Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author's note: this is more of an interlude.

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Sybill glowered at the wretches in front of her.

These untalented, unwashed, gibbering creatures were fouling up the very air she breathed. Sometimes she couldn't believe that she, a descendant of the great Cassandra Treelawney, was forced into this servitude. Teaching. It was a waste. A waste of her talents. A waste of her time. And, most of all, a waste of her spiritual energy. How was she to follow in her ancestor's footsteps if she was forever stuck in this horrid tower, dealing with these horrid pimple-ridden children?

How she loathed them.

For years, the only way she managed to make it through the day was a regular dash of Ogden's finest in her teacup.

And now that was taken away from her.

She glared at her third year class. Who was it? Who dared to tattle, to complain about their betters?

She glanced at the gossiping insipid miss in the front row and moved on. Most of boys wouldn't have bothered. She knew that they just made crap for their weekly assignments, but it was probably the only fun she had at this blasted job. Well. Almost.

She continued to search for the one when she found her. Edhill or something wouldn't look at her in the eyes. No, in fact she wasn't looking anywhere near Sybill. That's the one.

Taming her lips from curling into a cruel smile. Sybill glided toward the girl, grabbing her tea cup.

"Oh dear," she tutted. "Oh dear, oh dear. You had better watch your step my dear. I see bad, bad things before you. Bad indeed."

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Minerva closed the door to her office with a relieved sigh, leaning back on it a moment before making her way to her desk.

It had been one of those days.

One in which she gave serious thought to retiring.

They never used to happen often. But ever since young Mr. Potter came to the school they were a regular thing. She didn't blame the boy. How could you blame a boy for a troll getting into the school? Or having a mass murderer after him? You couldn't. In fact, most of the bad days had absolutely nothing to do with the boy. They just seemed much more frequent since he came to the school. Or at least, they seemed like it.

Today a couple of second year slytherins set off a number of pranks that would have made the Weasley proud. Which meant she had to go head to head with Severus Snape to ensure they were actually punished. In addition, she had some sort of trouble in every single one of her classes today. She hadn't taken that many points or assigned that many detentions in one day in years.

So. A bad day.

Minerva glanced to the old transfiguration text hiding her brandy. Or it did until recently.

Of course two old fools would go and bugger it up for everyone else.

She understood the new rules. They were perfectly logical. She even supported them to a degree.

Monitoring spells were placed within school wards directly to the nurse. A teacher could drink in their own private residences, but there could be not be any alcohol in their blood outside of them. Since sobering charms didn't remove the alcohol, just nullified their effects, those wouldn't work. The wards were fairly standard in some smaller schools. Since they would be going to the nurse and not the headmaster, intoxication would no longer be swept under the rug.

She understood why they were put in place. The students needed to feel safe. They needed professors who weren't utterly drunk. But the rules certainly had made her life just a little bit harder.

Minerva didn't often drink. That bottle of brandy would last her all year. But some days, like today, she really could use a stiff drink. Just one. Before dealing with irritating colleagues and needy children.

Unfortunately, she was scheduled to monitor the halls in an hour.

Sighing, she called for some tea. At least it was warm. That was something.

Maybe.

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Alastor smashed the empty bottle against his door.

He'd kill him. Kill him!

Every single bottle empty. Every single one.

Oh. He knew that it wasn't the boy who had gone through his things and emptied out every single alcoholic or opioid-based substance he owned. That was the nurse, supervised by the headmaster and that blasted coward, Severus Snape.

A condition to retain his employment they said.

Well, he'd been quite willing to allow them to kiss his crippled arse! He was here as a favor to Albus and to contribute to the war effort. He didn't need the money. Or the headache. Had Albus just let him take the boy away for training like he'd originally proposed, all of this could have been avoided.

Instead, in order to be able to perform his duty, he had allowed Albus to convince him to be treated like one of the many criminals he'd spent his life putting away.

Potter had done this. Degraded him. Humiliated him. Put conditions on the training regimen Alastor had designed to make the boy the weapon they needed for the war.

Alastor picked up another bottle to smash it against the wall.

He'd get his anger out tonight. So that tomorrow he could start to plan about getting even.

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Albus Dumbledore sat back in his desk, quite pleased with himself.

His staff were working marvellously together for the good of the students. Harry had accepted the new training plan. And even Poppy seemed to be thawing towards him.

If he'd known that the sobriety ward would be so important to his staff, he'd have put it up earlier. Oh he knew that Alastor and perhaps Sybill would need some time to get used to it, but they'd come along in the end. Alcohol was just another vice, after all. Another hurdle to get over.

Popping another candy in his mouth, he wondered if he should have the elves make certain chocolate was easily available to them. It helped with dementor attacks and he understood muggles who stopped smoking often ate copious amounts of it. Perhaps it would be good for someone who stops drinking?

Yes. He thought, eating another piece. Definitely make certain they had chocolate.

And perhaps some lemon drops too...