Chapter 5:
Dumbledore's Concerns
Edited/Proofread by Demon Ging
Harry approached the gargoyle with a great deal of reluctance. After all, it wasn't every day he found himself summoned by the headmaster. His past visits resulted in either rewards for his heroics or because he was accused of being the Antichrist. Again.
He sincerely hoped today's meeting with Dumbledore would be less intense than they normally were.
"Fizzy pop," He told the statue.
It jumped aside at his pronouncement of the password and Harry climbed up to what was bound to be an interesting conversation. Indeed, his first sight of the centurion told him exactly what this was concerning.
"I confess, while I can appreciate a well-thought-out and marvelously executed insult, I daresay you may have taken it too far with these pamphlets," Dumbledore greeted before licking his thumb and turning the page to one of Harry's dragon-killing manuals.
Harry said nothing.
"I must also confess; I think it was rude and inconsiderate of you to not leave a single owl available for other student's use. Extremely so," Dumbledore continued, pointing to a corner behind Harry. "Poor Fawkes has had to work overtime to try and deliver mail and packages to and from the school all day."
Harry turned to the immortal bird in question to see it drooping miserably—Eyelids sluggish and head downcast. Before his very eyes, the phoenix slipped from his perch and landed in his ash bowl with a splat.
It was probably best to let the poor guy rest.
"I'm sorry professor. I hadn't thought things through beforehand," Harry apologized. "It seems to be a repeating pattern with me."
"Quite. But tell me, are you open to a critique of your essay?" Dumbledore closed the pamphlet and held it up, his face inquisitive and patiently waiting for an answer.
"Er, sure. I guess."
"While most of your methods are rather brilliant solutions to the problem that is dragons in need of killing, your idea of using conjured salt to poison the beast is a solution that wouldn't work quickly enough to avert the danger to life and property such a beast poses," Dumbledore began. "Beast Masters are in need of fast-acting, dare I say, immediate solutions of felling a rampaging dragon. Your other suggestions meet that criteria, but the salt poisoning doesnot. Furthermore, it would constitute cruelty in execution of a protected beast, a high offense in most ICW member nations."
Harry swallowed audibly.
He actually already knew that last part, but had forgotten in his haste to come up with a fifth method.
During the leadup to Buckbeak's trial he had learned, through Hermione, all there was to know about methodology involving the execution of magical beasts and the few protections they had in this arena. His bushy-haired friend had attempted to console Hagrid by pointing out that at least the beautiful hippogriff wouldn't suffer.
She wasn't great at the whole consoling thing.
"Right. I forgot about that. Am I going to be in legal trouble for suggesting the method?"
"Of course not, Harry. Even in the most politically slanted courtroom, your essay would not constitute conspiracy to commit the crime you unknowingly recommended, nor conspiracy to coax another to commit it."
"Okay. Um. Am I in trouble at all?"
That twinkling in the old man's eyes practically became a glow in his obvious amusement.
"For the pamphlets? No. For your overuse of the owlery? I'm afraid that will be fifty points from Gryffindor and a week's detention cleaning said owlery. Every evening," The headmaster said.
Well, that was going to make him late for his date with Sue. Could it really be called a date? He preferred to call it a date.
"I also have a few questions as to your well-being in general," Dumbledore added. "This will take a while, so do make yourself comfortable."
He motioned to the seats in front of him and Harry took his cue. He also took one of the lemon drops from the bowl as he plopped down. It did wonders for his nerves.
"Now, I want you to understand. I would be interviewing most any other student with these exact same questions were they in your position. Try not to feel defensive. You are not being targeted."
That was an odd disclaimer to start with.
Harry nodded and his interrogator withdrew a clipboard from a desk drawer before clearing his throat.
"Have you recently, or ever, taken pleasure in killing or causing suffering to any animal?"
Holy shit!
Harry had a long list of questions he never thought he'd have to ponder, but this question just knocked that list out of his metaphorical hands, stamped it into the ground, and lit on on fire.
"What?! No! God no!"
Dumbledore raised a soothing hand at the outburst.
"Now Harry, I told you to try and recognize you are not being targeted. This is simply procedure."
Harry took a few moments to compose himself before motioning for his headmaster to continue
"Have you ever fantasized about causing pain or injury to animals?"
And so the questionnaire went. It started with inquiries to any past or future animal abuse and transitioned into discussing similar questions regarding people. It didn't take a genius—which he wasn't—to figure out it was a psychological survey to determine if he was a budding sociopath.
By the end of the interview, Harry was flush in the face—more embarrassed than if he had been pantsed in the great hall during welcoming feast and as slack jawed as a python after swallowing an ostrich egg.
He sagged in his seat with relief when Dumbledore finally returned the clipboard to itsdrawer.
"Sir?"
"Yes, Harry?"
"Is this because of my handbook?"
"Not in the way that you think."
Harry turned his attention from the fascinating spot on the ceiling he'd been staring at and focused it back on Dumbledore.
"Then why, exactly, am I getting this treatment?"
Dumbledore sighed.
"Some fifty years ago, a rather gifted student walked these halls. He showed many signs of being unstable. In fact, he revealed his propensity to mistreat animals to me personally when I delivered his invitation to attend Hogwarts and introduced him to the magical world."
Dumbledore didn't specify which student he was referring to, but Harry had an inkling.
"I was merely a teacher at the time, but when I took up my role as headmaster I instituted a series of policies meant to monitor the psychological well-being of students and faculty. One of the policies is this particular questionnaire, which is to be administered should a student show any warning signs—particularly regarding the harm of other people or animals."
Harry nodded dumbly at the explanation.
"And my essay on killing dragons was that kind of warning sign?"
"Not as such, but for your protection I thought it wise to pre-emptively administer the questionnaire before any outside forces (Rita?) could make accusations regarding your mental state (Rita). With that done, any such claims or accusations are legally actionable, as your medical transcripts, which this will be filed under within the hour, are a matter of public record. I advise you to read up on avenues of recourse against such an eventuality in the extensive legal section of Madame Pince's library. Our libel laws aren't many, but they are thorough."
Harry was so touched, blindsided really, by the sensibility and compassion behind such a course of action that he found himself speechless. After the debacle with the Goblet, he figured nobody cared about his well being, especially not the headmaster. This gesture went a long way to proving he was wrong to think that.
Still, something about the whole situation bothered him.
"But sir, why are you administering it? Shouldn't Madam Pomfrey be doing this kind of thing?"
"Ah, a very astute question. Not to disparage our magnificent healer, but she is not trained in the mind arts, and thus, not qualified for this particular endeavor," Dumbledore explained. "Only Severus and I hold that qualification, and the licensure to perform these duties."
That sent off an alarm bell or twenty in Harry's head.
"Snape? You let Snape have the authority to make judgments on the mental wellness of students!? He'd mark half of Gryffindor as demented just for his own amusement!"
"It's Professor Snape, Harry. But you are quite right."
A pregnant pause followed the pronouncement.
"Huh?"
"You are absolutely correct. Severus, though a true master at potions, could never be trusted to make that kind of judgment on any student outside of his house due to his own biases, if nothing else."
Whoa. It was a cold day in Tartarus when Dumbledore openly spoke poorly about one of his employees.
"So why have him licensed to make psychological assessments?" Harry dared to ask.
Dumbledore shrugged in such a way that betrayed some kind of insider knowledge.
"Tell me; Can you think of any students who would feel uncomfortable with me making this kind of judgment on them, due to their misconceptions about biases they think I hold or because of their plain dislike of me?"
"Well yeah, all of Slytherin hou... Oh."
"'Oh' is right. This isn't something I would tell most students, but the two determining factors that sold me on hiring Severus were his skills in the mind arts and ability to gain the trust of the Slytherin student population. A population that was left adrift, unable to find help in these most personal of issues for all the decades I was headmaster before he came on. It is my greatest failure, to have allowed them to drown in the demons in their own minds and be easily victimized by people like Tom Riddle."
That was a sobering thought.
He'd never paused to consider the early lives of the Death Eaters he knew of. The Lestranges and the Greybacks. Could having a system in place have helped them when they were younger to avoid such dark and miserable paths—to have helped them make better choices? Or to at least have identified them and put them on some kind of watch list?
People don't just become monsters with the flick of a switch. There must have been warning signs. But what good is a warning sign if there's nobody there to see it? Nobody relatable or compassionate enough to help, without judgment.
Maybe the reason Slytherin was disproportionately represented in the criminal world wasn't just to do with their inherent temperament and refusal to seek help?
"Does he do a good job?" Harry asked.
Dumbledore's face became as serious as Harry had ever seen. He seemed to consider the question, or whether or not he should answer. There must be a certain level of propriety that outweighed the need to feed Harry's curiosity.
"Of all the duties assigned to him, I must say that his work in healing the hearts and minds of Slytherin students is Severus' crowning achievement. One I see him working harder on than any of his other duties. Though I'm sure he would never admit it, I believe he takes the greatest pride and pleasure in that part of his job—a job his predecessor did not do for him or those he loved when he attended."
That gave Harry a lot to think about. Snape was still an ass, but maybe he could try to be more understanding of the greasy bat?
Nah! Snape was liable to wipe his own arse with that olive branch the moment Harry offered it. Best to remain antagonistic.
Dumbledore seemed content to let their meeting end there, but as Harry got up to leave another concerning topic came to mind.
"Um. Professor. About Hagrid..."
"Ah. I presume you are as concerned about him as I am?"
Harry nodded
"Good. You would be a poor friend if you failed to notice the recent changes in his countenance. Would you hazard a theory as to why he has been acting so distant and confrontational as of late?"
Harry shrugged.
"Honestly, he seems to be angry about me killing the dragon in the first task. Which I think is unfair. I was forced to be there too. Would he have rather I died there instead?!"
Dumbledore raised a calming hand as soon as Harry began to raise his voice.
"I think, in this one instance, the issue doesn't revolve around you specifically, Harry. I know it's become rare for any tragedies or going one to not be directed at, regarding, or caused by you and your merry trio, but it does occasionally still happen."
And, just like that, the anger Harry had towards Hagrid vanished. There was something about the headmaster's special brand of humor that was just so—there was no other word for it—cute. It made being angry or sad impossible. G-rated grandpa humor, was the best description/
"Think back. Does his angst seem to be directed at you in particular?"
Harry did as he was told and thought back and, indeed, Hagrid's anger had poured down on everyone equally. The detentions and house points deductions, though deserved, were forms of punishment Hagrid had never resorted to, but now he was handing them out with the same enthusiasm Dumbledore did lemon drops. And the essay, now that he thought about it, seemed to have been designed to be an easy Outstanding score for Harry in particular, and inevitable Troll score for everyone else. Had Hagrid intentionally pitched Harry a ball straight over the plate?
"I think I see what you mean. He isn't angry at me for killing the dragon: he's mad at the world for allowing the dragon to be killed like that. Honestly, it feels like he views the lives of dangerous beasts as more valuable than people's."
"That's exactly right."
"...what?"
"That is exactly how he views the situation."
Harry's lack of understanding must have shown on his face, because Dumbledore explained further.
"I want you to imagine, Harry, living in the most extreme parody of purebloods idealism imaginable. A world where Muggleborn or half-blood wizards are considered beasts—animals. Now imagine, with you being one of them, seeing another forced to face a wizard in a tournament against their will, only to be killed," The aged headmaster said. "And imagine further a great many people cheering for this person's death, disregarding how it might make you feel, and the killer going on with their deed unpunished."
"But that's ridiculous! Hagrid isn't a beast!"
"On a deep, subconscious level, he believes that he is."
Harry outright scowled at the most powerful wizard in the world.
"But how could he think that?! He is the most kind, considerate, caring and hard working person I've ever met. He was the first friend I ever..."
Harry broke off that line of thought. He was getting too worked up, his vision was becoming blurry with moisture.
Dumbledore looked like he couldn't be more proud of Harry than in that moment.
"It pleases me immeasurably to hear someone else recognize that in him, but understand he has been told his whole life that a beast is exactly what he is. Less than human, and less deserving of that kindness, caring, and consideration he gives so freely to others. If you are told that you are a thing so often throughout your life, you will eventually internalize it. And I'm sorry to say on a deep level, Hagrid believes himself, at least in part, akin to the wondrous creatures he cares for. And with a mindset like that, it's not hard for a person to relate to and humanize the beasts they're compared to. And maybe even view the people who forced that mindset on him as the true fiends."
While Dumbledore no doubt intended this to come as a great revelation into some dark psychology, it was sadly something Harry had no difficulty understanding or even relating to. He himself had been raised to believe he was a objecttoo. Not a beast or animal, but an inanimate thing. A utility, and burden. A freak. When he had nightmares they weren't of dementors, dragons, or Dark Lords. It was when he remembered a past where he played with chess pieces, pots and pans or discarded action figures and regarded them as people. Talked to them. Cherished them. Considered them friends. Considered himself one of them.
"Hagrid's tentative recognition of his own humanity is made all the more brittle due to his budding romance with the lovely Olympe," Dumbledore added, breaking Harry out of his dark reverie.
Why would that hurt his feelings of belonging? Wouldn't that strengthen them? To be around someone like yourself?
"Because Harry, his experiences in the realm of romance have been utterly horrendous in the past," Dumbledore answered his unasked question as if Harry had said it out loud. "And he is terrified things with Olympe will go the same way."
Hagrid has experience in the realm of romance?! Harry couldn't imagine Hagrid being with a woman before Olympe. Then again, Hagrid was in Hogwarts with Voldemort, right? That's a long time to have never known a woman's touch. What did that make Hagrid? Seventy?
"You're telling me that over fifty years not a single woman fell in love with our most lovable groundskeeper?" Harry asked. "Er, former groundskeeper."
"It may seem hard to believe, as Rubeus seems like a man who one could easily fall in love with, but it wasn't his personality that attracted his past partners."
What? Oh. Ohhhhhhh... Oh god!
"Fetishists?" Harry hissed.
"That is a polite way to refer to them. Yes. But what's worse, those ladies who fetishized our friend because of his proportions also tend to be those who view him as bestial. As an animal. Try to imagine how healthy those relationships could have been.
There were too many things in that for Harry's relatively pure mind to contemplate. Getting over the fact that Hagrid had been with a woman before, his sexual experiences therein were solely relegated to weirdos who only wanted him because of his—shudder—mass and who also viewed him as an animal. So they were practitioners of bestiality, at least in their own mind... Maybe in practice too outside of Hagrid?
"That's disgusting! So modern Catherine the Great wannabees?!"
"Now Harry, I realize this is a serious situation, but I would be remiss as an educator if I failed to inform you that the myth of Catherine's manner of death is just that—a myth. A rather malicious one started in the magical community upon her demise and later made its way into the Muggle world."
Oh. Well maybe if they had a history teacher worth a damn Harry might have known that! Now that he thought about it, he needed to do something about getting a proper professor for the position. Perhaps a topic for the next meeting whenever it occured.
"I was led to believe the magical community had more stringent sexual morals than the Muggle one," Harry mumbled.
"Oh, we do. The sanctity of marriage and sex are greatly protected and respected, but there are always a minority who chase pleasure at the cost of all else, descending into greater and greater depravity until they are nothing more than disgusting wretches who can only attain fleeting joy from causing suffering to themselves and others."
Well. He supposed the Muggle world had those too. He didn't really want to think about that.
"It's no different than in the Muggle world. It's just compounded by the presence of magic. In regard to bestiality in particular, the Greeks, Romans and other ancient cultures practiced animagi magic to such a degree that nearly everybody was one."
"Oh god! Please don't say anymore!"
"What? I'm in the mood for teaching some esoteric history. I might be substituting for professor Binns from time to time. Don't you care to know the origins of centaurs and mermaids?"
"What, are you telling me they came from people who...did stuff while transformed into horses, and like, fish?"
"Quite."
"GROSS!"
"And there are actually many breeds of mermaids. Some descended from fish animagi, dolphin animagi, jellyfish animagi."
"Minotaurs?"
"Descended from bull animagi. Nearly extinct and on the endangered beast list."
"The Egyptian gods? The ones with the animal heads?"
"Not hybrids. They practiced a form of shapeshifting where they permanently changed parts of themselves for enhanced senses, strength or reflexes."
"Naga?"
"Yes, snake-human hybrids did exist. They intermixed with humans so much that the only remnants of their blood can be found in the veins of parseltongues, particularly in India, but also those here."
So Voldemort was descended from literal snake fuckers? Seemed believable.
"Anyways, I do believe I've taken up enough of your time and I have a meeting with an intolerable politician iiiin," Dumbledore retrieved a pocket watch " two minutes! My goodness! We really cut it close today. I hope not to see you again soon Harry. Or, at least, not under such undesirable circumstances."
Harry nodded, then turned and saw his own way out. With a polite "Good day, professor." he exited the office and descended the spiral stairs.
At the bottom of the stairs from the headmaster's office Harry encountered the strange sight of Argus Filch pushing a large crate full of letters and packages along with a pallet jack; the kind you see used in Muggle warehouses. The strange sight was enough to remind Harry of the poor Phoenix's plight, and his budding revulsion towards animal abuse.
Welp! Time to visit Moaning Myrtle's bathroom again. There was a toad prisoner in need of release. And as soon as he finished that, it was off to Hagrid's hut. The big oaf was in need of a hug, and Harry was the person to give it to him.
Sue did her best to muffle her giggles as Harry tilted every single portrait on the way up. Their inhabitants screams of protest was sweet music to her ears.
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