“Is it that time already? My apologies, Lorraine. Thank you.” With a genteel nod, the rounded man waited until the door to the lecture hall had swung to a close behind the Magical Sciences professor before continuing on his slow walk down the hall. He was not unobservant enough that her wavering interest had passed his notice; her casual inquiry after his summer had clearly not been intended as an opening for conversation. However, he was making an effort to better connect with their staff and the events of his summer was a suitable starting point, so he had carried the weight of their conversation with ease. And he did appreciate her attentiveness to his answer in the minutes before her class began. Some members of the school’s faculty had less desirable manners.
For the record, Bellamy Fell had had a very successful summer. After diligent assessments in the spring, he had made the careful decision to redistribute his investment portfolio, and had seen such an increase over the following months in his selected stocks that he was able to arrange for an expansion to his second home in Ghent. The renovation was currently underway, and he would in fact be returning this weekend for a short trip to check on their progress (and make use of the staffed bar in the master suite - not that he would ever suggest such impropriety on school grounds, but it was a substantial improvement to his quarters at RMI).
In addition to this, he had allocated two weeks of holiday and taken his daughter on a guided tour of Silicon Valley, which included personal meetings at several key companies. The world of Muggle technologies was always valuable to stay on top of; investing in purely magical sources offered large gains at larger risk, while the Muggle stock market progressed in a more predictable pattern of accumulation, once you knew which numbers to focus on. At fourteen, Mona had an impressive insight, though at times she seemed to take more of an interest with the younger entrepreneurs on a… personal level, rather than the sage knowledge being shared by their financial specialists. She was becoming quite the young woman, much to Bellamy’s concern, and as she lacked a suitable maternal figure in her life, he had spent the evenings of their holiday holding interviews over Floo-call until he had secured an appropriate housekeeper. (Their previous housekeeper, an elderly male, was given a generous severance package to tide him over until he found work that better suited his physique and gender.)
Brushing a speck of lint off the shoulder of his finely pinstriped grey suit, and following this with a pat of his rich green tie - fastened with a double Windsor, of course - Bellamy took the left hall at the corner. It made for a longer walk back to his office, but it was his preferred loop, taking him past several of the nooks and crannies that some of the less respectful students seemed called to do unmentionable things in. He walked this route every day, when he had the time, and found himself again rewarded today when he heard faint noises coming from the door to the school theater. He paused a moment before pushing it open, mentally readying himself for whatever he might see within, whether that might be a poor imitation of classical ballet or students making improper physical contact.
Surprisingly, the auditorium was empty. Bellamy could still hear noises, however, and strode heavily down the steps, his polished shoes clicking as he crossed the stage. Opening the backstage door, he stared suspiciously around the props and costuming area. “Identify yourself,” he stated firmly, and continued in an authoritative tone, “This area is not meant for playing. Classes are in session, and I suggest you make a hasty departure, lest you find yourself in detention tonight.”