As he studied Ms. Bonaccord’s face waiting for her response, Basil was pleased to note that she seemed very well. She looked just about how he remembered her, if a little more… debutant (though he couldn’t quite put his finger on how or why…) and the enthusiasm she still carried for her studies greatly assuaged him. He was proud of Ms. Bonaccord for holding firm to her interests and pursuing them in a way most young ladies refused. Just this year another one of his brightest bulbs flickered and went out in Ms. Jessamine Parkinson who, having had a masterful appreciation for Transfiguration, had taken the traditional path to join society and set all personal ambition aside. It was always disheartening. But to see here, now, that such was not the case with all his favorites, Basil felt a huge sense of relief and pride. Two years. He marveled at the fact for a moment. It was incredible how time continued to move forward even as it felt so still. It had been a long time since much had changed in Basil’s own yearly routine. Seasons came and went, most of them filled with the same transitions from Hogwarts to home and back again, with only slight variations on the whole. But for Ms. Bonaccord who was yet still quite young, he could only imagine how each year brought with it whole lifestyle changes. Nodding in profound understanding, Basil agreed. “Time is such a curious thing, slipping through our grasp like sand in an hourglass— sometimes it is so difficult to comprehend.”
At mention of her studies, his face lit up in the way it only did when engaged academically in a topic of great interest. How clever! The questions Ms. Bonaccord raised pulled from him a vigorous nod of agreement, even as Basil ignored the chaperone. (He too thought it unnecessary and unpleasant to have to tote around someone whose sole purpose was to curb the very enthusiasm he so appreciated!) “You bring up excellent points,” he responded, just as eagerly. “Please, don’t apologize for it.” And, moving around to the other side of his desk as he spoke, Basil began to shuffle his many papers and tombs in search of something. “In fact… I debated this very topic a few summers ago with one of my colleagues who did some work in South America and she put me in contact with a gentleman who had insight to share upon the topic… ah, here we are!” Brandishing a stack of letters thoroughly annotated with questions and responses about the very nature of transfiguration across clans, specifically in the Amazonian region of Brazil, Basil flipped a few pages and then smoothed the stack. “If you will forgive the messy nature of my notes, there may be something of interest to your work here— I corresponded with this gentleman, a Mr. Beckham, for some time and made reference to his work in Amazonia many times in my recent publication. He makes note of variants to the animagus potion that may have existed in the Serra do mar mountains and some other native plants that botanists and herbologists in England have yet to classify! It’s all very fascinating!” Basil didn’t mention his own secondary interest in herbology since it didn’t seem relevant, but his notes would certainly hint as much if she read through them. He handed her the stack.
Blushing a bit at the congratulations on his most recent work however, the brunette cleared his throat. “Thank you,” he responded graciously. “Though you do flatter me in calling it a book. It’s really more of a rambling attempt at an academic journal. My publicist has been asking me to undertake an actual book for ages now though. I shall be happy to pass along your feedback and put him off just once more.” He said the latter with a small tease that hinted at a shared joke between them and grinned as he did so.