Callum was as miffed as he could ever remember being. Another stupid detention given by a sad example of what a professor should be. This was Cal's opinion of the new divination teacher. His first impression of the guy was that he had more muscle than brains.. Which meant his brain wasn't as well formed and witty on the go.. Poor guy!


He made his way to where he'd been instructed to serve his time and grumbled with a heavy sigh as he spotted Fletcher in the corridor.. Callum couldn't help think how dumb the man looked standing there like a sentry on duty. The second year badger didn't say a word, not did he make any sort of gesture to greet the man as he walked on by.. He wasn't even going to act like he saw him at all. As far as Cal was concerned, there wasn't anything he wanted to say to the professor.


He was simply here to do his time and be done with it.. Done with Fletcher..

Derf was not impressed. An understatement, truly, but the sixth year was trying his best not to show it too much. I have already spoken with your head of house who is now equally aware of the way you conduct yourself in a leadership role. That had caused his blood to boil considerably and the Hufflepuff had once again found himself mentally spatting out the same choice words he had had for the professor in class at the piece of parchment upon reading. Still, he had pocketed it and worked things out with others to cover his patrol for the evening and arrived early - mostly out of badger spite, to be honest.

"Good evening, Professor Fletcher," he greeted abruptly as he arrived and came to a stop in front of the man.

His blue eyes followed Reese Callum when the younger Puff arrived....and his insides instantly knotted and how the second year was starting things off. Clearing his throat, he nodded his head pointedly toward the Divination professor while his eyes widened in a somewhat pleading manner to at least get the empty formality out of the way. Derf was not particularly a fan of the man either, but he could acknowledge that at the very least the man knew the subject he was teaching so there are a silver lining in an education to be had...and the way his younger housemate was going, well, he was going to rob himself of any sort of formal education.

Expulsion...stuck on your record, you know?

Well, at least one of them knew to play the part of a respectful student. Calvin inclined his head toward the for now former Hufflepuff Prefect. “Good evening, Mr. Ahsburry-Hawthorne. Diligent of you to be on time.” For his own good really but as he was here on time, there was no need to get into it.

The man raised a silent brow at the younger boy, waiting to see if he would amend his mistake, but alas he was going to continue down the same path he had been on. That was fine with him. Two could certainly play the ignoring game, but only one of them would be winning and quite frankly, it wouldn’t be Mr. Prichard.

He turned his gaze from him, for now willing to act as if he wasn’t there. Mr. Ashburry-Hawthorne.” He went on, nudging the door open for the boy. “After you.” He could enter the room and go one step closer to completing his detention.

Inside, he would find a large room filled with piles of clutter. Many things dumped together and obviously out of place. It was a room that looked in serious need of sorting out and tidying. An enormous job but then they—he, if Mr. Prichard kept this up—had the week to get it done.

The sixth year wanted to point out that despite whatever image this man had ingrained in his follically challenged head that he was in fact quite the punctual person - something mum and dad had instilled in him - and had never once arrived late to class during his entire Hogwarts career. There had been a few close calls at the buzzer but no, never late. So he simply nodded his head at those words with no reply otherwise.

Upon being ushered inside, Derf gave his younger housemate another pleading look. Again, not because of house points because he still fully felt that was perhaps THE most inefficient way to discipline the general Hogwarts population, but for the second year's own sake. Though he said nothing, conveying it all in a simple look as he followed the Divination professor and stepped inside the room when instructed to...

....and then his jaw dropped.

Not out of horror or agony, because it was obvious what he was about to be tasked with, but sheer WONDER. Where HAD all this stuff come from? Who had it belonged to? Was anything in here historical? How far BACK did some of these things go? Had anything in this room passed through the hands of any of Hogwarts greats? It all reminded him of the historical retelling of what had happened during Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy's final years with the Room of Requirement. How it had manifested itself into the Room of Hidden Things...so this was exciting. Who KNEW what he might find in here, you know?

On person's trash was another's treasure, yeah?

"....wow," he said under his breath, awestruck. Shaking his head a bit and ruffling his hair like an anxious crup for a moment, he turned his blue eyes up towards Professor Fletcher. Could he get started?

To be fair, Cal figured it best to keep his mouth shut.. Lest he open it and tell the man that called himself a professor just exactly what he thought of him and the magical medium in which he worked.. That would surely see him out of the school before had a chance to finish the insult!


He did, however grumble with a heavy sigh as he saw the room they were to be sorting out and tidying up.. ' He's GOT to be jokin'! ', he thought to himself as he saw the mountains of junk and trinkets.. This room had several extras of just about anything he could conjure up in his brain!


" This is ridiculous.. ".. Yup. Those were the words that had decided to be the first that seeped from betwixt the second year's lips.

' Crap!.. Gonna pay for that..', he thought after hearing his own voice betray him. Why did he not have a filter? Why did he always have to spoil the silence with the squeak that was his voice? Sorry, Derf… He really was trying to behave!

Had he the time and the patience, he may have turned and responded to the younger boy—or perhaps it was because of his patience that he didn’t. Either way, the man acted under the guise of having not heard his outburst at all. He could put enough together to tell the boy had gotten a look inside the room as the Prefect walked through. He now knew what was coming should he ever regain enough manners.

For now, the man moved inside the room and locked it behind him, leaving Reese on the outside and Derfael on the inside.

When Mr. Prichard was ready, he would knock and do what needed to be done. There was no sense getting himself worked up and bursting blood vessels when it was as simple as this. Calvin took just a pause to regain his patience before looking to Mr. Ashburry-Hawthorne.

“I don’t suppose I’ll have to explain what you’ll be doing for the rest of the week.” The fact he seemed more awed than dismayed gave the man mixed feelings but if it meant him actually working and none of that teenage angst then he would accept it.

“Before we begin, I’d like you to tell me in your own words why you think you have been given detention.” It was always good to get an understanding of exactly where their reasoning ability was at.

Derf was trying, struggling really, to focus and pay attention to the Divination professor....but it was HARD when there was SO much to take in and speculate about. And, in all honesty, the Hufflepuff had entirely forgotten that this was a detention in the moment. Especially with Reese Callum now on the other side of a locked door right now. "Reckon the only thing I need explained is how you would like for things to be organized and cataloged," he nodded, that twinkle of curiosity only growing in his bright blue eyes as it seemed like he was expected to just get right too it.

To start? He wanted to know what that stack of papers and old brown parchment wrapped documents was all about.

Only Professor Fletcher had something else in mind, which brought the truth that this was a detention back crashing down upon the sixth year's head. "Oh...um..." he began, ruffling his hair a bit as he attempted to pull his thoughts away from the task to be done to the man's question. "....my un-observance and assumptions, professor," he stated after a moment of thought, his eyes shifting from the stacks of paper and piles of dusty furniture and other artifacts to the Divination professor. "Which I reckon are two of the more dangerous things you can do at Hogwarts given how, well, since my first year there has always been something lurking the corridors trying to kill us. So I should kinda consider myself lucky that, this time, my not paying attention only got me a neat detention."

Was he shocked that detentions were being handed out left and right? No. He knew that there would be troublemakers. Was he surprised that they were coming from Fletcher? No. The man was a disciplinarian, which was why he was at the school. He knew the others were soft ... for now. But was he puzzled by the fact that it was the Hufflepuffs that seemed to be causing a fuss? Yes. So much for them being known for their tolerance and having a strong moral code.

Regardless, the old man was more than happy to be joining Fletcher in dealing with the two boys. The former Prefect needed to be put his place, and the other was going to learn how to be respectful or he could kiss the school good-bye.

The sight of that one Hufflepuff standing outside of the room caused the man to grunt. Scrimgeour's eyes narrowed as he approached the young boy. "What are you doing out in the corridor, Prichard?" Oh, yes, the headmaster knew the boy's last name, which was not a good thing under the current circumstance. "Shouldn't you be inside with Professor Fletcher and your housemate?"

He pointed at the door with his metallic hand. Get on with it, boy.

Cal merely kept a blank face as he was left outside of the come and go room. He didn't much mind being left in the corridor without Professor Fletcher's nasty glares and obtuse way of dealing with students.. As far as Callum could tell the man was as thick as a horntail's neck.. And to be honest, Cal didn't think much of him as a teacher either.. He had no way with children.. And that was what he and the rest of the student body of Hogwarts was.. They were a poo ton of kids! Bloke need to get a grip, yeah?


He straightened up a little and stood a bit taller as Headmaster Scrimgeour came into view. Yes, he had known that he was going to be joining in proctoring this detention.. Hence the better posture.. " Don't really know, Sir.. Professor Fletcher didn't say nothin' to me.. Just took Derf inside. ", he replied plainly.

Scrimgeour, like he did with most things because of his past training as an Auror, noticed the boy's change in posture. He was slightly surprised that Prichard straightened up on his own accord, without him having to tell him to do so. He would have been impressed, but the man was convinced that the Hufflepuff was either afraid of him or he was very selective about who he gave respect to. Either way, the boy needed to learn that every professor, including Fletcher, was deserving of it.

The old man's brow raised ever so slightly when he heard the reason for why the boy was spending his detention thus far out in the corridor instead of inside the Come and Go Room. He wouldn't put it past Fletcher to leave a child standing alone in the corridor, but he knew the man would have done so with purpose.

"I am sure you do know why Professor Fletcher left you out here, Prichard. He has a reason for everything," the headmaster responded, his hand returning to his side. Odds were it was that mouth of his that got him into trouble once again. "Think about it for a moment, and then use some common sense to get yourself inside."

No matter how long it took the boy to figure it out, Scrimgeour would be standing there, watching and waiting.

Yes. They would be getting into the how at some point. Calvin conjured himself a chair and took a seat as he gazed around the room once more. He listened while the Hufflepuff explained. To his credit, at least he got half the answer right. The man nodded slowly, returning his gaze to him. "Is that the only thing you can think of that might, in hindsight, have been a bit disrespectful?"

There was something, it was appalling, he was sure he could figure it out.

Fletcher thought back to Mr. Prichard. The fact the door hadn't been knocked told him the boy still didn't know what needed to be done or was refusing as he had the stubborn tendency to do. Either way, it was his metaphoric funeral. They would be here as long as it would take and if the boy got done at 5:59 am, he would still have to go jogging, on time by 6, unless he wanted further punishment.

"I'd rather we not spend the entire night on this, Mr. Ashburry-Hawthorne, and I have no doubt you're an intelligent boy who would've come to the conclusion without my help, but here's a hint. It's got to do with the level of control you don't seem to have over your mouth."

Clear enough?

Now that he had to focus on speaking and WHY he was here, Derf found his attention waning towards the younger Hufflepuff still outside the door. The jury was still out as to whether or not Derf respected Professor Fletcher, but he did at least think he understood the man. Alpha creatures were not particularly difficult to assess, especially when their actions were so blunt. Which was why his eyes briefly drifted towards the door, wondering just how long Reese Callum was going to stay out there. He reckoned things would only be worse if he was found out there by Professor Noble or.....the Headmaster.

Derf had fleetingly thought about his status as a member of his house's quidditch team and it being in jeopardy over his status as prefect, though he had not allowed his mind to linger there too long. Now though...now those consequences felt a bit more real.

Lost in thought, Derf only half heard the Divination professor when he was addressed again. The surprise clearly visible when the man called him intelligent, perhaps sarcastically, the 16-year-old's brow furrowed and his lips thinned into a straight line. "I know how you want me to answer, sir," he replied honestly, his tone even and lacking so much as ounce of sass in his tone. Though yes, the Hufflepuff did have a way of letting his mouth run away from him. Which was basically about to happen right now. "I acknowledge...the level of inappropriateness involved in talking back to an authority figure. That defending my integrity as a person was out of line and disrespectful...and wasted class time otherwise spent teaching." He paused, swallowing, part of his brain WILLING him to just shut up and end it there. And yet... "....I accepted and performed my punishments without protest. Apologized for my ignorant mistake. I believe an entitled person would have continued acting out, sir."

Yes... Cal was stubborn like no one these men had ever met. And yes. He was VERY selective as to whom he showed respect to. What the headmaster had to understand about how his little badger brain worked was, Fletcher hadn't shown him any respect and therefore he would garner none until such a time as he did so.. Scrimgeour, however, hadn't been a total tool from the off. Fletcher was just mean and harsher than necessary.


Callum was near exasperated as he looked up at the headmaster. What didn't the old man understand? Nothing had been said to him at all when the professor had taken his prefect into the Come and Go room. At least not to him. And frankly, he was rather glad Fletcher hadn't paid him much mind at all beyond that ugly glare of his. " Sir.. Don't ya think if I knew why I was still standin' out here that I'd tell ya so I can just go in there and do whatever it is that I've got to?.. Merlin knows I've better and far more important things to do than to stand here jawin' with you.. " , the second year answered semi-forcefully. His irritation hard to hide as his ears went red. He was miffed really.. He had assignments that needed finishing and here he was. Stuck in detention.

The old man's brow rose when the Hufflepuff was half-way through his response. Prichard was totally oblivious? And he, allegedly, had 'better' things to do? The headmaster was highly amused that the boy thought he had better things he could be doing rather than standing outside in the middle of a corridor when he was supposed to be serving detention.

"If you had better things to do, then I am surprised you wound up in detention in the first place, Prichard," Scrimgeour retorted. "And I would watch that tone of yours if I were you..." What was it going to take to get it through the boy's head that it was his mouth that had been getting him into trouble?

"I will tell you this, standing out here is not going to get anywhere any time soon. Do something about it. If you are locked out, what needs to be done to get inside?" The question was rhetorical, and the man expected the boy to take action at this point. It wasn't rocket science.

Now because HE, the headmaster, actually had important things to do, the man again pointed at the door.

It astounded him to think that even with the time ticking by, Mr. Prichard still hadn't made any attempts to rectify the situation so he could begin his detention. At this rate, Mr. Ashburry-Hawthorne would be done and gone by the time he got started....or maybe not. A deep scowl set in as he considered the boy.

"You'd been doing well until the end of that statement, Derfael." He didn't remember asking his take on what an entitled person was or was not. A part of the problem with this one was his insistence on saying unnecessary things that the man had no use for. Answered questions, but tacked on things that diminished the response itself.

"But for the larger part, it sounds as if you've got the right idea. Whether you agreed with my statement or not, further interrupting my class to voice this was not the way to go about it. I have an office. You were welcome to try changing my mind there when I was no longer in the middle of delivering a lesson. There's a time and a place for everything. There's also a right and a wrong way to address a Professor. I don't want to have to tell you any of this again." In fact, he wouldn't. This was a first and last warning for the boy.

"Begin with the stack to your left." Dusty tomes and other writings. "Be careful of any insects that might be buried in them. Surprise is not excuse enough for screaming." In case the Hufflepuff was so inclined. "Remove the dust, get them onto their shelf by subject then alphabet."

He still couldn't help but make nervous glances towards the door between pauses, wondering if Reese Callum was...well...wondering WHAT he was even doing right now. Though soon his eyes did return back to the Divination professor, nodding his head long before the man had finished his sentence. He knew and honestly had been prepared for some more backlash...so he was a bit surprised when it did not come. Pleasantly so and, well, making assumptions went both ways now, didn't it?

Honestly, Derf was finding this detention informative and all in all...he did not find the new Divination professor all that unreasonable. On top of it all...he felt seen. Incredibly misunderstood, yes. But seen.

"Understood, sir," was all he offered in reply to that.

Eyeing the stack indicated by Professor Fletcher, he couldn't help but crack a bit of a smile. "You need not worry about my doing that, professor." He even sounded excited about prospect of coming across an insect or two. Or a rodent. Or, well, who KNEW what would appear in here! The bald man had just opened up an entire other door of possibility right now.

Though he did have one question for clarification.

"Magically, sir?" he inquired as he moved over to the stack and picked up the topmost book. He nearly sat down, his knees even bent to do so, but quickly straightened up. He did not see any mundane cleaning materials around. Which, well, made his skin goosebump a bit at having to cast spells on potentially ancient texts. He had become rather proficient in them for Simon's sake at least.

" I wound up in detention, Sir, because I spoke up for a fellow student. And to be frank.. I don't see a thing wrong with my tone.. As for more important things.. I'm sure you understand that I'm still responsible for completing all assignments and course work for my classes, Professor.. I'd prefer not to be a total problem for your professors. Right, Sir? ", Cal replied. And Yes.. He was quite aware that it was his mouth and manner in which words kept spewing forth, like verbal liquid poo.. He just didn't have a filter. He didn't see the issue with allowing people to know just exactly where they rated.

But all that said he regarded the older man and the way he tended to look down his nose at him was setting the second year off to defend himself rather than start to bow down to authority. Callum had an edgy glint in his eye as he simply pulled his wand from his robe pocket and pointed it at the key hole beneath the door latch, " Alohomora!. "


CLICK!


Cal didn't wait for praise or a pat on the back.. Nope, he was passed that stage in his young life and he especially didn't think that Scrimgeour would be the type to say he was impressed, even if he was..

He pushed the door open and walked into the Come and Go Room and had a proper look around. " Point me to the pile ya want me to work on.. ", he said as he came to stand in front of the Divination professor. Still not giving a greeting.. They were passed that point as well... Let's just be on with it, yeah?

Did the man ask for the Hufflepuff boy to respond to him? No. So, when the boy replied, the headmaster's eyed narrowed. The words that were said were not acceptable. THIS was exactly what he had been talking about. But, before he could even get a word out to the second year, he was already unlocking the door ... with magic. Again, that was totally unnecessary — not to mention absolutely rude.

Scrimgeour followed the boy inside the room. Then, without warning, the metallic hand grabbed the boy by the shoulder with his metallic hand and dragged him back out of the room. With a flick of his wand using his other hand, the door was locked once more.

"Boy, you are going to get one final chance to get this right. Otherwise, you will be packing your bags tonight and leaving the castle permanently," he warned, his eyes sending daggers at Prichard as his grip released him. "You continue to argue with those of authority, which is wrong. Your actions continue to be defiant, which is wrong. If you cannot respect those in authority, then there will be no respect for you."

Was it starting to make sense now?

The man doubted it. This one was no brighter than a Troll.

"Hand over your wand, and try the door again. This time you will wait for the door to be opened for you, and you will ask to be let in so you can officially start your detention."

Were they somehow moving onto the same page? It was starting to look that way. He didn’t so much care for the actual cleaning, just that the point had gotten across. The actual detention was more a formality. Actions had consequences. You remove the consequences and students stopped considering the real weight of their actions.

“No.” Not said harshly but as an afterthought in light of the boy’s question. “No, I’ll be needing your wand, Mr. Ashburry-Hawthorne.” The man flicked his own to reveal a set of cleaning equipment. Two buckets, rags, feather dusters, furniture polish and the like.

“Once you’ve handed it over, you may—“

What happened in the next minute absolutely stunned him. Speechless was too mild a description for the reaction the man had to the door being opened—magically clearly as he had locked it—and he just....waltzed in sans any form of polite greeting or acknowledgement before .....

The man’s face reddened with indignation and the boy was set to receive the most painful hex of his life when Scrimgeour came in and saved the day yanked him back out. The nerve of that boy. Fletcher remained speechless for the first few minutes after the door closed again, taking an extra while to realize the Headmaster had now arrived at the detention. It occurred to him then that the man may have been out there with Prichard this whole time. Why else would the boy suddenly think it okay to barge in?

Shaking his mind of the distraction, the man extended his hand. “Your wand, Mr. Ashburry-Hawthorne.”

Seeing how akin the Hufflepuff was to listening to the calls of creatures and pick up on the subtle shifts in tone and pitch, Derf shift of the Divination professor's voice. What the man likely did not know was that he was really doing the sixth year, and the surrounding materials, a favor. So it was, just as in class with his badge, that the Hufflepuff reached into his robe's pocket for his wand - though this stung far more than turning over his badge. A wizard's wand was an extension of themselves and there was something to be said about stripping a wizard of that. Derf hardly deemed this necessary, sending that sort of message to him, to complete this task. Particularly since it had been of his own asking only that this was happening in the first place.

He really was proficient in bringing misery upon himself, wasn't he.

Though as soon as he had relieved his wand of its holster...the door swung open and Reese Callum stepped in. Relief washed over his face because FINALLY only to have that stripped of him as well. And in the form of a metallic hand, no less.

Bewildered, Derf stood there in silence along with Follically Challenged™ and shook his head in surprise when the man spoke again.

Wand...right.

Not that he felt he had earned this since his own tresspassings hadn't included magic to begin with. He could clean manually just as well with his wand nestled into his pocket. Still, swallowing, he handed the wand over with a reluctant and shaking hand and briefly wondered if doing so would make his wand feel betrayed and its allegiance shift any.

Sighing and without another word, he turned to move back over to the pile with the provided cleaning supplies in hand. He had been told he could do so...or at least he felt it reasonable to infer that 'begin' was the word wasted in the air as the door had opened and interrupted them. Tome back in hand, Derf prepared a rag with cleaning solution and began to gingerly massage the cover to relieve it of all its dirt and grime.

You couldn't even see what the title of the book was it was so...covered in gunk.

Nothing like the icy cold grip of metal!!!! What the heck! Cal spun around on the Headmaster as quicker than the man could've said bowtruckle at the hard heavy hand on his shoulder. His eyebrow raised as he looked from lump of metal to the owner of it. "Umm.. How 'bout ya take your pseudo- hand off me there, Sir.. ", the youngster said with a bit a force in his voice. " I'm quite capable of removin' myself from the room thanks... "


Yes, he knew he was likely making things worse for himself, but again Callum wasn't about to be silent when he clearly was being mistreated. " What do ya want from us all?! Ya say we are all sad defenseless magically inapt kids... So, I use magic and it's not right. Ya ask a question and yet don't want it answered!... Send me home if ya must.. I don't care!.. But I show up to take responsibility for my actions... But I'll never quit stickin' up for myself of anyone I see getting picked on by you or anyone else..", all this being said as he was dragged back out of the room. The door being relocked behind them. And with that he folded his arms across his chest and refused to knock on the door.. Now that he knew what it was that the headmaster was wanting him to do. Pfft… Good luck, Buddy...

What did he want from them? He wanted them to obey orders, follow rules, and not be rebellious monsters. That was what Julian Scrimgeour wanted from them. But, apparently, that was too difficult for the young Hufflepuff to understand, which was a pity as the man was certain a Troll could comprehend that much.

The headmaster let out a low grunt as the boy spewed out word after word after word. The only words that rang in the man's head over and over were 'send me home if ya must.'

Wish granted. The old man was done dealing with the child. He wasn't worth all of this trouble. He was a lost cause.

"Pack your bags, Prichard. You are, as of this moment, expelled for your incapacity to hold your tongue, your failure to hold yourself accountable for your own actions, and your lack of respect for those of authority. You will be leaving in the morning at the crack of dawn. I don't want to hear another word out of you. Go."

He stood there, his cold eyes glaring at the boy. All he wanted to see was that boy walk down that corridor and out of his sight for good in total silence.

A visitor to his office about some OWL coursework had caused 6pm to come and go before he'd left his office, so Noble made it up to the seventh floor corridor a bit later than he'd planned. And going by the exchange he found when he'd arrived, he'd missed something rather major indeed. Hopefully things were going a little better for Derfael, assuming he was with Fletcher inside.

"Headmaster," he greeted, his face giving very little away as he eyed the young Hufflepuff. Well, soon-to-be former Hufflepuff, if Scrimgeour stuck to his word. "Professor Fletcher invited me to come by and observe proceedings, but I fear I might be too late." As the boy's Head of House, he was disappointed by his verbal tirade indeed. Really, he'd given the Headmaster no choice. And expulsion, unlike detention, could be incredibly problematic for the rest of one's school career. It was a sad state of affairs, and Noble pursed his lips.

"Perhaps I would be of better service escorting Callum here back to his dorm and supervising his packing." Not a job he'd anticipated having, but then when did anything go exactly to plan at the castle?

Callum's face remained expressionless as Headmaster Scrimgeour was true to his threat.. Or rather, his promise to expel him from school. He wasn't at all surprised. In fact, he felt a sense of relief at not needing to meet these men's lofty expectations. He did have to resist the urge to shrug as if he couldn't care less.. He didn't need to hold his tongue.. At this point there was nothing more Cal wanted to say to the man.


Just as he went to turn away to head back to his dorm room to begin his packing his Head of House came strolling up.. A bit too late, Noble... A bit too late.. Oh well. He had no trouble meeting the professor's gaze. He wasn't ashamed like he should be right now. If anything he felt proud of himself that he was able to keep true to his beliefs and because of that, was paying the piper.. " I know the way back, Professor.. Besides.. I've been packed for a couple weeks now.." , Cal quipped. He knew he'd been a target for his outspoken nature and unwillingness to respect the un-respectables.

And with that he turned and headed back down toward the Hufflepuff common room.