In the Staff Room That Other Time

"Yes," said a sharp, clear voice inside the empty staff room. "I'll do it tonight."

Professor Quirrell seemed to be talking to himself. (Actually, he was talking to himself. The certain someone currently living beneath his turban had already insisted that he 'do it tonight'. That was why he had lured Dumbledore out of the building, after all: to get the Sorcerer's Stone. Quirrell, however, seemed to think it necessary to confirm his actions to himself over and over again throughout the day. He was nervous as a... well, basically he was nervous as a man about to perform an extremely risky and illegal theft-resulting task.)

"Let's see... that 3-headed dog is no problem..."

Professor Flitwick entered.

"Oh," Quirrell practically gasped as he jumped nervously, "g-good day?"

"Yes, thank you. How has it been for you?"

"B-b-been...? T-teaching! Yes, good... q-quite normal..."

Flitwick frowned slightly at the odd response, but chose to ignore it. He hopped up into a chair and produced some cappuccino (surpassingly strong for such an itsy bitsy man).

Shortly after, Professor Sprout came in to drink some green-leaf tea. An overly large fly by the name of Sibyll Trelawney floated in. Curiously, she stopped to hover over the herbology teacher's shoulder.

"Ooooo, Sophie-!"

"Please, Sibyll," Sprout interrupted the dramatic announcement (which was likely to include death) and put her hand over her cup. "I'd prefer to drink my tea without having it read."

"But I see-"

"No, Sibyll."

"If you honestly wish to refuse the inner eye-"

"Thank you. I do." Sprout smiled up at her politely.

Sulkily, Trelawney sank into a seat and made her own cup of steaming tea. For a moment, her eyes drifted to Flitwick's cup, but she seemed to decide that it was impossible to read the whip-cream topped substance. The large buggish eyes roamed the table. (Quirrell discretely cast a spell to make his milky coffee disappear.)

Severus Snape walked in and sat down without any greeting. He gulped down some extremely nasty coffee (he... liked it that way, for some mysterious reason) and scowled briefly at Quirrell. Quirrell smiled weakly.

Someone quickly tiptoed past the door outside. The mystery person took up a post next to the door and remained there. Snape frowned at the door suspiciously and refilled his cup.

"Severus! I see-"

"I know," he said, and drained the coffee before Trelawney could tell him.

"So, what do you think the ministry wanted Albus for?" Flitwick offered a conversation topic.

"Oh, let's see... with Fudge running the ministry it could be, say... some teenager's prank that he thinks will somehow endanger his political career (which would, of course, doom the fate of the world), or perhaps the second rise of the Dark Lord," Snape said blandly. (Quirrell coughed loudly and shrugged in an awkward, uncomfortable fashion.) "But the latter he would consider a trifling annoyance in comparison to the former catastrophe."

Flitwick shook his head, smiling a little.

Trelawney spoke up. "I expect it is something awful and life-altering-"

"I'm sure," Snape said, painting his voice with sarcasm. Suddenly, his eyes flickered back to the door. "Alright, I've had enough of this. I'll be right back."

He swept over to the door and swung it open, looking down at someone waiting outside.

"Miss Granger," he smiled in an annoyed way at the out-of-view student. "Is there a reason you have been gracing this door with your presence for the last five minutes?"

"Erm..." the girl was heard to say nervously, "I was... waiting for Professor Flitwick..." Her voice seemed abnormally high.

"Is that so? Shall I get him for you, then?"

Snape stepped back into the room, baring his teeth in a frustrated way. "Miss Granger wishes to speak with you," he addressed Flitwick.

"Oh," the little man said, looking somewhat puzzled. He hopped down and went out into the hall.

Snape closed the door behind him, looking satisfied.

"What do you think she wanted to-" Sprout began.

"Oh, I highly doubt Miss Granger has anything whatsoever to say to him." He smirked.

Minerva McGonagall entered. She looked rather tired. She sat down and made herself some plain tea.

Trelawney leaned...

"Oh, for goodness sake, take it, Sibyll." McGonagall held out the cup to her irritably. "Take it and go."

Trelawney floated out, looking offended and muttering something about "jealous of my calling."

"Potter and Weasley were patrolling the third floor corridor. They're convinced that they know someone's going to try to take the Stone. I'm sure whomever it is would just give up and flee at the sight of two first years. They wanted to talk to Dumbledore before, but he's gone, of course."

Quirrell slipped out, looking... oddly pale.

"Where would we be without them to save the world from me?" Snape droned. "I think I'll leave before Granger goes back on stalking duty. Maybe she'll want to talk to you after she's through with Flitwick, McGonagall."

With that, he left.

"What glorious manners," Sprout said sarcastically, now alone with McGonagall.

"Yes, and such a graceful winner. I do wish we could beat Slytherin in something this year."

"That would be nice."

"Yes, in fact, honestly, I wish we could beat Slytherin to a shameful pulp." She growled quietly to herself, then cooled down after a sip of plain tea. "Gryffindors: always sneaking out and losing house points. Anyway, there's much more to this school than winning awards." McGonagall primly stirred her tea. She sighed wishfully. "If only..."

Of course, it was practically impossible...especially with Fred and George Weasley helping out...

Then again, Dumbledore's not an overly practical man, is he?

(Aha! We end with foreshadowing...)