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Post by Tamis Raynor on Jun 1, 2008 14:04:52 GMT -5
A Saturday in Late November.
The ancient grandfather clock that had belonged to one of the Headmasters before her tolled twelve. Outside the many windows of the circular tower office birds chirped merrily, fluttering past the clear panes and among the autumn claimed tree tops below. The entire grounds were littered in the warm transition between summer and winter known as fall, an array of gold, reds, and browns scattered like a painting on the earth below. A handful of students had even ventured beyond the Great Hall for a lunch strewn among the jolly grounds, pumpkin pasties and chicken legs huddled in their arms. It was a joyous beginning of a promising afternoon.
But it seemed that its positive influence could not reach the woman staring out the window hundreds of feet above the scene.
The Headmistress listened to the last somber gong from the windowsill, gray eyes studying the grounds below. Usually at this time of day, she was elsewhere, keeping an eye on the school or even in the Great Hall itself, joining the school for one of the ritual meals. Often, she dressed casually, in simply robes that were roomy and comfortable. But today, she had confined herself to the vast Head’s office, garbed in gold embroidered robes that were rich without breeching gaudy, with her hair caught neatly at the nape of her neck. It was noon now, which means the individual she had called up there for the afternoon would arrive shortly.
This was the part of her position that she disliked. Student discipline was one thing. Having been a less-than-perfect teenager, most of their shenanigans did not faze her. Oh, she did not allow them to get away with it. But how firm the hand was depended on the situation. Growing up was a learning experience; the individual had to learn from their actions and take from it what they will. She could handle those conditions. But when the potential victim was an adult? She was out of her element.
There had been a number of concerns breeched around the school, most of which had reached her ears indirectly. The situation, whatever it was, would have been dealt with earlier if she had not heard of it in such a round about manner. The second part of her position she disliked. As Headmistress, she was officially the “boss” which strengthen already professional barriers between the rest of the staff and students and herself. She was often left out of the loop, even when she should not be.
But, innocent until proven guilty the old saying went, and resignedly, Raynor would adhere to it. But it would not make this meeting any less pleasant.
(Closed for Griffiths.)
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Alexander Griffiths
Hogwarts Staff
Professor History of Magic
...Angels guide me, but fate plays with me...[on:Color][of:Black and white]
Posts: 327
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Post by Alexander Griffiths on Jun 1, 2008 23:39:16 GMT -5
Bandages and blood, clearly not the best of things for Xander to start his day to. Especially when after going to the headmistress' office, he had to clean up his office and see what remained of his notes. They had to give me the sensitive artifacts? Why not send it in the main department? he thought, wincing every step his right foot made. One of the body part that was damaged the most, and then there's his left arm. Trying to walk straight, and avoide falling down. Xander winced with every step, but he knew these wounds were the least he could be worried about. The right leg injury was not that visible, but his left arm was on a sling. He'll just try not to wince everytime, he was going to talk with the headmistress and that was making him nervous.
Reaching the stone gargoyle, he stood there for a moment and adjusted his left arm to hide it in his cloak. When he was satisfied that his left arm was hidden he uttered the password and started walking up to the headmistress office. He had his left arm hidden, but his right leg was hurting. He knew she would probably inquire about his arm, but he preferred it hidden like this. He wasn't really up to people seeing him like this, and he rarely let people see him like this.
Xander sighed as he was infront of the door, he took a deep breathe before knocking on the door twice and opened it half way. "You want to see me, headmistress?" he asked, looking at the headmistress.
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Post by Tamis Raynor on Jun 23, 2008 13:34:03 GMT -5
She was getting soft.
There was no other explanation for her reluctance when a gentle double rap on her door echoed through the silence of the large office. For years, her reputation had preceded her. Calm, cool, and collective, there was not much Professor Raynor could not do or anyone she was not afraid to look in the eye – even if she had to look up to do so. She was still the same woman. Still had the same stubborn streak and underlying fiery nature. None of that had changed. But she should not be dreading the possible outcome of this meeting as she was. So, her conclusion was that she was getting soft.
It was not unreasonable. Her brief experience with her daughter had roused her more compassionate motherly instincts and her current – whatever you could call it – with Jedynak had roused a side of her that she had effectively squished for a good part of her life; a side that had a vulnerability she did not like. Shaking her head, in that brief instant of realization that the knock meant Griffiths had arrived and her reaction to it, she sighed.
No, it was not her loosing her touch or her personal life complications. It was the fact that she would have to admit that she might have judged a person incorrectly – and that her students might have suffered for it. Innocent until proven guilty, she would have to remember that. In Wizarding courts, the individual was often considered condemned until they could prove their innocence. It was difficult to tell herself she had to be a bit more… democratic.
The door cracked open without her having to ask for it, and the man she had called to her office politely informed her of his presence, his head poking through the crack. The rest of him, at that moment, was obscured from her vision.
“Yes, yes, Griffiths, come in, you are right on time.” She informed him, departing from the windowsill she had occupied and moving towards the large (and ancient) desk.
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Alexander Griffiths
Hogwarts Staff
Professor History of Magic
...Angels guide me, but fate plays with me...[on:Color][of:Black and white]
Posts: 327
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Post by Alexander Griffiths on Jun 23, 2008 16:19:30 GMT -5
“Yes, yes, Griffiths, come in, you are right on time.”
Xander gulped as he heard the headmistress say he can come in now, he was hoping he got it wrong. So he took a deep breathe and opened the door fully, exposing to her his cloak covered body and the obvious bulge of the cloak where his injured arm was. So he slowly walked, but there was an obvious limp and his face was enough to say that he was hiding the pain of his leg.
So he got to the desk and he sat down on a chair infront of it, then he looked at the headmistress. "What was it you wanted to talk to me about, headmistress?" he asked, looking at her with a surprisingly straight face despite the injuries he has. Xander wasn't going to let the injuries affect him much, but there was no point hiding it. He had to admit, it was fresh and painful.
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Post by Tamis Raynor on Jun 23, 2008 19:32:51 GMT -5
It might have been that the Headmistress had become so desensitized to petrified states when people entered her office, that she did not notice the History Professor’s hesitance. Or, it could have been that her gaze was automatically drawn to his ailments. He was either concealing a wand rather conspicuously under that cloak (which she doubted) or he was covering something he did not want her to see. She decided on the latter when combined with the limp and the contorted face males often produced when they were obviously in pain, but were too proud to admit it and caused more pain in order to cover it up – only voiding their initial reasoning.
Immediately, Tamis’ mind jumped back to Alfonz Jedynak and the bruise he sported much in the same manner that this man was sporting his injuries. The same night that he had admitted to … disagreeing with… over attention paid to his sister with Griffiths. She cursed herself for never considering the possibility that whoever gave Alfonz that bruise had come out of it worse than Jedynak had. It was too much to be coincidence and confirmed her initial suspicions, even if he had never told her directly the name of his attacker. … If Griffiths had been the attacker. Merlin. His hesitance on the subject could have stemmed from knowing that admitting to how he got the bruise could forfeit his career. She knew how dangerous he could get when it came to his sister… had experienced it first hand. He had not hit her, purposely not hit her, for a professional Quidditch Player did not miss. But she had not said anything near what he claimed had happened between Celina and this man…
She mentally swallowed hard and… for a reason she could not explain, became defensive of the very man she was mentally condemning. Jedynak had not been very stable that night. It had not been rage. It had been fear.
Whatever may have or may not have happened between the men, it was best to let sleeping dogs sleep. She would not fire Alfonz for such… and could not fire one and not the other. So, for now, she would be oblivious and get the facts later. For now, she pretended not to notice Griffiths injuries. The man was bearing them and an ex-healer’s eye told he was not about to land flat on his face. She could afford not to notice.
So, instead, she addressed his question.
Gray eye studied him coolly as if the prior scrambled debate had not mentally taken place and as if it was not still buzzing in her mind.
Well, she was never one to beat around the bush if she could avoid it. But the reason she had brought him here was too serious not to give some theatrics. In contrast to the cool reserve she held him with, her tone was suspiciously professionally pleasant.
“There have been some troubling rumors of late, Mr. Griffiths. Have you heard them?”
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Alexander Griffiths
Hogwarts Staff
Professor History of Magic
...Angels guide me, but fate plays with me...[on:Color][of:Black and white]
Posts: 327
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Post by Alexander Griffiths on Jun 25, 2008 15:22:45 GMT -5
There have been some troubling rumors of late, Mr. Griffiths. Have you heard them?
Xander nodded, looking at the headmistress still. "One of a violent Professor, a mad man, someone to be feared, hated, and so on... I've heard worse rumors about me, headmistress. And if ever you were talking to Alfonz Jedynak, you better ask him what he did to make me angry. And if ever my job is going to be taken from me, that will be fine." he said, looking slightly away from the woman infront of him. He admit, he did that to Jedynak. He got angry at Thornton and Hjort as well, but... that was anger triggered by something more emotional. If the headmistress studied Xander's blank face, she might see a hint of worry there, as well as sadness, and longing. It will take a very observant person to see it though, and he didn't know if the headmistress was still looking at him or somewhere else.
It was cold, and his arm was stinging from it. So Xander shifted the cloak over the arm more, not looking at the headmistress, but at the window behind her. One, he didn't want to loose his, but two, he needed to go to Rome and help search for his sister. What would he choose? It was something he couldn't really figure out. And then there was Annemarie, she told him to stay and to wait. Now how was he gonna stay, if he was fired? Hogsmead, maybe... But there were still things to be troubling at that. Things, Xander couldn't even explain himself.
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Post by Tamis Raynor on Jun 25, 2008 17:10:56 GMT -5
While her gray eyes never wavered from the man’s face, she saw none of the subtle nuisances in his expression that normally she would have picked up on. What she did notice was a middle aged man sitting before her like a pouting boy a third of his age. Sass in her staff she did not mind, in fact, she rather preferred it. However, there was a time and place to have a spine and she did not consider this moment one of them.
It was not his flippancy that caused one of her eyebrows to twitch, but rather the information she gained from it. Well, she now had confirmation on how Jedynak had scantly missed a black eye. But it invalidated her theory. Alfonz could not have thrown the first punch; if he had Griffiths would be claiming something about self defense and not aggression. A hint of relief washed with her, but with it came a bit more annoyance. And what did you do to make him feel it was necessary to motivate you to hit him?
Shoving her mental side track aside, she took a firm hold of her patience.
“And if ever you were talking to Alfonz Jedynak, you better ask him what he did to make me angry. And if ever my job is going to be taken from me, that will be fine."
“We are not here to discuss Alfonz Jedynak, Mr. Griffiths. His conduct is not the issue, yours is.” She responded to him, still quite calm, but her next statement had a bite to it. “If you are so smitten with the concept on unemployment that can be arranged. If not, I suggest you refrain from assumptions.”
Growing restless, the Headmistress rose from where she stood and folded her arms, still concentrating on the man before her, even if he had adapted a bored expression as he stared out the window with glazed eyes. A snap of her fingers and the curtains drew tightly shut on them, blocking the view outside.
“The staff here at Hogwarts has standards, Griffiths. Standards I take very seriously. Of which does not include letting your temper run rampant in the classroom or anywhere else on this campus nor spending more time than is proper with female students.” She paused for effect there, letting that point sink in. “This castle is first and foremost a school. As such, very little remains secret for long. Especially when you have resources at your disposal.”
One of the portraits of the former Headpersons on the wall (all of which had conveniently been pretending to sleep until now) cracked open an eye at that statement and then quickly shut it again. Another one, it was hard to tell which, let out a muffled snort.
“Bickering with your classes and early morning leisure adventures with a female student are not proper ways for a professor to conduct themselves. Can you explain these occurrences?”
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