24 September 2012
9am on a Monday
Fearsithe Hall, Edinburgh
Emergency convention of the Hogwarts School Governors

This morning the Hogwarts Board of School Governors, twelve in all not including valets and secretaries, were meeting in earnest upon the call of esteemed member Minerva McGonagall. Fearsithe Hall, a cavernous room covered in dark wood paneling and griffin imagery, would serve as venue as it had many times before. The board was not prone to working off schedule and many found the short notice and awkward time inconvenient worth grumbling about. Minerva McGonagall's word carried more power than her wand, however, and if she thought the matter pressing then the others would not effectively defy her.

The purpose of the meeting could be guessed at, but it didn't have to be in order for the gist to be known. In the previous twenty-four hours, several of the governors had been approached and clued in. Some were given more information than others, depending on their feelings towards Headmaster Knox Greyfriar. It was known by all, though, that Greyfriar was to be delivering to the board urgent information that could not wait nor carried by owl. No, it was a matter of imminent urgency and national importance.

It was either Greyfriar being dramatic again, or true.

After all, no one had died had they. Had they?

While the governors and staff arranged themselves around the large table, shuffling scrolls, dipping quills, lighting braziers, arranging cakes on a tray, Knox Greyfriar himself waited quietly in a chair nearby. He had his hands folded in his lap, one leg crossed over the other, and he was tapping his foot in the air.

The audacity of Greyfriar was extraordinary. To call meetings, with so little a heads up and with so vague a premise, it struck Peter Coffin as disrespectful and haughty, given how much the man owed the governors.

Of course, this governor was particularly displeased, given the relative leisure with which Greyfriar answered his own letters. Clearly he didn't realize the board's members all had jobs of their own - McGonagall aside, but she was clearly on board with this. Suffice it to say, this had been quite a disruption to the lawyer's job, as he had to postpone an assortment of meetings with private clients and a job interview with a promising young witch.

He sat himself down and perused his papers, holding them far enough away that he could see without his reading glasses - he was rather in denial that he needed them.

Not that Hyperion knew but he was thinking the same as Peter Coffin. The Ministry liked their people being Governors. It allowed them to keep close tabs on the school. But Monday morning?

"Good morning all." Greeted Perry politely. Because manners always helped matters. "An emergency meeting always shakes up the start of the week." He slid his smart suit jacket off his shoulders. Hung it carefully on the back of his chair. Sure to keep the creases perfect.

Peter Coffin was in denial that he needed glasses. The man could not even bring himself to charm the text bigger. Knox Greyfriar was wiggling a foot. The others better hurry up. He had potions to brew.

Francis Pepper would never admit it to the other governors, but this was the second time he’d experienced that morning. The weird and wonderful way that time worked with a time turner meant he’d been at this meeting simultaneously as he had been in the workshop. He’d just left a time turner to test until Monday lunchtime to ensure it. That was definitely long enough for the emergency meeting, even by the waffling standards of some of his fellow governors.

McGonagall’s home was dominated by fellow wizards when he arrived, a moment after Gamp, one of the newer governors and at the younger end. He’d replaced another of the family as far as Pepper remembered. There were more Gamps than Peppers, it was hard to keep track of them even if they came to his brother’s annual summer garden party. This one was a fellow unspeakable, so Francis knew of him from the potions research team.

“An emergency meeting always shakes up the start of the week.”

“Just like the day job.” Francis agreed, taking his seat on the opposite side of the table. He didn’t bother hanging up his jacket, it was nothing new and probably almost as old as Theta, his niece and apprentice.

“Emergencies aside, how’s tricks, Knox?” Francis smiled at the Headmaster supportively.

He was, as a rule, an early riser. Balthair had arrived with the first of them and become a silent fixture - all the better to listen, to take stock of the other governors assembling this morning. It was easy. He lived and breathed Edinburgh, and felt exceedingly at home in any quarter of it including the wonderful hall.

Some might have found it difficult to tell if the old wizard was awake. He sat very still in his good kilt - of Spectre tartan - and a fine navy fisherman's sweater. His eyes seemed to droop in boredom, though he kept one hand quite firm on the walking stick in which his wand slept.

Greyfriar seemed primed to begin - if so, he was not alone. To be called on such short notice... better to get to the heart of things right away.

But this old man was old enough to be patient, and listened to the others settling in amiably enough.

        “Emergencies aside, how’s tricks, Knox?” asked Pepper, for whom he had some fondness.

"Yes," said Balthair, eyes coming open properly as he turned his snowy head in the Headmaster's direction. "How goes it, Greyfriar? Is all else well in hallowed halls?" he smiled dryly. "Putting aside the obvious."

Knox Greyfriar in person on a Monday was basically and easy gent to get along with. He didn't mind small talk at all even when he was about to do something strange. If things were all about to go pear-shaped, well, at least he had this blessed little calm before it did.

"Oh, yes, well, missing my garden," Knox said. He had a small cottage in a grove in the south of England and he liked his summers tending cucumbers and waiting for pumpkins. He had to do what he could before the first of September since he could only sneak away on weekends. "I really ought to take someone to look after it when I'm away. Your families are well, I trust?"

The Pepper students currently at Hogwarts usually were, and Feliks Spectre seemed to be settling in better than last year.

"You know how it is. Fifth years and all that," said Peter Coffin grouchily at the mention of families. He was sure the headmaster had received his recent letters but just hadn't gotten around to brushing him off again.

He set down his papers and zeroed in on the headmaster. It was clear that Greyfriar wasn't too eager to get started right away.

"I do understand the sorting situation is giving my daughter some distress."

He had groused about that before, but it was always good to reiterate.

Minerva McGonagall sat at the head of the table, hands folded together on the surface. Perhaps it was the look on her face, or perhaps people had finally caught on that she did not care for small talk, but no one tried to bring her into their conversations. When the shuffling of chairs and the rustling of parchment began to be replaced by chatter, Minerva cleared her throat for silence.

"I believe that's a perfect place to begin, thank you, Mr. Coffin," her voice was calm, collected, "In a moment I'll turn over the floor to the Headmaster who has some information he would like to share, but first I believe it is time for us, myself in particular, to apologize to Headmaster Greyfriar for our hand in the sorting matter. The sword of Godric Gryffindor should never have been left to gather dust in some museum and it is we who are responsible. Knox could not have known the whereabouts of the sword, but we did. There has been quite a lot of blame thrown at the Headmaster's feet and I apologize," Minerva truly held most of the blame. Not only was she on the board when Reid loaned the thing out, but she had also replaced him as headteacher - a relic from her own house, missing, and she'd not noticed once.

Pointing out their blame, perhaps shaming them a bit, would make them less likely to immediately vote for Knox's removal from Hogwarts - at least that was the hope.

"Now, unless there are any urgent matters that need to be addressed, I would like to invite Headmaster Knox Greyfriar to speak," They had done what they could beforehand, but what Knox chose to say now could make all that effort pointless. If he didn't speak the exact right words, in exactly the right way and exactly the right time, he might as well start packing his bags.

The current Headmaster of Hogwarts stepped to the end of the table and resisted the urge to pace like a university lecturer which would be out of taste when he knew some would soon decide he belonged in a witness box.

"Governors, today I submit to you my resignation from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for a second time under much different constellations than the first time. To offer an explanation: in 1981," (a year all in the room would know well), "I absconded with forty-one wands that Death Eaters had taken from their victims. I hid them away, kept them safe, but not once did I tell anyone that I had them. I suspect that had recent events not transpired, I would have kept their secret to the end. Three days ago, I was served with an ultimatum - resign from Hogwarts or the truth would be spread far and wide.

"Ever uncooperative am I, two days after that, I provided the wands to Professor McGonagall who has promised to take them to the National Museum of Wizarding History where they can be identified and returned. Perhaps on that day in 1981, my inaction would not have been unremarkable, but the burden of this secret has grown every day since then, keeping open the wounds of loss of the loved of those forty-one hands."

He cleared his throat and produced a small scroll from his cloak - the resignation letter, which he placed on the table.

"For their sake, I hope the wands can be returned. For the sake of Hogwarts, I hope you will consider ... then reject this resignation."

He had been silent up save for an acknowledging nod in lieu of a greeting, until now. The summons had taken him by surprise but Mordecai was no stranger to being abruptly called up to deal with some issue or other - the nature of his office was such that he dealt with sudden news without much objection. If he had been given information, he did not care to show it nor did it influence his mood or judgement. A clear head and an unburdened heart to be a picture of neutrality, which he was now.

But ever curious due to the investigative nature of his work, Mordecai finally lowered his hands, having had them steepled the whole time - a subtle gesture to those who understood it. "Your situation provides a lot of curious information, Greyfriar." He was familiar with the older wizard but only just; Mordecai held no grudges against Knox. His own opinion was purely neutral. "Such as why you stashed away that many wands for that long, or as to the intent of whosoever sent you that ultimatum.

"But I am not concerned with the past or parties unknown to us. What I'm concerned with is that this decision is clearly not made lightly. You chose to rectify the situation as was demanded of you. Did the ultimatum also include the need to publicise the decision and call for pre-emptive support in case of a protest at your past inaction?" He raised his eyebrows.

"To what end is this supposed to achieve? You've called us here to submit a serious proposal and then ask us to reject it. If I were an assuming man I would have decided such a request would mean this proposal is largely performative in intent, but I am not an assuming man and I would prefer to hear your intentions if you would care to share them with all who are present."

He looked around the table, once Greyfriar had spoken. Perplexed. Yes, that was how Balthair felt at this moment.

Hollingbury was the first to speak and he did indeed speak sense, as one might expect. He brought up a notion not to be taken lightly at all; should this information become public, to what extent were they expected to defend their decision to reject a resignation? The old wizard sighed, tapping the handle of his walking stick irritably.

"Yes," he echoed Mordecai. "What is expected of us, should we comply with your hope? I take it that will not be the end of matters."

Balthair cleared his throat then, sitting forward. "And while some here may not be so concerned with parties unknown to us," he spoke carefully, "I would like to know why it is you held on to those wands, Greyfriar. There has since been another war, yet even then you kept them. Is it neglect you're confessing to?"

Two wars, he'd lived through, to see families destroyed and disraught in the aftermath. Any wizard with a heart and a head would have long ago returned those relics to their rightful places.

Greyfriar had pivoted from missing his garden to the first war so suddenly with Minerva’s call to order. Francis felt like he might have seen himself twice purely for the whiplash.

“Three days ago, I was served with an ultimatum - resign from Hogwarts or the truth would be spread far and wide.”

The news came so far out of Pepper’s expectations he was stunned into silence as he digested the information. Mordecai spoke first, very reasonably, supported by Balthair, asking further questions. Francis looked from one to the other, blinking much more than his norm.

When it seemed as if he was looked to for input, he placed his hands flat upon the tabletop.
“My fellow governors put forth good points and questions,” he looked back and forth between them, “this has taken me quite by surprise, I must admit.”

Perry looked incredulous. The older governors asked questions.

"And this has nothing to do with the sorting hat issue?"

It was not the time to lose a headmaster.

Peter looked at Greyfriar like he'd seen a ghost. Knox Greyfriar, involved with the death eaters.

On some level, it almost made Coffin respect the man more - he didn't think the werewolf was much good at keeping secrets.

He looked between the governors. Perry Gamp made a great point.

"I would not be surprised if it is. There has been a lot going on in the castle to make people angry."

He wouldn't endorse blackmail - not openly, anyway - but if the blackmailer was concerned with how things were being run, then he could have some sympathy with that.

"I do think the headmaster is right to place the decision in our hands of his own volition. It's our role to do what's best for Hogwarts."

There were signals being sent here - Peter Coffin was willing to set his position on werewolves aside and support Greyfriar - given a good reason.

The old bear held quiet as the most vocal of the governors put their questions to him. There were no sweaty brows nor did anyone materialize a gavel to bang. He found himself calmer than he thought he would be, his stomach more settled. He'd faced scrutiny before, but he'd never gone running straight toward it. Knox, for a moment, felt like he was seventeen again. When he blinked, though, he was back. The Governors were waiting.

He spoke to Hyperion Gamp first, unable to keep a wry tilt from his lip. "Mister Gamp, if the Sorting Hat were offended by the likes of me to the point of dysfunction, I think this will not have been the first time there were unsorted First Years. I would not aspire to be so vexing."

Then to the group at large, his hands still clasped docilely behind his back, he said, "the reasons I held for keeping the wands hidden for these past thirty years changed with the seasons. At first, I feared the retribution of the Death Eaters who I saw make good many times on their capricious vengeance. Later, I feared the Wizengamot, who seemed vengeful as well, ardent in wiping away any trace of grey. When the cycle repeated, so did my reasons. In the end I had only the fear of facing my own shame."

Knox might have served himself better if he wasn't so practiced at giving a talk. He spoke too easily and calmly of damning things.

"I don't pretend to know the job of journalists or investigators, blackmailers or school governors. But I do know that my place in the world now is at the head of Hogwarts School. If my first duty is to surrender the wands, I have done it. If my second duty is to the students of Hogwarts, here I am."

He tipped up one shoulder. "It seemed wiser than surrendering the wands and hoping this esteemed quorum wouldn't notice."