A Little Knowledge: Missing Scenes

“Don’t look so sad, Reynard. It isn’t the end of the world, you know,” said Professor Dippet as he finished packing his bags, removing the last few books from the office that belonged to him.

“It’s the end of this school, Armando. I can feel it. If you leave us, then the entire place will go to hell in a matter of weeks. Possibly even days,” said Professor Krohn as he stood looking on with a grim expression.

Armando laughed heartily at that and leaned against his desk. “My dear boy, you could have earned your stripes as a jester. Nothing of that sort is going to happen. I’m leaving the school and its students in capable hands. I don’t just mean Albus’ either. I am trusting you to give him your full cooperation. And I have every confidence in you and the other professors as well.”

Reynard lowered his head for a moment, feeling nearly overwhelmed by those words, both the light-hearted and the serious. He gave a jerking nod to indicate that he would try to do what was expected of him.

“I’ll write you, Reynard, never fear, and tell you all about my retirement. You can write to me and complain about the Gryffindor’s running amok,” said Armando.

“And they will, you know,” said Krohn, lifting his eyes from the floor. “I will write you every chance I get. Nothing will happen here without you knowing about it ... and beforehand when I can manage it.”

Armando beamed at him and said, “There’s a good fellow. I know you will do your best. Be sure to include the results of the house Quidditch matches if you don’t mind.”

“I’ll do that,” Reynard assured him.

“Perhaps I’ll return for a game in the spring. Of course, my garden has seen some years of neglect. I don’t know how I’ll manage it. Perhaps in the summer ...”

“... I can come and help you?” questioned the younger professor with the vaguest hint of a smile.

“I would be delighted, Reynard,” said the headmaster warmly.

“I will miss having you here, Armando. You were the first person who greeted me when I accepted this job and came to this country. I dare say I wouldn’t have it nor much of anything else without you. It won’t seem right, being here with you gone,” said Reynard in a flurry of words.

“You didn’t think I would stay here forever, did you?” asked Dippet, leaving his desk and walking over to Reynard.

“I had hoped,” he replied with a slightly wry expression.

“My dear boy,” murmured Armando, holding his arms out to Reynard, “I’m afraid that just couldn’t be, unfavorable situation or no. We all have our time in the sun. This was mine. I need shade now and lots of it.” Reynard embraced his friend and mentor tightly, closing his eyes to stop the tears. “You’ll get your time soon enough. Mark my words,” he added, patting tall Reynard on the back as he tried to keep the tears from his eyes too.

“I would rather you ...”

“Hush, Reynard, just let it go. There’s nothing for it now,” Armando told him as he pulled away and held Reynard by the arms. There was a note a somber finality in his voice as he spoke and not one bit of regret.

“All right,” Reynard nodded, looking down at the older man and nearly wanting to embrace him again. He felt just as he had as a child of four or five when his father, a better man in those nearly forgotten days, had left to teach at Durmstrang. But Armando would not be coming back for the holidays.

“I had better be going before Albus comes to fetch me. I wish you well, Professor Krohn,” he said with a smile.

“Good-bye, professor,” said Reynard, who seldom, if ever, had called Dippet by that title.

Armando smiled and said, “Remember to write and write often, and contact me by fire if you wish.” Then he picked up his two bags and left the office.

Reynard lingered for sometime before taking the floo back to the dungeons.

---