Chapter 47: The Teachers
On every Saturday throughout the course of the semester, at least an hour or so is set aside for one of the most dreaded weekly events for the Hogwarts faculty: staff meetings. Although, while they are called 'staff' meetings, and everyone on-staff does have a standing invitation to attend, the professors tend to be the only ones who ever actually bother to show up.
This is understandable, given that the meetings are usually quite boring and, by nearly all accounts, a complete waste of time.
At least this particular meeting promised to be a bit more interesting than usual.
Minerva McGonagall claimed one of the tall chairs by the fireplace, flipping through a small folder of homework as she waited for the others to arrive. It hadn't been a terribly difficult assignment: just a few sentences from first year students on how they picture the transfiguration process, now that most have been able to induce at least some change to the matchstick.
She turned over a few assignments, jotting occasional notes on the margins, and finally came to one in particular. Sans Skelton had perhaps the tidiest handwriting she had ever seen, but also plainly put only the bare minimum amount of effort into his work.
Well. Exasperating though it might be, McGonagall had long since realized that often her most gifted students were also those who cared the least about their regular assignments. It was just one of the many reasons she would like to hold the additional classes for him; to make sure he was challenged according to his ability.
As she was scribbling a request for more detailed work in the future—as well as notes correcting the boy's odd tendency to never use capital letters—more professors began to arrive, no few of them pulling out grading work of their own.
"Good morning, Minerva!" With a flick and swish of his wand, Filius Flitwick levitated one of the shorter chairs over next to her own. "You'll never guess, but I've just been accosted by Madam Pomfrey in the hall!"
"Accosted?"
He glanced around briefly, looking for a step stool, and frowned ever so slightly when he found that it had already been commandeered by another professor for use as a lap desk. "She was rather insistent about having a chat, and very much didn't want to join us for the full meeting."
"And who can blame her?" McGonagall quietly quipped, earning a soft chuckle.
"Quite right!" Filius agreed. "So, it seems that she's come across yet another oddity concerning our favorite fair-haired first year."
"Mr. Skelton?"
He nodded. "Indeed! Apparently one of the kitchen house-elves has brought to her attention that he has not been eating properly. And with him being so… well, small, they're worried young Skelton might become naught but skin and bones soon enough!"
She raised a brow, in silent question.
"Madam Pomfrey simply wanted a chance to speak with the boy, and I told her that I'd tell him to pay her a visit after class." Filius finally climbed into his chair—making use of a nearby plant pot as a step stool—and settled in for the long meeting. "All that aside, are we ready to present our case?"
She set aside her folder with a sigh. "I should hope so. In all honesty, it should have been brought up last week."
It had been abundantly clear, even after just a few days, that Skelton was going to need the additional classes; everyone had heard about several incidents in Charms, including once when he had accidentally blinded his entire class. McGonagall herself had taken to giving him more theoretical work for the time being, just in case.
To be frank, though his first attempt to change a match to a needle had been phenomenal, she had still decided to err on the side of safety. A charm gone astray could be problematic, but a transfiguration spell could become downright dangerous.
Skelton's case was not that unusual, though. Accidentally using too much power is a common problem among students, especially when learning new spells. One of the fourth years—Seamus Finnigan—still has trouble keeping his charms from occasionally catching fire in overloaded bursts of magic.
That said, Skelton seemed to have a remarkable level of control.
From what Filius had told her last week, when the boy had attempted to cast 'Lumos' the tip of his wand lit up beautifully, and with no flickering whatsoever… but it had the strength of a small sun rather than a torch. A far cry from the magic exploding in his face, which is the most common outcome of overloaded spellwork.
"It is a shame, of course, but we've only lost the one week," Filius allowed, but it was plain that he found the delay as frustrating as she did.
Inconvenient though it might be, they did need to get the headmaster to sign-off on the altered schedule; any student wanting to take additional classes had to, regardless of if it was five extra blocks or just one. She and Filius had been planning on bringing the matter up during the previous weekly meeting, but instead Professor Moody had cut in with his shocking decision to demonstrate the Unforgivables in his classes—even if just on spiders—and the entire discussion had been quite thoroughly derailed from there.
At least they had managed to convince the former Auror to limit that plan to older students, fourth years and up only. Such dark magic was no way to introduce younger witches and wizards to the magical world.
"Here we are, then." Dumbledore stood at the head of the table, and he looked over his gathered professors with a gentle smile. "Shall we get this meeting underway?"
A few of the teachers nodded, though many also bit back complaints as they moved to put away stacks of grading. There was no point in waiting any longer, as most everyone who could be expected to be at the weekly meeting had already arrived—even if many of them looked none too pleased to have to be there. Of course, Dumbledore was well used to such a reception, and simply continued on.
"I am proud to say that we have made it through the second week unscathed—though you may have noticed the, ah," he coughed gently, with a slight smile, "the colorful explosion outside the Great Hall just this morning."
"Impressive charmswork, that," Filius noted, appreciatively.
Somewhere between resigned and proud, she just sighed. "Perhaps, but I think I still need to have a chat with a certain pair of red-haired ruffians about appropriate behavior."
Though such a talk would likely make no difference, as per usual.
There was a distinctly mischievous twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes as he nodded. "Oh, not to worry, my dear. The mess will have sorted itself out come Monday. No harm done, in the end."
At that, Severus, who may or may not have traces of rainbow colors all along the bottom hem of his black robes, scowled. The potions professor said nothing, though, so the meeting simply continued on to other topics.
Not wanting to lose another week, Filius made sure to speak up first. "Minerva and I have a slight scheduling change for one of my Ravenclaws."
"As you may be aware, one of the first year students has been having some... difficulties, in many of his classes," McGonagall added, and she couldn't help but grin slightly. 'Difficulties' was putting it somewhat lightly.
Moody nodded, looking somehow even grouchier than usual. "That Skelton boy, is it?"
"We believe Mr. Skelton should be given additional lessons," continued Filius, "just an extra hour, twice a week. It should help him get his magic under control."
"He needs it," remarked one of the other professors, to a round of muttered agreement.
It was a tad amusing that everyone was so very much on the same page. The Hogwarts rumor mill had been as swift as ever in spreading the tales of launched textbooks, blinded students, and uncontrollable laughter: for better or worse, there was no one in the entire castle who hadn't heard of the accident-prone first year.
McGonagall handed over a sheet of parchment with the proposed change in schedule, which the headmaster took with a thoughtful hum. After scanning through the details, he pulled out a quill and wrote his signature along the bottom.
"He certainly has a great gift," he said, handing back the form. "I'm glad that you have taken it unto yourselves to look out for the boy. Goodness knows we can't simply leave such a bright young mind to his own devices!"
"I should say so," remarked Pomona, with an amused smile. "We've seen how well that works with those precocious Weasley twins."
Everyone had a chuckle at that.
Or, almost everyone.
"Oh, the twins," came an overly dramatic whisper. Behind the large lenses of her glasses, Trelawney tried to look like she was peering into the distance. "Their future will be heavy with sorrow… yes… as their remaining time among us will be cut short. I see them caught in the pandemonium of a great storm to come…"
Their prior amusement and lighthearted laughter was smothered under her dour predictions, and for a long minute, everyone sat in awkward silence.
"The Great Hall looks lovely with all those colors, though," Filius piped up, in an effort to lift the mood.
Moody stomped forward, steps loud and uneven. "Enough of this nonsense." He dropped a thick stack of paperwork in front of the headmaster. "I need you to sign these."
After quickly skimming through the papers, Dumbledore took off his half-moon spectacles, folding them shut with calm, deliberate movements. "We've already spoken about this."
"So we have."
"Alastor," he sighed, moving to slide the packet aside, "I know that—"
The former Auror struck out his cane to pin the parchment in place, the sharp crack of wood on wood cutting off the headmaster. "I've already gotten the damn Ministry to sign on it—bloody hard, that was. This here's just a formality."
The corners of his lips turned down ever so slightly, in clear disagreement. "Even so, I cannot see how such an… activity is appropriate."
"They need to know what it's like, Albus. Especially these days." Moody glanced over the rest of the professors, though his spinning eye remained locked on the headmaster. "The world is a dangerous place."
McGonagall—disliking how they were both talking around the issue, whatever it might be—strode forward, forced aside the end of the cane, and read from the top sheet.
And then, bluntly, said, "You can't possibly be serious."
"I am," the former Auror growled.
"Moody, you cannot put our students under the Imperius Curse!"
And thus the meeting devolved into argument.
Author's Note:
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Undertale.
If Sans had ears, they'd be burning!
(Because, you know, there's that saying where if somebody talks about you… do people even still use that idiom?)
This chapter was fighting me all the way, sorry for the delay (and shortness).
You know, I always thought writer's block was being too tired to write or having no idea what to write. As it turns out, though, it's also wanting to write and knowing what scenes to write, but finding that everything you put down just sounds wrong.
So… anyone got advice for dealing with writer's block?
NOTICE:
I've decided to post chapter 48 (which really just needs to be tidied up right now) in April, and I've been writing on chapter 49 in advance.
Stay safe out there, and wash your hands! (And go vote!)
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