Chapter Eleven: The Informal Meeting with Dippet

After dinner that night, no one at the Gryffindor common room seemed to be much in the mood to do their newly assigned homework. The sixth and seventh years had occupied the most comfortable chairs nearest to the fire, leaving the other assortment of couches around the room to be occupied by groups of Gryffindors from the same year. Erin, Nick, and Albus settled themselves beside Evan Wallman, Trenton Wood, and Scarlet Mirth, who was showing off the fluffy cat her mother had bought her for her birthday.

"Her name's Tiffany," she crooned, scratching the cat behind her ears. "She's adorable, and she's got a ton of magical powers too." Tiffany yawned and stretched. Evan leaned forward, apparently enthralled by the bored cat.

There was a sudden caw; half the common room turned to watch as Sapphira flew down from the dormitory rooms and landed squarely on Erin's shoulder. Erin flushed as several of the older students clapped and whistled; she muttered, "Stop that," to Sapphira, but the falcon only ruffled her feathers with pride. Scarlet's eyes widened. "Erin, what's that doing here?" she demanded. "It needs to be put in a cage, or at least the Owlery."

"Sapphira is a wild falcon; how dare you suggest she be locked up?" Nick said in such a plausible imitation of Erin that both she and Albus broke out into fits of laughter. Scarlet pursed her lips but didn't say anything further.

"Wish I had a pet," Evan said sadly. "My parents didn't want to get me one."

"Your parents are Muggles, right?" asked Albus.

"Yep," nodded Evan, "so I'll probably be the worst in the year…."

"Probably," came a huffy voice. Erin turned to see Charlie stalking off alone to the girls' dormitory.

Scarlet watched her between narrowed eyes. "She thinks she's so high and mighty, that one," she said, sniffing and tossing her gleaming hair. She's not the only one, Erin thought maliciously.

"Yeah, I know," agreed Wood, "I tried asking her something during class, she completely ignored me."

"Well, haven't you noticed?" Scarlet said. "She hangs around with all those Slytherins. Personally, I think the Sorting Hat made a mistake and should have Sorted her into Slytherin. It's not like she wants to be here anyway."

Evan nodded feverishly. Erin could tell he was only glad that Scarlet had not chosen to mock and scorn him, and Erin couldn't help but feel the same way. It felt nice, although more like a guilty pleasure, to know that for once, someone else was the outcast.

"Er, Erin?" It was Michelle Geller, the blonde first year Gryffindor. She seemed to be out of breath. "Professor Dippet just sent me… he said he'd like to speak to you in his office… immediately."

The first years all grew very quiet. Erin stood up, her stomach in a bundle of nerves. It was only the first day. Had she done something wrong already? Albus and Nick gave her sympathetic looks and Scarlet said, "Ooh wonder what its for…. Good luck, Erin." She followed Michelle out through the portrait hole.

Dippet's office was not as astounding as Erin had imagined it to be. It was a simple, circular room with several bookshelves lining the wall. Perhaps the most fascinating thing about it was the large, glistening chandelier that hung in midair and made tinkling noises every so often. The walls were lined with portraits of old headmasters; an old wizened one named "Albus Dumbledore" winked at her.

Professor Dippet sat behind a mahogany desk, adorned with several pictures of a pretty, fair haired woman and a chubby boy with a mischievous smile. Beside the plaque on his desk that read "Hendrith Dippet: Headmaster" was what looked like a large, metallic bug. It had sharp pincers and six legs, and crystal, blue eyes that made Erin shiver. It seemed quite lifeless, especially considering the gaping hole that went through its middle as though it had been stabbed. On the wall, nearly directly behind Dippet's head when he sat, was a large, black scorch mark.

He stood up when Erin walked into the room. "Ms. Lyths," he greeted. "Please, have a seat."

Erin sat opposite his desk in an uncomfortable wooden chair. She wriggled nervously. "Am I in trouble… sir?"

"No, no!" Dippet cried, clasping his hands together. "Nothing of the sort. I merely wanted a chance to speak with you, Erin. I am afraid we didn't get to know each other much at the orphanage. So tell me, how did you like your first day at Hogwarts?"

"It was fine," Erin said, watching Dippet suspiciously.

"You like your classes? The teachers? How do you find being in Gryffindor?"

"Professor," said Erin, "I wonder…. Is it usual for headmasters to take such an interest in each of their students' lives?"

"Yes… well, no," admitted Dippet. "Of course as the headmaster, I care a great deal about how you are faring. The truth is, I did want to speak with you. Please, let me know if the topic is too sensitive for you. I was wondering if you could tell me about your parents' deaths."

"There's nothing to say."

Dippet twiddled his thumbs. "Nothing at all? Are you sure you wouldn't like to-"

"I'm sure. I'm very tired, sire, I think I'd like to get back to my dormitory now."

"Of course, of course," Dippet said. "I'll let you leave in a moment, I only crave a few more minutes of your time. Please excuse my insensitivity."

Dippet inclined his head toward her. Erin shrugged carelessly, although she braced herself for his next set of questions.

"How long have you been able to see auras?"

"What?"

She hadn't been expecting that. She had nearly forgotten she had told him. And now she remembered with a new vindictive pride the look of shock on his face.

"Have you always been able to see them?" Erin thought back. "I suppose so…. I first remember seeing an aura when I was two or three."

"And does everyone have an aura?"

Erin shook her head. "No, I can only see auras belonging to very few people…. You, of course, and I've seen Professor Ender's."

"Oh, you've seen Darius', have you?" Dippet exclaimed gleefully. "I wonder…. What did it look like, may I ask?"

"Brown."

"Hmm…." Dippet said thoughtfully. "I can only imagine what it means. Erin, do you- please forgive me- know if your parents were able to see auras as well?"

"I don't know."

"Did you ever meet anyone else that could?"

"No."

"It's almost nearly unheard of, you know, seeing auras. I thought it was just part of the legends from eastern Europe. I think I may have heard of it in Norway… that's where you're from, correct?"

Erin hesitated. "Yes…."

"Well Erin, I'm sorry to keep you out of bed so late." Erin stood up. "Oh, and Erin? If there's anything else you wish to tell me, anything at all, please, feel free."

Dippet waited expectantly and when Erin remained silent, he stood up as well. "Very well," he said, "It's been a pleasure speaking to you." He opened the office door to let her out. As Erin passed by him, she caught a strong whiff of peppermint. Startled, she turned back to see Dippet silhouetted in the threshold of his office, his green eyes wide with warmth and sadness.

Erin sprinted down the spiral staircase, confused. She tried not liking Dippet; he was, after all, an authority figure, and she felt predisposed to find a reason they couldn't get along. But the vulnerability, the sadness, the peppermint…. As much as Erin tried to deny it, Professor Dippet reminded Erin of her grandfather.