Claiming Quarters

[Robert Shaw]

He had been told where his office was and finding it posed no severe task. The hard part came to settling into it. Two ferns now rested at either end of a windowsill, light green curtain shades thin enough to let the light through when the sun shone, but think enough to block some of the light itself.

An old portrait of his mentor, Pomona Sprout, lay leaning against the wall, the desk having two boxes on it,a third remaining closed and off to the side on top of his trunk. As he prepared to place a third fern on the windowsill the sound of the ajar door hiring the wall caused him to drop the plant, the clay pot shattering against the stone.

Murmuring a few words under his breath he turned as calm as possible to whomever had caused the intrusion.

(Open.)

[Banks Gallaudet]

Ever since Banks had returned he seemed to be even more stressed out than he had been in Norway. One of his mother's cats had somehow gotten itself in Banks' luggage and curled up amongst the clothes. Not until he had entered the Entrance Hall had he known the cat was even in the bag.

And so, for the past days Banks had recieved at least four letters a day from his mother asking about the cat, while Banks had the responsibility of making sure the cat was in his sight at all times. It didn't help that the castle was huge, and the cat liked to wander.

On the chase of the cat, Banks saw its tail round the corner of the first floor corridor and he immediatly ran after it. He saw the cat sqeeze into one of the offices. At the speed the cat was running the door was opened suddenly and slammed against the opposite wall. Banks heard the shatter was he reached the doorway.

[Robert Shaw]

A man was before him, presumably, hopefully another professor. Not even waiting for words to come from the man's mouth in explanation he shook the dirt from his shoe and walked around to lean on the front of his newly acquired desk.

"Good day, sir." He said calmly, as though one of his clay pots hadn't just been shattered over his foot. The man, like all others known, was unknown to him. Faces from his past here long gone, moved on, or simply dead. It was time to put the dark ages behind him and move on, help the magical world regrow.

[Banks Gallaudet]

Banks looked from the man to his shoe to the shattered pot then finally back to the man. He opened his mouth once but shut it as he saw the cat under the desk.

"I'm terribly sorry, the cat...I was trying to catch it." he said not really getting the point across. "I'm terribly sorry. I hope you are not injured." Banks said again, though it did not seem that the man was in pain.

[Robert Shaw]

"Cat?" Came the confused one word reply. He hadn't seen, nor felt a cat anywhere in the room. All he knew was his door was opened with a strong force behind it.

Following the man's gaze he gave a small chuckle. "Oh, now I see, cats a fast creatures indeed Mr. ... ?" He trailed off as he recalled he had no name with which to call the stranger.

[Banks Gallaudet]

Banks shook his head and extended his hand to the man. "Sorry, Gallaudet. Banks Gallaudet. Potions Professor." he told the man.

Banks glanced at the cat again and then turned to the door. "I hope you don't mind if I close this. I don't want it to get out.." he said.

[Robert Shaw]

"Don't mind at all, cats are elusive little devils with fur, its a known fact." Robert retorted with a wave of his hand.

Matching gallaudets hand with his own he gave it a short, but firm shake. "Robert Shaw, Herbology. A pleasure sir." He claimed, the last name ringing a vague bell from recent conversations but as to where it, like other recent memories, eluded him.

[Banks Gallaudet]

"Nice to meet you." he nodded.

Closing the door, Banks continued to keep an eye on the cat hoping it would not try anything else that would end up in destruction.

"Yes they are." he smiled. "It is one of my mother's cats. Slipping into my luggage before I came back."

[Robert Shaw]

"And I shall assume mother, is worried sick about her ball of fluff here, eh?" He questioned as he peered under his desk at the cat, currently examining the small clumps of dust that resided under the desk.

Cats, amusing, loveable, yet also bothersome, what a package.

[Banks Gallaudet]

Banks nodded his head sadly and smirked. "I never should have explain to her how to use an owl." he said. "Four letters a day I get about this cat. How is the furball? Am I feeding it?" Banks sighed.

[Robert Shaw]

"How old? Your mother I mean, age is a factor in allot of things, as well as if she lives alone. If she lives alone the cats are all she has. Therefore, she's worried about all she has left that she can actually say is living." Robert claimed halfheartedly. His mother had passed a year or so back, he didn't have this problem, but his mothers passing wasn't exactly his choice either.

"Please, have a seat, its what these things are here for." Robert added chuckling as he claimed one of he three chairs that perched themselves in front of his desk.

[Banks Gallaudet]

Banks frowned thinking about what the man pointed out and knew that he was right. She was alone now, but the woman never eased up on Banks. Sitting down in the chair which was offered, he sighed.

"She's 63 and lives alone. My father passed away a short time ago. She's a muggle." he finished.

[Robert Shaw]

"And I'll assume she doesn't wish to understand the magical world, or, at least as little as is needed?" Robert continued, trying to understand the situation more. If anything, he would be able to help his colleague at least in understanding the situation a little more from the woman's point of view.

The funny thing was, Robert, had never been married, how he knew what he did was beyond him, he simply did.

[Banks Gallaudet]

Banks nodded, "Wants nothing to do with it, and wants to suck all magic out of me." he said. Why he was telling the man all this he was not sure.

[Robert Shaw]

"Typical mother I suppose, you think your free, and then they show up one bright sunny afternoon, bringing the gray clouds with them." Robert stated, pausing briefly.

"Well chap, best I can tell you is if the cat lives long enough to get home, your safe. Cat dies, you can expect a howler. As, if the cat bites the drink, she'll know. She'll feel it, just like...anyone else feels a death." He finished frowning.

Folding his hands in his lap he took a quick glance under the desk at the ball of fluff, who's ears seemed to perk up every so often.