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I stood before Professor McGonagall's desk waiting for her to arrive. Five, ten, fifteen minutes had passed so I walk around the study. The room was rather small, a tidy desk sat before a tall window which overlooked the quidditch training grounds. Two chairs with lace doily's and comfy pillows looked toward a large fireplace, books placed on top the mantle and a built in bookshelf just beside it. Several picture frames were placed about, some holding paintings of landscapes, others photos of what must be family or friends. A self portrait of McGonagall herself rested on her desk.
"How narcissistic." I laughed to myself.
"Making ourself at home, are we?"
I didn't hear the door open. I turn toward the cross faced woman before me. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude." I said.
Ignoring my apology Professor McGonagall made her way to the fireplace, taking a seat in a chair and with her eyes she told me to sit in the other. "Now, do you mind telling me what happened?"
I took a deep breath and used the moment to decide what I was going to say. Do I tell her what really happened and expose my father of his lycanthropy? It could ruin him, he could lose his job, lose his good standing with his peers. That's something I couldn't do to him. No, that's something I wouldn't do.
"No, I can't."
My response clearly wasn't one that was expected. "And you are sure of that?" She said.
"Yes." I said firmly.
"If that is your final answer, you will have one week of detention starting tomorrow. You will scrub my classroom floors spotless before my first lesson of the day. Are there any questions?"
"No questions." I said.
"I'll be expecting you in my classroom at six am, sharp. I don't want to be kept from breakfast longer then need be."
"I'll be there." I said.
I left the office and started walking to charms. No, I don't. I am going to be late anyway, what would missing one class do? Even if I got detention, with Professor Flitwick it wouldn't be to bad. He'd probably have me just clean chalk boards.
I changed my direction, and turning a corner walk right into someone, "oh god! I'm sorry, I didn't think anyone would have been around now." I said.
The boy I collided with took several steps back and regained his composure. "Don't be! I was distracted with this." He said, raising the yellow and black tie held in his hand, "usually I have a friend tie it for me, I still haven't gotten it down yet."
"I can help!" I said, taking the tie from his hand. "So what's your name?"
"Wesley Gotcher, but you can call me Wes. What's yours?" He asked.
"Hailey Lupin." I said. I note his attire, his robe smells freshly cleaned and looks as though it's been ironed, the yellow interior of his robe pressed to proudly show the interior color, tying together with a badger patch stitched on the front. He is fairly neat, all except for his hair that is in need of a cut. Whisps of loose curls are pointing every which way and are falling down, almost completely covering his hazel eyes. "So hufflepuff? I haven't met anyone from your house yet."
