Chances
~*~*~*~*~*~
Hermione stormed down the
stone corridor after the feast was over and all the children had been sent to
their prospective common rooms.
She stopped abruptly in
front of a stone phoenix and barked: “Sugar Quill.” She continued stomping up
the stairs and banged on Dumbledore’s door.
“Enter,” said Dumbledore,
slightly muffled from the other side of the door.
She entered and saw
Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall, Professor Sprout, and Professor Flitwick
sitting in front of his desk. How could she have not thought the heads of house
would be convening after the sorting?
“I’m terribly sorry,” said
Hermione, calming herself a bit. “I’ll come back later.”
“We’re very nearly done,”
said Dumbledore. “Just a few class changes to accommodate all the First Years.”
“Wonderful group we’ve got
this year,” squeaked Flitwick happily. Hermione smiled weakly at him.
“I’ll be with you in a
moment, Hermione,” Dumbledore said over the top of his gold wire-rimmed
spectacles.
Hermione skimmed some of
the titles without really reading them on one of Dumbledore’s bookshelves. She
finally chose a book with a blue cover and sat in an armchair off to the side.
She opened it and turned a page from time to time to give the appearance of
reading. The words had no meaning for her.
She tried to keep from
glancing up frequently in annoyance. The meeting seemed to go on for hours and
the clock on the wall seemed to have slowed to a pace a snail could creep laps
around.
Finally, the class
schedules were settled and the Heads of House filed out. Hermione rose and sat
in a chair in front of Dumbledore’s desk, her book still in her hand. She
waited patiently as Dumbledore finished jotting down notes and he looked up to
smile at her.
“I had no idea you were
interested in plumbing,” Dumbledore remarked.
Hermione looked down and
saw the title of her book: Easy Bathroom Improvements. It was a Muggle
publisher. Good Lord, she was flustered.
“Just something new,” she
said weakly.
Suddenly, she had no idea
what she was going to say. She had no proof, just intuition. What if it was
just a coincidence?
“Would you mind if I
borrowed your pensive?” Hermione said. “I would like you to see something.”
“Of course,” said
Dumbledore, mildly surprised. He rose and went to a wooden cupboard. There were
several pensives of different size inside. He selected one the size of a cereal
bowl and handed it to Hermione. “Is this large enough?”
“Quite,” said Hermione
wryly. In her opinion a swimming pool wasn’t large enough for memories of this
magnitude.
She pulled a few wispy
thoughts from her head and placed them in the bowl. She stirred them liberally
and handed the bowl to Dumbledore.
“Hermione, if this is
personal-,” Dumbledore began.
“Albus,” said Hermione,
her chin set stubbornly. “I have known you for twenty years. Look in the damn
pensive.”
He raised his eyebrows
slightly and leaned over into the small bowl, his silver hair spilling over his
desk. If the situation had not had Hermione in such a state she would laughed
at the sight before her. He looked like Crookshanks trying to get the last few
drops of milk out of a bowl.
After a few minutes, in
which Hermione replaced the book on the shelf to have something to do,
Dumbledore raised his head. He steepled his fingers in front of his mouth and
looked at her.
“Well,” he said. “That was
most interesting.”
“Thought it might be,”
said Hermione in a sarcastic tone that didn’t suit her.
“What are you suggesting I
do?” Dumbledore asked.
“I don’t know,” said
Hermione. “Can we find out what happened?”
“Hermione,” said
Dumbledore. “There is more than one Malfoy family in the whole of
England.”
“Wizarding families?”
Hermione challenged.
“Malfoy is a French name,”
Dumbledore said patiently. “Perhaps this is the first of the line to come
through Hogwarts. Perhaps the family normally employs private tutors.”
Hermione let her breath
out, deflated and discouraged.
“You’re right, Professor,”
Hermione said.
“We did discuss the
probability of this happening,” said Dumbledore, reaching out a hand and
lifting the lid on a small covered glass dish full of lemon drops. Hermione
took one and sucked on it. It clacked loudly on her teeth in the large quiet
office.
“We did,” said Hermione.
“But I don’t remember this particular probability coming up.”
“Life often is
unpredictable,” Dumbledore chuckled.
“Quite,” said Hermione,
sighing. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.”
She retrieved the pensive
and replaced her memories.
“It was a reasonable
concern,” said Dumbledore, smiling slightly. “Perfectly understandable.”
“Thank you,” said Hermione
weakly as she rose to leave his office.