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Location: Hogwarts Castle Grounds
Time of day: Friday; Late night hours
Interactions: Argus Filch - NPC
Adelaide Rosier - @Nemopedia
***
"Dosage will be per usual, and I will make sure I have a few more doses prepared and available." Acknowledging the directions, Filch grabbed the vial impatiently, but not without remembering his manners, even though they were mumbled out along the way. "Yes. Yes, thank you, professor." It was rare to receive a pleasantry from the old man, and Virgil felt no need to nitpick.
"You are very welcome, mister Filch. I am happy to help," Virgil responded politely, offering the caretaker to pass first towards the door, which Filch was quick to accept. Once outside, the man was briefly set back because he no longer found himself in the dungeons but on the third floor's corridor, freshly out of a broom closet. Having a widely recognized negative opinion on all kinds of shenanigans except for those he grew accustomed to, Argus once again frowned at Virgil. On the other hand, Virgil expected it and responded as soon as he stepped through the door himself. "I assure you it is only a light commodity. A shortcut, if you will."
"It's always about commodities and shortcuts with you lot," Argus grumbled once again as he walked away. When the man was at a distance, professor Hildegard reached towards the closet door, having every intention to retreat for the night until his ear twitched in the direction of muffed sounds coming from down the hall.
They indeed wasted no time. Classes were yet to start, and some youngsters clearly already had half a mind to drive the old caretaker insane. Well. It was better him than Filch walking into that classroom in any way.
The Charms classroom door was partially opened. Notable footsteps paraded around, stopping and moving again every once in a while. His own steps were quiet as he approached the door and stepped in, looking for the jester. Instead, he found a familiar face moving between the benches. Except, she no longer had anything else to learn in them.
"Remind me, miss Rosier," professor Hildegard spoke up after letting her have a moment of solitude, "How long was the Charms Club of your interest again? A month, was it," he jested. Discussing her on-an-off relationship with extracurricular activities and clubs became almost an everyday thing once he became the Head of Ravenclaw. A significant amount of times, he would have been stopped in a hallway by students requesting miss Rosier to rejoin. Although there were plenty of things he could do, persuading miss Rosier always presented a challenge.
"Nothing much has changed, I'm afraid," Virgil proceeded as he walked in, referring to the classroom that possibly looked precisely the same as it did years ago. "Wizards' need for predictability is both admirable and disappointing at the same time."
Time of day: Friday; Late night hours
Interactions: Argus Filch - NPC
Adelaide Rosier - @Nemopedia
The flutter of heavy black wings sliced through the air just over Hagrid's Cottage. Crows and some jackdaws quickly emerged out of the Pumpin Patch and disappeared into the forest. Once their displeased gawks vanished among the trees, the grounds fell silent. Save for rhythmic snores coming out of the half-giant's home, barely audible in the heights.
Crossing the distance across the grassy plain, he landed at the beginning of the old wooden bridge and shook off the remainings of the dew from the back. With hours away from the dawn, he enjoyed some peace and quiet, crimson eyes vigilantly scanning the visible grounds.
He looked away only when a pair of slow footsteps approached, squinted face studying him for a moment before speaking up.
"Thought it'd be you," concluded Argus Filch, the man that somehow always knew how to sniff the right people out when he needed them. The raven observed the man for a moment, and then Mrs. Norris, cozily placed into his arms, eyes fixated.
Making peace with the fact that his venturing has been moved aside for whatever Filch needed him for, the raven landed onto the bridge and morphed. Black feathers were quickly replaced with clothes, and the long tail elongated and thinned out, creating a river of dark locks. Neither the man nor the cat flinched. Instead, they both seemed unimpressed.
"Good evening, mister Filch. Having a calm night, I hope," Virgil greeted in the usual polite manner, adjusting the herb pouch on his side.
"I haven't had a calm night since I was born. I ain't planning to start now," came out as grumpily as expected from Argus Filch and treating him with an elusive chuckle from the professor.
"I see. Well. Who am I to tell you otherwise?" Virgil responded light-heartedly, and it seemed that it was of Filch's liking as he wasted no time to nod in agreement. Virgil was aware of the man's eyes still resting on him even while he was busy charming his hair into a neat bunch and rolling his sleeves down per his own professional code. Even so, he allowed the man to speak first.
"You're in a good mood, professor," the man pointed out, stroking Mrs. Norris in the process. "Good hunt?" It seemed that the thought of it alone managed to amuse Filch as he finally cracked a smug smirk, expecting the answer that he would approve of. Virgil hesitated, but it did nothing to deter the man from the topic.
"It was quite alright. Thank you for asking," he worked his way around the initial mental setback. "I have picked up a few lovely herbal specimens on my way back as well." Argus always knew, on schedule, when the resident vampire would leave and then come back and what he would be doing in the process. With years it became less unnerving, and Virgil never blamed the man for his curiosity, as morbid as it was. However, the feeling of being an impostor would always find its way back with every confirmation of his habits. As expected, the man was visibly pleased with the answer, but the unfortunate thing was that it further opened up the topic.
"What was it this time, eh? A deer? Muntjac? Bugbear?" The latter was added with a dose of conspiracy. The plain peculiarity of a suggestion snapped Virgil out of his initial confusion, and he resumed with a smirk. "Ah, if I told you, you'd likely be disappointed. I'd like to leave that to the imagination. If you don't mind." Naturally, the smug smirk disappeared quickly after, but even so, Filch was content. He squinted once more inquisitorially before dropping the subject altogether with a simple "Aye. Suit yourself."
Happy to move further from the discussion at hand, Virgil used the pause to keep the words flowing with another. "But I am sure you did not come all the way here to discuss my venture," he noted. "How may I be of service?"
Filch's eyes darted towards his cat once he remembered the initial reason for finding professor Hildegard. "Right. Aye. Mrs. Norris is slowing down again, professor," he answered solemnly. "As it is now, she can hardly walk a few steps before giving up." The tone of Argus's voice became notably coated with concern. "She needs that mixture of yours. It is the only thing that helps."
It is the only thing that keeps her alive, actually...
But Argus Filch was certainly not there for a harsh reality of cats not being meant to live as long as their masters; he was there to make sure it happened. And while otherwise a rejectable request, Virgil initially agreed to humor the man in the light of two very compelling arguments: The cat - although ancient - was otherwise healthy, and Argus - otherwise a resident grouch - was otherwise lonely. It seemed like a justified generosity, and he was yet to find a solid argument for denying such generosity to the old grump.
Taking a brief look at the cat, Virgil nodded and gestured to Filch to follow along.
Crossing the distance across the grassy plain, he landed at the beginning of the old wooden bridge and shook off the remainings of the dew from the back. With hours away from the dawn, he enjoyed some peace and quiet, crimson eyes vigilantly scanning the visible grounds.
He looked away only when a pair of slow footsteps approached, squinted face studying him for a moment before speaking up.
"Thought it'd be you," concluded Argus Filch, the man that somehow always knew how to sniff the right people out when he needed them. The raven observed the man for a moment, and then Mrs. Norris, cozily placed into his arms, eyes fixated.
Making peace with the fact that his venturing has been moved aside for whatever Filch needed him for, the raven landed onto the bridge and morphed. Black feathers were quickly replaced with clothes, and the long tail elongated and thinned out, creating a river of dark locks. Neither the man nor the cat flinched. Instead, they both seemed unimpressed.
"Good evening, mister Filch. Having a calm night, I hope," Virgil greeted in the usual polite manner, adjusting the herb pouch on his side.
"I haven't had a calm night since I was born. I ain't planning to start now," came out as grumpily as expected from Argus Filch and treating him with an elusive chuckle from the professor.
"I see. Well. Who am I to tell you otherwise?" Virgil responded light-heartedly, and it seemed that it was of Filch's liking as he wasted no time to nod in agreement. Virgil was aware of the man's eyes still resting on him even while he was busy charming his hair into a neat bunch and rolling his sleeves down per his own professional code. Even so, he allowed the man to speak first.
"You're in a good mood, professor," the man pointed out, stroking Mrs. Norris in the process. "Good hunt?" It seemed that the thought of it alone managed to amuse Filch as he finally cracked a smug smirk, expecting the answer that he would approve of. Virgil hesitated, but it did nothing to deter the man from the topic.
"It was quite alright. Thank you for asking," he worked his way around the initial mental setback. "I have picked up a few lovely herbal specimens on my way back as well." Argus always knew, on schedule, when the resident vampire would leave and then come back and what he would be doing in the process. With years it became less unnerving, and Virgil never blamed the man for his curiosity, as morbid as it was. However, the feeling of being an impostor would always find its way back with every confirmation of his habits. As expected, the man was visibly pleased with the answer, but the unfortunate thing was that it further opened up the topic.
"What was it this time, eh? A deer? Muntjac? Bugbear?" The latter was added with a dose of conspiracy. The plain peculiarity of a suggestion snapped Virgil out of his initial confusion, and he resumed with a smirk. "Ah, if I told you, you'd likely be disappointed. I'd like to leave that to the imagination. If you don't mind." Naturally, the smug smirk disappeared quickly after, but even so, Filch was content. He squinted once more inquisitorially before dropping the subject altogether with a simple "Aye. Suit yourself."
Happy to move further from the discussion at hand, Virgil used the pause to keep the words flowing with another. "But I am sure you did not come all the way here to discuss my venture," he noted. "How may I be of service?"
Filch's eyes darted towards his cat once he remembered the initial reason for finding professor Hildegard. "Right. Aye. Mrs. Norris is slowing down again, professor," he answered solemnly. "As it is now, she can hardly walk a few steps before giving up." The tone of Argus's voice became notably coated with concern. "She needs that mixture of yours. It is the only thing that helps."
It is the only thing that keeps her alive, actually...
But Argus Filch was certainly not there for a harsh reality of cats not being meant to live as long as their masters; he was there to make sure it happened. And while otherwise a rejectable request, Virgil initially agreed to humor the man in the light of two very compelling arguments: The cat - although ancient - was otherwise healthy, and Argus - otherwise a resident grouch - was otherwise lonely. It seemed like a justified generosity, and he was yet to find a solid argument for denying such generosity to the old grump.
Taking a brief look at the cat, Virgil nodded and gestured to Filch to follow along.
***
"Dosage will be per usual, and I will make sure I have a few more doses prepared and available." Acknowledging the directions, Filch grabbed the vial impatiently, but not without remembering his manners, even though they were mumbled out along the way. "Yes. Yes, thank you, professor." It was rare to receive a pleasantry from the old man, and Virgil felt no need to nitpick.
"You are very welcome, mister Filch. I am happy to help," Virgil responded politely, offering the caretaker to pass first towards the door, which Filch was quick to accept. Once outside, the man was briefly set back because he no longer found himself in the dungeons but on the third floor's corridor, freshly out of a broom closet. Having a widely recognized negative opinion on all kinds of shenanigans except for those he grew accustomed to, Argus once again frowned at Virgil. On the other hand, Virgil expected it and responded as soon as he stepped through the door himself. "I assure you it is only a light commodity. A shortcut, if you will."
"It's always about commodities and shortcuts with you lot," Argus grumbled once again as he walked away. When the man was at a distance, professor Hildegard reached towards the closet door, having every intention to retreat for the night until his ear twitched in the direction of muffed sounds coming from down the hall.
They indeed wasted no time. Classes were yet to start, and some youngsters clearly already had half a mind to drive the old caretaker insane. Well. It was better him than Filch walking into that classroom in any way.
The Charms classroom door was partially opened. Notable footsteps paraded around, stopping and moving again every once in a while. His own steps were quiet as he approached the door and stepped in, looking for the jester. Instead, he found a familiar face moving between the benches. Except, she no longer had anything else to learn in them.
"Remind me, miss Rosier," professor Hildegard spoke up after letting her have a moment of solitude, "How long was the Charms Club of your interest again? A month, was it," he jested. Discussing her on-an-off relationship with extracurricular activities and clubs became almost an everyday thing once he became the Head of Ravenclaw. A significant amount of times, he would have been stopped in a hallway by students requesting miss Rosier to rejoin. Although there were plenty of things he could do, persuading miss Rosier always presented a challenge.
"Nothing much has changed, I'm afraid," Virgil proceeded as he walked in, referring to the classroom that possibly looked precisely the same as it did years ago. "Wizards' need for predictability is both admirable and disappointing at the same time."
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