The pre-term faculty dinner at Hogwarts proceeded in a very harmonious and warm atmosphere. Bryan, despite his best efforts to maintain his usual composure, found himself caught up in the pleasant mood. Even the normally scowl faced Snape seemed to have relaxed slightly.
Everyone, including Bryan, had indulged in a fair amount of drink.
"My dears," Professor Trelawney slurred, "the Inner Eye sees... it sees... oh my, is the room spinning, or is it just me?"
With that, the eccentric professor toppled sideways off her chair, becoming the first person of the new academic year to require Madam Pomfrey's professional attention. And Madam Pomfrey who had wisely refrained from overindulging, quickly sprang into action.
"Really, Sybill," She tutted in exasperation as she helped the drunk Trelawney to her feet. "One might think you'd have foreseen this particular future."
Madam Pince hurried over to assist, her usual severe expression softened by concern for her colleague. Together, the two witches supported Trelawney between them, guiding her unsteady steps towards the grand doors of the Great Hall.
"Come along now, Sybill," Madam Pince's voice echoed in the hall. "A good Sobering Solution and a lie-down is what you need. You'll be right as rain in time for the students' arrival."
As the trio made their slightly awkward exit, the remaining staff members exchanged amused glances. Professor Flitwick's tiny form shook with suppressed giggles, while Hagrid's booming laugh echoed off the unenchanted ceiling.
In the midst of this good-natured chaos, Bryan's gaze was drawn to Professor Snape. Their eyes met for a while and it was clear that Snape wished to speak with Bryan privately.
Bryan nodded almost imperceptibly. However, before he could make a move to leave from the gathering, he felt a firm hand grasp his elbow. Turning, he found himself face-to-face with Professor McGonagall, her square spectacles glinting in the candlelight.
Professor McGonagall had undergone a remarkable transformation. The warmth and friendliness that had softened her features throughout the evening had vanished, replaced by the stern, no-nonsense demeanor. It was clear that, despite the late hour and the wine consumed, Professor McGonagall had shifted firmly into work mode.
"A word, if you please, Professor Watson," She said, her Scottish accent more pronounced than usual. Without waiting for a response, she began steering Bryan towards the exit, her grip on his arm brooking no argument.
From his seat at the head of the table, Dumbledore watched this interaction with twinkling eyes, a knowing smile hidden behind his impressive silver beard. He raised his goblet in a silent toast as Bryan threw a helpless glance over his shoulder, clearly realizing that whatever Professor McGonagall had in mind was not to be avoided.
As they climbed the grand staircase, Professor McGonagall maintained her resolute silence. Portraits lining the walls whispered and pointed as the two professors passed, clearly intrigued by this late-night procession. Sir Cadogan, the manic knight, attempted to challenge Bryan to a duel from his frame, but a stern look from Professor McGonagall sent him scurrying behind his pony.
Finally, as they reached the corridor leading to Professor McGonagall's office, she broke her silence with an exasperated exclamation:
"Only you, Bryan! Only you could manage this!"
Recognizing the signs of an impending lecture, Bryan adopted his most apologetic expression. Bryan obediently perched himself on a three-legged stool facing Professor McGonagall's imposing desk, his posture unconsciously mimicking that of a first-year student called in for a scolding. The comparison wasn't entirely inaccurate, given the look she was giving him.
The cool night air wafting through the newly opened window did little to dispel the flush of wine from their cheeks. Professor McGonagall busied herself with preparing tea, her wand flicking with practiced ease as she simultaneously stoked the fire in the hearth.
"Professor Vector," Professor McGonagall began, her voice stiff with barely contained frustration, "returned to Hogwarts a full ten days ago and even Professor Dumbledore hasn't left the castle for the past three days. And yet you, Bryan – you, with the mountain of work awaiting your attention – have only just returned now!"
"I had many things to handle--" Bryan mumbled, pursing his lips, but was immediately silenced by Professor McGonagall's stern look.
The desk before them was a testament to the workload facing the Hogwarts staff in preparation for the new term. Stacks of parchment wobbled precariously, each pile representing a different aspect of the school's administration. Schedules, student records, curriculum plans, and correspondence from the Ministry of Magic vied for space amidst a clutter of quills, ink pots, and half-empty cups of tea.
With a flick of her wand, Professor McGonagall summoned two steaming cups of tea from the sideboard. She handed one to Bryan before settling into her high-backed chair. For a moment, she simply sipped her tea, allowing the tension in the room to build.
Finally, she set down her cup with a decisive clink and reached for a particularly imposing stack of documents. With a grunt of effort, she hefted the pile – easily several feet thick – and deposited it in front of Bryan with a resounding thud.
"This," she said her tone brooking no argument, "is about the Triwizard Tournament."
Bryan's eyebrows rose involuntarily at the sheer volume of paperwork before him.
"The specific events of the Tournament are, of course, classified at the highest level. Only a select few within the Ministry are privy to those details at present. However," she tapped the stack of parchments meaningfully, "they've forwarded us a comprehensive list of materials required for constructing the event venues. We're to have everything prepared well in advance of the first task."
Bryan's brow furrowed as he skimmed through the topmost pages. "Surely this falls under Hagrid?" he said unhappily, smacking his lips. "Ground preparation, venue construction – it seems more suited to his expertise."
McGonagall's expression softened almost imperceptibly. "Under normal circumstances, you'd be correct. However, we find ourselves in a rather... delicate financial situation."
She leaned forward, her voice dropping lower. "Hogwarts' annual budget is allocated directly by the Board of Governors. Any unexpected expenses – such as those incurred by hosting an international magical tournament – require a separate application process. The report and itemized list are here," she gestured to the intimidating stack, "and I've already attached my signature. Now we need you and Dumbledore to sign. Please, do me a favor and finish this tonight!"
Professor McGonagall's face was tense, her lips pressed tightly together.
As he looked at the mountain of paperwork before him, Bryan suddenly felt a toothache coming on. However, a thought seemed to cross his mind, and without much complaint, he acquiesced, his tone more agreeable than McGonagall had anticipated. "Very well, I promise to complete this as soon as possible. I'll find Headmaster Dumbledore for his signature as soon as we're finished here."
Professor McGonagall's rigid posture relaxed slightly at Bryan's cooperative response. She took another sip of tea before broaching the next topic, her tone noticeably gentler.
"Now, there's the matter of your physical education class, Bryan. It's not just my opinion, but a general consensus among the faculty that your current schedule requires some... adjustment."
Bryan's brow furrowed. "What seems to be the issue?"
"I don't object to you having the children spend some time on the field every day, Bryan. It's good for them. But regarding the classes after dinner every other day, many professors have voiced concerns to me. They believe the timing is unreasonable because that's when young witches and wizards mainly handle their homework and prepare for upcoming lessons. To make up for this lost time, the students either have to stay up late or rush through their assignments."
Bryan nodded slowly, considering her words. "I've considered whether to add this course as an elective for third years and above but the curriculum is still in its experimental stages. I'm hesitant to expand it too broadly until we've refined the teaching methods."
His frown deepened as he thought aloud. "If evenings are out of the question, perhaps weekends—"
"Absolutely not," Professor McGonagall interjected firmly. "Weekend time belongs to the students. It's their opportunity to rest, socialize, and pursue personal interests. We make it a policy not to encroach on that time with formal classes."
"Then what do you suggest?" Bryan threw the troublesome question back to Professor McGonagall.
Professor McGonagall's expression softened slightly. It was clear she had given this matter considerable thought.
"My suggestion is still to schedule it on school days--" Professor McGonagall seemed to have considered this issue before and spoke directly. "Since you don't intend to incorporate the course into Hogwarts' curriculum for now, it means the participating students are fixed. I've noticed they're mostly fourth-years. You can choose a time slot that suits the majority of fourth and fifth-year students. As for the older students who've passed their O.W.L.s, their schedules are relatively flexible. And if absolutely necessary, we could retain one evening session."
Bryan nodded slowly, though his expression remained troubled. Coordinating such a schedule would be daunting. He'd need to review every participating student's timetable, identify potential conflicts, and then negotiate with their Heads of Houses and individual professors to resolve any clashes.
"There's... one more matter we need to discuss, Bryan," Looking at Bryan who was having a headache about arranging the class time, Professor McGonagall's solemn expression suddenly became a little unnatural, "It's about the safety plan you submitted to the International Confederation of Wizards. Specifically, the proposed class arrangements for our guests from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang during their stay at Hogwarts."
"What about it?" Bryan's attention snapped back to the present, his eyebrow arching quizzically at Professor McGonagall's suddenly evasive manner. "Is there a problem with the plan?"
"Oh, it's not exactly a problem--" Professor McGonagall took a deep breath, her tone slightly reproachful. "It's just... well, it's a rare opportunity, isn't it? I mean, for our students to interact with their peers from other magical traditions. But your current arrangement has the Durmstrang students attending classes with Slytherin, and the Beauxbatons students with Ravenclaw."
She paused, her lips pressing into a thin line before she continued, "As Head of Gryffindor House, Bryan, I feel obligated to advocate for my students. They deserve an equal chance to benefit from this valuable cultural exchange."
Bryan barely suppressed a groan as he registered the implicit accusation in Professor McGonagall's words. He hadn't assigned the visiting students to Slytherin and Ravenclaw out of any sense of favoritism, but he could see how it might be perceived that way.
"I assure you, Professor McGonagall," he began, rubbing his forehead wearily, "I had no intention of depriving Gryffindor or Hufflepuff students of this opportunity. My primary consideration in drafting the plan was the well-being of our guests. They're traveling a great distance to experience a radically different educational approach. I felt they would benefit most from a... shall we say, a more serene learning environment."
He trailed off, trusting that McGonagall would read between the lines.
It was no secret that Gryffindor and Hufflepuff students tended to be more boisterous and sociable. While these were admirable qualities in many respects, they might prove distracting for students trying to adapt to an unfamiliar academic setting. There was also the not-insignificant matter of how such distractions might impact the visitors' exam performance – a diplomatic incident Bryan was keen to avoid.
Professor McGonagall's brow furrowed as she pondered Bryan's explanation. After a moment of contemplation, she gave a reluctant nod. " Well, I admit your consideration is reasonable--" she admitted, though her tone suggested she wasn't entirely satisfied with the outcome.
Their discussion wandered through various other topics related to the upcoming term and the looming tournament. The candles in Professor McGonagall's office burned lower, casting elongated shadows across the room as the night deepened. Finally, after what felt like hours, Bryan rose from his seat, his joints protesting the movement after so long in one position.
With a casual flick of his wand, Bryan vanished the towering stack of documents from Professor McGonagall's desk. "I'll review these thoroughly in my office," he assured her, suppressing a yawn. "You'll have them back, signed and annotated, by morning."
Stepping out into the corridor, Bryan found himself at a crossroads, both literally and figuratively. To his left lay the path to Dumbledore's office, to his right, the dungeons where Professor Snape's private quarters were located. He stood for a moment, weighing his options.
"Hmm," he thought aloud, his voice echoing slightly in the empty hallway. "Dumbledore's always been a night owl. I'd better check in with Professor Snape first--"
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