Summary: Outtake set soon after Chapter 7 of Harry Potter and the Arcana. The Hogwarts professors gather in the headmaster's office after the first couple of weeks of classes to discuss their students…and they are understandably reluctant to discuss one Harry James Potter. Honestly, I don't blame them. Don't take this too seriously, I didn't.

Disclaimer: I would think it would be obvious by now.

AN: 1. If you're reading this and you haven't read what I've written so far in Harry Potter and the Arcana, it should still be alright – know that, however, my Harry is neither the mini Dark Lord you'll find in some stories, nor is he the quintessential humble Gryffindor that he is in cannon – he's a uniquely precocious Ravenclaw (with possible psychopathic tendencies…) who, in his years before Hogwarts, spent his time listening to Led Zeppelin, researching in the library, and blackmailing Dudley.
2. The character of Professor Dumbledore is slightly exaggerated/caricatured (*cough*oblivious*cough*). This isn't necessarily how I intend to characterize him for the rest of Harry Potter and the Arcana, it is purely for the purpose of humour. On that note, this is supposed to be funny – but I'm really sick right now, and nothing is funny to me, so…
3. You may be wondering why this isn't just Chapter 8 of Harry Potter and the Arcana. The reason for this is quite simple – I am a mathematics student, and I love consistency. Harry Potter and the Arcana is written in the third person, but it is also Harry's POV through the whole thing. As Harry is not present at the staff meeting (well, he shouldn't be, anyway), this cannot be narrated in the same style as Harry Potter and the Arcana, and thus is a separate endeavour on my part.

Outtake: Hogwarts Staff Meeting

Tick, tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tick, tick, tock, tock, tick, CHIME!

The irregular tapping sound of the grandfather clock in the Headmaster's office gave way to a bright metallic clamour, which signified the beginning of a new hour, startling some of the paintings on the cluttered wall out of their slumber.

"Now, now, settle down everyone, it's about time we got started," Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore called warmly over the chatter of the Hogwarts professors. Once they had all quieted, he sat down behind the chaotically furnished desk in his office, smiling at them all. "Welcome, all of you, to our first staff meeting of the 1991 to 1992 school year. I trust there have been no outstanding problems so far?"

There was a collective head shake – that was always a good sign.

"Ah, splendid, splendid, and how are the first years this year, are there any interesting additions?"

There was a slight hesitation, before Minerva McGonagall spoke up, "One of mine, Hermione Granger, a muggleborn girl, shows great promise. She has been very diligent in class, even assisting the other students."

Behind her, Professor Pomona Sprout spoke up eagerly, "Her friend, young Neville Longbottom shows an affinity for Herbology; the boy loves plants, and the plants love him."

Minerva smiled softly at her. "Mr. Longbottom has a gentle heart, I am glad to hear that he is already on his way to finding his passion…"

"Indeed," said Filius Flitwick, "I saw him helping Ms. Granger with a Herbology project in the library, just the other day. Many of my Ravenclaws are showing great promise as well. Anthony Goldstein, in particular, is very industrious – I cannot help but wonder if he may be prefect material one day…what about the Slytherins? Anyone interesting in that batch this year?"

All eyes turned to the Slytherin Head of House, who didn't respond, seemingly quite preoccupied - wait, was that his bottom lip sticking out in a pout? Of course not...

"I have heard a Mr. Malfoy shows some talent at potions," Minerva said musingly, glancing over to the expressionless young professor, Severus Snape. "The boy has shown some hostility, however, toward one of my Gryffindors, Ronald Weasley. I cannot help but wonder if this will erupt into something later on in the year, what with the behaviour his older brothers exhibit."

Several of the professors grimaced at this.

But the Headmaster only smiled fondly. "Ah, youth, what beautiful thing. Now, what about our young Mr. Potter? Is he getting on well with all his classmates and teachers? A Ravenclaw, must be such a well-mannered, studious boy."

All of the professors stiffened, hesitating prominently; in fact, it could have been said that a countenance similar to that of pained reminiscence crept onto their faces.

The Headmaster looked between them all curiously, his gaze coming to rest on the Transfiguration professor. "What are your thoughts, Minerva?"

For perhaps the first time in her career, Minerva McGonagall had a look on her face which could be described as resembling a 'deer caught in headlights.' Why did she have to go first? Schooling her expression, however, she responded cautiously, "Well, Albus, Mr. Potter is certainly…eager to learn, but I cannot help but question whether leaving him with those muggles was…wise. He seems have developed some…unusual perspectives." A natural ability to cause chaos, and an intrinsic tendency toward violence, that is.

"Ah, a creative one, then!" the Headmaster exclaimed enthusiastically.

"Indeed," Filius Flitwick piped up, "The boy is a curious one, even more precocious than his mother was. Bursting with questions, that one! Already, he exhibits a deep understanding of charm theory, and has expressed an interest in spell-crafting! Though, some of his ideas for new spells are unorthodox…" Which means potentially illegal and sadistically brilliant. "You know, Albus, you should really invite the boy for tea, sometime, and discuss alternate uses of cleaning charms with him!"

McGonagall shot him a frantic glare.

"Thank you, Filius, I think I will," said the Headmaster thoughtfully.

"I'm sure he would greatly enjoy that, Albus. Mr. Potter is always eager to share his ideas, and very much enjoys seeing others' reactions to them." Especially the more horrified ones.

"And he's an excellent flier," Madame Hooch put in. But he seems to believe that it is acceptable to experiment on a broom. "In fact, he has made me entirely rethink how we teach flying to the first years..."

The Headmaster beamed. "Wonderful, wonderful indeed."

"He shows a lack of…discretion, at times," began Pomona Sprout, mentally debating on how to describe the boy without making her opinion that he needed counseling glaringly obvious, "But he seems to know a great deal about muggle plants…and is always eager to share his knowledge…" No matter how inappropriate it is.

"Really!" exclaimed Dumbledore, before turning to the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, "And how is he in your subject, Quirinus?"

The timid professor jumped. "Wh-what w-w-was th-that?" he squeaked.

"Mr. Potter, Quirinus, how is he in your class?"

The man went deathly pale, as he stuttered, "M-Mr. P-P-Potter?"

"Yes, Quirinus."

The man promptly fainted.

The Headmaster blinked. "Oh my. I wonder if he's alright."

Minerva shook her head sadly. "I'm really not sure that he is."

Filius chuckled softly, and Pomona rose from her seat to hover over the fainted man, carefully casting an enervate charm and holding him whilst he snapped awake.

"Alright there, Quirinus my boy?" the headmaster asked concernedly.

"O-oh yes, q-q-quite alright, P-professor. N-now, w-what were we d-d-discussing?"

The headmaster beamed. "Mr. Potter's progress in your class."

The man promptly fainted…again. Meanwhile, Voldemort was hard pressed to keep from cackling on the back of his head. If only the Headmaster knew that Harry Potter was easily the Dark Lord's favourite student.

Not bothering to wake the man again, Pomona simply plopped a pillow between his head and the chair, trying to keep him comfortable, whilst the oblivious elderly man continued his interrogation.

"And what are your thoughts, Severus, my boy?" the Headmaster said softly, yet eagerly, turning all attentions to Snape.

The man was silent for a moment, a grimace starting to overtake his carefully expressionless face. "The boy would have done well in Slytherin," he finally mumbled sulkily.

One could have heard a pin drop.

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