I had spent most of the morning fixing my silver Discumbobulators, which Harry, bless him, had smashed in his fury. It was good to have to do, to take my mind off the things I didn't want to think about. I had individually mended each broken part and reassembled them, and was just trying to get my second-favourite Discumbobulator running again when there was a knock at my door. It had been a morning of interruptions; I was fairly sure this was the hundredth person to knock at my door today.
"Come in!" I called. A tall, skinny boy in Slytherin robes shuffled in. As headmaster, I have to try to be even-handed about these things, but I do have difficulty with the Slytherins. In a way, they remind me of how I thought and felt during my youth, my arrogance that destroyed my family. Only Aberforth remembers now, and he will never forgive me. Nor should he.
"Ah, Theodore, hello!"
The Nott boy looked anxious and his eyes had a red sheen of tiredness. I had wondered about Theodore. According to his teachers he was a bright pupil, studious and quiet. Most of the other members of staff had recommended him as Slytherin prefect, but I had thought it best to keep him away from even this minor position of power. There was something so cold and closed about him. Draco Malfoy was spoiled, impetuous and prejudiced, but I found him easy to read, despite all his efforts to the contrary. But Nott…I just couldn't tell, and it scared me. He could have been progressive, as far as Slytherins are, or he could have been another Tom Riddle. There was no way of knowing.
Of course, I couldn't really blame the Nott boy for his secrecy, as he would have seen nothing to gain by confiding in me. I wondered which, if any, of his housemates knew his true allegiances. If he had no loyalty to Voldemort he would be best off keeping that quiet; even if he did believe in Riddle's cause he might want to keep his options open. These children of Death Eaters tread a difficult path, particularly the sons. How can we keep them away from Voldemort when both their parents and their contemporaries push them towards him? It was better, I thought, to keep children like Theodore as far as possible from the influence of others in the hope that they develop their own sense of purpose and morality.
"Good morning, Professor Dumbledore,"
"Do have a seat, Theodore," I indicated a chair.
"Thank you, sir," he said, slinking into it.
"As you know, we will need to discuss your arrangements for the summer holidays."
"Did Professor Snape pass on my request?" Theodore looked up at me anxiously, then quickly away.
"He did," I said, surveying him over my spectacles. "But I'm afraid that you will not be allowed to stay at your home alone."
He looked disappointed but not surprised.
"The Ministry will probably send someone to search the property for Dark objects." I tried to keep my voice casual, light, as though this were an everyday occurrence.
The Nott boy flinched; despite my tone, I could see that to him the words were still weighted with disgrace.
"If the Ministry are searching my house, I want to be there!" He stopped, as if shocked by his own lack of poise.
"You will be allowed to be present while representatives of the Ministry are there," I explained soothingly. "But you are not permitted to be there alone."
Theodore glared. "It's my house."
"I'm sorry."
Quickly, he tried another tack: "Thickthorn Chase is not the only house in my family's possession. I could stay at Twelve Oaks. Unless the Ministry want to search that too?"
"They may do. But I'm afraid that the central problem is that you are not legally of age. Someone needs to be your acting guardian for the summer. Narcissa Malfoy sent an owl to let me know that you could stay with her and Draco."
"Can't I stay here, at Hogwarts?"
"Would you rather stay here?"
"Obviously."
I was reminded of another conversation, between another headmaster and another Slytherin. Tom Riddle had scarcely wanted to leave Hogwarts…
"Why?" I asked, not really expecting an answer.
He shrugged, indifferently.
Cold, I thought. They're raised to be so cold.
Then he spoke. "I know some of the teachers stay over the summer, so I wouldn't be alone. They'd probably barely notice me…" His tone was pleading, deperate.
"Do you not want to stay with the Malfoys?" I said, curiously. I knew the ties between the two families went back further even than the time of Voldemort's first rise to power, but I knew nothing of the relationship between the two boys. They simply did not interest me. True, I did not want either of them to join Voldemort, but in general I viewed such people as the spoiled sons of wizarding privilege: bored, arrogant and utterly banal.
"I am grateful to them for their concern about me, sir," said Theodore tonelessly.
There was a rather pregnant pause. I did not know which would be more dangerous: leaving Theodore Nott alone in his family's house for the summer where he'd be easily found by Death Eaters looking to fill their ranks, or sending him to stay with another Dark family. It's more than likely he'll end up with a Dark Mark on his arm - but I'd be a fool to give him the run of Hogwarts for the summer.
"I am afraid, Theodore, that I cannot permit you to remain at Hogwarts for the summer holidays." I said. "As you know, students may stay over the summer only in very exceptional circumstances. While I agree that your situation would qualify, my first duty is to ensure the castle's security. We cannot have students here while we perform the necessary magical fortifications. I'm sorry."
"There's nowhere else I can go?"
"I am sure you would not wish to snub Narcissa Malfoy by ignoring her offer and lodging at a bed and breakfast."
"And I really can't go home?"
"It's out of the question, I'm afraid."
The Nott boy was silent. I let him sit for a moment, thinking, and then said gently, "I'll send Mrs. Malfoy an owl. She will be glad to have you to stay."
"All right," said Theodore flatly. He started to rise from his chair.
"One more thing," I said. "Could you possibly tell me the story of the wizard and the hopping pot?"
He stared, nonplussed. I suppose it was rather an odd question.
"I'm doing some research on the tales of Beedle the Bard," I smiled.
"Oh…I'm afraid I've never read them in the original runes," said Theodore. "I know I should have…"
"I was actually hoping that you'd say that. My interest, you see, is in the tale as it has been passed down through generations of wizards. So just tell me the story as you remember it."
"All right…" said Theodore suspiciously. "Well, there's an old wizard at the beginning who dies…and he leaves his son his cauldron. The other people in the village know the family is magical, and one day the son hears a knock at his door and answers it to see a muggle woman. She's covered in warts and she's angry because she thinks the wizard hexed her."
As I thought. This was sad in its predictability.
"She keeps trying to hit him with her rolling pin, and he can only dodge out of its way because he came to the door unprepared to defend himself. But then, his father's cauldron, which has suddenly sprouted a foot, leaps up and swallows her whole. Apart from the occasional noises she makes banging around inside the pot, the wizard is left in peace until later that evening. Then a man comes with a pitchfork, furious because he thinks that the wizard Vanished his donkey. But before he can stab the wizard, the pot leaps up and swallows him whole. Then…these things usually come in threes, don't they… an outraged mother with a flaming torch, convinced that the wizard has cursed her baby. And the pot leaps up and swallows her whole. Eventually the rest of the muggle villagers decide that they don't want to be eaten by the pot, and they go together to the wizard's house, where they solemnly promise to leave him alone. And then the pot regurgitates all the muggles it has swallowed. "
He stopped and looked up at me, still not quite believing that I really wanted to hear him repeat a children's story.
"Thank you, Theodore." I said heavily. He was still looking at me strangely.
The way to approach Slytherins, especially smart, cynical ones like Theodore Nott, is subtlety. Tell them they need to renounce Voldemort, or even that they have your support if they turn their backs on the Dark side before they're good and ready and you've lost them for sure. But plant an idea in their minds, be patient and persistent and hopefully, eventually, they'll come to you. That was the plan, of course. Truthfully I hadn't had too much luck with Slytherins in the past. I'd had to lose Severus before he came back to me, and even then that was more to do with Lily Potter than anything I had ever done.
"Here…" I took a handsome new gold and white paperback book out of the drawer of my desk and slid it across to him.
"What's that, sir?"
"You've studied Ancient Runes, haven't you, Theodore?"
"Yes, sir. But I'm thinking about dropping it next year."
"That would be a very great shame. Do try to keep it up if you can. Perhaps this will inspire you. It's the original runic version of The Tales of Beedle Bard. You should have no problems reading it with an OWL in Ancient Runes."
"Oh…thank you, sir. When would you like it back?"
"You may keep it, Theodore."
"That's very kind of you, sir." Again, he sounded almost suspicious. He picked up the book, running a finger down the embossed spine. "Why is the cover so strange and thin?"
"It's a paperback," I explained. "They're more affordable than any other kind of binding, and lighter to carry around. Far more common in Muggle bookshops, of course," I couldn't resist adding, "but I think they're starting to catch on in our world. Ours are reinforced with spells to give them a bit more durability. It's interesting how Muggle technology has influenced our world."
"Yes, I suppose," said Theodore politely, whilst still managing to convey a veiled sense of skepticism.
"You don't think so?" I said. "Isn't the Hogwarts Express a steam engine? Where do you think the idea for the Wizarding Wireless Network came from?"
"Ottaline Gambol," Theodore muttered, under his breath. "Now there's a name you don't bring up in polite company."
I continued, mildly, "I think it is a mistake we make too often, to assume that wizards and Muggles inhabit discrete and distinct worlds. The reality is, as ever, more complicated. Beedle knew that, and I hope you will remember it too. Now if you will excuse me, I have a busy day ahead of me. If you encounter difficulties in your arrangements over the summer, please do not hesitate to contact Professor Snape."
I hoped he would read it. I hoped I hadn't needled him too much and ruined everything. I hoped that seeing how this simple story had been changed to serve a darker purpose he would learn to question the truth of what his father and his peers must have told him about blood purity. Planting seeds. That's all I can do.
A/N: I hope you like :) Thought I'd say here that the inconsistent capitalization of "Muggle" was actually a stylistic choice - Dumbledore is using the word in a much more respectful way. I suppose I could have worked that into the story somehow, but meh.
