Just to prove that I can write something containing less that 50,000 words :)
This started as a scene in the fic that I'm currently trying to put together but then seemed to be strong enough to work as a one shot. Hope you like it.
Many thanks to LisaT for acting as Beta.
Imogen Drill settled down onto a chair in the staff room and stretched out her legs, wincing as she felt her muscles complain at the action. It had been something of a trying morning, attempting to get the 2nd years to understand the importance of cross-country running. The girls had stood there in the driving rain, looking distinctly less than impressed at the news that they were expected to run 2 miles through the dense woodland before lunch. Several girls had developed convenient coughs and Imogen suspected that magic was at the bottom of the bout of small pox that Belinda Briarswood claimed to have suddenly developed.
Imogen pushed the thoughts of the morning from her mind and turned her attention to the magazine that had arrived in the post for her. It was rare to find such peace and tranquillity in the staff room and she was determined to make the most of it. Davina was seated across from her, knitting needles clicking away nineteen to the dozen, working on something that looked like it would only fit someone who happened to have arms longer than an ape. Miss Cackle was dozing in a worn looking old arm chair, occasionally twitching and muttering something about rabbits.
Imogen tuned out the noise and began reading an article about a man who claimed to have encountered inexplicable adverse weather conditions whilst trekking across the Rocky Mountains. She was only a few paragraphs into the article when she heard the chair across from hers scrape back. Miss Bat was wide-eyed in fear and scrabbling to get to her feet as though something particularly terrifying were after her.
Imogen opened her mouth to ask Davina what was going on but before she could utter a word, her colleague snatched a handful of flowers from the vase on the table and bolted for the stationary cupboard.
The door to the cupboard had barely shut when the door to the staff room was flung open and Constance strode in, her face like thunder.
Imogen looked from the stationary cupboard to Constance and back again, trying to work out if Davina had really been able to sense the anger that must have been radiating from the potions teacher as she made her way down the corridor.
Imogen took one look at the expression on Constance's face and tried to think of another time when she'd seen her colleague look so angry; although it seemed to Imogen that Constance was almost permanently in a state of fury, she wasn't sure that she'd ever seen her looking quite so determined about it.
She was quietly relieved that it was Miss Cackle who broke the tension in the air.
"What is it Constance?" Amelia yawned as she struggled back to full consciousness.
Constance opened her mouth to say something but her anger wouldn't let her articulate a single word; she remained standing in the doorway, her whole body shaking with barely contained fury.
"What's Mildred Hubble done this time?" Amelia's voice was tinged with fear. In the past two years, Mildred had been the cause of the majority of Constance's outbursts in the staff room and it had gotten to the stage where Amelia believed that Mildred was capable of turning any situation into an unmitigated disaster.
Constance again tried to articulate her feelings but she was unable to form a single word. Stiffly, she made her way across the room and dropped down onto the table the book she had been holding in her left hand. It thudded down onto the surface, causing the teacups that sat there to rattle in their saucers.
"I can't believe that I found this….this volume within the school." Constance finally found her voice and spat the words out as though they were poison.
Imogen looked down at the title of the book and felt her heart sink. She glanced towards the cupboard where Davina had bolted, and wondered fleetingly if there was still room inside for her.
"I can't believe that someone had the temerity to bring this… this filth within the school." Constance fumed. "I thought that the school made it perfectly clear where it stood when it came to this particular type of literature."
"We can't stop the girls from reading." Amelia tried to reason with her colleague. "We all know how inquisitive young girls are…"
"But to read such wantonly wayward material!" Constance persisted. "Something really has to be done."
Amelia sighed, now Constance had gotten onto the subject, there was very little chance of stopping her. Although, to a certain extent she agreed with her colleague, she didn't seem to have the same zeal when it came to the complete suppressing of the material.
"Just look at it!" Constance spat and flicked a hand in the direction of the heavy book. It snapped open and the pages flicked by. "It talks about Wizards flying on broomsticks. Everyone who has ever had even the slightest contact with the arts knows that Wizards do not fly. And look here…" Constance flicked the pages on a little further. "They use wands…Pphhhh, no-one has used wands in centuries. And there is a girl at the school! It purports to be a book about wizards and there are girls present. A mixed school…We all know where that kind of arrangement would lead were it to be allowed, but more importantly the girls are described as wizards, female wizards. It's quite preposterous. Boys are wizards, girls are witches, everyone knows that."
Constance folded her arms tightly across her chest. "And as for the teachers, I've never seen such a motley collection of sociopaths; you'd never find anyone that unhinged, or that pernicious working with young minds. Look at the potions teacher, a wantonly humourless and malicious character who seems to be out to destroy the hero of the novel with an almost missionary zeal. In short the whole thing is quite ridiculous and to my mind should be banned."
"We've tried this before." Amelia tried to console Constance but Constance was having none of it.
"We've obviously not tried hard enough. Action must be taken Headmistress; things have to change. We cannot allow such corrupting material to poison the minds of our girls." Her piece said Constance disappeared out of the room in a puff of furious smoke.
Imogen looked at the book on the desk and the image of the dragon that blazed across the front of it. She could never understand the fury that the presence of this series of books seemed to engender in the staff of the school. She shrugged her shoulders and swore once again that she'd never fully understand her colleagues: she'd always rather liked Harry Potter.