I duck out of the way as something slashes at me from the left, but I can't think. I didn't get any sleep last night and I'm not sure how to make it out of this twisted labyrinth when everything keeps moving. It's dark, I can hear things growling and moving outside my field of vision, and I have almost stumbled into the same abyss at least three times now. I rearranged the stones to walk across them before, but now I lost sight of them. Was I on the other side? Am I going in a circle?

I kneel down on the cold dungeon door and feel the edge of the abyss with my hands, but there are no rocks here now. Nothing I can use to get me safely across. Out in the distance, I can see a monster coming at me, its claws glinting in the darkness. Somehow the corridor to my left has vanished and it's just the abyss behind me, and the monster coming at me in front of me. I cast True Sight at it, but it really is a monster, not an illusion. I already wasted most of my magic uselessly transfiguring the rocks to make a makeshift bridge to take me across and I don't have enough magic left to teleport me or it to another part of the dungeon. I don't even think I have enough magic to make a shield. I sit in the dirt and close my eyes, holding my arms in front of my face in a defensive position, hoping it won't notice me, hoping that if I don't make any noise, it will go back the way it came.

I can feel tears start to sting in my eyes and I realize that I'm trembling. I've always aced any tests that they've put before me but I just can't figure out what to do here. I dig myself into the dirt and make myself as small as possible, hoping it won't notice me, hoping it won't notice me, hoping it won't-

I am hit by something long and blunt, and a sharp pain goes through me as I roll backwards from the force of impact. I reach out with one hand for the ledge, but it's not enough to hold my weight and I slip backwards into unrelenting darkness. I close my eyes and cry out. Before I hit the bottom, I look up into the face of…

…Professor Grabiner?

I immediately scoot back on instinct and hit the back of my head against a table. Oww. He sighs, and I can feel my lip trembling. No no no. Not like this. Just yesterday, Professor Grabiner had made me look like a fool in front of the entire class and then berated me for it afterwards. I was hysterical and my roommates went as far as to get Potsdam involved, but I told her that I could handle this by myself. Now I'm cowering in front of him like a child, my eyes brimming with tears. Way to show him that I'm a mature, capable adult.

"Here, here." He holds his hand out to help me up and I don't know why I take it. I brush my hair out of my face and sniff, trying to hold myself together. I refuse to look at him. To his credit, he waits patiently for me to recover myself.

"So what?" I snap at him. "Do I lose another ten demerits today? Sir?"

He sighs and gathers himself. "Miss Brown, I must apologize for my behavior yesterday. I was simply trying to reinforce a point, one that I think you now understand. You are a student of this institution and I had no right to treat you the way that I did. My actions were completely inappropriate and I apologize." He hesitates. "And I must award you back the ten merits I took from you yesterday."

"I don't care." I sit down in a chair and shake my head. My side is throbbing and I pull the edge of my shirt up to see a large purple bruise where I had been hit just below my ribcage. He reaches out to me, but I jerk my shirt down over the welt. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine," he says, just as irritably. I sigh and lift my shirt up a little bit, wincing as he lays his hand flat over the bruise. I'm expecting a jolt from a cold, clammy hand, but it doesn't come. His hands are surprisingly warm and I try not to notice it, turning my head away from him as he heals me.

"I'm not going to say thank you." I sulk bitterly as he steps away.

"Considering my manners yesterday, I'll forgive yours today." He smirks at me. Smirks. Like this is some kind of joke?

"I failed the test," I say. "So what happens next? Take the ten merits back and send me on my way?"

"I will let you keep your merits, but unfortunately you will have to attend detention with me on Friday night," he says.

"Friday night?" I blink at him. "No, no, no, that's the night of the Halloween dance." He shrugs like it doesn't matter and turns his back on me. "No!" I yell at him again. "No, I'm not going to detention on Friday night, not when this is your fault."

He turns back to face me, his jaw set, but I'm too angry to care. "My fault?"

"After what you put me through yesterday, I couldn't study, I didn't even sleep last night," I yell at him. "All night people were knocking on the door asking me what you'd done to me. I would have passed this test on any other day but today."

"You could have elected to take the test another day," he says simply, although there is a hint of anger in his voice. "But you chose to take the test today. And you failed. There will be no repercussions, no demerits, except that you must spend your Friday night in detention."

I grit my teeth in frustration and clench my fists. He looks alarmed and on edge, as if he's not sure if I'm going to attack him this time. "Why do you hate me so much?" I demand. "What did I ever do to you? I don't remember ever really even talking to you last spring, and then I don't see you over the summer and immediately you want to give me detention the minute you see me. Just like last year, when you gave me ten demerits when I bumped into you as a freshman. I wasn't even on this campus ten minutes and you were already punishing me for a silly mistake. And then when you found that stupid love letter on your desk, you didn't even give me a chance to explain, you just embarrassed me in front of the whole class and then kicked me out. And that's just two things in the first week, I'm pretty sure there's more I've blocked out because you are a mean, spiteful person."

I suddenly don't know what I'm saying or where this is really coming from, but it all comes pouring out anyway. "You know, I've always felt sorry for you. You have no friends and no family and I always thought it was because you pushed people away for some deep personal reason but now I see it's because you're a jerk. You don't push people away; they push you away because they don't need your negativity in their life. The only person who I've ever even seen talk to you is Professor Potsdam and that's because she is so positive she likes everybody, but she is the only person who could probably ever stand to be around a Grinch like you. So go on, keep ruining everyone's day. Keep making everybody as miserable as you are. Look at me. You've succeeded. I. Am. Miserable. And it's all your fault." I snarl at him, but he doesn't even flinch. The expression on his face hasn't changed. It's like he's a robot. Maybe he is a robot. That, or just completely dead inside.

"Oh." I start to walk away, then spin around to face him. "And I don't know why you hate Thomas. Maybe he bumped into you out in the quad on his first day too. I don't know, but you don't seem to like me spending time with him. I don't know how you found out he's taking- was taking me to the dance Friday night, but I assume that's the reason why you want me to spend it with a miserable old goat like you instead of at the dance having fun with my friends instead of having a normal Saturday detention."

He doesn't say anything. He doesn't move. His expression doesn't change. I wonder idly if this is a learned behavior, but I am quickly running out of steam. "I guess I'll see you Friday night," I snap at him. He doesn't move. He doesn't say anything. "And-" I hesitate, then decide to just go for it. "-fuck you. Sir." I fake curtsy at him before I push past him and open the door to leave the classroom.

The door is only halfway open when it hits someone and I realize that there is a crowd of students outside, some waiting for the exam, some attracted by the noise. Oh no. I let my face drop and quickly stride past them as fast as I can, my hands clenched into fists swinging at my sides as I walk.

I don't know where to walk to. I don't know where to go. Suddenly I feel like I'm a convict on the run. Am I going to get in trouble for that? I did technically yell at and curse out a professor. I can't remember if that's a punishable rule or not. What will they do? Will they wipe my memories and force me to go home to my parents? My palms start to sweat. I walk into a shade of trees safely hidden by the quad and brush my hair out of my face. "Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no." I start to chant softly to myself. My eyes are brimming with tears again and I can feel my hands shaking. What had come over me? Was I hexed? Cursed? Did I really mean everything that I had just said?

"Tori?" I hear a familiar voice approaching me, but I just turn away and continue walking in circles.

"I have to go back," I say to no one in particular. "I have to go back and-and-and apologize. I- holy shit I cursed out a teacher."

"And it was amazing." Thomas steps into my field of sight and takes my shaking hands in his, pulling me down to sit with him on the grass. "He's a jerk. I heard what you said. Every word of it was true."

"Every word?" I repeat blankly. "You heard all that?"

"Well," he hesitated. "It was between classes. There was a fair amount of people in the halls…"

"Oh no." I let go of his hands and bury my face in my knees. "I'm going to get expelled."

"Psh, for that?" he asks. "No, not expelled. Someone might give you a medal, maybe. I heard he was acting like more of a jerk than he was last year. He had it coming to him."

"I need to apologize," I say quickly. "I just…I was really looking forward to the dance Friday night, and then when he said I had detention, I just…snapped."

"Wait, what?" Thomas asks.

"The dance," I repeat. "He's giving me detention Friday night so I can't go to the dance. That's why I got so mad."

A flash of anger crosses Thomas's face. "That's not fair. It's not right that he gives you special detention to miss the dance instead of normal Saturday detention."

"That's what I said," I snort. "It's not fair, but there's nothing I can do about it."

"There is something." He turns to me sharply. "Grabiner hates me but a few of the professors have taken a liking to me. And they hate him. They really hate him. If you want I can try to take care of him for you."

"Take care of him?" I ask slowly. "What do you mean by that?"

Thomas laughs and the dark look that crossed his face before is gone. "It's nothing; I just meant maybe I can talk to the other teachers about trying to get you out of detention Friday night. I just wanted to sound dramatic and protective. I know he almost hurt you yesterday and I don't want him hurting you on Friday."

"Thanks, but he's not going to hurt me," I say. "Potsdam wouldn't let that happen."

"Anyway," Thomas takes one of his hands in mine. "If you need anything, anything at all, I'm here for you. Okay?"

"Thanks." I force a smile in his direction. It's the most I can manage for now. I need to save up all the energy I can for the second inquisition that I'm going to face when I return to the dorms – although this time, this one really is my fault.

They were smiling. Laughing. Giggling. Oohing. A bunch of obnoxious, childish faces gawking up at him. They had heard her. The whole school had heard her. Without waiting to finish the exams, he teleported out of the room and into the hallway outside his bedroom. He entered quickly and slammed the door shut behind him with deliberate force.

He was mad. Angry. Furious. The levels of anger increased with each passing second. Her words scratched at him like knives. She thought she was cursing out a bitter teacher. She had no idea that she was really cursing out her husband. He slumped down into his desk chair and closed his eyes. He remembered when she had stood in this very room during the May Day ball, when he had kissed her for the first time, when she said that she liked spending time with him. When she talked about how she was able to overlook all of his negative qualities in favor of the positive ones he rarely let show.

Did she really mean that then? Or did she really mean what she said now? He thought about what Tori had said today. He thought about what Potsdam said yesterday. That this was all his fault. That his stupidity had put an innocent student at risk. This wasn't the first time his stupidity had cost someone their life. It's exactly how Violet died so many years ago. Because he was stupid. Because he didn't want to ask for anyone's help, because he thought he knew better. Potsdam knew better. Potsdam knew him for the selfish coward he really was. His walls could keep everyone else out, except for her. And Tori.

He thought about how he had been treating her this year. Was it really much worse than how he had treated her last year? He hadn't even remembered that he has assigned her ten demerits on her first day, or how that must have seemed to her, a young, impressionable girl off at school by herself for the first time. He regretted it, just as he regretted every time he had ever been cruel to her. And there were many times, times that she couldn't even remember. Maybe she was right. Maybe at first the walls had gone up to protect himself from ever letting anyone in so nothing would hurt as bad as Violet's death had, but had it made him cruel as a result? He knew that he made some students cry, especially the freshman, but he always assumed it was to make them stronger, to scare them into remembering things they should never forget so they never got hurt. But, then again, he had never seen anyone cry like Tori had cried yesterday, and the feeling he got in his stomach realizing he was the one that made her that upset felt like swallowing asphalt.

There was a knock on the door and for a split second he almost hoped it was Tori before he pushed that thought away. She hated him now, absolutely hated him. Whatever she had felt for him that summer was clearly a passing thing, and it was gone now, completely extinguished. He had to admit, he had been growing fond of her, but he didn't love her, and as soon as she recovered her memories they could proceed with the severance and erase the whole thing from her mind. He could only imagine her disgust at finding out that she was actually married to someone she loathed and despised so much.

The knock came again, then, "Hieronymous, open this door before I blast it down. I don't care what protections you have on it, you know I will."

He sighed and flicked his wrist, allowing the door to swing open. Potsdam entered and closed the door behind her quickly. She had only been in his room a handful of times, but it always looked the same. No photographs, no decorations, just basic furniture. And books. Lots of books.

"I'd ask how you were feeling, but-" She deliberately made the sign to show that she was using an empathy spell, and he made no motion to stop her. "-it's as I expected."

She had never seen him like this before, well, not since Violet. He was completely despondent, numb. It wasn't the embarrassment of being overheard by the entire school, it wasn't the rejection and harsh telling-off he received from his wife; it was the fact that he was forced to consider that she may have been right. For the first time he was considering, that just maybe, this sheltered, angry existence of his was only a protective cover to hide the sorrow and loneliness he really felt. And he had no one to blame for that but himself.

And somewhere, buried beneath the new stuff, was a flicker of disappointment. He was right, he didn't love Tori. It hadn't gotten that far yet, there hadn't been enough time, but he had been growing fond of her. He was growing attached to her, opening up to her, and then she was snatched away from him. At the core of what made Professor Hieronymous Grabiner who he was was a constant nagging fear not to let anyone close so he would never have to feel that loss ever again.

Professor Potsdam knew all of this, felt all this, and it was her pity for him that allowed him to carry on, pretty much unchecked, all of these years, skipping social events, ignoring birthdays and holidays, being rude and discourteous to anyone who crossed his path. She had hoped that Tori might have been able to change that. She was a strong girl, exceptionally bright, a bit mature for her age and had a nagging, stubborn sense of loyalty. It was that last quality that compelled her to encourage Tori to make their arrangement permanent. Hieronymous had been determined from the day of the wedding not to "ruin one more day of that girl's life than he had to," but she had hoped that it would have only been a matter of time until he realized that he could have a deep connection with another human being without being a detriment to them. Now, with Tori's happy memories of him gone, it seemed as if that chance was slipping.

"Take tomorrow off," Potsdam said quietly as she headed for the door. She shut it behind her with a faint click, leaving him locked alone with his thoughts.