Everything Goes To Shit
Hogwarts's Headmasters - A First In Recorded History
For the first time in recorded history, Hogwarts finds itself with more than one Headmaster or Headmistress at a time. In fact, it now has two - former Potions professor Severus Snape and former Muggle Studies professor Sirius Black, both famous members of the Order of the Phoenix, have been chosen for the position. Neither were available for commentary, but we have managed to get into contact with former? deputy Headmaster Filius Flitwick, Charms professor. While not giving a personal opinion, he was able to describe the happenings in detail:
After almost six years in her position, former Headmistress Minerva McGonagall has found herself suddenly deciding to step back as Headmistress - to everyone's surprise, even her fellow teachers'. Yesterday evening, she called for a meeting in her study and abruptly tried to hand over Hogwarts's magic to the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor Remus Lupin, who has not been told anything about this beforehand. But as she was handing it over, it began to chose its way on its own!
In very rare cases, Hogwarts's magic has been known to decide its master for itself, if it finds the 'perfect' option for this position. The Headmistress was overjoyed - as, once the magic decided, it couldn't be refused or given back -, as something strange happened. Indeed, shortly before it reached professor Lupin, the magic divided into two and dove straight into professor Black and professor Snape, now Headmaster Black and Headmaster Snape.
The Hogwarts teacher body is now at a loss, professor Flitwick told us, seeing this situation has no precedent and there are no rules or laws that may apply. In addition, neither Headmaster has received official training for the position, apart from Headmaster Snape's one year while still working as former Headmaster Dumbledore's spy.
This entire situation couldn't be worse, you might think, but you would be disappointed, because this morning has found former Headmistress Minerva McGonagall absent from her chambers, with no traces as to where she went. Most of her possessions have left with her, indicating that she perhaps left of her own free will. The Aurors are still clueless and owls have yet to reach her.
Tensions are high at Hogwarts and there might be a few hard years to come, but we can all hope for this precarious situation to get better from here on. And, although Hogwarts has taken a hit with this sudden power change, it has taken worse and will live to see yet another day.
- Written by Magdalena Stilletson, Daily Prophet
Minerva McGonagall, former Headmistress of Hogwarts, Order of Merlin, First class, former Transfiguration professor at Hogwarts (for over 45 years, dammit!) and longstanding employee of the British Ministry of Magic sighed as she let the newspaper slide out of her hand and onto the table. With a soft sound it hit the hard wood and Minerva sat there for a few seconds, silent, her mind reeling.
She hadn't actually meant it, when she'd thought about it in the dark of the night while reading paper over paper, the pages blurring to a single, horrifying picture. She had believed never to see the light of day again, never to be able to leave her study again (not hers anymore, not hers, not hers, not hers!), strapped to the chair by duty. Dreaming of the outside world had only been natural.
But then, suddenly, she found herself freed from these chains, freed from the clutches of the public, the students, the ministry. Just like that, all that responsibility fell onto Sirius and Severus. Could she be to blame for fleeing as fast as possible?
She hadn't meant to run away while she was Headmistress, but now? She felt entitled to it. Also, Jamaica was beautiful, and far, far away from anyone looking for her. It seemed like the logical conclusion to flee the pressure of being Headmistress and the chaos that was the after-war time in Britain.
She shifted on her chair to get a better view through the window that looked down on the small beach she could now call her own. The picturesque scene was framed by bundles of leaves of her little grove of (mostly) magical trees and she felt more content than she had in years.
And, after all, she had left Sirius and Severus each a note telling them to send her a letter every week. Everything was alright, wasn't it? They both were responsible adults, after all, and she was certain they had only the health and education for the students at heart.
(Maybe she was lying to herself, but she'd gotten very good at it in the past six years, so it was kind of hard to tell.)
.o0o.
...You better send me a letter every week, Sirius, or else I will find you and gut you like a flobberworm. I want to know about everything that happens, don't disappoint me. Destroy the message afterwards. Don't let anyone find out I contacted you or, you know, flobberworm.
- Minerva McGonagall, not Headmistress anymore, thank Merlin, I'm so done with the lot of you
"What in the bloody fuck-?" exclaimed one Sirius Black, freshly made Headmaster and only partially sane as he finished reading the overly threatening and criptic message of his former boss that he'd just found on his pillow. His room was locked. And warded. And booby-trapped to hell and back.
"What the-?" he repeated once more, just for emphasis. "Did she seriously-?"
He blinked owlishly at the small shred of paper, that, after he turned it around in the desperate search of more information, turned out to be a highly important and secret document about the safekeeping of Hogwarts. Being Headmaster, he decided, oficially made you go batshit insane. There was no way around it.
Where even was she right now? Didn't the Aurors say that letters didn't reach her anymore? Crazy old woman, he thought more or less fondly but with a healthy dose of fear. He wasn't even sure if she was still in the country. If she wasn't, she was at least far away enough for him to be safe if he screwed up big time.
Because, right, he was Headmaster, now. With responsibility and all. Maybe he could run away, too, like Minnie did. He wasn't mad at her for it, seeing he was Headmaster for about thirteen hours and was already done and through with it.
He groaned as he cast an incendio on the paper, as she'd demanded it. And what was he supposed to do now, anyway? He had no idea what he was supposed to do. Snape had told him to chat with the journalists hounding for a scandal, and so he had done the next best thing to that, meaning he'd ran away to hide in his chambers.
There were two Headmasters now, which meant that he could continue like normal, while Snape did the whole paperwork, right? But, that also meant letting the vile bat take the power and control over the eduction, which no. Just. No.
He let out a sound that pretty universally indicated distress and flopped onto his bed. He couldn't let Snivi-Snape be Headmaster, but on the other hand, work! Urgh. The Hogwarts magic was at least as nuts as its master(s), that was for sure.
Reluctantly - and very slowly - he stood up to go and join Lord Dark And Creepy at whatever he was doing, because everyone could use a bit of Sirius Black in such tense times, and also because he was bored and supposed to grade papers.
He found Greasy and Brooding in the Headmaster(s)'s office, obviously, and it was most certainly not only the sixteenth place he searched in. Snape was talking with a horde of what appeared to be ministry officials, one of the rare species Sirius was afraid of.
He snuck in behind the gaggle of chattering gee- people, and it struck him how weird it was to see Snooty Snape sitting at the Headmistress's desk. He actually looked kind of like he knew what he was doing if you squinted hard enough.
Sirius decided it would be best for him to leave, right now, but of course the bat noticed him and hissed like a kicked stray.
"Black!" the Greasy Git snarled through painfully clenched teeth. "How dare you run from your duties, you vile excuse of a human being, after I specifically told you what to do? You are now Heamaster if you want it or not, so you better start acting like it! Get to work."
Sirius leaned back against the wooden panels of the Headmaster(s)'s office, solely because he knew it would annoy Snape. "Well you're tense, ain't you got better to do than spout your niceties about me? And also I did plenty of work, thank you very much." The last part was a lie, and they both knew it.
Snivi-Snape looked at him through greasy strands of hair like he'd just fathered the Anti-Christ (very muggle, classy) and then turned back to his gaggle of ministry officials, obviously dismissing him. Which was why Sirius felt compelled to step forward, conjur a second chair and sit right next to him behind the big desk that had to have been overcompensation for something. And Sasuke (another muggle reference, he was really getting something out of that teaching position!) couldn't even complain, because he had every right.
The ministry goons, silent until now - intimidated by Sirius, certainly -, decided this meant this meeting or whatever was to go on and started blabbering again. But Snape did indeed look like he'd just bitten on a sourer lemon than usual, so Sirius took that as a win.
He quickly - meaning immediately - lost every interest in the conversation, if it could be called that, which it didn't, and was sharply brought back to attention by a bony (why was Snape so Merlindamn thin all the time?) elbow hitting him between the ribs.
"Ouch?!" he snapped at his fellow co-Headmaster who completely ignored him to go on and act interested in the nonsense the goons- uh, ministry officials, were spouting. Sirius felt entirely justified when he kicked Too-Cool-For-Emotions under the desk.
Snape then sent a a silent (and wandless!) stinging hex his way, to which Sirius sent a tickling charm, to which Severus answered with a petrificus totalus, which, wtf, man?
The ministry officials didn't even notice his- uh, 'condition' and blabbed on. Was this seriously how it was going to be, now? Actually, seriously, honestly that? Sirius already hated every second of it.
He'd been Headmaster for not even a day and was already petrificus totalus'ed on his new (quite ugly) Headmaster's chair and had now not only to suffer through a 'meeting' (unofficial name: torture session) but also the Vile Prick's presence. Merlin how he hated this. He wanted out. Preferably yesterday, thankyouverymuch.
.o0o.
Dear Minnie,
so, you, uhm, asked me to write you a letter? Every week. So, uh, here's the first one, because it's Sunday again and a week passed. I've never written an important letter - let alone an official one - in my life, and I think you've noticed by now. Mostly because I was put in prison. Without trial, I'd like to add and, uh- yeah.
Kind of awkward, I know, but this is the twenty-second try and I'm seriously (haha, pun) done with this -shi-.
So, uh, nothing really happened this week, kind of, except I had to go to a -shit- ton of meetings and they’re honestly -fuc- annoying. I'm so not mad you ran, except now I have to do your work so I'm still slightly -pissed- annoyed but whatever.
Anyway, did you know there was a very specific number of torches allowed in one corridor, because else the magical drain of keeping the fires going without any combustion happening or heat or smoke emitting is too big? I didn't. I wish I still didn't, too, but -the Grea- Snape bound me to a chair after winning our impromptu duel by cheating and I had to listen to the monotone prattling of one person or another. He used chloroform.- the asshole.-Honestly, I hate him so fucking much it's-
We're also down two teachers, because, well, me and -the- Snape aren't teachers anymore, but we're looking for new ones. Merlin, it feels so weird that that concerns me in any way. Like, it's my job, right now, to find new teachers. How weird is that? It's stupid. I'm totally making Snape do all of that 'paperwork' or whatever he calls it.
(He didn't, at all, in the slightest, ban me from doing it after I fed large amounts of the paper to the Giant Squid. It's not my fault he really likes the taste of important papers! I'm almost tempted to actually do it just to spite him, but even I don't hate him enough for that.)
We - meaning I, because I'm actually so much smarter than him - thought about keeping me as a muggle studies professor, because their really hard to find and also because, and I quote, "It's the only thing your small, rotting birdbrain is capable of". I did kick him in the nuts for it, but then the journalists start talking about domestic violence and I had to publicly apologize. -Fucki- Idiots.
I have to wake up at six thirty now, and I hate it so much. I've also had to speak to so many journalists (that's what they call themselves, I like to call them jokes of human beings) I think they’re coming out of my ears and I almost jinxed one (bat-bogey hex, you know it? Works wonders).
Yeah, and we're kind of messing things up, me and Snape, and I think he is so neck deep it documents he lost a flurry of it and I just believe that he deserves it for being a prick (and I’ll keep that in the final draft if it kills me).
I also had to double everything that was meant for the Headmaster, like chairs (so many chairs I had to conjur, I'm going mad!!! They're now all diamond encrusted, I think, and I'm not even doing it on purpose) robes, desks and else.
Yeah, I can feel the madness coming, and it's coming fast.
This letter is already longer than anything I've ever wrote, so, I think I'll end it here. How are you? Doing good? Can I know where you are? Scratch that, I don't want to know.
Greetings,
Sirius Black.
(I had Remus proofread this and he agreed that it was quite okay and that I did a good job. The imperius I cast on him for it wasn't even that strong. I'm proud of myself.)
Good grief, Minerva thought as she let the letter drop to the ground. Hogwarts would burn! It would actually burn! She'd never thought she would doubt the magic one day, but here she was.
Well, on the good side of things: this didn't concern her anymore in the least and she could laugh about it if Britain went up in flames. Mostly. Because it was still somewhat her home. But she would yet get rid of that feeling in one way or another, so it was alright.
She bent over to pick Sirius's letter up and stored it away into a box she'd bought for that purpose, after writing down date and name on the envelope. Then, she picked up the second letter that an owl had dropped off this morning. It was from Severus.
With a flick of her wand the second envelope neatly opened and she pried out the letter. The handwriting was so much cleaner than Sirius's, to which she sighed a sigh of relief, but it was also about twice as long, to which she groaned loudly. Severus, she knew, was petty enough to have written down, in detail, what had happened in every single Merlindarn meeting he'd had to attend, while passive aggressively shaming her to her early-ish grave.
She lowered her gaze and began to read.