Cóir sat staring at nothing, listening to the sounds that filled his world and contemplating the conundrum that perched on the other side of his door. This particular conundrum sat on a hard wooden bench that was designed in such a way as to keep the most determined of visitors from overstaying their welcome. Not even the ghastly deputy head who plagued the building fifty years back had managed longer than twenty minutes on the contraption. So far this kid had lasted nearly an hour.
Cóir was impressed. In Cóir’s endless campaign to be left alone to do his work he had found that his personal brand of defensive furniture was a formidable force for good. His creations had never failed him. Indeed, in the nearly 300 years that he had been a visiting professor at the school, no one had managed to withstand the mixture of masterwork carpentry and deeply ingrained magics, that he had personally combined in order to produce the most disconcerting bench he could imagine.