"... and I really can't understand these people! Sometimes I really ask myself what we teach and pray year after year what we'll get in the end, adults as irresponsible as that!" Minerva McGonagall said. The transfiguration teacher and deputy headmistress of Hogwarts sat on a chair in front of her superior's desk, her hand gripping the edges as if she were ready to jump, her back erected, all muscles tensed and her green cat eyes furious. "And you can't imagine what she told me as I got her to the floo. She said she'd noticed the boy had been 'bit feverish but because he's always prone to colds, she didn't think much of it.'"She shook her head. "Didn't think much of it ...," she repeated. "That could become her epitaph once: 'She never thought much of something.'"
"Minerva!" Albus reprimanded his deputy with a smile. "Mistress Phelps didn't commit a crime ..."
"Didn't she?" Minerva looked at him. "I'd say not looking after her boy and sending him back to us bacteria's mothership is almost a crime! Albus, we've got 22 cases of measles! The hospital wing is full, Poppy had to call in a healer from St. Mungos because she can't tend to so many patients, Hermione and Severus worked all night to brew enough pepper up and fever-sinking potions - and there's no end in sight! This morning we got three children morowinowing the symptoms and one of them isn't a Hufflepuff, but a Slytherin, Albus! That means the infection is spreading." She rang her hands. "What are we to do if more students become sick?"
"We'll do what we've always done before in such cases," Albus answered calmly. "We'll open the emergency ward over the information, we'll ask St. Mungos for more support and we stay calm. A measles infection in a school certainly isn't what one would wish for Christmas, but it isn't a catastrophe either, dear Minerva."
Minerva McGonagall obviously didn't agree. Shaking her head, she cried: "But Albus - what about our seven and fifth years? They are to do their exams in only a few weeks, they can't afford to miss classes! And we've already got two sick fifth years and one feverish seventh year. None of them is good enough to make it through the OWLs or the NEWTs without full time studies!"
Albus sighed. Taking up his glasses, he massaged his nose and said: "They will need a few private lessons then. But can't we handle that? It's only a question of organization and ...," he gave Minerva a charming smile, "...with you as the master of organizing sane schedules ..."
"Ssssst!" Something very small and glittering buzzed out of the fireplace and landed with a silver 'clink' in front of Albus on his desk.
Minerva jumped on her chair. "What's that?" she called.
Albus was already on his feet. "That's ...," he started. Then he waved his hand. "Never mind. Minerva, "where's Hermione?"" His question sounded very urgent.
Minerva looked at the watch on the mantelpiece. "11:20," she said. "Advanced potions for seventh years, all houses ..."
Albus stormed already up the stairs behind his desk. "Meet me in the dungeons!" He called, ran to the window and opened it. Pushing Hermione's ring over his little finger, he concentrated, changed into his animagus form and took flight, out of the main tower and with forceful strokes of his wings over the wings to the backside of the castle. There he closed his wings and, pressing them tightly to his body, let himself fall down, head forwards. Only a few inches over the ground he opened his wings again, using them for bracing down the fall, landing on his spread claws. Once again he changed, this time back into his human form, and sprinted to a little door in the wall. He didn't need his wand or a spell to open it - all doors leading out of the castle were enchanted to open automatically when the headmaster stood in front of them. Yet this wasn't quick enough for Albus' hurry - pushing through it he threw it out of his ankles and it landed with a loud 'bang' in the hall of the dungeons.
