Disclaimer: I'm not even British, so how can I be J.K.R.?
Severus Snape had been through seven levels of Hell in his life, but staff meetings beat them all. Binns droning on about how things had gone downhill since he was alive, Flitwick falling out of his chair, Hagrid snoring...McGonagall. Somehow she was the worst, but not because she was annoying. Minerva always sat ramrod straight, listening intently, offering the occasional insight. But all the while Snape could see her exhaustion. Her war wounds sapped her energy, and she wasn't the youngest of women anyway. There were bags under her eyes every day now, and she never accepted the Dreamless Sleep potion Snape offered.
Today, though, she seemed different. Snape wouldn't have said it was possible for her to sit any taller than usual, but she managed. Her eyes were darting warily about, but she was almost vibrating with supressed knowledge and a thousand buried concerns. Snape followed her gaze to Dumbledore, and his eyes narrowed. The old man looked decidedly smug.
Professor Sprout walked in, and Dumbledore rose from his armchair. Sweeping to the middle of the room in his bright orange robes, he clapped his hand together. "Well, now that we're all here, shall we begin? I have a few matters I particularly want to address, but I'll let you begin with your personal concerns."
And wasn't that thoughtful of him? Snape rubbed his hands together, trying to massage some of the cold out of them. There was a massive fire crackling in the staffroom hearth, but still the chill seeped in. As close as he wrapped his cloak about him, Snape still could not get warm. He suspected that for the wool to serve its purpose, he would have to wear it in his skin.
Sprout cleared her throat meaningfully, and began, "If we could begin budgeting for repairs to the castle-I mean, it seems like something that should have been done months ago-" She stopped as Dumbledore raised a pale finger.
"If you don't mind, Pomona, we'll return to that a little later." Sprout nodded, and Flitwick squeaked about prefects. Snape stopped listening. The Head Girl was the youngest Weasley, and the Head Boy was a flashy Muggleborn Ravenclaw-Thomas Marinack. All he needed to know about the top students could be thus summed up.
Then he heard a pair of names that jerked him back into the meeting. "What about Neville and 'ermione?" This, of course, from Hagrid.
Dumbledore tilted his head in acknowledgment. "Ah yes, and we come to one of the most important points. Mr. Longbottom is fairly simple. Pomona, I believe you planned to offer the boy an apprenticeship after he graduated. Do you still wish to train the boy?"
"He's sharp," Sprout replied promptly, "and if he wants to do Herbology, there's no student I'd rather have."
The headmaster beamed. "As I happened upon Mr. Longbottom in Diagon Alley this summer, laden down with books on protecting magical gardens from avian pests, I suspect he has not altered in his desires. I would like to suggest that you begin working with him this year, rather than the next. He has always been something of an awkward child"-here Snape could not hold back a snort, but refrained from further comment because Dumbledore was gazing severely at him over the length of his nose-"and this year will be particularly hard for him, as most of his friends will be absent. It would be nice for him to have something to occupy his time besides schoolwork." Sprout nodded understanding.
"Now, Miss Granger is a trickier case. How many of you feel that she could succeed in your field?"
Every hand but Trelawney's went up. Even Snape reluctantly raised his to shoulder level, trying not to meet his colleagues' surprised gazes.
"Yes, she is a very talented young woman," Dumbledore went on, "and she seems to enjoy all of her subjects. But she hasn't yet displayed any passion for any of them. I think it would be of benefit to her to spend a year exploring all of her options. I already have something in mind that would enable her to retain flexibility while acquiring depth, but if you will let me hold off on that for a minute, I can explain it better.
"Before I get to the main point of this meeting, are there any other matters that need discussion?" Dumbledore looked around the room for a moment, but nobody indicated a desire to speak, and he continued.
"Since the final battle, Minerva and I have been concerned about the state of affairs around the castle. The wards are acting odd. The ghosts are unusually hostile. The house elves are uneasy. And the trees of the Forbidden Forest are proceeding up the hill, despite all attempts to curb their growth." Dumbledore had been staring at his steepled fingers; now he looked up, and his blue eyes were grave. The staff members shifted uncomfortable under the force of his stare. When he went on, his voice was low, and even Snape's trained ears had to strain to hear him. "Hogwarts is rapidly growing unsafe for the students."
Snape had seen this coming from the start of the dramatic speech about the abnormalities in the wards, but the gasps around him told him his colleagues were more startled. His eyes flitted about the room, gauging their reactions. McGonagall was the only one who didn't look shocked. This must have been what was on her mind.
Dumbledore sighed softly. "Over the past century, this castle has seen more of the Dark than in all its previous history. The cumulative effect is simply too much. I have come to believe that, painful as the idea is, this school cannot continue to exist in the same location or the same building." Here he made the mistake of pausing, and everybody began talking all at once, but Snape sneered and Dumbledore stared, and eventually the staff calmed down.
"I know this is not a welcome thought, but it is time to face facts. Minerva and I have already applied to the Board of Governors and to the Ministry for money to start afresh. We have asked for and received fifteen million Galleons from the Ministry."
Snape started, and someone whistled. The sum was enormous, almost half of the Ministry's annual budget. How had he missed this?
"Of course, there have been donors other than our government. The total sum comes to approximately twenty-five million. The French Ministry, as well as the Australian and the Russian, have all been extremely generous. For some years, we have been trying to arrange an exchange program with these countries, and we hope that now that we can begin anew, that will be possible.
"I know this is quite a bit to process, but I want you to begin considering how this will affect you as soon as possible. Many of your supplies and textbooks cannot be taken with you. Professor Ubitum, I know this is a lot to ask of you in your first term, but I'm afraid that you and Professor Flitwick will have to go through the rarest books of the library, to see if they can be saved." Ubitum, a mouse of a man whom Snape had hated on sight, grinned at the idea of a chance to show off. "Unless they are extremely valuable or dangerous, we will simply have to leave them behind. As I'm sure we all realize, the cost of rescuing books from foreign influences is very high, both in gold and magic, and it is better to avoid that as much as possible.
"About the portraits: we are going to use stone barriers as entrances to the common rooms. As soon as we have informed the students about the change, which I plan to do tonight, at the feast, we are going to begin moving the portraits to Gringotts. Strange things happen to portraits faced with Dark magic, and we cannot afford to leave them here any longer.
"More precious than all the painting and books combined are, naturally, the students. If it is at all possible, we would like to have done most of the planning for the castle by the end of this term, so that we can buy land and begin construction in the next. If we work hard and spend the money to have the construction done magically, I hope we can move into our new home the very next year."
Snape frowned thoughtfully. The pace was going to have to be frantic for that to happen, and he knew he'd be doing a lot of the work. To be fair, Dumbledore would be in the middle of it, too, but that hardly made him feel better. He should have retired when he had the chance.
"Here is where Hermione Granger comes in. She represents something to everyone who sees her. She survived a war and could easily have gone straight on to Auror training, but she came back. She's a Muggleborn, but she's popular with a number of Purebloods. She symbolizes hope and scholarship both, a potent symbol both on the school level and in the global arena. I want to make Miss Granger a part of the preparations for the new school, let her help us plan the grounds, the classrooms, that sort of thing. Each of you will need to make contributions to the project. Invite her to assist. She'll be a symbolic and a practical aide, and she may find what she wants to do.
"I think that's all I have to say on the subject at the moment. Any questions?"
Snape didn't bother to signal, as the rest of the teachers were doing. He simply asked "Houses?"
Dumbledore's eyes rested on him with unsettling understanding. "It has yet to be determined whether the old house system will remain in place. We'll talk to students and parents, but in the end it will come down to a vote of the staff."
Snape's thin lips compressed in displeasure. The rest of the teachers, particularly the heads of houses, were sentimental about the system. They had never seen its dark side, the way he had.
Dumbledre and McGonagall answered question after question, none posed by Snape. He was thinking hard, and barely knew to stand when the meeting was adjourned. He was making his way to the door, ignoring the chatter arising from the other professors. He had almost escaped when Dumbledore called him back. "Severus! May I speak to you in my office, please?"
He should have seen that coming. Merlin only knew what the old man wanted, but it couldn't be good. Was it too late to buy a cottage on the Greek islands?