Divine Interjection Closed

@Evelynn Decipio

Peace. A universal descriptor often associated with silence, and a still mind. So intangible a feeling that many lives had been spent hunting its elusive touch. And so often were those lives expended in vain, haunted by the pursuit, yet never rewarded by the grace of their quarry.
Though even as some struggled and fought, there were others upon whom peace alighted with ease, demonstrating its own fickle nature by greeting them which never deigned to seek it out. Shying from reaching hands and chasing those that beckoned, the unattainable notion desired only to greet minds who begged not its presence. Indeed; in the search for peace, the key was not to find, but to be found.

Halford did not want to be found. He'd gone to great lengths in his lifetime to ensure such a fate never occurred more than was absolutely necessary, aided by an uncanny ability to know exactly where those who searched for him weren't. His peace was born in solitude, beyond prying eyes and - more importantly - insufferable mouths. Truly, the man liked to think he didn't ask for much; simply that he might enjoy a night undisturbed within the classroom he oversaw, behind a door that he was quite certain he'd locked.
Evidently there resided some individual inside the castle who received a rush from informing children that a locked door was all the same as a cheerful sign which read, 'PLEASE ENTER! WHOEVER YOU ARE, WHENEVER YOU ARE, AND WHYEVER YOU ARE!'
At this point, Hal was beginning to consider creating such a sign. Perhaps these confounded juveniles would turn their noses up at the prospect that their presence was actually encouraged, seeing as more subtle hints like locked doors clearly inspired the opposite impulse.

Isolated within his office, the Divination professor had been slowly falling into the blissful embrace of sleep. It was rare he drifted off so early in the evening hours, but over the past couple of days, his mind had locked itself onto the unsolvable riddle surrounding his father's death. Almost thirty years had passed since that ill-fated trip out to sea, and yet everything still seemed as clouded as the skies that had mourned over the man's watery grave.
Something wasn't right about the story the crew had told his mother; he'd known it all that time ago. He'd obsessed over it throughout his juvenile years spent at Hogwarts, and dedicated his adult life to the pursuit of a justice his father had never asked for - a justice nobody had asked for; not even his mother.
But Halford lived for it. For its sake, he'd blocked out all else. Friends, family, the pursuit of a fulfilling career... even the one person who might have introduced him to the concept of cherishing another. All of it had been thrown away for that which held his waking moments in chains. Yet even as he tried to tell himself it was sacrifice, the previous two evenings had been dominated by a deeper knowledge - something that terrified him more than anything else - an understanding that it was only a waste. The true definition of a sacrifice for that which he could not achieve.
What might he have had, he'd wondered, if he'd simply ignored the impressions that the incident hadn't been an accident? If he'd allowed himself to live a normal childhood, pursue a career which awarded some sense of normalcy, and perhaps even start a family of his own?
The answers to those questions were irrelevant, however. No amount of pondering could reshape the past, so he'd done as he always had. Turning the gaze of his mind's eye forward, he'd refocused on that which offered some semblance of control, and even of vindication: the future. Where he would fall back into the same patterns the past continued to reflect, and focus on that which still seemed unattainable.

This mental wrestling match had been fought throughout the entirety of the previous two evenings, rendering him deprived of sleep over roughly sixty hours. Professorial duties finished - or discarded - for the night, the weariness had finally caught up with him, resulting in the fading state which the slight sounds would find him in as they drifted up to his office. Accustomed to complete silence within his classroom at this hour, Halford was roused immediately.
Eyes opening quickly, he did not deign to move from his position - chair leaned back, head resting against the wall and ankles crisscrossed atop his desk - for quite some time, intent simply to listen to the continued shuffling of an individual below as he contemplated letting them think they were alone. But then, it wouldn't do to let another presume they could enjoy free reign over his classroom.

Closing his eyes a moment more, he then allowed his feet to slide from the desktop to find purchase on the stone floor below. Pushing out of the oh-so-comfortable chair, the professor proceeded to stalk quietly to the doorway of his office, where he would displace hanging beads before scanning the darkness for his culprit. And there she was, audaciously occupying a pouf beside a table reserved for his students. Although the dim lighting repelled his certainty as to whether she was one of his students, he was quite certain a locked door indicated that said pouf was currently off-limits.
"T'door was locked, was i' no'?" He shattered the silence, tone more tiredly earnest than facetious. At this point, exhausted as he was, any memory of locking the door was fuzzy at best. On any normal night, he would have added the extra insurance of an anti-unlocking charm, but he wouldn't put it past himself to have forgotten in his current state.

Mist swirled in and out of focus. Hazy serpents trailing endlessly in seemingly random paths that circled and crossed, conjoined then split. O to be able to make sense of it all. To see past the haze and veil to the stories that lay hidden amidst their depths if only one had an Eye to See. It was supposed to be a simple endeavour. It had to be, no? Lest, why introduce such a form of divination so early in the education.

Cloaked in shadows, Evelynn pulled her legs ever closer, torso leaning over the table as though proximity would somehow help her plight. Like one of her many hefty tomes, she poured over the crystalline object, hands hovering to either side like blinders on a race horse, focusing her attentions in search of the meaning within the globe. Seconds passed, then minutes, and all she had to show for it was a developing headache as her own psyche began to resemble that which she tried in vain to decipher. There was just... nothing. No images. No shadows.

What was it that she was supposed to see? Perhaps her mind was racing too much? Need it be an empty head? How did one even silence the thoughts that spilled and raced, each stumbling over the next in their efforts to rise predominantly to the surface of her consideration? That had to be it, she reasoned. Nothing ever came when forced. Even studying could elude her if anxious thoughts overcame her, sabotaging efforts. Perhaps if she could quell the worries that had prompted her desire to See, then maybe she actually would.

Sitting straighter, Evelynn allowed herself a moment to close her eyes. Clear the mind. She took a deep breathe in through the nose, shoulders rising prominently. Clear the mind. Hold. One.. two.. three.. four.. five.. six.. Clear the mind. The breath released through slightly parted lips. Clear the mind. Again. And again. She repeated the process a handful of times until the thoughts had actually abated sufficiently in place of the serenity that had fallen with the attention to breathing. Now.

Resuming her position, she opened her eyes, fixing them on the fog with no particular thoughts as to what she hoped or thought she might see. She simply allowed herself to stare forward at the swirling mists—through the swirling—as though attempting to solve an autostereogram. And she was shocked to see something... else. Hidden behind folds and layers of fog, a figure began to emerge. It was difficult to make out, but she was almost certain that was what it was. Just the barest silhouette of a person. Or a hag, perhaps? She leant in closer, eyes narrowing, to try to make it out in better detail...

The sound of a voice snapped her right out of whatever focus she'd had, hairs immediately standing on end at the back of her neck, and she bolted upright as though burned by the very poof upon which she'd sat her rear. There was a crack! as her knee collided with the underside of the table; a bang! as the table's legs reconnected loudly with the floor on its return back down; and a shrill "Oh no!" as Evelynn lunged to catch the crystal ball that had pelted off the side of the table in the panic. As a credit to her time spend seeking, her hand closed around the underside of the globe, sparing it connection with the floor, and she snapped back upright, clutching the intuiting device close to her chest.

And there she stood for a solid few seconds, eyes peering into the darkness for the source, while her body worked to calm itself and her mind caught up with her reaction time. "P-professor!" she finally stammered out, the situation catching up to her all at once like waking from a dream. Quite uncharacteristically, she found herself at a loss of words, only too well aware that she was trespassing in dangerous territory as far as the rules were concerned. Fighting the urge to look towards the door in search of an escape, fingers pressed tightly against the cool surface of the unyielding sphere, using it as an anchor to get her suddenly sluggish mind working once again.

"I... ehm... I hope I did not disturb. I..." She trailed off momentarily, gaze sinking down to the crystal ball in her hands, lips pulling in sheepishly over her teeth as she pressed them together. She'd thought the classroom empty. How was he here! At this hour! She supposed it wasn't unreasonable to think that the professors might be up as late as the students—or later, even. But hadn't he a room elsewhere in the castle? They didn't actually stay in their offices... did they? Never mind... she gave herself a mental shake of the head and tried to find her way back to her previous train of thought.

"...I was on patrol.." For a brief moment, she considered trying to give the excuse of looking for troublemakers in hope that it might prevent her from landing exactly into that position herself. But she squashed that temptation swiftly enough. "...and... well... Yes," she finally deined to actually answer the question he had posed. "Yes, it was locked." Her gaze locked itself firmly at the man's feet with her admission. "I let myself in. I meant no trouble by it, I assure you... I simply hoped to gain some insight. To practice. Divination has not come as easily as I might have hoped..."

"In fact.." Perhaps emboldened by the momentum of her explanation, she lifted her gaze to seek his out and entreated the man with a hopeful expression. "Since you are here already... Would you care to lend me your valuable experience? I am not exactly certain how the visions make themselves apparent, or how to go about seeing them.."

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@Evelynn Decipio

Tired ears conjoined with a tired mind were promptly assaulted by a raucous clatter as the girl was seemingly shot from a cannon in the process of finding her feet, resulting in an unholy grimace on the professor’s face. The visible pain lingered for several moments, even as the trespasser stammered his title in an apparent attempt at an intelligent response.
”Aye, tha’d be wha’ they call me,” the drained reply would fill the empty space which trailed the student’s words, once he came to understand that ‘Professor’ was where her retort ended. ”Right impressive o’ yer.” Eyelids drooped slowly in an attempt to ward off the fatigue that beckoned him, before lifting once more to allow an assessment of the girl’s mannerisms.
As her gaze shifted briefly to the doorway which offered her only exit point, he considered drawing his wand in preparation to slam the door shut with one magical gesture, were she to make a run for it. But then logic caught up with his wearied mind, countering that if she fled, then he would be left alone with the only person in the world who didn’t possess a crippling desire to make his life more difficult. Unfortunately, she seemed overtaken by no such cowardly inclinations, apparently electing to ‘face the music,’ as it were.
Pity.

The stuttering mess continued before him, doing absolutely nothing to situate the girl in his good graces - not that such a thing existed. The very existence of other people generally vexed him as a rule, let alone those who had the gall to intrude upon his classroom without a prepared excuse as to why their presence there was quite necessary.
”No, lass, no. I’ve no clue why yer migh’ think me disturbed. ‘Haps it was t’ lack of a welcome ma’ a’ t’ door.” A flippant gesture of false regret was tossed into the air. ”Been meanin’ teh place one for an occasion such as this.”
Sarcasm likely wouldn’t do his image any favors, especially in the midst of a situation of this nature. But he was much too tired to care, not to mention he didn’t care when he was fully awake. So long as he could see his glowing countenance in the mirror, the appearance of any outward perceptions simply didn’t make his list of concerns.

At last, the intruder seemed to be on the verge of conjuring a false defense that might spare her his wrath. He all but physically leaned forward in anticipation as she stated she had been on patrol - indicating herself as prefect, which was news to Hal, considering he took little care to keep up with the latest student ‘hierarchy.’ Truly, the actual content of the excuse meant nothing as far as he was concerned; so long as he was given an escape route from the encounter, where he could pretend the story justified her actions and usher her out the door without a single peep from his dormant conscience, he would have been overjoyed. But alas, it appeared he had been accosted by a student whose own conscience was altogether more vocal than his - a rarity among rule breakers. Evidently, he’d won the jackpot. Yippee.

An answer was proposed to the question he’d been prepared to leave in the past, an infuriating confession that meant he now had to deal with a deliberate transgression. Why couldn’t the children of this generation tell a simple lie? It was so terribly easy, and would have resulted in a happy ending for both parties associated with this instance.
Irritation at not having been lied to bubbled in his chest, but he pushed it down enough to stop short of bursting into a spontaneous rage. He was dealing with a child, he reminded himself. Children were loud, foolish, and obnoxious, inspiring within him no speck of desire to be near them; but at the same time, they were clean. Perhaps not entirely pure - some dirtier than others, but at the very least, their hearts were not as tainted as their fully grown counterparts. As such, he would save real anger for those who deserved it.
But annoyance was cheap, and he would throw it around as much as he wanted.

As the girl revealed the root of her issue, two fingers found his temples and initiated the futile process of attempting to release the tension held there. She wanted him for a personal mentor.
Indeed, his official titles may include words such as ‘professor,’ or ‘teacher.’ But if one were to address him honestly, he could be called ‘reluctant instructor,’ at best. It was plenty arduous to endure the existence of his students during school hours; he refused to be saddled with the responsibility of private lessons.
Meeting her look of hope with one of cold renunciation, he replied, ”This is ‘ow yer make all your important requests, aye? Break into your quarry’s office in t’ middle o’ t’ night an’ pop your question?” The steady look of refusal bored into her for a silent moment, followed by a statement with a tone of finality, punctuated by a violent nod toward the door. ”My answer is no. Now begone wi’ yer.”

General Translations
-Yer = You
-Glottal stops often replace the T at the tail end of a word, indicated with a ' (Such as in tha'. Tha' = That, etc.)
-The 'ING' at the end of a word is generally left out (Breakin' = Breaking, etc.)
-The H at the beginning of a word and the D at the end of a word are left silent (Such as in 'ave and an'. 'ave = Have, An' = And, etc.)
-The F in words such as 'of' also tend to follow the previous rule. (O' = Of)

Lord have mercy did she ever sound like an imbecile. Even she could hear it. Like an out of body experience, Evelynn watched, every fibre of her being cringing, as she stammered and struggled her way through the uncomfortable interaction. Where was the confidence with which she usually presented herself? What had come of the carefully manicured composure, the cool inquisition that garbed her as readily as her school uniform?

Right then, standing awkwardly at the centre of the class, she was little better than an sub-optimal student. Worse perhaps, even, for how far she'd fallen in that moment. What was worse, any hope she might have had of recovering the situation was dashed down against the stone floor by the raising of the Professor's hands, the last shreds of her dignity ground mercilessly against his temples.

"No it... it is not... I.. er.." Were she anybody else, his chilly dismissal would have sent her retreating from the storm in search of warmer pastures and sending prayers to her God for the fortune of avoiding any meaningful consequences. Part of her even considered doing just that for a moment, eyes drifting back in the direction of the door. This transgression could easily have landed her in detention which would have been a mar upon her (nearly) perfect record; and quite the strike against her as a prefect. "Of course, Professor..." she murmured, apparently folding her hand before getting in too deep.

Tail tucked figuratively between her legs, she would take a step back, and then another, eyes falling to the floor as she made her purposeful way to the shelf from where she'd retrieved the crystal. Cushioning its descent with her pinkies, she lowered it carefully back into place. But although she started to pull back her hands, they stopped at the end of their withdrawal, when fingertips still brushed the cool surface of the polished sphere. She just couldn't quite shake the feeling that an opportunity was slipping through her fingers.

"Professor..?" Releasing the inside of a cheek she hadn't realized she was biting, she chanced a glance in his direction. "How does it work, really? Prophesizing, that is? Can you see if something bad is going to happen? Have you.."

She hesitated, wrestling with the idea of actually putting to voice the anxious thoughts that had made a bouncing castle of her mind. If he thought her a waste of space now, was she about to be dashing any hope of assistance from him in the future if she actually pursued this line of questioning? Would she find herself barred from the next class? But... she was a Gryffindor after all. She might not have been reckless and daring in the traditional sense of the words, but in the pursuit of knowledge, there was no barrier she wasn't willing to overcome by whatever means possible.

Swallowing, she started again, "The Samhain Festival is in three days..." Turning towards him, she let one hand fall to her side. Like the anchor keeping her safely rooted to some notion of security, however, the other kept its tentative connection to the divining tool. "Have you had any inclination about it? Any sense of... well... that anything bad is going to happen? Or... or does it not work that way?"

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