A Broken Branch

The young man opened the door silently, as if trying to sneak into the room, although he knew he was expected. His long, slender fingers curled over the hilt of his wand, tucked securely into a hidden pocket in his robes. The man who had requested his presence, a professor, was sitting at his desk, writing away at a letter, and he gave no indication that he had noticed the young man.

The room was a cheerful clutter of various magical items, strewn about with apparent carelessness to the unknowing eye. But the young man knew better. He knew that every item in the office had a purpose, and that its owner placed each where it was with precise care. His lip curled as he stared about at the room. How he hated it, just as much as he hated its occupant. In a mere matter of hours, he would be freed from ever having to enter it again.

He stood in front of the professor's desk, and waited silently. Another student may have coughed, or announced his presence with a forced greeting, but the young man was not just another student. He knew his presence was a force, louder than a greeting and more potent than a cough. The professor continued to ignore him, completely focused on his letter. His long beard was draped across the tabletop, threatening to smudge the carefully drawn letters.

Just as the young man felt his carefully controlled anger begin to simmer, the professor set down his quill and looked up with eyes a piercing shade of blue.

"Sit," he finally said, folding his letter and tucking it into an envelope as if it were the most delicate thing in the world. The young man curled his lip, and stood his ground defiantly.

"I prefer to stand - Professor." The last word he spat as if it were offensive to his ears. If the professor noticed, his serene expression gave no indication of it.

"As you wish," was his answer.

"You wished to see me?"

"Indeed I did."

The young man controlled the scowl that was threatening to crack his perfectly sculpted mask of indifference. "And I am here," he said quickly, after he had regained mastery of himself.

The professor's eyes were twinkling now, and more than anything the young man longed to tear them out with his fingernails.

"You graduate tomorrow."

"Your grasp of the obvious is commendable."

The professor's serene smile widened and he gestured with his hand once more. "Please sit. I assure you, this meeting will pass quickly if you do."

The young man clenched his jaw and lowered himself into the seat. "For once," he said, "we share a common goal."

"I hope this is an occurrence that occurs more frequently in the future."

"Hope is for children and old fools, Dumbledore." The insult was open and direct and no serene smiles could pass it over.

"I am sorry that you believe so," the professor said, but his expression did not change.

The young man raised an eyebrow and gave a smile that was more a sneer. "We both have better things to do with our time than chat."

"Indeed we do, indeed we do," the professor said, meshing his fingers together. "Tell me, what will you do now? I know nothing of your plans for the future. I will write a letter of recommendation to the Ministry if you wish it."

"My plans are my own matters. I am not a boy, to tell you of my intentions, and I will never accept any help from you."

"So be it. It was merely a request, and a simple 'no' would have sufficed."

"If you called me here to discuss my future with me, I need not remind you that this is not fifth year. I completed that two years ago, quite well if your memory does not serve."

"Yes, I remember quite well."

The young man pushed his chair back and made ready to leave, but the professor raised his hand.

"Wait."

"For what? I have no further desire to speak to you, and you cannot make me stay."

The twinkle was gone, and now the eyes glittered with an expression that the young man could not decipher. "Sit down," the professor said again, and the young man found himself reclining back in the chair. One day, old man, I will no longer be under your authority, his mind seethed. One day I will give you the orders, that is, before I destroy you.

"You are a remarkable student. You have earned every lesson you have been taught, to a great degree of success. I have one last lesson to teach you."

The young man's expression lessened in severity somewhat. Although he would rather die than admit it, he and his professor did have one similarity - their love for academics. The professor was a brilliant wizard, and even the young man could wait and swallow his loathing to listen.

The professor reached under his desk and pulled out a branch of some unknown tree. He placed it on his desk, and looked up at the young man.

"I have here a branch."

Although the young man's mind raced with a plethora of rude answers, he kept silent, for the professor's lessons were always important and challenging. "Yes," he simply said.

"You have remarkable potential," the professor said. "And I know that you will leave here with the intention of adding to your powers."

You have no idea, the young man thought with a smirk, but he kept silent.

The professor caught the expression, and he closed his eyes for a moment. "On your journey, your road will fork into two paths. It sounds simple doesn't it? When others will walk their life journey, they will have to choose between roads all the time. You will only have two."

"Then they must be important," the young man said indifferently, although his mind raced, trying to see where the professor was talking the lesson.

"Indeed they are. They will ultimately define the man you will become. I brought you here to assist you. I wish to show you which path holds true power, and which shows merely an illusion of it."

"And a branch will assist?"

"Take it. And you will not need your wand for this lesson."

The young man grasped the branch and looked up as the professor cleared his throat.

"I wish to tell you - you may not understand the meaning of this lesson now, although I daresay it is the most important you will ever learn. When you come to that fork, remember this, and it will come to you." He nodded towards the branch. "Break it."

Scowling slightly, the young man grasped the ends, and easily snapped it in half.

"There. It was easy, wasn't it?"

Still scowling, the young man nodded slowly.

"Now fix it."

"What?"

"Make the branch whole again."

The young man reached for his wand, but the professor stopped him. "No wand."

"Then I cannot fix the branch." The young man placed down the pieces and pushed himself away from the table. "I do not have time for these musings," he sneered. "I must finish packing."

"Then I will help you understand now. Any wizard can break, can destroy. Any child can destroy. Real power...real power belongs the one who can repair the break. That is true power."

The young man smiled slowly. "I understand what you are trying to tell me," he said. "Well done, old man. But let me tell you now. I chose my path a long time ago." He started to leave, but stopped in the doorway, as the professor called his name.

"Wait - Tom. I will always help you when you ask. You are always welcome here."

"I will not need your help. Not with my plans."

"So I will not see you again."

Tom smiled again before leaving the room. "I daresay you will old man. I daresay you will."