January 8, 1892 - Hogwarts Classroom

Gus racked his hand through his hair for the sixth, seventh, tenth time in the past few minutes as he scoffed, staring down at the slew of papers still in front of him. The quill still stood straight up with the tip pressing into the paper to create a small ink blotch, awaiting further instruction from him - he found having something else write his words down was much more impactful because his students weren’t asking what this scribble was supposed to say. He never had the best handwriting. Instead he released the charm and it clattered to the desk. Only a week into working at Hogwarts, Gus wasn’t entirely sure he made the right choice.

He was restless; he’d moved from reading papers to rereading the textbook to ensure his lessons were on par with the curriculum, but he’d found himself rereading the same paragraph until the words blurred together. He would probably recite it in his sleep tonight. How much work it would be to be a professor had never crossed Gus’s mind, although he was ready for the challenge; Augustus Lissington wasn’t a quitter. He just had to keep reminding himself that.

Sighing again, he pushed the stack of papers away and flicked his eyes up to the two large windows against the wall next to him, the sun outside shining brightly despite the cooler temperature. The temperatures in Egypt never dipped below the upper sixties, although the colder temperatures of London  made remembering he couldn’t waltz around the castle in just a linen shirt and trousers much easier. (The sleeves of his robe had been pushed to his elbows and he could hear Fig clicking her tongue, chiding him for not wearing his clothing correctly; if only she could have seen what he wore while trapezing through tombs.) Perhaps he should write to her.

First though he needed some food. His stomach gurgled. Gus stood abruptly as he pushed back from the worn wooden stool, rattling the contents on the table as he pushed it in; he reacted quick enough to steady the papers on the table, his elbow hitting a few items nestled near the edge at the movement. A chocolate frog rolled into the hallway and a pair of books clattered to the floor. The glass box housing a Hinkypunk shattered at his feet before he could reach for it, breaking the lock of it open; instantly the small creature resembling a wisp of blue smoke holding tightly to a lantern burst from it. Gus could only huff a slight laugh as he reached for his wand to repair the glass.

Well, at least he wasn’t sitting staring at words that bled together anymore. He laughed again, this time a bit more boldly. It caught the Hinkypunk’s attention and he merely grinned at it.

****
Basil Foxwood

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It had been exactly five days and approximately 3 hours since Basil had last crossed paths with Augustus Lissington. He knew this because he had deliberately made it so. Basil was not above skirting his old… whatever Lissing was, given the opportunity, and so far he’d avoided running into the other in the Great Hall at mealtimes and on the grounds. Sticking to his office and burying himself in research had proved an effective coping mechanism for avoidance of the necessary. Still, Basil knew that at some point he would have to face this dragon head-on.

That morning in fact, he’d been sitting in the lone armchair that adorned his private chambers and the thought of this wretched conversation had come to mind. Basil had played out almost twenty different scenarios in his head, each of them ending in disaster. He wasn’t sure exactly what there was to say really, he just knew something had to be done to address this ghost else he’d be hiding in his office all term. And, despite how much time Basil already spent holed up doing research, this was his territory damnit! He was not going to cower from Lissington! They would just have to learn to coexist!

Mind made up and with a bit of gumption behind his decision, Basil had taken a dive straight into grading the last of his N.E.W.T student essays from over break. He wasn’t ready quite yet to face the DADA professor, but come lunch-time he found he didn’t have much of a choice. Setting down his quill and standing from his place by the small fire in his chambers, Basil gave a stretch. His limbs were sore from grading papers in an armchair. His desk was always the better option but on this occasion, on a quiet Saturday, he hadn’t wanted to leave his little utopia. Everything Basil needed and held dear existed between these four stone walls, save for maybe sustenance. He had a kettle and some tea tins, perhaps a few snacks laying about, but really - aside from his four-poster and the blue armchair - there weren’t many creature comforts in the tiny space. Instead shelves and shelves of books occupied every available nook and cranny on the far side of the room. Basil found his living quarters comfortable though and on some days, not many but some (like today), he found it tiresome to have to step out into reality.

Supposing it was necessary, the transfiguration professor set aside his tea cup and made towards the the far left wall. There, he reached out to tickle one of the stones just above a small crack that lined it all the way across. The stone shifted and a mouse tail dropped out of it, twitching back and forth. Basil flicked his wand at the tail and in an instant it transfigured into a simple, gold door handle. Turning it, Basil opened the door and stepped out into his normal office. As soon as the enchanted door to his quarters was shut, it vanished and a bookshelf moved to cover the stone. Basil sucked in a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, tugging the long edges of it a bit. He really needed to organize in here.

It didn’t take long after that for Basil to maneuver his way through the castle towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. He supposed that ought to be the first place he checked for Lissington, assuming the other wasn’t in the Hall getting sustenance. His own stomach growled at the thought and Basil realized he hadn’t had anything more than a few cups of tea all day. Maybe he ought to have something to eat first, then revisit the Lissington issue. Everyone always seemed much less irritable after eating. No, no. Basil reasoned with himself that he had to do this now, else it would never happen. So, taking one last harrowing breath, the professor rounded the last corner and made his way towards the open door just down the hall.

A crash and a laugh sounded on his approach, and a few things toppled over and out into the corridor. It would seem the professor was in. Basil watched as a chocolate frog managed to wiggle out of its box and began hopping away in the other direction. Lucky devil, he thought to himself. With one last deep breath, Basil knocked against the door for Lissington’s attention and cleared his throat. “Is everything alright in here?”

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Gus Lissington

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The Hinkypunk, despite having no apparent facial feature in its cloudy form, Gus felt as if it was staring at him. It was a translucent creature, composed entirely of wispy blue smoke, with two stumpy arms and one thick supporting leg that caused a pronounced limp; one of the arms tightened against the lantern before it shifted to one of the further tables from him. The professor tilted his head as he grinned at the creature. It sure was going to make backing it into a corner easier than he’d expected.

But a knock at the door interrupted his thoughts and he turned at the sound of Foxwood’s voice. His eyes flitted around the classroom, knowing damn well how much he would frown at its current appearance. Rows of neatly lined tables filled most of the room, the single bench for students to sit on pushed beneath it; books he’d been using the day before still laid open on them, awaiting the next class once the weekend ended. Furthest from the door was his own desk sat upon a small platform, books and trinkets strewn across it, making most of it unusable until he organized it. (It was on his to-do list. But then again, everything was on his to-do list nowadays it seemed.)  It was the reason he’d taken up residence at a table nearest the door, figuring a change of scenery would help his brain focus.

Gus couldn’t hide the bewilderment that filtered across his face - the other had gone out of his way to avoid him, but it’s not as if he sought Foxwood out himself. He was still settling into a routine (ugh), and finding time to eat, plan and execute lessons seemed to take up most of his day; if he wasn’t stealing a few hours of sleep in his private quarters, the professor was in his classroom - it was much more home than anywhere else right now. He figured they’d coexist, and if forced to interact  they’d do so with strained smiles and clipped words; he couldn’t offer more, not when old memories had resurfaced so quickly followed by even older feelings he’d never be able to shake. At least now he could put them into a box and save himself some heartache.

A second later a grin spread over Gus’s face. He couldn’t pinpoint why Foxwood would go out of his way to ensure everything was fine, although perhaps he’d thought there’d be students milling about. “Just a small mishap. ‘Fraid the hinkypunk,” he moved to gesture toward it, only to frown upon realizing that it was no longer on the table it had been at moments before, “... is somewhere around here.” His eyes flickered around the room in hopes of seeing the lantern it carried but the room was too bright from the early afternoon sun. The hinkypunk grunted somewhere from inside the classroom.

****
Basil Foxwood

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Basil could see the skepticism on Lissington’s face as they finally made eye contact for the first time in almost 6 days. At least he was glad they seemed to be one the same you-avoid-me, I-avoid-you page. It made life easier for the both of them. What didn’t make life easier, and made Basil wish he’d never stopped by, was a loose Hinkypunk. Startled, he glanced around the classroom himself trying to identify it.

“You let it loose?” He deadpanned, rather accusatorially at his… er, colleauge. Basil racked his brain for anything he might know about Hinkypunks. They were little wisps, if he remembered correctly, that lured travelers into bogs or something like that. He wasn’t sure exactly where they were native to, but he supposed that didn’t really matter right now. “Where is it?” Basil asked rather densely. He considered offering to help nail it down, but with their track record, he figured he’d just start helping until Lissington told him otherwise.

Stepping into the room, Basil took stock of anything that indicated movement. A slight glare caught his attention from just to the left and he slowly, carefully pulled out his wand. “Is that it?” He murmured under his breath, gesturing vaguely at the glare. Before either of them could say anything further however, the glare darted and Basil lost sight of it altogether.

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Gus Lissington

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Tilting his head slightly, Gus watched a startled look spread across Foxwood’s face at the news before he glanced around the room, as if suddenly the Hinklepunk would materialize in front of him. It had taken him quite some time to track down someone who had a Hinkypunk and even longer for him to decide that was the route he wanted to go with his students - he was quite aware how one wrong move could send one of his students to the infirmary, but hands on learning of creatures was the best possible way he could think of for practice. It was a statement he’d still stand by. Gus nearly groaned at the tone Foxwood used but instead he dropped his head into his hands. What he really needed was well, not this. Not right now.

Raising his head, Gus turned to frown at the other. “No I didn’t let it loose. I’m not -” He snapped at him. Then, thinking better of his own tone he sighed and raked his fingers through his hair; Gus was not having this conversation with him. He was already stressed enough and having Foxwood throw accusations at him wasn’t helping squash the idea that he’d made a terrible mistake. He wasn’t going to be run out of Hogwarts because his feelings were hurt.

Foxwood entered the classroom, flicking his wand in the direction of the Hinkypunk and Gus merely watched him. He opened his mouth to confirm, but the creature moved quickly, disappearing from sight. Reaching to pull his own wand out, Gus stepped to stand next to him, blue hues scanning the classroom. It was a disaster, giving it too many places to hide. There - the lantern glowed next to a stack of books a few tables over, the Hinkypunk leaning against it as its nubs reached into the lantern. Gus grit his teeth and raised his wand, stepping forward.

“Flipendo!” The books flew backwards, Hinkypunk included, into the light of the window; it screeched with what he could only assume was rage and tossed a few fireballs from its lantern at them. Gus watched with wide eyes, hoping that they didn’t land on anything he needed.

Then it solidified.

****
Basil Foxwood

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Are you student? Learn how to earn house points!

Basil couldn’t help but visibly flinch a little at the adjacent professor’s tone. He knew he deserved it; he hadn’t been much more forgiving a moment ago either but he wasn’t used to hearing Lissing’s voice sound like that. It was odd really, how over the past few days he’d been imagining his now-colleuege’s voice over and over, and yet it never sounded quite like that. He should have expected it, but Basil hadn’t. He still remembered the jovial, carefree, endlessly sweet voice of his Gus Lissington from their seventh year.

In the next moment before he could be sure he’d actually seen the Hinkypunk, everything happened rather quickly. Lissington stepped forward, having spotted it across the room, and the Hinkypunk reacted. As a spell was cast and fireballs flew, Basil saw the room move as if in slow motion. He reached out towards the other and yanked Lissington down by the front of his robes, both of them tumbling forward. Basil landed on his hands and knees, wand rolling away, and Lissington… well…

Big blue eyes stared up at him as something in the corner of the room set ablaze. Basil felt a warm heat rising through his chest and into his face. Then, as if to make things worse, something rolled off the desk beside them and hit the brunette square in the back of the head. Basil yelped, ducking. “What the bloody—!“ he caught himself before something more obscene escaped and reached up to rub the back of his head. “You and your blasted adventures,” he couldn’t help but grumble, somewhat fondly. “How is it you didn’t perish over the last few years?”

Basil Foxwood sat back on his haunches, trying not to make a great deal of having landed on top of the other man. As he made to stand, the back of his head began to throb and Basil grumbled some more, this time to himself, as he retrieved his wand. Cheeks still pink, the professor turned to look towards the small fire that the Hinkypunk had started and cast an extinguishing spell in its general direction. He wasn’t sure what had actually happened to the Hinkypunk itself. “Where is it now?” He asked, wand still poised and ready.

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Gus Lissington

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Sometimes life happened in slow motion, and those were the moments worth remembering. One moment Gus was standing with his wand at ready, staring at the spot he’d thrown the Hinkypunk to and the next he was being pulled down, and on instinct he tangled his own fingers in Foxwood’s robes to pull him down with him. He blinked slowly, finding the other professor awkward hovering over him. Beautiful grey eyes he’d happily gotten lost in so many years ago and would give nearly everything to lose himself in them one more time stared down at him. Gus’s cheeks were painted crimson yet there was a familiar want to wrap his arms around his neck and pull him down to kiss him breathless like they were seventeen again. Rules and society be damned.

His heart hammered in his chest as he tossed him a lopsided grin, laughing quietly as something rolled off his desk and smacked Foxwood in the back of his head. “Sheer luck and a healer who stopped asking questions a few months in.” Gus answered quietly, propping himself up on his elbows as Foxwood sat back. He made a motion to stand once the other professor did, shifting forward to touch the back of his head but then thought better of it. He knew Foxwood wouldn’t appreciate it, and for some reason that made his heart hurt. He wasn’t his anymore and wouldn’t ever be again.

Shaking his head, Gus turned toward the window as he flicked his wand in the general direction. “By the window, but it won’t stay solid for long. If we hit it a couple more times it will dissipate.” Hinkypunks were difficult to catch, although not as difficult to get rid of. He would have to find another for next semester and ensure he placed the cage somewhere it wouldn’t shatter.

“Is your head ok? I’m an okay healer. Not enough to get hired by St. Mungos, but enough to heal some scraps and cuts.” He offered quietly, turning to look at him.

****
Basil Foxwood

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Basil couldn’t help the slightly asphyxiated feeling he felt at having had his face so close to that of the red-head. It stirred up too many memories that, now as he sat back and rubbed at his head, seemed to be flooding back and trying to catch him out. Still, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes playfully as the DADA professor quipped back at him about survival methods. There was the Gus Lissington he knew and had once… er—

Standing and looking about, doing his best to ignore the pulse of his skull and the pang in his heart, Basil turned in the direction the other had motioned. “Shouldn’t we try to recapture it?” He prompted. “For your… classes?” He guessed. Basil suddenly realized he didn’t actually know why Lissington had a Hinkypunk in the first place and it had never occurred to him to ask.

As the other motioned at his head though, Basil’s cheeks went red again and he declined politely. “No,” he mumbled. “Thank you. I’m fine.” He supposed it made sense the red-head had picked up a few things about healing. He obviously needed to out there in the savagery. Trying to change the subject and bookend this awkwardness, Basil moved towards the Hinkypunk. It lay right there where the other had promised, solidified.

“Odd creatures, Hinkypunks,” he mused aloud. Magical creatures had never been a particular interest of his, but it was fascinating nonetheless. Basil had never seen one up close before.

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Gus Lissington

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Gus tossed his head back and laughed. Here they were with a wild Hinkypunk loose in a classroom and Foxwood was worried about his classes; he was certainly more professional and Gus knew he could probably take some pointers from him, but that sounded like a discussion for later. “For my third years, although I just want them to look at it. Don’t need them to be too frightened of the class.” Pausing, Gus flicked his gaze over to the other professor before he added “Or me.”

He nodded then without much further comment. Foxwood moved up and Gus tucked his wand back into his robe as he grabbed the glass container on the desk. “Did you know they can sometimes work with faeries? If you follow them and manage to not be trapped they can sometimes reveal where they bury their treasure. I was never lucky enough, but I’m alive so good enough, eh?”  He grinned as he finally stepped up beside him. He couldn’t recall which scar was from a Hinkypunk’s lantern and which was from falling into a tomb he hadn’t seen. “In Egypt they appear near the desert or disappear into tombs so you lose your way. Nasty little buggers, even if they look harmless.”

Gus stared down at the creature, still solidified on the ground, although bits of the wisps were beginning to move. “Would you mind casting the spell to put it in?”

****
Basil Foxwood

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The following 1 user Likes Gus Lissington's post:1 user Likes Gus Lissington's post
   Basil Foxwood

Basil couldn’t help but find Lissington’s last little comment there odd. He gave the red-head an appraising look and wondered if, somewhere behind all that bravado, he was actually worried about his teaching post? Well, he should have thought about it a little more before accepting then shouldn’t he? a nasty little voice chirped in Basil’s ear. Shaking the thought aside, the transfiguration professor frowned. “They won’t be frightened of you,” he said, as gently and tactfully as possible.

Then, listening as Lissington shared information about the Hinkypunk and his adventures abroad, Basil felt both a keen interest and a suggestive aversion. He enjoyed learning more about a subject that was new and tangibly real to him at the moment, but he did not like the reminder of Lissington’s travels for… obvious reasons. He ignored the quip about being alive, stubbornly refusing to submit to the cliche of ’by god you’d better be!’ even if he felt it in every fibre of his being. Instead, he simply nodded and replied “Interesting,” as the other moved to pickup the container. He nodded at Lissington’s following request.

Watching with care as the Hinkypunk began to thaw, Basil flicked his wand. “Wingardium leviosa,” he muttered under his breath, floating the thing carefully and maneuvering it towards the glass encasing. When it finally found its home, he dropped his wand and watched with a satisfied snap as Lissington recaptured it. “Well,” he started. “That was a lot less messy than it could have been.” Basil ran a hand through his (now neatly cut) hair, mussing it, and said nothing about the small fire still burning away in the other corner of the classroom.

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Gus Lissington

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Foxwood murmured a reply before he flicked his wand to lift the small creature from the floor toward its temporary home. The wisps of the Hinkypunk began to fill the glass as Gus snapped the lid shut, pleased to finally have it back in its container. He wasn’t sure if his third years were ready for it quite yet, but he’d figure it out later. Then he set it down on one of the nearby tables, pushing it as far from the edge as he could  before he turned toward Foxwood, his fingers raking through red hair.

Gus paused for a moment as he glanced around the classroom; the table knocked over, books strewn across the floor and the small fire still flickered in the corner. He laughed quietly at the entirety of the situation - his classroom resembled his life right now, fire and all. Finally his eyes landed on Foxwood and he smiled gratefully at him, leaning back against the table. “Thank you for helping. You didn’t have to, but I really do appreciate it.”

Gus cast an extinguishing spell at the fire, watching it flicker out of existence until only a pile of ashes remained; he wondered what had caught fire and how replaceable it was. The man in front of was anything but replaceable. He missed Basil; he missed what they had and he missed their friendship. “I’m sorry too, Basil,” his name felt heavy on his tongue, but he missed it. He hated that he missed it, and hated how his head instantly went to their last interaction. Instead he lowered his voice and continued. “For yelling at you earlier. I won’t make an excuse and it was uncalled for.”

Sighing softly, Gus pushed himself to sit up on the desk, becoming suddenly very interested in a small figure he’d tucked into his pocket during his first curse breaker excursion. Still, he powered through, speaking softly. It was hard to admit it, but he was drowning. “You know me, so you know I charge headfirst and ask questions later. I guess I didn’t expect this to be so.. hard. Can I ask you something?”

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Basil Foxwood

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Basil nodded in response to the thank you statement. ‘Of course’ was on the tip of his tongue but he suppressed it in favor of evading the other’s gaze. Instead, he laced his fingers behind his back tightly and watched as Lissington put out the small fire. He tried to find a tactful way to transition into the real purpose of his visit, but if Basil was being honest, he very much didn’t want to. It would be perfect if he just found a way to make his excuses now and depart. He could feign that he’d heard the commotion and just stopped in to help. That was viable.

The sudden words that slipped from Lissington however, made Basil’s heart skip a beat. Perhaps the other was going to beat him to the punch after all. He was sorry. The transfiguration professor blinked, processing. For what? For what had happened all those years ago? For some wonky globe clopping him in the head when it had rolled off the desk just now? His name sounded heart-wrenchingly soft on those round Irish vocals and Basil couldn’t help but remember. He felt a warmth tinge his cheeks, even as Lissington dismissed all possible avenues of straying down that path. “Oh.”

Basil risked a glance at the other professor. “It’s forgotten,” he replied, dismissively. And it was. Basil couldn’t blame the man for being frustrated. They all said things they didn’t mean when emotion was involved.

Lissington then perched himself on one of the desks around them and pulled something out of his pocket. Basil couldn’t see what it was and he didn’t move any closer to try. Instead, he listened nervously as the man touched at the very surface of their prior acquaintanceship. (If this was how he reacted to even just a mention, Basil didn’t know how he was supposed to bring up the whole damn circumstance!) Reddening again, he shifted in place. “Of course,” he replied, quietly.

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Gus Lissington

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Gus’s fingers traced the face of the figurine; an elephant with the trunk broken off, but still a fond memory for him. It was the first time he’d successfully broken a charm on an object himself, and the first time he hadn’t taken a quill to a paper to write Basil, only to crumple it and toss it into the trash. The rejection had hurt. Still hurt. He had kept it because his mentor had deemed it worthless. For Gus, it marked the beginning of moving on, even if his heart never understood what his head did.

Setting the elephant down next to him, the redhead cast a nonverbal spell to close and lock the classroom door. His head was everywhere and he didn’t trust his mouth to filter what his brain couldn’t. He inhaled sharply. Finally, Gus flicked his gaze toward the other professor and smiled softly. “Your students love you, and it’s so easy to see. And you care so deeply for them.  I mean I get it, you’re so easy to lo-“ He cut himself off with an awkward laugh, a small tint of pink painting his cheeks.

He wasn’t going down that road again. “You were made for this, but then again I’m not surprised to see you excel at passing down a skill you were always brilliant at.” He missed him as his thoughts drifted to their late night study sessions before he shook his head to rid himself of the memories. Now was not the time to go down memory lane. Hell, he’d run away from Foxwood. The rejection still stung. Part of him wanted to tuck his tail between his legs and run away again.

“I came home so suddenly because I was homesick. I woke up one morning and I just.. I just knew I needed to come home.” Running his fingers through his hair, Gus laughed quietly, blinking to look over at the other man. He probably thought he’d gone crazy, but now that he was talking he found he couldn’t stop. “So here I am, but it’s harder than I expected. I’m bloody good at dark arts and anything defensive, but teaching it? How do you do it so.. well?” Shrugging, Gus smiled softly at him. Best to leave out the part where everyone was mad at him for returning home, too.

****
Basil Foxwood

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Basil twisted his fingers nervously behind his back as Lissington closed and locked the door, shutting them in. He was glad of the action if this was trending where it might, and he was even more glad of the fact that there wasn’t a single portrait to eavesdrop on them if it came to it. They might have been strained, but they certainly weren’t stupid. Basil could never afford to be stupid, but especially not in his primary place of work and his sole source of happiness.

Listening carefully, the transfiguration professor couldn’t help as the red twinge on his cheeks darkened with Lissington’s comments. So easy to love, indeed. He frowned at the thought for a plethora of reasons but made no such comment. The high praise from Lissing as to his abilities softened him a little, despite the fact that he couldn’t quite meet the other’s gaze. They had spent so many nights in the library studying for their final N.E.W.T. with Professor Thompson; Basil could still remember Lissing’s frustration over the difference between a switching spell and a simply transfiguring something into something else entirely. Despite how elementary it was, it had still made the brunette smile. Clearing his throat awkwardly now, he refocused on the trend in conversation. Now Lissington was on about coming home. This was a topic that Basil had many emotions about, himself.

Finally a question came out of the whirlwind of a ride they’d both just been down and Basil let the silence linger as he thought about the best way to answer. Eventually, he just shrugged. “I’m not sure, really,” he replied honestly. “I suppose it started with a passion for continuing my own education and simply… evolved from there?” And it had, rather. Basil had been working alongside Thompson with research for years before the former professor decided to pass along the torch to him. “I’ve always had a fondness for children,” he continued, voice softening a bit. “So over time it became less about the passion I had for the subject, and more about what good it would do them to know. What good I could do, passing along even just one thing.”

Basil thought about his first few years and how disorganized he’d felt all the time. It was a lot to take on personal academic research and teach full-time. But he’d managed it, and over time learned to love it. “It gets easier too once you find the one or two star pupils that really share your passion for the subject. Miss Ida Chang was my first real milestone in that department.” Basil paused to chuckle at the memory. “She was a tough nut to crack too,” he teased. “She was hellbent on hating me, my subject, and life in general. But eventually, with much coaxing, I was able to draw her out and now she’s my right hand. That girl has a gift for transfiguration magic and she will do the world credit, if it gives her the chance. She’s even co-authored on at least one of my research publications. I have high hopes for her career, if she chooses to extend it past her debut.” He paused again, trying not to think too hard about that prospect. The end of the year was coming at them much too quickly for Basil’s comfort. He wouldn’t have minded keeping Miss Chang back another year, just so he didn’t have to loose the shining light that she brought with her every time she appeared at his doorframe.

“Anyway,” He continued, circling back from waxing poetic about Miss Chang to the topic at hand. “I think you just need to give it some time.” It hadn’t even been a full bloody two weeks yet! “I’m sure you’ll catch your stride soon and warm up to the role and the students to you." He felt the need to clap Lissington on the back or some such thing, but physical touch was still much too awkward for him to dare attempt it. Instead, Basil just offered the other a soft smile. He had every faith in Lissington's ability to be a great Defense Against the Dark Arts professor; whether or not it was comfortable for them however, remained to be seen.

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Gus Lissington

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Chuckling quietly, more to himself than to Foxwood, Gus could see why the students loved him; he’d always been patient (to a point, although sometimes frustrated when the Hufflepuff had done everything in his power to distract him because he simply wasn’t understanding the assignment.) He would make a great dad someday, although the thought made his heart ache. He knew all ofpart of him was still in love with him and probably always would be, but even Gus wasn’t selfish enough to rob him of a future he wanted. He would have to live vicariously through Fig, whenever she had her beau (fiance? Husband?) decided to have them. If he ever decided he was ready to face her wrath and grovel for forgiveness.

Then he was nodding, a smile touching his lips as he watched Basil’s face contort into something of fondness. Of course he’d been a star pupil and Professor Thompson had sought him out to carry on the torch - Gus would have done the same thing if he had been in the professor’s shoes too. “Those seventh years are something else, eh? I’m trying to teach them non-verbal but they’re claiming they’ve already learned the ‘boring’ spells. Like I’m going to teach them how to stupefy each other during their first lesson with me.” He couldn’t help but smile softly as he rolled his eyes; it’s not as if their previous professor had left him anything outside of an open position to slide into. He still needed to assess their skill level and reign them in, but seventeen year olds proved to be much harder to coax into paying attention than he’d initially thought. Though terrified of the first years, they wouldn’t step out of line.

Gus flicked his gaze over to the other professor before he laughed; it was a bit more boisterous than he thought it’d be, but Basil was right - it hadn’t been long and he was already doubting himself. That was something he hadn’t done much of the past few years, although perhaps if he did it more he’d also learn more self-preservation. He wasn’t worried about himself, he was long past that and what else could be worse than being stuck in a genie lamp for four months with no memory of it? Well, a lot of things, but it had at least become a home away from home. “I guess… What if something happens to one of them? It’s on me to teach them to protect themselves and the thought of something happening because I’m inadequate…”

Trailing off, Gus rubbed the back of his head; he hadn’t been expecting to unload everything on Foxwood, but it felt good to talk to someone who knew him. Fig would be slapping the back of his head telling him to suck it up because they both knew he fear was uncalled for. “At eighteen I felt wholly unprepared for a lot of things, and I owe a lot to my mentor for keeping me alive my first few months.” He licked his lips. “I guess I don’t want to be seen as a professor who failed.”

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Basil Foxwood

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Basil couldn’t help but laugh at the comment about the seventh years. He could absolutely see some of his N.E.W.T girls being a handful if they wanted to be. Especially Poppy. It was a good thing her specialty was Potions and she would, hopefully, leave well enough alone with Lissington. “Just be firm,” he advised. “And send Poppy Dashwood to me if she gives you any trouble. My cousin has grown into a handful over the years,” he muttered.

Softening, he listened to Lissington continue on about the guilt of what if something happened to them. Now there was something Basil could relate to. He guessed all of the staff here likely related to it in some capacity. “You are not inadequate,” he said sharply. Perhaps moreso than he’d meant to. Softening his tone again, Basil tried to play it off nonchalantly. “It is not your sole responsibility to teach them self defense. It is all our responsibilities, and theirs, to learn how to be sensible with magic. We can only do as much as we can and the rest will come to them in time.”

Stepping closer towards Lissington, Basil supposed he really ought to give the other some physical comfort. He awkwardly gave the red-head a soft pat on the back. It drove a spark through his fingers and he recoiled quickly. Static shock perhaps? There were legions more to be said on the topic, but he figured he’d bolstered the other’s confidence enough. At some point one just had to buck up and dive into the unexpected. Lissington was good at that. He would be just fine. Besides, Basil had every single faith in him.

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Gus Lissington

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