In this issue. . .

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, eyes twinkling with suppressed humor, gazed over the top of his half-moon spectacles into the astonished face of Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall.

“But Albus,” she began, her voice heavy with shock. “Why Hogwarts? They will never agree, you know. These are some of the most admired and respected Wizards in our world.” She removed her hat, placed it on a corner of his desk, and sank into the wide-armed chair.

“Remus, Severus, Bill and the others will agree, Minerva.” Dumbledore stated matter-of-factly, his voice raspy with amusement. “They will agree or face the penalty; the possibility of dismissal from their positions in this school. The Board of Governors have already expressed their approval of this proposal.”

“In fact, this opportunity has been offered specifically because of Hogwarts’ prestigious reputation.” He continued. “I believe the Governors are hoping that such, uh, exposure will increase enrollment,” Dumbledore’s mouth stretched into a wide smirk at the intentional pun.

“Exposure? Enrollment? Do they realize what kind of publication this is?” Minerva choked on her laughter. Her eyebrows climbed so high up her forehead they nearly blended with her hair. “Albus, may I read the letter?”

His only response was to pass the sheet of heavily-embossed stationary into her eagerly awaiting hands. Minerva carefully opened the folded paper and looked immediately down to the looping signature scrawled across the bottom of the sheet. Her eyes widened.

“Please read it aloud, Minerva. Perhaps that will help you overcome the shock.” Dumbledore interrupted her.

“From Wands Unltd., 32 Diagon Alley, London.” Minerva began tentatively, her voice growing stronger, the amusement apparent in her tone. “Wands Unlimited?” Then she continued reading the letter:

“Dear Headmaster Dumbledore, Wands magazine, a monthly women’s publication, is a source of sensual entertainment for the modern witch. Each issue introduces the reader to steamy erotic fiction, feature articles and provocative photographs of the Wizarding World’s hottest celebrities. Our articles include advice columns where we answer your most intimate questions, host candid discussions on sex, politics, travel, fashion, diet, and fitness. Over the last several months, subscribers to our magazine have made requests for articles on a selection of men who are faculty members in your school. In an attempt to satisfy the desires of our readership, this periodical would like to do a feature spread, over several months, focusing on the “Men of Hogwarts. This will include photographs as well as brief interviews.”

Minerva quirked an eyebrow, the words ‘satisfy the desires’ had caught her attention. Then she finished reading aloud the letter.

“For your perusal, we have enclosed two copies of our latest issue. We trust that you will find they live up to our high standards and your even higher expectations. There is a list of suggested and requested models, along with a list of possible questions our interviewer may ask. Also enclosed, in this posting, are magically binding contracts and release forms that must be signed by all models. Please have them forwarded, to our office, immediately upon signing. If you have any questions concerning this project or our publication, please return them via owlpost to Wand magazine’s Art Director, Luna Lovegood. We look forward to working with you in the near future. Sincerely, Gilderoy Lockhart, Editor-In-Chief, Wands Magazine.”

Dumbledore pushed one of the indicated magazine copies across the desk, toward Minerva.

“Gilderoy Lockhart?” Minerva asked aghast. “Gilderoy ‘Who am I?’ Lockhart and Miss Lovegood? How is this possible, Albus?” She took the opportunity to examine one of the proffered magazines, eyes blinking quickly. The ‑­

cover photograph featured a young, blond, well-muscled Wizard, in his mid-20’s, wearing a Chudley Cannon’s wristband, and not much else. She supposed he could have been wearing socks, as the shot only showed him from the hips up.

As Minerva stared, the young Wizard walked back and forth across the cover. At various intervals, he would either cross his arms and stare back at her, or beckon her to open the pages with his wagging finger.

Overcome with curiosity she flipped open the pages. The brightly colored contents page featured the titles of a variety of articles. Her attention was immediately caught by an advertisement for ’Smooth Ride - Self Lubricating Brooms’. Minerva blushed hotly, but noted the advert indicated availability in four sizes.

“It seems, Minerva. that Gilderoy’s injury and subsequent memory loss was not as dire as was initially thought.” Dumbledore answered, unaffected by her wandering attention. “Do you remember that evening in the Chamber of Secrets, when he inadvertently struck himself with the charm intended for Ronald Weasley?”

Minerva nodded absently, half listening to the dialogue. She remembered vividly everything that occurred during the ‘Potter’ years. She had never worried about a student as much as she had Harry Potter. Looking back, she is sure that he, and by extension, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, was responsible for most of her gray hair.

The tenses seem awkward in that last sentence – how about: 'Looking back, she was sure that he, and by extension, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger were responsible for most of her gray hair.'

“Apparently, Gilderoy’s condition was not as dire as was imagined.” Dumbledore responded. “His skill with charms was, uh, overestimated.”

Minerva snorted in amusement at this. Dumbledore’s talent of speaking in understatements was legendary. Lockhart’s skill with everything was overestimated, usually by himself.

Dumbledore continued. “One evening, after eating a packet of Hob Nobs, his memories returned, and, it appears, he has been able to secure employment, in a somewhat dubious capacity, as Editor of this magazine. As for Miss Lovegood, she was destined for a career in publishing, a family legacy, I believe.”

“So, Albus, when do you divulge the news to the ‘Men of Hogwarts’?" Minerva inquired, her tone clearly indicating that she wanted to be present for that particular gathering.

“After the evening meal.” Dumbledore responded. “For now, I need to Floo everyone about the meeting.”

Minerva rose from her chair, replaced the letter carefully on Dumbledore’s desk and turned to leave.

Dumbledore’s voice caught her just before she exited the office. “Minerva, when you are finished passing the magazine around the ladies' washroom, please return it to this office. We certainly don’t need it circulating among the students. . . just yet.”

Minerva glanced quickly over her shoulder, gave Albus a quick wink and a cheeky grin then exited the room.

Albus turned swiftly to his fireplace and took a hand full of Floo powder from the tin on the mantle. He uttered the names of Bill, Severus, Filius, Remus, and Sirius. He scattered the powder over the flames, then put his head directly into the floo. With a whoosh of green fire, Dumbledore’s face appeared in each of the five fireplaces.

“I apologize for disturbing you, gentleman,” Dumbledore stated calmly. “But something of extreme importance has crossed my desk today which must be dealt with as soon as possible. I have called an emergency staff meeting. Please report to my office immediately following the evening meal. It would be wise if you did not discuss this with other members of staff.” Then with another whoosh, he was gone, leaving rampant curiosity in his wake.

************

Bill Weasley ran his hands through his long, bright-red hair as he hurried to dinner that evening. His strides lengthened as he reached the bottom of the grand staircase. The soles of his dragon hide boots beat a rapid staccato ‑­

across the polished, marble floor.

It had only been a few months since he’d taken Filch’s position, after the man retired, and already he was feeling as harassed as a twenty-year veteran. He was late after checking the wards on Gunhilda of Gorsemoor’s statue, which housed the entrance to the secret passage that ended beneath Honeyduke’s, in Hogsmeade.

It seemed that the students didn’t need anything as antiquated as the Marauder’s Map to find the castle's secret passages anymore. This year’s crop of Ravenclaw’s must have come equipped with homing devices, because they were capable of finding the hidden entrances all on their own.

As Bill strode quickly toward the entrance to the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall leaped out of the shadows and greeted him, hand waving madly. Before letting it drop to her side, Minerva’s hand fell lightly on his forearm, giving it a convulsive squeeze.

“Good Evening, Mr. Weasley.” She began, eyes running slowly over him. “How was your day?” Her mouth quirked into a slight smile. Her right hand reached up and tugged lightly on his fang earring, before patting him on the cheek.

Bill never knew her to be so friendly or solicitous and began to feel uneasy under the intensity of her gaze. He was not accustomed to a flirty McGonagall. Her eyes, running assessingly up and down his body, were beginning to give him the creeps.

Perhaps she had been drinking whiskey again.

He shook off his feelings of discomfort and with a muttered, “May I?” offered her his arm to escort her into dinner.

She looked up into his face with a tittering giggle, and then calmed herself enough to say, “That is very kind, thank you, Mr. Weasley.”

Then her mouth stretched into an unholy grin and a wicked light entered her eyes as she continued. “I certainly look forward to seeing more of you. Yes, indeed, I certainly do.”

***

The group of stunned men sat in the arc of chairs before Dumbledore’s desk. Professor Flitwick, looked around at his fellow teachers. Each wore expressions as varying as outrage, astonishment and amusement. They were all younger, taller and, in their own ways very attractive and more befitting of what he considered centerfold material. Perhaps his presence here had been a mistake.

“Headmaster,” Flitwick intoned in a slight, high-pitched voice. “Are you certain that I am to be included in this . . .” Where his voice trailed off his gesturing hand took over, encompassing all of the gathered members.

“Filius, your presence is most definitely required.” Dumbledore reassured him. “In fact, your name was the second on the list. It seems that there are women, and perhaps a few men, in the Wizarding community, with some peculiar curiosities.”

Filius immediately grasped the direction of his thoughts. His cheeks flushed bright red as he reluctantly nodded his agreement. He inched his way down off the chair and across to the desk where Dumbledore handed him a quill and the contract parchment. Ignoring the quill, he grasped the paper and returned to his chair, to read it carefully.

Sirius quirked a dark eyebrow and an amused grin etched its way across his face. He looked down at the aging Charms professor. “Well, Flitwick, who would have thought you’d be such a ladies magnet?”

Flitwick refused to dignify that question with a response and continued to read his contract, forehead furrowed in concentration.

Sirius then turned to Dumbledore, “Of course, I’ll sign, can’t disappoint the ladies, you know.” Sirius moved to stand over Dumbledore’s desk, picked up the quill pen and signed the publishing contract with a flourish.

“Anyone else?” Dumbledore looked enquiringly around the arc of assembled men.

Remus stood abruptly, shrugged, and signed his name at the bottom of his parchment. If Sirius was in, then he was in, too.

“Ah, very good Remus.” Dumbledore encouraged, “Your name was the third most requested, I believe, just behind that of Professor Flitwick.”

Remus turned enquiring eyes to Dumbledore. “Who then is the most requested subject?”

Dumbledore cleared his throat for effect. “It seems that the Witching Community has acquired an unhealthy fascination with our Professor Snape.” His raspy voice filled with amusement.

Sirius gave a loud snort. “Well, women these days certainly have a bizarre idea of what’s attractive. Wouldn’t you agree, Snivellus?”

Snape’s only outward response was the tensing of his shoulders. Unless you had been watching him closely, you wouldn’t have noticed the slight stiffening in his posture. He just crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Sirius in his most intimidating manner.

Dumbledore was unaffected by the baiting. He spoke as if uninterrupted, “According to the magazine Editor, it seems that women are fascinated by Severus’ snarky behavior.”

Bill stood and approached the desk, running a hand quickly through his bright red hair. “Snarky? He’s a downright bastard.”

“Watch yourself, Weasley,” came Snape’s surly response, black eyes glittering dangerously. “We would hate for anything to happen to ‘Bill, Jr.’, before your publishing debut, now wouldn‘t we?”

Bill’s face flushed angrily at the threat. He knew it was not an empty one. Severus would be just the bastard to pull a trick like that. Then, without giving it a second thought, Bill, too, boldly scrawled his name across the bottom of his contract. Then he, Sirius and Remus, speaking in amused undertones, strolled laughingly out of the office.

Dumbledore turned to Snape, “Well, Severus?”

Snape rose from the chair and stalked out of the room, not bothering to acknowledge the question. Black robe billowing behind him, he passed through the door as if the last forty-five minutes had never occurred.

Dumbledore glanced at Flitwick, an amused grin appearing out of nowhere.

At Flitwick’s questioning look Dumbledore chuckled and replied, “He’ll sign eventually Flitwick, that I can almost guarantee.”

Flitwick waved the contract parchment in front of him. “What about the other three? They signed this without bothering to read it.”

“Yes, they did,” came Dumbledore’s response. “That should be a valuable lesson for them.” Flitwick nodded in agreement.

“Before I sign, I would like to negotiate a few changes.” Flitwick proposed.

“Yes, yes of course. Filius. I am authorized to assist with those.” Dumbledore twinkled back.

Flitwick nodded then continued seriously. “I refuse to be photographed doing cartwheels. I will not be posed with any of the others. The alpaca is definitely out and . . .”

“Yes, Filius?” Dumbledore enquired softly.

Flitwick swallowed nervously but continued, “If Mrs. Flitwick finds out about this, you will be the one to Oblivate her.”

“Of course, Filius, of course.”