Basil was on his way to the owlery. After learning of his brother’s rather ridiculous predicament, he’d decided to spend the evening doing some research into the transfiguration properties of hair and color. (Not a subject he ever thought he’d need to investigate, mind you.) He knew it would be a few days until he could see Atticus and properly fix the situation himself, so - after a good laugh - Basil had decided to take pity on his sibling and write out a few potential solutions his research that evening had bore. He was just passing the Defense Against the Art Darks classroom, with some chagrin and hoping to slip by undetected, when something came bursting out of the room. Basil barely had time to register that it was a spell before it hit him square in the face, allowing no room for him to duck. Astounded, quite literally, the man felt himself trip back into the wall and slide down a touch before everything blurred out of focus.
* * *
Some indeterminate amount of time later, Basil could hear voices in the oblivion above his head. He recognized one of the two, but not the other. The one he didn’t recognize was female, and seemed to be asking something about a nurse? Basil’s eyes blinked open at a soft touch on his cheek, but his vision and mind were blurry. He didn’t recognize the form that came into view, or really forms plural, but one of them was at least more familiar than the other.
“What happened?” He asked groggily. Then, feeling rather rude, but concerned nonetheless that something had - indeed - happened, Basil turned his attention to the girl. “Who are you?” He asked her. She had brown hair and Ravenclaw robes, so she must have been in his house but Basil could not place her for the life of him. Dashwood?