Open To Stop the Warden Calling Your Name

[Celia Vuong]

Plot ID #113688​

The lack of internet in the magical world had always annoyed Celia, but it wasn't until her dad's arrest that her annoyance had turned into agony. It was painful, being stuck in this bubble with zero clue what was happening to him. Where had the authorities taken him? Had he been granted bail? What did his charges even mean? Her mom was of no help. Celia had sent her a lengthy list of questions, but the only response she received was a reminder that they couldn't talk about this over mail. It had only been three days since she'd learned of her dad's arrest, and yet those days had felt like an eternity. How was she supposed to wait until the break, over three months away, to get answers?

Celia knew she had to take action, but the opportunity didn't present itself until the Valentine's Dance. Normally, Celia enjoyed attending the school's holiday celebrations. She loved having a chance to dress up and dance and mine for gossip with her friends. But this year, she couldn't muster any enthusiasm for the event. The news about her dad had completely hollowed her out. She'd barely gotten any sleep, her concentration was shot, and a heaviness had overtaken her limbs. The idea of going to any sort of party was unthinkable.

And yet the world spun on, largely oblivious to her problems. And because Celia was Celia, she was going to take advantage of this. Once she was sure the dance was well underway, she slipped out of the abandoned classroom where she'd been hiding and made her way to the library. To her relief, it was mostly empty. With the whole school preoccupied with the dance, she could safely start her research and try and answer some of the questions that had been plaguing her.

Celia knew the chances of finding a book about the American muggle justice system in the Hogwarts library were slim. But she hoped she could find something that would give her a better idea of what her dad was facing. She headed to the social sciences section, grimacing when she saw how small it was. Still, there were a few books about magical law, and Celia levitated them over to a nearby table. She then went to the section with reference books and started to pull some encyclopedias and dictionaries, sending them flying to her table with barely a backwards glance.

As Celia searched, she tried to ignore the creeping feeling that all of this was useless distraction. Because the truth was, the question she wanted answered more than anything else was, What's going to happen to my dad? And there was no legal text, encyclopedia, or dictionary that could give her the answer to that.

 

[Professor Gabrielle Moncrieffe]

The more things changed, the more things stayed the same. Back in her school days, the library had been her sanctum during Valentine's Day celebrations. Even as a prefect, she'd always taken the opportunity to skive off any sort of events just to go hide with some books. Which usually had nothing to do with anything she was actually studying, but just enough to keep her distracted. Now, as a professor, she was probably supposed to be supervising the dance - but now, even more than when she was a teenager, the idea of witnessing students flirting and making out was vile and absolutely nothing she wanted to be involved with. Carefully dodging any other professors, she had snuck into the library with the intention of beelining for the restricted section - making use of her professorly privilege - and was distracted by the sight of a student pouring through some magical law books. Gabrielle gave an almost sympathetic smile, cautiously approaching. She didn't know the student very well, not someone she'd had the chance to teach, but vaguely recognized her as one of the prefects.

"Couldn't agree more, even magical law is more interesting than the Valentine's dance," Gabrielle muttered, nosily peering over at what the girl was reading. In all honesty, law had been something Gabrielle had considered taking up when she was at school, but her passion had always been history. Law would've certainly been more of a stable, lucrative career, less creative than history but more employable, but yet here she was. Gabrielle lifted her head, looking her over with a raised eyebrow. "Are you alright?" She realized now that the girl seemed to look a little stressed, anxious, perhaps even panicked.

 

[Celia Vuong]

Once Celia had amassed a large stack of books, she sat down and began to go through their indexes. Right away, she could tell it would take a small miracle to find anything relevant to her dad's charges. There was very little about financial crimes, and Celia wondered if she should start with one of the muggle dictionaries instead. She wasn't sure the concept of a stock market even existed in the magical world. The wizard economy, or at least what she'd seen of it, seemed fairly rudimentary.

Celia was so absorbed in her reading that she didn't realize that someone had joined her until she heard a voice directly behind her. She started violently, slamming her hand against the open pages in an instinctive attempt to cover the text. Not that it mattered. The professor had clearly already seen the book's subject matter. "Professor..." she said a little breathlessly. Celia couldn't quite recall the woman's name though she knew the professor taught the lower level History of Magic classes. "Sorry, you startled me." She forced a smile to hide her irritation at being interrupted. On one hand, Celia supposed she should be grateful that it was a professor who had caught her and not a student. On the other hand, she couldn't yell at or threaten a professor to make them go away.

"Yes, I'm fine, why?" Celia asked, trying to pretend she had no idea what could have possibly prompted the concern. It definitely couldn't have been her complete overreaction or the dark circles under her eyes that refused to go away no matter how much concealer she applied. She had to redirect the conversation away from her. "Are you skipping the Valentine's dance too, then?" Celia asked with a tone of polite curiosity. "I thought professors were expected to chaperone all the major school events."

 

[Professor Gabrielle Moncrieffe]

Gabrielle wasn't shocked to have startled the girl - she had been somewhat informal and possibly rude in her approximation of a greeting. She supposed it was becoming a habit of loitering the library in spare moments. Perhaps she'd see about offering a revision session for OWL and NEWT history students if there was sufficient time. She pulled back a little, giving the student a bit more space and not nosing over the subject matter any further. Especially as she noted the change of subject. If she didn't want to talk about it, Gabrielle wouldn't force it.

"I believe we're supposed to," she admitted, seeing no reason not to be honest. The older students were young adults, after all, and she didn't have the connection of having taught anyone above the current fourth years. "My colleague probably counts for two people. And he's been dragged there by his nurse girlfriend. Bad enough I'd have to watch kids making out, I certainly don't need that on top of it." Gabrielle gave a wry smirk. "If anyone asks, I'm checking that nobody's doing anything inappropriate and you're getting in extra exam study, is that it?" They both knew full well the girl was not doing exam study, but there wasn't any issue with that in her eyes. She sat herself at a table nearby, giving her a little space but close enough to keep half an eye on her over her own books - mostly research for curriculum change. "But if you do need help finding anything, let me know."

 

[Celia Vuong]

So Professor Borisyuk was dating one of the school nurses. There was nothing like a particularly juicy piece of gossip to temporarily take Celia's mind off of things, and she considered this new piece of information. Was that why he had taken a job at Hogwarts? After all, he didn't look like a teacher. And how did that pairing even work? He was over twice the size of most people. "That sounds unprofessional," Celia said, raising her eyebrows slightly. "Making out with another staff member in front of students, I mean. Not skipping the dance." Of course, shirking your responsibilities was unprofessional, but Celia wasn't going to outright accuse the professor of this. She would just not-so-subtly allude to it.

Celia narrowed her eyes slightly when the professor brought up exams, wondering if the woman was trying to catch her in a lie. Her cover story had been OWL prep, but obviously that wouldn't work now that the professor had seen the contents of her book. "No, actually." Maybe it would be better to leave it alone and take the out the professor had given her, but Celia couldn't risk having another person catching onto her family's situation. It was bad enough that Seraphina knew. If a teacher found out, it wouldn't be long before the headmaster, the counselor, and her head of house knew as well. "I'm researching potential careers," Celia said, her gaze following the professor as she took a seat at a nearby table. "I'm trying to plan ahead before I have to decide which classes to take at the NEWT level."

 

[Professor Gabrielle Moncrieffe]

Gabrielle knew she wasn't exactly the most professional of teachers. She knew what she was about, and she didn't pretend to be best friends with the students. She got on well with some, true, but that was more like her tutoring days.. But she wasn't exactly cultivating a put together image. "You didn't hear it from me," she joked, looking conspiratorial, as she flipped open a notebook and jotted down a few notes from a tome on mythology. Gabrielle wasn't so lost in her world that she missed the implicit derision on the girl's tone, but wasn't exactly about to call her out on it. After all, she wasn't wrong.

Gabrielle nodded at the comment about careers, letting her pen lie down as she looked thoughtful. "It's hard...they don't give you that much of an overview on what options you have, do they." Perhaps she shouldn't have been so frank about it, but it wasn't as though she made a secret of her displeasure with some elements of the curriculum. "Or basis of comparison. You really shouldn't let it stress you - easier said than done, I know - you've got plenty of time. Something something do what makes you happy and other such advice you'll politely smile and nod through. Or tell me to bugger off over." Shaking her head, she looked back down at the notebook, quietly sighing and drawing a line through a sentence, starting again.

 

[Celia Vuong]

It seemed this professor was one of those teachers, the kind who tried to pretend they were cool and just like their students. Her predecessor, Professor Adams, had tried the same thing. Celia wondered how it was possible that none of these teachers seemed to realize that putting on this act only made them look desperate. She gave the professor an almost pitying smile.

A complete waste of time — that's what this whole conversation was. Celia already knew which classes she would be continuing with at the NEWT level (all of them), and she already knew her post-grad plans (university). She had the next 10 years of her life mapped out. Unfortunately, she had committed herself to this lie, and she would have to see it through. "No, they don't," Celia said, barely suppressing a bitter laugh. "Career counseling at this school is non-existent, and I don't think the administration or the Ministry has any plans to change that." She didn't care if this professor thought her ungracious in her criticism of the school; it was nothing she wouldn't say in one of her op-eds for the Monthly. "Is that how most students respond to your advice?" Celia asked, arching an eyebrow. Maybe she shouldn't be so bold, but lately, she had found it increasingly difficult to keep up her polite, model prefect façade. Plus, Celia was still annoyed that this professor had picked a table next to hers when she could have chosen literally any other spot in the library.

 

[Professor Gabrielle Moncrieffe]

It was probably a terrible thing to admit, but Gabrielle had, for the length of this interaction, tried to see if she could access the right parts of her memory to place the girl. It was her response that had solidified who it was. Gabrielle had, of course, read the school paper, curious to see what the students would write about, and the opinion pages had certainly stuck out to her. She'd recalled noting with some amusement the comment about the History curriculum - nothing she didn't completely agree with - and been impressed by the formation of her arguments. She scratched out another word, scribbled something below, and lifted her pen again, wobbling it between her fingers as she thought. "Seems so. I'm having enough of an uphill battle with the Ministry trying to update the History curriculum. What was the line...something about not focusing on British wizarding history and Greek myths?" She raised an eyebrow, turning her head with an altogether too polite smile. "That was you who wrote that spirited argument for the Triwizard Tournament, wasn't it?" She turned back to her notebook. Gabrielle was certain the girl wanted to be left to her own devices, and she didn't intend to bother her too much, she just couldn't help but note that she didn't seem completely alright, and figured it best to keep half an eye on her, just in case. "Probably more the polite derision. I'm doing a poor job at being teacherly in seeing an obviously clever girl who looks far more worried than the looming threat of NEWTs justifies. Even though it's hardly anyone's business but your own." She underlined the point about Māori and Polynesian mythology, placed a dot point underneath it, and pondered a moment before writing out a couple of notes.

 

[Celia Vuong]

Celia couldn't help the look of surprise that flashed across her face when the professor mentioned her article. After all, it predated the woman's tenure. But more significantly, she was unused to anyone taking her op-eds seriously. Though Celia justified her column to the other Monthly staff as "valuable journalism that held power to account," she had long since stopped believing in those lofty ideals. These days, she wrote primarily for the future college admissions officer who would be reviewing her op-eds, which she planned on submitting as writing samples. "It was," she admitted. "I wouldn't get your hopes up. Other professors have tried to update their lesson plans, but it's pretty much impossible to get major changes approved," she said, thinking of Professor Corrins.

At the professor's next comment, Celia tensed. Did the woman not believe her? She had to bite back a passive aggressive retort. "I don't see how being clever helps with choosing a future career." She paused. "Plus it's my OWL year. Everyone's worried," she said with a casual shrug. Her statement was undercut somewhat by the absence of other fifth years in the library, though Celia thought she'd spotted an older student sitting in the corner. Maybe the professor would mistake them for another fifth year. It was somewhat of a gamble to bring up OWLs. While Celia needed to give the woman a plausible explanation for appearing "worried," she didn't want the professor to think she couldn't handle the stress of exams. Then again, that was better than the professor knowing the truth.