Basil was in the home stretch before the holidays. He had just wrapped up his latest, nine-month research escapade and was quite pleased to finally be submitting it to Transfiguration Today. With his hair askew and a quill in his mouth, the excited professor snapped a few books closed and shoved them aside on his nightmare of a desk.

It was December 16th, only a few more days until the term fully ended and his purgatory of social events began. Most of his classes were wrapping up their final assignments, which meant he’d have quite a bit of grading to do over the next few weeks, and the pile of papers he was due to hand back was growing ever more steadily.

Somewhere amidst the chaos was a plate he’d snagged from an early trip to the kitchens around lunch. Basil knew this close to his submission there was very little he was likely to venture out of his domain for and food was not the priory at the moment. He’d taken a few bites out of the scones and all that was left of the pumpkin pasty was crumbs, so Basil was primarily running on caffeine and sugar. Somewhere nearby a pot of tea and an enchanted teacup floated always just within reach.

Muttering to himself, Basil grabbed the quill from between his teeth and scribbled something. “That ought to bring the right kind of attention,” he assured himself, lost in thought. A sudden thump! thump! sound on his door brought the professor out of his reveries then and he blinked himself back to reality. What an odd sound for a knock. Setting his quill aside, Basil went to open the door.

At first inspection he saw nobody standing there in the hall. How strange. He peered about, looking left and right, and was about to close the door when he spotted a round little someone by his foot. Basil couldn’t help but smile. “Ah, hello my good chap!” he greeted the hedgehog familiarly. “I was rather hoping you’d stop by today.”

Moving aside, Basil ushered him in. “Come in, come in,” he allowed, leaving the door ajar. “There’s a scone on the desk, feel free to help yourself.”

Picking up his quill again, Basil continued his scribbling. “Tonight, my dear little friend, is a night of triumph!”

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