𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑃𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑀𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟 | 𝑁𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑒 𝐿𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑏𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑜𝑚

Chapter 2 - A Great Feast

With September first drawing nearer, Helena had begun to feel her first twinge of anxiety at the prospect of instructing a classroom of unfamiliar faces. The feeling made her legs turn to jelly and her stomach turn; in fact, she felt much like a child, expected to be off to her first day of school before she'd made friends or met the teachers. Most days were spent in her classroom preparing a class agenda, or working tirelessly to make the atmosphere down there as comfortable as possible. This meant taking on the seemingly impossible task of lightening up the interior of the dungeons--Severus Snape had done a perfectly good job of leaving his dreary mark on the place, even with another teacher having been there before her.

She was grateful, however, for the half-month's advance she'd had from McGonagall, as she was able to get much more work done without much of a disturbance from others. In fact, she rarely saw anybody during these seven days; the only times she really went upstairs was to nick a bit of food from the kitchens. There was no time to explore the castle for a bit or stroll the lovely grounds. She would save these activities for when classes were in full swing, when she'd planned enough ahead that she wouldn't be confined to her classroom or office all day long.

The day before the start-of-term feast, she finally felt satisfied with herself. She had been quite successful in siphoning away much of the slime that diseased the stone walls (foul smelling stuff that was), ridding the supplies cabinet of a boggart (that had been an unpleasant surprise), and had even taken to conjuring up a few scent-based potions to place around the room so as to chase away the odor that the bottom of the lake gave the place. McGonagall had even granted her permission to put some shag rugs down, a homey touch that Helena was worried she'd regret with the first spill any student was bound to have.

The morning of September the first dawned with a drizzle cascading over the grounds, much to Helena's dismay. She had found herself in the Great Hall with a shockingly gray-haired Professor Flitwick upon McGonagall's request. With the waves of each of their wands, out slid the house tables into place, their flags unfurling above them to mark each as their own. Helena had just finished setting up Gryffindor's table when McGonagall herself swept into the room.

"May I pull her aside for a moment?" She asked Professor Flitwick, who nodded approval. Curious, Helena joined her in a conference that felt private, despite the fact that they were only a few feet away from Flitwick, who was seeming to pretend to be busy as he moved his ear closer in their direction.

"What is it, Professor?"

"McGonagall, Ms. Borington, and it's nothing major. I've just come to tell you that you'll be assuming the role of Head of the Hufflepuff House, is all. It completely slipped my mind to let you know before this morning."

Helena felt as if her heart was blooming in vibrant color. "You're serious, Professor?"

"Does it look as though I am kidding?" McGonagall asked rhetorically, in a rather serious tone. Her voice dropped a bit. "We're lacking in Hufflepuffs on our staff. It's been a struggle since Pomona left. . ."

Helena furrowed her brow. She had not known that Professor Sprout would not be joining them for the school year. She wondered how long Sprout had been gone for.

"Anywho, I also must inform you that your owl arrived this morning. They're up in the owlery now, settling in."

Helena beamed. "Wonderful," she said with relief, picturing her dear Philo nestling in among the other owls and falling into a deep sleep after such a long flight. She had been expecting him to come by any day since her own arrival.

McGonagall bid her a farewell ("Until the feast, then") and disappeared, likely going to check that everything was in order with the kitchens. Helena and Flitwick wrapped up their tasks in the Great Hall, and then parted ways to each tend to their own things; Flitwick said something about needing to talk to Argus Filch, and Helena felt the need to ahead and start getting ready, despite that it was only just getting to be eleven in the morning.