Chapter Four: Fool's Errand
If there was one location throughout the entirety of the Hogwarts grounds that Dinah Snape loathed more than any other, it was the Headmaster's office.
She could never say that particular room had regarded her with much favour. In fact, the more time spent there the less she deemed it a positive place. In many ways it was a mood killer.
She'd had her fair share of time spent in Dumbledore's office, both as a student and then as a teacher. When she thought about it she couldn't remember a time she ever felt happy there. During staff meetings she could never even crack the smallest hint of a smile; never mind laughing, as her colleagues were able to do.
She could never forget the shame and embarrassment thrust upon her person over the years. She couldn't forget the silent promises she had made to the Headmaster, or the pleading and begging she had done. She could scarcely count the number of times she had wept in that room.
It was rather unfortunate to say that the room's cheery appearance with the Headmaster's unusual trinkets belied its true nature; at least for the Potions Mistress.
And, somehow, here she was again; back in this room.
As she dusted the soot from her rather ordinary muggle clothes, a most-unusual sight to behold for any of her colleagues or students had they been present at that moment, she made her way towards the Headmaster's desk.
"Ah, Dinah, dear girl," he greeted with a tone of surprise, as though he hadn't been expecting her at all. "Please, do take a seat," he added, indicating the furniture to her right opposite himself.
"If you don't mind, Sir, I'd much prefer to stand," she said slowly, attempting to keep an even tone.
The Headmaster was unwilling to argue with Dinah Snape. "I must say, Dinah, blue does suit you," he smiled, taking in her attire. Sirius used to say that… but he had also said the same of purple and gold.
With a reference to Sirius she'd much rather have not been reminded of, the Head of Slytherin, tensed. Had he honestly brought her to his rotten office solely to torment her with memories of her gaolbird lover?
"Sherbet lemon?" he offered, holding out a small pot of boiled yellow sweets.
"No, thank you," was her clipped response. She most certainly did not come here to exchange pleasantries either.
Placing the pot back on the desk he leant back in his seat and clasped his hands together as though pondering something or other.
"I rather expect you're wondering why I called you here, Dinah."
Not really. The fact she had gone to that hotel on his orders to observe the Potter boy and his… relatives (she could hardly call them 'family' - from what she'd observed they didn't act much like it) answered more than enough questions.
"Harry Potter," she spoke quietly, keeping her voice even.
Oh, she could certainly have a few choice words with the man sitting before her right now but when had that ever helped her in the past?
"I've been rather concerned that we've yet to receive an owl of acceptance from him."
The man acted as though he didn't have a clue. Surely he knew what had been going on; not only the last few days, but over the years?
Dinah merely folded her arms and sent a subtle glare in the aged wizard's general direction.
"They have been starving him." The woman spoke bluntly. "I do not know the extent of abuse," she began, though the Headmaster cut her off.
"Oh, now, now, Dinah, abuse is a strong word," he said. All this did was anger the witch before him. She knew what abuse was; she'd endured it long enough and she'd never be rid of it; not completely. It was bad enough it happened to her but to happen to another could send the woman into a fit of rage.
"Abuse is exactly what it is, Sir," she scowled. The Headmaster had never liked the expression currently plastered over his colleague's face. "The first I saw of Harry," she continued, "he was the one carrying the bags and following orders. Headmaster, Harry is a child; not a pack-horse."
Just as the raven-haired teacher could never say she cared for Dumbledore's office, the Headmaster himself would struggle to say he cared much for her. It was evident that over the last two decades he had grown less fond of his former-student-now-colleague.
Following a short pause the elderly wizard spoke softly. "Arabella has informed me that all has been well. There's no cause for concern, Dinah. Harry is perfectly fine, I'm sure."
Dinah sighed heavily. "With all due respect, Sir, while I've nothing against the woman, she has appeared to me as being rather preoccupied with her cats."
It was true she had met Arabella Figg on one or two occasions. It had been those times she had attempted to keep an eye on Harry and monitor the behaviour from his relatives. The squib did appear to enjoy talking about her many feline companions, though when it came to answering questions regarding Harry's well-being, Dinah didn't quite receive the response she had been hoping for.
The young witch had never had much of a response from the Headmaster either, when it came to the famed Boy-Who-Lived. She had also been instructed not to return to Little Whinging. As a Slytherin, in normal circumstances, that wouldn't have stopped her, but it was evident she had anything but a normal upbringing. She knew there'd be a price to pay for acting out in defiance. There always was.
"Hagrid has gone to fetch the boy," the white-haired wizard spoke, completely disregarding the woman's words, though she couldn't really say that had surprised her much. He'd disregarded her words almost ten years ago too, as she tried to keep him away from Petunia's wrath.
Why Hagrid? Could she not have done so herself while at the hotel? Harry was there, right under her nose; she could have explained it all to him and brought him to the magical world herself; even done so discretely. As decent a half-giant as the groundskeeper was he wasn't one for discretion.
"Headmaster, I do believe you have wasted my time," she said, her tone rather blunt. Unfolding her arms, she abandoned the office through the main door.
Precisely why she hadn't used the fireplace was a mystery, but old habits die hard and she was taking the tried and tested route back to her private quarters in the lower half of the castle.
The halls, at least, were clear of students. She had time to clear her head before returning to Spinner's End.
A/N: I'm not completely happy with this chapter, but, as you can see things are a little different. Dinah is more tolerant than her Canon counterpart and, of course, Dumbledore is manipulative.
I am, of course, trying to move the story along and it may seem like 'filler' chapters at the moment, but I don't care much for fics which only start when things get 'interesting,' as it were. I like a bit of background information, so I hope these first few chapters are offering a little insight.