House elves were truly magnificent creatures. They were perfect proof that just because one might be small in stature, it was no measure to the amount of power one could possess. Minerva had always found the creatures extremely annoying, but found them to be useful and admired their work ethic. The elves of Hogwarts had managed to transport Headmistress McGonagall’s various trunks, trinkets, and things to the Head office in the short time it took the elderly witch to travel from her cottage in Hogsmeade to the school.

When she opened the large wooden door to the office a great wave of sadness washed over her. Never before had she seen the office so empty. When she had inherited the post from Albus, all his contraptions and effects were still whirring animatedly, oblivious to their master’s demise. When she took over after Severus’s death, there was rubble mixed in with the darkness that had permeated the space. Now the room seemed stripped of life; even the portraits covering the walls were eerily silent.

As she made her way to the desk, walking stick clanking loudly on the floor, small voices started popping out all along the walls. By the time she had made it to the desk, the cheers office, and applause was so deafening, she was sure the Slytherin students would be awakened in their dormitories. Minerva turned her steely gaze to the ancient ancestry on the walls, but couldn’t hold the stern gaze for long.

Her mouth turned up into a genuine smile; a rarity in any case. A twinkle filled her eyes and she let out a short chuckle. She truly was happy to be home. “It’s nice to see you too,” the elderly witch said, removing her cloak and cap, placing them on the edge of the desk. She gazed around the office, trying to greet her old friends individually, knowing full well that she wouldn’t manage to greet them all, even if she had all night.

He had hoped to slip into the office while it was briefly empty. His errand wasn't a nefarious one; rather, he had deliveries that only he could make, it appeared, since he seemed the only one who knew where this stuff got stored. The elves were a lovely resource, but he'd long since banished them from his tower. They brought him food, but their continued attempts to organize his paperwork had been the final straw. He could stand dragging his own laundry to the laundry rooms of it meant not having to re-unclean his tower every other day.

The large box levitating in front of him contained any number of things, but the most prominent - largely via the virtue of it being on top - was the old Astrolabe that had whirred and spun in the center of Dumbledore's office back in the day. It was a beautiful instrument; almost a pity they weren't really that useful, these days.

The office's door obscured the sound from within until he opened it, and then the chattering of the portraits hit like a wall, and the tall professor jumped. But that wasn't as surprising as the woman standing in the office itself.

He was tempted, for a fleeting moment, to panic and close the door. He wasn't dressed properly - slacks, no shoes, his dress shirt untucked and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows - but the larger issue was who she was.

Gods, he'd been terrible in Transfiguration. Maybe he was lucky and she'd forgotten that misfire incident where he'd turned a student's cloak into a manta ray. And given the poor sod a permanent fear of sea life. If her sharp gaze could have left scars, he'd have been covered in them.

"Profe - er, Headmistress McGonagall," he said, surprise evident in every syllable. He seemed unsure for a moment and then bowed at the waist, uncertainly. "I wasn't aware you were here already."

The cacophony of sound coming from the walls silenced the sound of the approaching wizard as easily as Muffiato would have. She was still grinning joyfully when the door to the office opened without preamble. Immediately, her smile turned into a look of disapproval. Surely Headmaster Reid didn’t allow the staff to simply trapeze in whenever they felt the need?

The witch turned her stern gaze to the witches and wizards lining the wall and watched as they fell silent, much like an unruly classroom of students. Minerva had learned early in her academic career that a look and a stern disposition could reign in a class much better than vacant words and high pitched voices. She then turned her gaze back to the figure addressing her, and couldn’t help but feel her features soften.

She always had a soft spot for her former students, and truly… the ones that did terribly seemed to stick out more than those that were mediocre. Tapendra Trishna was a dreadful transfigurationist while under her tutelage, rivaled only by his now coworker: Neville Longbottom. The Headmistress took in his state of dress and turned away, there was just something indecent about a man walking around barefoot. It was just too personal.

Her shifted gaze landed on the box levitating lazily in the air and the edges of her lips threatened to turn up into another smile. Sitting atop the box was the astrolabe that was a prominent figure of her tenure at Hogwarts. After the epic battle, Minerva had assumed the ancient tool had been lost forever and it had saddened the old witch greatly. She had many fond memories of the Head office and the Astrolabe had always been a permanent fixture, never the focal point, but always there.
   
The gift was enough to make the new Headmistress forgive the professor of his shabby appearance. “Ah, Professor, do come in. Have a seat,” She said, motioning for the seat in front of the desk while taking the spot opposite. “Can I interest you in a cup of tea, or perhaps something stronger?” She asked, though most of her things hadn’t been unpacked, she was sure she could summon something from the kitchens if needed.

Since the Daily Prophet article last week, the days had dragged on and on. Aileen had attended the latest tournament task with silent resignation, and had been snapping at students who acted as though the Headmaster's impending absence gave them leave to misbehave. But today was Herschel's last day at Hogwarts. Tonight, with a cloud of prim irritability hovering over her, the Runes professor shut her office door and prepared to head home.

Loud cheering filtered through the walls and down the corridor, right to the bottom of the gargoyle statue that guarded the Headmaster's office. Aileen's head whipped up. Her eyes narrowed. To her knowledge, no one had reset the password yet, and someone could have gotten up there.

Hurrying up the steps, she caught voices from within. Aileen pushed open the slightly ajar door and stood there for a stunned moment. Not prankster students. Not Peeves. But McGonagall and Tapendra. For once, Tapendra's sloppy state of attire flew past her notice, and Aileen focused on the much older-looking McGonagall with the stern eyes she remembered well.

"I apologize," she offered automatically. "I thought I'd heard something."

Aileen's gaze flitted around the room. Her uncle's collection of scotch. The faint smell of cigars. All gone. In their place, a floating astrolabe - well, of course Tapendra would think to do that.

A lifetime of manners reminded her to smile politely at the new Headmistress. "Welcome to the castle. I had not realized you'd be arriving tonight, but it seems Professor Trishna is our one-man welcoming committee. I'll let you get settled in," she put her hand on the doorknob, about to turn away.

Tapendra's look of polite but mild panic remained firmly in place. He hadn't meant to turn up unprofessionally dressed. At least he wasn't in a t-shirt, he supposed. Not that it helped much. He smiled, and while it was a normal sunny smile it had uncertainty to it.

"Coffee would be lovely,  if you have it, Headmistress," he said, and then the door reopened and - not for the first time - he was quite glad to see Aileen Reid. He looked at her with a somewhat wild expression of joy. She turned to go, and he caught her shoulder in a gentle but firm grip, gently turning her towards McGonagall in an arc. He tutted.

"My apologizes, Headmistress," he said. "If you don't mind, I'd like to get this astrolabe and its assorted accompaniments back into place for you, so as to get it out from underfoot - Professor Reid, if you could assist me?" His tone was all cheerful sunniness, disguising well the warring desires to look halfway capable and the urge to flee. He didn't say it, but the look he shot Aileen said help me.

As the runes professor barged her way into the office, Minerva’s irritation flared. What she had hoped to be a quiet evening of settling in and relaxing was quickly turning into a gathering most unwelcome. It wasn’t so much that she disliked the company, more so the fact that it was unexpected and she was quite out of sorts to deal with it. No use crying over spilt potion, she supposed, and busied herself by pointing her wand toward one of the boxes lying haphazardly on the floor. An antique percolator lifted itself from the confines of the container and sat itself magically upon the desk, followed by three mugs and various sweeteners.

“Ah, Ms. Reid,” Headmistress McGonagall said kindly, “You’re more than welcome to stay. That is, unless you have important matters to attend to?” She may not be entirely happy with having company, but as she already had it, there was no use making it unpleasant. Not only that, but she was eager to put any ill feelings at ease, as Aileen was related to the previous headmaster and Minerva wasn’t entirely sure how close they were.

The coffeemaker was heating without any assistance, and would probably be ready by the time the two finished putting the office’s accoutrements back in their rightful places. “Would you two care for some assistance?” She asked. She didn’t much care for astronomy, finding it rather a bunch of guesswork much like divination. The Astrolabe was wanted mainly for its symbolism and presence within the office.

Only their close friendship prevented Aileen from looking mortally offended at Tapendra’s presumption to grab her shoulder. She turned from the door and returned his pleading look with one of exasperation. He was the one who’d come to visit the Headmistress barefoot; he would live if the astrolabe fell on his toe.

"Of course," she answered him sweetly as visions of dropping the device danced in her head. "Always happy to help."

Now McGonagall knew that was a flat out lie, but  perhaps enough years had passed that the Headmistress would be polite enough to pretend it were true. If her greeting was anything to go by, she hid any lingering animosity well.

“Thank you, Headmistress, but I believe we’ll be alright.” Aileen avoided looking at Tapendra so as not to kill him with her gaze and mar the rug. With a few waves of her wand, she began centering one of the empty podiums so that the astrolabe would float above it, gesturing at Tapendra when the podium was ready.

Aileen was too sweet - that sort of deadly sweetness that meant she wasn't happy. Tappy shrank back slightlt. Well, she'd have to cope, though he was grateful she didn't make some excuse and flee the office. Hopefully, once this was set up, he could politely excuse himself and go and get dressed properly.

"That won't be required, Headmistress," he said with a quick smile, "Though pointing out where in the room you would like it would be helpful."

He only remembered the general location of it - off on the righthand side, wasn't it, sitting in its housing? He hoped he had the housing in the box, anyway, since the pedestal was missing. The box had certainly seemed heavy and large enough to disguise and contain it.

"Thank you," he added to Aileen, quietly but nonetheless sincerely. He lifted the first large ring out of the box, handing it to her. The device had been broken down and stored as its large component rings, their center fixture buried underneath the large pile of brass. At least it wasn't the full sized armillary sphere[1] that had been sitting in the Astronomy tower for eons.

1.	Doh - meant that Tappy's returning an Armillary sphere (as in spherical astrolabe) rather than a plain old flat astrolabe...derp!

The Headmistress watched the awkward pairing with pride in her eyes. They, at least, worked together as quite the team and didn’t mind helping the other out when needed. That’s how Hogwarts professors were supposed to act and she truly hoped the rest of the staff worked as such a cohesive unit, even though she knew that was a hopeless prospect.  She knew very well what it was like to have the incorrigible staff members that just pressed your buttons and got under your skin, though she also knew that when the time came, she would stand up and fight for even the most… difficult… staff members.

“Wherever you put it is fine, professor. I daresay once the room’s put together a bit more I’ll have it moved somewhere more appropriate,” She said offhandedly. The room was still dreadfully bare and deciding where to put the large and awkward equipment would be nearly impossible with the room in its current state. The percolator started whining incessantly and Minerva swiftly poured three cups for the adults.

Surely it wouldn’t take much longer to put together a stargazing sphere. After being rejected for help (they probably thought she was too old to handle the heavy pieces) she sat behind the desk, her desk and settled herself in. It felt good to be home, even the unexpected visits and surprises added to the feel of Hogwarts and the life she was so very used to.

Aileen nodded at Tapendra's thanks, putting the pedestal near the Headmistress' desk and the portraits, which was a prominent enough area but wouldn't obscure the faces of those sitting in the armchairs. She took the large ring from Tapendra, and then another. Any more and she'd feel as though she ought to hold her arms out to the sides and mime balancing scales.

They began fitting the pieces of the sphere together, Aileen only speaking to tell him to move the center fixture slightly. Even while annoyed with him, she found it easy to read his gestures, the way he'd pause and look around, or touch his chin in thought, or shift his feet. Within minutes, the sphere floated above the pedestal, and the Runes professor glanced at the new Headmistress to try and gauge if she'd picked up on her sour mood.

How odd. Headmistress McGonagall looked rather pleased; an expression she'd rarely seen directed at her when she'd been her student. Now that she was a professor, perhaps things would be different, and if helping out Tapendra gained McGonagall's respect, she'd gladly pretend he sneezed fairy dust too. At least when McGonagall was watching.

Since it would be rude to leave when three cups of coffee waited for them, Aileen took one, smiled at her in thanks, and then directed a smile at Tapendra before perching on one of the chairs.

"Is Hogwarts as you remember it?" She said conversationally, taking a sip of the dark brew, then looking for a moment like she was a victim of the slug vomiting charm. Coffee. She shot Tapendra an accusatory glance. No taste. He had no taste at all!

The pieces clicked together with ease - for the most part. The globe shape was, at times, tricky to assemble. Thankfully, Aileen seemed quick to pick up on his otherwise instinctive grunts and gestures. Which was good, because had he had to speak aloud he'd have revealed that he was thinking fast and hard and trying rather desperately to remember where each little pin went.

Thankfully, it assembled in record time. Tapendra waited by the pedestal as Aileen sought out the coffee cups, setting the last of the enchantments on the sphere. It rose above the pedestal, floating gently in the air inside its concave base. It was very beautiful - a fixture that had been missing since he'd been in school as a student, he felt.

He wandered to the desk, picking up his own mug, but preferring to stand. He missed Aileen's expression, but after a sip his expression mirrored hers, looking rather like he'd bitten into something sour. No sugar! No sugar at all!

Somehow asking for McGonagall for milk and extra sugar seemed like a very bad idea. He gave up and drank it black, smiling through the bitter taste, and nodded slightly to indicate that he wouldn't mind an answer to Aileen's question.

As the two finished their drudgery and ambled over to the desk, Minerva returned her features to one of neutrality. She found it very difficult to think of her students as adults, and found it even more difficult to think of them as professors; as masters in their given fields. And to know that Minerva had had a chance to help shape and mold them into the people they were today filled the weary witch with pride. Aileen even more so than Tapendra.

Aileen had been a right bugger of a student, whereas Tapendra had been quite the antithesis. She watched their faces as they took the proffered mugs of dark brew and had to choke back a laugh as both their faces showed their disgust. She could easily have summoned some sweetener from one of the various boxes, but decided against it. Were the other two magical folk or not? They could very easily sweeten the drink themselves.

“Well professor, that’s a rather difficult and complex question to ask. Hogwarts is as I remember it, yes, but the feel of things, as well as the populace, has changed so drastically I fear I may be grasping for straws for quite a bit,” She said with a polite smile. “And do sit down, Trishna, it is so very uncomfortable to have to look so far up to speak with you,” The man was tall enough when everyone were standing, when they sat it was like looking up to a mountain troll he was so tall.

From where she sat, she missed Tapendra's reaction, and assumed that the man was perfectly content with the bitter taste. At the Headmistress' comment, Aileen craned her neck and raised her eyebrows at the professor expectantly, then glanced at the seat next to hers. If he thought he was escaping this room, oh, he had another think coming!

"Yes, I imagine it will take some getting used to," she looked back at the Headmistress. "Especially with the tournament and the winter festivities."

Though McGonagall must know (and had probably taught) several of the professors here, there were still a few on the Hogwarts roster who had attended foreign schools. And then there was the foreign staff and the new, young faces of students.

"Is there anything either of us can do to help?" Aileen glanced at Tapendra with her best neutral expression. "If the tournament requires any armillary spheres, Professor Trishna is the one to ask." Her tone turned a bit dry and teasing.

Aileen did not expect McGonagall to pull out a list and assign them tasks right this moment, not when she hadn't had a chance to unpack yet. This was just to seem helpful, and of course, to mess with Tapendra.

Tapendra muttered apology, the look of embarrassment all the more noticeable with his face scrunched a bit from the coffee. He sat, automatically slouching. He was always too tall, but to be told it wasn't particularly good at relaxing him - now he wanted to flee to the tower more than ever! He flushed, a tad hopelessly.

He forced a polite smile regardless, crossing his legs at the ankle and resisting his habitual desire to sit lotus-style. McGonagall would not have approved, he suspected.

"Oh, yes," he said, happily, "And should you ever need assistance with the paintings or ancient writings, Professor Reid will fall over herself to assist, I'm sure." He smiled, not looking towards Aileen; but the smile held the hint of a smirk, a bit of good-natured ribbing.

The headmistress looked from one professor to the other, and took another sip of her bitter brew. A strong cup of coffee was better than the strongest pepper up potion, in her opinion. She listened to their playful banter, and her polite grin turned to a small smirk. “I’ll be sure to remember that,” She said.

Honestly, Minerva detested small talk. She was a woman with a purpose and if things were pointless, Minerva had little patience for it. She was, however, enjoying the socialization and was slightly tempted to join in on their joking. “I think you’ll find, Professor Trishna, that I’m a bit older than some of the paintings around here. I should have more need of your assistance, I’d wager.” She said, “Not that I won’t also need yours, Aileen. Actually, I may have a few questions for you later, there used to be a rather peculiar encryption in one of the fourth floor passages, and if it’s still there I’d very much like to know its importance,”

So sorry for the short post guys!