Chapter 54
A clock rang out the late hour, disturbing the silence in Albus Dumbledore's office. The headmaster brought his hands together and brought them to his lips. He bowed his head, deep in thought. There was something off about the first year John Smith. Of course he had known that the boy was different, right from the start. He was clearly brilliant, the type of mind that exists perhaps once every few hundred years, a Merlin incarnate really. And Albus gave him a lot of benefit of the doubt for this. But even so… there was something… something… off…
He could not put his finger on it. There was not anything wrong per se, but something was not right. It had been a very long time since Albus had met someone whom he could not figure out. It was like an itch he could not scratch or a high-pitched whine: just loud enough to be heard, but impossible to locate the source. Minerva told him that the boy was slightly psychic. It was strange: she had been the only one of his staff that had remained indifferent towards the young genius (most likely because he refused to learn transfiguration and was a constant source of frustration for her). Now though, after a brief psychic connection was made, she seemed, if anything, wary of him. She would not… no… could not answer any of his questions about what she saw during the boy's seizure. "Leave it alone, Albus," she had said, using his first name to emphasize her warning. "Whoever… whatever John Smith is, you don't want to get too closely involved." And that was it.
Madam Pomfrey was absolutely no help whatsoever, claiming healer-patient confidentiality when he asked and all but bodily removing him from her office when he insisted. Perhaps he could ask Sir Alastair? No. Lily Potter had given the Order a very clear summary of the man. He was by the book, tight lipped, and loyal to a fault. The man had clearly respected and even loved his science advisor enough to take in his child. There was no way he would talk about the boy beyond what he already had in his explanation to Remus Lupin.
Albus perked up at the thought of Remus. The young wizard was already somewhat invested in John's personal life. He had admitted to Albus that he was worried about the boy, concerned that he had a great deal of emotional and mental scaring. Moreso than even Harry Potter did.
The clock in the office chimed the half hour, and Albus looked up. It was half past midnight. He straightened in his chair, wincing as various joints popped loudly. He was no longer a young man (had not been for a very long time, to be honest). It was, perhaps, no longer a good idea to stay up the whole night worrying about problems that could be attended to in the morning. He glanced down at his desk. There were half a dozen scrolls of parchment to attend to: they still needed to start setting up a dragon paddock (experts informed him it could take an entire year of spelling and construction before it was safe to bring in the creatures), contacting the goblins entrusted to the keeping of the Goblet, giving Korsakoff details about the lake (why did he want to know the exact location of the ley lines running through?)… There was so much work in the coming year to prepare for the Triwizard Tournament, Albus was constantly asking himself why he had agreed to host it. Then there was the issue of convincing Alastor to teach. What with the DADA curse, Albus knew he could not depend on Remus to stay longer than a year, so he was already looking for a new teacher…
He picked up a quill, intending to start yet another letter to the paranoid auror. No. He set the quill down again. He had already made the decision not to stay up the whole night. He would write the letter to Moody tomorrow. He would waste his morning on a boat with Hagrid messuring the lake ley lines tomorrow. He would talk to Remus about helping him dig up information on John Smith tomorrow. Now was the time for bed.
He purposefully gathered all the scrolls on his desk into a pile, sealed his ink well, and stood up. Fawks, in the corner, lifted his head briefly to watch Albus before tucking it back under his wing. Albus stretched, sighed as a few more joints popped, and left the room for his chambers.
Jack woke up with the ghost of a smile on his lips. It was a long time since he had actually woken up happy, but today was going to be a good day: the conflict between him and Al had been resolved, he had collected a bunch of equipment from the TARDIS that he could not wait to start tinkering with, the Charms syllabus said they would be started a new type of spell today, there was a flying lesson today, and last, but best of all, no matter how it happened, the Doctor would be waking up today.
First things first though, Jack reached over to his nightstand and knocked over the lamp. He did not allow himself to knock the lamp over too frequently or it would be suspicious, but today, he allowed himself the fun of it. The lamp fell to the floor with a crash. Across the room, Leslie Lancaster yelped and fell on the floor in a tangle of blankets. In the bed next to Leslie, Richard Prince languidly sat up in his bed. "The world could be coming to an end, but it's good to know Jack Harkness will always be a clumsy oaf in the morning." He tried to say it gracefully, mimicking the smooth drawl of the third year, Draco Malfoy, but sleep made the well practiced sneer come out scratchy and wavering. In the bed next to Jack's, Ash slept on.
"Sorry," Jack said. He then had to duck under his bed in the pretense of finding a shoe or something to hide his silent laughter. By the time he got his quaking shoulders under control, the other boys were out of bed and getting ready for the day. Even Ash had finally woken up.
Ash looked at the lamp on the floor. "You knocked over the lamp today?" he asked Jack. Jack shrugged. He could not figure out if Ash knew that the daily morning loud noises were an intentional prank on Leslie or if he thought Jack was legitamitely clumsy. Ash never asked though, so Jack did not say anything one way or the other. The four first years finished getting ready and went down to the Great Hall for breakfast.
Despite his earlier optomism for the day, Jack found it to be dragging. He found himself constantly using the time function on his wrist strap and wondering if the Doctor was awake yet. Lunch finally rolled around, and Jack seated himself so that he could watch Gryffindor Table as well as the main entry door. The Doctor never showed up. With ten minutes left, Jack finally decided that the Doctor was not going to come. He gathered his material and set off for the hospital wing. Surely Professor Flitwick would understand if he was a little late to class.
"Madam Pomfrey?" Jack called out, stepping into the room.
"Yes? What's wrong?" Madam Pomfrey asked, stepping out of her office. "Oh, it's you" she said, realizing it was Jack. She shook her head. "He hasn't woken up yet. I want to delay intervention as long as possible. When's your last class of the day?"
"I have flight class from 3 to 4 this afternoon," Jack told her.
She nodded. "Very well then. After class, come back up here. If he hasn't woken up yet, we'll send you back in."
Jack agreed. A bell rang in the distance, and he cursed. He was officially late to class. Without sparing a good bye to Madam Pomfrey, he turned on his heel and ran out the door.
Madam Pomfrey sighed and shook her head. "If he had stayed a moment longer, I would have written him a pass," she said. The Doctor gave no indication he heard her. She laughed quietly. "Talking to yourself, Poppy? We may need a vacation when all this is over."
A/N: Sorry if there are mistakes. Usually I read through one last time before posting. There's no time today. Next chapter posted 4/2 (hopefully I'll have time to add some buffer chapters... I'm starting to run out of prewritten stuff O.O). Thanks for favoriting/following/reviewing. Bye.
