Sam stepped into the Headmaster's office. The room was, perhaps, the opposite of what he expected. The room was large and airy, circular, surrounded by pillars and books. Loads of books. Strange noises could be heard, puffs of smoke coming from little machines that clanked and puffed and whirred. In the corner, spitting clouds of smoke, Sam eyed a model of the first steam engine, built by the Greeks as a child's toy. Whoever this Dumbledore was, he knew a lot. On the walls were maps, diagrams of sorts, including a weird shape that caught Sam's eye- a series of dots on a grid, arranged in such a fashion:

010
001
111

For a brief second, Sam thought he recognised the symbol, but he quickly moved on. Next to the strange glyph was one even stranger, a triangle, split in half by a line, and a circle enclosed within. Magical geometry, perhaps? But by now Snape had stiffly pushed him forward, and conjured a hard-backed wooden chair upon which Sam was invited to sit. And then, at long last, Sam's eyes landed on the man himself.

He immediately took back everything he had said about Albus Dumbledore. Beneath the haggard face, the beard, and the warped spectacles, under the stupid wizard floppy hat, were a pair of blue eyes so intensely aware, so jaw-droppingly electric, it was as though he were communicating with the wisdom of all those who had come before in its entirety, along with something else, a force so powerful and foreign that Sam had no frame of reference for it. In the space of one second it was immediately clear to Sam- Albus Dumbledore was not a force to be underestimated. But he was also smiling, a kind, grandfatherly smile, one that put him at peace even as those clear eyes seemed to peer straight into his soul.

Dumbledore spoke. "So, Mr. Wright, what gives me the pleasure of meeting you today?"

Snape stepped in. "He knows the password, professor. I do not know how, but he knows."

"Thank you, Severus, that will be enough. I should like to speak with the boy privately, now." He winked (winked!) at Sam, then waved Snape away. With a resounding thunk, the door snapped closed. And now they were alone. Noting the badge on Sam's chest, Dumbledore began to speak again.

"It is rare that I have had the joy of speaking, alone, with a Hufflepuff. Please, feel free to talk- if there is anything you wish to tell me. I understand that this year has been.. difficult for you." He eyed, not in a hostile way, the badge that Sam had almost completely forgotten about.

And so he spoke. The entire thing, from start to finish, from realising physics was practically useless all the way to taunting Snape in the library. Throughout it all, Dumbledore remained silent. At the end, Sam realised that he must have been speaking for the better part of a half hour, and that Dumbledore was not still sitting in front of him. In a panic, he looked around, only to spot Dumbledore returning with a mug of something warm. It was...

"Cocoa, my dear boy. Drink up. It should help, I think." And it did, filling Sam up with a rare feeling of warmth. Now, however, Sam had some questions of his own.

"So, I suppose you are... not a senile half-awake headmaster puppet?"

"I should very much hope so, Mister Wright."

"But then..." Suddenly, the copious absence of the headmaster throughout the year seemed incredibly suspicious. "Why weren't... you..."

"Around?" Dumbledore helpfully suggested. "Perhaps you were wondering why I didn't, perhaps, descend from the heavens and chase the rather unfortunately named Dolores Umbridge from the Hogwarts grounds, no doubt to wild applause from the assembled Hogwarts faculty and students."

"Yes!"

"Ah... The hope and optimism of youth... It is something to be treasured. That spirit will do you well."

"What spirit?"

"To believe, in the end, that everything will be fine if good people try their hardest- that is a rare gem indeed. Perhaps you are a reader, by any chance?"

This was the first time anyone in the Wizarding world had even noticed.

"How did you know?"

"Very few Wizarding children express that sort of optimism, I'm afraid. Most carry certain, shall we say, inborn biases towards the current system. Fewer still see change as a possibility. And of those, even fewer see it as a path of their own."

"But what does that have to do with-"

"All in good time, Sam. All in good time."

For a brief second, wizard and child stared at each other, and Sam realised what the unknown quantity he had seen at the beginning was. Sadness. Or, more accurately, resignation.

"Certainly, if I were to enlist the help of some of my more loyal teachers, those who recognise the true value of education beyond a tool of indoctrination, such an act of rebellion would undoubtedly be feasible. And certainly, to the children within the castle, it would be momentary respite. But what of it?"

"What of it? We get rid of Umbridge, of course!"

It was then that Dumbledore's kindly smile gave way, and his gaze turned chilling, and utterly terrifying. "Perhaps, Samuel, we would be rid presently of an unpleasant figure. But tell me, Samuel, do you know the power of the Ministry? What, from your history of reading, would they do next?"

"I... I mean..." Suddenly, the plan of kicking Umbridge out seemed ridiculously childish to even Sam. "They... They would..."

And then he realised his mistake. "They would send someone even worse, to take care of everyone who fought against Umbridge."

And like that, the terror was gone, replaced by a deep melancholy. "Indeed. I, too, long for the days when a personal grievance was the cost of ending a reign of terror. You have, by now, no doubt heard of Grindelwald, and my great battle with him. Perhaps you did not know that he was an old friend of mine."

"An old friend?"

"Certainly. He was brilliant, charming... Wizards of a certain disposition are naturally drawn to each other. But I digress. Umbridge is not Grindelwald. The power we face, the power we must destroy... It cannot come by force. Although I dare say I would be more than a match for the forces of Fudge and his Auror office, at what cost? We would be branded traitors, criminals. The forces of Malfoy and the ancient pureblood houses cannot be defeated by spells or wandwork. As Snape would no doubt agree, the foolish wizard who relies on his wand to solve all his problems will be undone by his wand. In real life, alas, unlike fiction, there is no grand climax, no ultimate evil who can be defeated in some epic duel of the ages after a long and gruelling war."

"So... what? Are we just supposed to surrender? Give up?"

For a split second, Sam thought he saw a twinkle in the eye of Dumbledore. Then it was gone.

"For heavens sake, Sam, no. Why else do you think I gave you the password?"

"What?"

"The password, Samuel. Lemon drop."

"But it was the Sorting Hat-" And then he realised.

"You were the Sorting Hat's voice?"

A laugh, surprisingly clear for a man of his age. "For heaven's sake, no! My voice, I'm afraid, would not stand the beating seventy or so anxious First Years would put it through. The Sorting Hat and I, you see, did have an agreement, before it- well, he, was taken away, to try, as he put it, to identify those who possessed something... extraordinary."

"Hold on... The Hat was sentient?"

"Oh, yes."

"But then, why did Umbridge speak through the Hat? I just thought it was a sort of loudspeaker-ish thing..."

Dumbledore's face darkened, as if a storm were gathering behind those eyes. "There are certain cruelties that are spoken of with great trepidation in this world, Sam, curses that can rend soul from body and bend others towards your will. But worse still are the cruelties that remain unspoken, either out of fear or ignorance. The Sorting Hat is very much alive, Samuel, in the sense that it contains a mind, or portions of it, and senses. Perhaps one day, the true meaning of the Hat, and its history, will be revealed to you- but for now, we must continue."

"Um... alright, Professor Dumbledore. So, what was the Hat looking for?" Sam felt a weird sort of excitement inside of him. There was something that he was chosen for. That he and Hermione and maybe even the Gryffindors had some sort of special purpose, some part to play to take down the evils of the Ministry. It gave him more confidence than he had found in a long time.

"Some call it wisdom. Others call it ambition. Still others call it loyalty. And some call it courage. Those children who will not submit blindly. Those who had the capacity to recognise a better future, and work towards it. In short, those who are capable of learning. I've often suspected that we sort too early, but, alas, I am unable to prowl the halls, as my colleague Severus does so very effectively, in search of candidates. So we must make do."

"But what are you choosing them for? What is the goal of all this?"

"Help at Hogwarts will always be offered to those who ask, Samuel. If these children, bewildered and frightened, can recognise their innate ability to question and to doubt, then the key becomes of use. You saw Severus' reaction. Then, of course, they are told the meaning of their quest, and the ultimate answer to their curiosity, and their education may begin."

Dumbledore, it seemed, was building up to some sort of revelation. "So what is the meaning? What is the answer?"

A long pause, during which Dumbledore smiled kindly at Sam.

"The answer, " he said slowly, "Is that there is no answer."

Disappointment. Anger. Doubt. Was Dumbledore actually senile all along? Was this some sort of cruel joke?

"Headmaster, I'm afraid I don't understand..."

"Then you are in good company, Samuel. Long have I asked myself, how may this current predicament be solved? Once, were I younger, I would have know for certain my answer. But now, I am older, and perhaps slightly wiser, and I know to doubt definite answers. I only know this- True change can only come from within."

Silence.

"So you can't help at all?"

"Alas, I am hamstrung by the twin burdens of age and wisdom. Old men are naturally suspicious of the follies of youth, and with good reason. Alas, I can only hope that you do not abandon your quest for change, that you grow and try to affect change from within society itself. Perhaps one day, you will find yourself in the same position as Umbridge, and be given an ability to change the world for the better. You are the future, after all. Now, finish your cocoa."

Sam hadn't even realised it, but his cocoa was growing cold as the talk dragged on. With a flick of his wand, it became pleasantly warm once more.

"If anyone asks, Sam, please do say you were in the dungeons with Snape. I believe veiled allusions to blood-sucking quills are in order. Now, however, I must ask you to take your leave, and I shall go back to my daily session of drooling- really, quite a refined art, if you do it properly." A small smile. But Sam wasn't done.

"One last question, Headmaster. Where are the Gryffindors now, exactly?"

One more mysterious look. "That will come in the morning, dear boy. Now, good night." With an air of finality, the doors swung open.