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Professor Burbage joined them, collapsing into a grimy armchair with a heavy sigh.
"Is everything alright, Charity?" Professor Sprout asked, concerned. "Would you like a cup?"
"If there's black tea… oh, excellent." Professor Burbage straightened slightly. "Yes, Pomona, everything's fine. It would be better if I hadn't received those letters from our esteemed Senior Undersecretary."
Professor Flitwick took the liberty of pouring her a cup, his voice sharp with displeasure. "What does she want now?"
"I couldn't be bothered to read them properly." Professor Burbage waved a hand. "The usual drivel. Educational reform, close cooperation… reminding me I used to work for the Wizarding Examinations Authority, as if we were ever close back then. Do we still have milk?"
"Some," Professor McGonagall said, passing her the creamer.
Anthony watched as Professor Burbage inelegantly poured an excessive amount of milk into her cup, filling it until the pale brown liquid nearly overflowed. She took a sip, then tossed two sugar cubes in.
"When exactly is she coming?" Professor Sprout asked, worried.
"I hear it's around the third of January," Professor Flitwick answered, glancing at Professor McGonagall before tapping the table with his wand. A sugar cube clattered into his own cup.
"The first is also 'around' the third," Professor Sprout pointed out.
"If she intends to join our New Year's tea," Anthony said, "I hope she at least remembers to knock."
"Not today." Professor Burbage set her cup down, looking much improved. "I have it on good authority many Wizengamot members are attending the Ministry's New Year's reception today. Umbridge wouldn't want to miss that."
"Good. That means we have at least half a day," Professor McGonagall said. "Hagrid's Chimaeras."
Her sentence was cut short as the staff room door banged open. For a moment, Anthony truly thought Umbridge had arrived early. Then Professor Snape and Professor Sinistra walked in.
"Severus. Aurora." Professor McGonagall gave a slight nod, her gaze returning to the group. "Those Chimaeras are currently with Silvanus's… larger friends, but the centaurs have lodged many protests. The Acromantulas also refuse to let them stay near the nest… Of course, placing two creatures that violate the Ban on Breeding Highly Dangerous and Invasive Magical Creatures together isn't a good idea in the first place… Are you quite alright, Aurora?"
"I'm fine, Minerva," Professor Sinistra said muzzily, hand over her mouth as she yawned again. "Pay me no mind. You know I'm rarely up this early."
"Very well," Professor McGonagall said. "Regardless, Silvanus says he and Hagrid will manage it. Our task is simply to ensure our esteemed Senior Undersecretary does not develop an interest in the Forbidden Forest."
The staff room door opened again. Professor Kettleburn hobbled in on his crutch and lowered himself onto a wooden chair nearest the door.
"Cold and hard. Like an instrument of torture," he complained, leaning over to snatch a grimy cushion from the adjacent armchair. "I don't see why you had to cancel all the Cushioning Charms, Minerva."
"Because I am reluctant to allow certain individuals to use cushions I have Transfigured," Professor McGonagall said haughtily, waving her wand to turn Professor Kettleburn's chair into a sofa with a footstool. "We were discussing your Chimaeras, Silvanus."
"They're all doing splendidly," Professor Kettleburn said, heaving his leg onto the footstool. "Eat a lot, shit a lot, sleep a lot, fight a lot. Very healthy. One might be a bit put out that his private suite turned into a dormitory for juveniles, but I took him for a walk up the mountain for a few days, so he's fine now. Oh, and Minerva, we've eaten quite a few squirrels and wolves. Two redcaps as well."
"Why are there redcaps near Hogwarts?" Professor Sprout asked, alarmed. "I thought we'd cleared the grounds of all such Dark creatures?"
Professor Kettleburn shrugged carelessly. "No idea. Might have migrated. You can't discuss legislation with magical creatures."
"I meant our protective charms…" Professor Sprout murmured, still frowning slightly.
"Sorry, what's a redcap?" Anthony asked.
"A creature fond of eating children," Professor Flitwick explained succinctly. "Mainly in Germany's Black Forest, but there are some in Britain too."
"I'll have Albus check the school's protective enchantments," Professor McGonagall said. "But, Silvanus, don't let Umbridge see you taking the Chimaeras up the mountain. Strictly speaking, that area is not Hogwarts grounds. Any other magical creatures I should be concerned about?"
"None… oh, wait. I might have violated the Private Chimaera Husbandry Regulations again," Professor Kettleburn said. "Last week, a hippogriff went into a mating frenzy over a centaur. The centaurs were furious. Killed it. I fed the carcass to the Chimaeras." He said it matter-of-factly. "Well, it was dead anyway. Letting the Chimaeras eat it just sped up the process of it becoming fertilizer."
Professor McGonagall sighed. "That hardly matters. Umbridge isn't here to inspect the welfare of magical creatures. On the surface, at least, she seems far more interested in the magic the students are learning, as if she graduated from somewhere else entirely. If Gilderoy weren't here, I believe she'd have aimed for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post."
A distinct snort came from the corner where Snape stood. Professor McGonagall shot him a stern look.
"No, I don't think she'll pay our creatures special attention," Professor Burbage agreed, nibbling a biscuit. "That arrogant head of hers probably can't even recall we have neighbors in the Forest and the lake."
A thought struck Anthony. "Speaking of which, she's likely to notice the Black Lake. I recall Mr. Fudge expressed interest in Professor Dumbledore's… tuna club. Do we have anything in the lake?"
"A secret enclave of merpeople and giant squid plotting to make Albus Minister?" Professor Burbage suggested. "How does that sound? She'd love that theory."
Professor Sprout swatted her arm for the ill-timed joke.
"The lake is still frozen over," Professor Sprout said comfortingly. "Don't fret over it, Minerva. If Umbridge wants to find something in there, she'll need to learn how to swim properly under the ice first."
Professor McGonagall's expression relaxed a fraction.
"Oh, yes, I'd nearly forgotten that," she said. "Very well, then we needn't worry about the Black Lake."
"Oh, brilliant!" Professor Kettleburn said cheerfully. "In that case, I won't bother about the kelpie that escaped into the lake then."
…
Despite Professor Kettleburn's somewhat indignant assurances that his creatures wouldn't provide Umbridge with a weapon against Hogwarts, the other professors wore expressions of thinly-veiled skepticism. The mention of Hagrid's name did little to melt that worry.
Finally, Professor McGonagall shook her head, muttering something under her breath—Anthony caught the rapid murmur of "Albus Dumbledore" passing her lips—and steered the conversation toward the books donated by Flourish and Blotts to escape Ministry raids. A significant portion still sat, malevolent and caged, in a corner of the Restricted Section's storeroom.
Next came Snape's less-than-compliant potions ingredients, the various herbs and seeds in Professor Sprout's greenhouses that hadn't passed Ministry import/export checks, the Dark Arts texts in Professor Flitwick's collection… Even Professor Burbage had some ambiguous collectibles that might fall under the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office's purview. ("I don't know whether to be glad Sirius took his motorcycle with him," Professor McGonagall remarked.)
"Oh, they have rules for this and that," Professor Burbage said around a biscuit. "But nobody follows them! They're only still on the books because everyone's forgotten about them. How do they even define a Muggle artifact versus a magical one? When Hogwarts uses the Express and the Ministry uses telephone boxes and lifts, owning a pistol that only spits out roses shouldn't be a big deal."
"What exactly does Madam Umbridge hope to find at Hogwarts?" Anthony asked. "She doesn't strike me as a…" Before a better word came to mind, Lockhart's incessant chatter provided one. "…a person who views fighting the Dark Arts as her life's mission."
"Who knows?" Professor Burbage said dismissively. "She does what Fudge wants."
"In other words, anything that can be used against Albus," Professor McGonagall said, her face stony. "Including evidence that the professors Albus employs are… insufficiently qualified." She glanced at Anthony, her eyes making it clear she did not consider a Necromancer 'insufficiently qualified.'
Anthony looked around at his colleagues. Well, the good news was Dumbledore had already confirmed Voldemort wasn't on the staff roster this term.
Then Anthony noticed they were missing one core subject professor.
"Shouldn't we inform Professor Lockhart?" Anthony asked. "I mean, he's the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. It sounds like the subject most likely to violate various Ministry regulations…"
His voice trailed off. Best-selling books probably weren't very illegal. Books that had been featured in the Daily Prophet numerous times even less so.
"Lockhart. Of course," Snape said with a sneer. "How could we have forgotten him? Indeed, we were just about to beg him, tears in our eyes, to save Hogwarts."
Professor Sprout said hesitantly, "Well, Gilderoy's lessons…"
The door creaked open again. Lockhart's head popped in, beaming, a brilliant smile plastered on his face.
"I heard my name!" he declared. "Oh, look at you all, talking about Gilderoy Lockhart over afternoon tea! Fame, I know, I know…" He swiveled his head, taking in the shabby staff room decor, and drew in a dramatic gasp. "My goodness, it seems I've arrived just in time! Minerva, Minerva, you didn't tell me that after I agreed to temporarily move the Lockhart Fan Club meetings to the Defense classroom, Hogwarts would be left with no professor skilled in interior decoration! I understand, those charms can be tricky, but if you need any advice on Transfiguration…"
Professor Burbage leaned toward Anthony and whispered, "I don't understand. You know, I recently heard those balloons and streamers of his aren't magic at all. He orders them from a party shop in Hogsmeade."
"Um," Anthony said, feeling vicarious embarrassment for Lockhart.
"Thank you, Gilderoy," Professor McGonagall interrupted him in a voice slightly higher than usual. "We were merely discussing whether you should be informed that Madam Dolores Umbridge will be visiting Hogwarts shortly. But I assume you already know?"
"What? Oh, Dolores. Yes, yes, of course. She told me ages ago. A perfectly lovely person. A most devoted reader," Lockhart said. "Now, now, don't you laugh at her. Just think of the lengths she's gone to for a chance to be close to me!"
Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout exchanged a look. Professor Kettleburn stared up at Lockhart, baffled. Professor Burbage buried her face behind her teacup, her hand trembling; from Anthony's angle, he could see her face contorted in the effort to suppress laughter.
"So, you're discussing how to welcome her?" Lockhart proclaimed. "Merlin's beard, I've always said Hogwarts needs more events! To brighten up the dreary academic life. A ball, what do you think? A grand ball!"
"Not ideal," Professor Kettleburn said, still looking confused. "My leg isn't much for dancing."
"Mmm, well, if only we'd met sooner," Lockhart said. "I happen to know a charm for treating dragon wounds. Guaranteed to have you dancing all night without a twinge… A shame, a real shame. Too much time has passed now…"
In the strange, heavy silence that followed from the other professors, Professor McGonagall said calmly, "There will be no ball, Gilderoy. But you could give her a signed photograph. I'm certain our Senior Undersecretary would adore that."
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