Chapter 21: Losing It
There was a knock on Harry's office door on Wednesday morning. Harry looked up from the letter he was reading and quickly determined who was outside the door with a glance at the Map before calling, "come in, Ms. Sprout."
Pomona Sprout shuffled in with an expression that clearly read "I know you better than to ask how you knew it was me outside."
"What can I do for you?" asked Harry, pretending he didn't know the answer.
Pomona grimaced. "Professor, I'm sorry, but I think I'm going to have to drop your class. I didn't think I was going to enjoy it but I really, really was and you're a great teacher and I would have loved it but I'm not going to have time anymore with—because of—I'm sorry—I've got-"
"Congratulations on your new job, Professor," said Harry.
Pomona stopped blithering. "Oh, goodness, you heard about that?"
"No. I didn't hear that you got it. It was my idea, though, so I guessed."
Pomona turned scarlet. "You recommended me to Professor Dumbledore? Thank you! It's always been my dream to teach herbology at Hogwarts. I know it sounds selfish, but I was disappointed when Wister was hired—he was so young. I thought it would be ages before they needed to replace him and I'd never get a shot. But—Thank you sir!"
"You're welcome. Also, please call me Harry. We are colleagues." Pomona turned redder, but nodded. "Did you get your schedule yet?"
She nodded again and pulled a piece of parchment out of her robe pocket and handed it to Harry who examined it.
"Ahh, you are lucky to have your seventh years on Friday afternoons. I have second years—they're a wreck. I missed last Friday, but I know enough not to look forward to this week's…And you've got separate classes for your sixth and seventh years. That's better for herbology—there are more different things to learn. Defense against the Dark Arts is mostly practice practice practice—it doesn't really matter what level you're practicing," Harry rambled. "Have you got anything planned for your first lessons?"
"Yes!" she beamed. "I do love the mandrakes and the venomous tentactula. I was thinking about using the Snare cuttings you gave me for a lesson. I think that would be more like 'defense against the scary plants,' though. Hey! Would you, er…" she paused, bashful of her sudden enthusiasm.
"Yes," Harry encouraged.
"Would you like to do one of those things—like you did with Professor Dumbledore—but with plants? A defense against the plants demonstration for the school?"
"I could help you with that, yeah," said Harry, interested. "When?"
"I—I'll go talk to Professor Dumbledore about it."
"Great, um," said Harry. "Good luck!" he called after her as she bounded out the door, her pigtails swinging behind her.
The office was notably quiet.
Harry pursed his lips and looked back down to the letter he was reading.
"Mr. Crockett,
We have located the individual you were looking for. He has, like you said, the nose of a snake. He is residing at number 12 Grimmauld Place with Mr. and Mrs. Orion and Walburga Black. They are also being visited by Mrs. Black's brother Cygnus and his wife Druella, and their six and two year old daughters Bellatrix and Narcissa. Our sources tell us they have a third daughter, Andromeda, at Hogwarts in her first year, but she is not currently in the house of Black. Also in the house is a servant—we believe he is called Bloom, but he is rarely spoken to directly, so we cannot be sure.
"Thank you for your business and good luck in your endeavor,
"Discretely,
"-"
The place for a signature was left conspicuously and dramatically blank, which suited Harry. The letter was from one of Harry's more sketchy and secretive business connections, and Harry didn't want to risk someone like Albus finding the letter and becoming suspicious (or, in the specific case of Albus, more suspicious). Harry was grateful for the connection, however. It takes sketchy people to find sketchy people, he reasoned, and Lord Voldemort and his associates were sketchy indeed.
So Harry knew where Voldemort was hiding. Next, he had to come up with a plan for attack, but first—he had class. He scooped up two phials of Felix from his desk and swept into the classroom.
"Mr. Prewetts?" he asked, finding the redheads. "Here are your prizes. They are not to be used for any sports or tests or competitions. I will know if you've used them." He handed them the Felix and they grinned mischievously at each other. "For the rest of the class, we're going to a different room. Hopefully I won't get attacked."
Some of the first years giggled, and Harry led them out of the classroom and up to the Room of Requirement.
When they entered, the room was different than it had been for the seventh years. It was dark, and seemed very small except that the opposite wall didn't go up all the way to the high ceiling.
"Brilliant," said Harry. He turned to the class. "Here we have a maze. One entrance is there, to your right. The other is to the left. I suspect there will be some sort of obstacles—"
"You suspect? Didn't you set it up?" interrupted Umbridge.
Harry winked at her and continued. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her shrink behind another student.
"Two of you will go in at a time: one in each entrance. Your goal is not so much to reach the other end, but to not get stuck in the middle without help. If you run into a threat you don't think you can take on, send up sparks and I'll come to your aid. Try to defend yourself or fight once you've sent up the sparks. Whatever you do, don't get stuck without having called for help. Any questions?"
"Are you trying to kill us, sir?" asked Gideon.
"I would never try to kill you Gideon," he replied, and glanced mischievously over at Umbridge.
Albus wanted his broom back. He couldn't believe he'd forgotten it on the grounds after he'd attacked Harry. Well, he was Albus Dumbledore. It happened; therefore he could believe it. What he was more interested in, though, was how distracted he'd been. He'd been so distracted that he left his broom. Albus was not an absentminded man.
So before lunch started he decided to take a stroll down the lawn to find his broom. Then, he would take his broom and fly to the Three Broomsticks, or the Hog's Head if he was feeling up to dealing with his brother, and buy himself a stiff drink.
This is not what happened.
Albus made his way towards the edge of the forest, but before he even got close, he could tell that there was nothing on the lawn. His broom was gone.
But he was Albus Dumbledore and gave people the benefit of the doubt. No one had stolen his broom. Minerva was a kind and thoughtful person (when she wasn't covering her bitterness with innuendo). She must have taken the broom from the lawn for him, and forgotten to return it. He certainly didn't pause to picture the broom being added to a shrine to him. Albus turned on his booted heel and marched back up to the castle.
He could have waited until he saw Minerva at lunch to ask her for his broom, but instead he decided to find her in class. He knew it was a little rude to interrupt a lesson, but he would be forgiven. Though he gave people the benefit of the doubt, he was still anxious to find his broom.
So he made his way to the corridor outside the transfiguration classroom. He listened briefly at the door. He knocked lightly and didn't wait for a response before opening it and sliding quietly into the room. His discretion wasn't necessary, of course. The classroom was alive with a chorus of noises from animals and small pops as they turned into inanimate objects. Minerva, who hadn't yet developed her keen awareness of everything in a room, was unaware of Albus's entrance. She was leaning over a table redirecting some fourth year students who were having trouble changing their jar of fireflies into light bulbs.
"Mr. Meadows, enunciate the incantation. Thicknesse, stop sending spells at Ms. Rosmerta."
Albus walked up to stand behind Minerva and looked over her shoulder at the boys' work.
"I would suggest making your wand movements a little larger," he commented evenly.
Minerva straightened in surprise, knocking flat against Albus. Albus grabbed the crooks of Minerva's elbows to keep himself from falling backwards.
"I apologize, Minerva. I was under the impression you knew I was there," he said, his mouth inadvertently close to her ear. She shivered and he let go of her elbows. He took a step back.
"Excuse me," she said to her students, and turned to face Albus. Her smooth face showed her blush well. "I assume you're here for a reason other than to offer transfiguration advice? Maybe you think I'm attacking my students?"
Albus didn't flinch. He knew Minerva made the jibe to appear to have the upper hand in her classroom. He had taken her off guard.
Albus cast a subtle spell to make sure the students around them were uninterested in their conversation before speaking.
"Is my broomstick currently in your possession, Minerva? May I have it back, please?"
"No, Albus. No it's not. This couldn't have waited ten minutes for lunch?"
Albus frowned.
"Do you know where it is?"
"Crockett has it," said Minerva, dryly. "Perhaps you're going to interrupt his class? Can I watch?"
Albus refrained from turning Minerva into a badger.
"I'm going to lunch, now, Minerva. Thank you for the information. Have a nice class."
Minerva smirked through her fading blush and did not turn Albus into a turkey as he swept briskly from the room.
Harry was creatively rescuing the last first year (Amos Diggory) from the attack of an enchanted bookshelf that was shooting paperbacks at him.
"Try this spell," called Harry. "Protego!"
A shield rose between Harry and a flying book.
"Protego!"called Amos, his voice trembling slightly. The next book that approached him slowed down slightly before hitting him in the thigh.
"Almost!" said Harry, deflecting another book. "That was pretty good for a first time. Are you ready to get out of here?" Amos nodded. Harry immobilized the bookshelf and thought quickly, I need a room without a maze. I need a room to talk with my students before we leave. I need to not be in a maze.The maze vanished and student and teacher found themselves a few yards from the rest of the class.
"Good work," he said to the class. "You understand that it's more difficult to act under a threat. Your homework—Hmm," said Harry, stopping abruptly as he felt a magical alarm go off in his head. "Someone is trying to break into my office. Shall we see who it is?" The Prewett twins grinned.
Harry closed his eyes and thought, I need this door to come out across from my office. I need this door to open in front of my office. I need to go straight from this room to my office. "Check this out, guys."
He crossed the room, drawing his wand, and opened the door.
"Petrificus totalus!" he cried, pointing his wand at the back of the tall, auburn haired— "Crap!"
Albus spun around, taking the spell in the chest. His arms snapped to his sides and his legs snapped together before he tipped dangerously sideways. Harry lunged and caught him. Harry wasn't sure if Albus freed himself with a wordless spell or if Harry's touch freed him, but Albus's body was soft and mobile again when its weight landed in Harry's arms.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" hyperventilated Harry, gripping Albus.
"May—I stand up—please, Harry?"
"Albus! I'm sorry, I—oh, yes, of course," he said, letting go of Albus and pushing him slightly to his feet. Albus subtly stepped backward slightly.
"Professor Dumbledore, sir! Why were you breaking into Professor Crockett's office, sir?"
"He's breaking in because Professor Crockett is evil! I bet he thinks he's attacking us!"
"No! Professor Crockett isn't evil—It's Dumbledore—er, Professor Dumbledore, that is. He's evil! Didn't you see—"
"Or maybe Professor Crockett borrowed something from Professor Dumbledore and now he wants it back," said Albus, quieting the first years. Mostly.
"No! That's stupid," said Gideon. "Why would he do that?"
"Right!" continued Fabian, "It's actually that they're scheming together to turn everyone in Hogwarts into ferrets—"
Harry rounded on the twins with comically menacing eyes. "We wouldn't need to scheme if we were going to turn everyone in Hogwarts into ferrets. We would just do it and congratulate each other on it later." He turned to the rest of the class. "Your homework is to continue practicing your signals, and perhaps write me a twenty centimeter essay explaining your favorite way to prevent a mass ferret transformation. Now you're free. Go away," said Harry, rolling his eyes.
The first years giggled nervously and scampered off to lunch. Fabian and Gideon turned around like they were going to go back into the Room of Requirement, but the door had vanished. They looked questioningly at Harry who raised an eyebrow. "Lunch" he mouthed. They got the hint and hurried off down the hall, whispering excitedly.
Harry pursed his lips and turned back to Albus. "So, Albus, which one of us is evil?"
He didn't answer. Harry got the impression the question wasn't irrelevant enough to be funny.
"Do you have my broomstick, Harry?"
"Oh!" Harry said, whacking himself in the forehead. "Yeah, I picked it up the other day after…um, yes. I have it."
"May I…have it back, please?"
"Yes," said Harry. "It's in my quarters. I'm going up to get my broom for the flight lesson during lunch. Do you need it before then, or can I give it back this afternoon?"
"I can come out to the stadium to get it," replied Albus quietly.
"I'm not going to attack your students! You don't have to come to my class!" said Harry, finally showing his frustration for Albus's lack of trust.
"I didn't suggest that you were. I merely thought it would be more convenient for you if I met you there," he said, as close to a hurt snap as Harry had ever heard from Albus Dumbledore.
"Oh," said Harry weakly. A stone hand gripped his chest. "Yeah alrigh—"
"I'm going to lunch; I will see you in an hour," said Albus in a voice much colder than it ever was in Harry's time. Albus turned abruptly out of the conversation and walked in the wrong direction for lunch. If Harry hadn't been so stunned, he might have noticed that the Albus of the fifties was much more candid with his emotions than he would be in the nineties.