 prof. williams
Hogwarts was absolutely, positively unimpressive, but Jesús was strangely drawn to it. He still thought it was ridiculous that not only did they have to arrive in the most dramatic, embarrassing form of transportation, they also had to live in it for the duration of their stay there. Not that he was complaining too much (this was far, far, far more lavish than what he was used to,) but still, it was the principle of the matter!
He'd declined any and all invitations to "socialize" because had work to do. The patio seemed the least inhabited (a surprise, as he fully expected to see it full of the loudmouths of Ilvermorny,) so he headed there, with his bag. In it he had a journal (full of notes, plans, potential speeches, newspaper clippings, and the like,) some pens (because using quills just felt incredibly inauthentic and he refused to conform to the magical practices of the authoritative wizarding world,) a bottle of water, and some other things to keep him preoccupied for the day.
As he walked, he read from a paperback book (on historical protests and activism around the world,) and only looked up once he'd reached his destination. "Oh." His tone was less than polite, so he decided to fix it. "Professor Williams," he said, a smile forming on his lips, "didn't think you'd be out here." Better. See? Polite. He took a seat on one of the chairs, was mildly impressed by how comfortable it was, also thought about how he could possibly pilfer a few of these chairs to bring home, and glanced over at one of his major adversaries in school. "I trust you'll keep up your end of our truce?"
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