THE HEADMASTER'S FIRST DAY
Viridis woke the next morning to the sound of pounding outside his bedroom door. He bolted upright in bed and stared at the unfamiliar surroundings, assuming he was in some kind of trouble, until he remembered where he was and what had happened the night before. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, hoping this wasn't all just a dream.
The pounding started up again, and this time Viridis realized it was coming from the office door. He leapt out of bed, raced into the office, and threw open the door to find Dawn standing there, her face flushed.
"It's about time," she said. "I was afraid you'd gotten lost or something." Her gaze dropped to his chest and she frowned. "Did you sleep in your robes?"
Viridis followed her gaze. His robe was covered with wrinkles, and the large orange stain that marred the front of his robe looked suspiciously like last night's pumpkin dip.
"I was too tired to change," he said, scratching at the stain with a fingernail. He stopped and looked up in alarm. "Why were you banging on my door? Is something wrong? Did something happen?"
"Breakfast has happened," Dawn said. "At least it was supposed to have happened. Fifteen minutes ago. Everyone's in the hall, ready to eat, but the kitchen refuses to serve any food on the headmaster's first day until the headmaster arrives. Tradition, I guess. Anyway, hurry up and change your clothes. Everyone's waiting."
"Sorry," he said, heading back to his bedroom, "I didn't know—" He stopped and spun back around. "My clothes are still in Ravenclaw tower."
"Never mind." Dawn pushed him toward the door. "There's no time anyway. You'll have to go like this." She rushed him out of the office and down the stairs.
They hurried through the castle corridors, Viridis running his fingers through his hair while Dawn cast Scourgify and wrinkle removal spells on his robe. The din of hungry students greeted them as they approached the Great Hall.
The noise died away as the two of them entered. Students whirled around in their seats to catch their first glimpse of the new headmaster. As Viridis passed between the tables, the students burst into enthusiastic applause accompanied by raucous whistling and shouting. Viridis waved weakly, his face burning, and hurried on to the faculty table.
The instructors were noticeably less enthusiastic. They scrutinized Viridis in silence as he approached, their faces hard. Professor Limbeck's face was as grim as the stone gargoyles that decorated the castle walls. Dawn hurried to her seat at the end of the table and buried her face in her hands. Craig leaned back in his chair and grinned as if this was all a wonderful joke.
"It seems we're always waiting on you to arrive for meals," Limbeck growled as Viridis took his place on the large headmaster's chair just to the left of Limbeck.
"Sorry," Viridis mumbled.
"Maybe we should eat breakfast later in the morning," Craig said, his grin threatening to split his face. "Our new headmaster appears to be a late sleeper."
Viridis shot him an exasperated look. "No need for that."
"Do you find the job of headmaster exhausting?" asked Limbeck. He glared down at Viridis, his bloodshot eyes even more watery than Viridis remembered.
"No, of course not," stammered Viridis. The potionsmaster's face was so close, Viridis could count the veins in his eyes. "It's my fault for staying so late at the party."
Limbeck gave him a disparaging look before turning away.
"I've never missed breakfast for any reason," said Thornside, who sat on the other side of Viridis.
"It won't happen again," Viridis promised.
"Let us hope not." Thornside's gaze took in Viridis's disheveled robe. "We wouldn't want the students thinking their headmaster is a layabout."
An uncomfortable silence descended upon the table, broken only by the furious whispers of students throughout the hall. Viridis prayed the food would appear soon, but several minutes passed without a sign of anything edible.
Limbeck peered down at Viridis. "I believe the kitchen is waiting for you to summon the food."
Viridis gulped. "How do I do that?"
Limbeck closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I wouldn't know. I'm not the headmaster."
"Murmann would often clap his hands together," suggested Professor Searles, who sat a few seats away, wearing his usual bowtie and jacket. The maroon tie matched his red nose perfectly.
Viridis suspected there was probably more to it than that, but as he didn't have anything better to offer, he clapped his hands twice, the way he'd seen Murmann do it the previous night. To his immense relief, large platters loaded with biscuits and sausages appeared on the tables, prompting another cheer from the students.
The instructors ate breakfast in a stony silence. Viridis spent much of the meal casting furtive glances at each of them, trying to gauge their mood. Cory was the only one who seemed happy. Whenever Viridis caught any of the other instructors looking at him, they immediately turned away. The only exception was Professor Fulcanelli, who seemed to be watching him every time he checked.
They were most of the way through breakfast before Professor Searles finally broke the silence. "How were the festivities last night, headmaster? I didn't stay very long. People my age need our sleep."
"Apparently so do people the headmaster's age," Thornside muttered.
Viridis winced. "It was fun for a while, but I left when it turned boring.
Searles nodded. "Why don't you tell us something about yourself? I'm sure we're all anxious to learn about our new headmaster. What have you been up to since you graduated?"
"Well," Viridis began, "there's not much to tell—"
"In which branch of magic do you specialize?" demanded a short, roundish wizard who Viridis thought was the Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor. "Charms? Potions?"
"Um, I don't really have a specialty."
"What did you do before coming here?"
"I studied old magic items and figured out how they work. Sometimes I fixed them."
The instructor gaped at him. "You're a repairman?"
A flush crept up Viridis's neck. "Well, not exactly—"
"Viridis restores antique magical objects," Dawn added from the far end of the table. Several instructors exchanged concerned looks.
Searles cleared his throat. "Well I suppose we could certainly use someone around here with that talent. Things seem to be breaking around here with alarming frequency these days." He smiled encouragingly.
"What classes have you taught?" asked another instructor whose name Viridis couldn't remember.
"None."
The woman gasped. "You've never taught a class?"
"No, but I always thought teaching might be fun."
"Fun?" She looked scandalized. "Teaching is serious business."
"I didn't mean—"
"What schools have you worked at before this?" asked another instructor who Viridis was fairly sure taught history.
The rest of the instructors stopped eating, waiting for his answer. Drops of sweat rolled down Viridis's back. "I, uh, I've never worked at a school."
"But—what experience do you have with the profession of teaching?"
Viridis stared down at his plate, his cheeks beginning to burn. "None." The table turned deathly quiet, except for a lone spoon that clattered to the floor.
"So, uh… you'll be coming in with fresh eyes," Searles said, his earlier enthusiasm seemingly dampened. He cleared his throat again. "Enough about the past. What are your plans for your first day as headmaster?"
Viridis swallowed, his ears burning like hot coals. He hadn't thought about that yet. He wasn't exactly sure what headmasters were supposed to do. He grabbed his goblet and began gulping down orange juice, stalling for time. Why couldn't Murmann have waited a few days before leaving?
"My plan," he said when his goblet was empty, "is to learn the job of headmaster as quickly as possible." He scanned the faces at the table, hoping the answer was sufficient. "In the meantime, is there anything I can do to help any of you?"
"No," answered Limbeck, turning back to the food on his plate. "I think we're quite capable of performing our own jobs."
"I'm sure you are. I just want to help any way I can."
Thornside's look was condescending. "Hogwarts has been operating for centuries without your help. Most of us have been teaching for decades. We will let you know if we require your assistance."
"Don't be so quick to dismiss Viridis," Dawn said, her voice rising in pitch. "I'm sure there's something he can do to help out around here. Perhaps Professor Evergreen could use some assistance with planting."
The herbologist looked up from his plate, startled at the mention of his name. "All the fall planting is finished, thank you very much. But if the headmaster is looking for something to do, perhaps he could discuss the menu with the kitchen." He held up a sausage on his fork. "Our meals could use more vegetables."
"Limbeck could use help collecting the ingredients he uses in those potions of his," said Thornside. "He always seems to be running out, especially when I am in need of a particular elixir."
"I'm sufficiently well stocked for the term," Limbeck replied, glowering at Thornside, "but thank you for the kind thought. Since we're on the subject, perhaps Mr. Olwyn might be of some use in the area of tutoring."
"Some of the students?" Viridis asked, his spirits rising.
"I was thinking more along the lines of Professor Thornside's sister. I believe her skills are in need of polishing."
Thornside leaped out of his chair and glared down at Limbeck, sputtering, his face turning a frightening shade of purple. He gave Viridis one last withering look, then stormed away from the table and out of the hall. Limbeck smiled and returned to his meal. The rest of the table went silent.
Breakfast couldn't end quickly enough for Viridis.
"Could that have gone any worse?" Viridis asked Dawn after they left the hall. "The faculty already hates me."
"Nonsense," Dawn said. "They don't hate you. They're just going to need a little time to adjust, that's all. We're in the middle of the school year. Give them a chance to get to know you."
"What about Limbeck and Thornside? They actually seem angry with me."
"Don't worry about Limbeck. He wouldn't have liked whoever won. He'll come around.
"That's easy for you to say. You're not sitting next to him."
Dawn laughed. "Limbeck's always grumpy. You know that. He'll get over it soon enough."
"What about Thornside?"
Dawn pursed her lips. "Now that's a different story. Remember the witch you faced in the final competition?"
"Ceriwden?"
She nodded. "She's his sister."
Viridis groaned. "You're kidding."
"Afraid not. Thornside hoped she'd win and give him some leverage over Limbeck."
Viridis put his face in his hands. "I think I've made more enemies in the past week than I have my whole life."
"Like I said, they'll get over it. You're the headmaster now and they'll just have to get used to the idea." She stopped at the intersection of two corridors. "I have a class to teach. I'll see you later. By the way, what are your plans for this morning?"
"Go back to my office and get settled in." He paused. "Do you have any suggestions?"
"Yep. Show up on time for meals from now on."
After stopping by Ravenclaw tower and picking up his clothes, Viridis returned to his office to find a dozen owls waiting inside. All carried messages of congratulation, mostly from people he'd never heard of before. Even the Board of Governors had sent one.
Headmaster Olwyn,
Congratulations on winning the job of headmaster. We ask that you put together a status report on the current state of affairs at Hogwarts. It does not have to be long, fifty pages or so should suffice, but we would be most appreciative it if you could finish it as soon as possible. Please note anything unusual or out of the ordinary.
Thank you in advance for your prompt response.
Sincerely,
Elanor Pussmaid
Status report? He'd been headmaster less than twelve hours. He tossed the note on his desk and eyed the instruction manual. The Board could wait a day or two. His first task was to figure out what the headmaster of Hogwarts was supposed to do.
The book was heavier than it appeared and he nearly had to climb onto the desk in order to haul it open. The pages were composed of thin, ancient vellum, with gold leaf along the edges. Here and there, small rips and tears obscured the handwriting. In some places, the ink almost faded to illegible shadows.
There had to be tens of thousands of pages, and he had no idea where to begin. Picking a page at random, he found an entry discussing the best methods for removing magical weeds from the castle grounds. He flipped to another page and found a detailed note describing the sleepwalking habits of one of the statues of armor standing in the Great Hall. He jumped back several hundred pages and discovered a collection of juicy rumors about one of the castle ghosts from a previous century. There didn't appear to be any sort of pattern.
He skimmed through the book for an hour, hoping to find anything of use, but every page was the same—filled with gossip or tips or general observations about Hogwarts. Every so often, the handwriting would change, but that was about it. The "instruction manual" appeared to be little more than a collection of random notes and musings recorded over the centuries by previous headmasters. There was no index, or any other obvious way of finding a desired piece of information, except by sheer accident. He slumped back in his chair. He was on his own.
Dawn stopped by his office a little before lunch, two owls perched contentedly on her shoulders, both of them asleep. "Hungry?"
Viridis shook his head. The thought of facing the faculty again was ruining his appetite.
"Cheer up, I'm sure the reception will be better this time."
When they arrived at the Great Hall, both Cory and Searles made it a point to say hello to Viridis. A few of the other instructors nodded politely, but no one else spoke to him. Limbeck and Thornside ignored him completely, behaving as if the chair between them were empty. Viridis remained quiet through most of the meal, content with listening to the instructors talk amongst themselves.
When dessert was served, Thornside, after having spent most of the meal brooding in silence, turned to Limbeck. "In my opinion, we should investigate more thoroughly before we spend any money. Those quills are expensive."
"There's no need for further investigation," Limbeck growled. "I've tested them myself. They don't work."
Viridis glanced back and forth between the two of them, wondering if he should ask what they were discussing, but decided against it.
"Even if I were to take your word for it," Thornside replied, "that doesn't mean we should purchase new ones. The quills shouldn't have stopped working in the first place. Perhaps there's a counterspell at work. One of the students, I'll wager."
Limbeck grunted. "They're supposed to be tamper proof. And I found no evidence of hexes or jinxes."
"Then why don't they work?"
"I don't know. It defies explanation."
"What isn't working?" Viridis asked, unable to contain his curiosity any longer.
Both men stared at him as though he had just apparated into the headmaster's chair.
"It's not important," Limbeck said, looking away.
"It's the Anti-Cheating quills Limbeck hands out to his class during tests," said Thornside, a hint of smugness in his voice. "He wishes to purchase new ones. A waste of money if you ask me."
"They're not preventing students from cheating?" Viridis asked.
"Worse," Limbeck said, turning back to Viridis with a scowl. "The quills apparently force the students to cheat. Everyone scored one-hundred percent on the last test."
"When did this start?"
"Last week."
"Maybe I can help."
Limbeck gave him a withering look. "I doubt it."
"I'm good at fixing things," Viridis said.
"So we've heard. I thought you were busy learning how to be a headmaster. Try focusing on that."
"I'm just trying to help."
"If you're that anxious to help," said Thornside with a nasty smirk, "I have a few teaching awards in my office in need of polishing."
Dawn's gasp could be heard down the entire length of the table. Her face darkened, the owls perched on her shoulders fluttering in agitation.
"Show the headmaster some respect," she said, gripping her fork so tightly her knuckles were white.
Thornside gave her a dismissive look. "I'll give him respect when he earns it, Miss Mercher. Don't let your feelings for him cloud your judgment."
"Feelings?"
"We're well aware you two were romantically involved back when you were students."
Dawn dropped her fork and began rising from her chair, her face contorting in a manner that set off alarm bells in Viridis's head. Thornside pushed his chair back and pulled out his wand. Sensing events were about to spin out of control, Viridis jumped to his feet. "As part of my effort to learn the job of headmaster, I've decided to stop by each of your classes and listen to you teach."
Gasps passed up and down the table. Several of the instructors acted as if they'd been slapped across the face.
Limbeck leveled a withering gaze at Viridis. "So you can tell us what we're doing wrong? How many years have you been teaching?"
Viridis blinked. "What? That's not what I had in mind—"
"I'm insulted you would even consider such a thing," said Thornside. "Murmann never sat in on one of my classes."
"I have several teaching awards," said Professor Evergreen. "How many do you have?"
"Wait a minute," said Viridis, raising his hands. "I'm not evaluating you. I thought sitting in on your classes might show me where I can be most useful."
Limbeck slammed his fist against the table, sending plates and bowls bouncing across the surface. Students turned and gawked. "What don't you understand? Without any experience in running a school, the chances you'd be able to assist us are zero. Until you gain that expertise, your job is to stay out of our way and not embarrass the school." Limbeck stood and threw his napkin onto the table. "I have to prepare for class." He marched out of the hall.
Thornside eyed Viridis with a sneer that would have put Blunt to shame. "My sentiments exactly. This is going to be a dismal year." He shook his head as he rose from the table. "How did you ever manage to beat Ceridwen?" And with that, he followed Limbeck out of the hall. Within minutes, most of the other instructors left too.
When Dawn stopped by Viridis's office a few hours later, two dozen owls were scattered about the room—sitting on windowsills, perched on the chandelier, or huddled together on top of the instruction manual. Viridis was sitting at his desk, writing.
"What's with all the owls?" she asked, grinning. "Are people still sending you congratulations?"
Viridis looked up from his desk and sighed. "That was this morning. Now it seems every department in the Ministry wants me to answer their questionnaires."
"Why are the owls still here?"
"I told them they can leave, but they were apparently instructed to stay until I sent back answers." He put his quill down and pushed the papers away. "I had no ideas there were so many departments in the Ministry."
Dawn grinned. "Well, I suppose paperwork is part of the job description. By the way, do you have today's copy of the Daily Prophet?"
Viridis reach into the wastebasket, pulled out a crumpled up newspaper, and tossed it to Dawn.
"Why did you throw this away?" Dawn said, smoothing the paper out. "There should be a story about you today. You ought to cut it out and frame it."
"You haven't read the paper yet, have you?"
"No, I've been busy with classes."
She opened the newspaper and pointed at the front page. The headline read Hogwarts Headmaster Chosen. She grinned. "So you got your name in the paper. Just like Feathergill. What's wrong with that?"
"Read the article."
Dawn skimmed through the words. "Okay, here you are. Sheesh. It took them long enough to mention you by name." She read the words out loud.
"Viridis Trismegistus Olwyn, after having been allowed to compete for the position of headmaster despite his appallingly young age and a complete lack of experience, somehow defeated several more qualified candidates to become the new headmaster of Hogwarts."
She looked up from the paper, frowning, "What kind of shoddy reporting is this? And what do they mean by appallingly young?"
"Keep reading."
She read the rest of the story in silence, her face slowly darkening. "This story isn't about you," she exclaimed finally. "It's about whether there should be a lower age limit on future applicants for headmaster. Did you see this quote? 'These youngsters are too inexperienced to make proper headmasters,' said one unnamed source within the ministry, 'and would tend to coddle the students too much. I fear this new headmaster will do irreparable harm to the school's reputation.'"
Dawn crumpled the paper into a ball and flung it back into the wastebasket. "This story is rubbish. You're only mentioned once by name and all the pictures are of Feathergill!"
Viridis sighed. "They're already predicting I'll be a disaster."
"Who cares? What do the editors at the Daily Prophet know, anyway? It's the faculty you need to worry about."
"The faculty seems to share their opinion, in case you haven't noticed."
"Don't base your opinions on the behavior of a few socially inept instructors. The rest of them will come around. You'll see. In fact, Professor Fulcanelli already asked that you stop by her office for a chat."
Viridis rolled his eyes. "Wonderful. The only instructor who wants to talk to me is crazy."
"She's not crazy. And you can't afford to alienate anyone right now."
"That's easy for you to say. She doesn't stare at you all the time."
"Don't be silly. Look, I'll admit this hasn't been a great first day, but it's only one day. You've got the rest of the school year to show them what a fantastic headmaster you'll be."
Dawn began pacing back and forth across the office, her eyes blazing with determination—a look that, based on past experience, Viridis had come to associate with trouble. "The first step," she announced, "is to make yourself look more like a headmaster." She stopped pacing and looked around the empty office. "And we can start on this room. It feels like a cave, not a headmaster's office."
"We?"
"Of course. I've seen your house, remember?" She pointed towards the Hogwarts manual. "What's that monstrosity doing on your desk?"
"It's the instruction manual for Hogwarts."
"Seriously? It tells you how to run the school?"
"Not exactly."
"Well, you aren't planning on leaving it there, are you? It takes up most of the desk."
Viridis shrugged. "I've tried moving it, but I think it's magically bound to the desk.Don't know where I'd put it anyway. It would crush most other pieces of furniture." He shook his head. "I wonder where Murmann kept it?"
"Maybe you could ask the previous headmasters for advice," she said, looking up at the empty portraits lining the walls. "Hey, where'd they all go?"
"I think they left in protest. They only stop by to whine about Murmann being gone and demand I tell them who really won the competition."
"Then at least get some furniture in here."
"I talked to Digby about that this afternoon. He promised he'd bring some as soon as he could, but I haven't seen him since."
"Why don't you conjure up a few chairs?"
"I mentioned that to him and he nearly took my head off. Feels it's the caretaker's prerogative to furnish this office and doesn't want me interfering. I'm not antagonizing anyone else on my first day."
Dawn sighed. "I have another class to teach. Promise me you'll see Fulcanelli this afternoon."
"I'll think about it."
"What else do you have to do?" she asked as she headed toward the door. "Either go see her or finish answering these owls. You're the headmaster. Act like one."
Dawn had scarcely left the office when a white owl with tuffs of grey about its eyes flew in through the window, a message tied to its leg. As soon as Viridis removed the note, the owl disappeared back out the window.
"You see?" he told the other owls. "That's how it's supposed to be done." He opened the note to find a short message written in very neat handwriting.
Dear Headmaster Olwyn,
I congratulate you on your new position as headmaster of Hogwarts. I can only assume that you have a great future ahead of you and wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors. However, I feel it's my duty to warn you that Hogwarts will be destroyed before the end of the school year.
Nothing Personal.
A FriendHe turned the note over, searching for a signature or return address, but found nothing to indicate who'd sent it. Anger surged through him. Someone thought he was going to destroy the school before his first year as headmaster was over? He wadded up the note and tossed it at one of the empty portraits on the wall.
Viridis suddenly knew what he should do next. Fulcanelli wanted him to stop by and talk? Perfect. What better time than when he was in a foul mood?
He stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
