A Little Knowledge

The North Tower was deserted that Saturday afternoon as Corinna reluctantly climbed the stairs to visit Professor Mallaghan in his office. Quite frankly, she would have rather been in the common room with the rest of her house, which had been sequestered there due to the events of the night before and the continuing search in the Forbidden Forest. But she had agreed to have a talk with the Divinations’ professor, and there was nothing for it.

No one had warned her that the North Tower was very large and somewhat labyrinthine, and given the circumstances, rather spooky too. It had not helped that Peeves, the resident poltergeist, had popped out from behind a suit of armor and scared her at the bottom of the tower. So that explained why her heart was pounding in her ears as she looked for any sign of an office near the top.

The sound of a door opening behind her made Corinna start and turn, fumbling inexpertly for her wand.

Professor Mallaghan was standing there, regarding her curiously.

“This is the easiest way to reach my office and classrooms, but if you would prefer to climb ...” he said with a smile, gesturing to an overhead trap door.

“No thank you,” she said quietly, following him through the hidden door and up a narrow staircase to a classroom.

“Please, have a seat,” he said, gesturing to a number of comfortable chairs near the window.

Corinna nodded mutely and took a seat in an overstuffed, but faded blue chair. She glanced at the forest outside. The search was still going on out there, and as far as she knew, it was not going very well.

She turned as Joseph drew up a chair for himself, moving it so they were sitting nearly knee to knee, which made Corinna rather uncomfortable.

“May I see your palm, my dear?” he asked with a smile, holding out his own hand to her.

Corinna, knowing only a bit about palmistry, hesitated, worried about what he would see there or what would be revealed.

“Why?” she questioned nervously.

“It is often the easiest way to learn if someone has the talent, and palmistry is my specialty,” he answered, “but you need not feel obligated.”

She hesitated a moment longer before holding out her right hand to him.

He chuckled and said, “It will be on your other hand, my dear. What is inside a person is seldom written in plain sight.”

Corinna blushed and held out her other hand to Professor Mallaghan. He took it gently and smiled at her again. Studying her hand for a moment, he nodded and traced a faint line on her palm. Then he furrowed his brow and began examining other lines at length. Corinna merely resisted the urge to squirm.

He looked up with a snap and released her hand with a murmured apology.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“You are quite fascinating for a witch of mixed parentage,” he said bluntly, but with a certain kindness still in his eyes. Mallaghan came from a proud and ancient wizarding family in Ireland himself, but he had very little of the prejudice and animosity that many purebloods harbored.

“That’s written there too?” asked Corinna.

“Oh, yes, much is written there. Too much, by my reckoning.”

“Is that ... bad?” she asked, examining her own palm, but seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Only lines, some deep and some shallow, some short and some long.

“It is neither here nor there,” he replied, patting her knee. “But you do have the talent, and as much of it as I have ever seen,” Joseph added. “It must be a tremendous burden to you already.”

“It ... it can be,” she admitted, looking down at her lap and clenching her hands together.

“I have something of the Sight myself, though not terribly much compared to some,” he explained, “so I understand a bit of what it’s like.”

“Is there any way to stop it or control it?” she asked.

“No, child, there really isn’t. Ignoring it ... that’s nearly impossible, but sometimes it’s the only thing to do,” he said.

Corinna’s eyes filled with tears. Somewhere in the back of her mind she had been hoping that the professor could tell her how to make the ‘talent’ go away or to stop seeing the future. She felt as though, given what had happened the night before, the responsibility was too great for her.

“Poor lass, I know it’s difficult. My son had the talent too. He always thought it was his responsibility to change things, to make things turn out better. It tore him up inside, all of that knowledge,” said Mallaghan in a sad voice.

“What happened to him, sir?” asked Corinna with a slight sniff.

“He died in France when he was about Professor Knowles’ age,” answered Joseph.

“In the war against ...”

“No,” Joseph interrupted, “near Sedan. He was trying to warn the villagers about an attack, but the muggles used one of their mechanical wands on him and he died. I think he knew he was going to.”

“I’m sorry ...” she stammered, looking up with the tears still in her eyes.

“No matter. It was a long time ago,” he said. “Might I ask you a few more questions now?”

“Of course,” she said, shifting in her seat.

“What was your first sign of magic?”

“The ... talent,” she answered quietly. “I was three years old, and I knew mum was going to be in an accident in her muggle automobile. She was. Her leg was broken in three places.”

“Must have been very frightening to know that,” said Joseph.

“Yes, sir, it was,” she nodded.

“Mine was turning my maiden aunt’s hair green,” he said with a chuckle, almost as though he were trying to get her to laugh too. Corinna could only manage a teary-eyed smile.

“I bet that gave her a start,” she said.

“Er ... it was at her funeral,” he said. Corinna’s eyes widened, but she couldn’t think of anything to say to that. “My folks weren’t too terribly pleased,” he added.

“No ...” she agreed faintly.

Joseph grew somber and said, “I want to ask you a hard question now, but you don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to.”

“All right,” she said, bracing herself.

“Have you ever foreseen your own death?”

Corinna looked at him, searching his face for a moment and wondering why he should ask such a morbid question. She thought of what he must have seen in her palm and resisted the urge to shudder.

“No, I haven’t,” she answered.

Corinna found that she wanted to ask him the same thing, but couldn’t. It was too strange and grisly, and she rather imagined that he had. That was a chilling thought if ever there was one.

“Good, lass, very good,” he said, patting her knee again. “Would you like some tea before you go?”

She blinked at him for a moment, but said, “No, thank you, professor.”

“Very well,” he said, sliding his chair back and gazing toward the window. “Any ideas on when they will find Cyrus ... Professor Knowles, I mean?” he asked her.

“No,” she answered.

“Well, such things don’t come for the asking. Say a little prayer for him if you’re so inclined,” he told Corinna, leaving his seat.

She did the same and followed him out of the classroom and back to the main corridor of the tower.

“Same time next Saturday?” he questioned expectantly.

Corinna considered it for a moment, realizing that she felt much better after talking to Mallaghan.

“All right,” she agreed.

“Wonderful. I shall be looking forward to it, Miss Bellew,” he said with a smile before retreating back into his classroom.

The rest of that Saturday was spent within the confines of Ravenclaw tower until the prefects escorted them to dinner and back again. Sophia, Sissy, Olivia, and Martin had questioned Corinna at length about her meeting with Professor Mallaghan, but her answers remained vague and cryptic.

“But he does believe you have the gift?” pressed Olivia as they sat around the common room, taking a break from their studies that Corinna was not certain that she could afford.

“Yes,” she replied evenly, not bothering to add that she possessed it in great measure.

“Is he going to be tutoring you or something?” asked Sophia.

“I’m not certain,” she shrugged, unsure of how to characterize the meeting. Tutoring? Not especially. It was more like counseling of sorts.

“Professor Mallaghan seems nice,” offered Olivia.

Corinna risked a smile and answered, “Yes, he is very kind and understanding. I never realized that I wasn’t the only who felt this way about ... about what I can do.”

“That must be a comfort to know,” said Sophia with an understanding look her eyes.

“It is,” Corinna nodded.

Sissy, who had been watching the signals outside, which were more distant now than ever, coming up from the Forbidden Forest, turned and asked, “Do you think they’ll find him?” She wasn’t addressing anyone in particular, but Corinna felt as though Sissy were asking her.

“Of course. It’s only a matter of time,” said Martin with a slight shrug.

“I agree,” said Corinna quietly.

“Well, everyone knows the rumors about him, how he was a volunteer Auror in France during the war, so we should assume that he can handle himself,” said Sophia placidly.

Sissy’s eyes narrowed slightly at the her friends’ indifference. He was her favorite professor, no matter how much he managed to unnerve her, not to mention nearly everyone else. If he died out there ... She shuddered and pushed the troublesome thought away. Knowles could take care of himself and any Dark Creature he might encounter.

“Except that he doesn’t believe in the study of Dark Creatures,” she reminded herself unhappily.

“I’m going to turn in,” said Corinna. “Will any of you be joining me for breakfast tomorrow morning after practice?”

“I will,” said Martin brightly.

“Me too,” said Olivia.

“I will make an effort,” said Sissy evenly before picking up her defense text and resuming her studying.

Sophia merely looked sheepish, but Corinna understood completely. She would not be out of bed so early herself if it were not required of her.

As Corinna trudged in from a rather rigorous practice the next morning, she was surprised to see all of her friends waiting for her in the Entrance Hall, even Sophia, who was blinking and yawning quite a bit as she leaned against the nearest wall.

“There was a commotion in the forest about a quarter of an hour ago. It woke all of us up, so we figured we would all come down and see ...” began Sophia tiredly.

“If I knew anything? I didn’t hear it, but I’ve been in the locker rooms,” said Corinna, shaking her head. “What do you think it was?” she asked, glancing at wide-awake Martin and Olivia.

All of them appeared to have dressed in a rush, especially Martin whose shoes did not match. Only Sissy had someone managed to arrive looking perfectly kempt and attired. Corinna had to wonder how she had done it so with so little time, but her friend did know a vast array of grooming charms..

“We think they’ve found Professor Knowles,” said Sissy solemnly, “but there’s no way to know in what condition ... unless we wait for them here.”

She did not bother to add that they had not got permission from the prefects nor anyone else to leave the tower. They had merely slipped out while everyone else was crowding the windows and pestering the prefects.

“I see ...” said Corinna.

She wasn’t disappointed that the only reason they came down for breakfast was curiosity over what had happened to the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. In fact she was rather pleased to see them down at all as usually only Olivia and Martin would share the morning meal with her on the weekends. This was, despite the seriousness of the situation, rather like a treat.

“How long do think they’ll be?” asked Olivia.

“If he’s hurt ... not long,” said Sissy quietly.

Sophia gave her a pitying glance, knowing how much she liked their defense teacher. Honestly, she could hardly understand why as the man was rather harsh and quite strange, but she knew that each of them had a favorite professor and they would all be equally crushed if something happened to that professor. For Sophia, that was Professor Krohn. For Olivia, Professor Flitwick, and, to a lesser degree, the headmaster. For Sissy, Professor Knowles. She was not certain whom Martin or Corinna held in highest esteem. She almost assumed with Martin that it was his father. But Corinna seemed almost reluctant to choose a favorite, although Sophia well imagined that Mallaghan might fill that void.

The sound of voices outside caused them to exchange hopeful and worried glances just moments later. The doors magically burst open to admit a throng of professors gathered around a floating stretcher. Sissy eased forward to get a better look as Flitwick and Vector debated the virtues of dragging the stretcher up the stairs to the hospital wing versus using a Mobilicorpus spell on its occupant.

Knowles was lying on the stretcher with one arm dangling loosely over the side and the other draped over his midsection. His robes were torn and bloodied. A thin rivulet of the same dark crimson liquid coursed down his arm and dripped almost audibly onto the stone floor of the castle. Sissy inhaled sharply as she saw his pallid, nearly gray-hued face. Blood seemed to be oozing from beneath his eyelids, and his skin was a very sickly contrast to the bright red stains.

“Is he dead?” she asked as her eyes darted from one professor to another. She felt light-headed as she asked the question and was relieved when Martin calmly stepped forward too and placed a hand on her back to help steady her.

“Hardly,” said the man on the stretcher.

All of the professors stopped talking and stared at Knowles. They had obviously not realized that he could hear them, that he was, in fact, conscious.

“Cyrus? Are you in very much pain?” asked Professor Sprout, who had gone out just that morning after Dippet had acknowledged the need for reinforcements. Her normally cheerful face was pale with concern.

“It’s excruciating, Agatha, but I’ll manage somehow,” Knowles replied with characteristic coolness.

“We’ve got to get him to Madam Pomfrey,” urged Professor Dumbledore, who did not look very pleased to see his son standing there gawking with his friends. There were a few shallow but bloody scratches on the professor’s face, and his nose appeared to have been broken ... again. He dabbed at it with his sleeve, but it no longer seemed to be bleeding.

“I’ll take him,” volunteered Krohn in quiet, yet firm voice. His complexion appeared to be almost ashen. Whatever he had seen in the forest must have been horrible. In fact the horror of the previous day and two nights shone unconcealed in his eyes.

“I won’t have you tossing me about like a rag doll, Reynard,” objected Knowles, holding out his hand in a gesture meant to stop the potions’ master.

“You have to be careful. He’s ...” began the headmaster.

“Injured. I know,” said Reynard sharply, cutting off Dippet, who was holding up his wand, obviously having conjured the stretcher for the ailing defense professor. He was continuing to keep it levitated.

“I’ll alert Madam Pomfrey,” Professor Vector decided before hitching up her robes and running up the stairs that led to the hospital wing.

The five Ravenclaws watched with a little bit of awe as Krohn lifted his colleague from the stretcher bodily and hefted him over his shoulder. None of them had realized that the potions’ master was so strong, not even after watching him handle much slimmer Zabini.

With a quick nod to the headmaster, he started up the stairs after Beatrice with Flitwick, Sprout, and Dippet himself on his heels. Dumbledore remained behind, touching his nose gingerly as he approached the students.

“Father, is he going to all right?” asked Martin in a quavering voice. The girls had never heard the two of them speak outside the classroom before.

“Only Madam Pomfrey can say for certain,” he replied as he looked them over.

“What happened?” Martin inquired cautiously.

“I believe that is a question for another time,” said Dumbledore sternly, looking over his glasses, which appeared to have seen some wear.

“And your nose?” asked Martin with a pronounced wince. He stood on tip-toe to reach up and touch his father’s face, examining the damage that had been done. The tall professor leaned down a bit to accommodate him. “Mum’s going to have a fit if you don’t get that taken care of properly,” he said.

It was the second time something like that had happened. The first time was during the war when the elder Dumbledore had taken a Stunning Spell to the face, breaking his nose and knocking him unconscious.

“Of that there can be no doubt,” chuckled Dumbledore, catching his son’s hands and squeezing them. “But Madam Pomfrey will be otherwise engaged for a few hours,” he added.

Martin nodded that he understood and said, “Just the same, if it doesn’t shape up a bit, mum will go spare next times she sees you.”

Dumbledore smiled, and winced, at his bluntness, which was a trait he had inherited from his mother.

“I’ll get some ice for it from the house elves,” he assured Martin.

“Professor,” said Sissy, “please, can’t you tell us something about what happened to Professor Knowles?” She looked at him expectantly.

Sissy understood that the professor could no more tell her whether Knowles would be all right than Corinna could, but she knew by his bloodied and disheveled state that he could tell her at least something of what had happened in the Forbidden Forest.

“Miss Howard ...”

“Please?” she pleaded as Olivia put a warning hand on her shoulder.

Dumbledore sighed softly and removed his glasses, examining them for a moment before taking his wand from his pocket to repair them with a quiet incantation. He returned them to his face and looked at Sissy again.

“Your concern is commendable, but I do not think it is advisable at this point in time,” he said. “I assume you were all on your way to breakfast. You should probably continue there,” Dumbledore told them before walking away.

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