The spacious, almost half-a-Great-Hall-sized Staff Meeting Room was brightly-lit, and at the centre of the room was a long table occupied by the professors.

At the head of the long table sat Albus Dumbledore - the current Headmaster of Hogwarts. His brilliant, soul-piercing blue eyes appeared unfocused and distant. He seemed to be lost in thought - his hand occasionally stroked his long, impressive beard. It was as though he sat there pondering the mysteries of the world.

‘They are making Lemon Drops sweeter than usual; they don’t pack quite the sour punch they used to. How lamentable.’ he shook his head slightly, sighing. ‘Hm. I need to have a talk with Wiggins… Perhaps he can make me an exclusive pack? I will send him an owl after this.’ 

The other professors sat around the table, some chatting, some lost in their thoughts, some sat with parchments. McGonagall sat on Dumbledore’s right chatting with Flitwick who - in turn - sat on her right. McGonagall had a small smile on her face and her eyes sparkled with interest as she discussed with Flitwick about something seemingly very interesting. 

Flitwick’s hands were animatedly gesturing as he said excitedly, “... that means the Atmospheric Charm doesn’t need the Meteolojinx Recanto to counter it at all! Marvellous, isn’t it?”

McGonagall nodded, her brows raised in surprise, “Indeed. I never expected the Tria-modified Windy Charm could be used like that… Is it perhaps the strong Spell Energy overwhelming the Atmospheric Charm’s rather delicate layering?”

The diminutive professor nodded, “That is the most plausible explanation I could come up with. However, some academics - like Whitemane - disagree. And quite vehemently too.”

Minerva snorted, “Whitemane? She’s hardly an academic, now, is she?”

Sitting on Dumbledore’s left, Snape looked as if the world owed him a thousand galleons. His sallow complexion twisted in a scowl, and his dark, penetrating eyes stared at the empty seat next to Flitwick.

Sprout, on Snape’s left, was discussing the latest issue of Witch Weekly, with the Professor for Study of Ancient Runes - Bathsheda Babbling. 

Hagrid’s massive form took up slightly more than two places. His eyes darted around, never staying at one place for long and he especially avoided looking towards the head of the table where Dumbledore sat. He didn’t know what to say to Dumbledore about the whole Hippogriff-Malfoy fiasco. After all, he’d been trusted by the Headmaster to teach the kids and keep them safe. And he bungled his job on the very first class! He wouldn’t be surprised if he was demoted to his old position as the Keeper of Keys and Grounds of Hogwarts. He was already prepared for such a thing. But he still hoped that Dumbledore would be able to do something.

As Hagrid was still caught up in his thoughts full of gloom, there was a knock at the door of the staff room before it opened, letting in a rather haggard-looking Lupin. His bloodshot eyes were framed by the dark circles under them and his face looked as though he had never seen the sun in his lifetime. His shoulder sagged slightly as he walked in.

Lupin smiled rather weakly, “Pardon my tardiness, I was recovering from my, er, furry little problem.” he joked lightly. 

“It is quite alright, Remus. You’re on time,” Dumbledore shook his head and gestured to the seat next to Flitwick, “Take a seat.”

Lupin nodded gratefully and took his seat, pointedly ignoring Snape’s glare - who now looked like everyone owed him a million galleons. He was not in the mood to entertain his old rival/enemy.

After the DADA professor was seated, Dumbledore tapped the table twice to gather attention before he spoke, “A very good evening to all of you, colleagues. We gather for the first time this academic year. Let us begin like usual.”

McGonagall, who was now back to her usual stern self, nodded and began strongly, “Something needs to be done about those foul dementors. Even if they are strictly outside the school, their presence is most loathsome and all of our moods are affected, much less the students who are not quite as resilient. And I honestly do not believe in their ‘control’ to keep away from the students the ministry so assured us of. A castle filled with adolescents is the most delectable feast they could ask for. And it is right in front of them. This is no different from dangling a piece of fresh meat in front of a Dragon!” 

All of the professors nodded or otherwise indicated their assent quite vigorously. The mere presence of Dementors just outside Hogwarts’ grounds was affecting them; while it wasn’t as bad being in close proximity to them, the long-term exposure will be just as bad if not worse for any human being. Especially for the students.

Flitwick nodded seriously, “Those things are bringing down the entire school with them. I have already noticed students getting into squabbles and fights more often. The first-years aren’t making as quick in making friends.” Being a weak empath, Flitwick was rather excellent at reading emotion. Although this was mostly useless when it came to adults who knew how to control their emotions, for younger children - most of whom wore their hearts on their sleeves - however, it was a great tool.

“Bullying seems to be on the rise as well. And it’s become harsher as well.” Bathsheda Babbling added, her brows scrunched up. She was rather worried about the children. She understood very well what bullying could do to the psyche of a child. But she was unable to interfere because it would only make things worse for the victim. She had been a victim in her younger days as well.

The rest of the professors once again nodded in assent. Dumbledore's eyes briefly flickered with imperceptible hatred. He despised the presence of the Dementors more than anyone else in this school. It was impossible for him to not hate it: the dementors were against everything he stood for as a wizard and as a human. And the sheer revulsion Magic had for the dementors was much too strong for any other emotion to take root. And that’s not even talking about the fact that their extended presence was a danger to his students. But he was helpless. The Ministry’s Aurors were useless and had to rely on these foul beings to catch one man.

He sighed yet again, “I’m afraid there is little I can do, Minerva. The Ministry is adamant about placing the dementors in Hogwarts - they are much too scared of Black. The best I can do is keep them outside school.  I will try and talk the dementors into staying a bit farther away - maybe the Forbidden Forest. Try your best to ensure the students don’t go too far.”

McGonagall also understood that. The Ministry was scared of Black, yet they also wanted to seem strong and catch him. The few of Ministry’s competent Aurors like Moody, Shacklebolt and Blackwood were all busy dealing with other threats that kept popping up: there was never a lack of wannabe Dark Lords and other powerful criminals who went around causing chaos and hurting innocents in their pursuits. They were no Grindelwald or Voldemort, but to the ordinary wizard, they were an insurmountable threat.

“Black is truly smart in not attacking the innocents, doing little to no damage, thereby keeping the more competent Aurors busy with the Dark Wizards,” Flitwick said. “And thus forcing the Ministry to rely on dementors he knows he can escape. The dementors are not that smart after all.” 

“I quite liked the boy; always so charming and articulate. I’d lost count of the number of detentions he wormed his way out of.” Sprout lamented, “It is a shame that such a talented boy fell into the hands of You-Know-Who.” 

“Indeed. It led to the end of some of the brightest students I’ve ever taught.” McGonagall said plaintively, her voice slightly hoarse.

Snape’s mouth twisted into something between a sneer and a grimace. The feelings he had for the whole incident were too complex for him to parse even after nearly thirteen years. So he simply bottled it up and shoved it deep inside his mind, despite knowing how much it could damage his mental health and had already done. He felt that the pain was the right punishment for someone like him.

Lupin, on the other hand, flinched at being reminded of the most colourful days of his life with James, Sirius and Pettigrew - carefree and happy. Now, only he was left of the Marauders. One was dead, the other was blasted into pieces leaving nothing but a pinky, and the last one had turned traitor. Where had it all gone wrong?

Dumbledore saw through his colleagues’ mental states and changed the subject, “Well, let’s not lose precious time over things we cannot change. Does anyone have anything to report?”

There was a short pause before it was broken by Snape.

“Headmaster, I wish to report the outrageous misconduct of Miss Weasley: she has enchanted the door to the Potion’s classroom enchanted to shout, ‘I’m Batman!’ every time I walk in. Such behaviour, such mockery of a professor should have her expelled immediately!” he said adamantly.

Lupin barely managed to hold back his snort: he understood that reference immediately. Having a hard time making a living in the Wizarding World due to his werewolf status, he had to venture into the Muggle World to barely feed himself. And there he’d come across something the Muggles called ‘Comics’. He had found himself hooked instantly.

Snape sneered, “What is so funny, Lupin? Missing your days with your friends, bullying perfectly innocent-”

“Ahem.” Dumbledore cleared his throat, “Severus, my boy, do you have any evidence that it was indeed Miss Weasley? That was an obvious reference to a popular Muggle Comic and as a pureblood who has never really been in contact with Muggles, it is unlikely that it was her.” 

Dumbledore watched with amusement - the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly - as Snape almost squirmed with discomfort at being referred to as ‘my boy’. He continued, “I find it far more probable that her brothers - Fred and George Weasley - were responsible; their friend Lee Jordan is a muggle-born, after all. Besides, such a prank does not warrant an expulsion.”

Logically, this was the most correct explanation. But his instincts told him otherwise. He had observed the rather brilliant lass from the moment words of her excellence had reached his ears. And indeed, she was every bit as brilliant as the professors - bar Snape - painted her to be. 

He defended her mainly because he had a vested interest in keeping her in the school: his conclusion from nearly eight months of observation was that she was just like himself, just like Tom Riddle, just like… Grindelwald. An Anomaly. 

In history, there were legendary figures who stood out in terms of skill and power. Their understanding of Magic was so far beyond ordinary wizards that it seemed nonsensical to them. The Egyptian Queen Cleopatra, the Peverell Brothers, the Founders, Herpo, Ekrizdis, Merlin, Morganna, his own teacher - Nicholas Flamel, Grindelwald, himself, Tom Riddle and many others whose name had been lost to history; for example, that one Roman Witch who had managed to invent the Magical Latin that almost every modern used. Every time these Magicals - whom he referred to as ‘Anomalies’ - appeared, they left their mark on the world, whether they were remembered or not was irrelevant.

The Peverell Brothers created the Deathly Hallows, the Founders established Hogwarts, Herpo created the Basilisk and the Black Magic of Horcruxes, Ekrizdis created the Dementors, and Merlin and Morganna were obvious. Flamel was one of the only two people who managed to create the Philosopher's Stone - a near-infinite source of Magic; which was deemed near impossible to create. Grindelwald came incredibly close to World Domination. And he himself defeated Grindelwald. Voldemort hardly needed to be mentioned.

And every one of these Anomalies had a tremendous urge in them to prove themselves - often bordering on irrationality either because of their circumstances or by virtue of their talent. All of the ones he knew personally had it in them: Riddle, Grindelwald, himself and his teacher.  All of them.

Even the historical evidence pointed to his assumption being the truth.

So, at the end of the last academic year, when he found the perfect chance, he wasted no time trying to investigate the veracity of his assumption.

Another quirk of an Anomaly was their Sin. One or more of their Cardinal Sins, along with their Pride, was amplified to be much stronger than a normal wizard - it was almost as if they had a price to pay for their monstrous talent. 

As much as he disliked manipulation, it was necessary to learn more about the girl. He wanted to know if she would become a threat to his plans or the world at large - like Grindelwald had been and Riddle was. He was quite surprised by the temperance the girl showed despite her sheer Wrath. So he riled her even more by comparing her to Voldemort. He hated doing so - but again - it was necessary. He did not want to let another horror be unleashed into the world.

And the moment her Magic flared out, he knew. He knew that all his assumptions were correct. The quality of her Magic and the sheer activity of it was far beyond any others of her age. 

So he had a vested interest in keeping Miss Weasley in Hogwarts. Even if he was glad that she held the very same values he did - believing in love and family, he was still slightly paranoid. People changed. That was an eternal truth.

“Albus is right, Severus!” Flitwick’s squeaky voice broke Dumbledore out of his thoughts, “I do not believe such a sweet girl would do such a thing!”

‘Why does it always seem like you defend her more vehemently than her actual Head of the House?’ The other professor’s mouths twitched before they too defended her; after all, a student who took as much interest in their subject as she did was endearing to any educator.

Snape shut his mouth and sneered. He recognised a losing battle when he saw one. 

Even he did not understand why he disliked the girl so much. No, in fact, he understood, but he did not like it: she reminded her too much of Lily. The girl possessed the same willful attitude, the same remarkable talent in Potioneering, and even some of their mannerisms shared a strange similarity. He was reminded of the theory of reincarnation (a theory that the Eastern Wizards believed in quite strongly) that he had come across when he was desperate to undo the irreversible, to bring Lily back to life. He shook his head inwardly: he did not want to believe that. Besides, their differences were also obvious; Lily at least had a level of respect for the professors, unlike the arrogant brat he had the displeasure of teaching.

Lupin, on the other hand, recalled the Third-Year classes. He thought back to the remarkable ease she displayed in dealing with the dangerous magical creatures he had brought for the students to learn how to defeat. The most peculiar thing was the way they reacted to her presence - especially the Red Caps that almost seemed fearful of her.

“Ah, that reminds me! Did you know that Miss Weasley won the Under 15 Dueling Championship? I was so surprised when I heard about it from a friend!” the normally quiet professor Sinistra spoke up.

“Ah, yes! I recall as well! Quite an achievement, isn’t it?” Flitwick’s eyes lit up. “Though I was expecting her to join the Dueling Club, strangely she did not mention it at all.”

“Oh, I believe that is because most students have a misconception about the requirements to join a club lead by professors, as we normally only take those who are in the Fourth Year or above,” Sprout explained. They did so because of several factors. But it was mainly because of two reasons: their Magic was stronger because it would have been a year or more after their 4th magical maturity at 13 which sets the tone for the explosive growth in Magic that would follow. This was also partially the reason why students took electives in their third year. The second one was that students would be more likely to find their interests by this time. 

“You are probably right. Pomona, thank you for reminding me.” Flitwick nodded gratefully. He would at least have her in his club, since she wasn’t in his House. Minerva’s barely concealed smugness was starting to get to him. The small rivalry between him and Minerva was not a secret at all.

The herbology teacher simply nodded with a smile. She was just very satisfied that she had managed to trick a student into liking her favourite subject more! Her kind, understanding image was of great help in such cases. ‘The Longbottom boy would have a great time competing with her. It might also serve to strengthen his self-esteem, seeing how well he’s performing compared to a well-known genius.’ Sprout thought happily. She just loved it when a single stone hit multiple birds. It was so satisfying!

The professors continued to discuss topics related to the functioning of the school.