(Arcturus Black - PoV) (Several Weeks Ago)

Apparating to Malfoy manor once more, I have to withhold a chuckle. There is no need to make my way across the grounds to the manor proper this time, as Lucius is rather impatiently waiting for me in front of the gates. His eyes light up as he sees me, rushing over immediately. The hesitation and wariness from recent days is thankfully not present for once.

"Arcturus! Everything went well? You are ready?" he asks.

Ah, how quickly his persona disappears, and past grievances are forgotten when he has a chance to get one over on Dumbledore.

"Of course, of course," I assure him, nodding. "There were no difficulties. The other board members should be arriving now. Shall we?"

Nodding happily, he pushes his magic towards mine, and we sync ourselves for tandem apparition.

With a twist and a quiet *pop*, we appear in front of the gates of Hogwarts, just slightly behind the other board members.

The three turn towards us with varied reactions.

Abbott frowns at us. Not unexpected. While hardly a blind follower like the Weasleys, he leans towards Dumbledore's side of the aisle more often than not.

"Malfoy," Selwyn nods to Lucius, "Arcturus. I was glad to hear you will be joining us. Hopefully we can make some positive changes, really turn things around."

I return the greeting as our little group prepares to make its way to the castle.

Oh, and there's Burton, I suppose. Unlike with the others, my attendance seems to have caught him unawares. It appears no one bothered to inform him of the change. I can't say I am surprised. The man is a nonentity, only holding his position by so far managing to avoid offending anyone enough to bother removing him.

Lucius and I enjoy some idle conversation with Selwyn about the state of the school during the short walk to the gates.

Well, enjoy may perhaps be the wrong word. Some of his comments are rather concerning considering my grandchildren will be attending soon. Have Hogwarts standards truly fallen so far? I began this little endeavor as an idle amusement to tweak Dumbledore's nose and offer them some minor support, but it is beginning to look like it may be more important than I realized...

Dumbledore and McGonagall are waiting for us at the gate. Naturally, both frown heavily upon seeing me. A frown that, contrary to my original intentions, I return heavily.

"Arcturus? I wasn't expecting to see you today?" Dumbledore comments.

"And despite all my little comments in the past I wasn't actually expecting to find out you were terribly mismanaging the school. It seems today is just full of disappointments," I reply.

"I'm actually pretty happy with how things are going," Selwyn comments, unintentionally (probably) undercutting me and reminding me why I don't actually like him that much even if he is (supposed to be) on my side.

Thankfully, Dumbledore ignores him, merely raising a hand to forestall McGonagall's own objections.

"While I am sure there are all manner of subjects for us to discuss, today is supposed to be a meeting for school board members. One of whom appears to be missing?" he prompts.

"Oh? Did Mr. Fawley not inform you? He has chosen to step down, and nominated me as his replacement."

It was a great deal cheaper than expected as well. I was anticipating a substantial bribe, but it turns out that old Richard Fawley's son, William, was actually one of the top contenders to replace Crouch as head of International Magical Cooperation. A few words in the right ears, and a much smaller amount of gold, left everything settled nicely.

Ah, William Fawley. A young man named after William the Conqueror, with an appropriate disposition. As our chief diplomat. The next few years certainly promise to be exciting for foreign relations.

Dumbledore's frown deepens as he realizes he had lost the loyalty of another supporter without even noticing.

"No, no I am afraid I was not informed."

He hesitates for just a moment. Only a breath. Barely noticeable.

If I were in a better mood, I would smile. He wants to find some method to deny me but knows how pointless it would be. An attempt would do nothing but make him look bad. This is not something I would lie about.

Releasing his breath, he just barely manages to avoid sighing.

"I assume Mr. Malfoy confirmed your nomination, then?"

We both nod.

"Very well then, very well. Let us not waste any more time."

Turning, he leads us to the castle. McGonagall follows, though not without another suspicious glare at me.


(Arcturus Black - PoV)

Despite all these years, the great hall is just as I remember it.

Oh the faces may be different, but the school? It hasn't changed a bit.

Settling into my chair with a relaxed sigh, I happily take in the ambiance of the school while sipping from a goblet.

Hmm.

This, on the other hand, was very much not available at the student tables.

I doubt it is a change from my own days, however. It is no surprise that the handful of school staff need some...assistance, to deal with hundreds of rowdy students.

Of course, that begs the question. How many have overindulged?

With that in mind, I turn my attention to the man seated next to me.

"Tell me, Severus,"

His frown, ever-present, becomes even more pronounced upon being addressed. After all, he can no longer pretend I am not here.

The rest of his body language is far more subtle, certainly, but it is still there if you know what to look for.

Who does Dumbledore think he is kidding? Snape is not bad, but capable of fooling the Dark Lord? Please. Even aside from his physical tells, I can taste the man's anger and resentment. Bitter. So very bitter.

"With such drink freely available for the teachers how many, incidents, have there been?"

A slight pause to allow him to process my question and begin to fake indignation. I continue before he can reply.

"I wouldn't disparage the senior staff, of course. But with the ever-revolving position of Defense professor...?" I imply leadingly.

He hesitates.

Conflict wars in those dark eyes.

...Again, this man was supposed to be a spy?

"There may have been a...few, instances where supposed...professors...proved themselves...particularly...unsuitable," he replies, begrudgingly.

My, how dramatic for something so utterly uninformative. Hmm, I wonder...is that where your talents lay?

I do hope your lectures are more useful.

Considering the falloff in potions OWLs since Slughorn left? I doubt it.

"Of course, of course. Were any particularly memorable, or amusing?"

Do you even have a sense of humor, I wonder?

I hate to make assumptions when so many think the same of me but Merlin, look at you!

"The students, at least, found most of them quite humorous," he replies, his frown deepening into an outright scowl as if the very idea of humor is offensive.

"Memorable, on the other hand?"

He slowly turns his full attention to me, interestingly.

"Professor, Mograine," he ladles an impressive amount of disdain into the title. Really, his dictation, at least, is excellent. If only he put more effort into his appearance...

A pity he is not the type to consider a career in radio, it would play to his talents so well.

"was hired to teach Defense several years ago. He had something of a history with a Wizard supremacist group, but he was both the only candidate to apply at the time, and he had actual qualifications for the position."

His expression sours further, as difficult as that is.

"Something of a rarity, these days."

Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. I will be looking into breaking that bloody curse.

Dumbledore may be the "Greatest Wizard of our Age", but there are paths that he is unwilling to tread.

Some of us are more willing to explore our options.

"The choice appeared correct, for a time. He clearly did not care for Flitwick or Hagrid, but kept his thoughts to himself and was an...acceptable, teacher. Then came the Halloween Feast."

Snape pauses a moment, reaching down to touch his goblet.

"For...various, reasons, Mograine chose to drink heavily that night. And then began to spill his real thoughts."

"Not charitable, I imagine?" I ask when Snape pauses once more.

"Hardly. Though his opinions were hardly unexpected. If that were all, we would have put him to sleep and, bundled, him off to his rooms, to sleep off the night."

Another pause.

"McGonagall and I were, discussing, doing just that, in fact."

His eyes are locked onto my face, his gaze intense.

The man is wasted teaching potions. He needs to teach theater. I will gladly sponsor him.

"However...There was a student, at the time. Half-Fae."

Oh dear.

Snape nods slowly, keeping his eyes locked on me as I take another sip from my goblet.

"Publically, all was well. The student may have been, at worst, somewhat overlooked. Privately, however?"

Snape leans towards me slightly, and I find myself leaning in despite myself.

"Once deep enough in his cups, and after having sufficiently disparaged the rest of the staff, Mograine began bragging about "putting them in their place." He had b-"

The doors of the hall swing open, and Mcgonagall marches in, the new students trailing after her.

...

Snape leans back into his seat, lifting his goblet and taking a long drink.

Irksome.

Quite irksome.

I am sure I can look up the details, but it will not be the same. Half of the point was the story, and the rest was getting it from Snape. Getting the man to open up.

...

Perhaps.

Hmm.

McGonagall half stamps her way between the tables, her back so stiff and posture so rigid it almost hurts to look at. Her frown is every bit as pronounced as any of Snapes.

Poor woman. She has just enough power and authority to get dragged into everything, but not enough to ever get her way.

Swirling my goblet gently while the Professor fetches the Hat, I reconsider the man beside me.

One moment I consider him a joke, a caricature, and a minute later he has me quite entertained with story time, and willing to recommend him for oratory or acting.

Yes, I do believe that I have underestimated him. Quite seriously underestimated him.

Tilting my head back, I quickly drain the rest of the goblet as the Sorting Hat finally arrives.

And begins to sing.

Ah. Right.

I had forgotten...hmm. It is impressive that it is, as far as I know, not a repeat. But still, there is only so much you can do with the material.

Tuning out the song, I consider Snape's story.

Mograine, hmm? Interesting that I never heard about it. I suppose Dumbledore quashed it. He had quite the stranglehold on the school, up until now.

A glance across the high tables shows most of the staff appearing much like myself. Superficially paying attention, but almost certainly tuned out.

I doubt most will be willing to talk about the event, however. I will be better off going to an ex-student, or the DMLE.

Hrm. Decisions, decisions. The DMLE would be easier. An OWL and I can have everything come to me for no effort, but the accuracy of any official report may be...questionable, and whoever looks into things may decide to take action on their own.

With an ex-student I will have to do at least a little work myself, but will have full control and be more likely to get an unedited account. Yes, when put like that? It is rather obvious.

"Abbot, Hannah!"

The first student steps forth to put on the hat, but I have a moment of realization as I begin to turn my attention toward the sorting.

A moment, as I realize that I am digging into matters based on Snape's little story. That he knowingly gave me, after careful consideration.

A matter that can and almost certainly will be used against Dumbledore very soon.

...

Interesting.

"Black, Coeus!"

That name certainly catches my attention, overriding all other concerns.

I let out a small chuckle as my heir makes his way across the hall, head held high, all eyes upon him.

The tables are filled with whispers and pointed fingers.

McGonagall glares at him as he sits on the stool before placing the hat on his head.

I don't think her mood was improved by the fact that he is still wearing the sword from his little naval adventure. A pity. Everyone else seems to appreciate it.

His sorting is far from the quickest ever, I have seen many who barely require the hat to so much as touch their hair, but it does not take long at all before the long expected cry of "SLYTHERIN!" echoes across the hall.

While joining the applause, I don't need a good look at his face to know he rolls his eyes before heading to his new house table.

Rather than watch him settle in, I focus on the other end of the table, where the older students congregate. As expected, it doesn't take long for a couple to look away from Coeus and up at the high table, towards me.

Returning their gazes, I give them my full attention, and a, significant, look.

"Black, Phoebe."

I let my gaze linger just a moment longer, to ensure they get the message, before turning my attention toward Phoebe. There should be no risk of in-house "accidents" involving the upper years now. I trust the twins will have no trouble dealing with the younger years, and they already dominated their peers, a fact which certainly fills me with pride.

Phoebe's walk is completely different from her brothers.

He was the victor, the conquering hero, returning home on parade, filled with pride.

She is walking as if in a dreamscape, seemingly barely aware of her surroundings, or that anyone else exists at all.

McGonagall still certainly doesn't appear happy with her but is decidedly less hostile as she places that hat on her head.

The hall quiets down, awaiting the verdict.

...

Everyone was expecting a quick decision for Slytherin, of course. But after actually seeing her? Seeing her walk? And as the rumors of her sight began to spread?

Ravenclaw is suddenly seen as an option. One that seems to be quickly gaining popularity as the hat remains silent.

...

The hat may be silent, but the students, on the other hand, grow louder the longer a sorting takes. I expect the betting to begin soon.

...

I do remember longer sortings creating more fuss, but this...

We are barely past mid-length!

I lean over to Snape.

"Do they always get this...loud?"

Dark eyes look in my direction, before turning back towards the table as he refills his goblet and takes a deep, deep drink.

I suppose that is one way to answer the question.

...

...

I must admit, I was expecting a quicker resolution.

Most of the staff are looking at or whispering amongst each other now, and even Dumbledore is wearing a frown.

We are well into the infamous "hat stall" territory now. Though unlike any time I have ever seen or heard of, Phoebe is completely at ease. She sits casually, swinging her legs and humming, even. Something that appears to be placing her ever closer to Coeus in McGonagall's bad books.

Hmm.

A glance at her brother reveals a similar disposition.

Despite the stall, he doesn't look in any way nervous or unhappy.

Quite the contrary, he appears...amused.

Amused?

Turning my attention back to Phoebe, I confirm that, yes, that fits quite well.

Is she doing this intentionally?

The hat interacts with our...minds? Magic? Soul?

Reads them, to get a grasp on us.

Is she...is she using her sight against it somehow, perhaps?

Tricking it? Overwhelming it?

...

Reaching past Snape, I grab the bottle he has been using off the table.

He appears rather surprised to see me drink directly from it.

I don't bother providing an explanation, as I am a bit busy worrying that my grandchildren are about to break an actually priceless Founder's relic.

A bit of gold won't make the problem go away if they manage to break the bloody Sorting Hat.

...

I make a notable dent in the bottle before Dumbledore finally decides to speak up.

"Miss Black, is something wrong?"

Phoebe shrugs.

"I don't know," she replies. "Is it supposed to do something? I think it's broken."

Ah, the gall on that girl!

A Black through and through, the both of them.

Oh, and Severus appears to have finally realized what is going on, if his expression is anything to go by. The wide eyes and tightened grip rather stand out.

I take another drink.

Merlin, I hope it's not permanent.

The noise level, greatly reduced when Dumbledore spoke, rises immediately afterward, with Phoebe's reply.

The teachers try to get things under control, to no avail.

Well, teachers other than Snape. He gives an uncaring shrug when I glance his way.

*BOOM*

MERLIN, DAMNIT!

Wincing and rubbing my ears, I glare at that bearded goat-faced old bastard as he sits there with his wand raised in the air.

"Q-t -l-s-," he makes an announcement...after firing off a pressure blast spell.

Indoors.

How can the man be so brilliant and so unbelievably idiotic at the same time?

Luckily, I do know some basic healing spells...

A couple quick casts and my hearing returns in time to hear him ask McGonagall to remove the Hat.

"SLYTHERIN!"

I wince, along with a number of others in the hall as, the moment it is removed, the hat shouts louder than anyone knew it was capable of.

Rubbing my ringing ears once more, I barely restrain myself from sighing. At least it is not broken. That could have been problematic.

Twisting in McGonagall's arms, the hat appears to glare at Phoebe, who looks back with a supposedly innocent face and a small smile.

"And never put me on her head again!" it demands.