Fanfiction. All credit belongs to J.K. Rowling. Character names, unless they are imaginary characters that I have created, are copyrighted to the original author, as do any locations or terms that appear in the original books.

Written by: Meli.

Status: Unfinished. Last updated 4-15-09.

Summary: Scenes from the lives of the Hogwarts faculty and staff outside of the classroom. Takes place during the fifth book.

Excerpt: "Students on the way to their common rooms stared as Professor McGonagall, wearing her rarely seen tartan robe and matching hat, hurried down the marble staircase. She clutched a thick red folder with many multicolored tabs in her right hand, and she used her left to push students out of the way so that she could get through the thickening crowd (most got out of her way as quickly as possible after seeing the look on her face). At last, she freed herself from the mob and crashed through the doorway of the staff room."

Author's comments: (4-15-09) This was written a while ago, in the hopes that it would be one day be good enough to publish on a site like fanfiction.net. The goal was to create a piece that showed the lives of the teachers outside of the classroom. However, at one point I took out a section of text and separated the two, and I now don't know where to go with this one. It might end up remaining as an unfinished piece, but for now, it shall remain here.

    Students on the way to their common rooms stared as Professor McGonagall, wearing her rarely seen tartan robe and matching hat, hurried down the marble staircase. She clutched a thick red folder with many multicolored tabs in her right hand, and she used her left to push students out of the way so that she could get through the thickening crowd (most got out of her way as quickly as possible after seeing the look on her face). At last, she freed herself from the mob and crashed through the doorway of the staff room. She leaned against the wall, breathing heavily and quickly adjusting her robes (in the process she forgot that she was holding something in her arms and dropped the red folder on the floor).
    "Am I late? I had an astonishingly hard time finding decent robes to replace the ones with the ink stains on them," she barely managed to wheeze out.
    "You're fine. He isn't even here yet." Professor Trelawney said, picking up the folder. "That robe looks very nice on you, by the way."
    "Thank you. I, personally, deplore plaid, but as I said earlier, I had a very hard time finding suitable robes, and I was forced to settle with these," she said, clearly annoyed at the thought of her misfortune, but there was a hint of confusion in her expression as well.
    "Well, if you don't care for the robes, maybe I shouldn't warn you about the gravy spill you're going to have tomorrow-"
    At that moment, Dumbledore walked into the staffroom. All of the Hogwarts staff members immediately quieted down and looked respectfully in his direction.
    To a unobservant person, it would seem as if Dumbledore had walked absentmindedly into the Hogwarts staff room without any thought at all, although most people who knew him personally would argue that he was anything but absentminded. However, if one was paying attention, one would notice that there was a hint of anxiety    As this observation went through everyone in the room, Dumbledore stood at the head of the table and clapped his hands twice. The candles in the room all grew three times as bright, and the open door at the back of the room gently swung shut. All was quiet for a moment, and then Dumbledore spoke.
    "Welcome, fellow Hogwarts professors and staff, to the first meeting of the school year. I would like to discuss a variety of topics, all of which, I find, are important. A couple of these relate to, specifically, the circumstances we must face this year, while others are built more on rules and regulations that have been set previously." He took out his wand and conjured up a blackboard that was as tall as the room itself. "Let's begin with budgets. Any teachers who are low on supplies, please mention them now.”
    “The student supplies cabinet is low on boomslang skin and wolfsbane, headmaster.” Snape said, followed by Professor Burbage.
    “We need to acquire more examples of muggle technology in the classroom for my 6th years to dissect.”
    “The owlery needs some more owl treats for our feathered friends.”
    “I don't believe that is necessary; owls can hunt for themselves most nights.”
    “Yes, but I think that our students would feel more comfortable knowing that their owls are exceptionally well cared for.”
    “Oh, they know that them owls can take care of themselves. Recent polls say that an average wizarding family lets out their owl every other night to hunt on their own.”
    “Did you get that out of the Quibbler? Most wizarding families aren't using owls anymore; they've assimilated into muggle life better than any of our ancestors. Most families have a phony teller and a televisor in their  homes.”
    “Professor Binns, I believe that you mean to say a telephone, and a television.”
    “Yes, a phony teller and a televisor.”
      The meeting went on like this for a while, with Dumbledore occasionally cutting in when the teachers went completely off topic. This didn't happen frequently, despite the fact that they all had different ideas on what the best way to teach curriculum was. When the teachers were discussing the Christmas Eve banquet, everyone except for Madam Pomfrey agreed that having matching uniforms was not the way to go to get into the holiday spirit.
    “Why not? It would show the unity of the teachers within Hogwarts, and, I've already gotten an idea for our outfits. We could have feathers on our hats, and-”
    “No!” Everyone around her shouted. All of them, at the same time, continued with their reasons for disagreeing with this idea.
    “I already have holiday robes that I wear every year, and-”
    “Wouldn't fitting all those outfits be time consuming?”
    “I'm allergic to feathers.”
    “It's a nice idea for a good laugh, but...”
        "It would make us look awkward and unprofessional in front of our students."
    “In short, we'll look like drunk muggles."
    "Serverus!"
    "What? You can't deny that we won't."
    Their voices grew louder and louder, with Dumbledore trying in vain to settle down the room, until they were so loud that the Scagethorn Vine in the corner of the room suddenly shivered and started to flail its long limbs, in the process knocking a vase that morphed into the face of the witch or wizard who was passing by down from a high shelf. The crash startled the teachers into a couple of moments of silence, staring at the vase and the still flailing vine. A beam of yellow-white light shot out from the corner of the room, which, upon contact, seemed to freeze the plant. It became stiff and still.
    “Shall I clean up the vase, headmaster?” asked Professor Sprout smugly, and everyone turned to look at her as she polished off her wand with her robes.
    “You may do so afterwards. I would like to continue this conference. Unless, of course, you consider yourselves to be too childish for these meetings?”
    Ashamed, the Hogwarts staff and professors resumed talking about everything but the Christmas banquet.
    After a while, the debating slowed down, until the teachers fell silent. Dumbledore cast a couple more things onto the blackboard, and then turned around to face the long wooden table again.
    "Before I bring up our concluding topic, I would like to now offer any staff member the opportunity to add to our meeting. Please stand if you would like to participate." At this, Filch stood up, holding Mrs. Norris in his arms, and opened his mouth, but Dumbledore put up his hand.
    "Filch, if you are here to complain about Peeves, my answer remains. He has been here so long that he has become part of the school and the community of ghosts and wizards, and because of this I will not evict him from the school grounds."
    "But headmaster," protested Filch (Mrs. Norris meowed loudly as well), "he has been nothing but trouble. Why, just today Professor McGonagall played the victim in one of his pranks, and it interfered with her schedule. I spend half my time cleaning up after his insane jokes and he is outrageously rude to everyone, including yourself."
    "Be as that may, I stand by my word. You have heard my reasons before. I see no point in repeating them." Dumbledore stated decisively. Filch stood up, grumbling, and left the staff room.
    "Does anyone else have something they would like to bring up? No? All right then. For our final discussion. I would like to bring up the issue that all of us in the Wizarding Community have heard and been discussing for the past five months. There are two things we must discuss concerning this topic; the information that is going around the school and what we must do to moderate it." He paused for a second before continuing, "The Ministry has not been reporting correct information, as we all know, and having a sudden flow of information that contradicts what they have been learning all summer might create uncertainty and agitation throughout the student body that might hinder the learning that is happening within Hogwarts. I ask that you try your best to keep your personal feelings about the current controversy from students, and, if you are forced to engage in conversation relating to this topic, I expect that you use your authority to guide them in the right direction. You are, of course, at liberty to discuss what you like and express your ideas, but I think that it is best that the students not hear these views personally. I- yes, Minerva?"
    Professor McGonagall stood and said, "Surely you cannot expect us to not inform our students, in one way or another, of the current matters, Albus? We have no right to interfere with their right to learn about what is happening in the Wizarding Community outside of Hogwarts." She sat down again, and looked at Professor Dumbledore intently.
    "I did not say that, Minerva. I merely said that we should neither explain our views nor the Ministrys' to them. In other words, we must not take sides. They shall not be exposed to our views. Not yet. They will know the truth in time." With that, Professor Dumbledore stood and ventured off to the side, examining the previously smashed vase. Each individual piece was rapidly morphing into different parts of the body in various shades and hues.
    After the conclusion of the staff meeting, the teachers went to The Three Broomsticks and lounged with a round of drinks. Many side conversations took place during this time, such as one where Madam Pince and Madam Pomfrey were discussing the upcoming Thanksgiving meal.
    "I do believe that there should be vegetarian turkeys this year. There's always at least one student who can't get used to having meat at every meal because one of their muggle parents doesn't eat it. The trouble the house elves have to go through! They have to do all that work just to satisfy the person, it's absurd." Madam Pince said to Madam Pomfrey, who was sipping her butterbeer slowly and listening attentively. "Honestly, I can't see how muggles can get along without Purifying spells...then they wouldn't need to worry about chemicals and whatnot in food."
    At the table nearest to the portrait of Donaldo Ronan, the first known brewer of firewhisky, Professor McGonagall was explaining her troubles relating to tartan robes to Professor Trelawney.
    "It's not really a hatred of tartan; nowadays I just tend to avoid wearing it when given the chance. I have fond memories my mother dressing me in frilly pink and white tartan robes with lace on the collar. Growing up, my house was filled with upholstery in tartan patterns. The outside of my house was painted in an elaborate tartan pattern. Tartan furniture that had outgrown my mother's taste was replaced with other tartan patterned furniture. As a teenager I wore a green and red tartan robe to the Christmas parties my father threw his co-workers. I have biscuit tins from my grandmother's time that are tartan patterned. Even my nightgown is tartan, although it's very faded now, so the pattern is hardly visible. My first date, my O.W.L's, graduation, they were all while wearing tartan robes. I can't understand my avoidance of it now."
    "Well, since you grew up with the pattern, your avoidance might possibly be an...overexposure...to tartan."
    "Overexposure?" McGonagall repeated, doubtful. "I'm not so sure about that. If I went to one of those muggle people...therapists, I think they are called...they would probably say that I was just overreacting. But am I?"
    On the exact opposite side of the room, a much more serious conversation based on Dumbledores' final discussion was taking place.
    "Hogwarts has never had such attentive students before. They used to be so focused on school work, but not now..." Professor Sprout looked around, to make sure no one was eavesdropping on her and Professor Burbage. "...not after hearing that You-Know-Who is back. They know that it's what we're discussing. They want information, and there isn't anyone to give it to them." She rubbed her eyes with both hands and continued, "I wish I could explain to them...tell them everything they should know, all the things that could potentially save their lives..."
    Professor Burbage patted her arm sympathetically and, after a quick nod from Dumbledore said, "Come, Pomona, let's get you back to Hogwarts." She helped Professor Sprout stand and the two of them made their way through the crowded room to the doors.
    One by one, other teachers took their leave as well. Professor McGonagall, being an animagus, sneaked away in her cat form, while Madam Hooch traveled by broomstick back to Hogwarts. Madam Pomfrey and Madam Pince left together, still discussing the Thanksgiving banquet, as the Christmas banquet brought back the scolding they had received from Dumbledore. Professor Trelawney took a long time getting back, because she kept on stopping to inform passersby about events in their future. This created a large hole in the crowd around where she walked; no one wanted to know the results of their next Quidditch match or what the sugar quill flavor of the month was going to be.
     The last to leave was Hagrid, whose taste for alcohol hadn't died down even after his drinking had affected the outcome of some unfortunate events that had contributed to even bigger unfortunate events. Finally, after one last round, he got up and exited the bar, waving to Madam Rosmerta in thanks. He made his way by lamplight along the dark, empty streets, and every so often lifted his bearded face up to his destination. Hogwarts. The wonderful home of many of the staff for years.