It's... Well. It's an office. There is a door and a desk and stationery and books. It is, for all intents and purposes, an office.

That's not to say that its occupant is a fan. The window is significantly smaller, and the room still retained the claustrophobic feel of its former use. Some easels, a ballet bar, a whole lot of art supplies and a curious amount of resin are hidden away behind an obnoxiously bright yellow partition and only the chess tables remain in plain view, because Ayana had found that she genuinely liked the aesthetic.

Did you know the Beauxbatons Arithmancy professor deeply dislikes yellow? It's quite fascinating. She also has a remarkable aversion to sharing. A fascinating woman.

Anyway. Professor Sissay's mahogany table is off on the other side of the extended storage room, in front of a large bookcase and an already suffering plant. There are two chairs in front of her desk, clean and comfortable looking and conjured entirely out of old sofa cushions. Be careful when you sit, the charms do wear off sometimes and the chair might turn back into the old dust ball it was fashioned out of. Deepest apologies to those who fall.

Ayana's office policy has not changed; knock and wait to be called inside. Please remember to make sure your uniform is in tip top shape before coming to see Professor Sissay. Compliments about the yellow partition are greatly encouraged.