A/N: Standard disclaimer; see chapter 1 for details.

Albus Dumbledore smiled beatifically from the head table at the students enjoying the Welcome Feast. Liberal applications of the cheering charm upon himself as well as imbibing a couple bottles of dubious origin from his brother's bar had brought him out of the funk caused by the disastrous school board meeting. He had been Hogwarts' headmaster for thirty six years and had weathered many trials; he could handle this.

He had been disturbed when his deputy informed him of Harry Potter's elective choices. The boy must be made to respect the hallowed field of divination. With the future in store for him, of what use would Runes and Arithmancy be, not to mention whatever he was learning from that officious wizard in Hogsmeade who claimed guardianship? It was too bad that he had been prevented from promoting Hagrid, as he was a devout proponent of the infallibility of Albus Dumbledore. The boy studying Care of Magical Creatures under Professor Linnaeus-Scamander, no matter how exalted her pedigree and education, would not move forward his plan.

However, he did have certain powers due to his position. It would be an easy matter to amend the class schedule of a particular raven-haired student.

Yes, indeed, it was good to be Albus Dumbledore.

Minerva McGonagall had been busy putting out figurative fires on Orientation Day, and she had barely begun to relax behind her desk when she heard a knock on her door. Sighing because her 'wee dram' was that much farther away, she called, "Enter!"

"Pardon me, Professor."

She looked curiously at the third year, whose face displayed puzzlement. "Never mind, Mr. Potter. What seems to be the problem?"

"It's my schedule, ma'am." He held out a creased parchment. "I am missing a couple of electives, and I have had an odd one substituted for them."

"Let me see." She adjusted her reading glasses after unfolding it. "You appear to be correct." She summoned a ledger from the bookshelf behind him. "Patil…Perks...Potter. Here you are."

"I should have Arithmancy and Ancient Runes instead of Divination," he prompted.

"Again, you are spot on. This is most peculiar, as I see no application on file for change. Never mind," she waved her wand, "all fixed now."

"Thank you, Professor McGonagall," he flashed her a smile as he retrieved the revised schedule, "because I can't see myself climbing all those stairs just to drink poorly brewed tea."

The Scotswoman chuckled. "Quite right. Divination is a woolly subject at best, and I believe there should be an aptitude test before allowing it to be selected. As that idea is shot down every time I bring it up, the class is oft taken for an easy grade. Little do those students know the interminable list of predicted tragedies that they will be forced to listen to."

"So the course is dangerous?"

"Not at all. As for myself, I believe dear Sybill inherited little of her great great–now how many was it?–grandmother's gift of 'Seeing' and tries to make up for it with woeful and ambiguous visions. The staff actually runs a book each year as to who will be her targeted victim from each class."

"Well, that makes me even more glad to be free of it." Harry bowed after rising. "Thank you, again."

McGonagall stared at the ledger after the door closed behind the boy. There was only one person who could effect a change without triggering an alarm. "Albus, ye old schemer, what tree are you barking up now?" It looked like the drink this evening was going to be a double.

"Thank you, Hermione," Lisa said in a plaintive tone. "No matter owt I do, 'air spells don't work t'same as when you do't."

The other girl worried her bottom lip as her wand moved in slow loops above the tawny frizz. "It does seem to actively resist taming this year."

"Umgubular Slashkilters are native to Yorkshire," Luna spoke softly before moving in front of the girl and examining her with eyes slightly crossed.

"So is she infested?" Hermione asked, grinning when Lisa yelped and clutched her head.

"A bit, but not as much as Minister Fudge, who was raised in the area." She confided knowingly, "That's why he has almost no hair left. Well, that and the dark magic from the Rotfang conspirators."

"Well, let's hope your 'umgubulars' vacate the office if Mr. Malfoy wins the election. Draco gets his vanity about his appearance straight from his father. Hmm," she frowned at the unruly locks, "your curls have become so chaotic that all I can think of is frequent use of Sleekeazy's and tight braiding."

Lisa folded her arms and pouted. "Eh, that be so borin'."

"Perhaps not," Hermione said slowly, her eyes drifting across the room to where a person sat alone at a table. "Cho," she called, "do you think you could help us?"

The Asian student jumped, startled at being addressed thusly. "Lady Hermione, are you speaking to me?"

"Is there another Cho in Ravenclaw?" she retorted with a wink. "And stop with the 'Lady', I don't stand on ceremony too often."

The older girl approached cautiously. "What do you need?"

"The last two years you sported a large array of braided styles. I always admired your originality and flair."

"As you can see," she replied stiffly, "now I have need of neither."

"Am I correct in assuming that this 'pixie cut' was not your idea?"

"No. My father decided to punish me in the old fashion."

"Well, that was a definite backfire; you would be attractive even if your head was shaved," she stated bluntly. "Now, I assume that your skills have not had time to atrophy. Do you think that you could look at Lisa's hair and come up with some 'non-boring' ideas for her?"

"Certainly," she blinked away moisture, "I'd be happy to help her if she'll let me."

"I'd be chuffed t'bits if you would!" was the gushing response. "By gum, at this point, I'd even take tips from that Lestrange bitch, if she'd be still alive."

Hermione stepped back to give Cho more room to work and took the opportunity to straighten her clothing, which had been disarranged during the battle with Lisa's hair. Tucking a heart-shaped pendant back into the neckline of her blouse, she was happy to notice that only a few students sent curious glances towards the unlikely duo discussing hairstyles in front of a levitated mirror.

"That's a kind thing you're doing, Hermione."

"Everyone deserves second chances, Luna. Even those who take a little malicious pride in startling people."

"Oh, pooh," she said and stomped upstairs.

There were going to be changes coming to Hogwarts, and this time Albus Dumbledore was not complaining. No, for having two professors join in matrimony should give them more reason to stay. That, in turn, meant that he would not have to search for replacements. Of course it was still a bit of a mystery how young Quirinius had managed to foil the curse of the Defence position. Ah, well, at least it worked out to his–that is, the Headmaster's–advantage.

He did feel a trifle put out that the young man wished to make his own announcement of the event at the autumnal solstice. In his not-so-humble opinion, speeches on such important astronomical dates should have a certain more senior faculty member in the spotlight, but young love must have its way.

Hmm, school had been in session for almost three weeks. Perhaps he should check in with Sybill and see how Mr. Potter was faring in her class.

Dumbledore bit back the words which he wished he could aim towards the Gryffindor table and resumed his seat after a brief introduction (not that one was needed) of the Defence Teacher.

Shooting a puzzled glance at the sullen man in the center chair of the staff table, Quirrell began speaking. "Greetings, students of Hogwarts. Some of you have deciphered the meaning of the rings which Professor Burbage and I have been wearing for almost a year.

"Therefore, for those of you 'not in the know', the lovely Charity Burbage and I plan to be married in six months, on the vernal equinox." She stood briefly and nodded at the cheers and applause coming from the house and faculty tables.

When things had settled down, he continued. "You older scholars may recall that I once served Hogwarts as Muggle Studies professor, the position now held by my charming fiancée. Because of this, we will celebrate our union with two ceremonies. At dusk we will be joined in the traditional way in a sacred circle. Further, earlier that same day we will have a modified Church of England rite followed by a full meal wedding reception in the Great Hall. In addition to our families and particular friends, we would like all of the students of Hogwarts to be our guests."

Professor Burbage stood again and took the floor at a gesture from him and spoke once the excited murmurs ceased. "The past few years have seen many changes in the curriculum for Muggle Studies, as more information became available and more people ventured out of our insular society. However, I have concentrated on updating the young wizards and witches of Hogwarts on the massive differences in technology which they are bound to encounter." She laughed briefly. "I am no expert by any means, but at least I no longer consider a horseless carriage the latest in land transportation.

"That being said, I have concentrated my attention away from what many may refer to as 'frivolous' topics; nevertheless, if we wish to maintain the Statute of Secrecy, we must take heed of muggle fashion. With the help, I hope, of a number of our muggleborn students, it is the desire of my future husband and me to see all of the children of Hogwarts bedecked in a manner which would not cause curious looks from those on the outside. Lady Hermione," she dipped her head, "would you be willing to chair an advisory committee to this end?"

Cheeks pink, Hermione stood. "Professor Burbage, as by my robes it is apparent that I am a member of Ravenclaw House, I do not follow the whims and fads as closely as others. Nonetheless, I would consider it an honour to serve in this manner and will do so to the best of my ability." She sat down to cheers and whistles, and her arm was immediately claimed by the Patil twin whom she had thought more sedate than her Gryffindor counterpart. As she learned within the next few minutes, Padma might not be obsessed with what she wore, but she certainly took it seriously.

Harry held up a hand and stood. "Professor Burbage, Professor Quirrell. I am sure that I speak for all of us when I say that we appreciate the invitation to what will be a momentous occasion in your lives. Yet, those of us who are muggleborn and muggle-raised have limited knowledge of the evening ceremony. Besides appropriate clothing for that occasion, we need to know what to expect and how to behave. Is it possible to have some instruction on what is most likely second nature to many of our classmates?"

"A very good idea, Mr. Potter." McGonagall spoke after the engaged couple sent an inquiring look in her direction as Dumbledore had been too busy scowling at the young man who had made the proposal. "Would the student body be interested in holding after-hours meetings to exchange cultural information?"

"Is it permissible for volunteers from outside the school to assist?" The deputy turned to the blond Slytherin. "My mother is greatly fond of social events and would be most pleased to share her knowledge."

"Have her owl me, Mr. Malfoy, and we'll see what can be set up," was her prompt response. "Now, unless the Headmaster objects," she raised an eyebrow at the oblivious Dumbledore, "let the meal begin."

Conversations buzzed amid the clank of cutlery for the next forty-five minutes. It took fifteen of those for Dumbledore to notice that the food had arrived.

The morning after September 24 saw Harry complaining to the now-extended exercise group. "He glared at me throughout the entire meal. It was enough to take away my appetite."

"I dunno about that, mate," Dean shot him a quick grin, "you managed to put away a fair lot. Not a Ron Weasley amount, mind you."

"No one eats as much as Ron Weasley," Hermione stated.

"At least he no longer spits as he chews," Draco pointed out.

"All of her children fear Molly Weasley's temper," Luna stated calmly. "The others would fall over each other to tell on him if it got themselves out of trouble."

"Is that insider information from living so near them?" Hermione enquired.

Luna blinked. "I suppose you could call it that."

"You guys can stand around gossiping like a bunch of hedge witches all you want, but I'd rather get moving," Neville pronounced. He began to run, followed closely by Vince and Greg, who had dropped several stone apiece after joining the group during the second half of the previous school year.

Draco slowed his pace to jog beside his younger cousin. "Luna? You seem a little down lately. Anything you want to tell me?"

Instead of replying immediately, she threw herself into a forward roll before landing lightly on her feet once more. "Well, if you must know, something feels a bit off."

They ran together in silence for several minutes before the boy asked, "Can you get any more specific?"

"It's silly," she sniffed, "but I haven't been able to sneak up on Hermione since the term began."

"And even before," he corrected. "I noticed the same on the Express."

"Perhaps I'm a little miffed that I may not be so special if she has gained the ability to see the nargles and wrackspurts."

Draco snorted. "Hermione may be a witch, but she was raised as a practical muggle. I think you have nothing to worry about on that front."

"Such a mystery," she sighed as she put on a burst of speed and left him behind.

"Hey!" he yelled as he attempted to catch up.