3 – Something To Talk About

"Alright, Mr. Weasley. I'll grant you that. Muggles do try to compensate for their lack of magical ability by continuously inventing things to make their lives easier." Elizabett turned to the rest of her fifth-year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. "But…is that a bad thing?" she questioned. "On a piece of parchment," she instructed, "I want you to make a list of five Muggle inventions and their Wizard equivalent. You have ten minutes. Let's see what you come up with, and no discussing it…yet." She finished with a sly smile that her students now recognized as something to look forward to.

Professor Castlewood's classes, for the most part, were dynamic. She made the students think, and there was a lot of idea sharing. She rarely criticized, but would gently try to direct a negative student to see a different way. Only on the rare occasion had a class seen her lose her temper, and it was something they chose not to provoke in the future. When one particular student defied warnings and continuously made crude and boorish remarks regarding the stupidity of Muggle females, they witnessed their professor glare at the offending pupil while the candle on her desk instantly melted to nothing. She regained control quickly, and with a gentle movement from her projective hand, reformed the candle. The students were beginning to see their soft-spoken professor as quite a powerful witch.

"Time's up. What have you come up with?" Elizabett had been wandering the class, looking over students' shoulders as they wrote, smiling encouragingly at some of the responses.

Instantly, hands shot into the air.

"Mr. Prewett?" Elizabett pointed to a chubby, redheaded Gryffindor.

"I've heard that Muggles have automobiles, and Wizards have brooms," the boy grinned proudly as several other students lowered their hands.

"Very good. Do you have any idea how many people can fit in an automobile?" The class collectively shook their heads. "Well, it depends on the size. Some automobiles are made very small and can only carry two people, while others are very large and can carry at least six."

Some students' jaws dropped in astonishment. A vehicle that could carry six people? Rather like the magic carpets that had been banned by the British Ministry years ago.

"Do we have trains?" There was an accumulative nod. "How about buses?"

"My mum and I took the Knight Bus once to my gran's. It's new," Hester Smith chimed excitedly.

"Good, and these are things that both Wizards and Muggles have," Elizabett continued as she moved around the class. "Anything else?"

"They have radio, and we have the wireless." "They have pots, and we have cauldrons." "They wear coats, and we wear cloaks."

"We both have houses." "And governments. "And schools."

The ideas came out fast as hands whipped into the air, and the period flew by as students animatedly discussed the similarities and differences between Wizards and Muggles. They were about to embark on a rather in-depth discussion of electricity verses magical power when the bell rang. Something told Elizabett that the conversation would not end when they left the room.

~~~***~~~

"I really wish you wouldn't stir them up so," Professor Babbling criticized at the evening's staff meeting. "They leave your class so talkative that they chat right through mine. Ancient Runes requires concentration and their not."

Several other staff members nodded in agreement, and Elizabett promised to have a talk with her students.

"That's just the problem," Professor Slughorn decided to include his two knuts. "You let them talk. They "discuss" issues," he snorted derisively. "Now, we know that you were not trained as a teacher, and such a skill requires careful development, but you must keep control over your students. It's your job to impart knowledge, not to let them discover it for themselves."

Elizabett's cheeks began to flush. She thought that she had been doing a fine job. The students enjoyed her class. They were catching on to the whole idea behind Muggle Studies, and the class was never "out of control". She had surprisingly good command over the discussions, not letting the more vocal students dominate, and bringing out the more quiet ones. There were occasionally some rude and ignorant comments, but they were handled quickly and firmly. If the students were discussing the topics outside of class, then she felt that she was successful. She looked over at the Headmaster for support as he sat back in the large, throne-like chair taking in the proceedings.

When he noticed the lull in conversation, he softly replied. "Miss Castlewood has done an admirable job so far. Let her speak with her students."

Professor Babbling huffed and fidgeted in her seat, whispering something to the Astronomy professor to her left, who huffed as well.

"On to the next item of business," Headmaster Dippet continued. "Halloween is this weekend, and with it the senior levels are permitted into Hogsmeade. I would like to have a few teachers in the village to keep watch over our students. Do I have any volunteers?"

Professor Kettleburn raised his hand. He had to head into town anyway to pick something up for his Care of Magical Creatures class. Apparently, he was trying to breed a rare Sillingwat and needed some more cotton batting for a nest.

Professor Merrythought cheerfully volunteered, and Elizabett raised her hand. It had been a long time since she'd ventured into Hogsmeade. Ever since school began, she had been completely focused on her classes, and now felt the diversion would be welcome. Professor Dumbledore then leaned forward to volunteer, stating that a new shipment of Sherbet Lemons should be in at the Village Square Sweet Shoppe. Professor Slughorn's ears perked up, and he joined the list, mumbling something about candied pineapples.

The Headmaster rolled his eyes. "As long as you all realize that you must keep an eye on the students and have them back here for the evening feast."

The volunteers smiled with anticipation of the upcoming event.

~~~***~~~

Professors Kettleburn, Merrythought, and Castlewood met in the main entranceway right after breakfast on Saturday morning. Professors Slughorn and Dumbledore had not yet arrived, and the students were impatiently lining up to sign out for the Hogsmeade trip. The weather promised to be favourable, and the sun was already burning off the early morning fog. Professor Kettleburn re-examined his list for the tenth time before stuffing it into the pocket of his faded, brown trousers. Elizabett liked the Care of Magical Creatures instructor. He was not very tall and had wild, coffee-colour hair liberally streaked with grey. His scruffy moustache and beard were kept short and hid the many scars that had been acquired over the years in his dealings with unusual wildlife. He always seemed to have a positive, optimistic outlook on life. Elizabett felt uplifted in his presence just as she felt with Professor Merrythought, whom she deemed was aptly named. He was a bit taller and slimmer that Professor Kettleburn with greying hair that had once been auburn. He was clean-shaven, and kept a hooked pipe, that never seemed to be lit, clenched in his teeth. It gave him a sophisticated appearance. He always had a smile and a kind word, a little too temperate, some might say, for a Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. This was not to say that either man ignored the harsh realities of life, they simply chose to search out the more pleasant side of things.

Strolling down the narrow, cobbled, main road of Hogsmeade, the trio split up and headed toward their personal errands. Elizabett continued to meander further into the ancient village, examining shop windows, watching students excitedly head to their favourite destinations, and stopping to feed the pigeons in the small, village square.

While sitting on the archaic, wooden, park bench in front of a flowing, water fountain, Elizabett spied the two missing professors leisurely ambling their way to the Sweet Shoppe. Professor Slughorn was chatting a mile a minute, hands waving in the air before him. He looked like he was ready to take flight, and Elizabett smiled to herself. Professor Dumbledore's expression was hard to read. He appeared to be listening to his friend, but his eyes kept darting from the street to the shop to his friend and then to the square. When his eyes landed on Elizabett, his lips curled upward slightly, he tipped his head slowly forward in a half nod of acknowledgement, and quickly changed direction. Professor Slughorn was caught by surprise and grabbed hold of Professor Dumbledore's elbow, and the two appeared to walk arm-in-arm to their destination.

It was nearing lunch hour when Elizabett's colleagues joined her in the square. They discussed the possibility of heading to the Simmering Cauldron for a bite to eat. Professor Kettleburn extolled the virtues of Madam Elena's turnip soup and pumpkin pie, and Professor Merrythought and Elizabett laughed out loud when his eyes glazed over at the thought. They weren't certain whether it was for the food or for the buxom proprietor. As they left the square to head right on the main road, the trio met Professors Slughorn and Dumbledore emerging from the Alchemist's shop. The five professors chatted for a few moments and a suggestion was issued that they dine together. Professor Dumbledore eased away from the Potions Master to Elizabett's side as the small group strolled toward the best eating establishment in Hogsmeade.

However, part way down the road, a young man dressed in a neat, black frockcoat stopped the group. His high, starched, white collar was fastened with a smart, black and grey cravat that peeked out above the fastening of the black, woollen cloak that was draped elegantly over his shoulders.

"Pardon me." He removed his hat to give a polite bow to the group, a twitch of a smile played on his lips. "Such lucky gentlemen to all escort one lovely lady to lunch?"

Elizabett's cheeks flushed as Professor Slughorn sputtered an incomprehensible reply.

Professor Kettleburn shook a wary finger at the cheeky, young man. "The virtues of this young woman are not to be questioned, nor are our intentions," he frowned as his eyes narrowed. "I know you. Graduated quite some time ago." A grin began to creep through the beard. "You seem to be doing well for yourself," he indicated to the fine clothes.

The man bowed again, his smile genuine at the praise and at the reprimand. "I meant no offence. I came in search of this charming lady, but she seems to be spoken for several times over," he grinned at Elizabett who by now was grinning back.

"You're terrible!" she exclaimed as she stepped forward to light-heartedly bat his cloaked arm. "What are you doing here, and how did you know that I'd be in the village?"

The man laughed as he scooped his arm around her waist lifting her off the ground. "I was at your house last week, speaking with your father, when your owl arrived. Your mother relayed the message that you were chaperoning in Hogsmeade this weekend. If I recall, there's a feast tonight, but I was hoping to take you to lunch. Would you mind if I steal her away?" Thomas directed toward the other professors as he set Elizabett back on her feet.

Professors Kettleburn and Merrythought shook their heads and made shooing motions to the young couple. Professor Slughorn said that he couldn't care less, which earned him a nasty glare from the remaining three, and Professor Dumbledore said nothing, but simply stood affably silent, watching the pair carefully.

Elizabett slipped her hand through the crook in Thomas' arm and affectionately gave it a squeeze as she smile up at him. He gazed down fondly as he placed his hand over hers, and after a nod to her colleagues, they turned to stroll toward the Simmering Cauldron.

"Don't they make a lovely couple," Professor Merrythought sighed as they watched the pair leave.

"Handsome young man. Did you know she had a beau?" Professor Kettleburn innocently asked the group.

The other professors shook their heads "no".

Thomas held the heavy, wooden door of the restaurant open for his companion. "I'm afraid Hogsmeade has a rather meagre selection of good eating establishments," he began, "But this place does serve a wonderful turnip soup."

Elizabett chuckled. "So I've heard."

Finding a quiet table in the corner of the bustling room, Thomas courteously helped Elizabett remove her cloak and hung both his and hers on a nearby coat tree. He, then, held the chair for her to sit. Several seventh-year students gawked at seeing a teacher with a companion, and a couple of the girls motioned to their male counterparts that they wouldn't mind being treated like that either. The boys' attention, however, was soon diverted with the timely arrival of their lunch.

The remaining professors entered the establishment and found another table on the opposite side of the room. They wanted to give the couple some privacy while still being able to watch the proceedings.

"So, what were you doing with Father? It's not often you visit without your family," Elizabett questioned after the waitress left with their order.

"Actually, I wanted to speak with both of your parents," he casually replied as he absently fidgeted with his napkin.

"Really? Whatever for? Is the Ministry somehow involved?" Elizabett innocently asked as her father occasionally did consulting work there.

"Inadvertently," Thomas took a deep breath and placed his hands, palms down, on the smooth surface of the table. "Lizzie, how long have we known each other?" He smiled across at her.

"Oh, hmmm, I don't know. Forever?" she grinned as she rolled her eyes playfully.

"Have I ever acted inappropriately, offensively, or given you cause to mistrust me?" Such odd questions.

"Never," she suddenly grew serious, her brows furrowed in concern, "Has someone accused you of inappropriate behaviour? Do you need defence? A character witness? What's happened?"

Elizabett's concern drew the attention of several people in the establishment, many of whom had already been eavesdropping on the couple, and Thomas raised his hand to stop her. "No, nothing like that," he chuckled lightly as his cheeks flushed a pale shade of pink.

"Then, what?" she leaned forward lowering her voice.

"I, aaa…I…" Thomas started to reach across the table for Elizabett's hand.

"Two turnip soups with fresh rolls and two teas," the waitress interrupted as Thomas rapidly withdrew his arm, leaning back in his seat as the meal was served.

When the waitress left, Elizabett raised her left eyebrow at the flustered man who had picked up his spoon to stir the hot broth.

With a deep, cleansing breath, he looked up, twitched an uncertain smile, and said, "This shouldn't be so difficult."

Elizabett shook her head at him. "What are you talking about? We've been friends for as long as I can remember. You've told me things that I'm sure you've told no one else. Remember when we used to climb the willow in the backyard of my house, and sit up there for hours just talking?"

Thomas' tension eased. "When was that? Three years, four years ago?" he chuckled.

"Five, maybe," Elizabett played along. It was more like fifteen.

He relaxed and leaned his elbows onto the small, wooden table, this time successfully reaching across to stroke the back of Elizabett's hand. She returned the favour as their fingers lightly caressed each other.

"I was at your house to ask your parents' permission to court you," Thomas finally uttered after clearing his throat.

"Oh?" Elizabett straightened in her seat, but didn't pull her hand back from her friend. "And, what did they say?"

Thomas sat upright, chin held high, thumbs tucked under the lapels of his jacket, and did an excellent impersonation of Elizabett's father. "Well, my son," he began in Mr. Castlewood's deep voice, "you're a fine young man rising well in the Ministry. You've been a welcome part of this family ever since you were a lad. It would be our honour to have you as a son, but as much as it would please us…" he paused for effect, "we're not the ones to ask." Thomas grinned and reached for Elizabett's hand again. "My dear Lizzie, I care for you deeply and would be privileged if you would allow me to court you."

Before Elizabett could reply, a loud sigh sounded at a neighbouring table. "That was beautiful," a seventh-year girl gushed to her embarrassment.

Elizabett and Thomas turned their heads to see several nearby tables listening in, including the professors across the room who suddenly found their lunch very interesting.

Elizabett smiled at Thomas and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "You're my best friend, and this is something that I have often thought of, but it's also something I'd rather discuss without the audience," she nodded toward the students leaning in their direction when the couple lowered their voices.

Thomas grinned and nodded in agreement, and when their meal was done, they took a private stroll toward the edge of town.