July, 24th. 1892

Basil had seen the outcome of the dueling tournament that afternoon. He'd watched, with bated breath, as every spell whipped just nearly past or through Augustus Lissington and it had taken everything in him to keep his features schooled. The whole experience had been an Ordeal, one he hadn't wanted to undertake at all. If it hadn't been for Atticus and his incessant pestering to come along and watch their cousin, Basil wouldn't have bothered to go at all. In the end, Anthony had been too late to register anyway and neither of them had bothered to inform him about it! Instead, Basil'd had to suffer all through the event with the both of them.

The brunette would be remiss if he didn't admit, at least to himself, that it hadn't been a terrible time. He supposed he liked Anthony, as far as rakish goofballs went, and Atticus hadn't been overbearing about... well anything. (He always seemed more tolerable around Anthony.) Regardless- that was neither here nor there. The purpose of his pulling a piece of parchment and creasing it between his fingers, pensively, was Lissington's match. He knew the other had taken it to heart. It had only been a fleeting, momentary expression that had crossed the red-head's face but even from his place in the audience Basil had seen it, and registered it. He knew Lissing better than he knew his own brother sometimes. He had to send something. Even if it was a perfunctory-seeming effort.

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Lissing,

Your display this afternoon was excellent.

Excellent job this afternoon. Too bad Mink's didn't think to hurl a memory charm, eh? We've gotten pretty good at blocking those.

Lucky there were no Hinkypunks on the rise.

You're a real asset to the program. Hogwarts is lucky to have you.

Drinks next week?

ta
cheers,
B. Foxwood

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Gus Lissington

  

He didn’t know what to think of the letter. An asset to the program? He wasn't entirely sure what that meant, or why Basil had sat down and written to him to begin with. Not only had the ministry official seen how terrible he was, but Basil must have as well. Who else? The entire audience had to know he wasn't good enough to be at Hogwarts. Gus wasn’t cut out to be a professor - he’d had a hard enough time for a semester. How the hell was he going to last a whole year? Someone was going to get killed one day because he was incapable of teaching. How many others saw it too? Surely they’d fire him before too long. He’d already decided he wasn’t going back to Hogwarts. He’d penned two letters: one to Headmaster Black to put in his resignation, the other begging for his old job back. Gus would even take desk duty to get his foot back in the door.

He’d told Fig of his plans, and she hadn’t been happy with him. They'd fought over the letters and she'd ripped one while yelling at him that she wanted her old brother back.

“Who are you? Because the Gus I know doesn’t have this self doubt and certainly doesn’t run from his problems. I don’t like this new… you. He's not my brother.”

Was that what this was? Running from his problems? Hogwarts wasn’t one. It was simply him not being good enough and being mature enough to accept it. The students deserve someone better than him - and well, that was going to be just about anyone else. Gus had failed them last year, failed for others to see he had potential in being a professor who’d make a difference, and he was saving them from having a failure of a professor for this school year.

Without reading the letter again, Gus crumpled it into a ball and tossed it to the ground. Then he sighed and laid back in bed. He wished Basil would just give up on him already. They were in the weird state of friends but not friends. Basil's opinion mattered more than it should and he hated the idea of leaving him without explaining himself this time. Maybe he'd pen him a letter to turn down the drinks and tell him of his decision later. Gus wasn't ready to put his thoughts into words. He couldn't - wouldn't - face him. He was tired of explaining himself, but if anyone deserved to not be left high and dry searching for answers, it was Basil.

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Basil Foxwood

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