Fall term was in full swing as Basil organized the last details in the common room. He’d had the elves bring up a veritable mountain of pumpkin pasties along with a number of other snack-like savories and sweets and they were all collected along a neat little table by the wall. The hearth was roaring with a nice warm fire and extra cushions, both for the floor and the various couches and seats, had been arranged in the trademark blue and silver. It was a rather nice spread, all things considered. He could only hope it went well.

As the first students began to trickle in, some settled into seats while others meandered past— curious but busy. Basil tidied up a small mess of the papers he’d been working on grading earlier before he sent them back to his desk in his office with a flick of his wand. Ignacio was the first to pipe up, leaning on the back of a chair and whining about how he didn’t want to participate and Basil huffed at his nephew. “You must, to make up for the trouble you caused in Transfiguration this week,” he replied, tersely. “Don’t think I won’t contact your father if you keep this up,” he added. Basil was his professor after all, not that he wanted to poke the Sidonia bear any more than any of the rest of them. The secret was not Papa Sidonia however. The secret was, “Or Lucy. I’m sure she wouldn’t like to hear you’ve been up to mischief either.”

That did it. Ignacio slid onto his seat and crossed his arms glowering, but didn’t respond. Basil could have laughed at his nephew for it, but refrained, knowing better. If he was glad that Ms. Greene had taken up residence near his nephew he didn’t comment on it, but he rather hoped she might be a good influence on him. Merlin knew they all needed it.

Eventually a small group amassed and Basil cleared his throat. Ms. Paxton had brought in the last stragglers and he eyed her gleefully as he made an introduction and explained how the evening was to go. He would ask a question and anyone who had an option could speak up, stating an answer— and their reason for it. House Points would be awarded to those that were particularly creative, or well-thought out. Decorum was to be expected of each of them too, Basil reminded his Ravenclaws lightly. (But he didn’t think they needed it this year; not with how swimmingly things had been going. For the most part.) Then, he settled himself against the arm of one of the big leather armchairs.

“Our first question of debate then shall be the following,” he announced, starting off strong with a Transfiguration question. “When you transfigure a beetle into a button, is it still alive?”

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