Pausing as he headed to his office for another day of very boring work, Jackson reached for the AMDAHLs output scroll and curiously unrolled it a yard or so. The machine pooted. He scanned the readings, after a moment nodding in satisfaction to himself. "I told you that would fix it," he said over his shoulder to Stanton, who was on the other side of the room rummaging through the various drawers looking for something or other. Eventually his colleague emitted a sound of recognition and emerged with a small device in his hand.

Turning around he replied sourly, "You got lucky and you know it, mate."

Jackson shrugged, not offended. "Perhaps I did, or perhaps I knew exactly what I was doing," he said with a smile.

"Hah. As if."

"What's that you've got there?" Jackson asked, re-rolling the scroll, which like the last few weeks worth since he'd made the adjustment, showed none of the annoying interference, then putting it back where it came from. The AMDAHL pooted happily to itself.

"Lucy Dawson up in the archives accidentally broke one of the scroll readers," the other man replied, studying the thing he was holding, which was made of brass and wood with lots of little gears visible. "Tripped on the carpet and knocked it onto the floor. And a reparo doesn't work on that sort of thing, it's magic resistant or something. I have no idea really. But she showed me the part that broke and I remembered seeing something very similar down here." He waved the widget at Jackson. "I found it. Looks the same. If I can get it working again she'll want to go out with me, I'm sure of that."

"You got rejected again, then?"

Jackson grinned as his colleague gave him a filthy look.

The AMDAHL pooted.

"I'm just being helpful to someone in an awkward position," the other man said stiffly. "She's worried that the department head will take it out of her pay. But this is so old no one will care if I swap it out for the broken one, and that gets her out of a sticky situation. If that happens to make her grateful enough…"

"...to overlook your many and varied flaws?" Jackson suggested, cutting in before Stanton finished.

"Pillock." Stanton shook his head in disgust and left.

The AMDAHL pooted.

"Yeah, I know," Jackson said, patting the ridiculously complex machine. Feeling rather amused, and pleased that he'd successfully stopped all the nuisance alarms, he went into the other office and sat down to pretend to work while reading the latest issue of the Prophet. When he'd finished that, he turned to the crossword and picked up a quill.

Eventually he went to lunch, feeling that life was going nicely.

And a lot more quietly, which was certainly optimal in his view.

Left to its own devices, the AMDAHL merrily pooted every seven point two seconds, giving the impression carrying out its task with enjoyment. Or as much as one could expect from a machine, magical or otherwise. The scroll steadily extruded into the output hopper, occasional tiny spikes coming and going, but other than that producing a completely flat trace.

Far to the north, up in the Scottish Highlands, in a large and ancient castle, a woman with iron-gray hair studied a book that was even older than the castle was. She flipped pages, making notes as she went. Pausing on one page she scanned the list of names, nodding to herself as she ran a finger down them. When she'd finished, she closed the book, gave the strange looking quill that was lying next to it a glance, then headed back down to her office.

Sitting behind her desk half an hour later she looked up at the tap on her door. "Come in," she called, smiling when an old friend and colleague entered and shut the door behind him. "Filius, to what do I owe the honor of a visit at this hour?" she remarked, pushing the paperwork to the side and opening a drawer, out of which she pulled a bottle and two small glasses. Holding the bottle up, she gave him an inquiring look, getting a nod back as the small man hopped up into a chair.

"I wanted to talk to you about the Weasley boys," Filius Flitwick replied as he accepted the shot glass, sniffing the contents appreciatively. He took a sip and nodded satisfaction. "That pair have a remarkable amount of talent, but their ability to control their more… inventive… side is somewhat deficient."

"As one could easily see from the points they tend to lose more regularly than anyone I can think of for quite some time," Minerva McGonagall sighed. "In fact, not since… them."

"That is rather the comparison I thought of myself," he chuckled. "Luckily there's only two of them, not four, but they make up for the lack by sheer enthusiasm. And, it has to be remarked, raw talent. They'll go far assuming they don't go so far we need to expel the little blighters."

"Hopefully they can restrain themselves somewhat," she muttered, finishing her tipple and pouring out another one, refilling his as well when he held it out. He gave her a look, and after a few seconds she sighed again, reaching for some parchment. "You're right," she grumbled, picking up a quill. "I'll write Molly and ask her to see if she can impress on them some basic sense over the summer."

"That's worth a try, but I'm not sure it will actually work," he laughed. "Even so, thank you. You know her better than I do and it may have some effect. It may not. They're rather irrepressible."

"You don't need to tell me that," the witch sighed. "Some of the things they've done in my own classes are enough to take a year off my life. I still don't know how they managed that last prank."

"They have a positive gift for finding unlikely combinations of existing charms and the like, that no normal person would ever think of, and the results can be somewhat unexpected at times," he noted. "If they'd settle down and apply themselves to the work they're supposed to be doing they'd easily be in the top students in their year in almost every class."

"Except Severus's, I expect," she said with a tiny smirk. He matched it.

"Oh, he doesn't approve of them at all," Filius snickered. "Which only makes them worse."

"Although I feel I should disapprove, at times I've had a hard time keeping a straight face."

"He does rather invite that sort of thing, I have to admit."

"Foolish boy. He'd be much easier to like if he'd put some of his undoubted intelligence into getting along with people rather than being supercilious all the time," Minerva said, shaking her head as she signed the letter she'd written while talking. Folding it up she put to one side to send later.

"I'm not sure that's likely to happen," Filius noted sadly. "He has enormous potential in his field, but he's a very bitter chap. I somehow doubt he'd feel it worth his time."

"No. Likely not," she agreed in a subdued manner. Finishing her whiskey she looked at the bottle, then shook her head and put it away. Filius swigged the last of his and handed her his glass, which she quickly cleaned with a deft motion of her wand, did the same to her own, and put them both back with the bottle. As she closed the drawer he leaned forward to look at the papers she'd moved as he'd come in.

"Ah. New students?"

"I'm just checking the next set," she nodded, pulling the stack of parchment towards her. "I took the opportunity of some relative quiet to catch up on the Book."

"Anyone who stands out in the next crop?" he queried with interest, his eyes bright.

"A few muggle-born," she noted, scanning the document. "Ah… seven this time. Oh, here's one. Marcus Belby. You remember his uncle Damocles? Brilliant in potions, invented the Wolfsbane Potion some while ago."

"I recall him, yes," Filius nodded. "It will be interesting to see if his nephew shares that talent."

"Hmm. Who else. Selina Bell's daughter Katie. I suspect she'll be interested in flying, considering who her mother was."

The half-goblin chuckled. "Selina was rather keen on Quidditch."

"Other than that no one stands out particularly," Minerva said, putting the parchment down again. "It's next year that's likely to be interesting…"

"Young Potter arrives," Flitwick commented with a nod. "That should prove fascinating one way or another."

"Indeed. I somewhat fear what may happen, considering how famous the poor wee lad is. But we can but wait and see. Albus won't let anyone visit him, after all."

"Which I heartily disagreed with, as you know, but…"

"Quite. Unfortunately Albus is more than slightly stubborn at the best of times." She shook her head. "I dearly hope that it all works out."

"Look on the bright side, Minnie, with Potter here, I expect we'll not see anything more disruptive than his mere presence will provoke," Filius laughed. "I'm rather looking forward to witnessing what happens."

"I'm dreading the inevitable idiotic Prophet articles," she grumbled. "We're an educational establishment, we hardly need distractions of that nature, but I can't help but feel the moment the poor boy reappears in public he's hardly going to have a moment's peace."

"I doubt it will be all that bad," he smiled. "And it will die down soon enough. The public is fickle at the best of times and tends to have a short memory. Some scandal or other will happen and they'll move on to that and leave us alone." He hopped off the chair. "Chin up, it will all work out," he added. Pointing at the letter, he asked, "Do you want me to send that for you? I'm headed that way myself as I have some letters of my own to dispatch."

"Thank you, that would be appreciated," she replied, handing him the folded parchment. "I do have rather a lot of work to catch up on before dinner."

"I expect I'll see you there, then." Waving the letter at her, he smiled and left, pulling the door closed. She returned to her work, scanning the list of names one last time, then putting it carefully into a drawer before she selected the next document that required attention.