The Headmaster's office was a remarkably tidy place. The desk was devoid of the normal office-related hodgepodge, empty of stacks of papers and quill nubs spilling from desk drawers. It was especially odd considering the former occupant of this office.

Spread across the room were a few signs as to the disposition of the man in question. Heavy coffee mugs and steins perched atop one bookshelf, the shelves beneath lined with travel guides, language books, and Dark Magic and defense tomes. A few photographs of the Headmaster and people of varying nationalities sat on a low shelf behind his desk, under the large window that often hung open to the grounds.

The only real oddity in the office, or the only one in plain site, was a foe glass. The contents were murky, although occasionally faces rose to the surface that looked vaguely familiar, but it disappeared before recognition. The Headmaster mostly ignored it.

You absolutely may not enter this office unless given the password or given access by the Headmaster. If you RP yourself here without following instructions, your post will be unceremoniously deleted.

After ascending the stairs to the door of Tate's office, Jake found himself kind of nervous. He held his breath without realising he was doing so, and briefly considered running back again.

But he was here; may as well make the journey worth it.

Releasing his held breath, Jake knocked on the door gently and shoved his hands into his pockets.

ooc :: something in the post at the gargoyle mentioned a door opening. I was confused so... I'll play like this one is closed. There's logic in that reasoning... somewhere.

"Come in!" Tate was seated at his desk, perusing several rolls of parchment, but he glanced up at the door in expectation of his visitor.

Definitely too late now.

Gulping, Jake pushed on the door slightly and poked his head in, looking quite pale and a little nervous. He wanted to tell the man why he was here... to talk about last term and stuff, but he found he was a little afraid to talk. Probably because everytime he spoke someone showed up and mocked his speech.

Pffft.

Only half in the doorway, Jake peered around the door at the entirety of the room. It was so different from when Bontecou was there, but he was gone... and whose fault was that? Jake was pretty sure that, after a few conversations last term... that...

Don't THINK about it.

"Ssssir..."

Okay, so maybe he was talking now.

"Have a seat, Mr. Upstead. I'm just finalizing some instructions for the house elves. We have some very exciting events this term, you know? They need assistance." He scribbled a last few words before tossing the whole parchment into the fireplace, where it disappeared in a flash of green flame.

"Now... how are you, lad?"

Wondering vaguely what kind of exciting events would be held this term (and of cause already thinking of anything that could go wrong), Jake stepped fully into the office and clicked the door shut behind him. As Tate finished up with whatever he was writing, Jake moved into the room, stepping precariously, as though the floor might collapse should he step too heavily.

Lowering himself into the first chair he came to, Jake let his eyes fall on the books in the bookshelves, and he knew at once that this would be the place he'd spend the majority of his time looking at, seeing as he avoided eye contact.

"I'm... fuhh-ffffine, sir. Yuhh-you?" Jake replied quietly, fiddling with a loose thread from the sleeve of his robes. "At the fffeast you sssaid I could c-c-come tuhh-talk to you about luhh-last term."

My fault.

Ohhhh, he was way too nervous right now.

"I did say that," Tate agreed. "And I hope you know that my office is always open to you when you need to talking, barring any other emergencies or other students needing to talk, of course."

He leaned back and propped his feet up on the desk. "So tell me what's on your mind. How are you feeling about what went down last term? Do you want a butterbeer?"

Nodding slowly, Jake let his eyes flick from the bookshelves to the Headmaster's face and back again, whilst he continued to tug on the loose thread in his sleeve. The more he thought about last term, the more he realised he didn't... want to think about it, if that made any sense.

"I'm ffffine, sssir," the boy repeated, showing the signs that he was starting to get a little 'Mad-eye' paranoia. Kind of. Plus, he had a weird thing with his taste buds after a spell a certain professor put on him; nice things tasted horrible, and horrible things tasted nice.

It was annoying.

"It... it wwwas muhh-my fffault," Jake spoke, voice going even more quiet than before. That was what Lawson had said, after all. All your fault. "And thuhh-those k-k-kids who wwwere killed... they wwwere... wuhh-was it rrreally muhh-mmm-..."

He couldn't quite say the simple word; 'me'.

"No," Tate said slowly, tipping back upright in his chair. He gave one longing glance to the empty coffee mug perched on one corner of his desk before turning his attention back to the boy seated across from him. "No, Mr. Upstead, I can assure you that what happened is no more your fault than it was anyone else who was Imperius'd. Do you think any of those other children who fought each other are to blame? The theory is you didn't act alone... is your partner to blame? Is the Head Girl to blame for being kidnapped?"

There were many parties involved, but no one was to blame except the blasted Frenchman.

"B-b-but..." Jake bit his lip, writhing his hands somewhat. "I duhh-didn't tttell anyone... Luhh-lawson... he sssaid it wuhh-was my... my fffault..."

The boy stared into his lap, felt his expression darken, making him glad he wasn't looking straight at the Headmaster. "I'm sssuh-so over tttrying to do the ruhh-right thhhing. Suhh-so far it hhhas me huhh-hated... b-b-bullied... wwweak." Jake paused here, thinking hard as though trying to tell Tate the link between all of this. "Vvvulnerable. Puhh-people think I'm sssuch a pppush-over."

Looking up, the hard look in Jake's eyes became clear. "Nnnot any more."

"Professor Lawson was wrong, or frustrated. It isn't your fault," Tate gave Jake a steady look. One glance at the foe glass. Another steady look.

"It's easy to choose to do wrong in this world. Nothing is fair, we never seem to get the things we want or deserve, and as if fate itself is laughing at us, those who seem the worst type often get what they dont' deserve. In the short term, at least." Tate mused over that. "I come up against this all the time, in my last career and apparently in this one. The harder thing is to remain true to yourself and to remain proud of the man you are becoming. The harder thing is do good without any benefit to yourself in the short term."

He leaned back and steeped his hands together. "I think well enough of you that I don't believe you can hurt people on purpose, no matter how idiotic they may be."

Heh.

Jake still believed it was his fault, but... it was like he was getting over it almost. Like... he didn't mind... or something.

Leaning back in the chair with a small sigh of resignation, Jake stared thoughtfully into space. This wasn't the first time he had wondered what the heck he'd got himself into.

"I bbbelieve I c-c-can," the boy replied softly and quietly at the last statement from Tate. What was it his parents said? "I c-c-can do anything if I pppput my mmmind to it."

Hmmm.

Closing his eyes, Jake tried to clear his mind for a moment, just to work himself out. This was getting insane. He couldn't think.

Realising he was, once again, saying too much, Jake sat up and opened his eyes, trying to act as though he hadn't said anything out of the ordinary. "Guhh-guess I'm jjjust c-c-curious ab-about how wwwizards go buhh-bad..."

Good save?

"Son, I'm going to tell you straight. If you give up and actively seek to hurt someone, you're out. Detention, suspension, expulsion. Take your pick... you might not care about the consequences of selfish living, but I do. I won't brook harmful behavior." A steely look glinted in Tate's dark eyes. If the boy was testing him, he'd understand immediately where the boundaries were. Surely he wasn't so pathetic and weak that he thought dark magic was an appropriate response...?

"Good wizards don't go bad on a decision one time. They compromise, over and over. They think 'this one time, it won't be bad to use this spell for my own gain.' And then the next time, the decision is easier. And then the next and the next, until they are steeped in selfish decisions and dark magic."

"Dddon't call me 'son'," Jake said as soon as he had an opportunity to speak. "Ppplease."

Maybe he didn't show it, but that seriously made him want to put his fist through a wall or something, being called 'son' by someone who wasn't his dad. Still, he sat quietly and contemplative, arms crossed, in his chair as he listened to Tate. His eyes got overly bright at the harshness, and he knew it was stupid to cry.

Jeez, you kill a couple a people and get reassurance. You hint that you can't be bothered with the good side of magic and BAM!

After a few moments of silence, Jake blinked to clear his blurry eyes and stood up at once. "I thhhink I should luhh-leave now," he said, voice coming out quite thick as he felt the need to swallow a lump in his throat. People always reacted super badly. It wasn't right, it was only a suggestion.

And now look.

Tears.

Great.

"I think you're taking personally the fact that I merely said I won't let anyone get hurt in my school. I'm not suggesting you would do such a thing, but I'm letting you know that this school is a safe place. We're going to turn those bully Slytherins into good citizens, but they're still babies. Brats. Unmolded snakes who need shaping."

Tate wasn't about to force Upstead to stay in his office and chat, especially since the boy seemed to be an emotional wreck. "Come back and talk to me again if you'd like a friendly ear."

"I'm nnnot taking anythuhh-thing pppersonally," Jake insisted, taking a breath and running his hand through his hair. So technically he WAS, but you know... he really had assumed that the man was saying he would actually try and hurt someone at school, even after the whole mess that happened when he never actually DID anything, even though he did.

"You c-c-can't chhhange a buhh-bully," the boy sniffed, wiping one eye as he brought his hand back down. Shaking his head, Jake moved back around the chair and towards the door. "I'll ssssee you llllater, sir."

And with that last tearful comment, Jake pulled open the door and abruptly left, before he could be asked to call anyone else up or to talk more or anything.

This hadn't helped; he just needed time.

Tate opened his mouth to speak and the boy was already gone. Well. And you're dismissed. Fine.

"Let the next one in," he spoke aloud.

Entering the Headmaster's office this time around was a lot less stressful than the first time. With a weak smile he approached the desk, being careful to avoid the carpet edge he had tripped on last time.

"Headmaster....I...sorry if you're busy I can come back later." That wasn't exactly what he had been planning on saying, and while his questions felt important, he didn't want to disturb the man. He knew things got crazy busy.

"Ah, Mr. Dakest. Come on in and have a seat," he gestured to the chair. "I'd like to offer you coffee, but the house elves are lax. Perhaps a butter beer?"

Alright, so now was as good a time as any. Shaking his head polietly, he moved to sit in the chair across from Tate. "I would accept, but unfortunately my allergies to butterbeer keep me from doing so. Thank you though."

Shifting to a more comfortable postion, Sabel let his eyes slide around the room momentarily before returning to Tate. "It seems like a quiet start to the semester. No points needing to be deducted from the broccoli. Always a good sign."

"I worry about the broccoli. It might rise up against us and force it's tiny-tree-like wrath upon us," Tate stared at the empty coffee mug again. He needed coffee.

"I managed to keep you alive last term, Mr. Dakest. Does that earn me some credit?"

All at once, the humor seemed to be gone from the room. With the weight of memories, he looked down at his hands, his voice falling a little quieter. "It does. And...I feel like I owe you a lot for that. I do apologize, for my behavior at the beginning of last semester. You are an honourable man, Headmaster. I do not question that."

"I don't hold it against you, lad. You shouldn't blithely trust anyone, especially not on the grounds that they are merely authority figures. And considering my own rather inappropriate sense of humor... I think all can be forgiven between us," Tate responded. It would be petty and ridiculous to hold on to any grudges, especially with a student.

Sabel glanced back up with a small smile. "Indeed."

Even after their first encounter, he had found a deep set respect for the man. More so during the last part of the semester. Speaking of which... "You are a very knowledgeable man, Headmaster, and you have a good head between your shoulders. I've never found reason to hold a grudge or hard feelings against you for anything, only respect."

He was rambling. Shaking his head, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and glanced down at the carpet under his feet, suddenly realizing how short the chair seemed to his long legs. "Which...was why I was wondering if I could talk to you, about the end of the term....I know I should leave what happened in the past in the past, but, that seems easier said than done."

He gestured with one hand. "Sure. Ask away. I'll reserve the right to refuse to answer if there is some sort of security issue, but otherwise, I'll answer as best I can."