McGonagall wasn't sure about anything other than the fact that the fae had far different ideas of acceptable behavior.

The first hint she received was when their third in command, Clarrisse, and a member of the support squad, Katie, got into a fight over a tree.

It was the whomping willow to be precise, and the blasted thing loved them both for as varying reasons as Katie and Clarrisse did.

Sprout was rather fond of Katie, seeing as her mere presence was enough to make the more vicious plants behave.

The second hint she received was finding the youngest looking, Jazz, she believed, cackling over a cauldron and quoting Hamlet while Alena, her best friend, and partner in crime cheered her on.

The potion apparently was useless unless you liked dramatic lights, excessive smoke, and explosions at random moments that covered everything within five feet with glitter.

At least she knew her stuff.

The third and final reason was when she looked out her office window to see them dragging a catapult across the grounds to use as a diving board. 

Steve, Percy, and Annabeth were giving points for style, accuracy, and technique.

They didn't really have a chance to talk much not having interacted with any of them. She hadn't even heard them sing, something Pomona and Sprout assured her "was the sweetest melody to be played on these grounds in years."

However, on the night of August 18, just as the sun went down, that changed.

McGonagall had found herself drawn to her office window overlooking the lake by the most sorrowful music she had ever heard in her life. Just listening made her remember those she had lost, both from battle and old age.

"If you must mourn, my love, mourn with the moon and the stars up above. If you must mourn, don't do it alone." The fae sang.

She didn't know how long she listened, only that every note made her heart pang with grief and tears flow from her eyes.

So when Dumbledore told her that the fae were going to put on a show she feared for the worse, having experienced how powerful their music could be first hand.

The drums started, soft chanting in Gaelic filling the great hall as the students quieted down.

Four fae girls in green and gold dresses dropped down from the rafters, hitting the floor and instantly bursting into song.

A violin appeared in one of the girl's hands and the melody began, upbeat and lively.

When they got to the chorus more voices joined in, hidden by the rafters.

After the chorus, they all raised a glass and the rest of the troupe dropped down, spinning in mesmerizing swirls that had to have some illusionary magic added in.

The extra dancers pulled back to the teacher's table, taking a drink of the transfigured wine and slamming the goblets down in time and two broke away from the backup dancers.

One was a girl in a silver parka, the other a boy with a red jacket on.

They raced down the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables respectively as the drums began their solo.

They both clapped their hands together and drew them apart slowly, lightning crackling between the girls and fire flaring between the boys.

The electricity and flames expanded, into shapes, shapes that the pair proceeded to juggle, spin, and skip rope with before throwing their powers towards each other.

The fire and lightning collided smack in the middle of the great hall, like more freindly-to-bystanders agni kai, exploding into multicolored fireworks that formed into the shapes of golden dancing humanoids that spun in time with the fae, fading as the dancers froze, music coming to a stop.

The students leapt to their feet, cheering and applauding the performance as the fae all took a bow.

McGonagall noticed that all of the main performers either had blue eyes or blonde hair, most of whom had both.

More fae descended from the roof, running down the wall and doing a flip to land on the ground safely, garnering another round of applause before dispersing amongst the tables almost evenly, all in their green cloaks.

Percy, the leader of the troop and his lieutenant Annabeth, both took their seat at the staff table, Percy waving his hand over his meal, turning it to various shades of blue.

McGonagall glanced at the new DADA teacher and was delighted to find Umbridge was turning a rather violent shade of red.

Annabeth was discussing something with Madam Pince, who was apparently already fond of the grey-eyed fae, as she had been spending the majority of her time in the library since they had arrived here in July.

Percy smiled fondly at her before turning and speaking with Dumbledore about the optional class on fae Percy would be teaching.

Suddenly one of the fae stood, slamming his palms on the Slytherin table. "We are the sand Guardians, guardians of the sand!"

No less than half of the other fae stood. "Posideon quivers before us!" They shouted, looking expectantly at Percy as the others laughed or groaned.

Percy twitched violently and every goblet on the staff table and half the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables suddenly ejected their contents.

The first fae to shout ran up, his form blurring with speed, and measured the distance between Percy to the farthest exploded goblet. "76 and a half feet!"

"New record!" Yelled another, looking like the pair were related.

Dumbledore was chuckling, along with a few students as they cleaned up the mess.

Neither of the two pranksters escaped, each glowing briefly before vanishing.

Next to Percy, a small cage with a pair of brown guinea pigs in it appeared. The pigs looking both pleased and amused until Percy shook the cage, chuckling darkly.

Annabeth took the cage from his hands and set it down next to her plate, making Percy pout. "Eat your food or I'll burn not only your taffy, but the licorice."

Looking scandalized, Percy quickly ate his blue roast beef and went to take a drink.

When his hand touched the goblet it filled with a golden liquid that smelled of McGonagal's  mother's cranachan.

Percy caught her looking. "It's necter."  He said, tilting the goblet so the transfiguration teacher could see. "Drink of the g- fae. Unless you plan on joining us for eternity I don't recommend trying it."

"It smells like my mother's cooking," McGonagall admitted.

"It tastes and smells like your favorite food," Annabeth explained, taking a swig from Percy's goblet. "For me, it tastes like the popcorn my father and I used to make."

"My mom's blue cookies," Percy smiled, finishing the goblet. "It can heal too, but the only fae. It's saved my life several times."

"If you stop getting in dangerous situations you wouldn't have needed so much." Annabeth quipped, not looking at Percy. "You almost got your own bed in the infirmary. Chiron was going to have Will put up a sign and everything."

"No, he wasn't." Percy paused. "Was he?"

"No."

McGonagall let out a snort of laughter and the fae grinned at her. They were joking around so she would be more at ease around them.

"If I may ask, what is the difference between the magic of fae and mortals?"

"It's more intent and focus," Annabeth said, stealing Percy's refilled goblet and taking a sip. "No words unless you're a charmspeaker."

"Charmspeaker?" McGonagall asked, taking a bite of her pudding.

"They command and you obey." Annabeth explained. "My friend, Piper, with the Custos troupe, is one. Only one at the moment. Drew died a few decades back."

"How many troupes are there?"

Annabeth smiled. "More than there were in the old days. We are the Kidemonas Troupe. We have friendly relations with five others although three have settled down."

McGonagall nodded. "Do you visit often?"

Percy nodded. "We saw the Custos Troupe not four years ago. It's leader is Jason, Thalia, Sora and Skye's half brother. Thalia is actually from another troupe but she's visiting family. Nico is a rouge fae, traveling wherever the shadows call. But when he wants to, we let him travel with us. He's Thalia's and my cousin. Our fathers are brothers."

McGonagall nodded, ignoring that strange turn of phrase Percy had used. It must be a fae saying. "That's good that you stay in contact."

"Hem, hem."

Percy turned, raising an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Pardon me for interrupting, but would you mind if I ask you a question.  I am Senior Undersecratary for the Minsitry of Magic and current Defense against the Dark arts Professor, Delores Umbridge."

"Well, that's not good." Annabeth mused, swiping the Blue Vines (like Red Vines, but blue) that Percy had pulled from his pocket.

"Pardon?"

"If you work for both the Ministry and Hogwarts, you must have a ridiculous amount of paperwork. Gods know I've seen mortals drown in it time and time again. Add that onto the fact that mortal government is over all inefficient and a beruacratic nightmare that make the last five mortal wars combined look appealing, alongside the constant influx of essays and homework assignments from the thousand aspiring wizarding students that attend this school."

Percy grinned into his cup, apparently having seen his lietenat get going before.

"The only way I can see you managing all of the excess paperwork would be to limit the amount of homework and tests assigned to your students, along with foregoing any practical work as that can lead to injury, especially in your department, which means paperwork. The only way I can see you being able to handle it all is if the only examination be the final exam and the rest of the year be comprised of pure theoretical book reading."

Percy's grin grew larger as Annabeth tilted her head, giving Umbridge an innocent look.

"But that wouldn't do at all." The blonde said sweetly.  "That single action alone would be detrimental to thousands of students, an entire generation, leading to the decline of law enforcement and specialized professions. I can see Magical Britain falling within the next two decades if that was to occur, five years if another of your wars breaks out." She grinned. "Does that answer your question?"

McGonagall had been barely able to keep up with Annabeth's impromptu speech but what she had grasped was enough to turn Delores purple.

Percy checked his watch. "We better get going. We have wards to create."  He snapped his fingers and in blurs of green the fae vanished.

Delores looked on the verge of murder as she excused herself and stormed off to her room.

Mcgonagall leaned towards Flitwick and Snape. "Thirty Galleons Umbridge starts a war before years end."

"Fifty." Flitwick said.

"Christmas." Snape drawled.