January 4

It seemed a perfectly normal morning at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Today, numerous students would be returning from their holidays as usual, the professors would check over their lesson plans as usual, and the house elves would prepare a delicious breakfast, lunch, and dinner… as usual. On this very usual morning, Pomona Sprout woke up, got ready for the day, donned her cloak, and walked to the greenhouses to check on her plants. After she had had them watered, checked their mulch, and fed them (some, anyway), Professor Sprout took her usual morning walk along the grounds and up to her office. She took off her gardening cloak, put on her inside cloak, and placed her gardening gloves in her pocket. The Professor rummaged in her desk for a quill and a bottle of ink. Finally finding them, she brushed off some lingering crumbs of dirt from her desk and placed the quill and ink there. She meticulously unscrewed the cap on the bottle and carefully placed it on her desk, so as not to spill any ink. That finished, Professor Sprout placed her patched hat on her flyaway hair and bustled out the door. As she walked along the corridors of the school and waited for a staircase, Pomona smiled and chatted with some of the paintings. Finally, her long- awaited staircase arrived.

“Have a nice day!” she said cheerfully and stepped onto the mobile stairs. The Professor walked down them, then some more, and some more, before she finally arrived at her destination: the Great Hall. On her way in, Professor Sprout found herself next to Severus Snape. “Isn’t today just an absolutely wonderful day, Severus?” she asked amiably.

Some students who had stayed at Hogwarts over the Holidays winced in apprehension, but surprisingly enough, no bitter retort came from the stern Potions Professor. Extremely surprisingly, he smirked and replied, “Yes it is, Pomona.”

With that, Severus swept into the Great Hall and took his usual place at the Staff Table next to Minerva McGonagall, who was looking uncharacteristically happy. “Oh aren’t you excited Severus?” she asked him, glancing anxiously at the windows.

            “I most definitely am, Minerva,” the Head of Slytherin replied. He pulled his lips into a strange kind of half-grimace. Students in the Great Hall would later gossip to their friends about how Snape should stick to frowning, because his smile was much worse.

            In a few minutes, all of the staff were assembled; most of them were too restless to do more than pick at their food. Albus Dumbledore, at the center of the table, smiled in anticipation and the ever present twinkle in his clear blue eyes was growing by the second.

            “Oh Filius, I’m so nervous,” Veneleri Vector whispered, twirling a lock of her dark brown hair over and over around her index finger.

            “Don’t worry Leri,” Filius reassured her, “After all, Albus did say - ”

            He was cut off by Sibyl Trelawney. “I foresee DOOM in the future!!!!” she wailed, waving her arms about. “My inner eye senses a dark aura approaching Hogwarts!!!!”

            “Shush Sibyl!” Minerva cried sternly. “Some of us don’t need the added pressure of your preposterous visions!” she snapped. Minerva was about to say more, but Rubeus placed two fingers on her arm and pointed towards the ceiling.

            There they were! The Staff Table became unusually hushed at the sight of the many owls that were flying towards the Professors. Each owl dropped a light brown envelope into the plates of each Professor, excluding the Headmaster. Fortunately, many of the plates were empty, so the important envelopes remained unsoiled. The Professors froze before springing into action. Each and every one of them snatched the envelopes from the table, though their techniques differed. Severus, for one, was graceful in his snatching-up… well as graceful as you can get, anyway. Minerva, on the other hand, flung her hand out and milliseconds later, she had run out of the room and up to her office. Sibyl, on the third hand, slowly and cautiously picked up the envelope, as if expecting it to turn red and explode in a fireball, any second now. Within the space of the next few minutes, the Staff Table emptied out until only Albus was sitting there, calmly sipping his pumpkin juice. Unsurprisingly, his blue eyes were twinkling like mad behind his half-moon spectacles. The scattered students sitting at their House tables whispered amongst each other.

What was going on?

“Hell if I know,” muttered a dispassionate Slytherin, answering his neighbor who had asked that very question.