Ask any of the present or former pupils of Hogwarts and without a single exception they will tell you that Professor Albus Dumbledore is the kindest of men, a prince among wizards, a gentle guru of magic.

Except, they will tell you as an afterthought, on the day of his monthly staff meeting.

On the first Thursday of each month, when Dumbledore sets out to meet his academic colleagues, he is invariably in a humour so foul that the wiser Hogwarts pupils, were they to be offered a choice between an encounter with Dumbledore or a week in a damp cave with Lord Voldemort, would immediately opt for the company of the Dark Lord.

It was said that the majority of the amphibious creatures resident in Hogwarts' s lake were, in fact, pupils who had been so negligent as to cross his path en route to meeting room four and a half in the East Tower.

On this particular delightful spring morning the few students who crossed his path were smart enough to dive for cover.

He took his chair at the meeting looking around with barely concealed distaste.

There they were, Snape, Lupin. McGonagall, Trelawney, Hooch and Hagrid. McGonangall had an IQ of her own; Snape was evil, the rest buffoons or idiots.

"Read the agenda please, Minerva."

Professor McGonagall obliged.

"Last month's minutes, funding for class excursions, appointment of new Professor of Defence against the Dark Arts..."

"What, another new Dark Art's Professor? What happened the last one?"

"Didn't you hear? He went down to the village for twenty Benson and Hedges and forgot his ID. A Dementor mistook him for Sirius Black and sucked his face off."

"Oh fu..., well, put another advert in the paper."

"Next item, "she began, but Dumbledore interrupted her.

"Can we defer all the normal items until next month? I have something important to bring up."

"Is about Voldemort being seen three times in the village this week?"

"Bugger Voldemort. Potter can usually deal with him. No, It's about this."

He dumped a large folder on the table.


Meanwhile, Hermione was in the darkest corner of the library, reading a paper entitled, "On the charming of bees" for the second time. She decided she must have missed something important the last time and, besides, she was not going back to the hive until her stings healed.

She dipped her favourite goose quill in her inkwell and began to write careful notes on her parchment.

Suddenly a shadow fell across her page and a figure slumped into the chair beside her.

"Hi, I'm Kyelly Flange. I'm from Arkansas and I am on an exchange program here for the next three months. We're born again wizards. We don't believe in giving medicine to poor people, just invading foreign countries with funny looking people."

She was tall and blonde, with skin that glowed and an endearing smile.

She looked at the parchment.

"You still use parchment and a quill? How quaint."

She looked closer.

"Studying bee charming? I have something here on my new laptop. See? It's really cool. It even has a spell checker, Yuck yuck."

She had a laugh like a welly being pulled out of a mudhole, and wore a set of braces on her teeth that reminded Hermione of the Great Western railway track.

Hermione wanted to turn her over and insert her wand in an unorthodox location, but instead smiled and held out her hand. She had been brought up to be nice.


At the meeting Dumbledore recited the grim facts.

"Thirteen births to our pupils in the last year. Eighteen pregnancies. We have had to have maternity robes designed, and had to order the new heavy duty Skybolt Maternity Brooms with baby seats."

"We are having an epidemic of teenage pregnancies and no-one knows what to do about it."

He passed the folder around.

Trelawney took out a folder of baby pictures.

"What luvly ickle babies. Wouldn't you just love to cuddle them?"

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed. It was Trelawney who had advised him on future trends in the stock market, with the result that his retirement fund now amounted to three and a half galleons, in consequence of which he would be nursmaiding evil little wizardlets until he died.

"Pass them around please."

Hagrid asked, "What have we done to stop it? I find that Hippogriffs soon stop it if you throw icy water on them."

The sound of Dumbledore gritting his teeth silenced everyone.

"If we could find them while they are at it that might work, or if we had a hundred people with buckets of water. Look at this."

He stood up and pulled down a huge parchment with a large-scale map of Hogwarts.

"Displaymus studenti."

"Pardon? "said the map in a snooty kind of voice.

"Show all students," he snarled.

Hundreds of dots appeared on the map, some isolated, some in groups.

"Now show all students in pairs within six inches of each other."

About fifty couples appeared.

"There, look, they are at it like weasels," he snarled.

Minerva whispered something to him.

He reddened.

"Now show all the couples of opposite er... genders within six inches of each other."

It complied, "There, you see it, a dozen We'll have more Mothercare bags here than schoolbags before Christmas."

"What else have we tried?" Hagrid asked, in a hurt kind of voice.

"We put a condom machine in the Slytherin toilets. Someone vandalized it and wrote, "This chewing gum tastes like rubber" on it."

"Perhaps if we tried sex education," Hagrid boomed, but in a quiet, shy voice.

"Nonsense, there is no room on the curriculum."

By now the folder of baby pictures had reached Minerva McGonagle. She picked up a baby picture and glowered at Snape.

"Severus, I am aware of your dislike for Potter. However, much as I admire your knowledge of potions, I do think that drawing little round glasses on half of the babies, and painting little scars on their foreheads, is especially vindictive and should be beneath you as a senior member of the academic staff. And it highlights your ignorance of genetics. Everyone knows that, while scars can be inherited, glasses can not."

Snape pouted, "I'll bet he is responsible. Everyone knows he sneaks around at night with that cloak of invisibility over his head. We'd have none of this trouble if he put something over his...."

"Severus, please!" Dumbledore shouted, "And I think you are partially to blame. While your new module on "Muggle potions" is admirable, teaching fifteen-year-olds to make Rohypnol is very immature."

Snape muttered, "You have no objection to my putting Ritalin in the water supply to keep the little buggers quiet."

"That, Severus, is different. From now on the ingredients for Rohypnol must be kept locked away. For God's sake think you lot, think. It is spring. They'll be at it like rabbits. "

Minerva smiled, "Locked away. That gives me an idea."

She explained and Dumbledore guffawed, "The laundry elves will not have as much to complain about if this works. Little grovelling bastards."


By midnight, all the pupils were sound asleep. Dumbledore and the academic staff were ready. As the great clock struck its last tone Albus stuck out his wand and went "Doremus Allus Pulilli Snoozykins."

In the dormitories, little changed, but gradually the breathing of the each student grew heavier.

"Let's go."

Outside was a cart loaded with bags, each labelled with a pupil's name. Filch dragged it behind the staff, Dumbledore striding ahead.

"WTF," he shouted, falling over an invisible object.

"It's Potter," said Snape, "In his concealing cloak, out after lights-out."

He grinned, evilly. "This means expulsion."

"No it doesn't, it mean's he's first for the treatment."

And Dumbledore pulled a bag from the cart. It clanked.


Harry had an unchanging morning ritual since his first day at Hogwarts.

He would set his alarm five minutes early, and as soon as he woke Mr. Happy Sock came out from under the pillow and his hand crept downwards.

"What the F...." Harry roared as his hand found gleaming metal instead of his little friend.

Similar roars of anger and shock echoed from every dormitory as the pupils woke up.

At breakfast there was consternation, everyone ignoring his or her lovely grey porridge and liver to complain loudly and gesticulate downwards.

"Attention please," it was Dumbledore.

"I regret it has been necessary to employ chastity belts, but there has been an excessive number of teenage pregnancies here over the past year and we have had to do something. All of you are now in chastity belts."

Hermione turned to Fergus and whispered, "A chastity belt for men? How does that work?"

"Shhh" said Harry.

Dumbledore went on, "Belts which are held in place by a modesty charm, a coital curse and a brass padlock."

Fergus was whispering, "A piece of bent pipe..."

Dumbledore beamed, "And of course an anti-removal device with an ounce of plastic explosive. Any of the boys who try to cut theirs off will be riding their brooms sidesaddle."

Harry tried to concentrate, but Fergus's whisper was penetrating, "with a ring through your..."

Dumbledore was still going on. "We will of course be prepared to remove them under certain circumstances. If the pupil reaches the age of eighteen, has a signed pre-nuptial agreement and wedding invitations for all the staff we may consider it."


The days passed, the atmosphere of gloom over Hogwarts growing ever deeper.

Hermione woke from a dream that involved large numbers of carrots marching around Hogwarts carrying flags. "Huh whassup?"

"Psst, it's me Kyelly. We need to talk."

"For fuck's sake, it's 4 a.m!"

"I know, but I need your advice. You know I am a born again wizard. We do not believe in sex before marriage. So I should not be wearing this."

She hit her stomach and it clanged.

"Do you think if I told Dumbledore I was born again, would he get them to take it off? "

Hermione lay back in her bed.

"Yes, I am sure he would agree. But wait until the day after tomorrow. Stop him on the way to the staff meeting. He is at his best then."


Not a lot happens in the lake at Hogwarts. Frogs and toads and newts get born, they reproduce in a variety of unspeakable ways, they eat revolting insects, they get eaten. The only excitement is when strange ones come along to join the community, often wearing unlikely robes.

Two toads sat on a log in the drizzle.

A grey green object hopped up, croaked dismally, and hopped on.

"Curious that, Nigel."

"What Leo? Looked like an ordinary frog to me."

"With braces on its teeth?"