Obviously given the ages and timescale of all of these characters, this wouldn't actually have happened. But it doesn't matter; there are way too many similarities between teachers and professors at magical schools. Here is a scenario to enjoy. Jill Murphy and J.K. Rowling are to blame.

Knocking on the door, Miss Drill waited to enter. Hearing the usual impatient 'Yes?' she opened the door to see Miss Hardbroom sitting at her desk sorting out essays to mark. Even in her room the stern teacher kept on working, her back straight, her eyes focused on the papers in front of her. Imogen gestured to the cup of tea she'd brought. Constance looked at her briefly.

'Thank you Miss Drill.'

'I'll put it on the desk, shall I?'

'That would be most welcome.'

Imogen placed the cup of tea on the desk, noting the precise angled position of all of the books and stationary. She sighed. Miss Hardbroom's OCD was alive and well, ruling her classroom and bedroom with iron efficiency. Her eyes swept around the room, alighting on something rather curious. As she had never been in Miss Hardbroom's room before, she couldn't say it was unusual exactly but the uncharacteristic object certainly didn't look like it belonged there. A framed photograph. Sitting on her sparse dressing table. Imogen wasn't close enough to see who was in it but she could guess at two people. Neither one of them seemed to be Miss Hardbroom. Imogen motioned to it.

'Friends of yours?'

Miss Hardbroom cast a puzzled look over at the dressing table. She frowned. 'Yes. Sort of.' She went back to marking.

Imogen realised she wouldn't be getting any more conversation out of her and turned to leave.

Back in the staffroom, the other teachers sat doing their own thing. Miss Cackle reading a book, Miss Drill lifting her weights and Miss Bat rearranging flowers in the bowl, nibbling on a petal every so often.

A commotion from downstairs caught the attention of the Headmistress and laying down her book, she got up to see what the noise was about. She had no need, for the trouble was ascending to her. Coming up the stairs was an odd couple arguing with each other. She, tall and thin with an emerald green scarf wrapped around her neck and rectangle glasses, he dressed all in black.

'If we had rented better brooms, we would have got there quicker, Severus.'

'I could have gotten here by bat.'

'Well it's alright for some.'

'Would you like to make the travel arrangements next time Minerva? Cattify yourself perhaps and hitchhike?'

'There is no need to be rude, Severus. Next time we'll disapparate, it'll be much quicker.'

'Not sure we'll bother with a next time, this place is a dump.'

'Ahem.' Miss Cackle felt like she had to step in and defend her Academy from the insult. 'Can I help you?'

'Yes. We are looking for Constance Hardbroom.' The lady shook off her cloak and draped it on the nearest chair, all over Miss Bat. She squeaked and ran into the staffroom cupboard, her sanctuary for when she was upset.

Miss Cackle looked disapprovingly at the cupboard for a second and carried on. Miss Drill dropped her weights, startled at the thought of more magic.

'Whom may I ask is calling for her?'

'She knows who we are. We're Professors' said the man, taking out a wand and fiddling with his unravelling sleeve. The witches stared. In Cackle's Academy, nobody used wands. The lady noticed and explained. 'We're from Hogwarts.'

Miss Drill was baffled. There were more schools for magic? Miss Cackle understood. She had no idea why teachers from Hogwarts School were here but she suspected Miss Hardbroom would have reason to contact them, perhaps over supplies and teaching methods.

'I'll just call her down.'

Excusing herself past the man through the door, she bellowed 'HB! There are Hogwarts people here to see you!'

'Secondary school, dear' she enlightened Miss Drill. 'The most established magic school there is in Britain.' Miss Drill did not look happy.

Before long, footsteps were heard. Miss Hardbroom appeared with her cup of tea.

'Visitors for you.' Miss Cackle went back to her chair and sat down with her book. She had done her part. Miss Drill was watching the scene in front of her, weights forgotten.

Miss Hardbroom stopped in front of them, face incredulous.

'Hello Constance, nice to see you. We thought we'd drop in for the evening, have a catch up.' She embraced the teacher; he put an arm around her, planting a kiss on her cheek.

'How is everything Constance?'

'What are you doing here?' Miss Hardbroom looked furious.

'That's no way to greet your mother. I brought you a box of your favourite ginger newts and this is how you greet me?' she reprimanded her.

'Your mother?!' Miss Drill was taken aback. Miss Cackle's eyes shot up from her book. Miss Bat opened the door to the staffroom cupboard cautiously.

Miss Hardbroom sighed and reluctantly introduced the couple.

'These are my parents. Professors McGonagall and Snape. They work at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.'

Miss Cackle murmured 'Welcome to Cackle's.' she stopped herself on the next sentence, wondering if they were married. Professor McGonagall responded acidly 'estranged.'

'Thankfully' muttered Professor Snape. She shot him a look of irritation. He gave her one back. They could apparently both read minds. Miss Cackle gave up.

Miss Drill looked at the couple and at Miss Hardbroom. She noted the identical dark haired bun of Professor McGonagall and the penetrating dark eyes of Professor Snape. Both of them almost all in black, similar irate expressions. They looked strict and authoritarian. Oh yes, these were Miss Hardbroom's parents all right.

Miss Bat fell out of the cupboard with a squeak. Miss Cackle sighed. 'Put the tea on Miss Bat will you? We'll be here for the rest of the evening.'