He grinned before heading to the nearest staircase, taking the steps two at a time. His eyes roved over the paintings as he turned into a hallway bathed in a green-gold light from where the sun filtered in through the moss and ivy that climbed the walls. The old men and women that populated the paintings eyed him carefully over their pince-nez and spectacles, peeking from around towers of heavy looking tomes. He was just about to head to her painting when—

"Lee? What are you doing here?"

Bollocks.

"Lee?"

He fought back a grimace before he turned, hitching on a bright smile, to face the Divinations professor. "Lavender! Funny running into you here!"

She put her hands on her hips, setting all of her bangles and bracelets to jingling. "Not really; I work here."

Lee glanced around, a look of innocent confusion of his face. "Not here, certainly. This is the fourth floor, the History Wing." He let the silence fill the space for a moment before he said, "I'd think this would be too dismal for you. Not the right perch to get that connection one needs for divination."

Lavender's mien shifted from suspicious to pleased. Clearly she was missing the indignant mumbles and hissing whispers by the famous historians and philosophers that lined the walls.

"You feel that too? Honestly, so many people just don't understand how subtle things in the environment can really affect the inner eye."

"Well, I guess people generally aren't as perceptive as me," he said with a goofy grin that hid the fact that his brain was whirring at top speed to think of a new plan.

"So what are you doing here, Lee?" Lavender asked, taking a few steps forward, wrapping one of her long blonde curls around her index finger as she smiled at him a little too intensely to be just friendly.

His first impulse was to grimace, but then the idea struck. He could use this. He would feel like he needed to take a scalding shower after this, but he could definitely use this. He set his hand on the stone wall, leaned slightly, and hitched on his most charming smile. "I was doing research for my show on the start of the new year. Care to help me out, Lav?" He winked.

Lavender's cheeks turned pink and she let out one of her patented, grating girlish giggles. "What did you have in mind?"

Get rid of her. Get rid of her. Get rid of her. "Would you be able to tell me about your experiences and impressions of the new staff, especially the new Headmaster? I mean, you're so good at reading people." More like reading and spreading gossip. "Your insight would be invaluable to us at RiverWatch." He smiled his most winning smile, knowing it would highlight his dimples, which girls always seemed to love.

It was like someone had shown her the Grim in a kid's teacup. "Oh, I'd love to! Are you free now?"

Without waiting for an answer, she clutched his arm and started dragging him down the hall to the nearest staircase. He continued for a few paces before stopping, tugging his arm carefully out of her vividly purple-manicured grip.

"Oh drat – I just remembered I promised to stop by and see Longbottom before his class ended. Had a plant he wanted to show me. Could you be a dear and just write it for me? I'll make sure to read from it on air." He took a few small steps backwards down the hall.

"Oh," Lavender pouted. "Well, I suppose so. I was hoping we could go to my office. Maybe have a cup of tea?"

She did not mean just "tea;" Lee could see that.

"Oh, you temptress!" he said, clicking his tongue in a what a shame way. "I wish I could, Lav, but I've got to see Neville and then stop by the new Headmaster's headquarters. But honestly, thank you so much for writing that bit up for me."

She looked a little put out, but recovered quickly and gave him a simpering smile. "It's no problem, really. I'll write that up this evening and send it to you."

"Thanks so much. You're an angel!" he said, beaming at her before giving a wave and heading back down the hall and around the corner. He waited for the sound of her jingling jewelry and clicking heels to fade out before he hurried back out to the portrait. Garius Tomkink peered down at him over his spectacles as he scratched at his temple with the tip of his wand.

"What do you want, sonny-jim?"

"Bathilda."

"You want who?" the wizened old historian asked, his voice surprisingly deep from such a frail, stooped man.

"It's the password. To get in." They stared at each other for a moment. Lee sighed. "I want entrance into the office."

"Does the young lady know you are going in?"

"It's sort of a surprise? So if be grateful if you didn't mention it to—"

"What year did the gargoyles go on non-unionized strike in Britain?"

"Pardon?" asked Lee, utterly thrown.

"What year? You need to know your history if you want me to do you a favor, sonny-jim." Tomkink smirked. Seemed the old coot was far sharper than he let on.

"Errr..." How the hell was he supposed to know this? The twins and he had always used History of Magic for brainstorming new products. He wracked his brains for a possible answer. Hermione's words earlier drifted back to him, rather fortuitously. "Nineteen-eleven?" he guessed.

Tomkink winked at Lee before swinging forward to reveal an oval opening that led to the History of Magic professor's private office. He gave the room a cursory glance, wondering where he should start his research into the mind and inner workings of Hermione. His fingertips trailed along the spines on her bookshelves, mostly belonging to different magical history books. Here and there, however, he found unexpected things – muggle mystery books; biographies and memoirs of people long dead; fairy tale books – magical and muggle alike. He examined the photos that rested atop the fireplace; some with her parents on vacations, some with her best friends, and one in the center with McGonagall, in which both women were, surprisingly, beaming. He continued on his search.

There were cabinets, full of paperwork presumably, and papers littering her desk. There was a tack board behind her desk on which notes had been edited and annotated in different colors. As he moved closer, he saw that they were all pages of history books, carefully cut out from their book and filled with Hermione's tidy, looping handwriting. He glanced at one of the pages that had a lot of red on it. It was a page out of Hogwarts: A History on the Chamber of Secrets.

Filled with snake sculptures and a huge bust of himself, the mouth of which lowered to reveal the basilisk - defeated in 1993 - all can be a visual testament to the grandiose nature of Salazar Slytherin and his pride in his ability to speak and understand Parseltongue.

He chuckled. And then it hit him, glancing at some of the other main pages ripped out - the TriWizard Tournament, the Great Lake, the Shrieking Shack, Hogsmeade - she was pulling out pieces of Hogwarts: A History and was working on updating it. He hummed appreciatively to himself. He had to give her credit; she was nothing if not resourceful. What better way to use all of hers and Harry's and Ron's adventures throughout the years. She was setting herself up to be the next Bathilda Bagshot. Well, minus the possession by Voldemort bit. He was just leaning into read her notes on the story behind the Grey Lady when he heard voices approaching.

"—and it's just been hell to find, Professor. You would think there would be more books on 1602 Banshee Trials, but the school library doesn't even carry it."

"Actually, I have that in my office. I'll loan you the book, Mr. McMurray. I really think you'll find it helpful for your essay," said Hermione, her voice slowly growing louder with her approach.

Lee panicked. You couldn't apparate on the grounds, and he could never get away with hiding. He looked around desperately. The fire! He rushed over, took a pinch of the fine powder from the crystal dish on the mantle, and threw it. Emerald flames burst into life.

Thinking quickly, Lee hissed, "Herbology Office!" and nearly threw himself into the flames. He could see as he whizzed away the flames disappearing, which was a lucky thing because right then, Hermione was putting her foot through the doorway.

She looked around. She could smell fire and that ozone scent of floo powder always left behind. Momentarily disregarding it, she searched her shelves until her fingers ran along the spine of Brougham v. Banshee by Shira Banning.

"Here you are, McMurray. Just give it back to me one you've finished your essay. And be careful with the pages; its a very old copy and rips easily."

The seventh year Slytherin nodded his thanks and, with a small smile twisting his thin lips, headed out of her office. She followed him out, pleased to see that the industrious boy had already pulled out his reading glasses and cracked open the book. She turned to her portrait guardian, who was examining a book another painting had handed him.

"Garius, do you know if my fire has been used while I was gone? Was someone here?"

It took Garius a moment to look up at her. "Hmm? Oh, someone left using your floo." He went back to reading; she had been dismissed.

She smiled at him and headed back in. A teacher probably had come looking for her and, when they found the empty room, had left. She shrugged and sat at her desk, pulling a stack of papers towards her and starting to grade.

.

.

.

"BLOODY HELL!" was the shout that accompanied Lee's tumbling out of the Herbology Office's fireplace. Lee stuck his hands out just in time to save his face from smacking the stone floor. He closed his eyes and panted, trying to catch his breath.

"What in the name of Merlin, Lee? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" Hurried footsteps neared and stopped by his head.

Lee rolled over and looked up at a flushed-faced Neville Longbottom. "Hey there, Neville," he said casually before starting to pick himself up. "Would you believe I was running from Lavender?"

Neville tried to give Lee an admonishing look, but was failing spectacularly.

"I ducked into a professor's office, and your office was the first place I had thought of."

"Lucky me," Neville said with a chuckle. "So what brings you to Hogwarts today?" He headed back behind his desk and gestured for Lee to take the seat across from him. At Lee's questioning look, he added, "It's my planning period."

"Well, I'm trying to get the scoop on how things are going with the new Headmaster so far. There's been a lot of changes in these past couple of years, and I want to do a special on how things are going. You know, from the inside."

"So you're snooping?" Neville said.

"Us reporters prefer the term 'investigating', thank you," replied Lee haughtily, making Neville grin.

Neville relaxed back into his chair, interweaving his fingers while he thought. It was nice to see Neville so well adjusted and calm, such a departure from the nervous and flustered boy he had been at school. The War had brought out a soldier in him, and he had emerged lean, steady, and determined.

"Soooo," he said, staring out into space as he tried to list everything out, "Hermione and I came on right after the rebuild, so that was six years ago. Blaise came on the year after that – it took Hermione's convincing a while to win him over. McGonagall was Head for all of that; unanimous vote for her appointment, obviously."

The bright blue Verbatim Veritas – Quick Quotes Quill had expanded their line to include quills that took down notes word-for-word, marketed for students and non-corrupt journalists – that Lee had set up on some parchment when he sat down was whizzing across the page. It halted and let Lee roll up the parchment to make room for more writing before it set off again.

"So that was five years ago...hmm...oh, then there was that huge recruitment year when all the professors who stayed to bring the school back all retired! Lavender came on to replace Trelawney and Padma replaced that Greek chap that came on after the War as a favor to Flitwick because no one wanted to take the Defense Against the Dark Arts class—"

"Naturally," muttered Lee. Once the story of no one lasting more than a year because of Voldemort had leaked, no one had applied for the job, even though Voldemort was dead.

"Naturally," Neville sighed. "And that's when McGonagall gave up teaching - honestly, we were amazed she kept doing it while Headmaster –and Hartwicke Cleaves came on."

"How long did it take for him and Lavender to...you know? Off the record, obviously." He grinned evilly.

"Why in the world would I know or care about these things?" demanded Neville. "But off the record," he said quietly, "Padma told me it was within the first three months. And imploded in less than that." The two men laughed. "But back to the interview! That's also when Shay came on for Flitwick."

"Shay?"

"You know Shay, don't you? Charlemagne Chesterfield is his full name."

"I'd go by 'Shay' too, with a name like that," muttered Lee. "Wait! He's that French bloke, right?"

"Yeah. Nice guy. Head of Hufflepuff. Anyways, it's been pretty quiet since then, until Pannychis came on. And Hannah is working with Madame Pomfrey and is set to take over next year if all goes to plan. Poppy has finally decided to retire. – Hannah would undoubtedly tell me to say 'hello' from her, by the way. – But Pannychis seems all right. Very...enthused."

Lee smirked at Neville's underwhelmed expression. "And you're obviously not."

"He's very into these American 'team-building' exercises and 'pep-rallies' and the like. We have bi-monthly meetings because he wants to be involved with the staff and students."

"Sounds like he's forgotten how to keep that British upper lip stiff," Lee joked, to which Neville vigorously nodded. Lee's quill was just adding a period to Lee's last comment when the bells tolled, signaling the end of the period.

"Well, hope I've been of help," said Neville as he stood up, "but I'm off to go teach from fourth years. It's always fun to see them get unnerved by the bubotubers."

They shook hands but before Lee could let go, Neville leaned in conspiratorially. "Oh, and you can use the fire to get home too, if you'd like."

Lee grinned and rolled his eyes. He clapped Neville on the back and headed to the fireplace. He had a report to work on.