UNFORGETTABLE
"Draco Malfoy is leaving Hogwarts."
It was true---not a rumor. They had first seen him rush out of the Great Hall with that letter, that etched letter with the Malfoy name curled like a stamp throughout the white, and then, it came---in hesitant steps, Malfoy told one of the Slytherins he was leaving, and it spread---caressing every single curious student who listened, and every person who jumped and screamed of joy---and some who looked puzzled, and some girls who began crying, their arms hanging loosely over each other's shoulders.
The excitement lasted a week before they said they saw him packing after he paid a visit to Dumbledore---and everyone wanted to know what was being said, and why, exactly, he was leaving.
A relative? An emergency! His mother died! His father died! Oh, he must have a sister who's gotten raped. Oh no, it must be a hair emergency. Oh my God, he must be in one of those muggle gangs, they probably hired him because of his skin, oh they probably thought he was a skeleton ---the stories ran endlessly, and always odd, and everyone was laughing, screaming, making grotesque expressions at them all.
It was whispered throughout the halls in terrified, gleeful, and many more emotions mingled within the words, spoken, nonetheless, and Harry Potter heard it and his feet seemed to freeze in midstep. It was only when, deep in thought of what life would be like---with the ferret gone---Hermione, Ron, and him again, together, playing in the snow lack of the word mudblood and all the creases, flaws that had been thrown in---the thought of true happiness at last made him glow---until he raised his head and saw Dumbledore towering over him, right as he was exiting his History of Magics class, Hermione and Ron trotting behind him.
"Harry," Dumbledore said softly.
"Professor!" said a flustered Harry, stepping back a little. A shock, startled feeling fulfilled him at long last. "Sorry."
"Harry," Dumbledore said, with a shake of his head, the twinkle in his eye still growing everlasting. "I have a proposition for you."
"Um, but, um..." Harry said, words meaningless.
Dumbledore apparently did not want Hermione and Ron to hear what he was going to say. Harry glanced apologetically at them, and they waved a hasty goodbye before Hermione tugged forcefully at Ron's arm and pushed through the crowds.
Harry did not know how his legs took him, but somehow they managed to arrive at an vacant corner of the hallway.
"I shouldn't talk about this outside of my office," he said hastily, adjusting the glasses. Harry stared, disbelievingly. He had never seen Dumbledore so nervous before.
"But...I feel you only have ten hours, and, if he leaves..."
"Who leaves? Malfoy?" Harry asked, his lips parting halfway in awe.
Dumbledore gazed at him somberly. "Harry, you know the Death Eaters are planning to ...rule Hogwarts." A gentle smile tugged at his lips, as if to say, what a foolish thing to do.
"Yes," Harry said hurriedly.
"Well," Dumbledore, said pausing, "Draco has recieved an urgent dismissal note in which he is needed at home---of course, we both know that is truly not what it seems."
"Ah," Harry said in understanding. He had a unfounded urge to say, "and I give a fuck because?" but restrained himself.
"He has, of course, taken his father's place in the Death Eater circle." Dumbledore spoke gravely, a soft whisper after each and every single word parting from his tongue, studying him closely. Harry looked around, but it seemed everyone had already entered the Great Hall, and he could hear students chattering echoing from the distance of the hallways
Harry did not say a word. He could almost feel the tension between him and Dumbledore---Dumbledore's eyes seemed to be pleading in someway, and it shocked him beyond disbelief, charged his body into something entirely unusual---a chill foregone.
"And I want tostophimph."
The words settled into his brain murmured before he distinguished them.
"And I want to stop him."
"And I want you stop him."
"And I want you to stop him."
His jaw dropped, his senses dimming, all sound gone from everything else. "You want me---to---to what?"
Dumbledore smiled. "You have ten hours. He is in his common room, packing. The portrait will let you in, I've already prepared this from last month. After all..." Dumbledore's smile grew sly within seconds. "You have that four week detention with Professor Snape for that unfortunate incident of ruining his classroom...and I am sure if you do this for me, I'd...be sure to expose my views on it...and perhaps he would be kind enough to let this go..."
"You---you, what?" Harry's eyes drooped in fear. "Professor, I---don't know- --"
Blackmail? What was this? Was this even Dumbledore speaking? What the hell, was going on?
Dumbledore had already turned around and began walking, then turned his head. "What don't you know?"
"How to---how to..." he stammered, not believing it true---not, not Dumbledore---he would not, ever, do this, not wise...not...not...
"Give him a reason to stay, Harry."
And with that twinkle in his eye so firm and glassy like a flawless eye from a barbie doll Dudley used to undress and rub against him, he turned around, his long robe flowing behind him, he left Harry Potter standing, a sixteen year old, ashen-faced boy who had dropped his books, and was gazing aimlessly at a figure that had already shadowed past.
"Draco Malfoy is leaving Hogwarts."
It was true---not a rumor. They had first seen him rush out of the Great Hall with that letter, that etched letter with the Malfoy name curled like a stamp throughout the white, and then, it came---in hesitant steps, Malfoy told one of the Slytherins he was leaving, and it spread---caressing every single curious student who listened, and every person who jumped and screamed of joy---and some who looked puzzled, and some girls who began crying, their arms hanging loosely over each other's shoulders.
The excitement lasted a week before they said they saw him packing after he paid a visit to Dumbledore---and everyone wanted to know what was being said, and why, exactly, he was leaving.
A relative? An emergency! His mother died! His father died! Oh, he must have a sister who's gotten raped. Oh no, it must be a hair emergency. Oh my God, he must be in one of those muggle gangs, they probably hired him because of his skin, oh they probably thought he was a skeleton ---the stories ran endlessly, and always odd, and everyone was laughing, screaming, making grotesque expressions at them all.
It was whispered throughout the halls in terrified, gleeful, and many more emotions mingled within the words, spoken, nonetheless, and Harry Potter heard it and his feet seemed to freeze in midstep. It was only when, deep in thought of what life would be like---with the ferret gone---Hermione, Ron, and him again, together, playing in the snow lack of the word mudblood and all the creases, flaws that had been thrown in---the thought of true happiness at last made him glow---until he raised his head and saw Dumbledore towering over him, right as he was exiting his History of Magics class, Hermione and Ron trotting behind him.
"Harry," Dumbledore said softly.
"Professor!" said a flustered Harry, stepping back a little. A shock, startled feeling fulfilled him at long last. "Sorry."
"Harry," Dumbledore said, with a shake of his head, the twinkle in his eye still growing everlasting. "I have a proposition for you."
"Um, but, um..." Harry said, words meaningless.
Dumbledore apparently did not want Hermione and Ron to hear what he was going to say. Harry glanced apologetically at them, and they waved a hasty goodbye before Hermione tugged forcefully at Ron's arm and pushed through the crowds.
Harry did not know how his legs took him, but somehow they managed to arrive at an vacant corner of the hallway.
"I shouldn't talk about this outside of my office," he said hastily, adjusting the glasses. Harry stared, disbelievingly. He had never seen Dumbledore so nervous before.
"But...I feel you only have ten hours, and, if he leaves..."
"Who leaves? Malfoy?" Harry asked, his lips parting halfway in awe.
Dumbledore gazed at him somberly. "Harry, you know the Death Eaters are planning to ...rule Hogwarts." A gentle smile tugged at his lips, as if to say, what a foolish thing to do.
"Yes," Harry said hurriedly.
"Well," Dumbledore, said pausing, "Draco has recieved an urgent dismissal note in which he is needed at home---of course, we both know that is truly not what it seems."
"Ah," Harry said in understanding. He had a unfounded urge to say, "and I give a fuck because?" but restrained himself.
"He has, of course, taken his father's place in the Death Eater circle." Dumbledore spoke gravely, a soft whisper after each and every single word parting from his tongue, studying him closely. Harry looked around, but it seemed everyone had already entered the Great Hall, and he could hear students chattering echoing from the distance of the hallways
Harry did not say a word. He could almost feel the tension between him and Dumbledore---Dumbledore's eyes seemed to be pleading in someway, and it shocked him beyond disbelief, charged his body into something entirely unusual---a chill foregone.
"And I want tostophimph."
The words settled into his brain murmured before he distinguished them.
"And I want to stop him."
"And I want you stop him."
"And I want you to stop him."
His jaw dropped, his senses dimming, all sound gone from everything else. "You want me---to---to what?"
Dumbledore smiled. "You have ten hours. He is in his common room, packing. The portrait will let you in, I've already prepared this from last month. After all..." Dumbledore's smile grew sly within seconds. "You have that four week detention with Professor Snape for that unfortunate incident of ruining his classroom...and I am sure if you do this for me, I'd...be sure to expose my views on it...and perhaps he would be kind enough to let this go..."
"You---you, what?" Harry's eyes drooped in fear. "Professor, I---don't know- --"
Blackmail? What was this? Was this even Dumbledore speaking? What the hell, was going on?
Dumbledore had already turned around and began walking, then turned his head. "What don't you know?"
"How to---how to..." he stammered, not believing it true---not, not Dumbledore---he would not, ever, do this, not wise...not...not...
"Give him a reason to stay, Harry."
And with that twinkle in his eye so firm and glassy like a flawless eye from a barbie doll Dudley used to undress and rub against him, he turned around, his long robe flowing behind him, he left Harry Potter standing, a sixteen year old, ashen-faced boy who had dropped his books, and was gazing aimlessly at a figure that had already shadowed past.