AN: Thanks all who are reading my story!

Star Mirage, thank you so ever much for your constant support! You know, I'll continue even if you'll be my only reader... As for action - there will be more in later chapters. For now it is just the necessary setting. And long conversations...

Chapter 4. Bad Feelings of Professor Dumbledore.

September 1943, Hogwarts.

Armando Dippet sighed and looked at Dumbledore without any enthusiasm. Such a cold welcome did not discourage Albus: he knew that Hogwarts Headmaster recently used to get tired with any society, even with the society of his closest fiend, whom Albus rightly believed himself to be.

'Something's happened, Albus?' Headmaster asked, and Albus winced from sudden pity: so weakly and almost helplessly Dippet's voice sounded.

'Well, nothing extraordinary, to say the truth…' he said hastily, already doubting whether he was right when he had started this conversation. 'Nothing new, I would say.'

No; sooner or later, but he had to tell Dippet about that; so better to do it now. Nobody knew what could happen to him in a week or even tomorrow. But only how to say it? Vague suspicions and dim presentiments were hardly got up to the verbal form. Usually Dippet from half a word understood what Dumbledore meant to say, even if Albus had failed in expressing his thoughts precisely, but now he was not sure that his friend would demonstrate a similar astuteness.

'You see, this story about so-called "Heir of Slytherin" is still bothering me… Something is not right there.' Dumbledore brought himself to say at last.

Armando Dippet had the reputation for rather restrained and very polite person, but this time he did not even try to cover his irritation:

'About that again?' he winced oversensitively. 'But what for, tell me please, what for have you decided to turn up this case? What could possibly be wrong there? Well, of course except our – well, mine above all - carelessness? Yes, we overlooked; yes, one of our students did possess a dangerous pet; yes, it managed to get loose and attack several children… The girl's death is terrible, undeniably… but, after all, it was a clear accident.' Dippet put in his mouth a small white pill, then took a sip of water from a glass standing on the table and continued. 'But the fact that this story was published – and in most distorted way – that is badly indeed. We are hanging by a thread as it is, and all that jabber about "ancient horror reborn"… it is very, I would say… untimely. Who being in his right mind could imagine that the Heir of Slytherin really exists, I wonder? It is a myth, a fairy tale! To believe in it seriously is the same thing as to believe in Santa Claus or in Snow White and consider them to be real historical persons! For five-years old, it is excusable – but for adult, respectable wizards to take seriously such nonsense…' Dipped shook his head, showing his condemnation.

Albus Dumbledore began to adjust his spectacles perplexedly. He could not understand why it is common to believe in Santa Claus when you are five and it is indecent when you are fifty. Not very nice to all those 'adult respectable wizards' whom Dippet was talking about. But now Albus was preoccupied with another matter and thus set his Santa-Claus reasoning aside.

'But, Armando, you did not quite understand me. I was not stating that all this crimes were committed by the real Heir of Slytherin – the one from the legend.'

'Well, it's rather good for you,' Dippet smiled. 'Otherwise I would doubt if you are indeed in your right mind, my friend.'

'I mean this Heir of Slytherin could possibly exist… somewhere… theoretically…' Dumbledore said enthusiastically. 'Indeed, why could not he exist?'

'Albus!' Dippet's voice was full of reproach, and Dumbledore understood that he'd gone too far in his suppositions.

'Don't pay attention; it was just by the way… It does not matter, after all, if this Heir really exists.'

'And in that you are absolutely right, my friend,' Dippet caught up. 'Other thing is much more important – and namely, that some of our, if I may say, papermen are trying to do their best in order to convince Wizarding community in his existence, and by this mere fact are causing a great amount of trouble for the school …'

It was not the direction of the talk that Dumbledore was interested in, but he did not interfere, not daring to stop Headmaster. The latter meanwhile continued, his temper growing stronger:

'I'll be honest with you, Albus: I did not expect them to be silent. It's their job, after all, to write about various incidents. But they could think of tact… of caution… of keeping true to real facts, at least, instead of fooling people with their spooky fantasies. Isn't it the matter of their professional honor? "The Heir of Slytherin appeared in Hogwarts!" Dippet quoted pathetically. 'Where did they dig that rubbish? A single stupid phrase on the wall is not enough for such far-going conclusions. And it was not a gutter press, but "The Daily Prophet", a newspaper most respectful. Chief Editor there is one of my former students – well, it does not matter in our times, but still… And I don't understand how the Ministry censor allowed it.'

The inscription that Headmaster mentioned – "He will purge this place by the hand of His Heir" – was founded written on the wall just above the body of one of the first monster's victims. And this very mysterious phrase was the main source of Dumbledore's worries.

'This is just the matter I would like to discuss with you,' said Dumbledore quickly. 'Tell me please, Armando, do you seriously believe that Rubeus Hagrid could write something of the kind? For this is completely not… not his thing!'

Dippet looked at him for several moments silently, presumably trying to recollect himself after his heartfelt speech, and then suddenly burst out laughing:

'So, that's the matter! But of course. You are still worrying about your protégé?' he stopped laughing and shook his head. 'There's time to stop, my friend. We are already done for Hagrid as much as we could. Saved him from Azkaban, found a job – what else could be done, especially taking into consideration the circumstances? Of course, he did not mean any harm, but still we must remember that it was he who caused the child's death… Even if unwillingly.'

'I will not touch now the question of Rubeus' guilt; although even there nothing is clear, contrary to what you may think,' said Dumbledore, slightly embarrassed with misunderstanding. 'Now I'm speaking only of these words on the wall, nothing else. And, speaking of these, I strongly object the fact that Hagrid could possibly write such an inscription. Not under any conditions. He's just different person. One could hardly find a less believable candidate for authorship of this pretentious slogan. Had you known him better, you would not doubt it.'

'Your stubbornness, Albus, sometimes oversteps all limits. You're continuing to excuse Hagrid even now? After his own admission of guilt?' Dippet smiled distrustfully. 'Sorry, my friend, but - '

'That's just the point!' Dumbledore interrupted. 'Hagrid did never say that he had written something on the walls. He just admitted that it is possible that his Aragog got free, but even then…'

'Sophistry, Albus, mere sophistry,' Dipped stopped him impatiently. 'Empty word-play. I was not expecting that from you… How could Hagrid be sure or not sure of anything if he himself was intoxicated by this Ararog's, or how's his name, venom? Ah, and did I mention that Madam Merrythought had succeeded in the venom description? Just imagine, its effects are similar to that of Moon Charms…'

When it came to the discussion of the variety of charms, Armando could talk for hours – a weakness, excusable for former Ravenclaw student and former Charms Professor. This time, however, Dumbledore was not going to be lenient toward it.

'That is interesting academic problem, indeed, but I suggest that we'll discuss it some other time. So, you believe that Hagrid wrote these words while being under Aragog's venomous charms? And, by the way, do you suppose that it was Aragog who encourage him of doing that?'

'Of course not! Why would an animal being – even intelligent one – touch all that pureblood issue? It is purely human affair; and not the best example of humanity, to my regret.'

'My point exactly, Armando,' smiled Albus in response.

'Listen, Albus,' Dippet frowned, 'I don't understand what you are trying to prove here. I agree that Hagrid would have never done such thing had he been in his own senses. But when bewitched by something – who knows? Both you and I know what a person can do while being under mind-affecting spell or potion. When you are sound, you believe all that pureblood defenders to be stupid fanatics. You object them politely or you loathe them passionately, that is up to your character, but you don't share their beliefs. Am I right? But when you are put under a curse, your point of view might be quite the opposite. Human mind is a mystery, after all; and human soul is an abyss.'

'We could have a good time admiring its depth, then; but we above all should try to see something in it - and that's what we and you, as school professors, are obliged to do,' said Albus definitely. 'And if I can be sure of something at all, then I'm sure that in all that depth of mind and soul, Rubeus Hagrid does not possess anything that makes him capable of such an action.'

Dippet sighed.

'So, you suggest that somebody else is involved? Somebody, who had been pushing Hagrid?' he asked tiredly.

Albus noted to himself that he had succeeded in rather difficult task of provoking Headmasters interest. At least, now Dippet was considering the possibility that it had not been entirely Hagrid's fault.

'Well, it could be,' Dumbledore answered evasively. 'Either pushing Hagrid or acting on his own… But this is certainly so.'

'Brilliant,' said Dippet, again with a sigh. 'And you already know who it is? Or at least could provide us with some suspicious facts?'

Now, they were moving to not-so-pleasant part of the discussion. For bad feeling is one thing, and concrete accusation or even well-grounded suspicion are quite another…

'Do I suspect somebody?' he repeated. 'Well, both you and I know that mere intuition does not form solid enough foundation for final verdict. But still –'

How to continue, Albus was not sure; and his 'still' left uncomfortable stillness in the air.

'Shall I beg you to continue?' Dippet broke the silence at last. 'Or you don't have any facts, after all?'

'Alas, my friend, what I have is not facts… But at least it is something.' Albus waved his hand indefinitely. 'Small exercise in psychology, if I may say so…'

'Small exercise in psychology?' repeated Dippet, slightly puzzled. Then he made a guess, 'Ah, you were going to study Legilimency – so, you succeeded? It is not quite right to do in school, and you know my position on it; but – did you manage to inquire something?'

Albus lowered his gaze guiltily. Legilimency, the art of reading human mind, was a discipline very difficult and did not come easily to him. His timid attempt to use it ended with absolute fiasco. Nor he had enough practice, for it was impossible to use it at school. After all he gave up on it completely and put his efforts on finding another way to gain truth; and in that he almost succeeded, or at least he believed in it.

'Not Legilimency,' he said. 'It is just as Veritaserum: one can use it only if he's sure of somebody's guilt. When you have no suspect, it is useless.'

'Hmm, then what?' asked Dippet, rather disappointedly than curiously.

'Tell me, Armando, why we so rely upon our special magical abilities and devices? Have you ever inquired how muggles find their criminals? For the crimes there are not magical, and Magic Detectors would be of no use, even if muggles have them… They have nor our Legilimency neither Veritaserum. Interesting, don't you think?' with that, Dumbledore looked at Dippet expectantly.

Albus always regretted that people of Wizarding World put so little attention to muggle sciences. It was a shame, indeed, how they treated non-magic people and their achievements; Albus himself believed that there are a lot of wonderful things that could be learnt from muggles. Had the circumstances been different, he would obviously go deeper in this subject, but now he had no such possibility.

'I hope that you did not bring to Hogwarts those muggle people in funny dresses – police-men, if I'm not mistaken?'

'No, not at all,' Albus smiled. 'My studies haven't got so far; what I was trying to do is just to find an alternative, more effective way of thinking which could help us here…'

'Well, then you will probably describe this revolutionary way of yours?' suggested Dippet phlegmatically.

Dippet's mood remained rather skeptical, but despite of that Albus decided to proceed in his explanations:

'Maybe, it will look strange to you; you might believe it to be out of place here. But please, I'm asking for your patience.'

After Headmaster's silent nod he continued:

'Every our deed left an imprint on the Universe. This statement had been repeated thousands times, so we all know it. But what it can possibly mean for us? Even if we believe in these words, we suppose the trails of our actions to be purely material. We always need something that we could touch, or feel, or at least observe – that's why you were asking me for "real facts". But are those "real facts" all that exists in our world? Perhaps, we essentially narrow our perception if we believe so. Our striving for physical reality is bounding us; it is even blinding us. Take for instance our case of mythical Heir of Slytherin. We were so entangled in all those real facts and proven accusation that we just failed to see the obvious! Are we blind, or deaf, or stupid? No, we were just too rational. It's also a fault, you know. We were relying on the facts – on the details – but forget the very essence. Had we thought differently, we would have already found what is going on there. Man's actions are not some mechanical movements; they are embodiment of his will, of his intentions; in them his soul is revealed. Whatever he's doing, there is always his heart present; in every deed, in every action. And if we look closely, we could feel it. That is exactly what I was trying to find: not the isolated facts, but the core, the essence, the heart of it all.'

Dumbledore felt that he'd been carried away and stopped for a moment. Then he continued:

'Try to see this crime not as a set of impersonal events, but as a revelation of somebody's will. We see the outcome, but what the purpose was? And who is the man that could give a life to such a purpose?'

'And who is this man, indeed?' Dippet almost echoed Dumbledore's words, but with no sign of the passion of the latter.

'So far I was able to see only fragments of the picture. But what I saw was very disturbing,' said Albus. Then he proceeded, slowly and cautiously. 'This person, whoever it is, is obsessed with an idea; which idea, both you and I know precisely, for Salazar Slytherin's beliefs have never been a secret. That's not exactly the reason for my worries, though. More than half of the pureblooded wizards to some extent share those beliefs. Here we have something more than that. This person truly believes himself to be different, special – to be above them – to be the chosen one of the sorts. It doesn't matter if he really is the Heir of Slytherin or even if the thinks that he is the one; what matters is that he feels the right to proclaim Slytherin's ideas. It might be some sort of holy mission to him. And, which is worse, not only to proclaim, but to put them into practice… And, since he succeeded, even if only partially, he's not just the average man indeed, however hard it may be for me to admit. But there is even more to it. Whatever importance these ideas had for this person, there is a thing even of greater value for him – namely, his self. Look, he's obviously striving for public recognition; and the recognition trough fear...'

Here Dumbledore felt that his imagination had leaded him too far, and stopped. He believed that he already said enough, and Dippet, certainly, would understand the seriousness of his concern.

'Well… It sounds frightening. It is some monster, indeed, the person you described,' said Dippet skeptically. 'One could even label him – "Absolute Evil".'

'I might be exaggerating a little,' answered Dumbledore protectively. 'But I'm not blaming anyone particular… It is just the feeling… That's what I perceive in those attacks… There is something in the air, you can not object…'

Armando Dippet, to all appearances, was far from being impressed by Dumbledore's psychological studies.

'So, your inner feelings tell you that… Having a well-developed intuition is a good thing, no doubt. It could be helpful, you know. But, alas, it has some disadvantages... And you are claiming that you are not going to blame anyone yet? And when, let me inquire, you will be ready to name us the person who'll match this so finely drawn portrait?' Dippet was looking at Albus expectantly.

This question was a rhetorical one, and Dumbledore know that. Of course he was aware that his theory, while being right, would be worth nothing if he did not manage to confirm his findings with some real proof. But the search for facts should start somewhere; otherwise, who could one know what he is searching for?

'You have a vivid imagination, indeed,' Dippet continued. 'And… please, do not take offence – but do you sleep enough?'

Dumbledore felt as if he was suddenly struck down.

'So, you think that it is absolute nonsense?' he asked, his voice quavered.

'I'm not saying that, Albus. Why are you always exaggerating? I suppose that there could be something in your ideas. But,' and Dippet shook his head, 'This "something" is too much ephemeral. Especially when all your arguments are nothing but weird and not convincing theorizations.'

The words "not convincing theorizations" were especially painful. Why are they "not convincing"? "Not proven yet" – may be; but why call them "not convincing"?

'I believe that you are too harsh, Armando. Or maybe, I failed to explain it to you… Of course I will not blame anyone without the real proof. But I was trying to understand at least, in what direction this proof may lie. Is it not enough? And why you are calling my, as you said, "theorization" not convincing? I'm asking you to explain yourself…'

Armando Dippet looked at Albus with such sad reproach that the latter immediately felt very ashamed of himself. All his offence vanished, along with all ardent and firm arguments that he was going to present.

'Explain yourself? If you wish,' Dippet answered. 'So you asked me to imagine this Heir's inner thoughts? Put myself in his shoes – am I right? And now I'm asking you: put yourself in my shoes. Imagine, that you, Albus Dumbledore, are Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In past – the most acknowledged of British wizard schools, and now – the only one, and the only one not only in Britain, but in the entire Europe. And then imagine that every month you receive piles of Ministry Directives which are going weirder and more absurd week by week. And all these Directives demand absolutely impossible things from the school, from the staff, from you; but you, nevertheless, somehow manage to fulfill them. Imagine that there are not enough staff members – catastrophically not enough – but you could not invite anybody new; just because there is no one decent left. Well, this is what you are familiar with…' Dippet pointed to the fact that this year Hufflepuff House was left without the official Head of the House; which had never happened before and was though to be impossible. 'Then imagine that every year they prune school budget – which is, of course, quite righteous in our circumstances, but because of that to keep Hogwarts properly is becoming much harder. We were literally hanged by a thread last year, Albus. I haven't told that to you before, but they did seriously consider the possibility of closing Hogwarts down… And now imagine that, as if to crown it all, those strange attacks begin. Who is doing that, and why? Merlin knows. And you have to act in the most absurd – even criminal – manner; for instead of informing the Ministry and waiting patiently for their committee of investigation to arrive, you are trying to conceal what is going on, to conceal it from everyone, even from the students, because parents of some of them are members of the Board of Governors and thus will inform Ministry for sure; and you have to conceal that because you know, and know for certain, that if Ministry finds a slightest cause, Hogwarts will be closed, and all those children will have to go home; and very few will remember that for a quarter of them it means returning to Muggle world – and, with all this terrible war, it is as good as have them killed at once,' Dippet made a grimace showing what he feel about that mournful fate. 'And then imagine that somehow the matter is resolved, and the guilty one is caught – by mere chance, to say the truth, but nevertheless… And you barely had time to have a sigh of relief, when some mysterious and foggy 'inconsistencies' are brought into light. And they are not real, solid facts – no, it is just ungrounded guess-work. So, Albus, you were offended that I believe your thoughts to be baseless and not worthy of considering? I have to admit, my dear friend, that here I have paltered. I wish them to be not worthy of considering. But they are very disturbing, all those psychological exercises of yours; at least, enough disturbing to, in case they are spread, start a new wave of gossip and scandals; and that wave, along with that simply brilliant article in "The Daily Prophet", will put an end to our school faster than that damned Heir of Slytherin with his monster… I mean not poor Hagrid, but the real Heir of Slytherin; if he exists at all, which – for me – is still doubtful - '

Dippet had a fit of coughing and stretched his hand for a glass with water, but jogged a decanter, and the water spilled all over the table.

Dumbledore, who was sort of numbed by his friend's speech, come to his senses and sprang up, helping Dippet to rescue the documents from this accidental flood. Then it came to him that to use magic would be much better. He took out his wand and quickly, with two simple spells, restored the order.

'Thank you', said Dippet wearily. 'I'm completely out of sorts today…'

Sad, but true, thought Dumbledore; maybe, poor Dippet had an insomnia as well? However, he understood that today it was him who put Headmaster in this nervous state.

'May be, not only I here is in need of good sleep?' said Albus with a forced smile.

Dippet laughed, but there was not much joy in his voice.

'Straight to the point. My strongest desire during last month was to go somewhere far and away, and have a long sleep… I'd sleep for a whole day or two, or even for a week. But you see,' he raised his hand limply, pointing to the piles of papers on his desk; all those documents were waiting for Headmaster's attention.

'Well,' said Dumbledore, not sure what else to add.

For the conversation was over, and all he had to do was to leave… But then Dippet stop smiling and began to speak again, this time very seriously and sadly:

'I am not sure if you understand me. I know, it may seem to you that I'm simply trying to hush up this affair,' Dippet looked wistfully at the empty decanter. 'Well, even if I'm indeed trying to hush up - '

'No, I understand you, Armando,' answered Dumbledore hastily. He already realized that Dippet was absolutely right is this situation – but the same could not be said about him, Albus Dumbledore, who was acting simply childish. 'I should not have bothered you with this.'

'And here you are wrong. Am I not Hogwarts Headmaster, after all, or am I?' said Dippet, rising. 'And, being Headmaster, I ought to know what is going on here. In order to pretend, at least, that I can influence something. So I would appreciate if you continue your investigation. I'm only asking you to be as discreet as possible. We are in very delicate situation, Albus… And the matter itself is very delicate,' he added quieter. 'I'm afraid you don't understand Slytherin students well enough. No offence here. It will come with time. So be very cautious. Don't take a biased view of them. They are not the sympathetic ones. But even if the person is not very pleasant, such as Malfoy, for example, it doesn't mean that he or she is guilty. Anyway, I don't advice you to talk to students directly. If you need an advice, speak to Horace Slughorn… To von Strommen, if the worst comes to the worst. But the best is not to speak to any of the staff members. I'm starting to sound desperate, am I? And please, understand: unless you manage to uncover some real facts… an undisputable proof… I will not be able to help. '

Both of them were standing at the door already.

'Of course I'll keep you informed, Armando. Though, I must admit, you almost persuaded me not to uncover anything,' Albus smiled.

Dippet nodded in response.

'That's up to you; but I wish you to know that I trust in you, my friend. Even more than I trust in myself.'

And then, he added almost inaudibly:

'And I wish you do stop him in time…'

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