No Free Tickets Out the Door (Phillip)

In many ways, N.E.W.T.s were a great equalizer among the student body. No matter how popular a student was, no matter how good at Quidditch, how pretty their face was, how many friends crowded around them every day, there was no promise that the N.E.W.T. exams wouldn't chew you up and spit you out. That's where the professors came into the picture. By the time a student became a seventh year, they'd all mostly like to believe that they didn't need anymore help from their instructors, but that assumption was usually wiped away pretty quickly after the N.E.W.T. information pamphlets were distributed at the start of the year.

Tim had been assisting students with their N.E.W.T.s  since his first year, however this year was a tad bit different. This would be the first year that Tim would be guiding students that were in his first classes through the exams rather than carrying over the students who were taught mostly by his predecessor. A great many students had been popping into Tim's office each day setting up meeting times to receive one-on-one instruction. Tim believed strongly in the power of this kind of instruction. Though there are countless merits in the traditional classroom setting, many students find themselves easily distracted by the classroom dynamic. Tim understood why there was a desire among students to have that stripped away and allow there to be just them, the professor, and the content. It didn't come as a surprise that his afternoons would fill quickly with these meetings.

What did surprise him though was one of the students who appeared in his doorway asking for assistance.

Phillip Donnelly had been in Tim's class for a few years, however he stuck out as one of the few students he didn't have a particularly positive rapport with. Quite the opposite really. Tim sensed a great deal of loneliness behind the younger wizard's gruff and grumpy outer exterior and, in the foolish honeymoon period of becoming a professor, had attempted to break through that outer shell. The only thing he'd found any success at on that front was getting the teen some work over the summer. Tim decided after that to not pry partly because his attentions were focused on the goings on at the castle and outside of it, and partly because he realized that there was little he could do to convince Phillip that there was more to life than closing one's self off to the world.

The request had been brief, but rather respectful. A knock, a simple and to the point request for a meeting time, and Tim looking at his quickly filling calendar and finding a spot for the young man shortly after the conclusion of the final lessons of the day. That day was today and Tim was preparing his room for the work that lay ahead. Tim pushed aside most of the tables in the room, leaving one in the center of the room. He brought out a second blackboard to rest next to his main one in case they needed more work space. On the table sat the two primary texts used in the advanced Arithmany course: Numerology and Gramatica and Arithmancy Applications to the Modern World. To top it off, Tim sat out some tea, pumpkin juice, and crisps, things that always helped him study.

While he waited for Phillip to arrive, he passed the time sitting on the edge of the table and looking over some recently turned in homework assignments.

Phillip had considered not asking for help, just figuring everything out on his own, but he was determined to pass his NEWTs and not end up in a waste of space job for the rest of his life. He was smart enough to know things weren't going to get more comfortable when he graduated. He was smart enough to know that even though he thought the entire institution of Hogwarts and its NEWT grades were useless, the rest of the world did not. So, in the end, he convinced himself it was better to ask than not.

While Phillip had found the professor's attempts at reaching out annoying, he did have a sort of reverence for the young adult. He was far younger than most of the professors, but he seemed rather intelligent, which was something Phillip could respect. The wizard just hoped today's lesson would be entirely academic and that his well-being and emotions, in general, would never come up. He frowned just thinking about it as he rounded the corner and finally reached the doorway of the office.

Knocking on the half-open door, he leaned against the smooth stone casing as he looked inside for the professor. Phillip noticed the tables shifted differently than during lessons, and his mind started turning and wondering why. He saw the snacks, the textbooks, and finally, the wizard he was here to see before he pushed off the frame and took steps toward him. "Afternoon Professor," he said plainly as he let his book back fall from his shoulder and held it by the top handle.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me," The Ravenclaw said through nearly gritted teeth. It wasn't that he couldn't be polite or respectful, but more so that Phillip hated asking for help more than he hated needing it. (And he hated that a lot too!) He was fiercely independent, and anyone who knew him had probably translated that to anti-social.

Tim was about halfway through an intermediate student's rather clever example of Arithmany in practice when a knock came at the door. He sat the paper aside as Phillip walked into the classroom. Tim noticed the lack of enthusiasm in Phillip's greeting. It didn't particularly surprise him, but he had to admit that he hoped there'd be some sort of emotion other than disdain floating in the room. Tim pushed it aside in his mind. After all, as he'd found out a summer ago, there wasn't much that he could do to change it. Tim stood from his position at the desk and pulled out a chair for Phillip as he walked the homework back to his desk in the corner of the room.

"I've taken the liberty of supplying copies of the reading, but I trust you have a data book and parchment handy." Tim spoke without his usual flair and excitement. He had decided earlier in the day that he was going try something a bit different. He didn't think that his usual excitement and generally sunny attitude was going to do much to ease the tension that would likely exist in the lesson. After all, he was well aware of Phillip's general desire to handle things himself and imagined that this was an uncomfortable scenario for the young wizard. Instead, he was going to almost emulate Phillips reserved approach and keep himself even keeled. He wondered if Phillip notice, and indeed if he would say anything. Perhaps seeing a mirror of his own demeanor would unlock some understanding

Tim walked over to the table and again sat on the edge of it. He spoke much less like his normal self, and far more like a professor. "The key difference between the OWL Arithmany exam and the NEWT Arithmancy exam is the area of focus. The OWL concentrates on Arithmany in principle. The facts, the things you cannot argue, with no room for assumption. However the NEWT concentrates of Arithmany in practice. It will take the facts as you know them and distort them. It will ask you to consider alternatives, it will ask you to find exceptions to the facts, and it will ask you to apply Arithmany to the real world which is far less fact based. The answers are not evident immediately. And indeed, there may be multiple correct answers and it will be your job to conclude which answer is most relevant to the question."

Tim stood with his back to Phillip and smiled to himself slightly before crossing his arms, removing the smile from his face, and turning on his heel to face Phillip. "There'll be no free tickets out the door unfortunately. This exam will test your understanding of a subject that has confounded even the most talented of wizards. However before I can guide you through the exam I must know what your plans to do with it are. If you're planning to use it to secure a job in this field, then I need to know as there are certain topics that will need to appear on your exam that may not appear on a standard NEWT. I'm talking a code breaker, a professor. Anything dealing with a profession."

Philip sat down in the chair designated for him silently and started rummaging through his bookbag. He'd brought everything he thought he might need, so he nodded when the professor mentioned them. The Ravenclaw had tried to come as prepared as possible to hopefully cut out the chitchat. If he had his workbook, had his quill, then maybe just maybe they could jump right in and skip the lengthy prep work. Phillip wanted to learn, he needed to pass his exams, but he was one heartfelt comment away from heading right back out that door and figuring it out. He was stubborn that way.

When the professor joined him back on this side of the classroom, Phillip was pleasantly surprised by his tone's lack of emotion. He was speaking; specifically, it was very technical, and Phillip nearly breathed a sigh of relief. Paying close attention, Ravenclaw nodded along as he quickly understood the professor's differences. Honestly, he preferred the practicality of the subject versus what they had learned about in previous years. Phillip put a lot more stock in magic he could physically use than theoretical spells. Quill posed above his parchment Phillip hadn't written any notes yet, because he didn't feel the need to, but his readiness was apparent.

Green eyes followed Professor Winchester as he moved from the table and turned around before speaking again. Phillip noted the way he was instructing, he realized it was different from how he typically taught and a far cry from the attempt at reaching his last term, and he was grateful for it. He wondered for a second if he was doing it on his account, but that line of thought made him appreciate it even less. The teenager hated being asked how he was doing, hated when adults tried to comfort him with nonsense advice, but more than that, he hated to be coddled. Was the professor this way just for him? Was Phillip self-involved enough to really think that?

"There'll be no free tickets out the door, unfortunately." The words rung in his ears, and Phillip sat back in his chair a little, half convincing himself the professor was harsher because of the subject matter. To prove how difficult it would be to really emphasize the challenge ahead.  Phillip stopped looking for emotional layers that weren't there just so that he could internally hate them. And then there was the question. "I don't have a job in mind yet, Professor," Phillip lied. He'd had his eyes on a job in the department of mysteries for the last two months. Ever since he'd learned, they had a set of magically bound archways that connected places wizards typically couldn't go. Phillip had searched for years to recreate the vanishing cabinet his mother and sister had been lost to, and he couldn't stop his curiosity from wondering if those archways could help. "Maybe a job in the ministry," Curse breaking, sure that sounded legitimate.

"I've looked into curse breaking, and that is a possibility."

Tim paced and back forth as Phillip took a moment to process his words. He noticed that Phillip leaned back at his no free ticket statement; it absolutely had his attention. Although Tim was putting on his best impression of a stern professor, what he said was true. The NEWTs were unforgiving. Tim was gifted in Arithmany from an incredibly young age. He practically jumped at the opportunity to take the class when he became a third year. In fact, he'd spent the near entirety of his second year lobbying for a bend in the rules to start taking the class early. All that and he still struggled with the exam to the point he nearly didn't complete it in time. If a student was taking a NEWT in the subject, they needed to be absolutely sure that they knew what they were getting into.

Tim nodded when Phillip stated that he wanted to pursue a job in the Ministry. He'd be a great fit with the Ministry, even if he seemed to be allergic to authority. "The Ministry is quite a goal. Especially for someone who's rather resistant to the idea of someone else being in charge." Tim went over to his desk and rummaged through some folders that sat in a drawer, drawing out four pieces of paper. He walked back over to the table Phillip sat at and laid each paper down individually, face up. "These are supplied to me by the Ministry to help guide in the creation of my lesson plans. Each outlines the required skill sets for different jobs within the Ministry."

The paper furthest to the left had a large bold titling reading All Level Curse Breaking. Tim put his finger on it. "This job would have you working in all departments breaking curses in a variety of different contexts be it curses placed upon rival sports teams being dealt with in the Department of Magical Games and Sports or curses placed upon unsuspecting crime victims in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. This is the easiest title to obtain due to there being an abundance of need."  The one next to that had a large bold titling reading Specialty Curse Breaking. Tim moved his finger over to this one. "This job would have you working exclusively within one department breaking curses relevant to said department. A bit harder a job to obtain, but there is typically still a need."

The third paper had a large bold titling reading Magical Law Enforcement. "Self explanatory. Many, if not most, positions will require at the bare minimum an OWL for Arithmany, NEWT however gets their attention more often. An exclusive department but not impossible." The final paper had a large bold titling reading Department of Mysteries. "Again self explanatory. However, it's difficult to obtain a position here unless you've really got the chops and the scores to back it up."

Tim gestured to the pages with a nod. "Pick one. I'm not asking you to fill out an application but knowing what you need will make this go by smoother and, as I'm sure you'll be overwhelmingly happy to hear, faster." Tim again crossed his arms, mustering all the seriousness he could. But make no mistake, deep down inside he was having a good laugh at his performance.

"Well, I don't plan on being anyone's lackey," Phillip retorted quickly even though he knew what the professor was saying was absolutely right. Phillip wasn't dumb enough to think that he'd join the ministry and immediately be allowed to do whatever he wanted. Phillip knew he would have to pretend to be a part of the system to get what he wanted out of it, but he'd make progress. At Hogwarts, he felt like he was just spinning his wheels, stuck, and unable to get anything done.

On the other hand, he also wasn't optimistic about getting his hopes up about the world outside of Hogwarts. He figured it would be just as dull, depressing, and lonely—especially that last one when he thought about the fact that he would be graduating years before Billie.

Phillip's inquisitive eyes followed the professor as he went to collect something from his desk, and he frowned openly when the paperwork was brought back. He should have guessed. Nothing happened in the ministry, or the wizarding world really, without the proper paperwork. Regardless of his own preconceived notions, Phillip's eyes traced over the words on the front of each pamphlet as the professor described them. None of the tasks really sounded attractive to him, until they reached the last booklet, but Phillip made sure not to give it away.

Whether it was stubbornness or paranoia, the teenager didn't want Timothy to really know what he was planning to do after Hogwarts. Phillip hadn't really told anyone, partly because he hadn't decided, but because the wizard was scared if he said it out loud, it would become something he could lose. It would become a real dream, a goal, something to look forward to, and he was vehemently against those sorts of things.

"This sounds tedious," he pushed the first one away, "And this seems boring," He set the second one on top of the first, and finally his fingertips reached the last pamphlet. "What sort of work does a Curse Breaker do in the Department of Ministries?" He asked as he opened up the packet to scan it.

Tim smirked a bit at Phillip's instance that he'd be nobody's second hand. Though he didn't show it outwardly, Tim agreed. Phillip was one of those rare sorts who, despite some of his personality hang ups, possessed a particular kind of dedication that could not be taught. He had a natural skill and that would without question be noticed by the department heads at the Ministry. Tim had certainly noticed it. Phillip didn't often make teaching him easy, but it was evident that information stuck with him. Tim never had to wonder if the young wizard would grasp a concept, he only had to wonder when and that was something he couldn't say about everyone who walked through his door.

He stood back as he watched Phillip work through his thoughts on each of the positions. When the boy stopped on the Department of Mysteries pamphlet, a little flash of excitement surged through Tim's eyes. It wasn't often that students sprung for such a complex, dangerous, and potentially draining job choice. Sure, students wanted to go into the Ministry often, but this department seemed to intimidate everyone. Partly due to the exclusivity the title, partly due to the lack of concrete information surrounding what would be required of you. Only those with close contact or connections to the Ministry and the department had much knowledge of it and lucky for Phillip, Tim being an Arithmany professor was one of those with some knowledge.

Tim looked at the pamphlet on the desk.

"Well it'd be far more than just simple curse breaking. Of course you'd come across that, but the Department of Mysteries is a bit more complex than that." Tim walked over to Phillip and placed both hands on the table, leaning forward a tad to make sure he had direct eye contact with the boy. "I'm not going to be giving away any sort of information that'd really carry much consequence about the department, but it is more information than the average person on the street would possess. My position has afforded me a bit of a closer look at the department than some and while that information has been supplied to me willingly, it's best that we don't volunteer the information to just anyone. Understood?"

Tim stood straight again and paced as he spoke. "The Department of Mysteries is an almost indescribable collection of rooms, the function of which not even all of the employees understand. It predates the Ministry itself, having been established sometime in the 17th century. It possesses within it very old, very complex, and occasionally aggressive magic. Some theorize that the department holds the keys to everything from controlling death to influencing the mind. To work in the department you will be required to do more than break curses. You'll be required to break apart ancient magic, create counters to uncover the significance of centuries old charts, to predict the unpredictable, to work with impenetrable code, to understand things that don't physically exist. It's Arithmany of the highest order. It's Arithmany in principle, practice, and theory. It's dangerous. That's why nobody can just walk in and expect to secure a job."

Tim took a sweet from the bowl on the desk and thought for a moment. "However..." Timothy paused, looking for his words. "You do possess a particular set of skills in this subject and an iron will which could do you a lot of good in somewhere like the Department of Mysteries. You have a chance. I can't promise you anything, but you have a chance all the same. More of a chance than many. But it won't come easy. You will have to have a near perfect showing on the NEWT. And knowing that tells us what we have to learn. You from this from this moment forward will need to operate with this subject like you are an Arithmancer yourself. Can you do that?"

In a way, Phillip knew what Timothy was saying was meant to scare him a little, warn him and prepare him for what would be coming his way if he pursued this career choice. And yet, all it did was stoke his interest even further. Of the three pamphlets, the Department of Ministries was the only one that was even remotely of interest to Phillip. He'd known it going it, but now that the professor was describing it in such a way, Phillip was sure. It was the most confident he'd been about a career choice in, well, ever. He listened closely, probably more intently than he ever would have during a lesson, and it was evident on his face that he was paying attention. His green eyes followed the professor, and he hung on to every word until the little sermon had come to an end.

It was a strange feeling, suddenly knowing this was precisely the direction he needed to go in. That sense of direction was relieving, enough even to keep Phillip from growing annoyed by the fact that the professor had, in less than ten minutes, told him more about the Department than he'd been able to learn through private research for two years. The secrecy and the lack of public knowledge just made it that much more apparent that this could be the piece of the puzzle he'd been missing. That this magic, this occupation, this hidden knowledge, could be exactly what he had been searching for.

It could be the answer to questions he didn't even know to ask yet.

And that meant he had to take it seriously. Being a good student just was not in Phillip Donnelly's DNA. He wasn't made that way, not even before everything happened to turn him into a bit of a cynical outcast. He was intelligent, but he grew bored quickly, it was hard for him to concentrate on what he thought of as fluff and nonsense during lessons. After years of a curriculum that was entirely biased to whoever was in charge, Phillip realized he'd have to teach himself if he wanted to learn anything useful. Plus, he was downright too stubborn to ask for help, usually. All of these things would need to shift, at least a little if he had any chance of succeeding here.

He knew the professor was trying to warn him, but in a strange twist of fate, Phillip actually felt like the professor was trying to help him too.

"I can do that, sir," He said as he set his jaw and sat up a little straighter. Trying to embody the look of someone who could do exactly what was described to him. Despite his lackluster grades and impressive detention record, Phillip had done rather well on his fifth-year exams. Well enough to grant him access to NEWT level Arithmancy. So he was on track, but he was far from at the finish line. "Will I need any other NEWTs, or is Arithmancy the most critical?" Phillip asked a look on his face that showed he assumed there would be more, but secretly hoped there wouldn't. He was intelligent and motivated, sure, but he was also lazy when it came to doing things other people told him to.

Phillip would have to do better this year than he had in the previous ones, but nothing seemed quite as impossible as it used to. He was sure he had Billie to thank, her optimism somehow rubbing off on him, but this term had already started better than the rest of his years pretty much combined.

For the first time that Tim could remember, it appeared his words were reaching Phillip. Really, truly, and actually reaching him. It seems that the Department of Mysteries struck the boy's interest. Tim wasn't exactly surprised that when given the proper motivation, a fire seemed to be lit under Phillip, but he was rather surprised that this was that fire. It was going to be a hard road to the Ministry for Phillip, but truthfully Tim felt that if any of his students could handle it, then it was the one that sat in front of him. And the more he thought on it, the more it made sense. It wasn't hard to picture Phillip in the Department of Mysteries, he more than had the personality for it.

When he got confirmation that Phillip was on board, Tim immediately went over to his desk, pulling out three pieces of parchment. He wrote on them with haste as a question met his ears. Barely looking up from the parchment, he said "It couldn't hurt to have other NEWTs. From a purely professor to student level, I encourage you to get as many as you can. But from a real world and practical level, the Department of Mysteries isn't going to give a damn if you can transfigure a water goblet into a rat or list the dates of all of the werewolf councils."

Tim eventually finished writing on the papers, putting one in an envelope. He walked back over to the table where Phillip sat and laid all three out, similar to the pamphlets. Tim pointed to the one on the left, the envelope. "I've got an old friend that I grew up with who works in the recruitment office for the Ministry. With your permission, I'd like to send along some of your work from this class and have her pass them along to the Department of Mysteries supervisor. At the very least, your name will be familiar to them. At the most, we may be able to get you a preliminary interview over the holidays...not for a job, but just to get them to meet you and show them how interested you are."

Tim pointed to the one in the middle. "This is schedule of sorts. I'd like to follow it as closely as you can. I've taken the liberty of naming all of the relevant chapters the regular textbooks as well as the specific things that you'll need to be able to do in your sleep." The list included such things as prediction, curse composition, name coding, personality number charts, ancestral tracing charts, and other complex topics. "We've not covered some of these in class, such as name personality number charts, and some we'll never cover in class, such as curse composition. However you have to know how to do them all, no questions asked. I'm not going to adhere you a schedule of meeting with me. If you want to learn these things with me in person then you can, but if you'd prefer to follow a book you can do that. Regardless of how you choose to learn it, you must practice the topic with me before you move onto the next one. I'll verify you understand it and you can move on."

The last slip of paper was a note. "This is a note that you can give the librarian to check out a book called Arithmetic Curse Conjuring and Reversal from the restricted section. It's not dangerous by any means but due to the sensitivity of the subject matter it's better suited being in a place where someone who doesn't know what they're doing can get their hands on it and fire off incantations they don't know the meaning of."

Tim picked the letter up and tucked into the breast pocket of his vest. "I know you don't want to hear this, but frankly I don't care. You need to hear it. I know that you're more than capable of achieving this goal. I see potential in you to do great things. But you must leave the laziness behind. This isn't really about a grade, this about your life beyond this castle. You can't afford to miss this opportunity. Once you'e gone from here, it's not a chance that you may be presented with again. I don't know why you want to work in the Department of Mysteries and I'm not going to ask...I figure if you wanted me to know you'd say so. But if you don't fine, it doesn't really change the course of action. But I need you to keep something in mind. I will walk the whole way to the finish line with you..." Tim flicked his wand and a NEWT information pamphlet flew from a shelf and landed on the desk "...but I can't cross it with you as much as I wish I could. Once you're testing, it's your head and your head alone."

Despite himself, Tim smiled a bit. "And that's more than some students could ever hope for."

When the professor answered his question about other NEWTs, the look of astonishment was shining obviously off of Phillip's typically grumpy features. He had expected an entirely different answer, but the truth behind the statement had him wondering if maybe there was more truth to what Professor Winchester had been saying all these years. It seemed wrong for a teacher to tell him plainly that some of the other NEWTs just wouldn't be all that useful after Hogwarts. Yes, everyone could agree that a Wizard should know how to use his wand. And there was the saying about history, those who didn't learn it were bound to repeat it. Phillip never felt like some of his subjects were as critical to passing a NEWT in. Some of them were general knowledge; he didn't need to be an expert at Herbology to know what moss not to eat. It wasn't like he spent much time outside anyway. Phillip nodded, clearly understanding, and still a little surprised that the professor had been so upfront about it.

Watching the other man from across the room, Phillip silently hoped he wasn't about to bring back another set of pamphlets for him to chose from. Honestly, he wanted to get to work, he was feeling incredibly motivated now, and he was ready to learn. Just as he could be lazy, Phillip was unbearably impatient. His leg bounced under the desk, his fingertips tapping against the surface with no certain rhythm until the professor returned. "Yeah," Phillip said before the professor was finished explaining what the letter was entirely about and what he hoped to gain from it. As soon as he'd mentioned a friend in the Ministry, the Ravenclaw boy had filled in the blanks and realized it was a good idea. He would hate to rub elbows, but he still felt like he'd do whatever it took to get the job he wanted. Phillip was against everything the institution and Ministry at large stood for, but nothing would get in his way. He was the sort of wizard that, once he got his teeth into something, he never gave up, never let go. It was another of those pesky Gryffindor traits that shone through every so often. If not for his undying love of knowledge, he might have been wearing a red and gold tie instead of his blue and bronze one. (If you could call the day-old crumpled knot of a tie hanging loosely around his neck "wearing" it).

Pulling the schedule toward him, Phillip scanned what had been written, nodding here and there as he mentally shuffled around the (lack of) social life and his other homework. He'd have to start performing at least adequately in his classes this year, some, like Alchemy, more than most, but he didn't feel pressured by the added workload. Phillip had slacked off just enough these last few years to come out with above-average scores and nothing to write home about. While he rarely turned in homework on time, he typically nailed exams, which balanced things out by the end of the year. Just because he hadn't been doing the classwork didn't mean Phillip had been sitting around doing nothing. Instead, the Ravenclaw had focussed his academic energy on his own pursuits. Studying the magic he wanted to learn, finding projects, and spells to try. In a way, he'd gotten a full education, just not the Ministry mandated one.

The almost-graduated teenager knew that approach wouldn't be enough anymore. He'd have to really do the work, but everything seemed more comfortable these days. Maybe it was because it was almost over, his seven grueling years at Hogwarts, but more likely it was because of Billie. Being with her made everything better, brighter, and more fun."I can do that," The system seemed doable, and he especially appreciated the freedom that Timothy was affording him. He had the choice of how to learn, and the professor would make sure he had done so before they moved on. While he hated to be restrained, especially in the pursuit of knowledge, this deal didn't feel like he was being told not to do something. It felt encouraging actually, and Phillip wasn't sure what to do with that sort of feeling. It certainly wasn't the feedback he had grown used to over the past years at Hogwarts.

Getting to the note that would allow him into the library's coveted restricted section, Phillip reached for it eagerly. Remembering that the left front pocket had a hole in the bottom stitching he had yet to be bothered to use a repairo charm on, he folded up the note and slid it into the left inside pocket.

What a strange feeling it was to have a little bit of hope about something. A tiny smidgen of optimism. Like a candle in the window, shining through the forest, beckoning him out of his doom and gloom. And almost as soon as he'd begun to let the feeling in, it was squashed again. There was a shift in the professor's tone, and as soon as Phillip picked up on it, he sat up defensively. His back straightened, the scowl returned to his face, and he narrowed his eyes on the other wizard in the room. "I know you don't want to hear this, but frankly, I don't care. You need to hear it." was not the sort of statement that could lead to anything good, Phillip had assumed. He felt like he was about to get reprimanded when he hadn't even done anything wrong yet. It made him feel betrayed, in a small way, since he had been so close to maybe one day letting himself trust this professor. Indeed, he was overreacting, but it didn't matter.

It was a lecture. Of course, it was. Phillip sucked in a breath, barely fighting back the roll of his eyes that always came over him when a professor took this tone. He'd heard it plenty of times. You have so much potential, you could be great, if only you would stop doing 'this' or 'that.' The Ravenclaw had heard it more times than he could count over the years. From quite a few different professors, but mostly from this one. It wasn't the first time they had had such a conversation, but it was the first time they hadn't started here. By the end of the sermon, Phillip's frown hadn't faded. The teenager had crossed his arms in front of his chest. He had listened, but his slow blinking made it evident that he wasn't taking the words as seriously as he had been when they were talking about NEWTs and the Department of Mysteries.

Leaning back in his seat, Phillip sighed loudly as the professor finished and then shrug his shoulders. "I get it?" He said, a bit more irritation present in his voice than before, "Why do you think I'm here?" For Phillip, this was a giant step. Coming to a professor willingly, and for help, it wasn't something he took lightly. It wasn't something he'd do with just any professor either. Even though he hadn't realized it, coming to Professor Winchester, was in a way, trusting him with something. Phillip had admitted weakness, that he could use some help in the coming year, and that was saying a lot. Because he was stubborn and entirely too proud (hello, Gryffindor), he was starting to feel like it was a mistake. Phillip should have known better, knowing that it would lead to this. He hadn't asked to be scolded or reminded of his shortcomings; he knew of those all too well. He asked for help.

"I can," he paused, shook his head, and sat forward to place his hands on the desk with a new seriousness, "I will, do this." And damn if he didn't mean it.