She usually dreads this time of year, but on this occasion, she's dreading it especially. On top of the usual antics that she's sure to get from the students who think they're smart and original, Dolores Umbridge is sitting in on her discussions, which she really doesn't like.

Umbridge had been one of Minerva's first students, years ago. Minerva had disliked her. Nice to know that some things never change.

There's a knock on the door; Minerva groans internally and lets her in. "Welcome, Dolores," she says, and she lets the icy tone communicate how she feels. She hopes for that moment that her students will behave. Merlin knows that they don't need more students getting detentions.

"Minerva," says Umbridge, then produces a phenomenally artificial smile. "A pleasure, as always."

"You can sit in the back," says Minerva. "I prefer to have these conversations one-on-one. I hope you'll understand."

"Of course," says Umbridge. She doesn't bother to hide her dislike, which is fair, because neither does Minerva.

Her first is Lavender Brown, who notices Umbridge immediately and stops in the doorframe.

"Professor Umbridge has insisted that she observe these interviews and offer her own input," says Minerva. "Have a seat. What were you considering?"

"I thought," says Lavender, and glances at Umbridge.

"Pretend she isn't here," advises Minerva. "I'll do so too."

Umbridge makes a delicate cough; Minerva ignores it.

"I thought maybe I'd work in manufacturing," says Lavender, her voice small. "My Charms are good—"

"Don't discredit yourself, Miss Brown, your Charmwork is excellent."

"—and I can sort of Transfigure well enough," she finishes, and glances down at her lap. "I thought maybe I could work with robe manufacturing or jewelry."

Umbridge makes a loud, audible sniff; Minerva talks over it. "An excellent choice, for your skillset- you are very æsthetically inclined, I've noticed. You'll need to find references if you intend to make more than a living wage, of course—"

"I hardly think fashion—" says Umbridge, foregoing the sniffing.

"And I will fully support you," finishes Minerva. "It is, frankly, an industry that could use some bolstering."

She nods her head towards Umbridge in the corner as Umbridge is scribbling on her clipboard and not looking; Lavender's eyebrows shoot up and she smiles.

"Something cool," she repeats, unsure whether to laugh or not.

"Yeah," says Seamus Finnigan, who is fidgeting restlessly in the chair. "Like, a Quidditch player or something."

Minerva bites back her sigh— he hadn't even made the Gryffindor team— and says tactfully, "Quidditch is a very difficult path to follow, Mr. Finnigan. Is there anything else that's sufficiently 'cool'?"

He shrugs, which she'd expected. Minerva has held enough of these meetings over the last fifty years to expect which of her students will give her little beyond shrugs. "Maybe a Curse Breaker. Or I could, I dunno, dragon wrangle or something—"

"Is there anything that's cool but sensible?" Minerva asks. Umbridge hem hems approvingly. Minerva wrinkles her nose in distaste.

He shrugs again.

Even before he is out of the door, she hears Dean Thomas's voice, asking how was it.

"Shite, of course," says Seamus, probably unaware that Minerva can hear him, and then the door swings shut. Minerva chances a look at Umbridge and has to turn around again— Umbridge is clearly scandalised. She hasn't worked at Hogwarts long enough, if this sort of thing shocks her.

There's always that student, muses Minerva. Always. She'd given him a few pamphlets to look over; she suspects they'll be in a rubbish bin within the hour.

She has been looking forward to her meeting with Hermione Granger most of all, really, and the girl is perfectly on time, arriving with frizzy hair in all directions and stopping short when she sees Umbridge.

"Professor Umbridge has requested to offer feedback to these interviews," says Minerva.

Hermione raises her eyebrows, and Minerva watches as a small host of emotions flicker over her face- confusion, annoyance, a dawning idea, determination, then a small smirk when she finally sits down, one hand flattening her hair down on top of her head when it fluffs up with the motion.

"So, Miss Granger, what do you want to do?" she asks, and hands Hermione her biscuit tin. Hermione smiles and flattens her hands on her knees.

"Well, professor, I've been considering going into Magical Law," she says. "There's a lot of changes that I think ought to be made, especially in legislation pertaining to marginalised groups."

"An excellent thought, Miss Granger," says Minerva, "and well-suited to your interests and strengths."

"Oh," says Hermione, and smiles. "I'd like to draft legislation for house elf liberation, or at least consult with house elves to set up a good system for wages and working conditions. And I want to put an end to house elf mistreatment."

"Naturally," says Minerva, over Umbridge's hem hem. "A fitting plan, Miss Granger. I wish you luck."

Hermione smiles, and adds innocently, "I also want to get rid of discriminatory treatment towards werewolves, centaurs, and merpeople."

"Hem hem," says Umbridge, at a startling volume.

"Wonderful," says Minerva. "Good luck, Miss Granger!"

"I really wish you wouldn't encourage these children," says Umbridge, falsely sweet. "It's only going to end poorly, after all."

"If you say so," says Minerva. "Frankly, I think it's brilliant that Miss Granger intends to make changes in the Ministry. Merlin knows it's been too long this way."

Umbridge's eyebrows shoot up, and she goes back to her clipboard.

"I, er, thought," says Neville Longbottom. "Maybe something in Herbology. It's the only thing I'm not rubbish at."

"I've always thought you could achieve much more with a little confidence, Mr. Longbottom," says Minerva. "But I agree, definitely, that a career in Herbology in particular is very well suited for you. Have you considered work in an apothecary?"

"I wanted to go more into raising plants," he says, sheepish, and Minerva nods.

"Apothecaries are often in need of suppliers," she notes. "Especially since most people choose not to follow careers in Herbology."

Neville nods and shifts awkwardly in his chair.

"Otherwise," she adds, and smiles carefully at him, "Eventually, Professor Sprout will retire, and if you're knowledgeable enough to step up…"

"Maybe, professor," says Neville.

Parvati Patil shows up a moment later than on time, but Minerva and Parvati both ignore it, while Umbridge in the back sniffs with distaste and scribbles something down. "Have a seat," says Minerva. "Do you have any plans or ideas for what to do after Hogwarts?"

"I sort of wanted to go into magical production," says Parvati. "Making Charmed things, you know, for children. Toys and the like."

"Oh, an interesting choice," says Minerva, who is surprised by it.

"I don't know that my Charms are really good enough though," says Parvati, and shrugs. "Otherwise, you know, there's always retail."

"I'd avoid that," says Minerva.

Her meeting with Harry Potter doesn't go quite well. She has to shoo him out of her office.

"I'll be writing to Cornelius," spits Umbridge, who is standing as tall as she can (not very tall at all) and positively fuming. Minerva almost wouldn't be surprised if she'd started smoking from the ears. "About these treasonous thoughts."

"They are not treasonous, Dolores," says Minerva, who is more concerned for her time schedule, since she still needs to see Dean Thomas and Ron Weasley today, and Dean is waiting outside while Umbridge drones on. "It was an observation that, like most things in the world, Ministers of Magic aren't any more or less permanent than anything. You may very well not be a professor next year."

She's pushing it with that one, but she takes a note of satisfaction in the way Umbridge swells indignantly. "That kind of talk- I won't have it, Minerva- I daresay it could be you who isn't a professor next year, if you continue this way-"

"I imagine I'll deal with that if it happens," says Minerva. "If you'd excuse me, Dolores, I have two more students who need to conference with me, and I am still a professor right now."

Umbridge looks indignant. Minerva opens the door to let Dean Thomas in; he gives Umbridge a positively vicious stare when he notices her, but Umbridge doesn't notice.

"So what were you looking into?" Minerva asks.

"I kind of wanted to be an artist or something," he says, and she raises her eyebrows.

"Interesting," she says.

"A career in art is hardly-"

"It will be difficult," she says.

"I'm okay with that."

Ron Weasley is last, and Minerva makes a note to ask Pomona and Filius if they'd like to go for a drink tonight. Merlin knows they could all probably use it. Umbridge sat in on Filius's conferences this morning and Pomona's yesterday, and Minerva's seen enough cheek from some of theirs to guess that they've had similar experiences.

She can't let herself be distracted by looking forward to it, though, and so she lets him in and he sits and she asks what he wants to do.

"I didn't really have any ideas," admits Ron, then glances at Umbridge, who is smugly scribbling that down. "I don't think I'd want to work with the Ministry. Being an Auror might be cool, but, really, you have to be the best of the best to do that."

"Then what do you want?" asks Minerva. "Can I interest you in some pamphlets?"

"If you want," says Ron, and flips through them. "Thing is, all the jobs look so boring."

"I'm sure there's a profession that will interest you," says Minerva.

"Singing?" suggests Ron.

"If you're a decent—"

"Oh, no, I'm rubbish," he says. "Might be able to get people to pay me for not singing."

Minerva cracks a smile at that.

"The funniest was Michael Corner," says Filius, and shakes his head. "Said he wanted to be a model. An adult model. A pornographic model."

"Goodness," says Pomona. "How did she like that?"

"She called him vulgar and gave him detention," says Filius. "He didn't seem bothered, oddly." He takes a long sip of cordial.

"Oh, dear," says Minerva. She's taught Corner for five years. She's acquainted with the nature of the jokes that he and Terry Boot swap when they think she's not listening.

"My favorite was Susan Bones," says Pomona. "She said she might go into the Ministry, since she wouldn't need anything other than connections to get the job, and she's got those already!"

Filius covers his mouth with his hand and smothers a giggle. Dolores famously dislikes Amelia Bones. "How many Quidditch players did you get, Pomona?"

"Just one," she says.

"None of mine," says Filius.

"One," says Minerva. Out of pity for him, she does not say who.

"They're getting more sensible," says Filius.

Minerva smiles and thinks about her students. Her ridiculous, wonderful, ridiculous students. "Oh, I doubt it."