Celebrations in the Staff Lounge

Despite knowing his colleagues were planning a celebration, Anthony was still startled when he entered the staffroom.

The entire room was adorned with decorations. Ribbons hung from ceiling to floor, and glittering golden confetti floated down, only to be lifted back up by some unseen force upon touching the ground.

A massive silk banner hung on the wall, emblazoned with the words: "Henry Anthony, Hogwarts Professor of Muggle Studies" (with a handwritten "Welcome!" added to the side, which Anthony recognized as Sprout's handwriting) and "Senior Member of the Society for the Study of Muggle Artifacts."

Strangest of all, the Christmas tree had been put back up. Anthony distinctly remembered Professor Flitwick taking it down at the start of the term.

"What's all this?" he asked, bewildered.

Bang!

Professor Sprout set off a party popper.

Amidst the flurry of confetti, Professor Burbage said with a smile, "Go on, get your present, Anthony. Remember what I said? This is your belated Christmas gift."

A small box wrapped in traditional red and green paper rested under the tree. Anthony picked up Professor Burbage's gift, tore off the wrapping, and opened the box—

Inside was a small silver medal with "British Society for the Study of Muggle Artifacts" engraved around the edge, "Senior Member" in raised letters in the center, and his name at the bottom.

"Why?" Anthony asked, surprised. He had assumed the package that had been delayed was a book shipped from overseas.

The president of the Muggle Studies Society winked. "Because I want to bribe you into taking over all the professorships as soon as possible?" She chuckled and sighed. "I have so many things I want to do. I've always been curious about how the Ministry of Magic handles Muggle affairs, and I hope to find time to propose changes to the Statute of Secrecy. Call me ambitious, Anthony, but I can't wait for the world to become what I envision."

Anthony smiled as well. "Thank you, then I wish you the best of luck."

...

The staffroom was abuzz with excitement.

According to Professor Burbage, she had initially planned to simply present the badge to Anthony, but upon hearing the news, her colleagues decided to throw a welcome party for the new senior member. Professor Flitwick wanted to test out his rejected Christmas decoration scheme ("Owl feathers are quite enough, I don't need Cornish pasties dusted with glitter, thank you."), and Professor McGonagall planned to use up some leftover fireworks.

So they took advantage of Anthony's new status to organize a grand celebration, which was perhaps a bit over-the-top.

Champagne bubbles clung to the sides of glasses, slowly rising to the surface. Professor Sprout was describing a plant from the Far East to Professor Burbage, waving her wand to illustrate the shape of its leaves in the air. Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were debating some magical theory, their conversation peppered with "yes, but" and "even so."

Trelawney, her bangle-laden arm outstretched, selected the glass of wine she was fated to drink. Beside her, Quirrell sat in a corner, ignoring the mountain of rock cakes on a plate, his gaze fixed on the fire in the hearth.

Hagrid had initially intended to come, but the hippogriff was about to give birth ("The expectant mother is so anxious, she's barely more than a chick herself."), so he couldn't leave. He sent a large pile of rock cakes in his stead.

Not wanting to disappoint Hagrid, Anthony walked over and took a small piece (he was mindful of the size), then noticed Quirrell, who seemed out of place at the party.

"Professor Quirrell," Anthony greeted him.

Quirrell startled, then mumbled an acknowledgment and took a rock cake.

Anthony wasn't sure why Quirrell had even agreed to attend. He assumed the organizers had invited all faculty members, but also given them the option to decline. Professors Kettleburn and Sinistra, whom he barely knew, were absent, as was the Potions Master from Slytherin.

Another surprise attendee was Professor Trelawney. Although they both taught elective courses, he had little interaction with the wispy Divination professor. He also greeted Trelawney, saying, "Professor Trelawney, I'm surprised to see you here."

Trelawney surveyed the room with an air of superiority, her voice echoing eerily. "I wouldn't normally attend such a gathering. Those with the Inner Eye are often solitary figures, and I frequently find myself immersed in the ethereal realm. When one is constantly attuned to the fates of others, witnessing their predetermined futures, how can one be bothered with the trivialities of the mundane world."

"I understand," Anthony replied politely, turning his head to see if anyone wished to interject, but everyone seemed engrossed in conversation, except for Professor Quirrell, who was struggling with a rock cake.

Trelawney suddenly raised her voice dramatically, silencing the room momentarily. "However! When Pomona knocked on my door, I saw myself accepting her invitation. So, naturally, I followed the guidance of the future. And in doing so, I was also bestowed with a mission, Professor Anthony. I came here to relay a message from the future."

She placed her goblet on the counter with a flourish, as if to emphasize that she certainly hadn't attended for the sake of this pale yellow, sour beverage.

"You must beware the next waxing gibbous moon," she declared ominously. "I see blood and carnage."

Anthony heard Professor McGonagall ask Professor Sprout behind him, "Seriously, Pomona, you invited her?"

She made no effort to conceal her voice. Anthony suspected Trelawney had heard it too, because she took a deep breath and continued in an even more ethereal tone, "Dear Professor Anthony, I am deeply sorry for your misfortune. Oh, the tragedy."

"Thank you, Professor Trelawney," Anthony said politely. "Would you care for an egg tart?"

Trelawney stared off into space for a moment, as if checking whether her future self would accept the pastry. Then she said vaguely, "Of course, since it is fated."

Anthony took an egg tart for himself, then turned to see Quirrell watching him with a peculiar expression. He shrugged in response.

"Waxing gibbous moon?" Professor Quirrell asked quietly.

"I don't even know what day it is, and I'm not an expert on astrology or astronomy," Anthony said. "These egg tarts are quite delicious, by the way. Highly recommended, Professor Quirrell."

Professor McGonagall, who had approached them, chimed in, "Don't worry, she tends to welcome new students with prophecies of doom. She's being rather friendly towards you, considering. You're right, Anthony, the egg tarts are quite good."

.....

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