October 19, 1879 - Transfiguration Classroom, Hogwarts (Basil's Sixth Year, Fall Term)
It had been some weeks since Basil’s little excursion into the restricted section and since then he’d read the entire text Mr. Macnair had helped him attain from cover to cover. He’d written more than enough for Thompson’s essay too, exceeding the scroll minimum by almost four pages. Their detention hadn’t been the most thrilling, but with it behind him, Basil was pleased. His favorite time of year was upon them. Autumn was… in its very essence, the most beautiful, poetic and peaceful season of the year for many reasons. Firstly, he enjoyed his time at Hogwarts more than he enjoyed his time at home these days. There was just something to be said for the aesthetic of it, and he adored his classes. Here Basil felt… appreciated. Wanted. He had a purpose. The flavors of the season were also amongst the Ravenclaw’s favorite; pumpkin pasties especially. He was on the hunt for them year ‘round, but at least in October they were abundant. (If he’d started having them for breakfast recently, that was nobody’s business but his own.)
Today, as he walked across the castle grounds, arms laden-full of books, a crisp chill accompanied Basil and the brunette snuggled his nose into the blue and grey scarf around his neck. He’d just stopped off at the library for some reading material for the weekend and was on his way back to Ravenclaw tower. He had to drop off a book for Thompson that he’d borrowed the week prior, but Nee had class and so Basil found himself alone on this Friday afternoon, already ahead in most of his coursework. He was excited to dig into a text entitled “Samhain Origins,” an indulgent break from the transfigurative scrolls he usually preferred. The idea of curling up with this book and a mug of tea by the window overlooking the greenhouses was so cozy that Basil couldn’t help but hum a little as he crossed the threshold back into the castle.
He was ambling along, thinking to himself how pleasant this upcoming evening was shaping up to be, when he spotted someone in one of the empty classrooms. The transfiguration classroom, to be precise. His very destination. Basil paused in the doorway only to spot Agrimony Macnair fiddling with… he wasn’t even sure what. Curiosity getting the best of him, Basil cleared his throat awkwardly from the doorframe. “Er— hi,” he offered, shuffling in about half way. He didn’t want to intrude if Macnair preferred to be alone, but he did have to drop off Professor Thompson’s book. Settling his things on the desk nearest the door, Basil picked it up and turned it over in his hands awkwardly. “I er— just had to drop something off,” he explained, though why he wasn’t exactly sure.