12

Chapter 12 – The Professor's Visits

Saturday 15th September 1990

Crawley, West Sussex

By the time that Hermione approached her eleventh birthday, Doug and Helen Granger were still unsure about whether they were going to allow their daughter and adopted son to attend Hogwarts the following September.

The unhealthy fascination that Hogwarts' Headmaster Albus Dumbledore seemed to hold for Harry had only waned slightly over the years since he had joined the Granger household, and it seemed to be a regular occurrence that either Monica or Sirius would report that they had been approached yet again by the persistent wizard.

Monica's tales of her own time at the school, whilst delighting Harry and Hermione, only served to make the Grangers even more wary of the school, although she was careful that she didn't specify exactly when any of the events had happened, as the children hadn't been told that she had come back in time.

So it was with something of a sigh of regret that a few days before Hermione's eleventh birthday there was an excited shout when the post was delivered and amongst the bills and medical correspondence for the dental practice there was an odd, parchment-style letter addressed to Miss Hermione Jean Granger.

"Mum! Dad! It's here!" came the scream from Hermione as she picked up the mail.

She deposited most of it on the coffee table as she raced into the living room waving the letter from Hogwarts.

It seemed as this was greeted by the sound of elephants rampaging, as Harry came thundering down the stairs from his bedroom, just as excited as his sister.

Doug and Helen shared a look, resigned to dealing with two hyperactive children for the remainder of the day.

"Well, let's have a look then, Hermione," Helen said, as Doug got up from his armchair to put coffee on. He had a feeling they were going to need it.

Helen and the two children looked over the letter and the enclosed equipment list, checking off the items that they had already purchased over the years and those that they would still need to return to Diagon Alley to buy.

"Why doesn't Harry have a letter?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know," Helen replied. "Maybe they send them out near your birthday, in which case Harry's won't come until next summer. We've still got to decide whether the two of you will be going though, or if we'll find somewhere else for you."

"Muum!" Hermione complained. "Neville and Susan will be going, so why can't we?"

"I'm not sure it's safe for you. It sounds like a real rough-and-tumble sort of place from what Monica and Sirius have told us, and you might be better off being taught at home, or maybe going to one of the foreign schools. Some of the teachers don't really seem to be very good at Hogwarts."

"Do we have to?" Hermione replied.

"We'll have to see. Maybe when this Professor McGonagall comes by to talk to you about the school we can see if she's able to put our minds at ease. That's not until the end of next week, so you'll have to wait until then before we can make a decision. I'll want to talk to Monica about it as well. Headmaster Dumbledore still has this weird fixation on Harry, so we'll want to be sure Harry's safe too."

"Okay, Mum."

"I've been to Hogwarts," Harry chimed in.

"What's it like?" Hermione asked excitedly.

"It's a big old castle," he replied. "I don't remember much about it. There were paintings that moved, like at Uncle Padfoot's house, but we didn't stop to talk to them. There were ghosts as well."

"Real ghosts?" Hermione exclaimed.

"Yeah. One was a pulterghost, and Uncle Moony said to stay away from him 'cos he could be nasty."

"You mean poltergeist."

"Yeah, that was it. And he said one of the teachers was a ghost as well, but that he was really boring."

"Well, I'm sure we can ask Sirius and Remus about it, as well," Helen informed them.

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Friday 21st September 1990

Crawley, West Sussex

There was something of a welcoming committee for Minerva McGonagall when she arrived at the Grangers' to inform them about the Wizarding world.

Doug and Helen had invited Sirius and his wife Agnes, Remus, and Monica to be present and for an early tea, so when the Hogwarts Deputy Headmistress was shown into the Grangers' living room she was surprised to find it to be rather full. Harry and Hermione sat on the floor in front of the sofa to give the adults enough room to sit down.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "What are all of you doing here?. This is a bit of a larger gathering than I had expected. And, I think my visit might be somewhat redundant, given the number of you who have already attended Hogwarts."

"Did the Headmaster not inform you that we had adopted Harry?" Helen asked, offering a seat to her visitor. "Or that we were fully aware of the magical world, having been friends with Monica and the others ever since?"

"No, not at all," McGonagall responded. "I was expecting this to be a normal muggle-born orientation visit."

"Well, I'm sure you'll excuse us the normal prefatory discussion about how magic is real and how it explains the odd occurrences that our children have been involved in over the years," Helen said with a grin. "I think you know everyone here? Sirius and Agnes Black, Remus Lupin, Monica Wilkins, and of course our children, Hermione and Harry?"

"Mostly, yes. Sirius, Agnes and Remus I know from their own days at Hogwarts, of course. And Harry I met as a much younger child, so I suspect he may not remember me."

"Of course."

"But I don't think I've met you before, Miss Wilkins," she said, looking at Monica. "You haven't been in my classroom, that I can recall, and I don't think our paths have otherwise crossed, so it's good to meet you."

Monica nodded back at McGonagall with a grin.

"And of course, young Hermione," she added, smiling down at Helen's daughter, sat at the foot of the sofa next to her brother, "who I am here for in response to her turning eleven and being eligible to attend Hogwarts."

"Hello, Professor," Hermione responded politely.

"I'm not quite sure where to start," McGonagall said, slightly flustered. "I'm not sure this visit was necessary at all!"

"Perhaps you could answer a few of our questions," Monica interjected, "so that Doug and Helen's minds might be set more at ease at letting their children go to a boarding school in Scotland?"

"Yes, that might be a good idea," she responded, regaining her composure somewhat, and accepting Doug's offer of a cup of tea.

They made small talk whilst Doug poured for everyone and handed round the sugar bowl. Some gentle opprobrium towards Sirius and Remus for not forewarning her of the gathering helped to break the ice slightly.

"So, since Sirius, Remus and Agnes all went to Hogwarts back in the seventies, they've been able to give us, and Harry and Hermione, some idea of what it is like," Helen began, "but obviously times have moved on since then, and nothing's quite the same as experiencing it for ones self. However, we had a number of concerns arising from their stories and from the equipment list that you kindly sent with your letter.

"Firstly, we had concerns over integration within the school. Sirius and Remus were both in Gryffindor, so had one particular perspective, but it seemed as though once you were sorted into a house it wasn't easy to make friends with those in the other houses – there wasn't any communal meeting place or common room, students were discouraged from sitting with other houses for meals, and, naturally, the library was expected to be a quiet study area. Has this changed at all?"

"I'm afraid not," the Deputy Headmistress replied, "but there doesn't seem to have been any particular demand for change on this. We could quite easily set up one or two of the unused classrooms as cross-house common rooms if that is what the students want, though."

"And the integration of muggleborns into society? Clearly this induction visit is an excellent beginning, but how are those not brought up with magic taught about the traditions and culture of the magical world? We understand that there is a "Muggle Studies" elective for third years and above, which provides an introduction for young witches and wizards to the 'real' world, but nothing for those coming into the school without knowledge of the magical world."

"This is something that is supposed to be learned through the History of Magic course, in the first instance," McGonagall noted with a frown, "and students are encouraged to talk to their Head of House if they have any questions on culture and traditions, though I must say it seems to be a rarity to be sought out for such queries of late."

"I'm not sure it's reasonable to expect eleven-year-olds to ask for extra help when they don't know they need it," Doug put in, "but this brings up another issue that we have noted from our questions: the quality of teaching seemed to be somewhat lacklustre at Hogwarts, and we wondered if anything had been done to address that in recent years?"

"Whatever do you mean?" McGonagall asked. "The teaching at Hogwarts is of the highest standard!"

"Well, let's take History of Magic as a first example, since we've already touched on it.

"All of our friends here have noted that the subject is taught by a ghost, a Professor Binns, who drones on and many of the class find it difficult to stay alert. Not only that, but he seems to be overly focused on the various interspecies wars between wizards and goblins, and some of the treaties involved, and doesn't cover very much of the material that is required in order to pass the exams."

"That's completely true, Professor," Remus added. "We had to do self-study for about two thirds of what appeared on the OWL and NEWT papers, and it was lucky that we had been forewarned by older students about it, otherwise we wouldn't even have known we were missing so much of the syllabus."

McGonagall frowned again.

"The students never seem to complain about this, other than that the class is particularly boring," she said thoughtfully. I had thought that this was simply the usual case of teenagers complaining about one of their lessons, but perhaps I'll have to look into Professor Binns' teaching more closely."

"And what about Defence Against the Dark Arts?" Sirius asked. "Dumbledore seems to have had terrible trouble getting suitable teachers for the subject, and even worse luck in holding on to them for more than a year."

"Our former Muggle Studies professor, Quirinius Quirrell has returned after a sabbatical to take on the post."

Monica stirred uncomfortably, reminded that Quirrell had hosted Voldemort for the period when he had taught Defence, and exchanged a look with Sirius, who was also aware of this. She would have loved to have asked where Quirrell had been on sabbatical, in case he had again encountered the Dark Lord's shade in the forests of Albania, but couldn't think of a way of bringing it into conversation without revealing her foreknowledge. She would have to keep a close eye on the man, or find someone who could.

"Well that's good news, at least," Helen agreed tentatively. "The Muggle Studies curriculum looked as though it needed a serious revision, judging from what Agnes told us about the course in her day, and hopefully a new teacher there will have improved things."

"What do you mean?"

"Well there doesn't seem to be much recognition of changes in the modern world, from what I can tell – Agnes, perhaps you could explain further?"

"Sure, Helen," Sirius's wife replied. "I would say, professor, that the Muggle Studies curriculum needs completely re-working. There's very little in it about automation or oil-based technologies – the course seemed to assume that the height of innovation was the Hogwarts Express and that muggles still used similar power to drive their motorcars and trains, which of course hasn't been the case for many years.

"When I took Muggle Studies, there was only a vague reference to how the Second World War was an analogue to the Grindlewald War in the Wizarding world, but nothing about bombs or tanks, and the idea of firearms seemed to be limited to the very early development of breach-loading rifles, which is quite ludicrous considering the development of modern weaponry.

"I would have said that any witch or wizard with no previous experience of the muggle world other than the Muggle Studies course at Hogwarts would either die a fairly swift death if he or she found themselves in the centre of London or Edinburgh, or at the very least would be completely overwhelmed and likely to panic!"

"Merlin's beard! Why do you say that?"

"Simply the pace of life and of motor vehicles, Professor. The heaving mass of millions of Londoners going about their business can be hard to navigate even for those used to it, and as for potential death, we no longer require a man with a red flag to pace in front of an automobile – the speed limit in towns is thirty miles per hour and most family cars can now reach speeds in excess of three times that!

"But that's not the only area where muggles have moved on, Professor. I see from your equipment list that you still require students to purchase quills and ink?"

"Well, yes. What else would they write with? Pencil just doesn't last and can be so easily erased."

"Well, a fountain pen should do the job just as well, Professor, and those have been around since at least the seventeenth century, but these days we tend to use one of these."

She opened her handbag and passed Professor McGonagall her Parker. Doug picked up the notepad from next to the telephone and handed it to her.

It took a few moments for McGonagall to work out that she needed to press the end of the pen to make the nib appear, and she peered at it closely.

"This has a very fine tip," she said. "How does it retain its sharpness?"

"It's not actually sharp," Agnes replied. "The tip is a tiny ball-bearing that rolls to release the ink stored within when you move the pen across the page. Try it and see."

McGonagall gripped the pen and began to write, then immediately removed it from the paper.

"Ingenious!" she said. "And the ink seems to dry almost instantly!" she enthused as she continued to write.

"Yes, another advantage over the fountain pen or the quill," Agnes agreed. "I'm told it uses a different kind of ink from those, so that it dries quicker and doesn't smudge as easily."

"I'll have to get myself some of these," McGonagall said fervently. "They'll make my marking so much quicker! They must be expensive, though?"

"Not at all. This one was the equivalent of a couple of galleons, but you can get them from as little as a couple of sickles each. They aren't made individually, but mass produced, and there must be tens of thousands of them sold across the world every day."

McGonagall reached out to hand the pen back and put the notepad on the coffee table.

"You can keep that, if you like, Professor," Agnes said. "I can get another on the way home."

"Thank you kindly, Mrs Black."

McGonagall tucked the pen away into her own handbag with a nod.

"So, were there any other questions you had, Helen? Doug? Or you, Hermione?"

"I notice that along with the potions ingredients there is a requirement for dragon-hide gloves for handling hot and caustic substances," Doug said, "but there isn't any mention of other protective wear, such as goggles or a lab coat?"

"A lab coat?"

"It's a protective coat worn over the clothes when undertaking chemical work," Doug explained. "It stops any splashes before they reach the clothes."

"I see," McGonagall said. "I'm not an expert on Potions, but my understanding is that many students get their school robes charmed to be ever-clean and spillage-protected at extra cost when they get them at Madam Malkin's, and this should provide the necessary protection."

"Useful to know, Professor, and perhaps this should be set out in the equipment list as well, so that people know this beforehand?"

"Indeed. I had thought that only those more slovenly or clumsy children might have a need for such additional charms, but I can see your point about needing to keep ones clothes in good order when in the potions classroom. I shall make a note for this to be included in future.

"And you mentioned 'goggles'. Do you mean like aviators wear? I haven't seen anything like that other than for Quidditch players."

"Similar," Doug replied, "but very lightweight, and spacious enough to be worn over a pair of glasses."

He picked up a magazine from a rack alongside him and flicked through it for a moment until he found the picture he was looking for.

"Here," he said, handing the magazine across to the professor. "On the right hand side, you can see the goggles the woman with the fair hair is wearing. Oh and that's a lab coat she's wearing as well, so you can see what I was talking about before."

The woman in the magazine was dressed in what to McGonagall looked rather like plain white robes, though with button like an overcoat. She had a pair of transparent goggles on her face, not really all that similar to the goggles she had imagined, which had just covered the eyes, but she could see how these would be appropriate for protecting the eyes from the spits of a boiling cauldron, especially for someone who wore glasses.

"I see what you mean," she said. "I would have to talk to our Potions professor about the need for students to wear something like this, but there shouldn't be any problem if you wanted to have Hermione equipped with something like this.

"Anything else? Hermione, perhaps? You've been quiet so far – is there anything you'd like to ask me about Hogwarts?"

Hermione looked to her mother for approval before replying to McGonagall, and received the nod she was expecting.

"When will Harry get his letter?"

McGonagall smiled. It was so nice to see that the child's first thought was about her adoptive brother, and that he had fitted into their family so well. She shuddered to think of how he might have been treated by the Dursleys all these years, had he been left there as Albus had originally intended.

"We send them out a few days before your eleventh birthday, so it won't be until next July if I remember correctly. I can't imagine there's any reason why he also shouldn't receive one, but it will be the same as yours, of course."

Hermione nudged her brother and they smiled at each other.

"I don't imagine that I'll need to return when Harry's letter is sent out," she continued, "but of course if you need me for anything," and her gaze moved to take in Harry, the Grangers and all their guests, "all you need to do is send a letter via owl. I trust that Mr Black can source one for you should the need arise, but if not then there is an owl office in Diagon Alley that will lease you one for a small charge."

"Perhaps we'll get an owl for Harry or Hermione for Christmas," Helen said with a wink at the children.

"Of course," McGonagall agreed. "Whilst Hogwarts does have an owl or two for communal use, it's far easier to communicate with siblings, parents and so on if one has one's own owl."

Sirius and Remus shared a look, and nodded at Helen.

"We might talk about that later, Helen, if that's okay. We have some ideas along those lines that might be of use."

Professor McGonagall shuddered slightly in concerned premonition, and gave Sirius a quelling glance that threatened unspoken but very real retribution should he come up with anything that caused her problems.

Helen and Doug thanked her for her visit and for answering their questions before Helen saw her to the door, assuring her that if they needed to get in touch they would do so, but that they needed time as a family to think about what they had been told.

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Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts

Friday 21st December 1990

Albus Dumbledore was a frustrated man. He had spent years trying to ensure that Harry Potter would return to his Aunt and Uncle, where he might be kept unaware of how the Wizarding world worked and come to see his invitation to Hogwarts as an escape into an adventure-filled, eye-opening world, where Headmaster Dumbledore was seen as the paramount figure of light magic, and whose protection he would seek and approval he would be desperate to achieve.

Instead, his attempts had been thwarted at every step. Not only had the boy been taken in by a family that loved him and treated him well, they had made contact with other witches and wizards whose opinion of Albus was less than exemplary, and who had apparently managed to get the young boy and his adoptive sister aware of Wizarding traditions and of what the magical world around them had to offer.

Worse, one of these adult witches seemed to have an unerring and unexplainable stack of knowledge about Albus and how he worked.

This 'Monica Wilkins' – he still couldn't figure out where she had come from - had been a major thorn in his side, and even those in the Ministry who had regularly turned to him as the bastion of light over the last few decades had started to consider him with a certain amount of suspicion, rather than simply accepting his word as to what was best for the Wizarding world.

All things considered, he was glad that the school term was about to come to an end, with just the evening feast to endure before the children would mostly be packed off back to their families for Christmas. Perhaps he could make a final effort to gain some measure of control over the Boy-who-Lived.

Former Headmaster Armando Dippet's portrait interrupted his musings and alerted him to the fact that his Deputy was ascending the staircase and about to knock on the office door.

"Come in, Minerva," he called, just as her knuckles rapped upon the wooden portal.

Professor McGonagall pushed the door open and came to the desk, settling herself primly onto the chair opposite the Headmaster.

"Is everything ready for the students' departure in the morning?" Dumbledore asked. "No last minute problems? You have the list of those staying over the break, I trust?"

She handed the short list of students not returning home, and assured him that all was in order, unless he had any new needs between now and the Hogwarts Express leaving at 11am on the morrow.

"I've also been having a look at the quality of our teaching, Albus" she added, "which is one of my responsibilities as Deputy, as you will be aware."

The Headmaster looked up at her sharply.

"Everything is well, then, I trust?" he asked.

"Not exactly," McGonagall replied. "I'm rather concerned that we are not only slipping behind our rivals at Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, based on our OWL and NEWT results, but also that we might slip yet further back based on the current standards we're setting."

"Whatever do you mean, Minerva? I'm sure that we're providing the best quality teaching we possibly can here," Dumbledore said.

"Well, I'm not so sure, Albus. Our overall scores are heavily buttressed by the exceptional Charms and Herbology grades that so many of our OWL students get, which is testament to the excellent jobs that Filius and Pomona do with their subjects, and the high average score that our NEWT Potions students achieve, but that's hiding some serious deficiencies in some of the other subjects."

"Surely not? I'm constantly being praised by the East European Ministries for the excellent results we achieve."

"Yes – in comparison with Durmstrang and the other minor East European schools, we might be doing quite well, but Beauxbatons and the American schools rank rather higher, and would be at an even greater distance were it not for the subjects I mentioned before."

Dumbledore frowned. Surely this was not the case. He would need to get copies of the latest academic comparisons from Madam Pince, but he was certain that his Deputy was over-reacting.

"In any case," McGonagall continued, "I've been doing unannounced assessments of the other Professors, their course curricula, and their teaching methods-"

"That wasn't necessary," Dumbledore interjected. "I have complete faith in my teaching staff."

McGonagall raised an eyebrow.

"You may have, but I do not. And I have to say I am profoundly concerned by some of the classes that I attended."

The Headmaster sighed. He was beginning to see the signs in Minerva's body language that indicated she was setting out on a crusade.

"Go on," he said with resignation.

"Firstly, I should report that other than some minor deviations from the core themes and expected teaching standards, I found no particular problems with the classes held by Professor Flitwick, Professor Sprout, Professor Babbling, and Professor Vector.

"Professor Curtis's classes are struggling simply because we've had such a regular turnover of staff in Defence against the Dark Arts that it takes the first part of the year for the new teacher to understand how well each class understands the underlying material.

"I would suggest that if you can't get rid of the curse on the subject, then you either cancel it and start a new subject covering the necessary material, or you at least move the class to a different room in the castle to see if there's something in the Defence classroom that's causing the issue. You might get Gringotts involved if you need a cursebreaker."

Dumbledore looked in horror at her over the top of his half-moon glasses at the suggestion of inviting outsiders into the castle to assess it.

"We've tried moving the class, but it seems the curse follows it around," he replied mournfully, "and the Ministry won't allow us to rename the subject – Fudge is fearful we'll start teaching the Dark Arts themselves, I suspect – I've already tried once."

McGonagall snorted. She suspected that the Headmaster hadn't tried particularly hard to make the changes.

"That's as it may be," she continued. "but something needs to be done about it."

She glared at him until he dropped his eyes in submission.

"Next, Madam Hooch needs to have an assistant or a prefect assigned to her flying classes, as she has twice this year been forced to leave her class to their own devices whilst she escorted an injured student to the infirmary. If you are happy for me to do so, I will arrange this at the next prefects meeting?"

"Yes, yes, an excellent suggestion. By all means go ahead and arrange it."

"Professor Kettleburn also needs an assistant. He's struggling to keep up with the animals he needs to show the students in his NEWT class because his manual dexterity and mobility have been compromised by all the injuries he has received in the job over the years."

She looked up at the Headmaster over the top of her glasses.

"If you were of a mind to right an injustice, you might see that Hagrid's name gets cleared and he be allowed a wand again. He would be an excellent assistant for the Magical Creatures class, and might even be interested in training to becomethe teacher for the subject as and when Silvanus decides to retire, if you can't get Wilhemina Grubbly-Plank to take on the role in anything more than a temporary capacity."

Dumbledore nodded. Hagrid's involvement in the Chamber of Secrets debacle of the 1940s was something that kept coming up every time that his name got mentioned, and perhaps it was past time that his name was cleared once and for all.

"I'm not quite sure where to start with Divination," McGonagall said. "Trelawney seems to understand her material, but she freaks the students out with her mystic persona, and she seems to foretell the death of one or another of them pretty much every week. Her room absolutely reeks of opiates, which I am sure are illegal, and she seems to spend at least two nights a week at the bottom of a sherry bottle.

"I suggest that she be weaned off the sherry somehow, Albus, but also that those intending to take Divination as an elective at OWL level should only be allowed to do so if they demonstrate some level of talent in the subject, or have a family member who has a documented talent in the area.

"At the moment, students are getting better scores on their OWLs and NEWTs simply by making things up than they are from any understanding of the subject."

"Ah, Minerva, poor Sybil has been cursed with the true sight that runs in her family I'm afraid. She needs to remain in the castle for her protection."

McGonagall ignored the completely illogical leap that the Headmaster had made. She was fairly sure that there wasn't anyone out there going around assaulting or killing Seers.

"That's fine, Albus, but we need to stop students wasting their time taking the subject if they have no discernable talent in it. These are students who should really be taking a different elective; one that will make a difference to their education and lives, not lounging around making up fanciful stories as their homework.

"My recommendation is that we run a 'basics of Divination' course for the second years in the spring term, so that they know what the preconditions are and what they are getting into. Sybil can run part of that course to make sure they get a good grounding in what she teaches, but it's probably best to get input from other sources as well: the centaurs might be interested in covering a class or two on their speciality within the discipline, and we might get someone from the Department of Mysteries in for a couple of weeks to put it all in context."

"Very well, Minerva. That seems to make good sense," he capitulated.

Hopefully she could get the 'guest' contributors to do so without expecting a fee – his budget was already looking pretty paltry. At least Trelawney was already on staff and he could justify not paying her anything extra for the 'introduction' class if it meant fewer students for OWL and NEWT classes.

"Astronomy. Professor Sinistra does a very good job, but we need to reassess the timetable for this subject. At the moment we're expecting students as young as eleven to be up in the Astronomy Tower at midnight for this class, which is completely unreasonable. Not only are they pretty much useless in their classes the following day because of their lack of sleep, but there's no guarantee that the night will be cloudless and suitable for stargazing in any case.

"Furthermore, more than half the class is theoretical, rather than practical, for which there is no need to have the night sky available. And, let's face it, for much of the year it's dark enough before the end of regular class time in any case."

"True, true," Dumbledore agreed, "but it is traditional for Astronomy to be a night-time class."

"Is that your only objection?" McGonagall asked.

Dumbledore shrugged wearily.

"I suppose so," he said reluctantly.

"In that case I'll go ahead and change it then," his Deputy informed him. "I'll liaise with Aurora Sinistra to reschedule her classes. I'm sure she'll appreciate it."

McGonagall looked down at her notes.

"One of the things that has cropped up during my muggle-born initiation visits this year has been how I have come to realise that our Muggle Studies curriculum is so far out of date it's laughable."

"Surely not, Minerva?" Dumbledore asked. "Why, there's little new in the world, and even I could step out into London and summon one of their Hansom cabs with little difficulty."

"You make my point for me, I'm afraid, Albus. If you were to 'step out' in muggle London these days, I'm sure you'd get a great shock. They have changed an awful lot, and I think you would be surprised."

"Hardly so, my dear," he said patronisingly.

"Perhaps you should try it some time, Albus," she suggested, raising an eyebrow. "I think you're in for a shock. I doubted it myself when a former student mentioned it, but it appears that our current syllabus would do little to prepare a pure-blood who'd never ventured beyond the magical world for the experiences they would encounter and the threats that there would be to them.

"I went beyond the comfort of the Wizarding world and the occasional visit to a colleague's front door a couple of months ago to see it for myself, and I was scared to the core by what there was out there.

"The 'Hansom cab' you refer to is now capable of travelling at a speed even faster than the Hogwarts Express, and there are thousands upon thousands of them now on the roads. A pure-blood 'stepping out' of the Leaky Cauldron into the muggle side of London would have no idea how to cross the road, let alone do so safely.

"I had an old student accompany me around Edinburgh, and I can safely say that without them I would have been lost – not physically of course; the castle still provides an excellent orientation point – but with the sheer number of people, the vast array of shops and services, and the general pace of life.

"But going back to our Muggle Studies course, I think part of the problem is that we don't have someone familiar with the modern muggle world teaching it. Nor, indeed, are our OWL and NEWT examiners familiar with it. Both need to change, but I doubt that Madam Marchbanks and her examination authority will even consider it unless our teacher proposes changes."

"So what do you have in mind, Minerva?"

"I propose to arrange for Professor Burbage to experience a day in the muggle world for herself, accompanied by someone experienced in navigating it. Her teaching itself is fine, but the subject matter is so out of date that it's actually doing the students a disservice.

"I would then advise her that she needs to consider how best to convey the information to the students, whilst still enabling the next couple of years' worth to pass their OWLs and NEWTS. I would be prepared to work with her to convince the Wizarding Examinations Authority to get the exams changed. We've done this before when there were developments in a particular field, so there is an established protocol, but we need to get Charity on board first, or you'll need to look at replacing her with someone who's willing to get the changes rammed through."

"I see. You appear to have given this a lot of thought, Minerva."

She looked down, slightly embarrassed.

"I have to admit that I feel ashamed at how foolish I must have appeared to so many parents of muggle-born students over the years with my own lack of understanding of their world. Send a strange-looking letter, come over for tea, 'oh look, magic is real', turn the coffee table into a pig, here's your ticket for the train, 'see you on September 1st, any questions?'.

"Then we just expect them to send their children off to us without any understanding of what it is they're going to learn or what use it will be to them."

"Why wouldn't they? They're coming to one of the greatest places in the world to learn about their magic."

"Well, firstly, as I've said, they don't know what they're getting. They don't know how good our education is, or what it should be compared to. That's what has made me take another look at our teaching here, alongside some pointed comments from former students about the way they were taught and what was missing.

"But even then, we expect them to sink or swim without knowing how. We offer Muggle Studies to pure-bloods that bears little relation to what muggle life is like, so how can we expect them to have any respect for it, and we give muggleborns absolutely no guidance on magical customs or etiquette, or what our culture means and why they should adopt it.

"Is it really any surprise that we continue to see the Ministry in the hands of the pure-bloods continuing to advocate complete separate from the muggles, whilst a whole swathe of muggleborns either abandon the magical world once they leave Hogwarts or go abroad to America or Australia for better opportunities?"

"I think I understand, Minerva, but I don't think it's something we can change."

"Oh no, not overnight, Albus, but I think we need to remember that this is where many of those things are learned... or not learned... and to try and do something about it.

"Anyway, you've distracted me. I'll talk to Professor Burbage about modernising the Muggle Studies syllabus and get her on board with it."

"Very well," Dumbledore sighed. Little would stop her, and he always felt it best to humour her when she started getting passionate about educational matters.

She took a deep breath.

"I suspect you are well aware of the problems with History of Magic?" she asked.

"I'm afraid that we don't currently have the budget to replace Professor Binns, Minerva. We don't have to pay him, so any replacement would be an increase in costs."

"I don't think we have much choice, Headmaster. At the moment the only reason we get anyone passing History of Magic is because they study the material themselves, as Binns only focusses on the goblin rebellions and treaties, completely ignoring at least half of what comes up on the OWLs and almost all of the NEWT exam. He gives the students little or no attention, simply launching into his latest lecture as soon as he drifts into the room. His delivery is so soporific that even those with the greatest interest in the subject are deterred from learning it. There's a reason why almost all the good scores in History are by Ravenclaws, and that's because they ignore him completely and do their other homework during his lessons, saving their time in the library to research what they actually need to know for the exams."

"What do you want me to do? I don't have the funds to find a better teacher."

"You have to do something, Albus. We're failing generations of students by not having a proper teacher who both understands the requirements of the course and who can engage with his class. Anything we're saving on not paying Cuthbert a salary is a false economy."

"I'll see what I can do," Dumbledore half-heartedly promised, "but don't get your hopes too high."

"You might think about asking Remus Lupin to take over the role," McGonagall suggested. "He might accept it on a part-time basis in exchange for supply of the Wolfsbane potion."

Dumbledore winced. That would mean having to convince Severus to make the potion, something that would be a hard sell given his childhood rivalry with Lupin.

"We'll see. And speaking of Potions, I supposed you saved Severus's class for last for a reason?"

"Yes."

"Well you needn't have bothered. I have every trust in Severus's capability."

"Is that so? Have you actually attended any of his classes?"

"Why on earth would I need to do so? He's one of the best potion-makers I've ever seen. I reviewed his Mastery personally, and it was better than every previous one I've come across. The boy's a genius."

"Being a genius and a brilliant potioneer doesn't make him a good teacher, Albus."

"Who else could know the subject matter as well?"

"It's one thing knowing the material and being able to do it yourself, but something completely different being able to communicate it to others, as you well know. Professor Snape's attitude in the classroom is completely unprofessional, his blatant bias and rudeness is unacceptable, and his teaching method is abominable."

"I'm sure you're overreacting, Minerva."

"I'm not. I sat in on many of his classes this last term, Albus. On numerous occasions his only instructions were 'your assignment is on the board, you've thirty minutes'."

"Come, come, Minerva, these are experienced young witches and wizards. They know how and why to prepare their ingredients."

"This included the first years, Albus. When one of the girls asked what the difference between 'slicing' and 'cutting' was he called her a 'dunderhead' and asked why she hadn't read the information before she came to class. He took point away from the boy at the next table who tried to explain it to her for 'interrupting the class'."

"I'm sure it was an isolated incident."

"It wasn't. There were similar incidents in most of his other classes. I'm sure you will say this is my own prejudice showing, but he was clearly harsh on the Gryffindors in every lesson and very lenient with the Slytherins. He took points from Gryffindors for such perceived infractions as 'stirring too vigorously' and 'not stirring vigorously enough', whilst permitting Slytherins to enter the class late, talk to their housemates and even sabotage other students' potions without any sanction.

"He's the reason why so few Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs continue Potions to NEWT level."

"Perhaps they just don't have the temperament for it," the Headmaster suggested. "After all, we have the highest average grade in NEWT Potions in the western world"

"Albus, we have the fewest NEWT Potions students of any major school in the world, and Professor Snape is the reason why."

"I'm sure it's not as bad as that, Minerva, but if you're so convinced then I'll have a word with Severus and make sure he's aware that you are concerned about his teaching."

That wasn't what McGonagall wanted, but they both knew it was all she was going to get out of Dumbledore at this point. The worst of it, from her point of view, was that she was sure that the Headmaster would point out to Snape that she was monitoring his classes, so he would be sure to check for her presence going forward, which would defeat the point of her checking up on him.

"I think you should do more, Albus, but if you aren't prepared to at this point I'll hold any further action until it becomes necessary," she agreed, carefully not saying that she would take it straight to the Board of Governors rather than running it past the Headmaster first.