Fic: Staff Infection - for Flaminia_X
Title: Staff Infection
Author: brighty18
Recipient: flaminia_x
Rating: PG (at most)
Highlight for Warnings: * Crack!fic, near-gen!fic, outside character POV, Parliamentary Procedure, minor OC’s (including Diana Ixchup, Astronomy Professor and Beauford Furpark, Ancient Runes Professor), professorial bickering, Argus Filch, implied musical McGonagall, and brief mentions of singing silverware and the over-consumption of alcohol…*
Word Count: Just over 2,900 (sorry)
Summary: Minerva McGonagall hates staff meetings, but there are other things she hates even more. That said, she’s quite willing to risk her reputation for those she believes in. But will the Marauders ruin the Christmas feast and make her eat her words?
Author's notes: Highlight for prompts: *2. Minerva has a bit too much holiday eggnog at the Hogwarts holiday feast/Yule Ball/whatever event works in this context. Hilarity ensues. I wonder who's responsible? And 3. A look behind-the-scenes at the Hogwarts staff meeting in which the faculty and staff plan this year's Yule Ball/holiday feast and try to Marauder-proof it. A Filch cameo would be appreciated! *
Happy Holidays, flaminia_x I tried to squeeze in as many of your prompts and favorite things as possible, so I hope this pleases! Enjoy!
Minutes of Hogwarts Staff Meeting: December 15th, 1975
Professors Present: Cuthbert Binns, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Filius Flitwick, Beauford Furpark, Diana Ixchup, Silvanus Kettleburn, Minerva McGonagall, Horace Slughorn, Pomona Sprout, and Septimus Vector III.
Staff Members Present: Argus Filch, Rolanda Hooch, Irma Pince, and Poppy Pomfrey
Minutes: The minutes of the previous meeting were approved as read. Silvanus Kettleburn commended Minerva McGonagall on her “amazing efficiency with note taking.”
Old Business:
Diana Ixchup updated the staff on the status of the anti-student wards in the Astronomy Tower. Apparently, they failed again, for she caught two unnamed Gryffindor males snogging in her classroom three times in the last month. Argus Filch suggested castration as punishment, but was quickly voted down. Filius Flitwick kindly agreed to help Diana set-up new wards.
Horace Slughorn presented yet another detailed account of the ongoing anti-Slytherin sentiment by the Gryffindor House. This particular incident involved a so-called prank in which one of his favorite students, Severus Snape, was turned a bright fuchsia. The spell lasted over twenty-four hours. Beauford Furpark suggested that, at the very least, it finally gave the boy some healthy colour. Irma Pince told Beauford to shut his gob. Beauford claimed he was only joking and reluctantly apologized. Horace was quite sure that a quartet of Sixth Year Gryffindor boys calling themselves “Marauders” (and otherwise known as Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, and James Potter) were to blame. Silvanus Kettleburn agreed that he, too, had noticed said boys engaged in pranks against Slytherins. Argus Filch suggested public flogging and perhaps a good tar-and-feathering on top of it all. Poppy Pomfrey slapped Argus causing a slight kerfuffle lasting nearly ten minutes. Headmaster Dumbledore restored order via a Tickling Spell.
New Business: The Holiday Feast
Albus Dumbledore announced that, since so few students would be remaining at Hogwarts over the holidays, an additional (or early) Holiday Feast was being planned and would be held the day of final classes. Horace Slughorn protested, claiming that this conflicted with his annual Slug Club Soirée. Rolanda Hooch and Pomona Sprout spoke up in favor of Dumbledore’s suggestion, citing it as a boost to student morale. Argus Filch brought up the possibility of Marauder-based disturbances…
Minerva stared down at the modified Quick Quotes Quill in front of her and wondered how in bloody hell she’d ended-up as recording secretary in this house of fools. “Honestly,” she whispered under her breath, “most of you people are worse than the students.”
Granted, her students were no angels. Just last week she’d caught James Potter in the Prefects’ Bathroom casting a rather insalubrious spell on his own genitals. Though he’d claimed it was intended to impress Lily Evans, Minerva had her suspicions that it was really an Engorgement Charm in response to some Slytherin’s Shrinking Hex. Still, she hadn’t been sure (and she certainly hadn’t wanted to look) so she’d given him a week’s detention plus a stern lecture about unnecessary body modification. Not that she really knew if it were necessary or not, mind you.
And then there were the other three. Pettigrew was merely a follower, but Black and Lupin were in a class by themselves. Still, despite the myriad rule violations, the pranks, the floods, and the explosions, Minerva found she had a soft spot for the boys. And it wasn’t simply that Black was charming - which he undoubtedly was. Nor was it Remus’ darling innocence - which she strongly suspected might just be an act. No, it was the fact that, in some secret recess of her soul, Minerva found herself embroiled in a bizarre combination of pity, envy, and admiration for the pair.
Neither boy had a fair shake in life. Black’s parents were undeniably awful. In fact, his dreadful cow of a mother was responsible for the one and only time Minerva had lost her composure in her long academic career. Shortly after Sirius’ Sorting, Mrs. Black had requested a meeting with the Headmaster and the Head of Gryffindor House in order to, in her words, “sort out this travesty.” Walburga had looked down her nose at Minerva and snorted, “I simply cannot bear the thought of Sirius and his nasty, Bloodtraitor, Mudblood friends cavorting unsupervised in your House of Filth.” Seeing red (and not just Gryffindor red) Minerva had responded with an equally virulent tirade ending with the phrase, “and you can take your bigotry and shove it up your arse!” As at staff meetings, Albus had soothed ruffled feelings with unexpectedly pointless humor and a few Confundus Charms, but he still teased her about her outburst from time to time. On one level, Minerva had seriously considered Obliviating herself to wipe the incident clean from her brain, but on another, she was quite proud. Sirius, despite being cheeky and an undeniable pain in the arse, was actually quite brave and intelligent and open-minded - and Minerva swore to support his rebellion against his horrifying family with her last dying breath. At least, unlike the majority of the Blacks, Sirius could think for himself. House of Filth, indeed!
Still, she did wish that Sirius knew how to behave like a civilized human being rather than a rampaging pixie on butterbeer. Merlin, but the boy could try a woman’s soul.
And then there was Remus Lupin.
Like everyone else on staff, Minerva McGonagall was well aware of Lupin’s lycanthropic condition. She’d been present when Dumbledore had made the announcement. (And what a staff meeting that had been! Filch’s nose had required four healing spells, made worse by the fact that Poppy, who’d landed the first blow, flatly refused to help heal the man she referred to as a “narrow-minded arse.”) At the time Minerva had been privately reticent, but she’d publicly supported her Headmaster - and she was now glad that she did. Remus Lupin had proved to be a model student: unfailingly kind, polite, and diligent. He always turned his homework in on time and, unlike his comrades, rarely caused audible disruptions in class. Obviously, this raised mild suspicion in Minerva’s mind - nobody could hang about with Potter and Black and be that angelic - but she loved him nonetheless.
Of course, she’d pitied Lupin at first. Like Black, he was somewhat of an outcast in certain circles. But, also like Black, he was quick-witted, adaptive, and unexpectedly good-hearted. Initially, she’d been quite surprised that the four boys had bonded so closely - and she’d been even more astounded when rumors began flying about that Black and Lupin were in some kind of romantic relationship. But ever since the time she’d come upon them in the Hospital wing, Black’s sleeping form curled protectively around Lupin’s broken body, she’d found herself realizing that their relationship was somehow right.
Poppy Pomfrey was correct: Lupin made Black a kinder person and Black made Lupin a more confident one. Beauford, of course, old friend of Black’s uncles that he was, approved wholeheartedly of the relationship, and Minerva was quite sure that those “accidental incidents” in which he “inadvertently” left his classroom door unlocked were neither as accidental nor inadvertent as he claimed. Still, the boys had so much against them that it was somehow good that they were supported - albeit illegally. And as long as she was not the one responsible for the bending of a rule, she could sometimes manage to pretend not to notice.
No, the more she thought about it, Minerva McGonagall did not altogether pity Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. In fact, she almost envied them. Whatever they had going between them, it was special. She should be that lucky. Rather then meeting the man of her dreams as she’d once hoped, Minerva now found herself surrounded by what she privately considered to be a maelstrom of anger, ineptitude, and insanity. Eight male staff members and most were mad, corpulent, gay, or some dreadful combination of the above. Hell, Cuthbert Binns was not even alive. “No,” thought Minerva bitterly, “despite their backgrounds, Black and Lupin are really quite fortunate to have each other.”
Suddenly, Horace slammed his chubby palm on the table and the quill before her gave an affronted squeak, startling Minerva back to the present. “They should not be allowed to attend!” cried the portly Potions Master. “They’ll certainly ruin the feast for the rest of the students!”
“Yes, yes,” added Irma Pince, brow furrowed with worry. “So many rules have been violated! Remember the flaming pumpkin incident? The Opera Potion? The time those shiny little fairy things ate a boy’s clothing and…”
“Oh, it ‘twas all in good fun, Irma,” broke in Beauford. “No one was ever hurt.” He turned to Minerva with a grin, “And your rendition of ‘Der Holle Rache,’ was truly outstanding, my dear!”
Minerva opened her mouth to protest, but, realizing that she had no valid point to make, quickly snapped it shut. She shuddered every time she recalled the Marauders’ little prank last Halloween. Opera, indeed! She hated singing. Still, there was no logical reason to exclude the boys simply on the premise that they might cause trouble. That violated every ounce of fairness and loyalty in Minerva’s body - not to mention the very spirit of Wizarding Law.
Argus Filch jumped up excitedly. “I say we not only ban them from the feast, but lock them in the dungeons as well! I believe I still have some magicked thumbscrews left over from the good old days when we were still allowed to…”
“I highly doubt that the use of thumbscrews is appropriate at the holidays,” said Dumbledore softly. “And we can hardly punish them for something they’ve not yet done.” He brushed an imaginary speck of dust from the sleeve of his dark-violet robes and stared pointedly at the squirming Caretaker.
“Besides, they mean well,” added Poppy Pomfrey. “And, you know, their worst deeds are always done in retaliation for previous wrongs or in protection of their friends.”
Filius drummed his fingers upon the table and nodded excitedly. “Well, you have a point, Poppy. Those Marauder boys do seem to mean well. Still, we can’t have them turning things turquoise and setting things aflame. How about a few simple Anti-incineration Charms and wards against mis-used Potions?”
“Why don’t we incinerate them?” growled Filch, eyes glowing with a manic pleasure. “Burn them at the stake! It could be a glorious bonfire.”
Minerva sighed and silently gritted her teeth. She loathed staff meetings (considering them the ultimate waste of her precious time), but frankly she hated Argus Filch even more. The man was disgusting: crass, mean-tempered, and his personal hygiene certainly left much to be desired. In fact, in Minerva’s opinion, his only saving grace was his devotion to his cat - and even that relationship made her feel somewhat uneasy. What did go on between those two, anyway?
“THERE WILL BE NO STAKE BURNINGS, NO THUMBSCREWS, AND NO PRANKS!” she roared, surprising even herself with her own vehemence. “AND THOSE BOYS WILL DO NOTHING AND I MEAN NOTHING UNTOWARD AT THE FEAST. I SWEAR IT ON MY HONOR.”
Twelve pairs of eyes swiveled toward her in surprise. (Predictably, Binns continued to stare fixatedly at the ceiling, muttering about The Great Carrot Blight of 1743.) “Why, Minerva,” began Rolanda Hooch with a shocked smile, “I’ve never seen you so riled.”
“I’m not riled,” snapped Minerva, fully aware that her cheeks were undoubtedly flaming red. “I’m simply defending the honor of Gryffindor and pointing out the illogic of banning innocent students for something they might do, rather than have done.”
“I highly doubt that Black was ever innocent,” interrupted Diana Ixchup, obviously thinking back to what she’d seen on the floor of her dark classroom.
Minerva ignored her. “Be that as it may,” she continued testily. “I will personally see to it that nothing unseemly takes place at the Holiday Feast. And if it does, I’ll… I’ll…”
“You’ll what, Minerva?” asked Dumbledore with a twinkle of a smile. “You’ll once again serenade us with your phenomenal vocal ability?”
Minerva could have sworn that he gave her a wink. “Fine,” she spat, “if that’s what it takes to convince you all.”
“Wait!” shouted Argus. “I still don’t trust this little scenario one bit.” He shook his head and, to Minerva’s great disgust, reached beneath the table to scratch his nether regions. “How can you be so sure they’ll behave, Professor? I still vote for the thumbscrews.”
“Thumbscrews aside, perhaps a few Charms or Wards would be helpful,” suggested Slughorn. Across the table, several heads nodded in agreement.
“Moving on, is there any other New Business?” asked Dumbledore sternly. He slammed his gavel upon the podium with a smart rap, signaling that the discussion had come to an unquestionable end.
*** ** *** ** ***
Minutes of Hogwarts Staff Meeting: January 6th, 1976
Professors Present: Cuthbert Binns, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Filius Flitwick, Beauford Furpark, Diana Ixchup, Silvanus Kettleburn, Minerva McGonagall, Horace Slughorn, Pomona Sprout, and Septimus Vector III.
Staff Members Present: Argus Filch, Rolanda Hooch, Irma Pince, and Poppy Pomfrey.
Minutes: The minutes of the previous meeting were approved as corrected after Septimus Vector reiterated that he’d, in fact, said nothing at all the entire previous meeting.
Old Business: The Holiday Feast:
Horace Slughorn brought up the subject by recalling the “terror” of the Slytherin first-years at the use of Christmas tree-based fireworks. Beauford Furpark told him to shove off, adding that the singing silverware was quite delightful and that the four students (who were currently harvesting magical barnacles off the Giant Squid as a form of detention) had actually managed to lighten things up. Dumbledore agreed and noted that the fireworks had been “quite tasteful, all things considered.” Diana Ixchup mentioned that all four of the boys in question had looked exceedingly handsome in their dress robes - especially Black and Lupin - and that the latter had had a particularly darling blush on his cheeks due to whatever inappropriate nonsense Black might have been doing to him under the table. Rolanda Hooch pointed out that since Yule Balls were no longer held at Hogwarts, it was lovely to see the students having a chance to let their hair down and dance. Pomona Sprout concurred with this opinion. Silvanus Kettleburn brought up the spiking of the eggnog and the resulting chaos…
“And you really were spectacular out there, Minerva,” he continued brightly. “I’d no idea you could dance with such grace and enthusiasm! You were as lithe as a bowtruckle!”
Minerva, who frankly could recall next to nothing of the incident (and highly doubted that a bowtruckle was in any way considered lithe), sat in stony silence. Grace? Enthusiasm? Certainly not! It was hardly dignified, after all. Singing in public was bad enough, but dancing? She shuddered at the thought.
“Ah, yes, my dear, I enjoyed our waltz immensely,” said Dumbledore with a kind smile. “And it was really quite lovely of you to dance with poor Peter Pettigrew. Who know he could Charleston?” Thankfully, this time the Headmaster chose to forgo the distressing wink.
Minerva glared at the modified Quick Quotes Quill in front of her, suppressing the urge to tear it barb from barb. How, despite her ostensibly stern and watchful gaze, had Black, Lupin, Pettigrew, and Potter managed unleash such uncontrolled revelry? And how could she have failed so spectacularly to stop it? Not that she actually remembered failing, mind you. In fact, after that unwise fourth cup of eggnog, very little of the feast made any sense at all. All that she could recollect of the evening was a vague impression of whirling around the Great Hall with Sirius Black and doing the (Merlin forbid) polka with Potter. There was something else, though, something she could but dimly recall in the peripheries of her brain: an image of two teenage boys gliding across the dance floor, each wearing a small, secret smile meant only for the other. It was one of the beautiful sights she’d ever seen, and Minerva could only think of one word for it: love.
Still, she wisely chose to keep that image to herself.
“It should be noted that my parties never get that boisterous,” grumbled Slughorn. He crossed his arms across his chest and affected a pout.
“Oh, puh-leeze, Horace,” Beauford replied, “your parties are as boring as Binns.”
Cuthbert Binns chose that moment to open his eyes and cough violently. “The Unrelenting Goblin Trade Embargo of 1358 was quite fascinating, really,” he mumbled before falling back asleep.
Beauford raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “I rest my case.”
The staff continued to bicker and snap for a full five minutes until the Headmaster managed to restore order. “Well, well,” he began, “it seems that there was no harm done, was there?”
Filch opened his mouth to disagree, but stopped short after a sharp kick from Poppy beneath the table.
Dumbledore looked pointedly at Minerva. “And everyone certainly seemed to have enjoyed themselves immensely.”
“Oh, yes!” trilled Filius Flitwick, clapping his hands excitedly. “The Feast was great fun this year!”
The Headmaster cleared his throat and banged his gavel lightly on the table. “That settled, we come to New Business! Minerva? Are you ready?” He waved his wand and the lilting strains of a Celtic Harp filled the room.
Minerva was most certainly not ready. She would never be ready for such nonsense. Still, an agreement was an agreement, and a Gryffindor would never go back on her word. Damn those boys! They would pay for this! She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and began…
“Maxwelton's braes are bonnie
Where early fa's the dew
And 'twas there that Annie Laurie
Gave me her promise true...”
Author: brighty18
Recipient: flaminia_x
Rating: PG (at most)
Highlight for Warnings: * Crack!fic, near-gen!fic, outside character POV, Parliamentary Procedure, minor OC’s (including Diana Ixchup, Astronomy Professor and Beauford Furpark, Ancient Runes Professor), professorial bickering, Argus Filch, implied musical McGonagall, and brief mentions of singing silverware and the over-consumption of alcohol…*
Word Count: Just over 2,900 (sorry)
Summary: Minerva McGonagall hates staff meetings, but there are other things she hates even more. That said, she’s quite willing to risk her reputation for those she believes in. But will the Marauders ruin the Christmas feast and make her eat her words?
Author's notes: Highlight for prompts: *2. Minerva has a bit too much holiday eggnog at the Hogwarts holiday feast/Yule Ball/whatever event works in this context. Hilarity ensues. I wonder who's responsible? And 3. A look behind-the-scenes at the Hogwarts staff meeting in which the faculty and staff plan this year's Yule Ball/holiday feast and try to Marauder-proof it. A Filch cameo would be appreciated! *
Happy Holidays, flaminia_x I tried to squeeze in as many of your prompts and favorite things as possible, so I hope this pleases! Enjoy!
Minutes of Hogwarts Staff Meeting: December 15th, 1975
Professors Present: Cuthbert Binns, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Filius Flitwick, Beauford Furpark, Diana Ixchup, Silvanus Kettleburn, Minerva McGonagall, Horace Slughorn, Pomona Sprout, and Septimus Vector III.
Staff Members Present: Argus Filch, Rolanda Hooch, Irma Pince, and Poppy Pomfrey
Minutes: The minutes of the previous meeting were approved as read. Silvanus Kettleburn commended Minerva McGonagall on her “amazing efficiency with note taking.”
Old Business:
Diana Ixchup updated the staff on the status of the anti-student wards in the Astronomy Tower. Apparently, they failed again, for she caught two unnamed Gryffindor males snogging in her classroom three times in the last month. Argus Filch suggested castration as punishment, but was quickly voted down. Filius Flitwick kindly agreed to help Diana set-up new wards.
Horace Slughorn presented yet another detailed account of the ongoing anti-Slytherin sentiment by the Gryffindor House. This particular incident involved a so-called prank in which one of his favorite students, Severus Snape, was turned a bright fuchsia. The spell lasted over twenty-four hours. Beauford Furpark suggested that, at the very least, it finally gave the boy some healthy colour. Irma Pince told Beauford to shut his gob. Beauford claimed he was only joking and reluctantly apologized. Horace was quite sure that a quartet of Sixth Year Gryffindor boys calling themselves “Marauders” (and otherwise known as Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, and James Potter) were to blame. Silvanus Kettleburn agreed that he, too, had noticed said boys engaged in pranks against Slytherins. Argus Filch suggested public flogging and perhaps a good tar-and-feathering on top of it all. Poppy Pomfrey slapped Argus causing a slight kerfuffle lasting nearly ten minutes. Headmaster Dumbledore restored order via a Tickling Spell.
New Business: The Holiday Feast
Albus Dumbledore announced that, since so few students would be remaining at Hogwarts over the holidays, an additional (or early) Holiday Feast was being planned and would be held the day of final classes. Horace Slughorn protested, claiming that this conflicted with his annual Slug Club Soirée. Rolanda Hooch and Pomona Sprout spoke up in favor of Dumbledore’s suggestion, citing it as a boost to student morale. Argus Filch brought up the possibility of Marauder-based disturbances…
Minerva stared down at the modified Quick Quotes Quill in front of her and wondered how in bloody hell she’d ended-up as recording secretary in this house of fools. “Honestly,” she whispered under her breath, “most of you people are worse than the students.”
Granted, her students were no angels. Just last week she’d caught James Potter in the Prefects’ Bathroom casting a rather insalubrious spell on his own genitals. Though he’d claimed it was intended to impress Lily Evans, Minerva had her suspicions that it was really an Engorgement Charm in response to some Slytherin’s Shrinking Hex. Still, she hadn’t been sure (and she certainly hadn’t wanted to look) so she’d given him a week’s detention plus a stern lecture about unnecessary body modification. Not that she really knew if it were necessary or not, mind you.
And then there were the other three. Pettigrew was merely a follower, but Black and Lupin were in a class by themselves. Still, despite the myriad rule violations, the pranks, the floods, and the explosions, Minerva found she had a soft spot for the boys. And it wasn’t simply that Black was charming - which he undoubtedly was. Nor was it Remus’ darling innocence - which she strongly suspected might just be an act. No, it was the fact that, in some secret recess of her soul, Minerva found herself embroiled in a bizarre combination of pity, envy, and admiration for the pair.
Neither boy had a fair shake in life. Black’s parents were undeniably awful. In fact, his dreadful cow of a mother was responsible for the one and only time Minerva had lost her composure in her long academic career. Shortly after Sirius’ Sorting, Mrs. Black had requested a meeting with the Headmaster and the Head of Gryffindor House in order to, in her words, “sort out this travesty.” Walburga had looked down her nose at Minerva and snorted, “I simply cannot bear the thought of Sirius and his nasty, Bloodtraitor, Mudblood friends cavorting unsupervised in your House of Filth.” Seeing red (and not just Gryffindor red) Minerva had responded with an equally virulent tirade ending with the phrase, “and you can take your bigotry and shove it up your arse!” As at staff meetings, Albus had soothed ruffled feelings with unexpectedly pointless humor and a few Confundus Charms, but he still teased her about her outburst from time to time. On one level, Minerva had seriously considered Obliviating herself to wipe the incident clean from her brain, but on another, she was quite proud. Sirius, despite being cheeky and an undeniable pain in the arse, was actually quite brave and intelligent and open-minded - and Minerva swore to support his rebellion against his horrifying family with her last dying breath. At least, unlike the majority of the Blacks, Sirius could think for himself. House of Filth, indeed!
Still, she did wish that Sirius knew how to behave like a civilized human being rather than a rampaging pixie on butterbeer. Merlin, but the boy could try a woman’s soul.
And then there was Remus Lupin.
Like everyone else on staff, Minerva McGonagall was well aware of Lupin’s lycanthropic condition. She’d been present when Dumbledore had made the announcement. (And what a staff meeting that had been! Filch’s nose had required four healing spells, made worse by the fact that Poppy, who’d landed the first blow, flatly refused to help heal the man she referred to as a “narrow-minded arse.”) At the time Minerva had been privately reticent, but she’d publicly supported her Headmaster - and she was now glad that she did. Remus Lupin had proved to be a model student: unfailingly kind, polite, and diligent. He always turned his homework in on time and, unlike his comrades, rarely caused audible disruptions in class. Obviously, this raised mild suspicion in Minerva’s mind - nobody could hang about with Potter and Black and be that angelic - but she loved him nonetheless.
Of course, she’d pitied Lupin at first. Like Black, he was somewhat of an outcast in certain circles. But, also like Black, he was quick-witted, adaptive, and unexpectedly good-hearted. Initially, she’d been quite surprised that the four boys had bonded so closely - and she’d been even more astounded when rumors began flying about that Black and Lupin were in some kind of romantic relationship. But ever since the time she’d come upon them in the Hospital wing, Black’s sleeping form curled protectively around Lupin’s broken body, she’d found herself realizing that their relationship was somehow right.
Poppy Pomfrey was correct: Lupin made Black a kinder person and Black made Lupin a more confident one. Beauford, of course, old friend of Black’s uncles that he was, approved wholeheartedly of the relationship, and Minerva was quite sure that those “accidental incidents” in which he “inadvertently” left his classroom door unlocked were neither as accidental nor inadvertent as he claimed. Still, the boys had so much against them that it was somehow good that they were supported - albeit illegally. And as long as she was not the one responsible for the bending of a rule, she could sometimes manage to pretend not to notice.
No, the more she thought about it, Minerva McGonagall did not altogether pity Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. In fact, she almost envied them. Whatever they had going between them, it was special. She should be that lucky. Rather then meeting the man of her dreams as she’d once hoped, Minerva now found herself surrounded by what she privately considered to be a maelstrom of anger, ineptitude, and insanity. Eight male staff members and most were mad, corpulent, gay, or some dreadful combination of the above. Hell, Cuthbert Binns was not even alive. “No,” thought Minerva bitterly, “despite their backgrounds, Black and Lupin are really quite fortunate to have each other.”
Suddenly, Horace slammed his chubby palm on the table and the quill before her gave an affronted squeak, startling Minerva back to the present. “They should not be allowed to attend!” cried the portly Potions Master. “They’ll certainly ruin the feast for the rest of the students!”
“Yes, yes,” added Irma Pince, brow furrowed with worry. “So many rules have been violated! Remember the flaming pumpkin incident? The Opera Potion? The time those shiny little fairy things ate a boy’s clothing and…”
“Oh, it ‘twas all in good fun, Irma,” broke in Beauford. “No one was ever hurt.” He turned to Minerva with a grin, “And your rendition of ‘Der Holle Rache,’ was truly outstanding, my dear!”
Minerva opened her mouth to protest, but, realizing that she had no valid point to make, quickly snapped it shut. She shuddered every time she recalled the Marauders’ little prank last Halloween. Opera, indeed! She hated singing. Still, there was no logical reason to exclude the boys simply on the premise that they might cause trouble. That violated every ounce of fairness and loyalty in Minerva’s body - not to mention the very spirit of Wizarding Law.
Argus Filch jumped up excitedly. “I say we not only ban them from the feast, but lock them in the dungeons as well! I believe I still have some magicked thumbscrews left over from the good old days when we were still allowed to…”
“I highly doubt that the use of thumbscrews is appropriate at the holidays,” said Dumbledore softly. “And we can hardly punish them for something they’ve not yet done.” He brushed an imaginary speck of dust from the sleeve of his dark-violet robes and stared pointedly at the squirming Caretaker.
“Besides, they mean well,” added Poppy Pomfrey. “And, you know, their worst deeds are always done in retaliation for previous wrongs or in protection of their friends.”
Filius drummed his fingers upon the table and nodded excitedly. “Well, you have a point, Poppy. Those Marauder boys do seem to mean well. Still, we can’t have them turning things turquoise and setting things aflame. How about a few simple Anti-incineration Charms and wards against mis-used Potions?”
“Why don’t we incinerate them?” growled Filch, eyes glowing with a manic pleasure. “Burn them at the stake! It could be a glorious bonfire.”
Minerva sighed and silently gritted her teeth. She loathed staff meetings (considering them the ultimate waste of her precious time), but frankly she hated Argus Filch even more. The man was disgusting: crass, mean-tempered, and his personal hygiene certainly left much to be desired. In fact, in Minerva’s opinion, his only saving grace was his devotion to his cat - and even that relationship made her feel somewhat uneasy. What did go on between those two, anyway?
“THERE WILL BE NO STAKE BURNINGS, NO THUMBSCREWS, AND NO PRANKS!” she roared, surprising even herself with her own vehemence. “AND THOSE BOYS WILL DO NOTHING AND I MEAN NOTHING UNTOWARD AT THE FEAST. I SWEAR IT ON MY HONOR.”
Twelve pairs of eyes swiveled toward her in surprise. (Predictably, Binns continued to stare fixatedly at the ceiling, muttering about The Great Carrot Blight of 1743.) “Why, Minerva,” began Rolanda Hooch with a shocked smile, “I’ve never seen you so riled.”
“I’m not riled,” snapped Minerva, fully aware that her cheeks were undoubtedly flaming red. “I’m simply defending the honor of Gryffindor and pointing out the illogic of banning innocent students for something they might do, rather than have done.”
“I highly doubt that Black was ever innocent,” interrupted Diana Ixchup, obviously thinking back to what she’d seen on the floor of her dark classroom.
Minerva ignored her. “Be that as it may,” she continued testily. “I will personally see to it that nothing unseemly takes place at the Holiday Feast. And if it does, I’ll… I’ll…”
“You’ll what, Minerva?” asked Dumbledore with a twinkle of a smile. “You’ll once again serenade us with your phenomenal vocal ability?”
Minerva could have sworn that he gave her a wink. “Fine,” she spat, “if that’s what it takes to convince you all.”
“Wait!” shouted Argus. “I still don’t trust this little scenario one bit.” He shook his head and, to Minerva’s great disgust, reached beneath the table to scratch his nether regions. “How can you be so sure they’ll behave, Professor? I still vote for the thumbscrews.”
“Thumbscrews aside, perhaps a few Charms or Wards would be helpful,” suggested Slughorn. Across the table, several heads nodded in agreement.
“Moving on, is there any other New Business?” asked Dumbledore sternly. He slammed his gavel upon the podium with a smart rap, signaling that the discussion had come to an unquestionable end.
*** ** *** ** ***
Minutes of Hogwarts Staff Meeting: January 6th, 1976
Professors Present: Cuthbert Binns, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Filius Flitwick, Beauford Furpark, Diana Ixchup, Silvanus Kettleburn, Minerva McGonagall, Horace Slughorn, Pomona Sprout, and Septimus Vector III.
Staff Members Present: Argus Filch, Rolanda Hooch, Irma Pince, and Poppy Pomfrey.
Minutes: The minutes of the previous meeting were approved as corrected after Septimus Vector reiterated that he’d, in fact, said nothing at all the entire previous meeting.
Old Business: The Holiday Feast:
Horace Slughorn brought up the subject by recalling the “terror” of the Slytherin first-years at the use of Christmas tree-based fireworks. Beauford Furpark told him to shove off, adding that the singing silverware was quite delightful and that the four students (who were currently harvesting magical barnacles off the Giant Squid as a form of detention) had actually managed to lighten things up. Dumbledore agreed and noted that the fireworks had been “quite tasteful, all things considered.” Diana Ixchup mentioned that all four of the boys in question had looked exceedingly handsome in their dress robes - especially Black and Lupin - and that the latter had had a particularly darling blush on his cheeks due to whatever inappropriate nonsense Black might have been doing to him under the table. Rolanda Hooch pointed out that since Yule Balls were no longer held at Hogwarts, it was lovely to see the students having a chance to let their hair down and dance. Pomona Sprout concurred with this opinion. Silvanus Kettleburn brought up the spiking of the eggnog and the resulting chaos…
“And you really were spectacular out there, Minerva,” he continued brightly. “I’d no idea you could dance with such grace and enthusiasm! You were as lithe as a bowtruckle!”
Minerva, who frankly could recall next to nothing of the incident (and highly doubted that a bowtruckle was in any way considered lithe), sat in stony silence. Grace? Enthusiasm? Certainly not! It was hardly dignified, after all. Singing in public was bad enough, but dancing? She shuddered at the thought.
“Ah, yes, my dear, I enjoyed our waltz immensely,” said Dumbledore with a kind smile. “And it was really quite lovely of you to dance with poor Peter Pettigrew. Who know he could Charleston?” Thankfully, this time the Headmaster chose to forgo the distressing wink.
Minerva glared at the modified Quick Quotes Quill in front of her, suppressing the urge to tear it barb from barb. How, despite her ostensibly stern and watchful gaze, had Black, Lupin, Pettigrew, and Potter managed unleash such uncontrolled revelry? And how could she have failed so spectacularly to stop it? Not that she actually remembered failing, mind you. In fact, after that unwise fourth cup of eggnog, very little of the feast made any sense at all. All that she could recollect of the evening was a vague impression of whirling around the Great Hall with Sirius Black and doing the (Merlin forbid) polka with Potter. There was something else, though, something she could but dimly recall in the peripheries of her brain: an image of two teenage boys gliding across the dance floor, each wearing a small, secret smile meant only for the other. It was one of the beautiful sights she’d ever seen, and Minerva could only think of one word for it: love.
Still, she wisely chose to keep that image to herself.
“It should be noted that my parties never get that boisterous,” grumbled Slughorn. He crossed his arms across his chest and affected a pout.
“Oh, puh-leeze, Horace,” Beauford replied, “your parties are as boring as Binns.”
Cuthbert Binns chose that moment to open his eyes and cough violently. “The Unrelenting Goblin Trade Embargo of 1358 was quite fascinating, really,” he mumbled before falling back asleep.
Beauford raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “I rest my case.”
The staff continued to bicker and snap for a full five minutes until the Headmaster managed to restore order. “Well, well,” he began, “it seems that there was no harm done, was there?”
Filch opened his mouth to disagree, but stopped short after a sharp kick from Poppy beneath the table.
Dumbledore looked pointedly at Minerva. “And everyone certainly seemed to have enjoyed themselves immensely.”
“Oh, yes!” trilled Filius Flitwick, clapping his hands excitedly. “The Feast was great fun this year!”
The Headmaster cleared his throat and banged his gavel lightly on the table. “That settled, we come to New Business! Minerva? Are you ready?” He waved his wand and the lilting strains of a Celtic Harp filled the room.
Minerva was most certainly not ready. She would never be ready for such nonsense. Still, an agreement was an agreement, and a Gryffindor would never go back on her word. Damn those boys! They would pay for this! She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and began…
“Maxwelton's braes are bonnie
Where early fa's the dew
And 'twas there that Annie Laurie
Gave me her promise true...”