Recommendation: This chapter's recommended fic is "The Meeting" by Clell65619. In the epilogue, Harry and Draco nod to each other. Why? Well, this is one interesting and amusing explanation.
Chapter 43 - No More Mr. Nice Guy
Tuesday, March 2, 1995, Morning.
Wormtail sniffed around, thankful that while in his rat form his sense of smell was so much better. He recognized this area by the smell, despite not having been here in over fifteen years. As he came up over a rise, though, he did start to recognize some things visually. He transformed back into Peter Pettigrew, and from the vantage point of a human, the surroundings looked even more familiar. After he stepped through some brush, he finally saw Malfoy Manor.
His master had limited his exposure to the other Death Eaters to keep his identity a secret for as long as possible, so he had never spent much time at the Malfoy estates. The place was far too ostentatious for Peter's tastes — he was sure that Lucius Malfoy must be compensating for something. And what was with those peacocks, anyway?
He wasn't there for sightseeing, however, but to convince Lucius to return with him to help their master.
Tuesday, March 2, 1995, Late Morning.
When Jasmine and Hermione entered Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall called Jasmine up to her desk and showed her a note that had come from the headmaster. "Why does he want to see me?" she asked. "And why now, when I should be in class?"
"He didn't tell me," her professor replied, "but I assume it's about the second task. The timing is a bit odd, though."
"And you can't leave class to be with me as my Head of House, can you?" Jasmine asked.
"No," McGonagall said with a frown, "and now that you mention it, I wonder if that's part of the reason for the timing." She sighed before continuing, "Regardless, you do have to go. I will remind you to be careful of what you say. Don't answer his questions with anything more than is absolutely necessary. Don't try to fill silences with your own chatter."
"In short," Jasmine said, "try to avoid volunteering information, because if he is working against me for whatever reason, he can use that information against me."
"Correct," McGonagall said. "I'm sorry you've had to learn that at such a young age, but hopefully it will help. And do try to stay calm. You'd best be off now. The password for today is Ice Mice."
"Thank you, Professor," Jasmine said. After having a quick word with Hermione to let her know what was going on, Jasmine made her way to the headmaster's office. The gargoyle accepted the password without an argument, and soon she found herself in his office for the first time that school year. The other times she'd been here, she'd been fascinated by her surroundings, but that was before she had made so many disturbing discoveries about the headmaster's actions. It was also before he put her girlfriend at the bottom of the Black Lake, completely disregarding Hermione's own desires and wellbeing.
Jasmine really did not want to be in that office, or anywhere near the headmaster. Now that I think about it, she wondered, why is this the first time this year that he's asked to see me? Why didn't he call me in to apologize for not successfully protecting the Goblet of Fire? To offer encouragement in my efforts during the tournament? To discuss how horribly I've been treated? To even just ask how I was doing? My life has been put in danger because of his failure, and he responded by simply ignoring me until now?
As soon as Fawkes saw her, the immortal bird seemed to sense her growing disquiet and began to trill softly, filling Jasmine's heart with warmth and making her feel a bit better about the unwelcome meeting. She had already gotten past the point of wanting to hex her headmaster on sight, but the trilling of Fawkes calmed her even more, making it possible for Jasmine to at least have a civil conversation with a man she no longer trusted or looked up to the way she used to.
Looking around, she noticed several unusual-looking trinkets on some of the bookcases scattered around the room. Jasmine frowned and thought, I never really noticed them before, though I'm sure they were there. At least one must be a blood tracker for me, but what are the others? Are other people being tracked?
"Welcome, Miss Potter," Dumbledore said, not noticing the sudden darkening of her mood. "I'm glad to see that Fawkes still approves of you so much. Phoenixes can be very picky and it's quite the compliment, I assure you."
"Thank you, Headmaster," Jasmine said as she sat down. "And thank you, too, Fawkes," she added.
"You must be wondering why I asked to see you this morning," Dumbledore said. Jasmine immediately noted that while this sounded like a question, it wasn't actually one. After talking to her the other day about what Professor Snape had done to her in Potions class, Professor McGonagall pointed out that the Headmaster seemed to like making statements that sounded like questions as a means of fishing for information.
Jasmine had never noticed it before, but suspected that he did it rather often. Since this didn't seem to be overt fishing, though, she decided to go along with it and answer. "Yes, sir."
After a moment of silence, the headmaster continued, "Well, I was hoping you could tell me about how you completed the second task."
Again, a non-question question, Jasmine thought suspiciously. But I guess I can answer it.
"I think that the Daily Prophet story was pretty accurate — which is a bit surprising for them, really," Jasmine answered.
"Surely there were some gaps in the story," Dumbledore cajoled. "Perhaps a few things that were inadvertently left out?"
"No, sir," Jasmine said, "I can't think of anything."
Dumbledore sighed and seemed to be annoyed at the witch's stubbornness, not that Jasmine really cared at that point. She was going to be polite because she had to, but she wasn't going to go out of her way to make his job easier.
"Why don't we start with your cooperation with the other champions," Dumbledore said in an effort to begin again. "Would you tell me why you chose to do that?"
"OK," Jasmine said. "Do you disapprove of the cooperation?"
"No, of course not," Dumbledore said, apparently getting frustrated again. "But the point of the Triwizard Tournament is competition, didn't you realize that?"
Jasmine let her eyes get wide when she said, "Really? I thought it was to foster international understanding and cooperation."
"Uh, well, yes," Dumbledore said, caught by how he had originally described the tournament when announcing it to the school. "It's just that it's hard to score a competition when the participants aren't competing."
Jasmine didn't bother to respond to that.
Dumbledore cleared his throat after a moment. "Yes, well, moving on. What can you tell me about the spells you used while under the lake?"
"Well, everything happened so fast, you know," she started. "One second we were working on freeing the hostages, the next we had merpeople charging at us from all sides with weapons pointed right at us. It was really scary." Dumbledore nodded in apparent understanding and encouraged her to continue.
"Once that happened, I just reacted and started casting banishing and cutting spells as quickly as I could." Jasmine deliberately avoided mentioning that the cutting "spell" was actually a powerful cutting curse rather than the more common cutting charm which they had recently learned. "I kept turning and casting in different directions to protect everyone. Once the merpeople pulled back, we finished freeing the hostages and left."
"And... that's it?" Dumbledore asked, a little surprised, apparently expecting more serious spells or a more interesting battle.
"Yes, sir," Jasmine answered with a little nod. "It was scary, but it didn't last long."
Dumbledore frowned. "Did you feel that you were casting with more power than usual? In fact, did you feel like you had more power than usual?"
"No, sir," Jasmine responded. "It felt about the same as it has for a while now."
"Are you sure that there's nothing else you want to tell me about the second task?" Dumbledore asked, now rather blatantly fishing for information.
"Yes, sir," Jasmine said, struggling to maintain a look of politeness rather than simply scowling. "I'm sure."
Because of his continual failure to get anything at all out of the Girl Who Lived, Dumbledore decided to risk a bit of Legilimency to see what she was thinking and hopefully learn some useful information. It wasn't something he liked to do very often, not just because it wasn't legal but because it was a serious invasion of the student's privacy, but it didn't cause any real harm to anyone and at times had proved to be an invaluable means for acquiring critical information.
With his blue eyes twinkling more than ever, he stared right into Jasmine's green eyes and pushed his magic forward, slipping into the young witch's mind where he had potential access to all her thoughts, dreams, and ideas. As he started to get images of Hermione Granger, Jasmine began to feel a tickling in the back of her mind. It confused her at first, but it soon dawned on her that this was a common symptom of being subjected to a slow, careful Legilimency attack.
She knew she didn't have the ability to fight such an attack no matter who was mounting it, much less when it was Albus Dumbledore, so she did the only thing she could: break eye contact and look at something else in the room — in this case, Fawkes, who trilled mournfully at her.
Dumbledore's head rocked back slightly at the sudden and unexpected loss of contact. Did she detect my use of Legilimency? he wondered. No, that's not possible. She wouldn't have any way to do that, not without weeks if not months of training, something she's never received. No, it must have been simply a coincidence that she looked over at Fawkes just then.
Deciding that he'd accomplished about as much as he was going to that morning, Dumbledore said, "Very well, Miss Potter, you may go. I must say, however, that I'm disappointed that you haven't seen fit to confide in me more." He thought that the grandfatherly demeanor combined with the tone of disappointment would make her feel ashamed and thus more pliable in the future, but he couldn't have been more wrong.
He never noticed the unshed tears in her eyes at the betrayal she had just experienced.
Lucius Malfoy sneered contemptuously at the dumpy, snivelling man before him. As a member of Lord Voldemort's inner circle, he had of course known that Peter Pettigrew, best friend of the blood traitors James Potter and Sirius Black, had been a spy, but that didn't mean that he liked the man. As a matter of fact, he didn't like very many of those who were in service to his master. Most were so far beneath him in culture and breeding that he wouldn't let them lick his custom-made dragonhide boots.
Nevertheless, as a faithful servant of the Dark Lord, he had forced himself to learn to deal with such cretins. And now, the most cretinous of all had snuck into his home and started spinning a tale about how their master was preparing to gain a new body, but demanded help from the Malfoy family. I should have thought to reconfigure the wards years ago, Lucius lamented, and remove people like this that the Dark Lord had required me to key in. Well, that's something I'll have to take care of soon.
"Explain to me why I should believe you, worm," Lucius said haughtily. "And do it quickly, before I lose my patience and make you regret ever sneaking into my manor."
Pettigrew was clearly afraid, but he continued, "Our Lord told me one of your secrets, something he discovered when performing Legilimency on you. It's something you wouldn't want known by others and that I wouldn't have been able to learn on my own."
Lucius' eyes narrowed at the prospect of this worm knowing any of his secrets, much less something that the Dark Lord had been able to discover. "You tread on dangerous ground…."
"I am only fulfilling our Lord's will," Pettigrew interrupted. "If you wish proof, I will give it to you. If the proof angers you, then complain to our Lord."
"Very well," Lucius ground out, "what is your so-called proof." If this worm already knows any of my secrets, he thought, then it's too late for me to do anything about it and I might as well find out what he knows. If he doesn't know any genuine secrets, then I'll have all the more of an excuse to eliminate him.
"According to the Dark Lord," Pettigrew said slowly, clearly enjoying this, "you have a curious penchant for drinking polyjuice that's been keyed to a certain individual and then having your wife…"
"Enough!" Lucius shouted. Leaning over Pettigrew and pulling his wand from his cane, he continued in a low, menacing tone, "Don't you dare finish that sentence. Don't you dare even think about that sentence. And if anyone else learns about this, I'll know it was you."
"Or it was the Dark Lord," Pettigrew said defiantly. He looked intimidated, but not that intimidated. That as much as anything convinced Lucius. It was clear that the small man at least believed that he was protected by the Dark Lord and there was nothing that Lucius could do to him.
That will change, though, and when it does, I will deal with you, Lucius promised himself.
Tuesday, March 2, 1995, Lunch.
Albus Dumbledore decided to take lunch in his office because he needed time alone to think about his meeting with Miss Potter. He had expected to gain some useful information from her: like many witches her age she could be quite talkative, especially when nervous about something… such as being called into the headmaster's office without warning. Instead he had found himself facing a rather recalcitrant young witch who was borderline hostile.
Then his use of Legilimency unexpectedly failed when she looked away. Maybe Severus can try later and get something when she's more unprepared, he considered. Thoughts of the Potions professor made him realize that talking to Miss Potter had been like interviewing a Slytherin student from one of the darker families — someone suspicious of everyone and with at least rudimentary training in how to deal with being interrogated. What's changed about you, Miss Potter? he wondered. What's caused these changes in your behavior and attitude?
Dumbledore decided to start from the beginning and catalog what was different about this year to see if he could identify any common factors that might explain everything. The most obvious of course is the Triwizard Tournament, he considered. There's a lot of stress involved with that. She's been under stress before, though, and helping her to handle such stress has been part of the point of how I've tried to arrange events around her. It will be such a critical skill for her as she grows up, and this year has unexpectedly demonstrated just how valuable it can be. I shudder to think of how much worse this year would have been for her if I hadn't been preparing her.
He then considered her age and wondered if the changes in her might have something to do with puberty, but set that possible explanation aside for the time being because he simply didn't know enough about the subject to say for sure. The meetings with the veela were likely related to the unexpected cooperation among all the champions, so he ignored that as a solved mystery and irrelevant now.
Her magical skills and possibly her power have also increased... that might perhaps be a result of the recent extra practice and training all year with Miss Granger, he reflected, but would that explain the amount of change? And what about her change in attitude? Abruptly he stood up and began pacing back and forth in his office, his lunch forgotten. The suddenness of his movements caused Fawkes to squawk in alarm while some of the portraits started taking a closer interest in the headmaster.
Could that be it? he wondered. Miss Granger was the only student to believe that Miss Potter didn't cheat to enter the tournament. She has also been helping Miss Potter all year with practicing new spells. She's been involved in the meetings with the French champion. She was the dominant feature in Miss Potter's mind earlier today. And she was, of course, the choice for what Miss Potter would treasure most — possibly an even better choice than Mr. Longbottom, given the long, close association the two witches have had.
Dumbledore stopped then and sighed. He wished now that he had been paying closer attention to Miss Potter this year. If he had, maybe he'd have been able to identify the source of her changes more easily. He might have even been able to nip them in the bud much earlier, instead of being surprised by them now at this late date.
Well, regardless of how late it is, he thought, I hope there is something I can do. If her current attitudes and behavior are allowed to continue unchecked, it might interfere with our efforts against Tom. It won't do for the Girl Who Lived to keep developing as much hate and anger as I saw in her eyes just before the second task, especially if she has grown in power. She needs to be pulled back from that dark path before it's too late.
Sitting back down again so he could finish his lunch, he began musing aloud. "But what am I going to do about you, Miss Granger, and how exactly are you leading our Miss Potter astray? Maybe your anger at the bigotry in the magical world is influencing her negatively? What can I do to alter the influence you've had on her? Hmm... perhaps something to do with the relationship you two have? Weaken the relationship and you weaken the influence. That would be quite unfortunate, though, as she benefits so much from your help. I'll have to think about that."
Fawkes sat on the perch in a corner, a sad look on his face. The old wizard hadn't exactly gone dark, but he was treading dangerous ground and taking a path that threatened to go dark if he wasn't a great deal more careful than he had been lately. There was a limit to how much one could try to control people while still staying on the side of the light, regardless of how good one's ultimate goals were.
Unfortunately, Albus Dumbledore had been involved in politics for so long that he seemed to be losing sight of those limits. Fawkes lamented how the so-called "Greater Good" was increasingly being pursued without regard for, and sometimes in contravention of, so many lesser goods. It was almost as if he had forgotten that one can't have a greater good without lesser goods to build upon.
Fawkes still wanted to help, but was starting to despair at ever finding a way — or at least a way that didn't entail going against the old wizard.
Dumbledore stopped talking as he started to eat, but he had been heard quite clearly by the portraits that were paying attention, including one from the House of Black.
Tuesday, March 2, 1995, Afternoon.
"Potter!" Professor Snape shouted. "Where did you learn how to dice dried oliphant ears? Five points from Gryffindor for sloppy work!"
Jasmine's experience with the day's Potions class started going downhill not five minutes in with Draco Malfoy smirking and making snide comments much more than usual, and it only picked up speed from there. It didn't help that she had been in bad shape even before class started. The tickling sensation that she had experienced from the headmaster's Legilimency attack had grown into a headache during lunch. She was tempted to go to Madam Pomfrey, but she wasn't sure the school healer could help, and she didn't want to announce that she knew what had happened to her.
What was more, she was so upset at what happened that she was unable to explain to any of her friends exactly what was wrong. They could all tell that she was in a bad way, especially Hermione, but she just withdrew in on herself when they pressed, so they stopped that in favor of just trying to offer comforting words. Sadly, comforting words were the very last thing she'd ever get to experience during a Potions class.
"Potter!" Snape shouted again. "The pickled gargoyle dandruff has to be sprinkled evenly across the potion in the cauldron. Can't you read simple instructions?" Jasmine looked up at the board and saw nothing about how the dandruff was supposed to be added, but she declined to say anything because she knew from experience that it would just make things worse. "Five points from Gryffindor for failing to follow directions!"
Jasmine started to shake slightly in anger. A few days ago the Headmaster had endangered Hermione, and this morning Jasmine had endured a mental assault from him, despite the fact that it was supposed to be his responsibility to protect his students. Now, a man he had personally ensured was kept out of prison was bullying and verbally assaulting her with impunity. The unfairness of it all was hitting her much harder than usual, and she'd gone way, way past her limit.
Snape could almost certainly see the effect he was having on her, which was probably why he chose that time to strike with his own Legilimency attack.
"Potter!" Snape hissed. "Haven't you learned to look at your professors when they're talking to you?" Of course she looked up when he said that, and that was when he struck.
Unfortunately for Jasmine, he was far, far less gentle or subtle than the headmaster had been. The headmaster hadn't wanted to harm her, just gain a bit of insight he thought he deserved and needed. Snape, in contrast, didn't care how much discomfort or distress he caused her, just so long as he achieved his goal. His attack hit the young witch hard enough to instantly make her headache much worse.
Unfortunately for Snape, Jasmine had been spending the past few minutes fantasizing about her favorite ways of having him die a slow, painful death.
Jasmine was quite a ways off from learning how to repel a mental attack from anyone, much less from an master like Severus Snape. However, the potions professor was so shocked at the horrific, graphic images that he encountered upon barging into her mind that he instinctively stumbled backwards to escape them. When he did so, he accidentally bumped into Draco Malfoy, causing the boy's cauldron to overturn and spill the potion all over himself and his partner, Pansy Parkinson.
The Potions class turned into instant chaos as soon as the students saw what was happening to Malfoy and Parkinson. Some thought they saw the pair's faces melting off; others insisted that the two had become fused into a single, mutant Slytherin. Still others would later claim that the Draco and Pansy had been turned inside out.
Whatever they saw, the other students began vomiting right into their own cauldrons, causing the volatile mixtures to start exploding into the ceiling. Fortunately most of the students managed to hide under the tables or simply flee the room screaming. Snape had the presence of mind to put a stasis charm on Malfoy and Parkinson before telling everyone that class was cancelled.
As they left, they could hear him cry out, "And another fifty points from Gryffindor, Potter, for sabotaging a fellow student's work!"
Tuesday, March 2, 1995, Night.
Lucius Malfoy looked around his private office and wondered if he'd ever return. Not coming back from a meeting with the Dark Lord was always a possibility, but right now that loomed larger than ever because of all the unknowns he was facing. And judging by the way Pettigrew kept twitching, he concluded that the Dark Lord had grown even fonder of the Cruciatus curse than he used to be, which was saying something.
Not going, however, was never an option — not once Pettigrew had made it abundantly clear that he truly had been sent by the Dark Lord. There was no way that Lucius could refuse to obey a summons, no matter what the risks. This was something he had accepted when he first took the Dark Mark not even a year after graduating from Hogwarts. It was part of the price he'd had to pay for the glory and greatness which the Dark Lord promised his followers.
"Let's go, you cur!" he shouted at Pettigrew in an attempt to cover up his fear with bluster and bullying. It usually worked.
Jasmine and Hermione lay curled up together in bed, hidden from everyone behind sealed and silenced bed curtains. After dinner, Jasmine had finally told Hermione what had happened to her, both during her meeting with the headmaster and then later during their disastrous Potions class. "I feel so... so... violated, Hermione. He didn't ask permission. He didn't care about my feelings — just like he gave no thought to your wishes when he used you as a hostage. What did he want? What was he looking for? What's wrong with him?"
"I don't know," Hermione said softly as she stroked Jasmine's hair.
"It was like catching a dirty old man looking through my diary or digging through my knicker drawer," Jasmine said. "Twice! But at the same time, it was also worse somehow. My thoughts, if nothing else, are mine and should be truly private. Yet both of those teachers just plunged into my mind as if they had a right to those thoughts!"
"It's..." Hermione said tentatively, not sure about the comparison that came to her, "it's a bit like rape, isn't it? He took something private and personal from you."
Jasmine nodded her head, unable to say anything more.
It was all Hermione could do to keep from storming through the castle and trying out a few of the darker curses on those so-called adults. It took a lot to get Hermione Granger mad, and especially mad to the point of violence, but two nearly back-to-back mental assaults on her girlfriend did the trick.
She considered trying to find out if they could press criminal charges, but in the end decided that it didn't matter because there was probably no way to prove it — and who was going to take the word of two underage witches over that of the esteemed Albus Dumbledore? No, all they could do was add these incidents to their ever-growing list of complaints and hope that someday, someone with real power would take them seriously.
In the meantime, Hermione just lay there and held Jasmine close. She'd hold her all night, if that's what it took.
Severus Snape was startled when he heard the knocking on his door and scowled as he waved his wand to open it. "Headmaster?" he said, surprised to see the older wizard standing outside his quarters. It was very rare indeed that the Headmaster came to see him — when he was needed, he was summoned to the Headmaster's office. "Come in," he said, gesturing to the second chair sitting in front of the fireplace. "Is there something wrong?"
"I heard you had a rather interesting day in potions, Severus," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye as he sat. "Some sort of accident with Mr. Malfoy and Miss Parkinson, I believe?"
Snape scowled and replied, "I wouldn't call it 'interesting' myself. Just the usual sort of nonsense that I've come to expect when Slytherin and Gryffindor students are forced to work together during their Potions class. I don't know why you insist on shoving them into the same classes, then act surprised when there are serious altercations and accidents every year."
"Why, my boy, I thought it was obvious," the headmaster responded, seemingly disappointed in his Potions professor. "We can't expect them to ever get over their rivalry and grudges if they don't learn how to work together. I know it seems bad now, but think of how much worse it would be if they didn't spend so much time working together!"
Snape raised one eyebrow slightly in skeptical surprise, to which the headmaster continued, "Yes, yes, it's true. One thing I've learned in my long life is that separation leads to ignorance, which leads to mistrust, which leads to conflict. Forcing them together is the only way to cure all of that, and I'm certain that the situation now is much better than it otherwise would be."
Snape would shake his head in disbelief if he could, but he dared not. He suspected that this was one of those times when it was best to leave the headmaster with his delusions. Anyone else would be able to see that none of the students came to Hogwarts with the maturity necessary to do what the headmaster wanted, but the older students who did have the requisite maturity had been poisoned by several years of learned hostility in the classes. As a consequence, the headmaster's well-meaning policy was making matters worse, not better.
"You wanted to see me about something?" he asked, trying to change the subject.
"Yes, indeed," Dumbledore responded. "It concerns Miss Potter again. I have a bit of a problem with her, and I was hoping you might be able to help."
"What sort of problem?" he asked, surprised that the Headmaster would admit to having any kind of issue with his Golden Girl. I've been complaining about her and her rule-breaking tendencies ever since she showed up at Hogwarts, strutting into the Great Hall like she owned the place, but no one ever listens to me. On the contrary, the rest of the staff seem to want to just continue feeding her ego by letting the pampered, spoiled little princess get away with anything she wants. I'm the only one who can see how much like her arrogant father she really is, no matter how much she might look like Lily.
"Were you able to get anything from her today, by the way?" Dumbledore asked casually.
Snape scowled and said, "No, I didn't. I never had the opportunity." He hated admitting failure like that, but it was better than telling the old man the truth and that he'd allowed himself to be driven out by her very thoughts.
"Pity," the headmaster said with a sigh. "Perhaps you can try again later?" When Snape nodded brusquely, Dumbledore continued, "Miss Potter doesn't seem to trust me anymore, and she's acting in ways that are starting to trouble me. She's become very reclusive, she's been meeting others in secret, and she's been unusually angry — even at me. The origin of all of this is somewhat uncertain, but I'm confident that Miss Granger is at the heart of it. What I'd like is for their relationship to fracture, at least somewhat. I'd rather that they not be completely at odds, but ultimately my goal is to reduce Miss Granger's influence on Miss Potter."
"Really?" Snape asked. "Do you think that's wise? I'm not sure it's ever a good idea to interfere with teenage relationships, and Granger has been critical for Potter's grades." He also wasn't sure that anything the headmaster described really counted as a "problem," but he didn't feel much like arguing about it.
"I'm afraid so, Severus," the Headmaster said sadly. "It pains me greatly to have to do this, it really does. I hate to see a good friendship suffer, but not all friendships are for the best — not in the long run. Some friends, no matter how close you are to them, and no matter how wonderful the relationship seems to be, only end up causing more harm than good."
Snape had a feeling that Dumbledore wasn't talking about Granger and Potter anymore, but he dared not ask directly. "And you want me to do this, Headmaster?" he asked.
"Only if you think you can," Dumbledore answered. "Like I said, I don't want them to be enemies, and I certainly don't want them hurt, but a bit of extra stress in their lives — or perhaps just the life of Miss Granger — might cause them to separate a bit."
Snape had been fuming all afternoon over what Potter had done to him, and he longed for some way to get back at the brat. Here he was practically being ordered by the Headmaster to do something that was bound to upset her and make her life miserable — especially if he could arrange to push things a bit further than the headmaster wanted. How could he possibly say no?
"I'm honestly not certain what I can do," Snape said slowly, trying not to let on just how happy this job might make him, "but I will spend some time thinking about what is possible and I'll let you know tomorrow. Is that acceptable?"
"Yes, yes, thank you Severus," the Headmaster replied as he stood once again. "You know I really appreciate all you do."
With that, Snape stood as well and gave the headmaster a curt nod. Once the older wizard had left his quarters, he pondered what sorts of things he might be able to do, but he found that there really weren't many options available to him. Oh, there was a myriad of ways he could annoy and upset one or the other of the two Gryffindors, but any of them would likely only cause the witches to close ranks in defense of each other.
No, I need something far subtler and cleverer, he considered as he stared into the fire. Something that doesn't even appear to include my involvement, so they aren't tempted to unite against a common foe.
It was then that he had a most curious idea: Draco Malfoy. It wasn't because Malfoy was subtle or clever — just the opposite was the case, in fact — but rather because he might make for a convenient patsy. Granted, the young Malfoy was just as much of a foe to those witches as he himself was, but Malfoy had the advantage of being a student, which opened up one particular avenue that was otherwise closed to Snape: the student rumor mill.
If Malfoy can get the right sorts of rumors into circulation, that might create exactly the sort of stress the Headmaster is looking for, Snape concluded. I remember how devastating rumors could be to some of the witches I had classes with. No one person can be blamed, and depending on the rumors, it will be harder for them to close ranks and unite against an unknown and unseen opposition.
Snape sighed, unsure of just how confident he should be in this idea. I may have seen how some witches reacted to rumors, but that doesn't mean I know enough about how a witch's mind works to devise the sort that will do what I want. And they've already dealt with hostility from other students this year. Short of simply kicking Granger out of Hogwarts, though, I don't see anything else as very workable. I will call Mr. Malfoy to my office first thing in the morning, he decided, and see what we can work out. Maybe rumors of one going behind the other's back? He will probably have to rely heavily on Miss Parkinson.
Once he was back in his office, Albus Dumbledore again agonized over his decision to interfere in the friendship between Miss Potter and Miss Granger. "Am I doing the right thing?" he asked Fawkes, but the phoenix had just about given up on trying to give him advice — the old man never listened anyway, he simply went ahead and did whatever he wanted. Nevertheless, Fawkes trilled a mournful cry to indicate that the headmaster was making a poor choice here.
"Yes, you're right, it is a sad day when a friend leads you down the wrong path," Dumbledore replied. Fawkes trilled again, wondering why he bothered. "Indeed, my friend," Dumbledore said, "however unfortunate it may be, it will probably prove necessary in the long run. Desperate times call for desperate measures. And besides, they are still quite young." The headmaster seemed to take heart from his own words. "Yes, that's right — as young as they are, they have plenty of time to make new friends. They'll both bounce back, I'm sure of it."
Thus reassured, Dumbledore popped a sherbet lemon into his mouth and went about completing that day's parchment work.