CHAPTER THREE
DIPPET´S TANTRUM
Weekend slipped by very quickly, and Gryffindor´s sixth year was on the way to Transfiguration. They all entered in, and were surprised to find that, for the first time ever, their teacher was not in the room yet.
They took their usual places and waited.
"Come on, Hermione!" begged Ron, taking Hermione´s parchment. "Just let me see your paper! I only need two more paragraphs!"
Hermione snatched her paper back.
"You had enough time to finish it, put you preferred to be practicing Quidditch", she said, frowning. "Why don´t you make something up? You always do".
"Do you know something, Hermione?", asked Ron, grinning. "When you frown, you look exactly like McGonagall".
"I don´t think she is coming", said Harry, suddenly.
Ron and Hermione stopped arguing and looked at him.
"How do you know?", asked Hermione.
Harry answered by directing his eyes to the entrance. Professor Dumbledore had just entered the room, looking extremely tired. He stepped beside the desk, and cleared his throat.
"Professor McGonagall is ill, so she will not be able to attend class", he declared, looking all of them through his half-moon spectacles. "Yes, Miss Granger?".
Hermione had raised her hand.
"What kind of illness?"
Dumbledore smiled feebly.
"Migraine. I am afraid Professor Snape accidentally gave her a very powerful sleeping draught insted of a remedy, so she has been asleep since Friday night. Hopefully she will regain consciousness before next Christmas", he added, smiling at his own hability to extract a joke out of the situation. "We expect she will wake up today or tomorrow, so you will have to endure me for that time, for I am yout substitute teacher".
Harry had never had a class with Dumbledore, but he was glad he was now having the chance, because he was an excellent teacher; he went to any lenght to ensure that they all understand the lesson, and if someone had a doubt, he would explain it again until it was all clear. Very different from McGonagall.
"Well, class is over", Dumbledore said, smiling. "You may go".
The all stood up and made for the door, but just as they were leaving, Professor Dumbledore called them.
"Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger. I would like to have a word with you".
Harry was about to leave. It was obvious it was a Prefect thing; he still felt a little jealous about not being a Prefect himself, but then he remembered Dumbledore´s words about not wanting to give him more burden to carry.
"And Mr. Potter, you may stay to. Your help can be valuable."
The three of them stayed there, until every Gryffindor was out. Then, Dumbledore motioned them to sit down.
"Where to begin?", he wondered, sitting in Professor McGonagall´s chair. "I am afraid I have not been completely honest with all of you. Professor McGonagall is indeed asleep, but it was no accident. I asked Severus to give her the sleeping potion, so that she would not be able to attend a meeting from the Order".
The three of the stared at him, completely nonplussed. Harry wondered why he was telling them this, when it was obvious it was kind of a more private thing. Dumbledore, however, seemed to have read their minds.
"You are probably wondering why am I telling you this", he said. "The main problem is that I have decided to ban Professor McGonagall from the Order".
"To ban her?" asked Hermione, bewildered. "But what on earth would guarantee that nonsense?".
"Is she a traitor?", spluttered Ron, before he could restrain himself.
Dumbledore seemed angry for a second, but when Harry blinked at looked at him for a second time, he just saw the same calm face.
"She is my most loyal friend, Mr. Weasley. Never a traitor", he said. "However, I would ask you not to talk to her about anything that may concern the order. It is for her and our own protection."
Hermione, however, was not convinced.
"But why have you banned her?".
Dumbledore sighed.
"Voldemort knows that by now everybody in the Wizarding world is aware of his return, and believe everything we have been telling for the past year. He will now be more flagrant, more open; he will not be afraid of presenting himself in public places, just to cause a disrupt. You must know that Professor McGonagall and Tom Riddle were very good friends. I fear for her life and our safety if he tries to force her to help him".
"McGonagall will never help You-Know-Who", said Ron.
"They were very good friends, Mr. Weasley. Just like you and Miss Granger", replied Dumbledore. "I will ask a favor from you; as Prefects, you have a little more contact with her than the rest of the students, so if you see something out of place... something strange about her, please let me know immediately".
The three of them nodded. Dumbledore smiled and went to the door; he opened it and his jaw fell. There was a cat in the threshold. A tabby cat.
"Minerva!", exclaimed Dumbledore. "You are awake. I must say I am very pleased to see you healthy again".
The cat vanished with a loud pop, and in its place, stood now Professor McGonagall.
"Tell me something, Albus", she hissed. "What do forty years mean to you?".
Dumbledore smiled tauntingly.
"Certainly a lot of time, my dear Professor".
"Forty years is the time I have been you friend, Albus, but for you that time is clearly not enough to let me know you have banned me from the Order, just because you think I may help my old friend Tom Riddle".
The room was completely silent now. Not even Dumbledore could utter a word. He was speechless.
"You have quite a good ear, my dear. The hearing of a cat. Unfortunately, I don´t believe we should discuss this in the presence of the youngsters, don´t you agree?".
Professor McGonagall was angry beyond belief, but it was obvious that she continued to be the same stern autority, so she beckoned the trio to exit the classroom.
"Potter, Granger, and Weasley, the lesson has ended. You have no bussiness here whatsoever".
Harry, Ron and Hermione were out of the room before they had time to even breathe again.
"Now, I must ask you to listen to the explanation of an old fool´s attempt to protect his dearest friend", said Dumbledore, once the door had closed ad the steps were faint.
Professor McGonagall stepped back, completely disgusted.
"I don´t want to hear you, Albus Dumbledore. For the first time of my life, I prefer not to listen to you, for nothing that you can say will erase what you just did to me".
Dumbledore took her hands.
"What if I tell you that I was just thinking of you... of your own protection?"
"My own protection?", she repeated even angrier, if that was possible. "Why, do you think I cannot make a choice? Do you think that when I see Riddle again I will tell him everything? He is a dark wizard, Dumbledore, not my dearest friend, as you have put it so gingerly".
Albus even resented the tone of her voice; never the sound of his surname had seemed so horrible than in that moment. He was by now accostumed to be called by her "Albus" and not "Dumbledore"; he remembered now just how many years he spent trying to persuade her to stop addressing him by his last name, and now it was clear they had lost that confidence.
"Well, I suppose that is because I am your dearest friend now", he said, smiling. "Aren´t I?".
Professor McGonagall folded her arms. "Please don´t joke, Dumbledore. Not now. It is the last thing I need, I assure you".
"What you need to understand, Minerva, is that Voldemort surely knows you are one of my most faithful supporters. He may see you as a breach in the Order´s security".
"He has not seen me for the past sixteen years. You are well aware of that, because you had done everything to prevent it".
Dumbledore slowly shook his head.
"You had a very strong link with him; I doubt that link has already dissolved. It probably never will, and he knows it".
Her nostrils flared. "You have quite a nice way of calling things when you don´t want to name them by a term that displeases you", she said, pursing her lips. "The word link´, completely proves my theory".
"Why, do you prefer him to use the right word, McGonagall?".
Both of them turned their gazes. In the space between the blackboard and the corner was a portrait of Morgana Le Fey, who was furious because another character had entered her realm; Armando Dippet had left his usual place at Dumbledore´s office and seemed to be invading portraits that were close to any discussion.
"Armando, we appreciate privacy, so if you would please return to my quarters I would consider it a personal favor".
Professor McGonagall walked to the portrait. "What is the right word, Professor Dippet?".
The former Headmaster raised an eyebrow. "Why, you should know it better than I do. After all, you were Riddle´s mistress".
"That will do, Armando!", said Dumbledore, in a rather harsh way, standing beside his Deputy.
"Get out of my picture, you...!", cried Morgana Le Fey, but Armando Dippet just ignored her.
"You know, I almost died again when you chose her to be your Deputy, Albus", he snarled. "Her! Among all the others you had to choose Voldemort´s woman! She may even become Headmistress! Now, that would be a shame!"
Dumbledore seemed too be struggling not to break the picture. "She is a brilliant woman, an outstanding teacher and a skilled witch. I don´t care if she was his...".
"But you made her your friend, also!", Dippet shouted, as if he were denouncing a terrible crime. "And not only your friend, but your confidant! She knows more about you than anybody else! I told you she could betray you if he returned! Now he has returned and you are seeing danger!".
Professor McGonagall was eyeing him closely. "You hate me, don´t you?", she whispered. "You hate me because my mother always refused you".
Dippet seemed to take a step back. "You liar...".
"So I am a liar now, aren´t I?", she snarled back. "Have you forgotten her? You always fancied her. Al least once a week you visited the Ministry of Magic so you could get a glimpse of her. I don´t blame you, she was bright and astonishing, but she already had a family. You must have made the worst tantrum of your life when you found out; I guess you just vowed to deliver hell to her children if they ever came to Hogwarts, and you have been doing it ever since, haven´t you?".
Armando Dippet was completely taken aback by her words, and so was Dumbledore. Neither of them could utter a word.
"Haven´t you, Dippet?", cried Professor McGonagall.
Dippet bared his teeth. "She could have had everything she wanted. There was nothing in this world I would have denied her, but she preferred to remain with that useless Squib. Did he helped when she was killed?".
"Come on, Minerva. We must get out of here", said Dumbledore, taking her by the shoulders and directing her to the door. "It has been enough, Armando. You should be ashamed".
They exited the classroom, but Armando didn´t quit. He rushed out of Morgana´s portrait and run into another one, in the corridor, a few meters away from them.
"And have you forgotten who killed your mother, McGonagall?".
"That´s enough, Armando!", shouted Dumbledore, walking faster, but the former Headmaster started to run from portrait to portrait.
"She was killed by your lover, McGonagall!", he cried, at the top of his lungs. "And who your despicable lover was? None other than Lord Voldem... !".
Dumbledore had taken his wand and directed a curse to the portrait that held Dippet in that moment. The picture exploded right in front of them, but it was already too late; at least twenty Hufflepuffs were exiting from one classroom to the corridor. By the look on their faces, it was clear they had seen and heard the last part of the discussion.
Dumbledore let go of Professor McGonagall and walked slowly to them, every wrinkle in his face irradiating a cold anger.
"If one of you dares to repeat what you just heard or saw, you will be all preparing your trunks before you can say "sherbet lemon". Is that clear?".
The all nodded instantly, not daring to blink, staring at him.
"Good", he said smiling, as it had never happened. "Now go to your next class".
All of them obliged, not because of his words, but rather because of his gaze. A cold gaze that reflected nothing of that kind man who always wore a smile. When they were all gone, he turned to face his Deputy, but she was not standing there anymore. Instead, he noticed a tabby cat running down a staircaise.