A/N Thanks again to Maria for taking the time to beta this.
The first few segments of this chapter all take place at relatively the same time, it's just a difference of what each character happens to notice. In the last segment of this chapter, Dippet is the one that does all the speaking.
Also, I don't do well writing poems or rhymes so in this story the Sorting Hat may come across as something of a disappointment. For the purposes of this story, the Sorting Hat only has seven songs and recycles through them. This allows for a different song for each of the seven years a student would spend at Hogwarts, but means some of the faculty and staff have heard the same renditions many times. The songs that Harry and company have heard in the future would be the same ones that Dippet has heard for years and quotes from.
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Professor Tofty glanced over to the Slytherin table just in time to see the little 'muggle-born' flick and swish her wand. After seeing a single leg of chicken float through the air, he gave a cry of triumph.
"By Jove, now she's done it!"
##################################
Robert Binns grumbled to himself while using his fork to stab his mashed potato Shackleton voodoo figurine. A quick look to the Head Table at the still healthy Deputy Headmaster dashed his faith in alternative magics.
Still, he helped himself to another portion of potatoes and began work on a model of the Headmaster. Imagine the audacity of the man! Assigning him to sit at one of the kiddy tables!
His outrage increased as one of the boys across from him began to cough. Binns discovered upon looking up at the perpetrator that the boy wasn't even covering his mouth as he coughed.
This was completely beneath him.
Binns pierced the boy with his most disgusted look. "Stop it!"
When this did nothing to stop the boy, Binns had a horrifying revelation. The boy wasn't merely coughing, he was choking.
"You stop that this instant! There will be no choking at the dinner table! I said stop it! Five points from Slytherin! Ten! Twenty!"
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The boy was slowly dying. Not knowing what else to do, Alastor Moody shook the girl harshly, trying to break her concentration.
"Make it stop!"
The girl hissed in response but still kept her mind concentrated enough to continue choking the boy across from her. With time in short supply and no better idea in mind, Moody released one shoulder. He pulled his hand back, preparing to strike her open handed across the face when an unseen force grabbed and twisted his hand behind his back. Moody lost his grip on the girl as the force slammed him into the table.
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Kevric Kettleburn looked from the Head Table's slightly elevated platform down at the commotion that was going on at the Slytherin table. Seeing that Binns was the only teacher near the incident, he rose and quickly made his way closer.
He could not quite, but he could almost understand why all the children were just staring at the choking boy. And Binns, being well Binns, was taking points from the boy for choking rather than do anything useful. But he would have thought a trained auror would have had enough sense to take action.
When Kettleburn was almost to the table, he saw the auror stand and take totally inappropriate action. If it weren't for the bright blue hue of the boy, Kettleburn knew he would surely be making his way to pound on someone else. It seemed Tom Riddle was having similar ideas.
After two sharp blows to the back, a chicken bone flew out of the choking boy's mouth.
######################################
"Don't you ever touch her again!"
Alastor Moody turned to discover the unseen force that had struck him had a voice, that of Tom Riddle. Riddle again held the child in an effort to sooth her hissing. As a chicken bone flew across the table he realized the choking had been caused not by any action on the little girl's part, but by the boy's laughing or lack of chewing or a combination of both.
The awfulness of what he had almost just done hit him full force. He extended a hand while attempting to stutter out an apology. The girl again began hissing at him and the Riddle boy repeated his warning.
"Don't you ever touch her again!"
Now that the choking boy was no longer choking, the Magical Creatures professor turned on him angrily as well. "What the devil did you think you were doing?"
The other professor, the very aged looking one, added his own appalled words. "Much as we would all like to, Dippet doesn't actually allow us to hit the children!"
Moody again tried to stammer out an explanation. "I thought she was the one causing the choking." He turned to the old man looking for corroboration. "Someone yelled that she did it! You were yelling at her too! You said, 'There will be no choking at the dinner table!' You took House points away from her!"
The young professor, Kettleburn, was the one to respond. He seemed to think his few angry words explained everything. "For Merlin's sake, this is Binns you're talking about!"
Moody shook his head uncomprehendingly so the young professor again spoke to explain. "Binns was probably taking points off the boy for choking."
Moody shook his head in disbelief until the old professor's next shocked words.
"You mean…you mean she did it? She made the boy choke? Oh my!" The old professor's eyes grew quite large and he took a step away from the girl. As the Headmaster finally succeeded in making his way over, Binns attempted to stand behind him to remain out of the girl's line of vision.
Moody showed all the remorse that he felt as the Headmaster fixed him with a most disappointed look before addressing the group.
"This has been a most traumatic experience for Miss McGonagall. Master Binns and Mr. Riddle, please escort her back to her rooms. Mr. Moody, I would speak to you in my office."
Watching the girl being escorted out, as horrible as he felt about what had happened or almost happened, Moody couldn't help but feel as if he were being played. After all, he wasn't deaf. He could hear the 'most traumatized' girl's concerns as Riddle carried her off.
"But we have not had the sugar course yet! And my quills are still on the table! I need my quills!"
Kettleburn didn't seem to notice how unphased the girl was by the experience. He chose to 'help' escort Moody to Dippet's office. On the journey, Kettleburn made certain Moody knew exactly what he thought of him. Moody might have pointed out what Kettleburn had missed were the man's words, not exactly how he felt about himself at that moment.
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Armando Dippet looked at the auror seated before him in his office. Alastor Moody was not so young as he once was, but he was still quite young. Even now with the quite irate Master Kettleburn no longer in the region to berate the auror, Moody still looked ashamed. But then, with Mr. Moody's reaction today, there was every reason to look guilty.
Master Kettleburn wanted the young auror's actions to be brought to the attention of the Minister. Master Kettleburn was far too simple of a man. He expected everything and everyone to be as straightforward and honest as the creatures he spent most of his days with. Master Kettleburn could not yet grasp the concept that rather than upbraid the auror, the Minister was more likely to commend him for his actions.
No, relaying the incident to the Minister would not have any useful effect. But perhaps, perhaps something useful could come from the incident after all. By this incident and his earlier words, it was becoming increasingly clear that Mr. Moody firmly believed the prophecies Foretold by Artemisia. And it would seem Mr. Moody also believed in the lie Grindelwald had told. Perhaps he could help Mr. Moody realize something of the part which he was to have in all this.
"Mr. Moody, you do understand the reason behind Artemisia's predictions and why there was no prediction for you?"
What he asked was a question, but it was one to which he already knew the answer. Without waiting for the auror's response, he gently continued.
"Grindelwald lied when he said Artemisia did not think you were important enough to bother with. You play quite an important part in what is to come."
Despite the auror's lack of visible or audible reaction, Dippet knew his words were being heard, but not accepted.
"What you must understand, Mr. Moody, is that Artemisia was hateful and cruel. She despised every one of us. Her one great delight in life was spreading misery and despair. Her predictions were meant to inflict upon us the most injury conceivable."
Again Dippet paused to consider the young man before him. He could vaguely recall the young man's Sorting Ceremony years ago.
Often Dippet wondered if Gryffindor and the other Founders would have reconsidered the way they divided the student population if they knew the labels that would come to persist amongst their Houses. While Rowena Ravenclaw might be pleased to have her students pigeonholed as the cleverest, what of the others?
Salazar Slytherin's chosen ones were seen to be ruthless and inscrutable, overly determined, seeking to acquire their wants irregardless of the consequences for others. Gryffindor's were thought of for their courage, but it was mocked by the other Houses as a fool's daring. Most looked down upon of all were the Hufflepuffs. True they were paragons of justness and loyalty, but what stood out the most was the idea that the Hufflepuffs were merely what was unwanted, left over after the other three had had their fill.
'Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest.' Those six words spoken by the Sorting Hat made it so ever after those of the Hufflepuff House had a need to prove themselves. Left with the image of being neither particularly clever, nor determined, nor brave, Hufflepuffs worked tirelessly, needing to be twice as good, twice as clever and cunning and brave as all the rest.
Dippet could see all of those doubts and insecurities in the young former Hufflepuff seated before him. Oh, there was loyalty, particularly to Dumbledore, and a strong sense of justice in the idealistic young man as well. That Artemisia too had seen all those things, Dippet had no doubt. By seeming to exclude Mr. Moody, she had aimed to exploit those insecurities.
"Mr. Moody, the prophecies were left to influence, to encourage each of us on the path to our own destruction and despair. That there was no prophecy left for you does not signify that you are not important. It merely signifies that Artemisia believed that not leaving you one would do more to hasten you on that path than anything she could say."
That Dippet knew that the warning of his next words was one he had himself already several times failed to heed with the child, did not stop him from offering the same advice to Mr. Moody.
"These things that Artemisia has said about he child, they are not yet true. I will not deny that they may become true, but I believe if they are to become, it is to be because of us, because of our own responses to the child. It is important to remember, though Artemisia was cruel and dare I say it, evil, this girl is merely a child and still readily open to influence."
Dippet sighed inwardly as Mr. Moody took his leave. He feared his words had not had upon the other man the desired effect. Left alone, Dippet settled back into his chair to yet again remember the choice words Artemisia had left for him.
'You will not live to see the day all your work will come to naught, but unrest assured, the day will come.'
The meaning of Artemisia's words was, at least to him, quite clear. 'Your work' referred to his attempts to alter the events he had Seen, to prevent the slaughter of all those people. That it would 'come to naught' meant all his efforts were to be in vain. Despite any effort he might make, the girl's future was to be resolute, unyielding. 'You will not live to see the day' indicated he would be dead before the event finally occurred. 'Unrest assured, the day will come' was merely Artemisia further taunting him with her certainty that the event would occur.
The possible interpretations of Artemisia's offering to Dumbledore were more numerous and more complex.
'Kill the girl, Minerva, while she is still young. If you do not, she will one day have the power to destroy you. Before it is all done, you will kneel before her begging for life. If your plea is answered, you can expect to spend the remainder of your life in bondage and servitude to her and her line. She will have dominion over all that you hold dear.'
Dippet was about to once again consider the meaning, to dissect the words referencing Dumbledore but instead his sight settled upon the vials within his partially open desk drawer. Pocketing one, he made his way up the staircase to his private rooms and the brief respite that the vial could offer.
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A/N I had said that I planned to have this series of flashbacks resolved by Christmas or at the latest New Years. At the moment, that is not looking likely. When I said that, I had planned to be posting up a new chapter each day, but I have been holding back a bit on posting and writing given a lack of feedback. It seems from the lack of responses that most people have stopped reading. I will continue to post the next few chapters in the hopes that people have just been busy with the end of the school year or the holidays, but if interest doesn't pick up then I will be ending the story shortly and trying my hand at something else.
Thank you to those who have reviewed: Zeo, CEA, and Margo Wulfric x 2.
Margo (36)The shorter chapters are because I think they are easier to digest. The few long chapters were because I had a lot of information I needed to get out and couldn't find a really convenient place to break the story. I've since taken to just adding in the breaks regardless.
(Chapter 35) Sorry I missed your review, it went up just as I was posting the next chapter. Dippet's character is a series of contrasts. He is one of those people that knows better than to do something, but can't help himself and does it anyways. Despite this story being a serialized fan fiction, I am writing it more in the form of a novel intended to be read in a few sittings. Things and people that don't quite make sense at first should begin to make more sense as you go along. If Dippet's words and actions, as well as his thoughts in the scenes he narrates, seem disjointed or in contrast with each other than perhaps there is a reason, something being slightly hinted at but not yet clear to the reader.
The first few segments of this chapter all take place at relatively the same time, it's just a difference of what each character happens to notice. In the last segment of this chapter, Dippet is the one that does all the speaking.
Also, I don't do well writing poems or rhymes so in this story the Sorting Hat may come across as something of a disappointment. For the purposes of this story, the Sorting Hat only has seven songs and recycles through them. This allows for a different song for each of the seven years a student would spend at Hogwarts, but means some of the faculty and staff have heard the same renditions many times. The songs that Harry and company have heard in the future would be the same ones that Dippet has heard for years and quotes from.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Professor Tofty glanced over to the Slytherin table just in time to see the little 'muggle-born' flick and swish her wand. After seeing a single leg of chicken float through the air, he gave a cry of triumph.
"By Jove, now she's done it!"
##################################
Robert Binns grumbled to himself while using his fork to stab his mashed potato Shackleton voodoo figurine. A quick look to the Head Table at the still healthy Deputy Headmaster dashed his faith in alternative magics.
Still, he helped himself to another portion of potatoes and began work on a model of the Headmaster. Imagine the audacity of the man! Assigning him to sit at one of the kiddy tables!
His outrage increased as one of the boys across from him began to cough. Binns discovered upon looking up at the perpetrator that the boy wasn't even covering his mouth as he coughed.
This was completely beneath him.
Binns pierced the boy with his most disgusted look. "Stop it!"
When this did nothing to stop the boy, Binns had a horrifying revelation. The boy wasn't merely coughing, he was choking.
"You stop that this instant! There will be no choking at the dinner table! I said stop it! Five points from Slytherin! Ten! Twenty!"
############################################
The boy was slowly dying. Not knowing what else to do, Alastor Moody shook the girl harshly, trying to break her concentration.
"Make it stop!"
The girl hissed in response but still kept her mind concentrated enough to continue choking the boy across from her. With time in short supply and no better idea in mind, Moody released one shoulder. He pulled his hand back, preparing to strike her open handed across the face when an unseen force grabbed and twisted his hand behind his back. Moody lost his grip on the girl as the force slammed him into the table.
#########################################
Kevric Kettleburn looked from the Head Table's slightly elevated platform down at the commotion that was going on at the Slytherin table. Seeing that Binns was the only teacher near the incident, he rose and quickly made his way closer.
He could not quite, but he could almost understand why all the children were just staring at the choking boy. And Binns, being well Binns, was taking points from the boy for choking rather than do anything useful. But he would have thought a trained auror would have had enough sense to take action.
When Kettleburn was almost to the table, he saw the auror stand and take totally inappropriate action. If it weren't for the bright blue hue of the boy, Kettleburn knew he would surely be making his way to pound on someone else. It seemed Tom Riddle was having similar ideas.
After two sharp blows to the back, a chicken bone flew out of the choking boy's mouth.
######################################
"Don't you ever touch her again!"
Alastor Moody turned to discover the unseen force that had struck him had a voice, that of Tom Riddle. Riddle again held the child in an effort to sooth her hissing. As a chicken bone flew across the table he realized the choking had been caused not by any action on the little girl's part, but by the boy's laughing or lack of chewing or a combination of both.
The awfulness of what he had almost just done hit him full force. He extended a hand while attempting to stutter out an apology. The girl again began hissing at him and the Riddle boy repeated his warning.
"Don't you ever touch her again!"
Now that the choking boy was no longer choking, the Magical Creatures professor turned on him angrily as well. "What the devil did you think you were doing?"
The other professor, the very aged looking one, added his own appalled words. "Much as we would all like to, Dippet doesn't actually allow us to hit the children!"
Moody again tried to stammer out an explanation. "I thought she was the one causing the choking." He turned to the old man looking for corroboration. "Someone yelled that she did it! You were yelling at her too! You said, 'There will be no choking at the dinner table!' You took House points away from her!"
The young professor, Kettleburn, was the one to respond. He seemed to think his few angry words explained everything. "For Merlin's sake, this is Binns you're talking about!"
Moody shook his head uncomprehendingly so the young professor again spoke to explain. "Binns was probably taking points off the boy for choking."
Moody shook his head in disbelief until the old professor's next shocked words.
"You mean…you mean she did it? She made the boy choke? Oh my!" The old professor's eyes grew quite large and he took a step away from the girl. As the Headmaster finally succeeded in making his way over, Binns attempted to stand behind him to remain out of the girl's line of vision.
Moody showed all the remorse that he felt as the Headmaster fixed him with a most disappointed look before addressing the group.
"This has been a most traumatic experience for Miss McGonagall. Master Binns and Mr. Riddle, please escort her back to her rooms. Mr. Moody, I would speak to you in my office."
Watching the girl being escorted out, as horrible as he felt about what had happened or almost happened, Moody couldn't help but feel as if he were being played. After all, he wasn't deaf. He could hear the 'most traumatized' girl's concerns as Riddle carried her off.
"But we have not had the sugar course yet! And my quills are still on the table! I need my quills!"
Kettleburn didn't seem to notice how unphased the girl was by the experience. He chose to 'help' escort Moody to Dippet's office. On the journey, Kettleburn made certain Moody knew exactly what he thought of him. Moody might have pointed out what Kettleburn had missed were the man's words, not exactly how he felt about himself at that moment.
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Armando Dippet looked at the auror seated before him in his office. Alastor Moody was not so young as he once was, but he was still quite young. Even now with the quite irate Master Kettleburn no longer in the region to berate the auror, Moody still looked ashamed. But then, with Mr. Moody's reaction today, there was every reason to look guilty.
Master Kettleburn wanted the young auror's actions to be brought to the attention of the Minister. Master Kettleburn was far too simple of a man. He expected everything and everyone to be as straightforward and honest as the creatures he spent most of his days with. Master Kettleburn could not yet grasp the concept that rather than upbraid the auror, the Minister was more likely to commend him for his actions.
No, relaying the incident to the Minister would not have any useful effect. But perhaps, perhaps something useful could come from the incident after all. By this incident and his earlier words, it was becoming increasingly clear that Mr. Moody firmly believed the prophecies Foretold by Artemisia. And it would seem Mr. Moody also believed in the lie Grindelwald had told. Perhaps he could help Mr. Moody realize something of the part which he was to have in all this.
"Mr. Moody, you do understand the reason behind Artemisia's predictions and why there was no prediction for you?"
What he asked was a question, but it was one to which he already knew the answer. Without waiting for the auror's response, he gently continued.
"Grindelwald lied when he said Artemisia did not think you were important enough to bother with. You play quite an important part in what is to come."
Despite the auror's lack of visible or audible reaction, Dippet knew his words were being heard, but not accepted.
"What you must understand, Mr. Moody, is that Artemisia was hateful and cruel. She despised every one of us. Her one great delight in life was spreading misery and despair. Her predictions were meant to inflict upon us the most injury conceivable."
Again Dippet paused to consider the young man before him. He could vaguely recall the young man's Sorting Ceremony years ago.
Often Dippet wondered if Gryffindor and the other Founders would have reconsidered the way they divided the student population if they knew the labels that would come to persist amongst their Houses. While Rowena Ravenclaw might be pleased to have her students pigeonholed as the cleverest, what of the others?
Salazar Slytherin's chosen ones were seen to be ruthless and inscrutable, overly determined, seeking to acquire their wants irregardless of the consequences for others. Gryffindor's were thought of for their courage, but it was mocked by the other Houses as a fool's daring. Most looked down upon of all were the Hufflepuffs. True they were paragons of justness and loyalty, but what stood out the most was the idea that the Hufflepuffs were merely what was unwanted, left over after the other three had had their fill.
'Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest.' Those six words spoken by the Sorting Hat made it so ever after those of the Hufflepuff House had a need to prove themselves. Left with the image of being neither particularly clever, nor determined, nor brave, Hufflepuffs worked tirelessly, needing to be twice as good, twice as clever and cunning and brave as all the rest.
Dippet could see all of those doubts and insecurities in the young former Hufflepuff seated before him. Oh, there was loyalty, particularly to Dumbledore, and a strong sense of justice in the idealistic young man as well. That Artemisia too had seen all those things, Dippet had no doubt. By seeming to exclude Mr. Moody, she had aimed to exploit those insecurities.
"Mr. Moody, the prophecies were left to influence, to encourage each of us on the path to our own destruction and despair. That there was no prophecy left for you does not signify that you are not important. It merely signifies that Artemisia believed that not leaving you one would do more to hasten you on that path than anything she could say."
That Dippet knew that the warning of his next words was one he had himself already several times failed to heed with the child, did not stop him from offering the same advice to Mr. Moody.
"These things that Artemisia has said about he child, they are not yet true. I will not deny that they may become true, but I believe if they are to become, it is to be because of us, because of our own responses to the child. It is important to remember, though Artemisia was cruel and dare I say it, evil, this girl is merely a child and still readily open to influence."
Dippet sighed inwardly as Mr. Moody took his leave. He feared his words had not had upon the other man the desired effect. Left alone, Dippet settled back into his chair to yet again remember the choice words Artemisia had left for him.
'You will not live to see the day all your work will come to naught, but unrest assured, the day will come.'
The meaning of Artemisia's words was, at least to him, quite clear. 'Your work' referred to his attempts to alter the events he had Seen, to prevent the slaughter of all those people. That it would 'come to naught' meant all his efforts were to be in vain. Despite any effort he might make, the girl's future was to be resolute, unyielding. 'You will not live to see the day' indicated he would be dead before the event finally occurred. 'Unrest assured, the day will come' was merely Artemisia further taunting him with her certainty that the event would occur.
The possible interpretations of Artemisia's offering to Dumbledore were more numerous and more complex.
'Kill the girl, Minerva, while she is still young. If you do not, she will one day have the power to destroy you. Before it is all done, you will kneel before her begging for life. If your plea is answered, you can expect to spend the remainder of your life in bondage and servitude to her and her line. She will have dominion over all that you hold dear.'
Dippet was about to once again consider the meaning, to dissect the words referencing Dumbledore but instead his sight settled upon the vials within his partially open desk drawer. Pocketing one, he made his way up the staircase to his private rooms and the brief respite that the vial could offer.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N I had said that I planned to have this series of flashbacks resolved by Christmas or at the latest New Years. At the moment, that is not looking likely. When I said that, I had planned to be posting up a new chapter each day, but I have been holding back a bit on posting and writing given a lack of feedback. It seems from the lack of responses that most people have stopped reading. I will continue to post the next few chapters in the hopes that people have just been busy with the end of the school year or the holidays, but if interest doesn't pick up then I will be ending the story shortly and trying my hand at something else.
Thank you to those who have reviewed: Zeo, CEA, and Margo Wulfric x 2.
Margo (36)The shorter chapters are because I think they are easier to digest. The few long chapters were because I had a lot of information I needed to get out and couldn't find a really convenient place to break the story. I've since taken to just adding in the breaks regardless.
(Chapter 35) Sorry I missed your review, it went up just as I was posting the next chapter. Dippet's character is a series of contrasts. He is one of those people that knows better than to do something, but can't help himself and does it anyways. Despite this story being a serialized fan fiction, I am writing it more in the form of a novel intended to be read in a few sittings. Things and people that don't quite make sense at first should begin to make more sense as you go along. If Dippet's words and actions, as well as his thoughts in the scenes he narrates, seem disjointed or in contrast with each other than perhaps there is a reason, something being slightly hinted at but not yet clear to the reader.