A Little Knowledge

“Martin Bedivere Achilles Dumbledore!” called the surprised, and perhaps slightly annoyed, voice that awakened Martin the next morning.

Martin’s eyes snapped open almost against his will. It felt too early to be awakened so suddenly, but with that rude awakening, he was aware of several things, and all at once too. There was something heavy resting on his left shoulder. Another mysterious something was draped across his stomach, seemingly from right to left. And, he realized, his father had just yelled at him using his full name, even the heinous middle name his mother had insisted upon: Achilles. Two more realizations hit him. Sissy had her head resting on his shoulder, and Olivia’s arm was draped over him. They were quickly removed.

“Father?” he stammered, sitting up very quickly and blinking at the sunlight that was streaming in through one of the far windows.

Sissy and Olivia, probably sensing that the professor was not entirely pleased this morning, edged as far away from Martin as they could. Sissy had turned the color of a ripe tomato. Olivia looked a bit perplexed and confused, which was certainly not the norm for her in the morning.

“Father? What are you doing here?” asked Martin stupidly. The head of Gryffindor house most certainly wasn’t allowed in the Aerie! Right?

“Never mind that. Please get up, Martin,” said Professor Dumbledore, looking over his spectacles at his son, who surrounded by four young witches, and was quite the spectacle himself. “I’ve been looking for you for nearly twenty minutes,” he added with a frown that Martin knew all too well. It was the same one his father used when he was late for dinner in the summer.

“Of course,” he stammered, clambering none too gracefully from the sleeping bag.

Martin noticed with some chagrin that other students, just getting up themselves, were staring at him, many of them with curious or else mirthful expressions, as he left the secluded nook. A few of the older girls were laughing or giggling behind their hands.

“What’s the matter?” asked Martin as his father took him by the arm and pulled him toward the portrait hole.

“I know your head of house segregated the common room. What ever were you doing on the wrong side of the room with those girls?” asked Dumbledore with a slightly bewildered and perturbed expression as they left the common room.

“Girls? Plural? You?” chortled Gentleman in his Study loudly after them as they started down the stairs.

“Sleeping!” answered Martin, who was of course still in his rumpled nightclothes. “I don’t understand,” he protested, trying to ignore the burning cold of the steps beneath his bare feet. “What’s going on, Father?” he asked.

Dumbledore frowned at the confused look on his son’s face and paused, well out of earshot of Gentleman in his Study, which was a notorious gossip-monger.

“You must have realized what sort of awkward questions are raised when a young man spends the night with a group of young women,” said the aging professor. Somewhere up the stairs he could still hear the portrait figure chortling.

Martin looked at his father blankly. Then he blushed. “I know I wasn’t supposed to be on their side of the room, but they’re my friends and they wanted me there with them after what had happened. I didn’t want to tell them no and have to spend the rest of the night by myself,” he answered.

Dumbledore thought this over for a moment, trying to see the situation from the perspective of his adolescent son. It seemed rather innocent when he looked at it like that.

“Perhaps I’ve acted hastily,” he said, putting a hand on Martin’s shoulder, “but please consider your future conduct more carefully in regards to sleeping with girls.”

Martin looked at him blankly again, but felt a bit relieved.

“All right ...” he replied with a nod.

“I was supposed to fetch you for the headmaster, and I wanted to be sure you were all right. I believe we can spare a few moments if you want to get dressed first,” he told Martin.

“I’d rather if I’m going to see Professor Dippet,” answered Martin. His heart was pounding for a different reason now. Why ever did the headmaster want to see him? It couldn’t be for anything good.

“Hurry then. We mustn’t keep him waiting as he is very busy after last night’s excitement,” his father told him before ushering him on his way.

Gentleman in his Study was still laughing to himself when Martin was readmitted to the Aerie.

Martin joined his father again at the bottom of the tower and followed quickly after him in the direction of the headmaster’s office.

“You must have had quite a night, facing the vampire again,” Dumbledore commented as he slowed his pace so that Martin could keep up.

“At least I wasn’t alone this time,” he shrugged. “The other boys did their part or else I think it would have had us.”

Dumbledore put arm around Martin’s shoulders as they walked. The younger wizard smiled up at him.

“You did very well. I’m proud of you, and I’m glad you’re all right,” his father told him.

“Thank you,” said Martin.

“Professor Dippet wishes to ask you some questions about the incident,” Dumbledore informed him.

“Why me?”

“Because of your involvement earlier this term and perhaps because you are my son,” replied the professor coolly. The slight twinkle in his eyes did not go unnoticed.

“I don’t understand. Why does it matter that I’m your son?” asked Martin.

“The headmaster is a very shrewd man and a good judge of character. We’ve got on well over the years. I suppose he’s hoping that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” said Dumbledore.

“But it fell into another house,” Martin muttered to himself.

“Armando’s own, actually,” his father chuckled.

When they arrived, they found Professor Dippet at his desk with quill in hand, scratching out a reply to a letter while an anxious owl eyed him from the corner of his desk. To Martin he seemed very tired. His creased brow made him appear even older and more than a bit unhappy as well.

“Just a moment,” he said without looking up. If he knew who had entered his office and approached his desk, he gave no sign of it. “Please have a seat,” he added absent-mindedly.

The two Dumbledores did so in silence. Martin looked at his father questioningly, but the professor only motioned for him to sit still and be quiet.

“I’m requesting an Auror from the Ministry,” said Dippet as he looked up and began folding his letter.

“By name?” asked Dumbledore, shifting ever-so-slightly in his seat.

“I know your wife’s in the field, Albus, so I’ve asked for someone else. Anyone else really,” said Armando with a smile. “Can you imagine working with her?’ he asked as he gave the parchment to owl, which flew away immediately.

“Not as an Auror,” said Dumbledore.

“Now, Albus, you know she’s good at what she does,” chuckled Armando, looking younger and less tired as he laughed.

“Oh, yes, she’s very good, but life at Hogwarts isn’t exactly compatible with her techniques,” said Albus with a more subtle look of amusement as he imagined his wife sweeping through the halls with her wand raised and that special Aurorly gleam in her dark eyes.

“She might make a fine professor someday,” said Dippet, growing more somber again.

“I sent her the letter. She never replied,” said Dumbledore, glancing at Martin, who was listening with interest. “I’ve brought my son,” he said.

“I can see that,” said Dippet with a patient smile. He leaned forward over his desk. “Hello, Mister Dumbledore, I’ve heard that you had another brush with our visitor,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” answered Martin.

“I want to send a description of the vampire to the Ministry. They have a registry there, so they might be able to tell us who he is, or rather, was. Can you describe him for me?” asked the headmaster.

“Of course. We all got a very good look at him,” said Martin before describing the vampire to him.

Armando Dippet nodded very thoughtfully when Martin had finished his description. The young wizard certainly seemed to have kept his head during the encounter, which was quite commendable. Thinking back to his own school days, he could only imagine the confusion and panic that a vampire in the dormitories, an uninvited one no less, would have caused. The first year Ravenclaws had done well.

But Professor Dumbledore, on the other hand, appeared to be brooding, and Martin longed to ask him what he was thinking about.

“Very good, Mister Dumbledore. Fifteen points to Ravenclaw house for your helpful observations. I’m sure your head of house will award points to the other young wizards for their part as well,” said Dippet.

“Thank you, sir,” said Martin. “May I ask a question?”

“Of course,” nodded Dippet.

“What’ll be done about keeping it out, professor? I mean, I thought the common room, and the dormitories too, were safe from being invaded like this,” he said.

“The windows will be warded. In fact, I imagine Professor Flitwick is doing the right now as are the other heads of houses,” said Dippet.

Martin glanced at his father.

“Already done,” said Dumbledore with a smile.

He knew that Filius had not slept since the invader was detected. He had been too busy securing the tower. Dumbledore himself had been up much of the night guarding the common room where his students were sleeping, but as soon as they sun began to rise, he went about putting up sufficiently strong wards on all of the dormitory windows, leaving capable Kettleburn to watch over the still sleeping students.

“Then we will be safe?” asked Martin hesitantly.

“Yes,” Dippet nodded with a smile. Father and son were very much alike. “And we will have an Auror stationed here within the week if my request means anything,” he added, glancing at his colleague.

“I’m sure it does,” said the other professor quickly.

“Who knows?” sighed Dippet. “You may go now. I’m sure you’ll be wanting breakfast,” he said to Martin, dismissing him so that he could discuss things further with his deputy.

On his way out he heard the headmaster say, “I hate it that you’ll be inheriting this problem, Albus.”

“Please, Armando, all of this will pass and everything will be just fine in the end,” said Professor Dumbledore.

“Time will tell, I suppose.”

The girls had been uncertain as to what to do when Martin had been dragged away rather abruptly by his father. In the end they had returned to their dormitory and prepared to face the day. As it was already nearly half past nine, they hurried to dress and hoped that breakfast would still be served. They all rather suspected that it would be, and they were starving after the early morning excitement.

“You don’t think Professor Dumbledore is angry with us too?” asked Corinna as she tried unsuccessfully to tame her wild, unruly hair.

“He probably thought something scandalous was going on,” said Sophia grimly as Olivia helped her with her braids, which she gave a sharp tug after Sophia had made that comment. “Ouch! Stop it!” she said, glaring at Olivia’s reflection in the mirror.

“Don’t say things like that! Just because Martin was on the wrong side of the room doesn’t mean that the professor was angry or that it was scandalous,” she protested.

“I hardly think he was pleased,” said Sissy, who was lightening her hair with her wand. It was beginning to turn a strawberry blond color at the roots, and she preferred to keep it a lighter shade.

Corinna rolled her eyes as she watched Sissy, who had been doing this herself since she had started school.

“Martin will probably explain everything,” decided Corinna, who was still thinking she should have seen this coming, the vampire and everything else.

“Of course,” Olivia agreed quickly, “and he’ll tell us so at breakfast.” She added that to hurry the other girls along. She was famished and hoping to see Martin in the Great Hall.

The other students were positively buzzing when they entered the hall, which was filling quickly with hungry and anxious young witches and wizards. They were all only naturally talking about the vampire. The quartet had got it out of their systems in September and October and saw no further need to discuss the topic among themselves in early November. They had nothing to add to such a discussion without Martin’s input.

And where was Martin? He wasn’t at the Ravenclaw table. He was nowhere to be seen.

Corinna frowned as they found seats, noticing that the staff at the high table, which was missing several members, were talking in low whispers among themselves. The heads of the four Hogwarts houses were all missing as was the headmaster. Professor Knowles was frowning deeply as he spoke with Professor Patrick Kettleburn. Professor Vector was leaning toward them to hear what the other two were saying. Surprisingly, Professor Mallaghan was also eating with his fellow faculty members. He seldom left his tower unless called upon to do so. The Muggle Studies professor was whispering something to him with a very nervous look on her face. At her elbow the Astronomy professor narrowed his eyes and shook his head.

Corinna would have given a lot to know what all of them were talking about. Certainly about their early morning visitor. But the specifics were of great interest to her.

The sound of someone taking a seat beside her startled Corinna from her rather gloomy thoughts. She was relieved to see it was Martin.

“Where have you been?” she asked.

“Headmaster’s office,” he said, digging into his breakfast with relish.

The other girls had been doing much the same thing while Corinna had been preoccupied.

“And?” asked Sissy impatiently. “You aren’t in trouble, are you?”

“No, actually I got fifteen points for being able to describe the vampire for Professor Dippet,” he said with a lop-sided smile. “That ought to make a nice dent in Gryffindor’s lead,” he added. “Father was a bit displeased though,” said Martin as an afterthought.

“And it was all our fault,” said Sophia, shaking her head.

“I’m not in any trouble ... unless he writes mum or something,” he said quickly, not wanting them to feel bad about what had happened.

“Nice work with the points though,” said Olivia with a grin.

“Thanks,” said Martin as he shoveled porridge into his mouth, “the headmaster was really generous.”

“Chew, swallow, then talk,” instructed Sissy with a revolted look.

“Sorry,” he said after doing so. His eyes drifted to Corinna and he said, “I think she’s right about the headmaster. He might be leaving ...”

“No!” Olivia objected.

“Are you certain?” asked Sophia with a slight frown.

“Well, my father disagrees, but ... I got the definite impression that the headmaster doesn’t think he’ll be around long enough to handle the vampire situation.”

“I knew it,” muttered Corinna, stabbing her omelet rather forcefully.

“Well, maybe things will work out ...” said Olivia with a glum expression on her face.

“The headmaster is sending for an Auror. Maybe they could catch the vampire, and everything would be all right,” said Martin with a spark of hope.

“Your mum, I hope?” questioned Sissy. “I’d like to meet her,” she added with a slight smile.

“No, she’s in the field and all,” shrugged Martin. He silently added, “My life would be absolute torture with both my parents here.” It gave him chills when he thought about it.

Sophia felt lucky that they weren’t going miss Friday afternoon potions with Professor Krohn as Potions remained her favorite class, despite the fact that the professor had grown more withdrawn and snappish since the beginning of the school year. Not many students, especially the younger ones, realized how difficult the term had been for him. His father had died. He had a student who was now a vampire. And the threat of danger still lingered. If he took out his anxiety on his students, Sophia could understand that. Or she could at least try.

Sissy and Olivia were of a different mind, however, as was Martin who had early morning Potions’ instruction twice a week. The two girls found Krohn to be unbearable with no redeeming qualities whatsoever. He never gave anyone house points, except perhaps his own students and even that had become rather rare. He seldom gave anyone high marks, deserving or not. This rankled a bit with the Ravenclaws. Even Sophia was having difficulty, but she never complained. She just tried to understand and exerted extra effort.

That afternoon Sophia could tell that Krohn was even more temperamental than she had come to expect.

“Today I am going to depart from the lesson plan to teach you something that all of you should know: how to make a tincture of garlic,” announced Krohn.

There were loud groans from around the classroom, which contained Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. That was a mistake, of course.

“Perhaps none of you realize that by ingesting ten drops daily of such a tincture, you make yourselves less appetizing to vampires. It may not repel them entirely, but it makes Ogg’s chickens look more palatable than you would seem. It could save your lives,” he said in a low, dangerous voice that approached a hiss. “It might not be proper potion-making, but the making of tinctures has its uses,” he added, grasping the edges of his desk. His hazel eyes glinted with menace as he glared at them.

“Probably makes you smell nasty too,” said one of the Ravenclaw boys under his breath. It was just loud enough for Sophia, and Professor Krohn, to hear.

“Ten points from Ravenclaw!” he spat. “If you don’t care for the added protection, you can write sixteen inches for me on technique.”

The boy, one of the ‘brutes’ that the girls didn’t like very much, said nothing and looked down at his desk. Chang and the others were glaring at him for his stupidity and lack of discretion.

“All of you think this is some sort of joke, do you not? Oh, a vampire in the castle, how entertaining, how exciting. Maybe it will get us out of class for a day. Maybe we’ll get to see it turn into a bat,” he said in a mocking tone. His knuckles were white as he gripped the desk. A few jars on the shelves behind him rattled.

The students all looked very uncomfortable, very disconcerted by the outburst. The potions’ master had a temper, and no mistake, but much of the time he was indifferent, calmly uncaring, and impassive. His rare moments of ire were always enormous surprises to those upon which they were visited. This occasion was no exception.

“Maybe you just think that such simplistic potions’ work is beneath you. I can assure you that most of you are unfit for anything more complex,” he said, drawing a deep breath. He slowly released his death grip on the desk and stood up straight again. “I expect you to follow the instructions I have on the board,” said Krohn, gesturing behind him, “to the very letter ... in absolute silence. When you are done, I will examine your tinctures and age them for you. Then you will ingest a dose.”

The class did precisely as Professor Krohn instructed. He watched them the entire time from his desk with a menacing look in his eyes. The procedure was relatively simple, especially for Sophia, who was well-versed even in such rudimentary potion-making skills. When she presented the finished product to Krohn, she was the first to do so as the rest of the class was too nervous to approach him.

“Adequate,” he muttered as he waved his wand over the mixture. The pungent aroma of it grew even stronger. “Now, take this and drink,” he commanded, shoving a dropper across the desk at her.

The taste was overwhelming. The nausea was nearly so, but Sophia managed to stomach it, pulling only a slight face and voicing no complaint. She had been given potions far more disgusting to drink before, and this was for a good purpose. She wished in vain that Martin would also be having potions’ before the weekend. If any of them could use some extra protection, it would be him. He had the worst luck by far.

Finishing the assignment meant that Sophia could spend the rest of the class reading a chapter of her potions’ text, although she had read the entirety of it previously, she imagined that their next lesson would be especially difficult to make up for the unexpected lesson in garlic tinctures they had just received. But she found it difficult to concentrate as she kept glancing up at Krohn who was watching the other students or examining their finished concoctions. His low voice didn’t carry to the back of the classroom where she sat with her friends, but she could tell that he was still seething. By the time the class period was over she had made up her mind to do something.

“I’ll meet in you in the library,” she told her friends as they gathered their belongings.

Olivia looked slightly green as the garlic had not agreed with her. The others were wearing sour facial expression that Sophia imagined were also at least partially the result of the tinctures.

They did not object, but Sissy gave her a mildly contemptuous look, as though to say, “I don’t know what you hope to accomplish.”

Sophia ignored her and waited until the other students cleared out of the room.

Krohn had just pulled a metallic clasp from his hair when she chose to make her continuing presence known.

“Professor?”

He looked up sharply and asked, “Are you trying to losing more points for Ravenclaw house, Miss Colville?”

There was a tired and annoyed edge to his voice. For an instant he even seemed to have a discernible accent.

“No, sir, I ... I only wanted to speak with you,” she said, faltering and almost losing her nerve. “I wanted you to know that some of us do take the danger that we’re all in seriously,” she said.

Krohn sighed and rubbed his forehead before reluctantly beckoning her forward with a wave of his hand. Some of the anger and annoyance in his expression faded as Sophia hesitantly approached his desk.

“I know that you, and possibly your friends, are more ... aware of the situation than your peers. Your perspectives are unique. You saw what it was capable of that night,” he said slowly.

Sophia knew that he meant the night when Andrea Zabini was bitten and Martin was attacked.

“But your classmates ... my father would have called them fools and children. And perhaps they still are just children. They don’t understand, not even the ones who are afraid. They don’t understand that their lives are in jeopardy. The young, you see, have this odd notion that they are untouchable, immortal, invincible ... and I don’t think that it has sunk in yet that they are none of these things. Do you understand what I mean, Miss Colville?” asked Krohn, looking into her troubled eyes with a steady and penetrating gaze.

“I think so, professor,” she answered.

“You think I am harsh and unfair too, no doubt,” he said with a bitter smile, “and you might be correct, Miss Colville. And perhaps I am foolish as well. I could have prepared these tinctures myself, forced the students in my own house to drink them daily until the vampire is caught, and to hell with the rest of you.”

“Why didn’t you?” asked Sophia.

He laughed softly and said, “Because I am foolish enough to be concerned with the whole lot of you, even the stupid Gryffindors and silly Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws who can’t even seem to whisper properly. This concern is a sure sign that I have been here at this school for too long.”

“When they’re older, they will appreciate ...” Sophia began.

“Bah!” said Krohn with a dismissive gesture. “I care not.”

“Of course, sir,” she said quietly, “but some of us are appreciative of what you’re trying to do.” Sophia didn’t say that she was the only one who hadn’t particularly minded drinking the extremely nasty garlic potion.

“Then show your appreciation by staying alive. Everything else is immaterial and meaningless,” he told her. “And tell your friends to do the same, including young Dumbledore. God knows his father won’t be giving him that advice. Albus is probably coaching him to be a vampire hunter,” snorted Krohn.

“I hardly think that Professor Dumbledore would knowingly endanger ...” Sophia began in a shocked tone of voice.

“You are a Ravenclaw, Miss Colville. Take a lesson from my esteemed colleague Professor Knowles and then decide what a Gryffindor would or would not do,” he said in a very firm tone of voice. But in his eyes there was a certain sadness and muted anger.

Sophia faltered slightly and said, “Then I suppose it will be up to Martin’s friends to look out for him.”

“So long as you don’t risk your own life in the process that is a good plan,” said the professor, sweeping his hair away from his face.

“Spoken like a true Slytherin,” she said before she could stop herself. She blushed slightly at her own impertinence and waited for a backlash that never came.

“I thank you,” said Krohn with pursed lips and a slight nod, “but I am a snake from a different den. If my current station suits me, then that is neither here nor there.”

Sophia narrowed her eyes before remembering that he had not been educated at Hogwarts. Sometimes, however, he fit the Slytherin mold too well.

“As you say, sir,” she replied in measured tones.

“I trust you have said all that you wish to say, Miss Colville.”

“I believe so,” she nodded.

“Then take care and good day to you,” he said, taking a pile of parchments from the corner of his desk and giving them his full attention.

Sophia departed without another word.

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