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Professor Corelli-Rose

Scrub-a-dub-dub!

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Professor Corelli-Rose

From its straw-strewn floor, with the tatty leftover carcasses of various vermin poking through the hay and the clumps of owl droppings, to the glassless windows opened dangerously on the expanse of the rolling ground below and beyond, the Owlery not only made Arcite wrinkle his nose at the sweet, dusty scent of straw and the feathers of so many owls, huddle into the collar of his coat against the ever-present draft streaming in through the openings (thereby masking some of the odour), but also took him for a stroll down memory lane.

 

This was, after all, the place where he and Carson had met and spoken for the very first time. There was the spot where Arcite had held Carson at wand-point and sniped at him for something or other about being a Gryffindor and there was the place where Carson had tripped him, so that he'd ended up taking part of the way down on his arse. Ah, memories. If someone had told either of them that they would one day be married...

 

Arcite grinned; he wondered if Carson remembered.

 

Stomping footsteps reminded him that he wasn't here to the nostalgia trip, and so Arcite turned about so he could face @Juan Garcia as he climbed the last of the steps up to the Owlery. He'd sent the notice of detention via dragon the morning following the crackdown in the Forest. It had been similarly worded to the note he'd send the Second Years and had said, besides the time and date (Sunday Afternoon, 2PM):

 

Should you choose to play hooky, please be advised that I have a very particular brood of dragons (as you have doubtless seen) – dragons that I have acquired and trained over a very long career – and which may be a little more convincing than I. They will find you, and they will bring you to the appointed place by the appointed time. See you on Sunday!

 

"*Benvenuto nella tua detenzione, Signor Garcia," Arcite drawled. From his perch on the stone sill of one of the windows, Pietro gave a skree in greeting. "I hope - but doubt, given your expression - that you understand how much it pains me to give detention to someone from my own House, but I'm not here to play favourites, and have decided that your task for today should be educational and grueling enough that further breaches of school rules be thought about thrice as hard." He nudged the bales of hay he'd had lifted up by his tireless brood with his shoe. "You're going to be doing a bit of cleaning. Your first task will be to clear off all of this old straw, so that it can be disposed off by my dragons. After that, you'll scrub the floor and walls that you can reach with this." He presented Juan with a toothbrush.

 

Then he waited for a moment, watching the boy's expression.

 

"As using that would take too long and I have dinner to get to at home, let me help a little." He flicked his wand at the toothbrush and Engorgio'd it, until it was about the length of a broom. "There," he nodded, satisfied. "There is the bucket of water," he pointed up to a landing, leading higher up the tower. "I'll replenish it as it becomes dirtier and emptier. Oh, and," he tossed him a pair of gloves. "Might want to put those on, as you're not permitted to use magic. You made begin. Oh, and, don't bother with the 'You're wasting my time, so I'll waste yours,' ridiculousness," he flapped a hand dismissively. "I'm more than twice your age and have more than twice than patience. You're welcome to test it, but that is highly inadvisable."

 

With that, Arcite turned and retreated to sit up on one of the stairs, after Scourgifying it of owly detritus. From his bag, he pulled out a stack of research papers and settled down to read.

 

-------

 

*Welcome to your detention! (also happens to be the bit I had written in Italian).

Have fun, however please be advised that House Points might be taken off over the course of the detention if Juan decides to retaliate in some way.

Dun dun dunnn indeed.

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Juan Garcia

Detention. For trying to educate the measly excuses for Slytherins they’d received. What kind of Slytherin was going to literally look a gift horse in the mouth and say ‘Oh no, I actually don’t appreciate the opportunity to meet such an advanced creature?’ None. They were given only Hufflepuffs. Except like… maybe two kids. ‘Save him,’ ‘the prefect is mistreating him,’ blah blah. Everyone else was stupid. This had been amazing. They were all just bitter.

 

Especially the stupid professor. Probably was so upset this brilliant introductory care of magical creatures lesson had come from Juan Garcia and not himself. Obviously, that was what stupid Professor Corelli-Rose was bitter about. Obviously. Juan was considering being truant, at the very least, when he passed by a gaggle of first years (yes, a gaggle), on his way to the Great Hall. He needed to set a good example. Ugh. And there had been way too many witnesses there when he’d received his first detention in years.

 

His first detention as a prefect, mind you.

 

But also… he kinda really wanted to see those dragons again. If he could trap one in a cage, he could figure out how they worked. Because he wasn’t about to dissect his own, after all. They were special. But Corelli-Rose’s? Who cared.

 

A greeting in Italian. It seemed Corelli-Ro—flack it—Prof C.R. really did wanna talk to someone in another language. Juan considered giving him a little satisfaction because honestly, whatever detention was happening in the owlery was probably not… What?

 

“Uh you’re aware I didn’t break more than like… one school rule, right?” Juan drawled back as well, “Forbidden Forest. And honestly, given how many people actually go in there every year, they should just call it the flackin’ forest.”

 

Cleaning? CLEANING? Juan pulled out his wand, ready to just instantly zap everything away… until cruel and unusual punishment came along.

 

A tiny toothbrush. Juan eyeballed it, scoffing when Prof C.R. enlarged it. So funny… Juan watched the gloves tossed his way fall to the floor. “There is really no reason to ban me from using magic other than you’re scared of me showing you up as a better wizard.”

 

Regardless, Juan put his wand aside, ducked down to grab the gloves, and chucked them at the professor’s face, “I might by wasting your time, but you’re past your prime and I haven’t even hit mine. So really, you’re just damaging the future at this point.”

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Professor Corelli-Rose

It's been 84 years...

 

“Mister Garcia, I really – ” Arcite sighed, looking up just in time to have the rubber-ducky-yellow gloves fill his vision a literal two seconds before they smacked him in the face and fell, without ceremony, to the notes in his lap. An owl hooted warily into the silence.

 

Why did these things happen? Was it because he was short? Or new? Likely, it was because he was both. He was more than half certain that had it been a different professor in his place, this gross display of impetuousness would not have occurred. It would have been so easy to be petty. So… so easy. Juan Garcia was obviously hoping for a reaction, and for a moment Arcite entertained giving him one: How easy would it be to capture his wand, bid Pietro – who perched quietly up high in one of the windows – to terrorize the owls until they all, well… – and then lock the Slytherin boy in the Owlery until everything had been cleaned up.

 

Really, it would have been right up his alley.

 

---and would likely start a prank war that Arcite simply would have no patience for.

 

In the end, Arcite decided to play from a different deck of cards, so to speak. He heaved a delicate sigh and pulled off his glasses to rub the lenses with the edge of his cuff before settling them back on the bridge of his nose. Then he put the discarded yellow gloves to the side and raised his brows as he spoke.

 

“Well, since you’ve decided to toss them at me, I suppose you won’t be needing them to clean up,” he patted the forlorn gloves. If being the Professor wasn’t going to do the trick, Arcite felt compelled to step into his other role: Bad Cop Dad. “Pity, since I would imagine you’d need them to clean this mess up.” Arcite spread his arms to encompass the area of soiled straw. “It’s admirable you’d endeavour such a messy task with your bare hands. Oh,” he sat up and snapped his fingers and fished out his wand. “I just remembered – Expelliarmus! – Don’t suppose you’ll be needing this, either?” he blinked.

 

With a whistle and an elegant curl of his wrist, Arcite summoned Pietro to soar down and snatch Juan’s wand in his maw, before fluttering back up to his perch.

 

“Right, now, where were we?” Arcite smiled a smile that was small, sharp, and impish. “What future were you talking about? You can tell me while you’re cleaning. I’m all ears.”

Edited by Professor Corelli-Rose

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