8:00 PM
Staff Meeting

A quill scratched upon parchment, a log fell in a cindery blaze in the burning fireplace, and all else was silent. It wasn’t a common occurrence for Minerva to have alone time before, and now that she’d been chosen as the next Chief Warlock, that small bit of time she did have was taken away. She was seated firmly at the head of the large oblong table Hogwarts had been using since she had become Headmistress again. She gazed fondly around the room, reminiscing about times past – both good and bad.

Her eyes fell finally upon the diminutive house-elf seated at the one small table he’d not vanished away when making the normally cluttered staff room into a meeting space. The quill in his hand flashed furiously across the scroll of parchment he was bent over, eyes glossed over as he penned. Minerva had enlisted one of the castle’s few free elves as her personal assistant shortly after her new job title started setting in. He was a solid choice, though had his status as a ‘free’ elf not been a factor, Minerva would have probably chosen a more… mature assistant.

Tipper had grown on the elderly witch in the first couple of weeks they’d spent in close proximity, however, and a small smile splayed across her face when the elf placed his quill back into the ink pot, blew on the parchment, and wiped his brow – as if he’d worked up a sweat from dictating a correspondence. Minerva took a small sip from her cup of tea, content to be right where she was.

And then her honored guests began to arrive, and the small elf sprang into action. ”Mistress welcomes you, yes she does,” the young elf called, rushing over to greet the first to arrive, thrusting a copy of their meeting agenda into the surprised adult’s face and concluding with, ”If you should need anything, anything at all, just call for Tipper, I will be there for you, yes I will,” His beaming smile was contagious, and Minerva had to suppress her own grin at Tipper’s eagerness. “How about leaving the notes on the table, Tipper, and sit quietly until after the meeting?” she said in an asking tone, not wanting to upset the young elf, but also not wanting to have him greeting every person who walked in the room with his squeaky voice.

 ”Yes, Mistress I – he began, then realized he wasn’t being very quiet, and closed his mouth immediately. With a snap of his tiny fingers, the meeting notes appeared upon the surface of the table, and he shuffled quietly back to his seat. “Yes, welcome,” Minerva said to the few who were just arriving. The headmistress waved her hand toward the center of the table where tea and small snacks were waiting. The castle needed to have a staff meeting, but the staff needed a bit of time to reconnect as well – so Minerva made sure at least some small creature comforts were available.

It had been a busy month, and with large portion of her staff living off site, it had been difficult finding time to host a meeting, so Minerva had chosen a Tuesday evening. Though Minerva had no social life to speak of, she reasoned that Tuesdays weren’t commonly evenings that most people made plans. “Make yourselves comfortable,” she said, eyes grazing over the assortment of chairs (and random love seat) scattered around the table. Her new healer took to the left side of the cushiony love seat immediately and proceeded to slip out of her heels and tuck her feet beneath her on the seat.

It had been a bit of a wet Tuesday, but at least it was starting to warm up and hint that spring was on the way. What with the recent snow at Hogwarts, Camille thought she was doomed to be stuck in winter in Scotland.

The fifth years had really got stuck in that afternoon. The impending OWLs had them and their professor focused on what they really had to know, rather than the wider vision of arithmancy. It was a bit of a shame, but Camille was determined they should all pass and better still, pass well. She had sought advice from her more experienced colleagues on how best to prepare for the OWLs and the NEWTs. The closer they got, the more everyone seemed to issue additional detentions. She had been assigned to oversee a couple that were not scrubbing the trophies with toothbrushes, but writing alchemical equations out or transfiguration branches.

Tipper was most delightful in trying to greet them all so enthusiastically.
"I'm sure you will," Camille agreed politely, reaching over to pour some tea. "Tea, Tempest?" She offered the other witch who was settling the other side of the table. "It's good to see you Minerva, we are forever missing each other." She added, sitting back with self-stirring teacup. Much as one might wish to avoid their boss, this was Camille's politest way of remarking how little she'd seen of the Headmistress lately.

The potions professor smiled calmly in the doorway, lips closed in presumable musing. There was something about a chamber full of witches that made the otherwise unremarkable (if handsome) staff room far more enchanting than it usually was. Whatever Juliette’s love for her librarian. The women were an engaging respite from the grey outside— and the sanguine ink of the corrections she’d been making in her office since after dinner.

Eyes hardly sparing a blink for the elf (who did not detract from the witch-rich scene), she whisked into the room and moved toward the seat she usually adopted for these meetings. Her eyes lingered on McGonagall for a moment, before traveling to the new healer beside her, and finally to the Arithmancer. “I’d swear there were two of her if I don’t know how capable she was,” Juliette concurred, sinking into her seat and summoning a carafe of strong coffee— a regular addition to their meetings, at the french woman’s insistence. Her eyes returned to Minerva, her smile redoubled. “How are they liking having a no-nonsense witch for a change?”

A tiny splash of cream clouded Juliette’s cup. She stirred it with silver (not her wand) until it turned the proper color of cafe au lait. “Mmm, Camille,” she continued, bringing the warmth of the white china away from her lips as she turned her attention on the smart silhouette of Professor Duerr. “I’ve been meaning to invite Johann for dinner for ages now. And perhaps bribe him to speak with a class or two, too." The latter was less pressing. Juliette desired his company, and a good, cheery double-date with Johann, his partner, and Landis. Such a collection would admittedly rival the loveliness of the room at present. "Where’s the best place to send an owl lately?” Amidst the polyglot's frequent travel, long working hours in the securest part of the Ministry, and a disputable need for sleep, Juliette usually trusted the owl to eventually find him.

 Patrick joined the occasion, the first man to do so though he was not uncomfortable as the ratio. His love life he mused was not what he would have wished it. His love life had not been much since...He banished such thoughts as he turned to the house elf who was eagerly asking him what he wanted.

 "Tea please Tipper and some clotted cream scones if you have some.", he said pleasantly.

 It had been a difficult time to join the staff of Hogwarts, more than he had ever conceived when he had agreed to the job. Still he was here now.

 "Good evening Headmistress. Good evening ladies." he said as he took a seat.

“Mmm, Camille, I’ve been meaning to invite Johann for dinner for ages now. And perhaps bribe him to speak with a class or two, too. Where’s the best place to send an owl lately?”

Juliette, such a lovely colleague, always received a pleasant audience from Camille. She moved with such grace and consideration, spoke with a beautiful voice, and such a striking mane of hair! Guilty of swapping stories about Paris and places to eat when their paths crossed, she was sure they might entertain longer conversations if duties did not press them. Her husband, on the other hand, the Belgian witch could never quite put her finger on. The was something of Landis Morgan that kept everyone on their toes, but he was undoubtedly a very clever man indeed, and Juliette's lifelong partner.

"Oh, he is terrible..." Camille raised her eyes disparagingly. "Here let me write it down for you. He's settled in with Balfour since just before Christmas." She flipped to the back of her notebook and found loose parchment to note the London address for her. "Best bribed with good wine, books or stationery, but you know how he is. Though always has had a soft spot for you." She reached over the parchment to Juliette with a knowing smile. Yet another witch there on Wolfgang's hopeful fiancee list for their son in years past.

"Patrick! Do come join us." The arithmancy professor greeted their colleague with enthusiasm, gesturing to an adjacent chair. "How are things? You must join us for a bottle of wine one evening, I feel I've barely spoken to you and you've been here more than a month."

The witches started arriving first, followed by the kind of idle chat that tends to pop up when a group of witches gathered. Praise was handed her way, which Minerva brushed off with a small wave of her hand and a kind smile. The Headmistress of Hogwarts had no need for their accolades, merely their cooperation in the coming months. There would be a difficult transition as Minerva found her balance between her duties to the school and duties to the world at large. Both were important, and both needed her undivided attention - sadly, the only way Minerva could make it work would be by dividing her attention. Thankfully, she had an amazing staff and knew that their support would go a long way in making the future a much easier place to be.

The school's new History of Magic professor entered as the first male. Minerva had been quite upset with the death of Professor Smythe, he had been an incredible historian - and finding a replacement surely wouldn't be easy. It was sheer luck that had brought Professor Butler into their lives. Not only was Patrick an exceptionally gifted instructor himself, he had been acquainted with the late William Smythe and had melded easily into the school's curriculum. Professor McGonagall nodded her head toward the wizard as the over-enthusiastic elf rushed about, collecting the man's order. She would have spoken, but between Tipper's antics and the Arithmancy professor chatting, Minerva didn't want to bombard him.

Minerva leaned back in her hard, high-backed chair and raised her teacup to her lips, blowing upon the surface of the liquid, cooling it before taking a sip of the dark brew. It was odd, but these meetings were probably the only time Minerva didn't feel excessive amounts of stress these past months. The school's staff was excellent at calming the Head's nerves with their swift action and impressive reasoning. Though not always in agreement, Minerva knew that every member of her staff had the school's best interests at heart. It was a warming feeling that Minerva wished she could feel at all times, instead of the gnawing doubt running through the witch's mind since taking up the Chief Warlock position - especially now that Zephyr was stepping down and the wizarding world could easily be thrown into turmoil.

The witch glanced at the large clock upon the wall opposite her, "We'll give the rest a few more minutes to show up before we get started," she said, taking another sip of her tea.

Tuesday were an easier afternoon for the Deputy Headmaster, after a flat out morning of lessons. He'd just had the displeasure of finalising details with Edwin Glass' assistant about Thursday's dementor observation.[1] To say the thought of escorting students out of the castle at the moment gave him apprehension was an understatement. They had all come back present and correct at the weekend, thankfully. Even the bullish, stubborn old wizard was a little worried, though he didn't let it show on his wrinkled face.

"Good evening." He greeted, giving several nods at his colleagues before settling down in an adjacent chair to Minerva, sliding over a few items of minor significance for her to sign. What with her out of the castle so much, he handled much of what needed to be done, but occasionally only a Headmistress' signature would do.

"Here was I hoping it[2] had been cancelled." Ignan remarked, lifting his copy of the agenda up, spying the event at the end of the month. "What with valentine's day, alpacas[3] and what Nagde's old hut is being used[4] for... Wouldn't be surprised if Todd has been charging for lessons."

With hardly a glance, he took back the papers from Minerva and filed them away in the bundle he had brought with him before sitting back in the chair, surveying his colleagues.

1.	24th March, Seventh Years
2.	27th March Sex Education Panel Q&A Session
3.	20th March An Alpackage
4.	21st March Not as Hard, Hard, Hard as it Seems

Tuesday was a beautiful day for the Ancient Runes professor and Head of Ravenclaw. On a Tuesday she had one lesson in the morning and the rest of the day to sit, mark and plan. Sitting was the important, it was a lot less painful than walking around the castle or her classroom. today, Aldridge had only moved to go to lunch, dinner and now this meeting.

When the witch made her way into the staffroom with the help of her cane, a handful of staff members were already seated around the large table. It was the usual; tea was being brewed and the deputy headmaster was grumbling. Charisma’s lips twisted slightly into a barely noticeable smirk as she dropped herself into a seat beside Camille and closed her eyes.

“If it’s not Nadge’s hut, they’ll find somewhere else, Professor Storm.” Charis opened her eyes and raised her brows, glancing over to Ignan. “Far better to manage a problem than ignore its existence.”

The healer accepted the offered cup of tea graciously, a murmured “That would be lovely,” escaping between her lips as she offered Camille a kind smile. She had been pleasantly surprised by the accepting nature of the staff in general, welcoming the new recruits in with open arms. A nagging in the back of Tempest’s mind wondered if that was simply because they were used to the high turnover, or if it was because quite a few of them had recently been the ‘new kid’ themselves. Either way, Tempest wasn’t about to complain.

Healer Sage was convinced to keep her own council throughout the meeting – she wasn’t comfortable enough with the staff to speak her opinions openly yet, despite their welcoming nature. She hadn’t been made a member of the St. Mungo’s Board of Warlocks at such a young age by being unguarded with her thoughts.

It came as a shock then, even to herself, as she found herself speaking up. “I agree with Professor Aldridge,” She stated before her brain could catch up to her mouth – realizing as it did that she was speaking against the formidable deputy head of the school. The deputy head who had seemed to be more of the head than McGonagall herself lately. With one foot already planted firmly in her mouth, a slight blush rose to Tempest’s cheeks as she continued speaking, “We are educators, and we were all young once,” She stopped herself from adding some of us more recently than others, somehow Tempest didn’t think the others would appreciate her own brand of humor. “Skirting the hard jobs just leads to even harder consequences. I, for one, am all for this,”

After kicking herself mentally for her own lack of filter, Tempest offered another small smile before burying her face behind her cup of tea, gulping greedily and scalding her tongue in the process.

“If it’s not Nadge’s hut, they’ll find somewhere else, Professor Storm.”
“They already do!” He agreed, corner of his mouth curling in a smirk.

“I agree with Professor Aldridge,” Nagde’s replacement piped up. Ignan gave the healer a curious look, mostly because she’d not said all that much to him since joining the staff. “... I, for one, am all for this.” The Deputy Headmaster’s eyebrows raised. He looked to all intents as if he might take a strip off one of them with some terse words.

“Ladies, you do judge so easily. Of course we shall manage the problem,” he replied, addressing the assembled colleagues as well as the two witches who had responded immediately. “But I am an advocate of regular prevention, rather than dedicating a whole day to it. Presents it as some sort of ceremony, rather than normalcy, in my view. Then again,” he lowered his chin to regard Tempest, given her implication, “I am of a different generation.”

Ignan’s education in these matters had been decidedly close-lipped from his parents. His father suggested he keep it in his trousers unless he could see himself marrying the girl. It was no shock that members of his extended family remained firmly in the closet until their thirties.

“I shall be only too happy to fetch up absconders,” he offered to his colleagues, and set his quill down primly to fold his arms “Though Merlin help them if they are holding their own workshops.”

On their way to the staff room (and everyone in it), Shona took one look at Rick’s face and laughed—loudly.

“Your face,” she cackled. “Your face.”

“<Shut up,>” Rick glowered, expression mutinous. The Spanish rolled off of his tongue, dark like an oil spill. “<Your face is stupid.>”

Which, of course, only set her off again. “Oh Rick,” she gasped, clutching her side. A hand reached out for him as his footsteps only sped up in reply. “No, no—waaaaaaaait.”

Expert werewolf though she was, hilarity had a crippling effect on her just like it did with everyone else, slowing her down enough that upon reaching the top of the steps, she was just in time to watch him stalk into the staff room. She caught the eye of a nearby, wide-eyed first year and shook her head ruefully. “Always so sensitive, that one.”

Rick’s head popped out of the doorway, looking like a murder just waiting to happen. Shona grinned. Beside her, the first year went meep.

And so it was just like that that Shona followed her brother into the room: cheerful and positively sunny with sibling glee. Compared to Rick’s stormier countenance, the disparity – and the cause – were only all the more noticeable.

Shona offered the headmistress a contrite smile as she dropped into the nearest available seat (a faded but cushy armchair she had begun to think of as hers)—and the conversation just as easily. “Oh, would you?” she directed at Ignan, cooing. She was practically batting her eyes. “I know Rick would appreciate it.” She flashed Rick a wide smirk.

Who only scowled back, of course. But he didn’t deny it.

Out of all of them, it seemed like he was having the most luck – or lack thereof, as it were – coming across students in various states of disarray. Back in September, it had been Amherst and Kemp in the Muggle Studies office. Then in February, it was Todd, Zamperia and Trishna… with the fluttering remnants of Todd’s absymal taste in porn. Just last night it had been Flickwick and Virgil, of the aforementioned episode at Nagde’s hut. And that was only a few instances.

Between then and now, he had taken more points than most professors ever did in a year. It was still fun – and not a little satisfying; Ravenclaw, he believed, should have tanked a long time ago – but…

Handsome features lifted into a pleasant smile, one that deepened laugh lines and oozed with insincerity. “By all means,” he said, gesturing at Ignan before sweeping the rest of the room with the same look. “I’d be happy to trade shifts with anyone who wants.”

He had spent the better part of last night trying to burn out the smell of SophieandVirgil from his nose with the blackest coffee he could muster.

Camille shuffled in her seat from welcoming Patrick to sit beside her to listening to them all. Ignan was delightfully grumpy as ever, and she avoided his gaze, mostly not to undermine him as he was subtly pulling rank. The Donovans were polar opposites in manner as they joined the table, Camille was intrigued.

“I’d be happy to trade shifts with anyone who wants.” Rick offered in response to Ignan’s offer to round up missing students.

“Oh no darling,” Camille replied, gesturing a hand in Rick’s direction in a fond manner, “You’ve a very important job on Sunday. Nobody could possibly swap with you.” She grinned and gave a wink to Shona who appeared more than a little amused at her brother’s situation.

With the chilly weather,  cardigans and fleece-lined tights were absolute life savers. As was a hot cup of tea, warming her hands. She was sitting next to Ignan, having arrived shortly after Butler. There was somewhat uneasy feeling in her stomach that the witch simply could not shake. As of late, she had grown concerned with him without being able to pinpoint why. As a result, she made more visits to his office than usual citing mundane reasons such as, "I had a vision that you needed a warm drink" or "just wanted to say hello."

To be fair, she had been feeling concerned about everybody and everything lately. It had been a trying year for most everybody in the room. Perhaps she was so used to disaster striking every two weeks that she was just waiting for the next one to happen. Ignan was older, maybe she was being a little age-ist.

The topic of conversation kept her amused-- Merlin, Camille and Shona were hilarious.  Up until now, Mai listened rather than contributed to discussion.

"The students now are every bit as sexually active as they were when I was a student. I would know." She interjected, "Regardless of Connor Todd's influence and lessons he may, or may not be giving." She wasn't sure if Ignan was trying to be funny on purpose, but Mai had nearly choked at his earlier comment. She offered her coworkers a mild but mischievous smile,  "For every couple we catch, there's at least fifteen that we have missed."

She shrugged casually, "It's better to educate them on how to be safe and healthy about it. We can't stop them, but we can at least provide them with the tools to make an informed choice rather than relying on hearsay, porn, and... Works of fiction."

“Mmm, Camille, I’ve been meaning to invite Johann for dinner for ages now. And perhaps bribe him to speak with a class or two, too. Where’s the best place to send an owl lately?”

Juliette, such a lovely colleague, always received a pleasant audience from Camille. She moved with such grace and consideration, spoke with a beautiful voice, and such a striking mane of hair! Guilty of swapping stories about Paris and places to eat when their paths crossed, she was sure they might entertain longer conversations if duties did not press them. Her husband, on the other hand, the Belgian witch could never quite put her finger on. The was something of Landis Morgan that kept everyone on their toes, but he was undoubtedly a very clever man indeed, and Juliette's lifelong partner.

"Oh, he is terrible..." Camille raised her eyes disparagingly. "Here let me write it down for you. He's settled in with Balfour since just before Christmas." She flipped to the back of her notebook and found loose parchment to note the London address for her. "Best bribed with good wine, books or stationery, but you know how he is. Though always has had a soft spot for you." She reached over the parchment to Juliette with a knowing smile. Yet another witch there on Wolfgang's hopeful fiancee list for their son in years past.

"Patrick! Do come join us." The arithmancy professor greeted their colleague with enthusiasm, gesturing to an adjacent chair. "How are things? You must join us for a bottle of wine one evening, I feel I've barely spoken to you and you've been here more than a month."

"That would be most delightful Camille.

 As for the other matter in my day there were only alarms if boys entered the girls dorms and not vice versa. Perhaps we should make things more equal in this day and age."