Familiar Faces and Changing Feelings [Carey]

Diagon Alley, no matter the time of year, always was busy.

Timothy wasn't particularly fond of such large hordes of people, but teaching at one of the most populated schools of magic in the country had evened out his previous nervousness for the most part. It was the time of year where Diagon Alley became more vital than ever. The opening of the semester was approaching quickly and the students were out in droves to get their supplies and prepare themselves for the year ahead. However it wasn't just students that took these bustling streets to make sure they were all equipped for the year ahead. Many professors visited these shops to purchase some extra supplies for their classroom for when student supply ran low. Timothy liked to have at least half a dozen spare copies of the textbook used for his class as well as quills, ink, and parchment. However, Timothy's trip to the shopping street wasn't entirely selfless. He was headed to pick up some books at Flourish and Blotts. He liked to have some bedside reading in his chambers before drifting to sleep at night. Or maybe to bring down to the classroom with him while the students were testing or something that didn't involve his teaching.

Timothy passed several students as he walked down the street. He nodded and smiled and even stopped to be introduced to some parents of some particularly eager students. Timothy was always a little nervous of meeting adults. Teens, his students, were fine as they were so unlikely to pose any sort of danger, but adults were fairly intimidating to Timothy. He had learned to be ever on his guard during the war, taught to be weary of what was behind every seemingly friendly smile. Of course Timothy knew he was in no danger. No one along this street was a threat. But the nervousness still rose in his stomach, it always subsided when he struck a pleasant conversation with these new people. And there were plenty of pleasant conversations to be had. Though times had been rough, there was an air of positivity that surrounded the approaching school year. Everyone felt that this was the year that Hogwarts would finally rebound of such dangerous occurrences. At least that was the hope.

Timothy walked through the door of the bookshop and nodded at a bookkeeper who was attempting to fill quickly emptying shelves. Timothy walked toward the back and down an aisle to start looking through the spines of the bound books, seeing what caught his interest. Timothy had always found solace in books. When he was brother died on the Quidditch field, he took to books. When he got lonely at school, he turned to books. When he had to kill the love of his life upon the discovery that the man was a Death Eater, betraying Timothy and his world...Timothy turned to books. He always did. And that didn't seem likely to change. Timothy was exceptionally happy as he browsed the shelves. But he was nervous about the approaching year. Though great measures had been taken to ensure the utmost safety, Timothy wasn't fully trusting of the Ministry's supposed dedication to keeping Hogwarts safe. So in the back of his mind, as he prepared for class, he also prepared for some new obstacle to throw itself up.

Carey's mother, Ainslie Baisley yelled back at him to hurry. He had been dragging his feet all morning and now that they were in Diagon Alley, he was dragging his feet even more. He was hoping that she would lose him in the crowd, and he could just mope in a corner until he could go home or maybe she would believe that he was not feeling well, and she could send him home with the floo powder. But NO. She was sure he would feel better after he got his new school supplies. His mother claimed that all his friends would be happy to see him, and they were not at all angry that he lost a huge amount of house points. She tried to convince him, if he spent a day out of the house, he would feel better.

How many times would he have to tell her he did not want to go!

Frustrated Ainslie march back to her son and resorted to grabbing his sleeve (because he would not let her hold his hand) and then made her way through the throng while she pulled him in tow.  With his fleece carticagen’s hood over his face, it gave an appearance he was a young Dementor on a leash. Although he was likely getting more looks just for keeping his hood up during this late London summer day, the stubborn almost 14-year-old did not care, he preferred not to see anyone he knew.

In truth it was not just about the house points, or that he acted like a love sick full for Reena Reddington, or even that he had become such a mishap prone joke that it seemed even his Hufflepuff friends had been shunning him. No. The icing on the cake was that his spattergroits had flared up again. Plans to see the world cup canceled, quidditch school canceled, summer might as well been canceled too. Carey had been confined to the bed and cared for by his mother and sister instead of having a normal summer.

Over a month ago he would have done anything to get out of his bed, but even though his voice had mostly return and the scabs on his skin could be mistaken as acne marks, he wanted nothing to do with the outside wizarding world. He had seen the Daily Prophet article his mother was trying to hide. The one which another mother had written in expressing concerns regarding screening for spattergroits at Hogwarts. The anonymous woman practically named him in the article. NOW what little friends he did have will surely stay away from him, completely.

“WHY AM I EVEN HERE!?!?! Aghhh”

His mother simply stated that he was here to get his school supplies but her tone told Carey that she was at her wits end. So, he let her pull him into the book store without much more trouble. He kept his face down as he passed a few hogwarts classmates and their families leaving the store. There were too busy talking about where to go next (Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes or Acelyn's Ice Creamery) to notice him. His mother made her way to the book shelves and grabbed Standard book of spells grade three before pulling out his book list.  She spared a glance at her watch while she examined the list and announced if they did not hurry this up they were going to be late for dinner. She shoved the paper him his hand and told him, he will HAVE TO get the books list himself while she saw Madam Malkin about letting out his robes. She said she will be back in 30 or 45 mins and she expects that the books will be paid for and rapped, and him ready to go. She handed him a stack of gallons before briskly making her way out the door. The slightly stunned Carey’s watched his mother leave before returning his gaze back to the coins in his hand. He was conflicted and somewhat shocked that his doting mother was not going to do all his school shopping for him. Still he had not held so many Knuts before. Shurely if he got his books quickly he would be able to pick up something with the change.

Finally seeing a ray of light, he ducked under arms and bumped the slow-moving shop keeper stacking the shelves while snagging one of each book on his list. Within five minutes he had the Bookkeeper ring him up while he thought about what he wanted to do with the change. His normal choices would be Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes or Acelyn's Ice Creamery but his classmates had talked about going to the same two places. He decided that he will have a look to see what the bookstore had to offer. He grabbed a cheap edible bookmark that was near the counter, before making his way to the back of the store. While the front shelves displayed the Hogwarts students books, the back were displaying the less seasonal tomes. He made his way down one long row of novels.

When his throat was not working, all he could do was read or listen to the radio. He had gone through all his wizard adventure books that his mom bought for him while he was still being home schooled. He was mildly curious if there a sequel or new releases by the same author. Searching the rows by author he turned the corner and saw a familiar figure.

“Professor Winchester?” He said out of surprise more than anything else. He thought that the Professors all lived at Hogwarts and he saw them as a fixture in the castle, like the ghosts, house elves and furniture.  He was not expecting the Professors to be wondering around London visiting bookstores or buying ice-cream. “What are you doing here?"

Examining the Professor he was slightly shocked that his Arithmancy Professor would be holding a book that wasn't fully devoted to numbers. "No way. You read Mystery?" He pointed at the book in the Professor's hand.  Apparently the author had moved on years ago to produce a set of adult mystery novels.

Timothy traced his fingers along the spine of the books, carefully reading each to see what jumped out at him. Timothy was fond of fiction. He had been since he was little. While he did enjoy history and biographies and his numbers, it was always nice to settle back and read something light and fun. Though it might have seemed like an odd time, Timothy really took to fiction while the dome was up. In his days, he fought off the vile creatures that snuck their way inside. In his nights, he nursed his wounds and read. He took solace in those books. He had become really enamored with mystery novels, especially a series of brilliant ones by a man named Whitaker.

Timothy was brought out of his thoughts by a familiar voice. He looked over and saw Carey Baisley, a student that he taught at school. Immediately, Timothy smiled brightly with that boyish smile. "Mr. Baisley! Yes it is me here in the flesh. I was let out of my shackles today to do some running around." Timothy laughed. "It seems that I picked quite the day to do it too. I've seen so many students out and about. I was certain there'd still be a few days before the rush, but it seems that everyone's getting ahead of the curve. Well...attempting to anyway." Timothy smiled with Carey asked him why he was there.

"Well, for the same reasons you are I'd say. Every year I like to come and pick up about a dozen extra copies of my class textbook to use for students who may not be able to afford one for themselves, or if someone accidentally leaves their book in their common room, things like that. But I also like to come and get some books for myself. At night before bed or in my classroom between classes or when you all are working on work, I like to pop open a book to take a bit of a breather. I've always been quite the reader. My dear mum always picked me up some new ones every time she went out and she'd send them to me while at school. I've just never broken the addiction. I suppose it's not a bad addiction to have, though. In fact, it might be one of the best I can have. It's much healthier for me than my chocolate frog addiction." Timothy laughed.

"Oh yea, I love mystery! It's one of my favorite genres without a doubt. There's something about finding clues and trying to race against the author to crack the case. My older brother Sam read a lot of these kind of books books. After he passed away, I took to these a lot because of how much he loved them. My younger brother Bennet and I made a sort of game out of reading them. We'd both get a copy and start reading at the same time then meet in our room at night and go over the clues we collected to see who could figure it all first. Whoever guessed it had to spend their allowance on lots of sweets for the other. Needless to say, Bennet got a lot of sweets. This particular author is fantastic. He always surprises me. I've never been able to guess the ending, but I always try."

Timothy realized how much he'd been rambling and stopped himself. But he took notice of some marks on Carey's face. Timothy knew right away where they'd come from. It was then that Timothy also noticed weariness in Carey's eyes. Timothy moved a bit closer and lowered his voice a bit. "My goodness. I can't imagine the summer you must have had. How are you feeling? Are you alright?" Timothy also remembered an article concerning a parent's fight to screen for Carey's illness. A bit of fire bubbled in Timothy's stomach. Anger. Timothy remembered being angry when he read the article and angry now that it was coming back to him. The mother had been so shamelessly ignorant and didn't stop to think about how it would affect the people that actually did suffer from the illness. It was horrible.

Timothy put his hand on Carey's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Carey. I well and truly am."

Carey nodded with his professor’s explanation. He guessed it makes sense. He thought the school would have magicked into existence everything that the professors need, but now he guessed that was a little silly. It made sense that they would have to go to stores and buy things like normal people too.

Carey laughed when he talked about a chocolate frog addiction. He studied his friendly professor. He couldn’t imagine Professor Winchester trying to catch a chocolate frog with a stack of boxes and cards next to him.  Without the context of the classroom, his professor seemed to appear younger, so much more normal and non-intimidating.  Well, he was always the corky Professor that tried to make arithmancy fun by using things you carried about in your calculations or working with candy, but now he was almost relatable and likeable. As if he was a friendly older classmate rather than a professor.

Carey took a few steps closer and grabbed an extra book off the shelves.  He cracked it open when he heard his professor casually say that his brother died. It was a common theme with student’s life stories of Hogwarts. Most had a sibling or parents that died in at least one of the wars or the dome. Carey was about to ask which even killed him, but his professor kept talking long enough for Carey to think better of it. He reexamined the back cover of the book.

“I know, I like these books too, but I have not gotten this series. You mean, you and your brother did it like a competition, like to see who can put the puzzle together first? I have not tied that. Wow, now that sounds fun. Maybe I can buy to sets and give one to a friend….” Carey thought before he remembered that he was not sure if anyone wanted to be his friend after his mess-ups last year. His face fell, but he tried to hide it by studying his book.

His Professor stopped talking and took a step in closer. At first Carey thought it was to whisper something like a clue, who the killer would be or something secret about the author. The student noticed his professor was studding him. Because the Gryffindor had completely forgot about the scabs on his face, it took a few moments to realize what Winchester was talking about. “Summer? Oh. OH. I um… “ Carey embarrassed, lowed his eyes and practically barred his face in the book he was holding. “Yeah, I am fine. I mean, I am now. It just takes a bit to heal. My Mom said it no one would notice it. Merlin’s blood beard, at least that's what she said.”

He couldn't believe he believed her. She said that it looked like pimples and almost every wizard his age had to get a few every now and then. Yet his Professor could completely tell right off. He did not know how much his face would heal in the next few weeks, but he was now wondering if he could miss school. He felt like throwing something and storming out. He turned towards the end of the aisle and took a few steps in that direction before he noticed another class mate walking by with a stack of school books in their hand. Fug. Where am I going to go? The bloody streets were teaming with his classmates, and he would likely run into more of them if he looked for his mother then if he stayed here.

His Professor’s apologies triggered the latch on his gated emotions. “I hate her.” Frustrated, he through the book in his hand down and fell back against the shelf. He let himself slowly side to the floor pulling his hood over his head. “I did not want to come here today, but my mom made me.” He tried to explain, while trying to hide a sniffle as he used his sleeve to wipe his nose.

Timothy smiled at Carey's amusement at the game Timothy would play with his brother. "Oh yeah it was loads of fun. We used to get really into it. We'd meet up in the kitchen after Mum and Dad had turned in and we'd open the book on the table and take out little note pads to write the clues down on. We'd go back and forth exchanging little details but would stop without giving too much away. Then we'd scurry off to our rooms and do some more reading. Ben always beat me. I to this day think he cheated on a few but I'm never going to be able to prove it. He's eighteen now and he'll still never admit to it. He fancies himself a real detective. But I can't judge to much because I thought I was to."

Timothy instantly regretted mentioning the scabs on Carey's face. Though his heart was always in the right place, sometimes Timothy spoke before he should. It was one of those things about himself that Timothy hated. Sam used to tell Timothy before he passed that he needed to consider surroundings a bit more and he was right. But Timothy still seemed to say the wrong things at the wrong times on occasion. Though he didn't know the full extent of Carey's history, Timothy was aware that Carey's previous year had been rough for him. Timothy felt so much sympathy for the young man.

Timothy took a step back as the book in Cary's hand went flying toward the shelf. He watched as Carey made a start to leave but stopped upon seeing a fellow student. Seemingly pinned in, Carey slid down the shelf to sit on the floor. Timothy's heart broke for the young man. Timothy put his book back on the shelf and took a seat next to Carey. He didn't speak for a little while. He just sat with Carey there on the floor. He wanted to indicate to Carey that he wasn't going anywhere, but he was also carefully considering his words. When he heard a sniffle from the Gryffindor, Timothy found his words.

"You know, in my second year I got myself into a fair bit of trouble. You see, there was this special event that was being held for the sixth and seventh years out on the lake. It was a little celebration, of what I don't think I was ever really sure. All I knew is that it was going to be one of the coolest, wildest parties ever. And I just couldn't stand the thought of missing it. Not one bit. I tried to convince my professors to let me go but they stood firm that it was for sixth and seventh years. But I didn't want to no for an answer. So the night of the party, I told my head boy that I was going to turn in early, that I wasn't feeling well. I bounded up to my dormitory, got in my school trunk and took a bunch of books and sweaters out. I piled them under the covers and blew the lamps out. I waited for a bit then slipped out of the room and used some of the less trafficked staircases to slip out of the castle. I stayed mostly in the dark until I got the bank of the lake. They had this dock that extended out to where they were hosting the party and I inched my way down it. I slipped in under cover. I'd never really talked with any of the upperclassmen so no one really turned their head at me."

Timothy giggled to himself a bit. "But I'd neglected to realize that there were professors chaperoning. My History of Magic professor caught me, grabbed me by the robes, marched me through the party for everyone to see and then took me back to the castle where he laid into me with these stinging words of judgement. I guess I looked amused because it just got him angrier. In the end, I got three weeks detention and house points deducted, not to mention throwing a wrench right into the party goers fun. Needless to say I was none too popular amongst a great many people in the school. But I was reminded by Sam that I was young. I was young and I made a mistake. It's just something teenagers do. They make bad decisions. But that doesn't make them bad. It just makes them...well it makes them normal."

Timothy stopped for a moment, really carefully considering his words when it comes to Carey's feelings on his appearance due to his illness. "Another thing that teenagers are prone to is being quite nasty to one another sometimes. And sometimes they don't ever grow out of it. No...sometimes they grow older with their immaturities and take to bitching in the Daily Prophet about things that they don't really understand." Timothy turned to make eye contact with Carey. "But the opinions of those people aren't the representation of everyone's opinions. It's just that stupid ones tend to speak the loudest." Timothy smiled a bit. "Well, I've said what's on my mind...how's about you say what's on yours?" Timothy remembered his surroundings; the busy bookstore. "But maybe somewhere not so congested. What do you say we go down the road a bit to the tea shop? I need to pick up some tea for the Ravenclaw common room and it's hardly ever busy. I passed it on my way in and it was practically lifeless."

Carey kept his head down, as his professor calmly took a seat on the floor next to him. He was rather embarrassed with his emotional outburst and did not want to see his Arithmancy Professor's face nor reaction. Deep down he knew he should have behaved differently, it was just all the bottled-up emotions from everything that went wrong at the end of term along with missing so much of what he was looking forward to this summer. He just hated everything right now, including his mum, the idiots that were supposed to be his friends and his own bloody stupid face.

The minutes ticked by, with the only noise coming from the front of the store, which mainly consisted of parents commenting on the price of books and students begging to go get a treat after they are done shopping.  Their mundane chatter filled his thoughts as he slowly forgot about just why him and his professor were both sitting on the floor leaning on a bookcase. The Professor suddenly started talking as if it was a continuation of a discussion there were having a moment before. Carey was relieved it was not about being sick or having scars, instead it seemed to be about sneaking out, losing house points and getting in trouble. Things that Carey could relate to. In second year, he had sneaked out a few times and stayed out well past curfew, but he had not got caught. Although he had lost a bunch of house points, quite unfairly… he had also felt the embarrassment and the dis-association from his peers.  So, it was no surprise that Carey was wrapped up in the Professor's story. The almost fourteen-year-old tried to imagine what this adult wizard might have looked like when he was Carey’s age.  He exclaimed with "Agh" while making a disgusting face as Winchester described how the chaperon paraded him through the party and then punished him and others in the process.

“Normal?" he repeated trying to understand why his professor was using that word. What was normal about accidentally eating a plant in herbology class? To screw up so badly in flying class that you become a joke? To be known as the kid that will get lost in the forbid forest and then do just that? To get caught stealing in potions class and having a stupid love potion cost him a ridiculous amount of house points?  "It … It is just that I feel like I am the only one screwing up. Everyone last year knows it and now with my…”

He could not say it and just gesture to his face. He should be able to talk about being sick, because it was not the first time he had it. It was just he was hoping to hide it from people at school, but now it was going to be nearly impossible. It was frustrating, and he wished things were different and he was someone else.

His Professor started to talk about how teenagers could be nasty sometimes and how they don't grow out of it. Then he brought up the Daily Prophet. Carey looked directly into Winchester's dark brown eyes, while his own eyes grew wide with surprise, even though he shouldn't be. He had seen the article and was sure that everyone in school will figure out it was him and now he knew they did. Even his lame book wormy Arithmancy Professor figured it out. Maybe the school will send him a letter to inform him that he was not allowed to attend this semester. It was possible. Carey imagined getting that letter ... and to his surprise he was not happy about that scenario either.

His Professor was smiling and going on about everyone's opinion and something about the notion that stupid people tend to be loud, before inviting Carey to say what was on his mind. Carey raised an eyebrow slightly confused. He did understand the question, but he was not sure what he wanted to say. Carey had the vague feeling that he normally got when there was a surprise test in class. Well, being dumbfounded at least means he is not loud, which proved he was not one of the stupid people... right?

Okay, he was slightly aware that was a completely oxymoronic thought.

Carey chuckled to himself and nodded his agreement with the notion of getting out of here. "Tea?" What is up with old people and tea. "Ar-right sure." He replied as he realized it was only a matter of time that one of his classmates would see him, all snot nosed on the book room floor sitting next to his Professor. Which was possibly more embarrassing then his face.  Besides no one would he know would be at the tea shop.  Carey pushed himself off the bookcase and awkwardly stood up. He picked up the book he had thrown, noticing some of the pages were slightly bent. "I'll get this and leave a message for my Mum up front. See you there."

He pulled his hood up, checked his change in his pocket and made his way to the front trying to put some distance between him and the professor. He was lucky enough to find the line practically clear. He grabbed his rapped school books and handed over the mystery book to be ringed up. The store owner raised an eyebrow over the book's condition. Carey was worried that he might not sell him it as if he would likely to continue to abuse it or something.

"Yeah it dropped..." Carey tried to explain. Luckily, after a moment of hesitation the owner took the change and handed back the book. He did not really want to be seen following his professor around like some Prefect puppy, so he decided to make his way to the tea shop. Just before he door closed behind him, he tucked his head back in and said "Oh, let my Mu... I mean if Ainslie Baisley is looking for her son, tell her I'll be at the Tea shop."

The shop owner grunted unhappily, but Carey took it as an affirmative. Carey spared his professor a nod, before slipping out the door. Adjusting his hood lower on his face he took off in a run, he dropped his new book onto the cobblestone street before he finally slowed. The young boy had a verged idea where the tea shop was located, but had to backtrack to find it. Winchester was right. It was quite dead, only occupied by grumpy looking elderly wizards who seemed to be seeking refuge from the Hogwarts induced hassle and bustle they were not expecting on today's street. 

Carey found a seat that faced away from the window tucked in the corner. He pulled out his mystery book and cracked it open to the first page... What am I thinking having tea with my Professor? How uncool could you be? But this is what he wanted: A quiet place to hide until his mother finished the shopping. He checked his watch... he guessed he would have to be here for only an additional 20 mins or so... before his Mum would likely show up and this day could end. Just as the clerk was heading over to take his order or kick him out Winchester entered the teashop’s door.

Timothy had never been in Carey's shoes, but he imagined that the feeling of being noticed by everyone would be similar to the feeling he had after his brother died. The feeling of being watched, of knowing everyone has knowledge of something having happened to you. It was a suffocating feeling, really. It felt that no matter what was done, everyone seemed to look at you the exact same way. Timothy was a bit older than Carey when Sam died but he was still young and incredibly aware of his own surroundings. Or rather who surrounded him. Timothy had never really been shy and he knew Carey hadn't really been too much either. But Timothy became shy after his trauma and Carey likely did after his. Though their situations were not entirely similar, Timothy felt for the boy. And he wanted to do what he could to help.

Timothy bopped and weaved between the bustling patrons of the alley. Some students saw him and rushed to avoid him, others stopped to nod in his way. Some parents who knew nothing of who he was or what he did bumped into him, one even knocking Timothy's books down to the cobblestone. It flustered him, yes. But it wasn't the most pressing thing on his mind. Timothy walked into the tea shop and took notice of Carey sitting on one of the benches in the corner. It was out of the way, not incredibly visible. Timothy assumed that was exactly why Carey had chosen it. Timothy walked to the counter and asked to have his previously placed order prepared. Timothy decided to order two cups of fresh brewed green tea with a tinge of peppermint. The clerk handed him the two cups and Timothy walked over and sat next to Carey.

Timothy extended one of the cups in Carey's direction. "Tea has incredible relaxing properties. In fact, it eases the mind so much that ancient Arthimists used to swear by drinking a cup during the studies. One particular Artithmist, Donahue, credited this exact combination, green tea and peppermint, with inciting his breakout theory. I personally don't know the validity of that sentiment, but it's a nice thought to keep in the back of your mind." Timothy smiled at Carey.

"Now, I know that I'm not the coolest person in the world to be hanging out with. Judging by some of the chatter I pick up on around the castle, I've come to realize I'm rather lame. Beige. Boring. Plain. Unremarkable." Timothy sipped his tea. "But I do greatly appreciate you coming. Now, I do believe that we were in the midst of quite an important conversation. Open your mind, Mr. Baisley. Open your heart as well. Let those thoughts spill out. I'm...well almost quite literally the only one here."

The Carey watched Winchester enter and head straight for the clerk who returned to the counter with a beaming smile on his face.  It was obvious to Carey that his professor must frequent the establishment or be a good customer. After a quick exchange, he professor turned and approached Carey with cups of tea, but no biscuits. Bummer.

Carey took the cup but forgot about his need for an added treat when the Professor explain about the tea concoction.  At first the third year thought the professor was alluding that the tea had magical properties like a potion or something. “Really?” Carey asked as his mind spun thinking that maybe this was what he was missing all along. He rashionalied that he was bound to get an obscene about of OWLs if he could drink this constantly. Or maybe he could still drink pumpkin juice most of the time if he switched to his tea right before tests! Carey took an eager sip hoping to be able to feel the results immediately. … Yes, he could feel a little bit of something, and it wasn’t half bad tasting too. Although he would have preferred it with sugar, the green tea was not as bitter as the black tea his mother usefully serves and the hint of mint made his taste buds think of deserts.He could not tell everyone else or everyone grades would rase or the school would ban it. It will be his secret weapon. Maybe they will make him a Prefect and Head boy after all! Just then the Professors last statement popped the new hopes of Carey. “You don’t think….so ? Oh.” He examined his cup slightly disappointed.

“Not cool? Well, at least you’re not old or like that Professor Walker he was completely nuts.” Carey said going off on a tangent. “Really I can’t believe that they let him in as a sub. My sister said he was not half bad. She had him for Flying practice ages ago, but I really think some wizards go mental as they get older.”

Carey stopped long enough to hear the rest of the His professors request. “Our important conversation?” Carey repeated confused. Weren’t they talking about books? He is asking me to open my mind and my heart to spill what out? The issues of my face?!?! What is he crazy? What did he expect me to do start sobbing into my tea cup?  Carey put his halfway drank tea cup down. He now wished he sat closer to the window. Maybe he could have flagged his mum down or he could have pretended to see here an excused himself. “Look Professor Winchester , I appreciate  the cup of tea and stuff,  but I um.. I mean. I don’t have anything to spill at all. Obviously, nothing you couldn’t already tell by looking at my face. I was really hoping that no one would notice. After last semester the last thing I want is to give them more to talk about. They already all think I am an idiot.”

He crossed his arms and looked across the room at an empty booth and the wood paneling. He just did not want to look his teacher in the eye at the moment. His lightly marked face creased with a frown at he tried to control his emotions. “I just hate it. Last year sucked… and this year will be worse because they will all think I am contagious or something.” He turned to his Professor trying to judge if his professor thought if he was contagious too. It did not seem so. If he did, he wouldn’t invited me to drink this want-to-be super arithmancy tea … yet to emphasize the point he added. “Which I am not. At least not anymore. I have my voice back and everything.”

Timothy chuckled a bit in his own head at Carey's excitement about the tea. Truthfully, he'd never really done much research on the concoction. For all he knew, it could indeed have magical properties. "It's possible that those old Arithmists were on to something. I keep the green tea and peppermint in my office so when school starts back, we can give it a shot with a quiz. Who knows, we could be surprised. We could prove an ancient magical theory. Now that would be quite an interesting thing to put on a job application wouldn't it?" Timothy smiled.

Timothy was amused with the mention of Professor Walker. That was quite an interesting subject. Of course Timothy had heard much about his substituting. To say the least, the opinions were rather mixed. "Professor Walker is...an interesting man. I've not had extended interactions with him, but in the few that I have, I've been clued into his eccentricities. Quidditch-". Timothy paused. Quidditch. The sport that killed his brother Sam at the age of 18. The sport Timothy loathed with his very existence. The one thing that would send Timothy's anger and sadness spill out. The word he hardly ever liked to speak. "Well...it runs his life. It runs his as it ruined part of mine. Often times when someone is hyper focused on one thing, they tend to struggle in adapting to other things. Of course, it could come down to the war as well. Many adults that you come across in Hogwarts were altered by it. I was in a great many ways. There are things about the war that stick with me to this very day. One could argue it birthed my own eccentricities."

Timothy listened closely as Carey spoke about his hatred and loathing for his current situation. Timothy had a feeling that something like his illness or his previous year was taking particular jabs at his confidence and overall happiness. It was understandable. The other students likely weren't kind to Carey and they may not be this year. That combined with his illness would certainly make facing a new year not such an appealing idea. Timothy knew Carey was likely to take his class this year. He wondered if he could, or even if she should, keep his eye on Carey as well as the people around him. After all, part of his job was to ensure the happiness and the safety of his students.

"Well, to not have anything to spill, that certainly was a load of thought." Timothy noticed Carey was making a point to not look at him. "The illness won't stay noticeable. As a matter of fact, the evidence of it seems to be fading. In all honesty, I noticed only because of my grandfather. He worked at St. Mungo's so I used to search through his old books about all kinds of different illnesses and their treatments. To an untrained eye, it would appear as nothing more than cuts or scrapes or acne. And if you had your case over the summer, signs point to it entering the phase where it would be subsiding. I'd wager that by the end of this month, you'll be back to normal. But even if you're not, I wouldn't worry about how others may feel about it."

Timothy listened as Carey continued. "Last year sucked for many students. I know about what happened with you of course, and truth be told, to me the punishment was a bit excessive. I'm not usually one to question my fellow professors, but there are some of them that seem to take pleasure in handing out punishments. I don't understand the sentiment to it. I hate it. It's easily the worst part of my job." Timothy leaned forward. "In any case, I think you're making the situation out to be a bit worse than it is. Certainly there will be some students that will remember what happened. But it's not the most pressing thing on many minds. No, most everyone's attention is turned to the school itself. Whether or not it's safe, whether or not this year is going to be a safe one."

Timothy sipped his tea. "It becomes incredibly easy to dwell on one's past mistakes. But the point is that they were just that...mistakes. Mistakes are made by everyone. Mistakes happen every day. I make mistakes. Professor McGonagall makes mistakes. The minister makes mistakes. It's a part of life. You're young. Youth is fueled by mistakes. It's how we grow and how we learn and how we advance. You've learned from your mistake haven't you?" Timothy hoped his words were resonating. "If anyone makes any attempt to tease you or incite any sort of embarrassment from you, then you let me know. McGonagall has made it clear that we need to keep the students that enjoy fun at the expense of others in check. And I couldn't agree more. There's a problem with bullies around the castle. And it must stop. We don't have the time to be dealing with it. And neither do you, Carey."

Timothy thought for a moment. "You're far too intelligent to be letting yourself feel so defeated. You can't dwell on what happened last year. I know that it's easy to slip into the funk of feeling as if you've screwed up to the point of not being able to recover. But you haven't. This is a new year with new opportunities. You're getting older now and soon your world is going to expand and your chances to seize greatness and follow your dreams are growing by the day. You can't let life pass you by because you've buried yourself under the weight of something that doesn't and won't define you."

Carey glanced sideways at his Professor, when he made the case that the marks on his face would be mostly gone and likely unnoticeable by the time school starts. It was what the healers and his family had said but he still felt like it was taking forever and could not see how it was not going to be obvious to others. Carey gave a frustrated sigh when his professor estimated Carey would be “back to normal” by the end of the month… but deep down he really hoped so. Everything just took so long. His mother making him go with her while she shopped had frustrated him. He was really worried it would just make other students notice more.

When Winchester change the subject, and covertly alluded to criticism over Walkers’ reactions, Carey piped up. He turned to his teacher and quickly forgot about his own troubles. “Way excessive. Like 500 points to Excessive!” Carey agreed. 

“A bit worse? Have you ever lost that many points… at one time? It cost us the house Cup.” Carey started to argue, before remembering this guy was Ravenclaws head of house and so was on a different team. Winchester wouldn’t have mind Gryffindor losing that many points. “I know Ravenclaws tend to get points in classes all the time… with them always knowing right answers and stuff. But Gryffindors have to really work hard for every point we get.”

Carey at first was frustrated as his professor talked about him overreacting. I am not OVERREACTING. Stupid adults don’t understand.  They forget how things were like in school.  Carey mouth was opening to voice these opinions, but before his internal rant could be vocalized it was suddenly halted. He tried to make sense of what the Professor was referring to. “The School itself? If it’s safe? Oh. You mean the Dome.” An uncontrollable shiver ran up Carey’s spine. He was only a first year and in denial the whole time, but it had made a lasting impact. “Well. Yeah. I guess. But that is not going to happen again… people don’t think it will."

He became quiet again as the subject changed. This is becoming more of a lecture. he thought. He would have hated it, if he did not find it suddenly amusing.  “Professor McGonagall? Does she really make mistakes?” Carey broke out in a huge laugh. He straightened his back and did is best McGonagall imitation “I seriously hope not,” while adjusting fictional glasses and looking down his nose. After laughing again he was willing to hear the rest of the argument.

“Okay. Okay… yes. Everyone makes mistakes speech. I get it.” Carey said as he gave a dismissive wave and smiled. Although his mother and father had given him this speech before, coming from a professor did mean something more, although Carey was not going to admit that.

The next part silence the jokester in him. The words were just too powerful and overflowing with heart filled true belief that it made Carey feel uncomfortable. Carey eyes looked down in to his cup as he took in the words he would never imagine being uttered by his Arithmancy Professor. It awakened the lion in him. The one that loved to be at the center of attention, the one that wanted to seize greatness, the one that dreamed big. To be head boy, an Auror, maybe Minister of Magic.  Maybe he had been licking his wounds to long. If he stayed this way, what would he become? Some want-to-be who was all bitter and sad.

Carey finishing his cold tea gave a short nod after a long silence. It was normal for family members to give him a pep talk but the Professors at Hogwarts normally called him into the office to lecture or discipline him not to say that he was intelligent and make him imagine becoming something great. Winchester seemed weirdly different than them and a lot cooler then he appeared. Carey just did not know what to say... He looked at his Professor and tried to say something nice... but all that came out was, “Ravenclaws are really fortunate to have you as their Head of House.”  Carey said almost longingly. He was unsure if Gryffindors would get a new head of house this year, but he hoped that his new Head of House would be like Winchester.

Carey desperately wanted to change the subject before he did something totally uncool like balling or even worse give his professor a hug or something… Looking down at the table he noticed his slightly beat up book and held his copy up. “Oh, which mystery novel did you pick up? I was going to read this one. I really liked what you described that you and your brother did. Both read it at the same time and tried to guess the ending, right? I think it would be kind of brilliant. Can you show me how you two did it so I can do it too? If we had the same book ... maybe we can try it. Or I might be able to find another friend that would be willing. Someone like Jari Trickett might do it with me. Although he would more likely want to read the book, if it was a mystery novel about aliens.”

Timothy laughed with amusement at Carey's impersonation of McGonagall. Though Timothy loved the headmistress with all his heart (after all, she gave him the job he so loves), he knew the impersonation was spot on. "Oh I'd wager that she'd never well and truly admit it. The only person that could ever get her to shake even a little bit was Dumbledore. The old man knew just the right things to say at just the right time to take her by surprise. And indeed, she makes mistakes. She's just a lot more practiced in the art and they all come off as intentional."

After Timothy's speech, he knew that his words were heard loud and clear. Many took Timothy only at face value. An Arithmandy professor. A number cruncher. No one too noteworthy. But when one took the time to discover who the man truly was, they uncovered his unshakeable passion, his belief in always seeing good in the worst of situations. They'd see a man who, unlike his numbers, was imperfect. Someone who'd walked through hell and came out changed, yet somehow still the same as he'd always been. He'd overcome his darkness, overcome to moments where fate seemed to grab him by the neck and force the air from his lungs. He'd prevailed. And that's what he wanted for Carey.

Timothy was particularly gifted in recognizing a person's strength, and Carey had many. He was incredibly intelligent, refreshingly in tune with his own emotions, and well aware of the world around him. He wasn't a teenager in the traditional sense. He was a young man who had a bright future. But Timothy knew that if this young man didn't escape from the shadow he lived under, then those gifts could go unused, the potential could go unrealized. More than anything else, Timothy's job as a professor was to unlock his student's natural gifts. And he was determined to make sure that Carey's gifts never went unused.

He smiled at Carey's compliment. "I appreciate that. I truly do. Remember that though I'm the Ravenclaw Head of House, that doesn't mean I'm not accessible to students of other houses. My door is always open to anyone who should need it. Though I do have some bad luck when it comes to Slythrins. Do I believe that they're born evil and are destined to cause havoc and chaos? No. Have I ever found slugs in my tea in a room full of Slythrins? Yes, yes I have." Timothy laughed.

Carey's subject change was noticeable, but it was welcomed. Timothy was one who tended to ramble, it was just in his nature. He was glad to be cut off. After all, the words he'd said already had found their mark. Returning to the subject of books got Timothy's youthful energy kicked back into action. "I'm not quite sure what this one is just yet. It's something to do with a writer who stumbles upon a murder scene while out researching for a book and she has weeks to catch the killer before she becomes the next victim. That's what the description on the first page says anyway. It's quite a thick book, and that means it's much more fun. Lots of things to uncover."

Carey's question about how his game with Bennett was played once more sent his nostalgia soaring. "Oh yes, yes it's quite simple really. So, both of us would decide on a time every night to start reading. We'd both read the same chapter, and as we read, we'd take little detective notes on some spare parchment. Once we'd both read the chapter, we'd meet at what we called our 'hideaway'. It was a little alcove area in the shed in our backyard. We'd meet and we'd talk a bit about the plot developments, about the characters. We'd go over our notes together and see what we picked up on. But we'd never share theories. We would only share observations. As we got deeper into the book, we'd start to develop our theories about what was the outcome. I kept mine in a little leather ledger and Bennett kept his in a diary he used to put in the bottom of his closet. Once we got right to the point where the mystery was about to be solved, we'd stop, collect our theories, and head to our hideaways. We'd trade theories and read each other's theories carefully to make sure no cheating was involved. Then one of us would read the rest of the book out loud while the other followed along and whoever solved the mystery correctly was owed a bag of sweets by the loser."

It was such a brilliant time to do this when he was young. It had been a while since he'd done it. Bennett still loved the books but he had grown out of his love for the game. Timothy had longed to play again, and it seems he found a kindred spirit in Carey. "You know, I've been looking to get back into the game. I'd like to see if my skills have been lost or grown with my age. I saw at least three more copies of this book on the shelf. I wouldn't mind getting another I'd like to face off with you so to speak. It'd be a fun. If you'd like, we could make it a weekend activity. I'm hardly ever busy on the weekends during the school year. And it'd be a great battle of minds. Blue vs. Red. The lion vs. the raven. Just as it should be." Timothy extended his hand out to shake Carey's should he agree. "What do you say, detective?"

Carey's heart fell when he heard his professor recount the story of the book, because he believed for a second that his professor must have had read the book already. His disappointment dissipated after he announced he got all of that off the first page. Carey picked up the book.

 “You got all that from the first page?” he said surprised while reexamining his book. Carey normally reads books because the title or front picture looks cool, and often skipped the description and the authors information so he could quickly jump to the first chapter and dive into the story. He guessed if he wanted to win at the game, he would have to be more comprehensive with his book reading. Carey listened and try to take mental notes of the game mechanics: Each read the same chapter per day, write notes in a notebook, keeping one’s theory to yourself and meet regularly until mystery was going to be solved. Then share theory’s with each other and read the end of the book together, and see who guessed it right. It was simple but …

“I guess it would be easy to cheat, but I can see how it would lose its fun quickly.” Carey said as his mind trying to analysed the game mechanics, so he could find the flaws and how might one who tried to cheat the system would be able to be caught. It was not that he was planning to cheat more that he wanted to understand it more completely.  “I guess if someone was too correct at their guessing, it would be obvious they were cheating. Also I could see how their notebook would not likely show how the clues lead up to their conclusion.”

“OH Yes! I am in! RED vrs BLUE you are on!” Carey stood up and pounded the table with his enthusiasm, rattling his tea cup. He took his professor's hand and shook it a little too vigorously. Although he had earned a dirty look from the tea clerk, Carey failed to notice the warning glace aninstead his attention was drawn to a familiar form appeared in the front door.

Leaning over so she could see his face, Carey waved and loudly stated, “Oy, Mum! Over here.” Ainslie Baisley face seemed to relax a little when she found her son tucked in the back corner of the Tea room. She adjusted her bag on her shoulder and made her way over. When her eyes met with Winchester she gave a friendly smiled although it was rimmed with a slight hint of concern.

“Mum, this is Professor Winchester. Ya know, my Arithmancy Professor. We um… met at the book shop and he invited me here to have some tea.” Carey tried to explain seeing the slight concern in her face and mistaken it that she might be mad at him for not staying at the book shop. Carey mother's face brightened with understanding… She turned and thanked Professor Winchester for his kindnesses to his son and made the excuse that Madam Malkin’s was swamped and it took longer than she expected to finish the alterations but announced that she was able to pick up some extras that Carey needed, including quills, ink and parchment roles. Carey jumped up and stuck his face eagerly into his mother's shopping bag.

“Any Notebooks? “ he asked thinking about the game he is planning to play with the Professor. But before his mother could answer he found a few simple coved thin books in the bag. “Nice! You got some.” He pulled one out and showed his professor "… see I am ready!”

Ainslie was a little unamused by her son's actions, but happy that her son’s sour mood had changed. She spared a  warm smile at the Professor before she gave a startled look and rechecked her watch. She announced they were late and told her son to grab his books and remind him to thank his Professor. While in the rush of gathering up his books he almost knocked over his empty tea cup, before he turned to his professor and said a quick, “Thanks for the tea… see you in school,” before running out the door.

His mother gave a little bit of a frustrated sigh before she thanked Professor Winchester more properly before following out her son.  Outside the glass Carey bounced on his toes waiting impatiently. Although his hood was up, he did not wear it quite as low and now resembled the thin teenager he was more than a juvenile dementor he did this morning. When his mother joined him, he gave a nod through the glass at his professor before being swallowed by the crowd as he paved the way back to the Leaky Cauldron with his mother in tow.

{exit}

Timothy was greatly amused by Carey's enthusiasm. The young man's demeanor changed entirely. Gone was that angered, nervous, self conscious boy that Timothy happened to run into at the bookstore. In a lot of ways, seeing Carey so interested in the game reminded Timothy of his younger brother Bennett. This game became so important to both Timothy and Bennett after their older brother Sam died. It brought them great comfort and Timothy was glad that it was bringing some comfort to Carey. Timothy laughed as Carey stood and pounded the table. Timothy followed suit. The tea shop clerk was none to amused but Timothy was a regular.

Timothy regained some composure when Carey's mother entered the store. Timothy shook her hand. "Ms. Baisley do forgive me for borrowing your son without asking first." Timothy knew that Carey wouldn't likely want the real reason for their visit be known to his mother so Timothy thought fast. "Carey here is going to assist me in Arithmancy class. He excelled so much last year that I'm enlisting him to help out with some of the newer kids. You've got a very gifted young man Ms. Baisley." Timothy tried to hide his amusement at Carey's discovery of the notebook. He had to keep that Professor Appearance in the presence of parents.

Timothy gathered his book and put his coat back on. He waved as Carey and his mother exited. He gave them a few moments to get going and Timothy walked to the clerk and handed her some money. "Thank you" he said with a smile.Timothy walked back to the bookshop to purchase an additional copy of the book he bought earlier. It was time to dust off his detective cap.

{exit}