September 7th, 1894 — Professor Griffith's office

This year, in this summer, it did not often rain; but raindrops, first soft and now pouring, had been falling for the last half hour. Samuel left the big window of his office and walked to the stone table. Stacks of paper resided on it, covering the circle that was engraved there. He moved some of them to the side, then he looked towards the door.

He felt something that could be anticipation, or it could be nervousness; it seemed to be on the move. Sitting and leaning back in the office chair, he closed his eyes for a second to let it subside. Despite the quieting of his body in relation to the space around him, something else was already in motion, he knew. He had set it in motion last week, or perhaps she had truly done so, one month ago, by walking into this room.

And now the time had come to take another turn together; to what end he was scarcely certain, but he had premonitions. They had followed him around all week — now there were footsteps at his door, and so he rose and made his way there: "Good evening, Themis. Please, come in."

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---Themis Lyra---

  

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Threadlog

She was as prepared as she could be. The first week of classes and as head of house had been both invigorating and exhausting, as expected. Her new crop of Gryffindors, a packed introductory class, and advising two clubs had given her few moments of peace this week. What moments she wasn't dedicating to her students, she had committed to research. When not with students, Themis was in the library. It might shock students to see a professor with her head over a book taking furious notes, but a few students had joined her at her preferred table. Now, Themis' research time had become tutoring, but she considered this one more reason to be grateful for this mysterious project. 'Mysterious' is the best word she had.

Themis had turned a scholar's eye to every alchemical text she found in the library. Thankfully, her knowledge of other subjects let her skim over most of the primers and move on to the basics of theory. Intuition and Samuel's careful guidance had kept them safe in their first experiment, but Themis would not leave such a thing to him again. With all its unknowns, she committed to this adventure and joined without hesitation. She would not be any more of a liability than her inexperience required.

They had meals together in the past week and passed in the corridors, but that was the extent of their interactions. After they parted the night of his party, she was left with a flurry of confusion over her actions and Samuel's. She had meant her words; she didn't seek his protection, but she would seek his guidance. She was walking blindly into this unknown and did so on faith. May he prove worthy of it.

Whatever her concern, her heart rate steadied when he welcomed her into his office. "Good evening; I am glad to see you've survived the first week." She offered with a smile, remembering her first year teaching and looking far more frazzled than Samuel did tonight.

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Lou made magic!

Thread Log

Stepping aside to let her come in, he answered: "Of the teachers in Hogwarts, I am hardly the busiest. I was worried I might grow bored with so few classes to occupy my time, but now," he shot a smile to her, "I think I shall not be, at all." And while they walked through the classroom to his office, he inquired about her week: "How were your first few days? You must certainly have your hands full. You are head of house for Gryffindor, are you not?"

The arrival of Themis Lyra back into his office converted the remnants of nervousness to a faintly buzzing energy; Samuel felt quite good now. At the stone table, a second chair stood ready for her, and he invited her to sit. Samuel busied himself with preparing tea for them — two sugars, no cream for her; no sugar and a drop of milk for him. Outside, rain was still falling. The smell of the earth wafted up from the castle grounds. He put the teacups down in front of them and sat next to her. There were a few things of note on the table; for one, the stacks of paper. Also, multiple leather-bound books. Runes adorned their covers — warding glyphs. These were not intended to be accessible by just anyone.

"I am glad you are here," said Samuel. "All week I have been thinking about how best to proceed. I intend to be true to the promise I gave you. We shall try to push forward at the fastest pace we can manage." She had not meant it so, but her demands of him were really a gift — rarely ever did someone encourage him to step off the brakes. People generally asked him to slow down and temper his expectations, if he ever let them close enough for such requests at all. There were reasons he was very solitary, even for his line of work.

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Threadlog

She chuckled at the idea of being bored at Hogwarts. She said nothing, but her shoulders relaxed as they walked, knowing that he was settling in well, a weight on her she hadn't realized she carried. She cared for the well-being of all of her colleagues, but for whatever reason, it was Samuel she checked on. "The first week was as eventful as anticipated and, yes, for some reason, I am now trusted with the safekeeping of all of Gryffindor. I am certain I will learn whole new ways that children can be destructive as a result. Gryffindor isn't the quietest of houses." It was something that anyone coming out of Hogwarts could tell you, but as an insider, the rough and tumble of Gryffindor house had been home.

She took the seat he offered her, her own anticipation growing to fever pitch now that she was back in his office. Her body also remembered this place, a faint buzzing was the best she could describe it, the strange vibration that started as she read what she could of the transmutation circle. She took the tea he offered gratefully, the smell of wet earth mingling with the familiar warmth of the tea leaves. She allowed herself a single sip before turning her attention fully to him and the documents before her. She kept her hands in her lap like a child in the shops, wanting to examine the books but knowing better than to upset the layout before her.

She gave him a warm, pleased smile. The hint of challenge bright in her eyes. "I would have it no other way. Please, continue." Her need to know overriding the sensible request to ask for a plan. Themis wasn't here to be coddled.

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Lou made magic!

Thread Log

For some reason— Headmaster Black had made a fairly obvious choice, thought Samuel. From the headstrong prefect to the head of the house, there was to him a trajectory without surprise. Gryffindor was so important to her, was it not? Still, there was some doubt she had of herself; it was not the first time Themis said something like that. He did not comment.

At the table, he pulled over one of the binders to them and opened it. He flipped through a few pages. Some of them could be folded out to show the entirety of the circles and equations they held. All of them were covered by the neat and narrow script of his handwriting. Sketches of different things lay in between: objects, complex runes, sometimes of things that did not really seem to belong there — figures and faces and landscapes.
"In these binders is the collection of my work. It is the most valuable thing I keep in these rooms. Basic transmutation circles you can find in textbooks, but every Alchemist worth something in the field writes their own. And they protect them with the utmost jealousy."
He found the pages he had been looking for and took it out of the binder. "Here. This is the circle I engraved into this table. We will go over it briefly."
With the paper between them, he started to explain how to make sense of it all. Themis, it seemed, had done some research of her own. That pleased him immensely. Samuel hoped that she would see the beauty in it; how they were universes with their own laws of nature. Every rune a planet, every line an orbit. The two-dimensional, static-looking circle represented a system where things were in motion and where every aspect was related. He had to excert some effort to keep it short and concise.

After explaining the systematics of the equation, he stood up and put aside everything that lay on top of the engraving on the table.
Instead of copper, he set a piece of steel in the middle. This would be less easy to bend to her wishes; it required more energy, more concentration.
"Let us pick up right where we left it, last time. Please, at your discretion, place your hands and begin. We are aiming for two alterations."
He waited to see how she would place her hands, ready to correct them, if need be. Samuel himself had taken his place opposite of Themis. Just like they had done last time.
"Themis", he said suddenly. "I will push for you to progress quickly. I will demand as much of you as I would of myself. Tell me, when you start to feel unwell, will you? It wont make me think you incapable."
This was a demand of some hypocrisy. He had struggled with that himself, still did. Pride was perhaps a trait they had in common.

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Threadlog

He didn’t need to explain the importance of his tomes. She let her finger brush the cover and various pages with reverence. This was the culmination of his work, his ambitious ideas, and bold plans for examining the micro-universe he could summon into being. She also jealously guarded her equations and observations, her theoretical work living firmly in her notes and mind. She did not take this lightly, did not take him and his inner thoughts lightly.

She set to memorizing what she could, grateful she’d started studying on her own. To her delight, she could follow him, make sense of the cosmos on parchment, and see the reflection of her beloved stars. By the time he gave her instructions, she could imagine worlds built from that steel. She was eager to test herself.

Her ‘discretion’ was the sliver of a second for her to rise and place her hands. As soon as she contacted the table, she relaxed her magic that had felt tight and confined in her body now flowing freely. The circle sprang to life and she felt where magic and metal combined. He was right; there was resistance to her will now, not overly strong but palpable. The resistance teased her, dared her to push through. Naturally, she did. The movement enraptured Themis, engrossed in her work until Samuel broke through.
The smile on her face invited danger, exploration. “Then push me, Samuel.” It shouldn’t have sounded like a challenge, but she couldn’t resist.

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Lou made magic!

Thread Log

Samuel now had to pretend that this sort of posturing was not working on him; it was working. He could hardly keep himself from smiling, his dark eyes narrow with delight. She had already bent the shape of the metal. It was time to move to a more complex configuration.

"Sharpen it, then. See if you can fashion it to a blade." This involved a much more complex interaction than the simple morphing of shapes or changing of aggregate states; she had to decrease the surface area of one part of the steel while shifting the mass towards another. He watched her, ready to count how many steps it would take her to arrive there. Two, if she was exceptional. Four were to be expected.

His hands were placed next to hers, his thumbs brushing up against the side of her palms ever so slightly, enough for him to feel it—her magic was projected out into the space between them again, already stronger than last time. She had drawn it out easily and impatiently. Its presence seemed to cool the room down; he almost felt like he might shiver. Samuel supplied a tiny sliver of his own power, let it brand against the structure she had drawn up, listening to the information that reverberation gave him. She might feel it, she might not. Already, the pressure inside of the circle was rising quickly. That meant she was keeping the seals balanced very well, allowing her to work with high efficiency. It also meant they were increasing the risk for a recoil in sharp increments. How exciting. He was not at all willing to call her back, yet. She had to learn the measure of her force one way or another.

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   Themis Lyra

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Threadlog

She raised her eyebrows in a challenge, even as she smirked. Apparently, she had a secondary goal of getting a laugh out of this man tonight. She would also settle for an 'impressed look of awe.' He quickly set her back to her primary task, not allowing her to forget which of them was the master in this realm.

The greatest danger to her success was overthinking. She understood the concept of swordsmithing, but it wasn't something she would learn at school. Still, she knew the objective and could envision the result. Vision seemed key to the process. Themis could imagine the result, but as he taught her, in her circle, she wrote the laws. If she followed her intuition, she would see her answers.

She could see the steel from all angles with a thought, the piece rotating as she willed. She let her magic trace what her fingers could not and could still feel the metal. She couldn't articulate the experience, but where the copper had naturally frozen for her, there was a hesitation now. Her magic didn't feel warm enough to achieve her objective. Something told her she could brute force it into submission, somehow break the bonds of elements to fashion it to her will, but it felt crude.

She took her time and examined the piece before committing to an action. Whether it was the circle, her magic, or the slight brush of Samuel's hands bracketing hers, Themis had a direction while lacking a path. She wasn't sure if what she intended was possible or wise, but the risk seemed low. The worst she thought of, in her rapid mental calculation, was him teasing or scolding her for some breach in alchemy etiquette she hadn't learned. So why not?

Her magic was sharp but lacked heat, at least at her current level of understanding. Samuel's did not. She could feel him along her magic, brushing the surface like his hand did hers. She reached for it and invited it to join her. She envisioned his heat and pressure drawing out the metal, her own sharp magic shaving away at the surface. She pictured the steel bar narrowing as it stretched, the edges sharp enough to cut. She pictured many things, but whether this would work or Samuel was laughing at her remained to be seen.

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   Samuel Griffith

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Lou made magic!

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Samuel stood at easy watchfulness and observed the piece of metal levitate and turn idly in the air. Themis was thinking; she was not yet acting. How he saw it, she had two avenues, at least at this level of skill: go the traditional route of shaping first, and then she would have to figure out the particular process of reduction to the point of sharpness. That was tricky, because matter did not like to reduce without having a place to go. Or she could force it by splitting the piece of metal by brute force, and creating sharpness by breaking the surface at a sharp angle. That he thought crude. But what was crudeness, if not effective?

Suddenly feeling something else entirely, he looked down at their hands with an expression of confusion. A vacuum was opening up at the entrypoints into the circle. But it was no disturbance—it was intentional; it was exactly in balance between the left and right side. It was pulling at him. In fact, it had already redirected the minuscule flow of magic he was supplying but had kept on the outside of her structure. A very strange sensation took hold of him: something cold spread through the veins and channels in his arms towards his chest, like tendrils reaching for the coil of his magical power, that resided contracted and dense in his left side. Being invaded in such a way, he reacted with an actual shiver. Samuel knew not if he should laugh or be offended or frightened or amazed. Within a split second, he made a decision, or rather, it was made for him by his body. His magic expanded through his arms into the circle in an instant. In the same moment, he knew what a folly this was. His muscles tightened painfully, as he tried to wrestle back control over himself.

The transmutational structure flickered. This was very different from last time, where he had displaced her magic while taking over. She was not abandoning the circle to be displaced; Themis was still very much the one balancing and supplying it, and now he had joined her, pouring into the open space inside without direction and restraint. The pressure shot up massively; his ears hurt from it. The piece of steel spontaneously turned glowing hot and transformed into a liquid orb, spinning around itself at increasing speed. Samuel's own connection to all of this was very tenuous. The surface area of their skin that was in contact was much too small for this amount of energy.

"I—", he tried to steady himself. Suddenly he was frightened she might let go and blow them both to smithereens with the recoil. The sensation of her magic all around him took his breath away; it was as if a cage of light and ice was closing in on him from all sides. If it was like this for him, who knew what this would feel like for Themis?
"I'm repositioning my hands. Head down and hold!"
He moved his hands on top of hers, and in the instant their skin broke contact, the structure destabilized, thankfully towards the upper part of it. Something moved through the air above their heads. He heard things fall and shatter somewhere in his office, probably up in the gallery. Bizarrely, shards of ice had formed where the magic had escaped the circle and now rained down on them. However, he could not pay it much mind; Now that he had his hands properly on the entrypoints, he closed the gap and got to work on getting things stable.

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   Themis Lyra

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Threadlog

For a moment, she was overwhelmed by the difference in sensation. There was no question where he began and she ended, the feel of him distracting her from her objective briefly. The steel wasn’t nearly as intoxicating as the steady stream of magic she knew as Samuel. She could only marvel and wonder how many different signatures of magic existed. Was it unique to each witch or wizard? Was he innately this strong? And why did it entice her so when it was the polar opposite of what she felt in her skin?

Her focus had veered to the quality of his magic, and she paid no attention to the quantity. By the time she realized, it was too late. Her exploration was going perfectly until it wasn’t. For a brief second, they were in balance, his magic matching hers in a way that changed the temperature around her. And then he was everywhere. Their magic went from harmonious to hostile, the sharp edge to her power the most prevalent feeling. She felt him jerk back, felt it reverberating through the sheer amount of energy they were pouring into the transmutation. By the time he was wrestling with his power, she was unsure how to balance the circle.

Her ears popped, her chest felt too heavy, her body registered that it was underwater and running out of air. It was the most familiar sensation her body could cling to. Fighting the scream in her mind that warned her to run, to pull away, Themis grit her teeth and leaned all her body weight into her hands, forcing herself to stand firm. She had erred, but she would right this. She had to. She was shivering even as sweat began beading at her temples. When Samuel broke from her, the world broke.

Her ears were ringing, for a moment, she was blinded by the light of her own magic. The sharp edge of her magic reacted to his withdrawal, turning on its source. Still, she kept her head bowed and held. She could hear a cacophony of sound: something like breaking glass and heavy thudding around her. She felt but could not see the small cuts forming on her face and hands as she fought for balance. It didn’t matter, her only focus was protecting them both from her ignorance.

When his hands closed the loop again and joined her, the pressure in the room shifted, Themis suddenly nauseous at the inversion. She didn’t notice the tears pouring from her eyes; ignored the screaming in her limbs. She could not fail. It felt like a month, but the pressure began to equalize, the spinning steel seeming to mock her as it now lazily spun before her. It angered her, an inanimate object had her absolutely livid and, without thought, she pushed. She wasn’t sure how she had done it, but that metal that was meant to slowly extend flattened under the weight of her displeasure, the steel suddenly razor thin on one side. Shocked, but unclear how on earth to proceed, she blinked hard, doing her best to ignore the fall of tears and droplets of blood now gathering on hands and cheeks. She didn’t look at him; she couldn’t. Shame burned hot and bright in her chest, the feeling horrible, but nothing like what she was sure she had just put Samuel through. All she dared ask was, “Are you with me?”

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   Samuel Griffith

It had been long since Samuel felt that he was moving beyond the boundaries of what he thought achievable for him in transmutation. With his eyes closed, he felt his new environment take form—or rather it was not the environment that was new. It was his placement in it. Instead of upholding the transmutation circle, he was moving freely within its borders, He bounded tentatively against the sharp lines all around him and found that they gave him orientation and direction. It was very strange to be involved in this system without having to spend all of his strength on creating it. This changed everything. Yet his amazement could not last long; he was called back by feeling the metal sharpen under a sudden increase in tension. He opened his eyes; the sensations of his body came rushing back—the sweat running down his back, the way his heart lurched forward. His system strained under the amount of magic that he had released; That he now desperately needed to keep under control.

Then he looked at Themis and something else entirely constricted tightly within him. Tears were streaming down her face. They were mixing with blood from several little cuts and drew diluted streaks on her skin. What had he done? He noticed now that he was leaning so hard on her hands that it must hurt her. He eased up, carefully entwining their fingers instead, both to keep her anchored on the table but also to give her something to tell her that he was here and that they would make it through—his voice he seemed to have momentarily misplaced.

"I am with you. We are going to finish this and then we close down this transmutation," he finally managed to say. If he let her drop now, would it do any good? He had made a promise. With a horrible twinge of guilt that he directed his gaze away from her and focused on the piece of steel. It yielded so easily to him that it startled him. It formed into a knife blade shape in an instant. Not able to hold himself back, he tried something else. The blade shuddered in the air, then it duplicated. This was a very difficult transmutation, yet with his mind free of the burden of controlling the circle, all he needed to do was reach for it.

Now he had to somehow get them out of this. "I am going to start dissolving it from the place where it broke earlier. Please, pull back very slowly while I do so. It might take a few minutes."

This was a very crude way to do it but he had no choice. Despite his best effort, the moment he started dissolving, he felt a sharp pressure drop. The books and teacups fell off the table and shattered as if swept away by an invisible hand. Samuel felt dizzy, but he continued. Time seemed to stretch endlessly. When it was done and the two knife blades descended from the air and the runes stopped glowing, he forced his protesting body to undertake the two steps that it would need to bring him to the other side of the table. He was sure he would be fast enough to catch her, should she need it. He felt that he might need to catch her emotionally too, from the ledge he had dropped her off for this experiment by failing to stop himself from jumping onto the first impulse he had felt when she had called on his magic. He prayed he would be adequate for this. As self-assured as he was about his other abilities, at this moment he felt his confidence falter.

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   Themis Lyra

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Threadlog

She nodded, it was all she could give him as she clung tight to the tenuous control she now had over her magic. An involuntary sob escaped her as his fingers tangled with hers. For a sliver of a moment, she allowed this simple comfort to buoy her. It was a permissible thing, until she considered it was her foolish attempt that had endangered them to begin with. That failure cut deeper than her magic.

Amid her war of self-loathing, she heard his voice. She could not fail him now. Her own curiosity and ambitions led them here and he had upheld his end of the bargain. He had admitted her into his world and work; she jeopardized it. He had flattered her when he said she would be teaching him the science of the circle. The only thing she had taught him was that her bravado and desire to learn could prove deadly. She had promised to hold her own and now he was literally holding her hands. This failure was unacceptable. She owed him a safe escape, at least.

She felt something else shift in the circle, shift enough she had to see for herself. What she saw sent a different sort of shiver through her magic. What required such rage for her to accomplish seemed simple to him, even in this state. What she saw before her was remarkable. He was remarkable. And it fueled her, forced a deeper dive into her endurance. Her muscles burned, but she felt her heart accelerate. “Take your time.” She ground out, her wits still intact.

She flinched when the room seemed to snap back into focus, her ears popping and her lungs burning. She felt her knees quaking and shifted her weight into her arms to keep herself upright. Her eyes were still on the steel blades. She was transfixed until he moved, and gravity seemed to factor into reality again.

She turned to him, or tried, before her legs buckled like she was new to walking. She caught herself on his arm, almost too tired to be mortified by her fragile appearance. “Tell me you’re alright,” She did look then, examining for signs of injury. “And how did you manage that? Samuel, that was,” Whatever she was going to say became secondary to the realization that she was finished standing for the moment, the room spinning. “Floor, please.” If he didn’t assist her, gravity would.

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   Samuel Griffith

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Lou made magic!

Thread Log

"I am quite alright," said Samuel. When she caught onto his arm, he was already reaching for her to hold her up. In truth, he was not all that well. He must have put a much larger amount of energy into the transmutation than he anticipated. Not being able to feed it into the lines and runes of the circle but into the open space had thrown him off. But he had done worse to himself in the past—much worse. Except for a few minor cuts, he was uninjured. His body was quickly heating up now. He felt the burning in his head and core and at the same time the sensation of his limbs going cold. Every person reacted differently to these sorts of things, and he tended to get a sharp spike in temperature when he overtaxed his system, but it would resolve itself soon, he knew.

"The floor it is," Samuel said and pulled her closer to help her down. He kneeled down behind her and leaned her back against him, too tired to locate his wand and summon any kind of furniture. He was not sorry to be down here. It gave him a chance to collect himself. Around them, papers were strewn about the stone floor. The broken teacups lay not far off, shattered to pieces. Samuel wished his heart would settle, but it did not. He wished that she would not feel how hard it beat, but resting against his chest, she might. He held on to her shoulders. There was a sharp awareness in him of the sensation of her leaning against him. Themis felt fragile to him in this moment, and he had to admit that he was scared how much this had taken out of her. But he was also elated. His thoughts pulled him back through the experience he just had. They had achieved a paired transmutation, no doubt. Shakily, but in the end, successfully. That was incredible. He needed to say something to put this into context for Themis, but he was not ready to order his thoughts enough to explain anything in the way he ought to.

"Tell me how you are," he said instead, for he could not see her face from where he was. "Do you want to lay down? I'd rather not put you on the floor completely because of the shards, but I can bring you someplace else."

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   Themis Lyra

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Threadlog

She was not alright. Her heart was slamming against her ribs and she had a reminder of one of her least pleasant childhood memories. Hiking the woods on the edge of her childhood home, Themis came across a rabbit that caught its neck in a snare. She remembered the creature’s last moments, the way its heart heaved its whole body at the side of the trail. The creature’s eyes had been so wide, so empty, until Themis crept closer. Seeing herself reflected in the rabbit’s eyes as the creature stopped struggling haunted her for weeks. She felt like that rabbit now, she thought. And it made her laugh. It was not a sound of amusement.

She reached her hand to cover his and she held tight. It was the only part of her not trembling. He was a better man than the moment required. It made the shame burning in her face all the hotter.

“I am a fool. And I nearly killed you. I am so sorry, Samuel. I am so sorry.” She had no right to need his support at this moment, but she gave a groan of annoyance as she lost the battle to hold herself up. She slumped against him, mortified, but resigned to deserving this, even as her pride protested. “I flew too close to the bloody sun.” She absolutely did not huff like a child.

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   Samuel Griffith

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Lou made magic!

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"Nontheless, we are alive. My heart is beating, I am quite certain of it," he smiled weakly, even though she could not see it. His eyes felt heavy and he closed them for a moment, glad to be safe from her gaze, as he tried to choose the right words. He felt that he had to admit his role in this.

"I have to say that I did not expect what happened and have never seen anyone do it like you did. But when you called for my magic, I followed the very first impulse and supplied it. But the natural resistance you feel when keeping up the circle was gone, it just went right into the open space inside, instead of into the structure. Therefore, I gave way too much." Here he paused for a second. The next words he wanted to say seemed to travel through a great deal of resistance, before they arrived in the space between them.

"It was a lapse in my control that should not have happened. It is not your fault. It is I who should have known better."

He sat for a moment and listened to the blood rushing in his ears. His mouth was dry. He did not really know if he felt this bad because of exhaustion or because he had to admit to the extent of his failure to keep them safe. This had not been safe at all; They could have died, certainly.

"However, for a moment there we achieved a paired transmutation, with both of us in balance enough to finish the task. That is exceedingly rare. There are only a handful of instances in the known history of Alchemy. I tried this once in my youth and it went so horribly that I put it out of my head to ever attempt it again."

In telling this, a face emerged from his memories that he had so far dutifully avoided. Gone were the days where it haunted him through crowds and the moments between sleep and being awake. He wanted to let it rest.

"Shall we try to go somewhere more comfortable?" he asked.

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   Themis Lyra

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Threadlog

She was grateful he couldn’t see her face at this angle, as mortifying as it was, a few more tears leaked from her eyes when he verbally confirmed his safety. She wasn’t sure if she could feel his heartbeat through the layers between them or if her own was still running so wild, it beat for them both.

She listened intently, hoping to gain insight into her errors, to learn how to protect them should he ever allow her an opportunity to try again. “Now I know you flatter.” She scolded, when he gave her the opportunity to interject. There was no possible way she had done something of note and certainly nothing novel. How could she? This was only her second attempt at transmutation. She was running on instinct and impulses.

She was silent after he admitted fault. Her pride could not square it with her vision of reality. She was the one that reached for him, pulled his magic in. Had he truly had control or was this a matter of absolution? It changed her feel on the matter some, but not in the way he most likely intended. She was not angry, if the result had been an honest expression of his magic. What scared her to her core was the matter of choice.

Before he could continue, she had to know. “You say I called and you supplied. Did you have a choice or did I,” Merlin, she could taste the bile as she fought to ask. “Did I force you to act?” It was the heart of the matter, she realized. Did she harm him in ways beyond the physical? As he’d shown her, magic was so individual and inherent. To have it commanded by another, without your consent? What had she done?

Samuel continued on, praised her as if something was accomplished. ‘Baffled’ was the polite word for the combination of confusion, exhaustion, and skepticism she currently held. She had no rage for him, no anger at their state. If, somehow, he had control amidst that magical whirlwind of pain, she would not doubt him. Except, she did. She doubted that she was free from blame in this.

“You are calling that a success? I redecorated your office, Samuel. I nearly used us as paint.” She managed that amount of incredulous observation. Her own concerns ebbed when she heard the unspoken words behind his addition. What they had done was extraordinary, but if that was true, what in the hell was wrong with his peers? Something had gone wrong when Samuel tried this in the past and the result was unfortunate. She would not press him for details.

She would not push, but her hand locked tighter around his as she risked a look over her shoulder. She nodded, not certain how he intended to relocate them, considering she was certain her legs still were not interested in her direction.

”Please. I can call for food and Wiggenweld from the house elves.” Themis didn’t hesitate before calling for Tilly. Themis had met the house elf her second year of Hogwarts when exploring the dungeons. She’d developed a bit of report with the she-elf, had been curious about her and her time at Hogwarts. Themis would like to think they were friendly. When she returned to the castle as an adult, she had sought the elf out, thrilled to know she was still at the school and that Themis had been remembered for her kindness.

It was this kindness and discretion she asked for now, as she summoned the elf. Tilly had made quite a fuss over the scene she arrived at, but Themis assured her of both of their safety, thanked the elf when she banished the shattered glass. Themis requested the simple healing draughts, a meal, and one of the bottles of French wine she had in reserve be brought to them. The tray, as well as an abundance of unexpected sweets (Themis’ favorite), and a bowl of steaming water and clothes appeared in Samuel’s rooms before witch or wizard were able to move.

With great care, she extracted herself from his hold, suddenly uncomfortable with the distance between them. She reached for his hand as she rose, firmly ignoring the amount of effort it took to get to her feet. When they had both made it safely to his private rooms, Themis grabbed and downed a healing potion before sinking into a seat. If she had difficulty releasing his hand, she chose to ignore it. She slid a potion his direction and, quickly, reached for a cloth and the warm water. ”Come here, I’ve made a mess of you.” It was an understatement, but the least she could do, was see to his welfare.

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   Samuel Griffith

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Lou made magic!

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