The Staff Room

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THE STAFF ROOM

By A.A.Yarrum

Chapter 5

“Minnie”

Miss Bones!’ said Professor Flitwick cheerily, as he taught the third year Hufflepuffs the Cheering Charm. ‘Now it’s your turn. Why don’t you try it out on… Miss Bulstrode? Up you come, Millicent, now. Don’t be shy, Susan won’t hurt you.’

Millicent Bulstrode certainly looked like she could use a cheering charm, thought little Phillip, as he watched the hulking, brawny girl take her place beside the nervous looking Susan,

‘Don’t be shy, now, off you go. Remember what I taught you. It’s very simple if you remember.’

‘Tikilius Grande!’ said the small Susan. The beam of shocking pink landed right on Millicent’s nose, before puttering out. The great mass of a girl just stood, completely unperturbed. Not even a small hint of a smile crept up over her lips.

‘Try it again, Susan,’ said Professor Flitwick soothingly. ‘You were doing it right, it just wasn’t strong enough. Try concentrating more on the actual charm, rather than the wand movements.’

Susan tried the charm again, but nothing happened. The Bulstrode girl just stood, chewing a little piece of pumpkin gum, blinking every so often.

‘Millicent,’ asked Professor Flitwick delicately. ‘What do you feel when Susan fires the charm at you? Do you feel anything at all?’

She lifted one of her hands, extended her fore finger and plunged it into her ear hole, swirling it several times. After withdrawing it, she breathed heavily, as if deep in thought, before turning to the teacher, her usual dim witted, gormless expression plastered all over her decidedly ugly face. This little pantomime was Millicent’s usual preliminary action before answering a question.

‘Not much,’ she said, before continuing to chew her gum. Professor Flitwick sighed. For three years he had tried and tried to get Millicent to react. He had tried Anger charms, Love charms, Cheering Charms, Hatred Charms. Nothing, not a single emotion or sensation ever came out of that girl, other than boundless stupidity, enough to rival that of a brain dead hedgehog.

‘Oh, Millicent, whatever are we to do with you?’ he asked cheerfully. ‘You didn’t feel anything at all? Not a little touch of cheerfulness? Didn’t it make you feel just a little bit happier to be alive? Did you suddenly notice the wonderful sunlight streaming into the room? What happened? Did you feel anything at all?’

Again, she paused, looking at him sullenly with an expression not dissimilar to that of an elk that has been in a coma for the past three years, before breathing heavily and making her reply.

‘No.’ She chewed her gum a bit more, like a cow, forever chewing the cud, looking at him as if he were some fungal infestation on her left foot.

‘No,’ repeated Phillip, dejectedly. ‘Nothing at all. Oh, well, there you have it, folks, the Cheering Charm. If you think you’ve got it, brill! If you haven’t, just come along and see me whenever you’ve got a free moment, and I’ll give you a little nudge,’ he made a little gesture to match his speech, ‘in the right direction! Okey doke?’

The class, full of Slytherins and Hufflepuffs, grumbled indistinctly as they packed their stuff away.

‘See you all next day! Salut!’ He jumped down off his pile of books, and began organising his stuff. He shook his head as he thought of Millicent Bulstrode. The poor girl, she was so dull and boring, and with so little to think about. Phillip hardly imagined her mind as being a place of great intellect and academia. He doubted whether she could even think at all. Ah, well.

***

’Hermione Granger,’ said Professor McGonagall, as she approached the bushy haired third year as she made her way out of the Arithmancy classroom.

‘Yes, professor?’ she asked.

‘I need to speak to you in my office.’

The girl nodded and followed Minerva along the corridor. Usually, whenever Minerva asked to speak with a student, their faces betrayed their worst fears- that they had been caught doing something they shouldn’t have been. The only students who didn’t cower were Fred and George Weasley and Hermione Granger. Of course, there was no question that the Weasley twins were up to something, but Miss Granger always seemed perfectly at ease and willing to help. Minerva shuddered thinking about the Weasley twins. She would be taking them to London after the Quidditch Match on Saturday.

‘Have a seat, Miss Granger,’ said Minerva, closing the door. ‘I want to speak to you about your timetable.’

‘Yes, Professor?’

‘Professor Dumbledore wanted me to make sure how you have been getting on- that everything’s not getting on top of you.’

‘Oh, no Professor, I’m doing just fine. I have been having a little worry about my transfiguration homework, though.’

‘Really? How very unlike you.’ Minerva was quite surprised and, yes, disappointed.

‘It’s just, I came across a small bit in Intermediate Transfiguration that puzzled me slightly, so I looked it up in A guide to Keyhole Transfiguration. That sorted one problem, but it opened up a whole Pandora’s box. You know me, once I start reading; I get diverted and spend hours reading about something of no significance at all. But anyway, I read a paragraph about the Werewolf Transfiguration…’

At this, Minerva’s ears pricked up.

‘…and it said that Werewolves can transform when they’ve been given Anti-Transfiguration Potions, which disagreed entirely with what I’d read in An Evaluation of Involuntary Magical Transformations. That said that werewolves could…’

‘I think I know what you’re getting at, Miss Granger,’ said Minerva. ‘And, if you don’t mind, I won’t go into the lengthy explanation right now. You won’t be studying werewolves in Transfiguration until you complete the NEWT, so it really isn’t important to the course work. And, just by the way, a lot of people in the wizarding world, especially around here, get very worried when you start talking about werewolves and such. I have to ask you not to go putting that sort of idea in people’s head, especially now, in these times.’ She glanced out the window. ‘Obviously, I’m quite sure you would never do this intentionally, but just to let you know… A lot of inquisitive pupils of a Muggle background, such as yourself, who are only looking for extra information in the most innocent way, often find themselves offending people whom it would be wise to steer clear of.’

Hermione Granger looked piercingly at McGonagall with thin lips. She looked distinctly put out that Minerva hadn’t answered her question.

‘Okay,’ she said.

‘That’s all, Hermione,’ she said. ‘Just making sure you’re time table’s working well.’

‘Good bye,’ she said stiffly, and exited the room.

Minerva sighed, and sat back in her seat. Hopefully she had put her off werewolf hunting for today. It wouldn’t do to have Hermione Granger poking about that area. She’d sniff out Remus Lupin sure enough, and as soon as she told Potter and Weasley (as, Minerva surmised, she undoubtedly would) pandemonium would without question ensue.

***

Later that week…

‘Hello, Edith,’ said the Headmaster, as he sat in the Staff common room, late on a Saturday Afternoon, reading a newspaper. Beside him was a large stack of Muggle newspapers.

‘Morning, Albus,’ she chirped. ‘Everything well?’

‘Well, I’ve spoken to Fudge, and I don’t think the dementors will be allowed inside the grounds again.’

‘Who would have thought it would happen at a Quidditch Match.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘These are dire times, Albus, dire times.’

‘I couldn’t have put it better myself, Edith,’ said the Headmaster sorrowfully.

‘I just hope they catch that bastard before something worse happens.’

Albus surveyed her over the top of his half moon spectacles. ‘Not quite the most appropriate phraseology, Edith, but my sentiments precisely.’

‘What’s that noise?’ asked the Herbology Professor sharply. In the background, they could hear the thud, thud, thud of wood on wood.

They waited in silence, as the sound grew steadily louder, until they saw the Deputy Headmistress hauling a large trunk down the elaborate wooden staircase.

‘Hmph!’ she breathed, as it reached the Staff room floor.

‘What on earth are you doing, Minerva?’ enquired Edith.

‘A very good question,’ fumed the Transfiguration witch, dabbing at her sweat encrusted forehead with a handkerchief. ‘And one that affords an explanation. Should I tell her, Albus, or would you prefer?’ Her lips were dangerously thin and her voice was perhaps a decibel or two above the usual loudness of normal conversation.

‘Minerva is accompanying two of our most exemplary students on a trip to London, to help us re fortify the castle.’

‘Really? Asked Edith, looking intrigued. ‘And who will you be accompanying?’

‘Fred and George Weasley, no less!’ she cried, with patches of crimson colour in her cheeks. ‘I assure you, Albus, I will have you for this!’

‘Alas,’ said the Headmaster, with ill disguised glee, ‘it seems I am to suffer the wrath of Minerva McGonagall. Few have lived to tell the tale.’

Edith chuckled appreciatively, but stopped, when there was a loud knock at the door. All three of them paused, looking at each other uncertainly. No one ever knocked the Staff room door, they usually just barged in.

‘Come in,’ said Minerva stiffly. The door pushed open, and Fred and George Weasley sauntered in, each levitating their trunks before them.

‘Hi!’ called Fred, more a shout than a salutation.

‘Afternoon all!’ said George, nodding to each of them in turn.

Minerva stood, speechless. Albus and Edith both looked to see her reaction, both of them quivering with laughter.

‘What on earth are you doing here?’ bawled the Deputy Headmistress. ‘This is a restricted area! No student is supposed to know this part of the school even exists!’

‘Hush, hush, gentle lady,’ said Fred soothingly. ‘We’ve known about this place since first year.’

‘Look, Fred,’ said George, while Minerva eyed them beadily. ‘They’ve got those cracks fixed.’

‘Oh, yes, so they have, and there’s a new bookcase!’

‘Wh…’ started Minerva, but Albus butted in in front of her. ‘Why don’t you three make your way down stairs? Your carriage is probably waiting.’

‘Good idea, sir,’ said Fred.

‘Our assistants waiting there for us,’ George told him.

‘Your ASSISTANT?’ screeched Minerva. ‘You’ve hired an assistant?’

‘Yes,’ said Fred, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. ‘It’s in our contract, look.’ He pulled out a roll of parchment, and unrolled it. It was about three metres long, and at the bottom Minerva could clearly see Albus’s signature, and that of the two boys.

‘Paragraph C, Sub section IIV,’ said George.

Minerva examined the article, as if desperate to find something.

‘Chop chop,’ said Albus, clapping his hands. His moustache was quivering violently, and the twinkle in his eye was going mad, like an electric spark. Edith could barely control herself, and was using a purple armchair to support herself. ‘Mustn’t be late!’

Minerva shot him a withering glance, before motioning to the two boys to move.

She bent over, and began heaving her case.

‘Here,’ said Fred Weasley. ‘Levitosa!’ he pointed his wand at her case, and it floated out in front of her. ‘That’ll save you the work of hauling it out there, Minerva,’ he said.

‘It’s Professor McGonagall to you,’ she snapped.

‘Come, come, we’re all friends on this trip.’ He punched her on the shoulder in a friendly way. ‘Hurry up, now! Don’t want to miss our train.’

He marched out the room, leaving Minerva to follow him. She did so, but not before shooting her superior a look that would have cut ice.

‘I’ll kill you,’ she said. ‘I swear, Albus Dumbledore, I will kill you.’

‘Au revoir!’ he called after her, before collapsing into peals of laughter with Edith.

Out in the Entrance Hall, things were going terribly for Minerva.

‘Madame et Messieurs, your steed awaits,’ said Lee Jordan, who, it transpired, was the twins “assistant”. The four of them piled into the carriage that was waiting for them, putting their trunks in the compartment at the back.

‘What are the arrangements for the hotel and such like?’ asked George Weasley, with the air of a big city business man.

‘We’ll be staying at the Hélène Hotel in Diagon Alley. I’ve booked us a suite of rooms, so we’ll have a lot of privacy to go over business plans and such like. There are four bedrooms, all with their own private bathroom and balcony. There’s a main sitting room area as well, where one can gain access to the four bedrooms. Fred, you’ll be in Bedroom A, George, you’ll be in Room B, I’ll be in room C and Minerva, You’ll be in Room D.’

‘It’s Professor McGonagall!’ she said.

‘Whatever, Minerva,’ said George lazily, looking out the window. Minerva was about to retort, when she realized it would be useless. Anyway, she could see Hogsmeade Station approaching.

‘Have you booked a cabin on the train?’ asked Fred.

‘No,’ said Lee. ‘They don’t do cabins on these trains, so I just booked the whole First Class Carriage.’

‘Okay then,’ said George, his face alight with glee.

‘Here we are,’ said Fred, as the door snapped open. ‘The train’s waiting for us, we’d better hurry up! Come along, Minerva.’

Sighing, the Transfiguration Professor shook her head. At least, she thought, I’m not stuck with some slippery little Slytherins- they are Gryffindors.

***

The First Class compartment had been completely cleared of all but a few couches and armchairs, all around the central table. Rain lashed against the walls, which were decorated with portraits and maps. Oil lamps that clung to the wall were already alight, and it was looking dark and grey outside. The three students were sitting around the table playing the card game Switch. Minerva was sitting reading a book, listening to every word they said. A few times she almost found herself laughing at their jokes, but she caught herself just in time, and instead gave them a withering look, which, of course, they ignored. If anything, their jokes grew more outrageous and, unfortunately, more funny.

‘Minerva, would you like to play a round?’ asked George after a while.

She looked at him over her square spectacles, but said nothing.

‘It’s all right, their just normal cards. No teeth, claws or explosives.’

‘We’re keeping them for later,’ said Lee with a smirk.

‘Very well,’ said Minerva, sighing. She had at least another nine hours in this infernal train with them, she might as well permit herself a little break.

Once Fred had dealt the cards, they began playing. As usual, with wizard cards, the King, Queen and Knave cards could move, and would often shout advice to the holder, which, of course, only the holder would hear.

‘Black King, pick up five, George,’ said Fred, placing the King of Spades down on the pile, who was smirking evilly and placing with his orb.

‘Ha! That’ll show you!’ he shouted at George.

‘Not so fast,’ said Fred. ‘Pick up ten, Minerva,’ he placed the King of Clubs down.

‘Hmm,’ Minerva thought, before placing her cards down on the pile. ‘Red king, two of hearts, three of hearts, four of hearts, four of clubs, four of diamonds, five of diamonds, six of diamonds, six of clubs, seven of clubs, queen, knave, eight and, last card, nine.’ She placed her last card down on the pile with a triumphant smirk. Fred, George and Lee looked at her with astonishment. A moment ago, she had been holding fourteen cards, while they each had only three. Now, after almost having to pick up ten, she had won the game.

‘Congratulations,’ said Fred, unsmilingly.

‘Why thank you,’ said Minerva, taking the little pile of bronze Knuts from the middle of the table. ‘Now, why don’t we all sit quietly and read a book or something?’

‘We could do that,’ said George, looking pensive.

‘Or,’ said Fred, ‘we could play… EXPLODING SNAP!’

‘OOOh, yeah!’ crowed Lee, as Fred pulled out the pack of cards and threw them at a table. There was a loud, loud bang, which rattled the glass in the window frames, and nearly frightened the life out of Minerva. Fortunately, there was also a huge emission of smoke, which saved her from embarrassment.

‘Would you like to indulge in a game, Minnie?’ asked Fred, as the smoke cleared.

‘Inviting though that offer is,’ she said. ‘I think I might just refuse.’

‘Your loss!’ he said, before slapping the pack, causing a loud noise and lots of smoke, quite possibly the two things the Weasley Twins liked the most in the world.

The next half an hour, which Minerva had intended to be a nice, quiet time to relax, was interspersed with bangs, shouts, fogs of grey smoke along with whooping, shouting and just general rumpus.

‘Can you please stop playing this infernal game?’ asked Minerva finally, after Lee had once again shouted “SNAP” at the top of his lungs, causing a huge outpouring of noise from the other two and smoke from the deck of cards.

‘Okay, Minnie,’ said George. ‘No problem.’

‘We’ll play… SHOOT THE MOOSE!’

‘What on earth…?’ asked Minerva, but Lee held up a hand to stop her. ‘Watch and learn, Minnie, watch and learn. This is a little game the twins thought up all on their own.’

‘I doubt it requires a great intellectual capacity to play, then,’ she remarked dryly.

‘Just the game for you, then, Minnie dear,’ said George coyly as he pulled a moose suit out from inside his trunk.

As it transpired, Shoot the Moose involved one of the participants dressing up as a moose, while the other two fired things at him from the large blunderbuss style shotguns they had. They did not fire tranquilliser darts, or bullets, as Minerva would have liked, but instead the most ridiculous objects. Rubber chickens, burning tyres, tear gas, animals that transfigured from a chicken to a pig every couple of seconds, and an astonishing variety of hexes, such as the Nasal Hair Growth Hex, the Webbed Toe Hex and the Bladder Filling Hex. The enchanted moose horns could deflect everything, and fire it back at the sender, or where ever it wanted, and it was from this part that the boys derived their fun. Minerva sat, watching them for almost an hour, as they fired the most abysmally childish things they could at one another.

‘Sweet lord help me,’ she murmured to herself, as Fred fired a goose to Moose George, all three of them laughing hysterically.

End of Chapter

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