Welcome back, everyone! And welcome to Year 4 - the year that gave this story an existential crisis! (this is what I get for having no beta.)
Had a nice holiday in Europe. Got to see Alan Menken and a bunch of Broadway/West End stars perform live (if Melissa was a real person, she'd be hella jealous.) A part of me wanted to put this chapter off for another week since I'm recovering from food poisoning, but I figured the wait has been long enough. So let's get started!
The Sadistic World of School Schedules
September 1st, 1992
For the entire drive over to Kings Cross Station Melissa danced in her seat. Harry sat between her and Sirius, entirely amused as she broke out into song.
"We gotta get back to Hogwarts
We gotta get back to school
We gotta get ourselves to Hogwarts
Where everything is magi-cool!
"Back to witches and wizards and magical beasts
To goblins and ghosts and to magical feasts
It's all that I love
And it's all that I need
At Hogwarts
Hogwarts
I think we're going back!"
"You're really excited to get back." Sirius chuckled.
"Of course I'm excited! It's been ages and my wand's been aching to be used!"
"We got to use our wands during our defence lessons." Harry pointed out.
"Lessons don't count!" She groused. "Where's the charm?! The spark?! The sound of Weasleys falling prey to a well-planned prank?!"
"In your den, two weeks ago."
Melissa turned to face Harry, her frown meeting his teasing smile head-on. "Cheeky brat." A prompt flick to the nose ended that, only to start a minor brawl of pokes, flicks, and tickles for the rest of the ride.
Despite their minor brawl, the rest of their departure was unaccosted. The group of five arrived at Platform 9 ¾ with enough time for hearty goodbyes. From there, the children boarded the train and split off to find their respective yearmates. Hours later they arrived at Hogsmeade station, boarded thestral carriages, and settled themselves at Hogwarts' Great Hall for the Opening Feast. Best of all, every re-attending student was present and accounted for.
What a lovely, unexpected change from canon.
"I can't believe we get to be taught by Gilderoy Lockhart!" A third-year girl swooned. A collection of fawning sighs followed suit.
Ah, well, you can't win them all.
Melissa smiled knowingly as the girls flustered amongst themselves over the fraudster in chief. How long will their adoration last, she wondered. A fortnight? A month? Maybe if the man takes Mister Salvatore's advice he'll make it until the end of first term. Though it was the NEWT and OWL students who will likely catch on the quickest that their new DADA professor has no talent or ability at demonstrating the magic they need to learn to pass their exams.
Eventually she let that thought train slide. Focusing, instead, on the sorting ceremony, then later tucking into her meal without a care. Everything about the day felt positively normal in a way that compared to her first two years at Hogwarts. ...Up until a prefect approached her in the common room with a summons to Dumbledore's office.
"In trouble already?" Rusalka balked at the news. Her friends showed similar surprise.
"Apparently." Melissa muttered. Nevertheless, she offered them all a pained smile as she followed the prefect to the door. "If I die, avenge me!" She shouted. The girls gave nervous chuckles at the remark, though they couldn't help but wonder if their jokester friend could possibly be serious this time?
"Sherbert lemon?"
"No, thank you."
"Very well. Have a seat, Miss Bennett."
Melissa sat gently onto the chair. Her eyes glue themselves to his beard, focused intently on avoiding eye contact. Trying all the while not to accidentally barf up the evening feast out of sheer nervousness.
"I trust your summer was a restful one?"
"Yes, sir." She muttered meekly.
Dumbledore hummed at the response. A short, thoughtful moment passed. "I take it that your occlumency training still needs work, yes?"
The witch visibly flinched at the question. How did he… oh. Snape, and where I'm staring. I suppose it's obvious. "I'll get it, in time."
"I am glad to hear it." He replied jovially. The tone surprised her. Then again, sometimes it's hard to guess what this man could be thinking. "Now, now, there's no need to be so nervous, Miss Bennett. I truly am grateful that you are learning how to protect yourself. After what occurred last term with Voldemort it would have been a terrible risk had he been able to read your thoughts."
The comment startled her. In all of these months she never even considered the possibility of Voldemort trying to read her mind! Then again, had he even tried? She had no way of knowing for sure. All that said and done, he wasn't the only legilimens in need of watching out for.
"That's… a good point."
"Indeed. That said, I find it would be in your best interests to improve yourself further. It is wonderfully academic that you apply yourself to the study of ancient runes and arithmancy. Though, I cannot help but wonder why those are the only classes you've chosen to take?"
Something akin to panic raced through her heart. "...I don't follow."
"Plenty of other academically-inclined students in your year signed up for three classes. Divination, for example, is a fascinating field of study."
Fuck! Fuck! What the ever-loving shit?! Fuck! He knows! He knows! He knows!
"-Forgive me for saying this, professor, but isn't divination more of an 'easy-O' class?"
Though focused on his beard, her periphery noticed the twitch of a smile. "Perhaps for some. Those with the right instinct for the field certainly excel in it." On the inside, she was screaming. Outside, though, she kept silent as he continued. "Perhaps you can find a similar ease? If so, Miss Bennett, I would advise you to take the class this year. An extra O for your future OWLs, if you will."
Melissa forced her vocal chords into some form of protest. "I'd be a year behind."
"That won't be an issue." He slid a piece of parchment across his desk towards her. Melissa accepted the item, a schedule, reading it with dread as he continued. "The third year course is scheduled during what would have been your free period. As an 'easy-O' -by your words- I'm sure you can work through the material quick enough that you can advance to the fourth year course which is, quite conveniently, also a free period for you."
It was all there, a plan neatly arranged in black and white. Third and fourth year divination classes blocking her schedule full, as if mocking her for her previous manipulations. A sudden anger surged over the fear, bubbling hot like lava threatening to break loose. But she can't. Not in front of him. Instead she closed her eyes, willing herself to breathe in and out slowly. Channelling her emotions to slow with each exhaling through her nostrils. The bubbling receded, leaving them to simmer -present, but silent.
It was amazing that the headmaster fell equally silent as she arranged her thoughts. "Professor Dumbledore, while I acknowledge the… effort you put into this, I don't think you put my own feelings into account."
"Which are?" He asked gently.
He already knows! I can't bullshit about studies. What else can I say? FUCK! "If I had wanted to take divination, I would have signed up for it last year. But I didn't and I don't. I don't want to sit in a cramped class choking on incense. I don't want to listen to a drunk making half-baked, dramatic predictions about doom at every class. I don't want…" She shuddered a breath. "I don't want to sit- in a room- full of people- that believe in divination!"
The headmaster caught on clear enough. "You don't want them to believe?"
"I don't want them to know!" She stated, her anger bubbling once again. "If this were last year, people would be suspicious, at least. How do you think they'd feel this year if I suddenly took the class with a bunch of third years? They won't need to think. They'll know! I might as well stand on the rooftops and shout it to the world for all this schedule says about me!"
It was with marvelling audacity that Dumbledore counted her argument. "I believe your fears are being blown out of proportion, Miss Bennett. This class is the best course of action for fostering your gifts. I am sure that any rumours on the matter won't result in any need for distress."
Her jaw clenched tight. "...Forgive me if I don't believe you."
Despite the noise of the office enchantments, an eerie silence fell between the two of them. For Albus, it wasn't so much the girl's reluctance on the matter. After what Severues had told him, he was aware that Bennett fears the future and the knowledge she possesses. What surprised him, though, was the sheer and utter hatred that echoed in that last retort. It was a swirl of vicious energy, the likes of which he has only seen from Gellert and Voldemort's followers. From those people, he could understand their hate; but from a child?
The thought delivered him to a year's past, at the trial of Petunia and Vernon Dursley. There, Bennett's vicious hatred came in full force against the Dursleys. It was thunderous and crude; but against the horrors of child abuse, it was also perfectly acceptable. Even though, at the time, he had decided to defend against a prison sentence for Petunia in order to keep Harry Potter safe inside the blood wards, Albus had admired the show of friendship and loyalty, and truly did feel guilty over the pain the boy had suffered in the past ten years.
Now, however, Albus found himself faced with a sudden sense of regret. Has he really fallen so hard to deserve such distrust? To be treated with the same loathing as one would a child abuser? Unable to even make eye contact with the child in front of him due to a fear that he will try to invade her thoughts? Perhaps… Perhaps he has fallen, a touch.
It was with a sullen sigh that he at last broke the silence. "Dear girl, what would it take to rekindle your faith in me?" Her reaction disturbed him. Instead of anger or even some trace of consideration, her face fixed with a certain haughty confusion. With his ability to read minds (and faces) the expression could have only one meaning. "Ah, you never had much faith in me, did you?"
It was more of a statement than a question. Though he felt somewhat irritated at how the girl shrugged dismissively before answering. "It's hard to have faith in someone when you get a vision that they're going to erase the memory of the abused child you're in the middle of saving."
The comment surprised Albus. He found himself in a rare position of being stunned into silence. Though he found that it benefited him as the girl, still determined to avoid his eyes, continued on with harsh and dismissive body language.
"Do you have any idea what it's like to be in the process of helping someone, only to realize that someone's going to swoop in and put a stop to it? -Scratch that- What it's like to be a nine year old child, learning that magic exists and you're a witch; but, instead of getting a moment to sit down and process all of that, you instead have to worry that an adult wizard can -and will- erase the memories of you, your loved ones, and the kid you're trying to help?" The girl gave a mirthless laugh, and smacked her cupped hands together in mock prayer. "It's actually impressive what I had to do to make sure we all survived that! I had to beg my family to get child services to keep our names off record so that you couldn't find us! I had to make this ridiculous, innocuous sounding letter for Harry and made him promise to hide it so he could find us again. Hell, I wrote letters to myself and hid them around the house in case you somehow managed to find me! And when all that was done my family and I had to spend the next four years in fucking silence, holding ourselves back from really helping this half-starved boy, in fear of some wizard showing up to wipe our minds! And, now, after spending years with the fallout -of having to sit back and just… 'hope for the best', you're asking me what you can do for me to trust you?!"
The young witch's form twisted in coils of anger and anguish. At the sight, Albus's own form was crestfallen. There was something terribly heartbreaking about the girl's confession. A seer's gift is a terrible burden. In all his years he saw how it weighed down on others. On Gellert. On Sybill. To see this child go through that same anguish, Albus could not help but feel some level of shame at being part of the source of that burden.
"I would like to try." He responded quietly, earnestly, hoping against hope that his words would reach the pained seer.
A slight shift breached onto her body language. The smallest hint of contemplation. It waved into frustration, then again to the previous. A war of decision-making that gave Albus a sense of hope.
"...Then can I ask you a question?" She asked quietly, her eyes downcast in contemplation.
"You may." He nodded. A gentle smile bloomed on his face.
"Last year, for the first years, why did Hufflepuff have their potions class with Slytherin?"
The smile fell to a ponderous expression. Such an odd question for anyone to ask. He wasn't even sure what to make of it. "That's simply how we scheduled it."
At once her eyes fixed against him, cold and steely and seething. "And, like that, you've lost me." She pushed out of the chair. It grated roughly against the floor, nearly muffling her next words. "If you'll excuse me, Headmaster, I would like to be in bed by curfew."
"Of- of course." Though bewildered by the sudden change, he allowed the girl to go. How did the conversation end so poorly? Her question seemed so innocuous that the harsh reaction to his answer appeared entirely irrational.
It wasn't until later, as he lay down in bed for the night, that he finally recalled exactly where he was at this time, last year, to the day. He had been at his desk, making last minute changes to the first year's schedules, exchanging Gryffindor with Hufflepuff. All to ensure Severus' negative opinion of Harry Potter would be reported back to Malfoy, Nott, and the other unprisoned Death Eaters. That was why she asked! Why it seemed so important. Bennett knows about Severus!
Severus is right. He realized with dread. Bennett's secrets are far too dangerous to be revealed.
The next morning, after getting their class schedules, Harry walked over to Melly's spot at the Slytherin table with a teasing smile. "Guess who has DADA today?"
"Both of us, judging by your question." She answered. Melly half-heartedly switched schedules with him, and he grimaced on her behalf.
"Double DADA first thing?"
"I know. Atrocious, isn't it?"
Harry shrugged. "Could be worse. My Friday is painful!"
"I can see that. Charms, two off periods, transfiguration, and then astronomy. Hell of a tease for a Friday to have."
"It's completely evil!"
"Heh, Welcome to the sadistic world of school schedules, kid." She patted him on the back. "You know, I have today's third period off. Wanna ditch History of Magic and go for a swim?"
He rolled his eyes in opposition to the mischievous grin. "I'm not cutting class on the first day, Melly; or any day, for that matter."
"Pfft! Nerd." They stuck their tongues out at each other.
Then, with a chuckle, Harry shook his head and gestured to switch back their schedules. "I still can't believe you have so many off periods. How do you even plan something like that?"
"What can I say Harry," she winked, "I'm just that brilliant!"