#bash lacroix

(Year One)

“You seem to have a good group this year,” MacMillian said at the Halloween feast, gesturing at the group of Ravenclaw first years that were seated together.  “Got their heads screwed on straight, do they?”

“So it would appear,” Luewellyn agreed. “They’re solid students, at the very least, and moderately well behaved. Especially the young ladies.”

He had expected as much from Jane Andrews, given what a model student her sister was (and he was ever so grateful she didn’t take after her horrid brother) but Diana Barry seemed to take “well-behaved” to a whole other level. And while Musa and Cetus were much like other eleven year old boys at times, they had a genuine eagerness for learning that overcame any other bad habits. 

“Lucky you,” Allen muttered from Luewellyn’s other side. “I’ve had to give my Gryffindor first year boys detention twice already. And that MacKenzie boy would rather draw in all of his classes instead of take notes. He’s cost the house at least 50 points already from that alone.” 

“Is he any good?” Luewellyn asked, curious. Ravenclaw’s usually got the artists, though if this one liked to cause trouble perhaps it was better he was in Gryffindor.   

“Who knows,” Allen said, stuffing a large piece of pork pie into his mouth. “Never bothered to look. But he’s a child; it can’t be that good.” 

“Hmm,” Luewellyn said, barely able to hide the distaste in his tone at Allen’s attitude about it. From further down the table, he saw Marilla Cuthbert’s lips twitch. She never did miss a beat, that woman. 

“I don’t envy Gryffindor having to make up those points,” Luewellyn said. “Though, Ravenclaws never do cause any trouble it seems. We get the more studious types.” 

Privately, he thought it might be nice to get some more rambunctious students from time to time. Insert some passion and liveliness into the house, just to keep things interesting. He’d love to see Diana Barry and Jane Andrews actually smile, for once. 

Oh well. If someone that excitable did come along, they’d likely end up in Hufflepuff or Gryffindor. 

***

(Year Two)

“Mister Phillips,” Luewellyn said, heading directly to where the man sat in the staff room. “Care to explain why my house is suddenly missing fifty points?” 

“One of your students was causing a ruckus in the corridor,” Phillips said stiffly. “It was quite unbecoming behavior.” 

Right. Three guesses who said student was. “And this student would be...” 

“Miss Shirley,” Phillips said, scowling. “I don’t know how you deal with it Luewellyn, her carrying on all the time. I wouldn’t stand for it in my house.” 

“Well,” Luewellyn said coldly. “Fortunate for you, Miss Shirley-Cuthbert is not in your house, and on that note I ask that you leave any future discipline of Ravenclaws to me, their head of house.” 

“Of course,” Phillips said hastily. “Forgive my overstep, Phineas. Of course you’d rather punish the girl yourself.” 

“Hmm,” Luewellyn said, and swept from the room. 

He was passing by the Entrance Hall just do see a number of sapphires vanish from the Ravenclaw column. 

“Oh what now?” He threw his hands up. 

A group of third year Hufflepuffs were walking behind him.

“Did you hear? That crazy Ravenclaw girl hexed Billy Andrews again!” One of the boys told his friends excitedly.  “Gave him a pig nose and everything!!” 

Phineas sighed. 

***

(Year Three)

“Congrats on Ravencalaw’s quidditch win yesterday, Phineas,” Irving said at breakfast. “That Diana Barry is a spitfire on a broomstick, hmm? Who would have thought,” he chuckled. 

Phineas put his head in his hands. 

“Her family doesn’t know,” he muttered. 

“Pardon?” Irving gave him a puzzled look. 

“The Barry’s. There’s no way they know,” Phineas gave a deep sigh. Eliza Barry would rather wear hand me down robes than let her daughter set foot on a quidditch pitch. Which means she is hiding this from her parents and expecting it not to blow up in her face.” 

This was unfair. Phineas had come to expect this type of behavior from Anne, but Diana was meant to be the stable, level headed one.

She was not meant to sneak behind everyone’s back and join a quidditch team. WIthout informing her parents! What if she got injured? It would be Phineas’ job to tell her parents and then the blame would all land on him. 

Phineas temporarily abandoned all decorum and put his head down on the table. Maybe retirement could get him out of it. 

Irving awkwardly patted him on the shoulder. “There, there.” 

Phineas made a note to find Madam Cuthbert sometime that day. Otherwise she’d slip and tell Eliza and the Ravenclaw quidditch season would be over. 

***

(Year Four) 

“Ah, so you’re the head of Ravenclaw house,” Stacey Muriel said, shaking his hand enthusiastically. “It has been a pleasure teaching your students. They certainly are characters, aren’t they.” 

“That is...a way to describe them,” Phineas agreed. Charlie Sloan had blown up yet another  cauldron earlier that week, Prissy Andrews had jinxed the head boy (though no one could prove it) and Diana and Anne...well. Enough had been said about that pair. 

Not that he regretted any of them being in his house. He hadn’t bet against Phillips and Allen on the Blythe v Shirley-Cuthbert rivalry for nothing, after all. Anne was going to make him 50 sickles richer. 

“They have lovely things to say about you as well,” Phineas said, which was true. Some of his co-workers had their reservations about Madam Stacey’s hiring and later about her teaching, but Phineas put stock in student reviews. And the students raved about her. 

“Do you enjoy discussing wand theory?” Phineas asked Muriel. “Irving, the previous charms teacher, and I used to enjoy a good debate over a cup of tea in the afternoon.” 

“I would love too,” Muriel beamed. “May I bring Bash?” 

Phineas blinked. “Bash?” 

***

(Year Five) 

“Here,” Phineas said, dumping a bunch of extra quills, scrolls, and chalk into Bash’s desk. “The supplies you requested.” 

Bash blinked at him. “I didn’t request any supplies.” 

“No, you didn’t,” Phineas agreed. “Because you knew the bigot of a headmaster would just ignore it. So I ordered it for you. You can’t teach a class without basic supplies.” 

“I suppose not,” Bash said, smiling. “Thank you, Phineas. I appreciate it.” 

“Don’t mention it,” Phineas said. “I mean that. I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Uh huh,” Bash said, amused. “Did you order anything for Muriel?” 

“No, Marilla took care of that. We figured if we divided and conquered then it looked less suspicious.” 

“Marilla doesn’t teach a class,” Bash pointed out. 

“You think our headmaster is smart enough to realize that?” 

***

(Year Six) 

Phineas wondered if it was time to seriously consider retirement. He had a good run. Over fifteen years as a Hogwarts Professor, that was a respectable streak. He could go out with a reputation of fair, unbroken and unbent professor and none would be the wiser. 

“It’s just a matter of educational fairness, sir, that we-” Anne continued valiantly. 

“Sure,” Phineas sighed, waving a hand. “I’ll give you permission.” 

“Really?” Musa gasped, delighted. “All of us?” 

“Yes, yes, all of the sixth year Ravenclaws, unfettered access to the restricted section,” Phineas said. “I’ll drop a note to Vance. Now, please, please, stop filibustering me every time you see me in the corridor.”

“Thank you sir!” Anne and Cetus beamed at him. “You won’t regret it,” Diana added. 

“I am almost positive that I will,” Phineas muttered as the group turned to leave. At the last moment he reached out and tapped Diana’s shoulder. 

“Is it true you have a little sister starting here next year?”

“Minnie May? Yes, she turns eleven in a few weeks.” 

Retirement was sounding like a smarter idea by the moment. 

***

(Year Seven) 

Phineas looked out at the graduating class of 1899 with a great deal amount of pride, and no small amount of sorrow at the idea they wouldn’t be back at Hogwarts next fall. 

He had taught some extraordinary students over the years, but this class without a doubt was exceptional. Each was a credit to themselves and to Hogwarts. 

He surveyed the group, all huddled together as they hugged and cheered in the thoroughs of uninhabited delight. He saw Josie Pye and Ruby Gillis giggling like little girls as they discussed boarding houses and their new jobs, an idea utterly unthinkable for them just seven years ago. Cole MacKenzie (who, Luewellyn has come to find, is indeed an incredible artist) held his head high and confident as Jerry Baynard jumped on his back, scuffling him into a headlock. Hard to believe these same young men had led a minor revolution only a month or so ago. Gilbert Blythe had let go of Anne (and thank Merlin that had finally happened) and was surrounded by the Lacroix family, letting baby Delphine play with his robes and looking happier than Phineas had seen since his very first year. 

And his Ravenclaws...Musa and Cetus were with Charlie, attempting to be sneaky as they set off fireworks and absolutely failing. (Though, Phineas did seem to be the only one to notice.) Jane was being fussed over by Prissy Andrews, her face absolutely lit up with joy at her sister’s praise. 

That just left Diana and Anne, who were hugging each other so tightly it was hard to tell whose arm was whose. Diana Barry, who had come to Ravenclaw mild-mannered and polite, the perfect little lady and so, so lonely. Now she was a top draft pick for the Holyhead Harpies, undoubtedly a quidditch star on the rise. And Anne - who came to Hogwarts wanting and hoping and lonely as well, who had taken one look at everything the wizarding world had to offer and not offer, and demanded better. 

If many of his previous students were stars, Anne might be a whole constellation, or an inferno, taking the world by storm. 

No self-respecting Professor would ever admit to having favorites, but in private, Phineas could admit that those two absolutely were. 

As the students were slowly ushered toward the lake, Phineas found himself joined by Bash, Muriel, Matthew and Marilla on the lawn. 

“Strange to think we won’t have them back in September, isn’t it,” Muriel said quietly, inclining her head. 

“Safe to say they left an impression,” Bash chuckled. “I wonder how next year’s seventh years will measure up.” 

“Hopefully not quite as interesting,” Phineas shook his head. “I’m hoping Ravenclaw can go back to its usual type of quiet, less exciting students.” 

“They’re a tough group to live up to,” Muriel agreed. “We might not see anyone quite like them again.”

“Until their kids go here,” Bash piped up. Phineas froze. 

“Oh, they’re hardly more than children themselves, Bash,” Marilla tutted, because the woman was absolutely in denial that Jerry and Anne were adults now, and Phineas could prove it. “That won’t be for a while yet.” 

Phineas considered the idea. Children. Of this bunch. Sweet Merlin, the offspring of Blythe and Anne alone....

“Any offspring have to go straight into Hufflepuff,” he told Marilla. “No debate.” 

“You must be out of your god-given mind,” Marilla said. “Absolutely not.” 

“They were all practically your children, take some responsibility,” Phineas hissed. “What happened to Hufflepuff’s ‘taking the lot’, hmm?” 

“Are you ever glad that you aren’t a head of house?” Bash asked Muriel loudly. 

“Oh everyday,” Muriel said. “Couldn’t imagine all that extra responsibility. Very tiring.” 

“The day Anne and Gilbert’s child winds up anywhere but Ravenclaw is a day the stars fall, Phineas,” Marilla sniffed. “Deal with it.” 

“I won’t. I can’t. I just survived seven years of this, I don’t deserve more. I will bribe the sorting hat if I have too.” 

(Gilbert’s 17th; 5th year) 

Fifth year, Gilbert was quickly learning, was taken far more seriously by his professors than the previous four years. Every class was giving homework nightly, and Gilbert found himself having to work well after prefect rounds ended more than once. 

Between his schoolwork, prefect duties, and personal studies in healing, Gilbert found himself so busy he hardly noticed the time flying by, until he woke up one October morning and realized quite suddenly it was his seventeenth birthday. 

He wasn’t sure what awoke him so early that morning; the other Slytherin boys were fast asleep, ready for a lazy Sunday. Gilbert only lay in bed for a few minutes, his mind turning the date over and over again, fixating on it, before he threw on his clothes and left. 

Seventeen. He was of age now. He felt strangely young about it - how was it possible to be of age, and yet not even have sat his OWL exams? 

Maybe the muggles were on to something, having their age set to 21. 

(Or maybe he just feels the odd man out because all the other seventeen year olds had sat their OWLs...because they didn’t spend a year wandering around the world.) 

He wound up by the lake without really noticing where his feet were headed. 

Seventeen. He was officially a man in the eyes of the wizarding world. For most, this was a sign of independence - they could travel the world (which Gilbert had already done), make their own financial decisions (which Gilbert has done since he was 14) and even begin seriously courting. Of course, most important was being able to do magic outside of Hogwarts - which, admittedly, would have come in real handy during his previous world travel. 

Even the tradition of the silver watch was already completed. Gilbert’s father’s watch sat in a cabinet at home, tucked away until Gilbert was ready to wear it. 

(He didn’t think he was, yet. Maybe he would save it for graduation.) 

In a different life, Gilbert might have woken up today in a dorm full of other sixth years turning seventeen, mind flushed with opportunity. (Maybe he wouldn't even have been in Slytherin in that alternate universe. Maybe have agreed to go to Gryffindor, like his brother had, or Ravenclaw like his sister.) There might have been a small pile of presents and letters tucked against his bed from his siblings, a new watch from his parents at the very top. He could have felt like today was the start of a whole new chapter. 

He was an adult, and all Gilbert wanted was to be a child in his family’s arms again. 

Something pecked at him. 

“Ow!” Gilbert yanked his hand back reflexively. He swatted at the air, trying to find what stung him. 

The pecking continued. 

“Cut it - ouch!” 

Gilbert finally caught sight of it, buzzing around his knee. It was a tiny yellow hummingbird, so miniature it was hardly larger than Gilbert’s pinkie finger. 

“The hell -” Gilbert muttered. He held out his palm and the bird landed gently...before turning into a puff of golden sparks. All that was left was a tiny scroll. 

Blythe - I’m not being bothered to go around this whole ridiculous castle to find you. Come to my office.  - Bash

Typical Bash, Gilbert grinned. Even down to the beautiful, totally unique use of magic. Gilbert wished (not for the first time) that Bash had a book of Trinidadian magic the two of them could study. The differences between Bash’s magic (half of it self taught) and British magic was staggering. What Gilbert could learn from them...

Well that was a dream for another day. Now, Gilbert was being summoned. 

“Ok, Bash, I got your message...”

BANG

Giant bursts of green, silver, and gold sparkles burst around the office. 

“Happy seventeenth!!” Bash shouted, slinging an arm around Gilbert’s shoulders. 

“Ah,” Gilbert grinned, staggering under the sudden weight. “Hello to you too Bash.” 

“Drink up!” Bash pushed a cup into Gilbert’s hand.

“I haven’t even eaten yet,” Gilbert protested. 

“And normally, I would support you being smart about that,” Bash said. “But it’s your seventeenth birthday! We need to celebrate!” 

“Celebrate exactly?” Gilbert asked, amused. “Managing to survive another year?”

“I’ll drink to that,” Bash said. “I’m amazed you made it past 14 to be honest.” 

“We met when I was 14.” 

“Exactly,” Bash grinned. “Anyways, there’s plenty to celebrate. You’re of age now! You can vote, drink, cast spells...court a girl.” 

“Ah, there it is.” 

“Be a man! Only a boy can’t admit when he’s gone over a lady.” 

“I am a man,” Gilbert said. “Officially, in the eyes of the wizarding world. And to that, I will drink.” Gilbert knocked the goblet back...and instantly started coughing. 

“You can make a boy into a man, but he will always be a mook,” Bash shook his head.