddeus’ eyes, Lear hadn’t. He was still frozen in time, as frozen in time as he was frozen in that armor. He had a different job but he was still the same person as the day it happened, just a little older and a lot more paranoid.

Thaddeus went back onto autopilot as Lear covered more hag ground once again. This at least explained the reason for the trip down memory lane. He clearly thought, or more likely rather hoped, that this could be written off as a hag incident, rather than the work of two deeply disturbed students. As Lear began to relate the events in question Thaddeus took copious notes, not bothering to look up and only occasionally puffing on his cigar to keep it from going out. Unconsciously speaking to no one in particular he mused, “Bellatrix Lestrange was far more deadly with a wand than a knife, dunno why she’s fixated on knives, or that bitch. May she rest in agony.”

Thaddeus noted the hiring of yet another school nurse and then began to get silently annoyed as Lear tried to explain this away as another hag incident. At last, Lear went silent and Thaddeus said nothing for a few moments. He finished his glass of gin and took one last, long drag on his cigar before he finally spoke.

“Well at least with the one that brought me here, doesn’t sound like hag work to me.” He said matter of factly before moving on, “This wasn’t a frenzied attack, this was planned and premeditated, this girl crept into the boy’s dormitory in the dead of night, prepared to kill a fellow student in his sleep. We’re lucky he picked that precise moment to wake up.” He said as he took another puff from the cigar before asking the question he’d been waiting to ask all night, “Solomon, why am I here? What do you need me to do for you?”

“And getting older by the minute with the shit you all pull around here.” He wa going to need to take notes for this one.

"Better than getting old all at once," he reminded him. Solomon had a rough run of things, not that he had not earned most of it.

“Gin, of course,” the lack of tonic was an abomination. “Wish I could forget my first wife as easily as you did,” just not the second.

"You don't forget, everything is just a distraction" something to fill the time until he toddled off this mortal coil. "Eventually there are enough distractions that you forget to remember until you remember and then you remember again," he was rambling but that was the consequence of libations.

Snellgrove would withdraw a letter from the Board of Governors. Lear would teeter in his seat and give the letter a curious squint. “I already know the broadest of strokes but the school governors, as always, are light on details.” That's weird. Thaddeus complained as he took another drink and shook his head annoyedly, “as if I work for those assholes in the first place, guess they figured you’d call me anyway.”

"Yeah-yeah, I get you," he took another sip as his voice slurred a bit. "Besides a needed drinking mate, I have to ask..." the contents of his tumbler sloshed from his careless treatment. "How did the board even find out? It just happened," he muttered his question to nobody in particular. "You were the first. --Only person I have called," it was an unspoken concern that had entered the back of head - who called them? The school nurse scarcely had the opportunity to deal with the girls. Nora had a full house of miscreants to deal with once the drama in the infirmary had come to a close. There was the Professor of Astronomy, what's their face and then there was the Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts who was hired on the recommendation of a wealthy benefactor. Take another sip, let the paranoia drown in the vodka.

They needed to move on and not dwell on speculation.

“Okay, lay it on me.”

Well, Lear did not go into intimate detail, but he gave the man the cliff notes. Snellgrove probably knew more than most about Solomon's reckless past. They had learned a lot of lessons, some perhaps a bit too late.

“I think the only way one knows those things is to see them for themselves. And I think it’s high time you stopped blaming yourself and traded in that damn plate for a set of robes. You’re in a school, not the field anymore. If you need the armor here then time to change is the least of your goddamn problems.”

"Aint ready for that," he admitted. Most assumed it was his paranoid nature that compelled him to wear the armor. A rumor he made no effort to dismiss. People would not understand the real reason he clutched to the buttery armor like a child would a security blanket. A memento from a life and a person long passed. "I never had a chance to say good-bye."

“Bellatrix Lestrange was far more deadly with a wand than a knife, dunno why she’s fixated on knives, or that bitch. May she rest in agony.”

"Historical inaccuracies aside," he let out a sigh and took in a mixture of second hand smoke and his own. "It is more the dangerous instability that the girls represent. Weapons. Drawing them. How am I supposed to tell their parents?" Not the parents of the two girls, surely they were prizes at home as well." Unless their parents were oblivious, they probably noticed the missing hatchet(s) and silverware in the one girl's homestead and in the other their child's violent and impulsive nature.

“Well at least with the one that brought me here, doesn’t sound like hag work to me.”[/b] Thaddeus concluded.

"-Almost," he announced hesitantly. The hags were not behind the attack but h discovered something else unrelated incidentally.

“This wasn’t a frenzied attack, this was planned and premeditated, this girl crept into the boy’s dormitory in the dead of night, prepared to kill a fellow student in his sleep. We’re lucky he picked that precise moment to wake up.”

Solomon sighed. It was mad. "One of the boys is cursed," not the girls.

“Solomon, why am I here? What do you need me to do for you?”

Yeah, business. Always business. "I need to discuss options. Seen a lot of things, but this is the first one I can't blame on a bigger bad. What the hell do I do with normal... well, normal-ish kids trying to murder one another?"

Thaddeus Snellgrove, Lawyer, Sitting Member of the Wizengamot

Thaddeus rolled his eyes at Lear’s feeble response. He was convinced that one day he’d leave this accursed castle looking like he’d just taken a drink from the wrong Holy Grail (he chose… poorly). It was just a matter of time given the veritable clown show that this castle was prone to turning into. “I wouldn’t say it’s outside the realm of possibility, every time we have one of these little calamities I feel as though I’ve aged a thousand years.”

When Lear attempted to explain what a distraction of a distraction distracting you from another distraction a look of utter bewilderment crossed Thaddeus’ face. Just how much had he had to drink already? He sounded like he was three sheets to the wind. At least he wasn’t slurring but still. Not a good look, attempted murder, and the Headmaster sounds white girl wasted. “Maybe you should switch to water for a bit,” he said in a joking tone, even as the message was completely serious.

Thaddeus gave a skeptical laugh as Lear asked how the School Governors had found out. Honestly, how did he not know? The very idea of being so utterly clueless at something that was right in front of his face was hilarious to him. He slowly surveyed the portraits of previous Headmasters on the wall and couldn’t help himself, “How indeed?” He asked with a chuckle as he opened his briefcase and refilled his drink. Still, he’d better explain his theory before Lear started interrogating random staff members. “Just look around you, look around the school.” He said as he gestured to the portraits on the wall. “All these portraits in the school, I would bet that every single governor has a portrait that matches one somewhere in this school.” He said matter of factly before adding, “Something happens, the portrait fucks off to its companion piece in a governor's home, and there you have it.”

Thaddeus didn’t really know what to say when Lear referred back to the armor. He really wanted to find a way to push him past it but now wasn’t the time. Still, he knew Lear living in the past prevented him from fully embracing the present. He knew Lear would end up probably a far more effective Headmaster if he could get him past it, but he knew talking about it and doing it were two vastly different things. For the moment, he let it pass.

And then his jaw dropped. One of the boys was actually cursed. He was certainly not expecting that. His mind whirred at the possibilities and perils that such a thing brought on. “Cursed,” he repeated blankly, “Like a hag curse… or… like what are we talking? I take it they’re being properly isolated and… treated?” That seemed like the thing to do. (Damnit Jim) He’s a lawyer, not a healer. All he knew is that it certainly needed to be dealt with quickly and properly.

Finally, Lear got to the reason for the visit. He wanted to know what he had to do. The answer was pretty clear to him but he supposed he’d better spell it out as clearly as possible. “Well, needless to say, this is a tough spot that needs to be handled quickly, properly, and decisively.”

He once again glanced at some of the portraits of the previous Headmasters and Headmistresses. He wanted to convey urgency but he also didn’t want to berate a friend. He finally just started, “Solomon, you’re one of my oldest friends, I’ve always tried to get you a free reign from the Ministry but I don’t know if you fully understand the perils of this situation.”

“As we were discussing, the Governors already know,” he paused as he mapped out the mechanics in his head. “Within the next hour, most of the Ministry will be aware of what happened here. The Prophet probably another hour after that. Hell, if they’re quick about it might end up in the morning Prophet. It’ll for sure be in the Evening Prophet, above the fold for all to see.” He paused again, trying to emphasize the need for quick action. “You’ll start getting your first owls from concerned parents by lunchtime at the latest. And from there, well, you get the idea.”

“Everyone understands that there are inherent risks that come with running a school for wizards. They were all content to look the other way when…” He reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out an actual list to emphasize his point. “Look, I’ll be blunt, we’ve had giant attacks, shadow spiders… don’t even want to know what those are, hag attacks, an actual fight club, a forest fire… oh, the rune disaster in the Hufflepuff common room… a train heist… how do you have a train heist on a train full of… nevermind - a blood curse - not to be confused with a hag curse… a terrorist attack. I could go on and on.” He put the list back in his pocket before pressing on.

He took another drink as he considered his words for a long moment, “I’ve always admired how you handle this clown show but, Solomon, this time you have to do something, there’s no other way around it. This is bad. These aren’t magical incidents, these are students trying to kill each other in cold blood!”

“So let’s start by being practical - In terms of right now, you have two kinds of trouble to be worried about. Actual trouble and PR trouble. You are in no actual trouble. You didn’t do anything wrong, you weren’t negligent, it sounds like a student smuggled a bunch of knives in and the school does not have a history of searching the students save for a brief spell during the Second Wizarding War. Your problem is PR trouble. Everyone is going to freak out because of this and you need to get ahead of it. As I said before, this requires decisive action.”

“I’ve come up with a few options, they’re designed to do two things.” He began as his gaze wandered aimlessly throughout the room. “First and foremost, keep the students safe and keep this school functioning normally. Second, I’m trying to protect your reputation and the school’s reputation. You need to take strong action that will shield you, the school, and the Ministry from liability if, heaven forbid, something else should happen.”

He let out a deep, pained sigh as he wished he could’ve had another cup of coffee. “The way I see it, you have three options. One, do nothing. I want to stress that this really isn’t an option. If you do nothing they’ll be calling for your resignation by noon if not sacking you outright. You have to do something about this most recent one. A fight is one thing, but standing over the bed of a sleeping student and preparing to drive a knife through their heart is a completely different matter. It is deliberate and premeditated. I think the safest and most appropriate option is expulsion. There’s really not place for it here and your paramount duty is to keep the students safe, and I just don’t know how you can do that when you’ve got one trying to play operation with no anesthesia.” He allowed himself this one little joke to cope with the sheer insanity of what he was dealing with. “Now, if there’s mitigation in this student’s background, you may have a third option. Suspended this student for the rest of the year, make them take a course of treatment at Saint Mungo's to deal with the issues they have. But that’s really the only option if you want to have this student return. I strongly urge you to expel them. You would open yourself to [i[massive[/i] liability, both against the school and personally if you let this student remain and God forbid they kill someone.”

With that, he fell into silence. As far as he was concerned there was nothing more to say. He could only hope that Lear would expel this student, it was the only sensible thing to do. As much carnage as the school could tolerate, this was a step too far, and allowing it to occur again was unconscionable. Then he had another idea and spoke up once more.

“Just thought of a fourth option,” he began, “Expulsion with leave to reapply after they receive treatment at Saint Mungo’s and they’re cleared to return. It’s basically the same thing as suspending them but it sounds much more decisive and is exactly the kind of response you need to this…” He thought it through in his head before he continued, “This is good because it shields you really well from liability, you can say ‘I expelled them, they treated them with their potions or… therapy or… hell, memory modification, whatever’, bottom line is it insulates you and the school.”

He thought he was done before continuing once more, “Oh, last thing you need to drill into your skull. Don’t talk about arrests, jail, Azkaban, or whatever. If you’re the first person to mention that, the narrative becomes ‘they’re letting her back but they clearly think she’s going to do it again’. Don’t mention it, ever. Leave it to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and stay in your lane.”

Everything laid out he finally let out a hollow laugh, it wasn’t funny, it was just stupid but he couldn’t help musing out loud. “I… I just don’t get it… these kids are magical… why the hell are they using knives… it’s just so… muggle.” He chuckled again and threw his hands up. “Boggles the mind really.”

Mentioning: @Solomon Lear

His legal counsel knew how to spin a narrative. It was less about who was right or wrong, but how others write about the right or wrong. There were concerns for liability, and with a more rational, less exhausted mind the words of wisdom imparted by Thaddeus would have had greater impact. The seasoned lawyer was not wrong, he had done this time and time again whereas Lear had experienced the other side of 'problem-youth' time and time again. He saw the impact of their stupidity on their friendships, on their peers and on the other people in their lives that their selfish, thoughtless choices affected.

Had he been in his right mind. Not just sober, there was more to it than that. Issues that Thaddeus might have been aware of but it is easy to forget the wounds that cannot be seen, to see the bottom of a once full glass as a symptom of self-medication rather than diversion. He was not much for sleep or hobbies anymore.

“Maybe you should switch to water for a bit,” his counsel suggested.

"It sort of tastes like water," rather than fire and piss "already," he commented. He let out a sigh as he pulled out his wand and placed the tip just inside the rim of the glass and muttered "Aguamenti." Like a faucet turned on, from the tip of his wand a lazy stream of cold water would fill the glass, a bit spilling over the rim.

His hand had a bit of a tremor, leaving a ring on his desk as he pulled the glass to his lips. Maybe he was right. His vision wavered. He was not sure how word had moved as quickly as it had. From the dorms to the school governors in such short order.

“How indeed? Just look around you, look around the school.” Thaddeus would gesture towards the empty walls in a room with spartan accommodations. Bare walls, empty shelves, just a great fireplace that was gated off and locked with a heavy lock, more than one in fact, some tables and cabinets which were for the most part empty. No knick-knacks and baubles, no gizmos and what's-its. Just an oversized desk that seemed to somehow fit such a cavernous room that was littered with papers and at this moment a pair of tumblers and a stoppered bottle. “All these portraits in the school, I would bet that every single governor has a portrait that matches one somewhere in this school.” His vision wavered for a moment, what portraits? Not these portraits, the ones that were gone, but rather the ones that remained in other places. The halls primarily, Ava and Thorn both would have been escorted before dozens of curious spectators. “Something happens, the portrait fucks off to its companion piece in a governor's home, and there you have it.”

“Cursed,” he repeated blankly. A bit out there he was well-aware, that was not something that Thaddeus likely expected to hear when he was summoned for a 'knife' incident between two young wizards. “Like a hag curse… or… like what are we talking? I take it they’re being properly isolated and… treated?” Well, treated was indeed the right word. Past tense and managed, thankfully quietly in spite of the fact that there was a rather famed victim among them. A family so interested in appearances, the kept it vague and in this specific incident, it worked out 'for the best' for the school.

"Worse than that," he admitted. "You remember those ladies," if he could call them (yes, hags) that "that we met in out fourth or was it fifth year?" They were really too young to be out there, there was a reason kids were not supposed to go there. "How they asked us what we wanted and we told them." They wanted what everyone wanted as a kid, popularity, looks, love, means. Even if they had all of these things, they could always crave more. "It was pretty quick we caught on, the means they were giving us came at a price. The little phials we peddled now and then at their behest both at the school and sometimes Diagon Alley or other places. Nobody suspected a well-born and bred boy to be handing out such addictive wares." Maybe Thaddeus was a better and as a consequence oddly enough less honest youth and poured out that inky black liquid into a plant or a drain, but he was one of the ones dumb enough to keep his word. He was not alone, there were others too, but then they would see the consequences of their peddling - darkest night. Well, an early incarnation of the stuff of nightmares, an easy out for people that lacked the will, the connections or the mental fortitude to deal with the day, their disappointment and their failed aspirations. It was rudimentary in comparison to what it had become in the 2000s, years after they had left the school and forgot entirely about the hand that they played in the early days as dumb kids. "I was pretty sure all of us backed out, I know I did after a few weeks... after I saw that it did more than make people a bit giddy." It was killing them from the inside out, left them mentally instable even between doses. Eventually the very thing that would kill them would be the only thing that they sought. He was never a good man, tolerable at best but he was no killer and neither were the rest of them. Well, most of them. darkest night dried up for the most part after they had a crisis of conscience, but it would spring up again and again over the years in 'new' and 'improved' forms. An evolution of sorts, different forms but similar circles years apart. The infamous batch from the 2000s, the academic generation after the both of them was the most successful. Injections rather than consumption, faster effect and a more profound, protracted sense of glee. Less delusions, but a strange dark mark and the same dependence and slow internal rot that those who partook never thought much of, always assuming that they would die young.

A bottle of bliss in exchange for a future never fixed

"It was, no is back in another form," he admitted referring to the darkness that had plagued the students. "Same dark marks, but this time there was life in the darkness. This time it spread without imbuing. There was just pain..." his voice trailed off. There was always pain, but the pain was dulled by want back then. Solomon had been chewing on this for some time. "I don't think whatever it was we were giving out was recreational after all," he admitted. There was a well of guilt, a true lack of understanding. That the thread goes back to their time, perhaps even before.

Back to the real problem. Solomon was just drunk rambling. Thinking about a past long forgotten. Hags long dead. Mistakes that never killed anyone, just enabled people who would have had the same issue with or without their involvement. “Well, needless to say, this is a tough spot that needs to be handled quickly, properly, and decisively.”

Solomon nodded in agreement. There were no portraits of the previous Headmasters and Headmistresses, they had been stollen when Solomon was taken and held for those months. They were witnesses to an incident and they were taken along with the man. No message conveyed regarding what happened. No evidence of where those portraits were taken. Nobody suspected of taking him and if their enemy was known by Solomon he was not talking.

“Solomon, you’re one of my oldest friends, I’ve always tried to get you a free reign from the Ministry but I don’t know if you fully understand the perils of this situation.” He sighed, Thaddeus was probably right. No, he was right. Solomon never had a head for these sorts of things, much like magizoology. There as always people for that, the figuring things out. He was the face and the name. A pureblood from a good family with a good upbringing.

"A full time job for you more than likely I am afraid," thankfully his days of parties and women were over otherwise he would be asking for his expertise in family court as well.

“As we were discussing, the Governors already know... Within the next hour, most of the Ministry will be aware of what happened here. The Prophet probably another hour after that. Hell, if they’re quick about it might end up in the morning Prophet. It’ll for sure be in the Evening Prophet, above the fold for all to see.” Thaddeus explained and there was something sinking in the pit of his guy as he said it. These kids and their selfish choices hurt more than themselves. It would be easiest, probably for the best to expel them. Perhaps even press charges. Placate their families. But that would mean an end to those two very stupid little girls lives. They probably deserved it but the notion bothered him. Not that they deserved his consideration or worry. The only problem was, while he gave himself an ulcer trying to find a way for them to not be expelled, he was possibly giving up his career and life's work because they were idiots. He resented the two of them for that.

"Yeah, was afraid of that," he admitted.

He was not stopping there. “You’ll start getting your first owls from concerned parents by lunchtime at the latest. And from there, well, you get the idea.” He was going to be raked over the coals for the acts of another. If he tried to help them in some way it would be even worse for him.

“Everyone understands that there are inherent risks that come with running a school for wizards. They were all content to look the other way when…” Thaddeus reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out an actual list to emphasize his point. “Look, I’ll be blunt, we’ve had giant attacks, shadow spiders… don’t even want to know what those are, hag attacks, an actual fight club, a forest fire… oh, the rune disaster in the Hufflepuff common room… a train heist… how do you have a train heist on a train full of… nevermind - a blood curse - not to be confused with a hag curse… a terrorist attack. I could go on and on.”

"No-no," Lear waved his hand as if to get his attention. "The hags are... did... yeah, the blood curse," he tried to make it coherent but he was not doing the greatest of jobs. "It is now in the blood. Well, was... fixed, I think." He spoke too soon of course but how was he supposed to know? Thaddeus put the list back in his pocket before pressing on.

Thaddeus took another drink and as the glass started to get low, Solomon would let the tip of his wand enter the lawyer's glass. One of them was going to need to be mostly sober in the morning. “I’ve always admired how you handle this clown show but, Solomon, this time you have to do something, there’s no other way around it. This is bad. These aren’t magical incidents, these are students trying to kill each other in cold blood!”

"Yeah, yeah I know," he replied glumly. He was not being dismissive with his comment.

“So let’s start by being practical - In terms of right now, you have two kinds of trouble to be worried about. Actual trouble and PR trouble. You are in no actual trouble. You didn’t do anything wrong, you weren’t negligent, it sounds like a student smuggled a bunch of knives in and the school does not have a history of searching the students save for a brief spell during the Second Wizarding War. Your problem is PR trouble. Everyone is going to freak out because of this and you need to get ahead of it. As I said before, this requires decisive action.” He was right of course. Solomon did nothing wrong. The staff, from Professor to head of house to prefect had done nothing wrong. Whoever supplied a minor with a trunk full of weapons however had. The minor who had given another minor a weapon. The minor who attempted to use the weapon. The fact that it was done in the dead of night while a victim was asleep. There was no self-defense scenario. No moment of passion. It was first degree with intent. And the kids was still around, probably not understanding (still) the gravity of their choices. What it meant for the other students, their professors and their way of life. The contraband recovered from some of the rooms was concerning but for the most part pretty much expected. The issue was, these lapses in good judgement would have amplified consequences following their terrible decision.

“I’ve come up with a few options, they’re designed to do two things.” Solomon would grab a blank sheet of paper. No, the backside of something not terribly important and brought a quill to the sheet. “First and foremost, keep the students safe and keep this school functioning normally. Second, I’m trying to protect your reputation and the school’s reputation. You need to take strong action that will shield you, the school, and the Ministry from liability if, heaven forbid, something else should happen.”

“The way I see it, you have three options. One, do nothing." If only that was possible. To put his head in the sand and let Dawin sort them out. "I want to stress that this really isn’t an option. If you do nothing they’ll be calling for your resignation by noon if not sacking you outright." He was right. It was the position he was put in and if he had to choose himself or them, he would have to choose them. it was not his responsibility to facilitate their violent, shallow existence as short as it might be. "You have to do something about this most recent one. A fight is one thing, but standing over the bed of a sleeping student and preparing to drive a knife through their heart is a completely different matter. It is deliberate and premeditated. I think the safest and most appropriate option is expulsion." The end of a wizard. Without training, they would never fully develop. They would have to take their wand. Live the life of a squib, a fate almost as bad as death. Without training and a wand, there would be a loss of opportunity. Thaddeus' words would interpret his thoughts. "There’s really not place for it here and your paramount duty is to keep the students safe, and I just don’t know how you can do that when you’ve got one trying to play operation with no anesthesia.” It was mad to even try to consider saving them. They did not deserve it and if he took the words of one of the girls to heart, they were proud of it. this was a point of bragging rather than shame. “Now, if there’s mitigation in this student’s background, you may have a third option. Suspended this student for the rest of the year, make them take a course of treatment at Saint Mungo's to deal with the issues they have. But that’s really the only option if you want to have this student return. I strongly urge you to expel them. You would open yourself to massive liability, both against the school and personally if you let this student remain and God forbid they kill someone.”

And that weight, like a dozen lead balls in his gut would weigh him down. He wanted to pick option three, in spite of the risk. The risk none of them deserved he took. A risk he would come to regret taking for them because he valued them and their stories more than they did. "I can't," he muttered gravely. "I-- Can't just send them off," not to St. Mungos but to the wizarding world so young and so untrained. "You know what sort of life there is for them," or rather lack of one, "if we expel them. [They're] Basically squibs," a dirty word between purebloods, even worse and more fearsome than mudblood. A fall from more than grace, but from promise and hope. There had to be another option, something that they could do for them that would not destroy them before they even had a chance to live their lives.

“Just thought of a fourth option,” Thaddeus claimed in perhaps an afterthought. “Expulsion with leave to reapply after they receive treatment at Saint Mungo’s and they’re cleared to return. It’s basically the same thing as suspending them but it sounds much more decisive and is exactly the kind of response you need to this…” Thaddeus' voice trailed off and Solomon gave his friend a dull look from top of his glass. Watered down drinks were hardly the best choice at the moment, but the best way to prevent a hang over was to never stop drinking. “This is good because it shields you really well from liability, you can say ‘I expelled them, they treated them with their potions or… therapy or… hell, memory modification, whatever’, bottom line is it insulates you and the school.” And more importantly places the onus of the blame for their failure to reintegrate on St. Mungos. Something that he would not be able to make regular practice of if they fail. St. Mungos would likely be unwilling to consult in the future. A risk still, but a smaller one. He nodded hopefully.

“Oh, last thing you need to drill into your skull. Don’t talk about arrests, jail, Azkaban, or whatever. If you’re the first person to mention that, the narrative becomes ‘they’re letting her back but they clearly think she’s going to do it again’. Don’t mention it, ever. Leave it to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and stay in your lane.” The media and the 'look' they conveyed was more important than the actual choices they made.

"Got it," he agreed. "Send them off for treatment, put their recovery on St. Mungos and keep it about treatment and rehabilitation, not about the risk and the crimes committed," he parroted in his own words.

Thaddeus would let out a laugh. It seemed not particularly fitting considering the situation. “I… I just don’t get it… these kids are magical… why the hell are they using knives… it’s just so… muggle.” Solomon let out a little cough and laughed a bit but his was low and more like a rumble. “Boggles the mind really.”

"Can't say either were promising witches, although one thinks she is going to be the next Bellatrix LeStrange," essentially a nobody, notable for being associated with Voldemort. It was like idolizing the ball boy for a baseball game. "No idea where she even learned the name, if she had spent that time learning and practicing, might have some concern in a few years," he admitted. it was his turn now to pause, "and in case I end up on the floor at some point, I best say it now -- thank you Thaddeus."