Prologue: Hogwarts Great Hall - September 1st, 1943
The pattering rain was loud as it hit against the stained glass windows of the great hall, followed by a rumble of thunder and a flash of lightning, startling the entourage of professors making their way to the front of the hall. A tall witch with ginger hair in a plait under her hat and royal blue robes waved her wand in an intricate pattern, instantly muffling the sounds of the weather. Her colleagues nodded appreciatively.
"Thank you, Penelope! Can't have such distractions during the sorting," chimed one slightly port wizard with an impressive mustache.
"Thank ye, Horace," the witch, Penelope, returned warmly, her Scottish brogue pronounced.
"I've heard that we have quite the sorting this year, isn't that right, professor?" a younger wizard with ginger-red hair tied back into a tail and a single fanged earring interjected, looking towards another auburn-haired professor with magnificent lilac robes.
"You are correct William. As well, you are faculty now, no need to call me professor anymore, just Albus is fine," Albus replied before continuing, "but yes, on top of seventy-two first years alone this year, we will also be welcoming sixteen transfers from Beauxbatons," he finished, his face grim.
"That's eighty-eight new students!" exclaimed Penelope, "I had heard that Grindelwald had managed to occupy the school last February, but I hadn't heard much detail," she added cautiously, fiddling with the end of her braid.
"It is true, much has been kept under wraps to protect the transfers, and French muggleborn first years who would have otherwise started their schooling at Beauxbatons this year, are in transit to Britain," explained Albus, "Grindelwald may not have much footing here in the isles, but he is not without sympathizers," he continued, normally twinkling blue eyes turning hard. "The staff at Beauxbatons managed to smuggle their muggleborn students to safety while under attack."
"And the other students?" questioned another professor, a pale witch with an upturned nose and icy blue eyes, her accent a haughty Queen's English.
"Please, don't pretend the pureblooded children were not completely safe, Belvina," retorted another professor, this one intimidatingly tall with dark skin, betrayed by his soft voice and very Welsh accent. Belvina bristled and was about to snap back but was cut off from the doors of the hall opening, admitting a rather tall, old wizard with steel in his eyes.
"Good evening, Headmaster. Excited for the new term?" greeted Albus, earlier troubled expression all but gone from his face. The headmaster, sensing the discord among his professors, merely scoffed.
"Oh? Have I interrupted an argument? It's only the first day, that was certainly fast," his Northern Irish lilt seemingly amused, standing tall with his hands behind his back.
"Not at all, headmaster, we were simply discussing our impressive enrolment for this year," responded Albus, amiably, folding his arms inside the sleeves of his robes, a mischievous glint to his eye. The headmaster snorted, turning to look at the two professors with sour expressions.
"Is that right? Burke? Shacklebolt?" he wheedled the two dryly, "out with it now, I cannot have discord amongst my staff, especially not during these times." he raised a silver brow patiently.
"Belvina here seems to be worried that the French students not of muggle heritage were overlooked by Beauxbatons staff," the wizard, Shacklebolt responded waspishly, causing Belvina to sniff disdainfully in his direction.
"Well, Chidi here has assumed that my concern is not for the muggleborns, and only for those of magical parentage. This is not the case, I am merely pointing out that all children should have been evacuated, not just a few," she replied evenly.
"Nice save," chortled another professor, a short witch with cornrows and a cockney accent, earning a glare from professor Burke.
"Well, I'm afraid the only students who are actually our concern at the moment are the muggleborns, it isn't our business how the French run their school," the headmaster retorted, "this is not to say that I agree or disagree, but rather that it is not something we feasibly have any control over, what we can do, however, is help our refugee students feel welcome." briskly ending the discussion as he headed towards his seat on the dais.
"Well said, Headmaster," agreed Albus, opening his mouth to continue but was cut off by another voice.
"-I have apprised our head students of the situation, so rest assured, we should be of the utmost confidence that the transition for our new students is smooth," interrupted Horace cheerfully, earning a series of groans from the other professors.
"Aye, we ken ye chuffed about tha head boy bein' a Slytherin," crowed another professor with a thick Scottish tone. Horace simply beamed like the cat that got the cream.
"Indeed! I knew he would, Tom is an excellent student, he was only the most obvious choice," he bragged, needling his mustache as if he personally had achieved something incredible.
"Riddle? Aye, good lad," nodded the headmaster, absentmindedly adjusting the sleeves of his robes. There was a pause before a crack was heard, reverberating through the hall, a house-elf appearing with a missive in his small hands. Albus took the parchment piece from the elf, nodding his thanks, allowing the elf to apparate away as he unfolded the note. Reading it quickly, he folded it once more, sliding it into his sleeve.
"The train has arrived, Oswald reckons he will need help ensuring the path to the castle is safe for the carriages from the rain," he recounted, heading around the horizontal tables, along the side of the hall towards to door.
"I will assist you, Albus," chimed William, following after his colleague, catching up quickly and exiting the hall.
"William has siblings that are still students, no?" asked a short, stout professor that had otherwise stayed quiet until then.
"Aye Edgar, two more years of Weasleys, about time, it was getting difficult keeping track of them," laughed a spry older witch "Though William has certainly done well for himself, its pure luck that he was available to take the runes position after Nadine's departure," she mused, taking her seat on the dais.
"Well, Galatea, if you haven't heard, there's a war going on, hardly the time to be diving into ancient tombs in Egypt," a heavy Southern Irish accent replied from a rather young professor missing an arm, attempting to balance a spoon on his fake hand.
"In any case, Sylvanus, it will be an interesting year," another professor chimed, crisp queen's English, an elegant looking man with dark skin and dark eyes.
"Right you are, Shafiq, right you are," agreed the headmaster as the rest of the staff sat in their places, awaiting their students.
Hi everybody, this is cross-posted on Ao3 under the same authors name (macsmackeroo) and title. Re-editing this story June 2021 for readability.