It's a dumb game but Cam feels that way about most sports and doesn't feel the need to weigh in.

Moon!

Fascinating. (She conjures a steady supply of air.)

Air supply and then Wheeeeeeee boing boing boing.

(Sinistra is holding perfectly still and possibly having a religious experience.)

. . . Cat form! Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee boing boing boing. Pity all those who have never seen the fabulousness of a humanly intelligent cat showing off in one-sixth gravity.

That's so cute but he will politely refrain from videotaping it. He makes air continuously as it disappears into the vacuum. Sits in the moon dust and makes mooncastles.

Eventually it's time to be an extremely dignified witch again. Everyone finishes up and heads back to the shuttle. 

"Thank you for the excursion; it was both pleasant and edifying. I have no objection to your bringing your NEWT students here in the future."

Wag wag. "I look forward to it. How many kids are in that level of the program now?" he asks, directing the question to Charity as the shuttle lifts off.

"Ten seventh years and eight sixth years. The class of '95 is getting into the last war's birth crunch and, well, it was never a popular class. Maybe you'll be able to change that in time to pick up the baby boom."

(Flitwick and McGonagall both look a bit more tired at the mention. Nineteen eighty-two and its sudden miraculous peace are about to stick the core subject teachers of nineteen ninety-three with absolutely massive classes.)

"Well, at least I'll be able to learn everybody's names. - speaking of, is it official policy that I have to have the kids call me Professor Swan, when I used to teach at the University of Washington I just let everybody call me Cam. Of course at the time some of them were older than me and also we were all Americans, but still."

McGonagall looks like she's eating a lemon, but, like, thoughtfully. 

"It is not official policy, but it is strongly traditional, and that level of informality may lead to difficulties with student discipline. Especially among the younger years, many of whom select Muggle Studies because they underestimate the complexity of the subject matter and expect it to be an 'easy O'. On the other hand, it is not one of the classes where a moment's inattention can lead to serious injury. You are welcome to introduce yourself as you like."

"And what do you all call each other?"

"Oh, we all use first names among ourselves when there aren't any students around. When there are students around we use surnames."

Burbage Charity smiles conspiratorially. "I had Minerva as my professor the whole time I was at Hogwarts and it took me until Christmas to stop awkwardly avoiding addressing her."

"It does seem like the obvious consequence of this policy!"

"That and only having the one school," says Flitwick.

"Nobody sending their kids to places on the Continent for the magical photography and painting programs or whatever?"

"Not at Hogwarts ages, no. Going abroad for apprenticeships after Hogwarts is more common, as is people from the continent coming here for them."

"A remarkably anticompetitive environment, but maybe the population doesn't support Montessori alternatives and Mandarin immersion charters... homeschooling, do people do that?"

"It's not unheard of, but it's fairly rare. Even if a parent was an excellent teacher in every subject, Hogwarts is where British wizards get to know each other, make friends, meet their future spouses . . . it would be very lonely, not to go."

"Similar arguments apply to Muggle homeschooling and yet people do it! I guess I don't know how many British people in the late twentieth century, specifically, do it."

"Hogwarts keeps records of every child born in the isles, and every child who turns eleven in them, and every child who attends, so it should be possible to find out."

"Oh, cool, a li'l research project if I get bored of beating my head against the Dementor problem."

"Dementor problem?" asks Flitwick with the tiniest hint of trepidation.

"Oh, nothing emergent! Just them, uh, existing. I suppose specifically that they both exist and have their present diet, I don't fundamentally object to spooky floaty cloakèd critters if they could be convinced to live on soy seasoned with ethically sourced donor joy and delight, perhaps as a drug-free antidote to manic episodes or something."