Hello everyone, sorry I took so long to update. Oh well, on to business.
In case you're wondering, Rowling probably doesn't know this site exists. Kinda rules out my being her doesn't it?
The Talk
Harry and Hermione walked slowly up to the headmaster's office, using a few shortcuts and viciously hexing Peeves. Once there they settled them selves in and waited for the Supreme Mupwump (and what is a supreme mupwump anyway?). Fortunately they didn't have to wait for long as the grand candy-muncher himself swept into the room doing a very poor (but still funny) impression of Snape.
(AN A lot of people complained about my being mean to Ron in the last chapter, the simple fact is that's how guys talk to one another, or it is here in Mass, I don't really know about England. Anyway I decided to just be mean to Ron, Malfoy, Dumbledore, and He-who-loves-hyphens-more –than –the-lives-of-his-minions. If you have a problem with this, stop reading now)
Dumbledore settled into his large comfy chair and looked at them like they were his favorite grandchildren, even though he didn't much like his grandchildren. Then he addressed them, "Harry, Hermione, I have decided to give you two advanced training owing to the prophecy I told you at the end of last year (at this point Hermione glared at Harry and mouthed 'what prophecy might that be' and Harry appeared more afraid then Albus could recall him ever looking), I will personally teach you everything I know about Graymare, that art we call magic. You will stop attending regular classes, but we will use simulacrums to give the appearance that you are and avoid any unpleasant questions."
"Professor, why isn't Ron training with us?" Harry asked. "Young Mr. Wealsly simply does not possess the raw magical power to learn my secrets, the two of you do."
Harry looked disappointed but placated, so the old man "I suggest you get some sleep, tomorrow will be a very trying day. Miss Granger, could you stay behind for a moment? I wish to speak with you privately."
"Miss Granger, It has come to my attention that you have recently become suspicious of your origins. I can not confirm or deny your thoughts on the matter, but urge you to stay close to Mr. Potter, I am giving you the same training as him in the hope that you can 'watch his back', I believe the muggle expression is. Good night"
Albus Dumbledore hated to keep secrets, hated to lie. Yet he accepted that both secrets and lies are part and parcel of war. To try and assuage his guilt, he rarely directly lied. He omitted information, and he implied mistruths, but he never truly lied. As one of his favorite students left hi office, Albus Dumbledore wondered what would happen when the war was over and all the secrets revealed. Would they give him a medal or the Dementor's Kiss? Would he still have a soul for those monsters to take?
Hogwarts at night is a sight a thousand artists would give their eyes for. It somehow manages to appear well-lit and cheerful as well as being dark and mysterious. Countless students over a thousand years have snuck their girlfriends out after curfew to share a romantic moment just looking at their beloved school after dark. Yet there is one being who doesn't care for the lights. One shadow that moves with speed and purpose. One shadow that smiles sardonically to itself as it stalks empty corridors. The shadow cannot smile warmly, for warmth is alien to it. Yet it grins in satisfaction nonetheless. It's master will be most pleased.