Alexandra Potter
Chapter 10: A Woman's Weapons
Scene 1/4
Alex woke the next morning to find Susan gone, her bed made and bag missing. For a moment Alex feared she'd overslept, but a quick glance at her watch told her it was only seven o'clock. And anyway, the others were still in bed.
Maybe I'll be able to talk to her in Charms, Alex thought as she headed for the bathroom, but it was not to be. As soon as they entered the classroom Susan found a seat between Hannah and Megan. Then, when the class ended, the three of them hurried out before Alex could reach them.Great. Now Hannah and Megan are avoiding me too. If I could just speak to her!
But at lunch Draco called her over and she had to eat with his friends, missing Susan once more. In fact, by the time her detention came around that evening, Alex hadn't been able to speak one word to Susan all day. And with Dumbledore taking over her dinner time, it didn't look like she'd get another chance.
With Susan avoiding her, Alex was forced to get ready for her detention alone. It was surprisingly difficult: what did one wear to dinner with Albus Dumbledore? He'd been rather vague about how formal a dinner it was, but something about the way he'd said it - and the fact that it was a detention - made Alex feel that turning up in jeans and an under-robe would not be appropriate.
So she relocated to the bathroom with an armful of robes and her small collection of makeup, purchased in Hogsmeade the previous weekend. An hour later the bathroom was in such a state as to give House Elves nightmares: the floor was covered with discarded robes, and one of the sinks was cluttered with hair clips and pins, makeup brushes and combs.
Almost done.
She was wearing one of her nicest robes: a slim black dress, sleeveless but with a high neck. Lily had called it fuddy-duddy when she bought it, as it went down all the way to her ankles, but Alex liked it. If you looked close enough you could see it wasn't as plain as it looked: it was actually made of two different blacks, forming a detailed flowery pattern.
She had black shoes to match: toeless, they had a bit of a heel to them. She put them on carefully, trying not to disturb her hair, which she'd put up in a high bun. Though it was secured withMadam Pein's Ever-Holding Hair Grips, she'd gone and made it deliberately messy, with odd strands of hair coming loose from the bun.Hopefully Madam Pein's pins will live up to their name.
Unfortunately, she'd had to abandon the makeup after a bad first attempt at eye shadow made her look like a whore. Instead, she'd just reddened her lips, darkened the skin over her eyes slightly, and brought a bit of colour up to her cheeks, before using a tiny amount of the expensive glitter Lily had shown her.
Finally, she was ready.
"What do you think?" she said, turning one way and the other, trying to see her back.I look so grown-up.
"Meow," said Dumbledore from inside the sleeve of a discarded robe. He'd thoroughly enjoyed dress-up time, apparently deciding that any robe on the floor was meant for him to roll around in.
"You're right," Alex said, biting her lip. "It's too much, isn't it?"
"Meow," said Dumbledore again. Alex sighed.
"Oh well, it's too late now." She looked at her watch. "Oh my goodness! I have to be there in fifteen minutes!"
She hurried out of the bathroom with no small amount of wobbling, unused to walking in heels.These are the most annoying shoes I've ever worn.She didn't have time to put everything away properly, so it all got dumped in a pile on her bed.I'll sort it out later.
She felt rather self-conscious as she left the dorms - half of her wanted to slip out without being seen, but another half secretly hoped that someone would see her all dressed up. In the end she didn't have to worry: with everyone at dinner, Hufflepuff was practically deserted. She headed straight for Dumbledore's office.
"Mars Bar," she said to the gargoyle - Professor Sprout had given the password to her at lunch. She went up the stairs and knocked on the huge oak door.
It opened to reveal Dumbledore as Alex had never seen him. Gone were the bright colours and flamboyant patterns: this Dumbledore wore stately robes of black, with a blood red trim.
"Good evening, Lady Potter," he said, gesturing for her to come inside. The office was more or less the same as before - with one difference. A circular table had been placed in the centre. It was covered with a white cloth and had been set for dinner, with a candle and bottle of wine in the centre. She was suddenly very glad that she'd taken the time to dress up.
"Good evening, Professor Dumbledore," she said nervously, looking around.
"My compliments on your dress. A most sophisticated choice," he said, leading Alex to the table; she realised there weren't any chairs. Before she could say anything, Dumbledore flicked his wand and she felt a chair nudging the back of her knees. She sat, and allowed the chair to wiggle her into place. "Incidentally, as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and a member of the Privy Council, it would be correct to address me as 'Lord Dumbledore' in formal situations."
Alex blushed, looking nervously at all the different kinds of forks around her setting. How many mistakes was she going to make?
"Sorry, Lord Dumbledore," she said.If I make mistakes I'll make them. But I won't make them twice.
"Only the first time you address me," he said as he too sat. "A conversation would be far too cluttered with all those titles floating around, don't you think? After the first time 'sir' is sufficient."
Alex nodded.
"Of course the same applies to yourself," he continued, "I should address you thereafter as 'ma'am'. Though as my student and a minor, the situation is somewhat more complicated. Now, do you drink wine?"
"No, sir," Alex said. The Dursleys didn't like wine, and she wouldn't have been offered it anyway. Not that she felt any particular desire - she'd had a sip of Vernon's beer once, and it was disgusting.
"Well, it is time for you to start," said Dumbledore, vanishing the cork with his wand. "Hogwarts has a large collection of both Muggle and wizarding wines. This one is Muggle made - a particularly fine vintage from France. 1845 - the year of my birth." He smiled at his little joke, and poured her a small amount, not even filling her glass a third. The dark red liquid looked nice enough. "Go on, take a sip."
She picked up the glass and sipped. Her mouth rebelled at the bitter taste - it was absolutely terrible. But with Dumbledore watching her, she couldn't spit it out. Grimacing, she swallowed, longing for some water to wash it down.
Dumbledore chuckled. "It is an acquired taste. But I foresee many formal dinners in your future, and the ability to drink wine without that grimace will be an important skill."
"It's not exactly what I thought I'd be learning at Hogwarts," said Alex, putting the wine back down. There wasn't any water - it was wine or nothing. She'd just have to go thirsty. "Speaking of learning, can I ask some questions about Old English?"
"May I," corrected Dumbledore, "and I would be happy to answer any questions you might have. But first: starters." Dumbledore clapped and a plate appeared in front of Alex. The portion was tiny: three circular towers in a row, each consisting of a green paste, a black layer and a white layer on top. "Ah, excellent!" said Dumbledore, and Alex gave him a questioning look. She wasn't sure how to ask "what is it?" without sounding rude.
"Scallops," Dumbledore said, interpreting her look correctly, and he picked up the knife and fork second from the end. "With black pudding and a mint pea purée. Normally served with a white wine, but I think we may break protocol - on this occasion. It would be most irresponsible of me to get a student drunk, after all." He gave her a wink.
Alex smiled and copied him. She had no idea what scallops were, but they were delicious. Some kind of fish, but quite sweet. She wished there were more than three of them - she had to eat very slowly just to stop them from disappearing too fast.
"Now, you have some questions about Old English?"
"Just a couple," she said. Dumbledore gestured for her to go on. "Well, the book I have keeps talking about strong and weak verbs, but, well, I have no idea what it's talking about. It doesn't explain it anywhere - they just assume you know!"
"A common problem with books," said Dumbledore, "especially the more academic ones. The authors, so specialised in their area, often forget what is and isn't common knowledge. Nonetheless, in this case, the explanation is quite simple. The key is how the verb forms the past - or preterite - tense. If the verb ending inflects then it is a weak verb. If the stem of the verb itself changes, then it is a strong verb."
"Oh," said Alex. She'd thought it would be a lot more complicated than that. It was easy! "Thanks." She took another tiny bite.
"I imagine," said Dumbledore, "that you've encountered a certain amount of difficulty in locating suitable books, yes?"
Alex nodded. "Yes," she said. "The language section in the library is big, but none of it is really meant for learning on your own."
"Indeed. After this dinner, I shall lend you a book from my personal collection which I think you will find most enlightening."
"That'd be great, thank you," said Alex.
"And how are your other classes?" asked Dumbledore, sipping his wine.
"Oh, very good," said Alex. Her mind went to how boring her history classes were, but she didn't bring it up.Not the time nor the place. "Transfiguration is my favourite, but Charms is good too."
"And Master Veigel?" said Dumbledore.
"Not bad," said Alex. "His English is getting loads better. And his classes are always very... practical."
"Oh?" said Dumbledore. "Do I detect a hint of dissatisfaction?"
"Well, like I said, the classes aren'tbad. And itisfun, learning new spells all the time. But... I don't really feel like I've learned much, you know? Just a collection of spells." She paused, and grinned. "I think I'm the only one who feels that way, though. All the others love him."
"You have good instincts," said Dumbledore. "It is far better to have mastered one spell - to truly understand it, right to its roots - than it is to have a basic familiarity with a large repertoire. It is for this reason that Hogwarts students learn relatively few spells in their early years here. You are digging a foundation, deep and wide. Then, later, it will be easy for you to build on that foundation."
They finished their starters, and their plates disappeared. Dumbledore clapped once more, and new plates appeared – the main course. The food was, once again, delicately presented. Some kind of tiny chicken, glistening with golden brown skin, was sitting on a bed of creamy mashed potato, with vegetables arranged in a circle around it.Nowhere near enough gravy, Alex thought the moment she saw it. But still, it looked delicious.
Though she didn't like it, she sipped at her wine again, waiting for Dumbledore to start so she could copy his cutlery selection. It was a good thing she did, as he seemed to pick them entirely at random.I always thought you worked your way from the outside in, Alex thought. But apparently it was much more complicated.
"You may be interested to know that Flora Darlington has been given a three day suspension," said Dumbledore as she began carving at her bird. Alex almost cut herself in surprise.
"What? How come?" she said. She'dtoldhim - it wasn't Flora's fault.
"Hogwarts takes a hard policy on the use of the Dark Arts, Alex. You should not underestimate the severity of the prank played upon you - without access to one as skilled in Healing as Professor Snape, you could have been stuck like that for your entire life."
"My whole life?" she said. She imagined, briefly, never being able to speak again. "I didn't know it was so... permanent."
"Permanency is the hallmark of the Dark Arts - that is why we take their use so seriously. When you cast Dark Magic, you are committing yourself entirely to a course of action. Often there is no going back."
A thought occurred to Alex as she tried one of the tiny, perfectly cut carrots. They were surprisingly sweet. "But... doesn't that make Transfiguration a form of Dark magic? True Transfiguration, I mean."
"Ah. I can see why you would think that. But no - true Transfiguration, while permanent in that it will not undo itself, is nottrulypermanent. A skilled witch or wizard can still reverse the transformation."
"But there are Dark Transfigurations, aren't there?" said Alex. Dumbledore gave her a piercing look.Is it just me, or is it really hot in here?
"Indeed," said Dumbledore, sighing. He was oddly sombre. "Such magic is called Transmogrification. It is natural, Alex, for a witch such as yourself to be curious about these things. But please: be very careful where such curiosity leads you. You may end up paying a price you did not expect."
Alex shifted in her seat. She was beginning to sweat, and her tummy was flipping uncomfortably. She'd lost all hunger completely. In fact, as she thought about it more, she began to feel slightly nauseous. Alex looked at her food. Five minutes ago it had looked so attractive. Now the thought of putting another forkful in her mouth made her feel dizzy.Was it the wine? Am I drunk?
She took the smallest bite she possibly could - a tiny nibble, really - and tried to distract herself by talking.
"I went down to the workshop, yesterday," she said, trying to keep her breathing under control.I will not throw up on Albus Dumbledore.
"Indeed?" said Dumbledore, who appeared to be watching her with some concern. "I don't think a student has used that place for actual Transfiguration for over thirty years - not since poor Bertie Haverhill accidentally transfigured himself a wooden leg."
I will not throw up on Albus Dumbledore.Was her heart beating harder than normal?
"It was very dirty," she said, struggling to focus. "But also very-" The room span, and she had to put her fork down.
"My girl, are you quite all right?" said Dumbledore, leaning forward.
"I'm not feeling too good," said Alex. The beat of her heart was getting louder. She could feel it in her ears. In her jaw.
Dumbledore sat back in his chair.
"Yes," he said. He looked utterly calm. Cheerful, even. "That would be the poison I put in your carrots."
It was a sign on Alex's mental state that at first she only nodded in agreement. But then his words caught up with her.
"What?" she said, and she tried to stand up. The room span once more; her knees gave way, sending her back into her chair. "I – I don't understand."
"It is quite simple," said Dumbledore, not moving. His eyes never left Alex. "I laced your carrots withCharlotte's Revenge. You are currently experiencing nausea, dizziness, weakness in your limbs, palpitations and fever. In two minutes your heart will stop beating."
The room was getting blurry now, and Dumbledore's words barely registered.I'm dying?Her breathing quickened further.I don't want to die.
"Why?" she said – though it came out more as a sob.
Dumbledore stood up.I don't want to die."Ms Darlington's prank revealed a rather significant flaw in your protections," he said, coming around the table to place a hand on the back of Alex's chair. Alex tried to look up at him, or to reach for her wand, but she had lost her coordination entirely.Please, oh god, I don't want to die."A potentially fatal flaw."
But Alex wasn't listening, now. Everything was spinning, blurry. She was so hot. Her stomach lurched, and she felt herself throw up.
"Oh dear," said Dumbledore, and everything went black.
The word returned with vivid clarity. She was clear headed; her heart was fine.
"I do, of course, have the antidote," said Dumbledore, peering down at her. She was still sitting in the chair.Did I throw up?If she had, there was no evidence of it. In fact, there was very little evidence of anything – she felt fine. More or less.
"How do you feel?" said Dumbledore.
"Tired," said Alex, looking up at him with a mixture of fear and thanks. "Relieved."
Dumbledore nodded to himself, before picking up Alex's fork and spearing a carrot with it.
"Here. Try the carrot," he said. Alex gaped at him.
"But-"
"- it is laced with poison, yes. But I have the antidote. Now, try the carrot."
Alex looked between Dumbledore and the carrot, glistening innocently before her. She'd trusted him so far.He doesn't want to kill me, she thought.
She took the fork and, gingerly, bit into the carrot.
"How does it taste?" said Dumbledore.
"Like a carrot," said Alex. "Sweet."
"Sweeter than a normal carrot?" said Dumbledore.
Alex thought about it. "I guess," she said. She started to sweat. "Can I have the antidote?"
Dumbledore produced a thin vial from his sleeve. "Stick out your tongue," he said. He allowed a single drop to fall and she felt instantly better. Dumbledore returned to his side of the table. "Today you imbibedCharlotte's Revenge. Should you ever feel these symptoms again following a sweet food, you will have less than four minutes to take the antidote."
Alex licked her lips. Would someone really try to kill her?
"I would prefer to not to eat it in the first place," she said, sitting up properly. To her disbelief, she found that she was hungry once more. Starving, in fact.
"Indeed," said Dumbledore, and he started to eat, as if nothing had happened. "Regretfully, we must remember who you are. When it comes to assassination attempts, it is not so much a matter ofifaswhen."
Alex stared at him for a moment, before looking at her own food.I guess if I avoid the carrots it'll be fine. She took up a different fork and took a large forkful of potato.
"There is one last task I would like you to perform," said Dumbledore as she chewed.Please don't make it be more poison."Please smell the carrot."
Just smell? Well, that isn't so bad.She picked up the half eaten carrot and brought it to her nose. Dumbledore waited patiently - it took her a moment to get it.
"Lavender?" she said, not quite sure.
"Exactly," said Dumbledore. "Charlotte's Revenge smells slightly of lavender. You can use this knowledge to avoid the need for an antidote."
"Oh," said Alex, putting the carrot down. "That's good to know."Why couldn't he have just told me that?A thought occurred to her. "But aren't there loads of poisons? How is knowing just one going to help?"
Dumbledore smiled. There was something predatory about it, Alex thought. Something dangerous.
"I had a remarkably similar thought," he said. "And so, for the foreseeable future you will be eating dinner with me. Each day I shall place a poison in your food. You must endeavor to avoid the poison - or at the very least, identify it the moment you ingest it."
Alex didn't reply - it wasn't like he was giving her a choice.But what about my friends?
"We will continue until you are able to successfully avoid the worst poisons. Of course we can't cover all of them, but we can, at the least, protect you against those which kill the quickest."
"I don't know anything about poisons," Alex said. It wasn't fair - without any preparation, she'd just eat poison after poison. One near-death experience was quite enough for Alex.
Dumbledore waved his wand, and a thin book sailed off one of his shelves, gliding over to land softly next to Alex. The green leather cover bore no title, nor author. She flipped it open and was surprised to find that it was handwritten.Poisons, the first page declared plainly, and it went straight into explanation - no contents, no introduction.
"You will read this book as quickly as possible," he said. "But at no point shall you attempt to brew the contents. Nor will you share the book with anyone else - or even let them know of its existence. Do you give your word to this effect?"
"I promise," said Alex. She wouldn't let him down. She turned back to the book and leafed through the pages under Dumbledore's watchful eye. It was immediately obvious that the knowledge within was the kind normally housed in the Restricted Section. It didn't just talkaboutthe poisons. It gave exact instructions on how to make them, and even suggestions on their delivery.
"Time for dessert, I think," said Dumbledore, and the their main course disappeared. "I believe you were about to tell me about the wonders of our workshop."
And so it went. Every night Alex would dress up and head for Dumbledore's office like a prisoner to be hanged, dreading the meal to come. And every night Dumbledore would poison her - often a new poison, but sometimes one he had used before.
More often than not, she would eat the poison. It didn't help that Dumbledore wouldn't let her inspect the food properly.
"You won't be able to sniff at everything at a Ministry Ball, or even in the Great Hall," he said, the first time she spent five minutes smelling her cabbage. "You must learn to detect these things more subtly. Take your time while eating. Drink some wine, engage in conversation. And all the time, pay attention to your senses."
Alex read the book on poisons cover to cover, and then she read it again. Being poisoned every night was a powerful motivator: it took over her life. Though she remained diligent in all her classes, her other reading was put aside in favour of books on Potions and poisons. On some days she even forgot about her argument with Susan, who continued to ignore her. The only people she spoke to beyond a simple "good morning" were Lily and Draco - and even then, she often cut their conversations short to go and study.
All that study worked: to Alex's great surprise, she began to get better. At first it had seemed so impossible - how on earth was she meant to look out for so many different scents, so many different tastes and changes in colour? And do it all while appearing to eat normally? But what had seemed a bewildering mass of information slowly became something more instinctive. She detected her first poisonbeforeeating it near the end of October, two weeks after they had started. And, when Dumbledore surprised her by poisoning her wine on November 6th, she had gone three days without almost dying.
The Headmaster stretched her in other ways too. One day she turned up only to be greeted with a cheerful "intrate!". Dinner that evening was conducted entirely in Latin, and Alex was so busy muttering conjugations under her breath that she forgot about the poison completely. Half an hour later she was frothing from the mouth as Regis Fata took effect.
An inadvertent side effect of all those dinners was that she learnt all about fine dining. It only took a couple of weeks for her to get used to cutlery selection, and she'd been introduced to so many foods she'd never known existed. If she hadn't been so worried about dying, she might have even enjoyed it - though she still had no great love for red wine.
A fortnight into November, Dumbledore announced the end of her training.
"I must say, Alex, you've learnt this far quicker than I expected," he said as they began dessert. The butter with their bread had been mixed withLiar's Salt, and the white wine showed signs of Mongolian lemon.
Alex let her fork slide into her Humble Pie, but didn't go in for a bite. She let the smell of the pie fill her nose while she pretended to sip some wine. Rose. In... the cream - it's slightly pink. Not falling for that one again.
"Well, I had a good teacher," she said after carefully sliding the cherries from the edge. They were suspiciously wrinkled - a classic sign of Hag's spit.He's gone all out today. Is there anything here I can actually eat?"Would you like my cherries?" she asked. "I've never liked them."
Dumbledore smiled, and it filled Alex with pride. She'd learnt something of Dumbledore's different smiles, by now. Sometimes he smiled like you were a pet entertaining its owner. Other times he smiled when he was annoyed. But this smile - this one was for when he was actually impressed. "No thank you, my girl. I think I have enough of my own."
It wasn't long before the pie was finished and their dinner ended.
"Tomorrow, I think, you may return to eating dinner in the Great Hall," said Dumbledore. "I'm sure your friends have been eagerly awaiting your return."
Alex wasn't too sure about that. Lily and Draco remained the only friends she had, and neither of them filled the gap Susan had left. In truth, she would miss her dinners with Dumbledore - poison and all.
"I have your books," she said, and she put the book on poisons on the table, along with a couple of others he'd lent her along the way. A flick of his wand and they returned to the shelves. A brief silence followed. "Thank you for doing this for me," she said, looking at her bowl. It didn't take a genius to figure out Dumbledore was a very busy man.
"It was my pleasure, Alex," said Dumbledore. "I believe I shall miss your company. But young ladies should not spend all their evenings locked up in a tower. It is time for you to return to normality. To think of things other than death and assassination."
"Itwouldbe nice to read something other than potions," said Alex. "But what will everyone say?"
"A cover story has been arranged. You have recently recovered from Gibbon's Gripe - a particularly nasty transmissible hex, no doubt picked up in Hogsmeade one day. I have arranged for the Obliviation of any who have seen you walking to and from my office in the evenings, so you needn't worry about that. As far as the school is concerned, you have spent every dinner in the Hospital Wing being fed all manner of disgusting potions."
Not so far from the truth, Alex thought.
"That would explain all the potions books, too..." she said.
"Yes," said Dumbledore, and it occurred to Alex that he had, of course, thought it through quite thoroughly. He stood up, and Alex followed suit. "Well, Alex," he said as he showed her to the door, "for the last time - for now - I wish you goodnight."