Gus watched the young woman in front of him expectantly; he watched her face twist into frustration before she calmed herself down, and watched as she took his instruction in stride to shoot the spell directly at him. In hindsight it probably wasn’t the best idea but it was the easiest way for him to look at their form, incantation as well as how the spell looked when it shot from the wand. It helped too that this particular memory charm was temporary, lasting only as long as the amount of emotion they’d put into it. People tended to be shocked at how well he was at curses and hexes given his disposition, although he would argue that while the spells were considered dark arts they didn’t need negative emotions behind them to be successful. Any emotion was enough to properly cast the spells. (Other times he’d grin and say it was the only way he knew how to expel his negative emotions.)

Gold sparks shot out of the wand which made the young professor squint. That wasn’t right. Gus flicked his wand to cast Protego, and an invisible wall flickering in front of him. While a very effective spell, the problem tended to be sometimes it was [i]too[i] effective when it came to simpler hexes, and rather than absorbing them it reflected them. It didn’t help that he flicked his own wand upward to dispel the shield, not realizing that his spell hadn’t absorbed hers but rather ricocheted it toward the ceiling; it wasn’t until he saw the gold sparks from the corner of his eye that he cast Protego once more, but rather than sending the spell straight back to Miss Dashwood Gus reflected it out the door and into the hallway.

His luck of course had never been anything grand and he could hear the spell take hold of someone, which made him wince. Memory charms were hard to reverse and he wasn’t sure how much damage the incorrect spell would do to a person. His eyes wide, he watched the Ravenclaw in front of him before he offered her a slight smile and nod of the head. “Please stay here for a moment.” And without a response Gus stepped out the door toward the individual halfway slumped to the floor.

Professor Foxwood, naturally. Gus knelt down in front of him, relieved to see he was still breathing, before he cursed quietly under his breath. “Ms. Dashwood,” He called from the hallway, “Thank you for coming, but I’m afraid I’ll have to cut the lesson short. He’ll be fine, I promise. Very well done.” A lie, a truth, he didn’t quite know, but he wasn’t going to start panicking with her still nearby.

Students: 1, Gus: 2, Basil: 0

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