MEMOS

Never ask me to cover one of Pomona's lessons again.

This sounds juicy.

I shan't tell you.

Want to bet?

I won't.

I feel that I need some solid validation of facts before I can authorise such blatant disregard for your role here and the contract you signed to allow you to work here.

I don't have to cover any lessons.

Section 3A, subsection VI: Teaching Responsibilities. It's there in black and white.

Has anybody in the history of Hogwarts actually read that contract?

No.

Then I'll claim unfair usage of antiquated rules.

Claim rejected.

I appeal to you –

No you don't.

Shut up.

Excuse me?

Shut up, Your Honour.

That's better.

I appeal to you to reconsider.

Request denied.

Why?

We have a very limited number of teaching staff and we only take on the best.

Careful, you'll make me blush!

As I say, we only employ the best; Merlin knows how you got in.

Probably the same way you did.

Through the window?

Yes.

Anyway, as we only employ the most skilled practitioners in this great nation, we are constantly threatened with the notion of one of our staff falling ill and nobody of excellent standards to replace them. Ergo, we must ask staff to cover the working hours of colleagues who are ill or otherwise unable to perform their duties.

Sorry, can you repeat that. I fell asleep somewhere in the middle.

I'm not surprised you're drowsy with the amount of Fire Whiskey that's been stored in your bloodstream over the years. Have you ever even had a hangover?

Stop side-tracking!

You want a blunt answer? Well, fine. No, Minerva, I cannot excuse you from covering lessons without a firm reason.

Fine. I'll tell you.

Oh, goody.

But it goes no further than this, got it?

Absolutely. My lips are sealed, my tongue is tied and my beard is fabulous. Even the strongest veritaserum would fail to draw the secret from my lips.

Okay. Well, I was explaining to the fourth years the danger of the Nepenthes Attenboroughii.

Come again?

The Giant Pitcher Plant.

Ah. I am still none the wiser.

It can eat rats. Anyway, Pomona, being the daredevil she is, happens to own a quite gargantuan specimen of this particular plant.

I see where this is going.

Trust me, you don't. As I was illustrating where the plant produces its nectar to entice insects and animals and I happened to bend over quite innocently.

Oh dear.

And I heard –

I think I know what's coming.

I heard a wolf whistle.

I was not expecting that.

Are you implying that my figure is not attractive enough to elicit whistles from hormonal teenage boys?

Certainly not, dear. Your rear end could extract an admiring wolf whistle from even the most unmoving lips.

Stop it. It's creepy when you say it.

Then by all means continue with your story.

Well, obviously I was outraged.

Rightly so.

So I straightened myself up rather too quickly and hit my head on a low-hanging flower basket.

Oh dear. You haven't got a concussion, have you?

No. Poppy already insisted on checking me over. Twice.

So you can't cover Pomona's lessons because you're embarrassed about hitting your head?

That's not all, Albus! Obviously hitting my head only increased my anger that I had been objectified in the classroom once again (I'm just going to put it out there; I'm almost certain it's Sirius Black again), but then I felt something touch me.

Plot twist! It wasn't Mr. Black was it? Because that could be a very serious matter.

No, of course not. I can deal with a little harmless flirting, but if he'd laid hands on me he wouldn't have any left.

So who touched you?

Not 'who', Albus. 'What'.

Oh dear.

Pomona's little pet.

Not the Devil's Snare?

The Devil's Snare.

I was wondering when this would happen.

Well, the fearsome foursome found it hilarious that I had to struggle out of it before I could do some nifty wandless magic. In fact, they found it so funny that they decided it would be an opportune moment to snap a photograph of said incident.

I shall be expecting to see it in all of the common rooms tomorrow morning then.

It's not going to be the most flattering photograph. The blasted thing managed to rip the top of my robes and give me a lovely scratch right across my cheek.

I don't think the boys will object to that.

Albus! You disgusting old man.