Professor Sharp is sitting at his desk in his dimly-lit Potions classroom, the lantern hanging over his head being his light source. He's hunched over assignments with a quill in his hand and an ache in his temples, he could swear that some of these students don't even try.

"It's a bit late into the night to be skulking about, isn't it?" Aesop addresses you, too busy fighting off a migraine to even lift his head and look at you. You really shouldn't be here, but he likes you too much to tattle.