Sorry it's taken me so long, but here finally goes…

Week of school was over, and it was what they called a weekend. Most of the students were happy the schoolwork was over, but for Geran it was odd. He had done the homework the day it was given due to Holban's advice and notifications of his father: do it as soon as you can or it just piles up.

Growing up in Riva, where most people were devoted to duty, and even those who weren't devoted, never really took a day off. There was no difference in Riva to the days of week – week was just a period to help count the days, and that was all. Here, weeks had, it seemed, a beginning day called Monday or Moon-day as Hermione had explained it's etymological origin, and TWO ending days, Saturday and Sunday, both of which were days off.

Geran was at a loss on what to do. He pondered it a while. Why couldn't they have lessons all seven days of week? These free days were somewhat pointless to Geran. He looked around the Gryffindor common room. Harry and Ron were playing some sort of board game, magically enchanted so they gave orders instead of moving the pieces themselves. And the pieces sometimes argued back to Harry, but never to Ron. Geran moved closer. "What kind of game is that?" he asked when Ron's piece mashed Harry's.

"Wizard's Chess," Ron replied. "I could teach you how to play later. Now I'm going to beat Harry."

"No, you're not," Harry told him brightly and told one of his pieces to move. It went obediently, without arguments for once.

Hermione was reading. Geran took a peek at the title: "The magic of numbers". He decided not to bother Hermione, and moved on to see what the others were doing. Some were doing homework; some others were playing or reading. Some girls were chatting with each other. Nothing to get Geran involved. He didn't know how to play; he had done his homework; he had nothing to read – and joining into a girls' chat was farthest from what he wanted to do. He could have talked with wolf, of course, except there was nothing to discuss. Geran had never felt so lonely and bored in his entire life. He sighed and decided to go up and meet with Holban.

The old Rivan had also decided to read, but laid down his book and stood up as soon as Geran entered. "How may I help, Geran?" Holban asked pleasantly.

"This weekend-thing is boring," Geran complained. "I can't think of anything to do."

"Well, I didn't invent it," Holban said, "but it gives us a chance to discuss things the Rivan way."

"What do you mean, the Rivan way?" Geran asked.

"No clocks," Holban replied, smiling. "That way there's the time and space for devotion."

"It's not like the other countries back home have clocks either," Geran countered. "They don't exist in the entire World".

"Ah, but think of it. Most would accept clocks to set more meetings and be more punctual. Then there would be the demand for more punctuality and more meetings. Everyone would be far too busy to have time for anything that really matters." Holban explained calmly. "If you try to cut time into little pieces, it's you who gets cut up by stress in the end, not having enough time."

"Do you think that's why they invented the weekend? To get a little rest from cutting up the time?"

"Yes. And they have vacations and that sort of things, too – longer periods of time off." Holban replied. "But humans being what they are, they've built scheduled times for vacations as well for some reason. Clocks just aren't good for people."

Geran was silent, letting the lesson sink in. Holban quietly seated himself, not wanting to disturb the process. They sat in silence, letting the time pass in between them. Their quiet thinking was, however, interrupted by Dammion's muttering.

"I'll go talk to that Albus Dumbledore about this," Dammion muttered, "two days with no lessons at all, what kind of school is this?"

"You won't go, Dammion," Geran told him in a surprisingly firm tone for one so young.

"And why not, Geran Keeper?" Dammion demanded.

"Because the Keeper's Heir told you not to," Holban told him calmly when Geran couldn't answer. "Besides, Albus and Aberforth have left Hogwarts for some urgent business."

Dammion blinked. Then he shrugged. "Well, Holban, if you say so," he yielded, "you're the one who's responsible for the young man's education."

Geran, though, felt miserable. Why had he been left speechless at Dammion's words? Why? Why Dammion so honoured Holban now?

Holban laid a hand on Geran's shoulder. "Don't worry about it, Geran," Holban said softly. "Your command was well presented and Dammion should have obeyed without question. You are the only Branded One here, after all."

"Well… why didn't it happen that way?" Geran asked. "And why did he suddenly yield to you?"

"For one thing, in this school, you're one of the students and I am one of the teachers. You are, due to being less than seventeen, considered under age in this world, or, a child." Holban began. "And you don't really want to be different than other students, do you?"

Geran shook his head. He didn't want to, but he was different.

"Dammion has adapted himself into this world of clocks and schedules. In this world, being well over seventeen, he's an adult. And children cannot give orders to adults. That's why he responded so rudely to you. But I was old back when he was a child, so here I am more of an adult than he is. In Riva it's a matter of calling to the service of the Orb not age that tells the difference between adult and a child – I myself, though I was older than any Rivan, was considered not much more than a child until I found my calling: as your teacher I serve the Orb."

"And Dammion?" Geran asked.

"He works as a scheduler and tries to make it his calling, but it's not. Not yet, anyway. Thus, in Riva, he would be more of a child than you are, as Keeper's Heir. Also, as he well knows, it is a grave insult to interfere with a calling."

"I see," Geran said. "What of me, then?"

"Your calling is clearly known, but not yet in full force. That puts you in-the-between. Acting by the calling you're to be honoured as an adult would, not acting by the calling you're to be treated as the child you act like."

Dammion had listened quietly to Holban's explanations. He knelt to Geran and apologised for his behaviour. "I shouldn't let this place make me forget the Rivan ways, Keeper's Heir," Dammion said quietly. "I apologise for my rudeness to you."

Weight had left Geran's heart. Happily he accepted Dammion's apology.