.

Harry Potter and the Credible Nose of Density

As Professor Dumbledore pulled his head out of his ash he had a cough drop behind. He bonged his hat on the mantelpiece as he jerked round.

"Ahem! Excuse me, Headmaster, there's a beetle in your hair." It was McGonagall's foot that was crushing his fingers into the hearth. "Have you just been talking to... You-know-who?"

She took a half-pace back but he still felt crowded as he scrambled to his feet then stood up.

Soot spluttered into her face as he replied. "Of course not, I've been talking to Lord Voldemort. Always use the proper name for things, Minerva. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."

"Oh, in that case it's not a beetle, it's a venenacataphractoscorpionem."

"A what?"

"It's a type of magically-armoured poisonous scorpion."

"Aaagh!" Dumbledore danced around to his stock of memories to see if there was anything relevant from his early days. "Why didn't you say so!"

Panicking, he began to smash the most recent recollections to the floor so he could scrabble his numb, withered hand right to the back of the shelves but he could feel nothing there at all.

"I didn't want to alarm you, Albus. Fear of a name—"

"Yes, yes..." He looked in his mirror but all he saw was socks. "Has the wotsit gone?"

"I believe it fell into the Pensieve, Headmaster."

"Ah good, I'll try to remember to remove it later. I wonder how it got through the impregnable wards of Hogwarts? All I did was floo-speak to He-who-must-not-be-named for a few minutes and he never came closer than to kindly pluck some smut out of my eye with his new wand."

"Headmaster, there is something terribly important you need to know. It affects the destiny of all wizardkind."

"Oh, very well, what is it?"

"It's... complicated."

"Well, extract the memory and forget about it. I'll review it later..." He looked around furtively with a crafty look in his eye and rubbed his hands together. "...in secret."

"I did, Albus. I think it's that one under your heel."

"No matter. A simple repair spell should—" He reached for his pocket. "Strange... my wand seems to have... mysteriously disappeared."

"When did you last see it, Headmaster?"

"I was showing it off to the Dark Lord. It's got a really good swish you know. I think he was impressed; he certainly tested it exhaustively on me. Good man that Wotsisname. Oh! NOW I remember."

"What, Albus?"

"What?"

"Don't you think you rely too much on that Pensieve?"

"My memory is fine, Minerva. For instance, the quadruple-ward Hogwarts' gate passwords are coconut fudge, liquorish whirls, peppermint plums, and butterscotch balls; no one will ever guess those."

"About bloody time!"

Dumbledore whirled around to face the fireplace again. "Was that...?"

"Voldemort, yes."

Dumbledore gasped and shrieked, "D- don't say that n- name—!" He shrivelled down to the floor behind his desk in a foetal position and began sucking his thumb. McGonagall rolled her eyes and waited impatiently. After a while he spat it out onto the floor to join them.

"Better?" It was Hermione Granger at the door. She looked very dishevelled, with shirt buttons askew and school robes badly rucked up.

McGonagall scooped them up and leapt to her feet. "POTTER! What have I told you about doing that!"

"Sorry?"

"Oh... so it really is you, Miss Granger. Yes well... Didn't you ever learn to knock?"

"Professor... Why have you got what looks like a rotting turnip in your eye socket?"

"A hand here, if you please, Minerva."

"No thank you, Headmaster." Minerva looked at Hermione really seriously. "Miss Granger. Lord Thingy has gathered together all his erm..."

"Death Eaters?"

"Yes. And all of their..."

"House-elves?"

"Erm... yes. And they are planning to—"

"Use the house-elves to Apparate all the dark wizards and witches into Hogwarts!" Hermione's eyes gleamed and she hammered the side of her fist down like a gavel into her other palm like an auctioneer who had made a big sale with lots of commission. "I totally knew it! I read about it in the Daily Prophet last week. Utterly barbaric, of course."

"No, they'll be walking in the front gate with packed lunches, actually," said McGonagall. She frowned darkly at the old man on the floor.

"Are any of these yours?" said Dumbledore.

"Oh, yes, thank you, Headmaster," said McGonagall, stooping down with a stoop. "I don't know whose is the old man though."

She suddenly spun around so swiftly that Hermione was taken by surprise. "So, you see, it's up to you, now, Miss Granger."

"Me? What can I do?"

She wrinkled up her nose. There seemed to be what looked like a washing up bowl full of dirty socks soaking in a cabinet; an insect was creeping over the rim. Disgusting! Hermione thought to herself. Flicking behind her back, she flicked it away with a flick of her wand where it flicked over into the flickering flames in the fire in the fireplace which was as green as the brightest of emeralds burnished in the sun.

"Ouch!" something hissssed.

"What d- difference c- can I m- make?" Hermione stammered.

"Are you sure you're not Potter?" said McGonagall, suspiciously.

"There's an owl," said Madam Pomfrey. "Sorry... the door was open so I... Where's the headmaster?"

McGonagall flicked her eyes towards the desk.

"Oh, not again," said Matron, fussily, striding forward to see better. "Hullo, is that my old man you've got there, Headmaster?"

"Shouldn't you be tending the dead and dying, Poppy?" muttered Dumbledore. He was annoyed, you could tell.

"Oh, right. Sorry, forgot. But there's an owl... in the owlery."

"That's where they're supposed to be."

"Really? Right... I'll just go then..." Madam Pomfrey crept secretly out the door but stamped her feet up and down to sound like she was creeping secretly downstairs while she listened secretly at the door.

"Stupid cow. I never really liked her," said McGonagall. "An owl in the owlery? I ask you."

"Oh, that reminds me!" said Hermione.

"Miss Granger," McGonagall frowned darkly and she approached the young girl menacingly. "What was your real purpose in coming here?"

"Well, that's what I was about to tell you when I said, 'Oh, that reminds me!'" huffed Hermione. "There's a really urgent message. I picked it up just now from that owl in the owlery. It's for the headmaster's ears only."

McGonagall scowled. "And how would you know that?"

Hermione's face went scarlet as a beetroot.

"Very well, I'll take care of it," said McGonagall, sternly, and her lips thinned together ever so sternly.

"But..."

McGonagall held out her hand really sternly this time.

Hermione relented, handed it over, then burst into tears. She ran from the room where she collided with Madam Pomfrey, sending the matron hurtling down the steps and bouncing Hermione back into the headmaster's office. But McGonagall was too shocked to notice.

"Headmaster, the owl..." she said quietly.

"Yes, yes..."

"This message..."

"Yes, yes..."

"That Miss Granger brought here..."

"Yes, yes..."

"It's from..."

"Yes, yes..."

"Minister Fudge."

There was a loud bang as Dumbledore's hat bonged on the underside of his desk as he leapt to his feet. "What does the message say?"

McGonagall hesitated, opened it up, then read it out with a trembling hand:

"URGENT! For Dumbledore's ears only," McGonagall glowered at Hermione before resuming...

"Good work, Dumbledore! Lord Wotsisface is like totally dead. A team of wizards has been examining his swollen nose for hours and it looks like he was killed by multiple-soul venom from some kind of deadly bug."

"But I thought he hadn't got a nose?" said Hermione, dubiously.

"He has now it's swollen, hasn't he!" said the message.

"But that doesn't make a jot of sense," said Hermione.

"Miss Granger," and now McGonagall looked really threatening blackly. "We saw Thingamajig's live head only minutes ago. How could this message possibly have been sent before... unless... or... could it be...?" There was a mysterious, faraway look in her eyes.

"Fine, have it your way then! Actually, it was brilliant! Hermione lent me her... Hang on.. I mean, I used my Time-turner to erm... thing." With a guilty look on her face, she tried to smooth out the creases in her school robes.

"Ah... that explains it all," said McGonagall with another mysterious, faraway look in each of her eyes.
.

The End

.