Sympathy for the Slytherin

Sympathy for the Slytherin

Chapter 6: The Gryff Six

Remembrall: Draco and Harry can shoot highly powered bolts of light out of their respective magical scars. (Draco’s scars are on his right hand from when he grabbed Lucius’ sword/wand just before he killed him.) The Frozen Flame is a muggle-killing plague. Hermione has prophetic dreams. Harry loves Ginny. Draco loves Hermione. And Ron is lonely (except for the voices in his head).

Chapter 6: The Gryff Six

Four very dazed Gryffindors turned in their boars at the paddocks and waited outside Hagrid’s door while the groundskeeper talked quickly to Dumbledore on the fire. They were all silent. So many odd shocks in one day had them speechless. Harry and Draco, in particular, were quiet but wide eyed and walking much faster then everyone else, panting and looking a little... high. Outside Hagrid’s door, Draco was pacing, walking forward to look at the forest then just as soon turning around and peaking into Hagrid’s window and back again. Harry meanwhile was absent mindedly rubbing his wand between his hands, as if gearing up for a fight. Hermione and Ron just watched them, exchanging looks of interest. Finally Hagrid came out, smiling as if everything was perfectly normal.

“Right,” he said. “Thank you for your good work tonight, the boars really seemed to take to you. Yeh can turn your truffles in at the kitchens and Dumbledore’d like yeh to collect Ginny Weasley and meet em’ in MacGonagall’s classroom.”

Ron was confused. “What’s my sister got to do with this?”

“I don’t rightly know,” Hagrid said with a shrug of his massive shoulders. “But I wouldn’t dawdle. See yeh in class on Monday!”

The Gryffindors were left confused as Hagrid went back inside his hut, mumbling to himself about Erumpets and shut the door.

Hermione took a deep breath, still holding the basket full of truffles and spun on her heel. The boys followed her and no one spoke all the way to the kitchens, each lost in thought, excepting Ron who was lost in the thoughts of four introspective Australians. Halfway between the kitchens and Gryffindor Tower, Hermione broke the silence.

“Did you notice anything strange back in the forest?” she said earnestly.

The boys stopped short in the hall, jaws on the floor at Hermione’s question. They looked at her as if she’d just called the dark lord a peachy kid and a keen dancer.

Ron squinted, as if unsure it was really Hermione in front of him. “Are you joking?”

Hermione huffed and turned around to face the three boys, suddenly very much united in disbelief at her train of thought. “I meant,” she said, “aside from Harry and Draco shooting beams of light from their scars with enough force to take down twenty men.”

“Right,” Ron said nodding,”aside from that.”

Hermione threw her arms in the air. “The Erumpet!” she shouted. “Nothing about an Erumpet in the Forbidden Forest strikes any of you as odd?”

“It was distracting enough that the Erumpet was about to strike us period,” Harry quipped.

“Africa!” Hermione exploded. “Erumpets are from Africa! Don’t you guys ever pay attention in Hagrid’s classes?!”

“Usually I’m too busy gushing blood,” Draco said happily.

“Look,” Hermione said, as if explaining the big people potty to a child, “Erumpets are native to Africa. It’s like the cocoanut. It’s got no business being in some dark forest in England, even at Hogwarts. An Erumpet should be wandering the savannah. How did it get here?”

Draco was getting impatient. “I think that’s obvious enough,” he said. “Your Hagrid probably had one as a pet, got bored with it and foolishly let it free in the Forbidden Forest.”

Hermione liked Draco a lot, but she was getting a little peeved at his belittlement of Hagrid. Apparently, it was something that dealing with dark forces had not flushed out of him.

“First, stop talking about him like that,” Hermione warned. “And second, Hagrid would not be that foolish.”

“Why? Because he’s so very concerned for our safety?” Draco snapped, rather upset and very wound up over what had transpired in the forest.

“Actually, no,” Hermione replied. “Because he’s so concerned for the safety of magical creatures. And an Erumpet would certainly not thrive in that sort of climate and would pose an immense danger to the other creatures that live there, like Centaurs.”

Draco seemed to catch on to something and his eyes lit up with realization. He stepped closer to Hermione. “Are you telling me...” he started to say, suddenly whipping his head around to face Harry and Ron. “That this girl talks like a tenured professor even when she’s not tutoring or in class?”

Harry and Ron seemed to be attempting not to laugh and Hermione sighed and rubbed her temples. They had found it, she realized. Something that would start to bring together the former Slytherin and his former enemies; annoyance at her determinedly academic manner. It was enough to cause to Draco to momentarily forget that he was still mad at Ron and Harry for sneaking into his pensieve.

Hermione clenched her jaw and stared down Draco. “You didn’t seem to mind our tutoring sessions before,” she pointed out. “I’m just saying it deserves some looking into.”

“Hermione!” Ron shouted. “We’ve got a list of about fifty things that deserve some looking into! Escapee zoo animals and tropical muggle fruits are not priorities!”

Harry, starting to feel himself winding down from the Erumpent incident, suddenly wanted nothing more to see his girlfriend and walked past Hermione toward the Tower.

“Let’s just get Ginny,” he mumbled, though still amused. “Dumbledore is waiting.”

Hermione turned around and the four strode through the corridors, trying to ignore Peeves who was imitating Draco’s drunken version of “Unchained Melody” while popping in and out of the hall paintings. Hermione glared at the portrait of a distracted Pink Lady who was still indignantly smoothing down her dress, having fought off the impertinent ghost’s advances.

The Pink Lady eyed Hermione grumpily. “Well?” she shrilled.

Hermione smirked and said, “Hello, nasty.”

The Pink Lady scowled and reluctantly opened the door. “I’m not sure I like that password, you know.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and the four harried truffle pickers traipsed into the common room.

**********************************************************

Ginny Weasley held up a vile of something blue and foamy to the light of the common room fire and squinted.

“More Lirby root,” she said to herself. “A shade more Lirby.”

Things had clicked for Ginny near the end of her fourth year when Snape had assigned a particularly viscous assignment that had her pouring over massive tomes in the library, some from the restricted section, to discover the origins of particularly powerful potions. Already the head student in Snape’s fourth year class, reading over the processes of creating a potion through the personal diaries of infamous wizards and witches had unlocked an entire world for Ginny. Suddenly she understood potions in ways the students around her did not. What she did not know was that Snape had been eyeing her progress and based upon a hunch, created the assignment specifically for her, though he dealt it to the other seventeen long suffering students in her class as well.

His hunch had turned out to be well founded. Ginny, though she wasn’t quite aware of it yet, was a prodigy in the arena of potions and herbology where it applied. And Snape, though he didn’t show it, was completely blown away by her brilliance. Thus, Ginny would be moving up to sixth year potions with her friends and was often to be found down in Snape’s dungeons given free reign to experiment. Ginny was the student Snape had waited for for years, that made not being allowed to teach DADA worth it (to some extent) and even surpassed his long standing tradition of anti-Gryffindor/pro-Sytherin sentiment. But Ginny wasn’t in it for glory or achievement, she simply loved devising small improvements for old potions, coming up with new uses for forgotten ingredients and generally solving small problems with this interesting form of magic. She had even managed to devise her own inventions.

Ginny’s only complication was staying on top of her other classes while remaining so wrapped up in potions. At the moment she was working on her most complex project yet. All of it for fun, of course. It was a three part potion and she was working on improving the result and perhaps simplifying the process. She couldn’t very well brew such an important potion in the middle of the common room, but having completed her other homework and awaiting her boyfriend from detention, she was inspecting her completed third step and taking notes and devising new ideas while studying the references of the potion’s inventor.

“A shade more Lirby...”

Ginny expected to kiss Harry hello when he returned and apologize for being mysteriously absent for the entire day. She certainly did not expect them all to arrive looking so... jumpy. And even less did she expect them to tell her that Dumbledore wanted her in on some kind of conference. And yet there they were.

When the entered the common room, Ginny looked up grinning and said,”So how was deten-” she broke off when she saw their faces. “...tion.”

“Dumbledore wants to meet with us,” Harry declared. “Right now. And he wants you there too.”

Ginny stood up, frowning and smoothing down her robes. “Me? Why? Does this have something to do with your scar itching?”

“Ooooh yeah,” Ron crowed.

Harry spent the walk to McGonagall’s classroom explaining the strange incident in the forest to Ginny. Ginny listened and stared ahead and couldn’t help noticing that Draco and Hermione were walking close together ahead of them and that Draco was whispering very close to her ear and shooting her very particular smirks that made Hermione blush. Behind them, Ron trudged and grumbled to himself.

Ginny was confused. “Wait a minute,” she said, standing still in the middle of the hallway. “Draco doesn’t have any magical scars... Does he?”

Harry mentally kicked himself, forgetting that Ginny didn’t know about Draco’s hand or what had happened on Grier’s Mountain. Meanwhile, Draco set his jaw. Everyone knew now. Well, everyone except this Weasley girl and if he did bring it out into the open he could at least tell off Potter and Weasley which would feel very good. Draco stopped short and turned to face Ginny, holding up his right hand.

“Hey!” Ron yelped. “Careful with that thing!”

Draco ignored Ron and glared at Ginny. “Yes, he does,” he answered for her.

“Lord, where did those come from? Is that why you went missing?” Ginny asked.

“Why don’t you tell her, Potter?” Draco demanded. “Or you Weasley? Bloody hell, why don’t you take her down into my pensieve too. Take the rest of Gryffindor. It’s the hottest spot in town.”

Harry grit his teeth and glared at Hermione as Ron did the same. Hermione shrugged and looked away.

“Look,” Harry said, “we had too. You want to hex me for it?” Harry put up his hands away from his wand and stood expectant. “I won’t hex you back. Go ahead.”

Draco’s eyes lit up at the thought and he drew his wand. He started to say something and then frowned like a child.

“It’s not nearly as fun if you let me,” he said petulantly.

Harry and Ron exchanged looks of relieved surprise and walked ahead of Draco with Ginny, a bit flummoxed.

“Fine,” Ron said. “Let’s just get there already. Dumbledore’s expecting us.”

“Tarantallegras dubio!”

Draco smirked his very best smirk as Ron and Harry swiveled around with arms crossed, faces deadpan but annoyed, and legs very enthusiastically dancing a wild jig that seemed to defy all laws of bone structure.

Draco shrugged. “I lied. It’s quite fun actually.”

Ginny couldn’t help but laugh at the activities of Harry and Ron’s legs but as they would soon be on the late side of Dumbledore’s meeting, Hermione drew her wand.

“Finite incantatem,” she said sighing. “Draco, really.”

Draco looked affronted. “He asked me too!”

Harry and Ron stomped on the ground to get the feeling back in the legs and grumbled to themselves. Draco and Hermione walked ahead and Harry came last, pulling Ginny aside to attempt to tell her in hushed whispers, what had happened to Draco as far as he knew it. Hermione couldn’t help but be somewhat amused by Draco’s antics. So this, she thought, was apparently the real Draco. It was going to be interesting...

*********************************************************************

They walked into McGonagall’s classroom to find five comfy looking red velvet chairs waiting for them in place of desks which faced a table and one larger blue chair in which sat Dumbledore, holding a mug in both hands.

“Ah! And here we are,” Dumbledore said happily. He gestured to five mugs which sat on the table, smelling delightfully of hot chocolate and a plate of tasty looking biscuits. “You all must be very tired from your work in the forest and your study respectively. Please enjoy some refreshment.”

The Gryffindors haplessly took their seats and reached immediately for the hot chocolate. For his part, Draco had become used to Dumbledore’s singular manner as a headmaster, how he acted the all knowing, patronizing, eccentric but wise wizard while allowing his favorite students to fall into the most life endangering trouble. Draco had realized after one of Dumbledore’s visits to the mansion, that Dumbledore really did have some sense of foresight, or maybe it was just a strong feeling that he had about certain students and situations.

“Now,” said Dumbledore, when they had all gotten comfortable with their hot chocolate and Ron was on his third biscuit, “I have been meaning to sit down with you all as I think there are some concerns you would like to share with me. And after what has transpired during your detention in the forest, this seems to be the perfect time.”

“Professor,” Harry spoke up, “are you saying you know what the purple light coming out of us was?”

“Yes,” Dumbledore said, stroking his long beard and eyeing Draco with a question, “at least I have an idea...”

Draco glared at Harry and growled, “They all know now. So you can speak freely.”

“Very well,” Dumbledore said. “But first, why don’t you two explain in your own words what happened in the forest. Harry, would you like to start?”

Draco didn’t look talkative so Harry squirmed a bit and started to speak. “Well, er... We were all about to go back to the paddocks and we heard a sort of thundering and then this Erumpet came charging toward us and Hagrid told us to get out of the way and I was just about to run but then... er...” Harry blushed and frowned into his hot chocolate.

“But then?” Dumbledore prodded.

“I felt this surge of energy, in my blood like, “ Harry said. “It was all coming toward my forehead. And I just... knew what to do somehow. I can’t explain it. So I looked straight at the Erumpet and it felt sort of like I’d eaten a whole bag of Sugar Bats on an empty stomach. Then suddenly there was this purple light coming out of my forehead and out of Malfoy’s hand and then they joined into one big beam of light and blew the Erumpet into a tree.”

Dumbledore looked to Draco and asked, “Do you concur with that description?”

“Yeah,” Draco admitted. “It did feel like a big rush and then I just felt myself raising my hand up. It was like...” Draco grasped for words.

“Instinct,” he and Harry said at the same time. They looked at each other funny and turned back to Dumbledore who took another sip of hot chocolate and began to speak slowly.

“It is very intriguing,” he said. “Not unheard of but certainly extraordinary. I believe, because of the similarity in your injuries, both of which came out of surviving an attempted Avada Kedavra curse, you now contain certain magical temperaments which are... reacting to each other. It would take ages to completely explain the basis for it, but it would all have to do with the situation surrounding each curse, the wands used, your personalities, even family history. It is possible, Harry, that your scar always contained this power and only now had discovered the key to unlock it.”

Draco looked more taken aback then Harry at that statement.

“So,” said Ron, trying to catch on, “you’re saying that they could do what they did to the Erumpet again?”

“Certainly,” said Dumbledore. “This is a new magical sense that Harry and Draco have acquired. And with training, they can learn to utilize and control it. But, of course, it’s a dependent form of magic.”

“Dependent?” Draco piped up. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” said Dumbledore, “that it relies on its other, that you cannot operate it apart.”

“What,” Harry blurted, “you mean I have this new magical power but I can only use it when I’m around Malfoy?”

“Exactly,” Dumbledore said, seemingly delighted.

“Well, obviously,” Draco said haughtily, even though he’d just begun to understand it himself. “And don’t think I’m too crazy about it either, Potter.”

“I have been told your scar has been itching lately, Harry. Is this true?” Dumbledore asked.

Harry looked a bit sheepish. “Yes, very itchy. Though Ginny made me some numbing solution to ease it,” he said, beaming at his girlfriend, who blushed. “And then the other night it was itching particularly and it was glowing according to Hermione.”

“Glowing!” Dumbledore said in surprise. “Very interesting. And Draco?”

Draco nodded. “My hand was itchy but I was taking pain potion because the scars were sore.”

“You were seeking each other out,” Dumbledore explained. “And the closer you got to each other, I expect the itchier you became. Your powers sought release and now that they have discovered it, I think the itching will subside.”

“Is this like wandless magic?” Harry asked hopefully. “Can we perform spells with it?”

Dumbledore tilted his head and smiled. “Usually, from what I have read that is, such powers are more generalized. But why don’t we attempt some experiments, hmm?”

A few minutes later, they had shoved the chairs and tables to one end of the room except for one chair which sat in the middle. Ron, Ginny and Hermione stood among the crowded furniture and watched Harry and Draco expectantly who seemed awkward and uncertain.

“Concentrate,” Dumbledore told them. “Relax and try to focus on that rush of feeling you both spoke of, then target it toward the chair.”

They nodded and faced the other end of the room, Draco raising his hand and aiming it at the chair. They were silent as Harry stared at the chair and Draco’s fingers were spread wide with what looked like effort. For two minutes they just stood there and were about to give up until Draco’s eyes lit up and his hand shook a little and Harry said, “Oh!” A split second later the bolts of light shot forward straight at the chair and smashed it against the wall where it split into several pieces.

“Brilliant!” Harry cried.

“Bloody excellent!” Draco agreed.

Ron just looked awed. “Wow...”

It was that euphoria again, Hermione noticed. Draco and Harry were wide eyed and flushed and she suspected it was some sort of side effect.

“Can we do it again?!” Harry pleaded.

“Of course,” Dumbledore said, chuckling a little and casting a reparo on the chair.

“Only, this time try to control the sensation. Look for other possibilities, if you get my meaning.”

Harry and Draco aimed for the chair again and this time Harry felt like he did sense something else underneath the mysterious magical energy. It was almost as if there was another stream of it running along that he hadn’t gotten a handle on yet. Harry grasped for it with the strange new instinct inside him and realized with amazement that he could somehow feel Draco doing the same. The lights shot out and hit the chair but instead of blasting it backward the bolts gave a great yank and the chair came shooting towards them.

“Duck!” Hermione cried.

Harry and Draco ducked as the chair shot straight towards their heads. As they turned away and the two boys lost their concentration, the purple light disappeared, releasing the chair from its pull quite suddenly and causing it to fall at their feet with a clatter.

“Oi!” Ron yipped. “That would’ve knocked you out!”

“How’d you do that?” Draco demanded of Harry, breathing hard.

Harry ogled Draco. “How’d you do that?”

“Ah!” Dumbledore said happily. “Apparently, this creates a push and pulling force.”

“But how did he know I was trying to pull,” Harry asked. “I barely knew that’s what I was doing.”

“Couldn’t you tell, Potter?” Draco said excitedly and again euphoric. “I could. Like in the back of my head, I knew you were doing the same thing somehow and when to go.”

“I did,” Harry confessed. “It’s just so strange.”

“You must understand that you’re connected now,” Dumbledore said. “You share the same instinct, as Draco said. That is why it’s in perfect synchronicity.”

“I’m connected to Potter,” Draco mumbled, though rather amused. “Perfect.”

Next they tried to control the force and simply push the chair gently backward which had the chair jerking forcefully back, stopping and then sliding against the wall. They attempted to cast a spell on the chair and turn it green which did not work and Dumbledore explained that the power was probably a simple force that could push and pull and perhaps even blow things up with its sheer energy.

“Can we try to blow something up then?” Draco asked hopefully.

“I think that would be a better experiment out of doors,” Dumbledore said wisely. “And from a great distance.”

“What happens if they aim at each other?” Hermione asked.

“What happens?!” Harry said incredulously. “We’d kill each other!”

“I do not think this is the sort of power that would allow you to destroy yourselves,” Dumbledore argued.

“Let’s give it a shot,” Draco said easily and only because Harry didn’t seem to want to.

Harry, not wanting to be bested, grudgingly agreed and the others stayed out of the way as they faced each other.

“Wait,” said Draco, “let me stand apart from the window. I don’t want you blasting me out of it.”

“Yes,” Hermione agreed. “You’ve got quite enough experience with that.”

They were at the other end of the room, standing a few feet apart, the other door to McGonagall’s classroom behind Harry and a wall behind Draco.

Ginny seemed anxious. “I don’t know if this is such a good idea after what Harry told me happened to that Erumpet.”

“It’s okay, Ginny,” Harry said easily. “We’ll be fine.”

Harry and Draco faced each other, Draco with his hand raised up chest level again. A moment later the bolts shot out and met in the middle in a spectacular burst of purple light which slammed Draco against the wall and threw Harry right out the door against the opposite wall in the hallway.

“Merlin!” Hermione cried, running to Draco as Ginny ran to Harry.

“Oof,” Draco wheezed, sitting up slowly where he was slumped on the floor. “I’m fine. Where’d Potter end up?” Hermione helped Draco to his feet and Ron just crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, bemused.

A few moments later Harry stumbled back into the classroom, closely followed by Ginny. “Bloody...” he murmured. “Nearly did kill me. Scared the death out of Peeves though.”

“Alright,” said Dumbledore, “perhaps we should be a bit careful with that one. I think we should put off further experimentation until tomorrow, yes?”

Harry and Draco nodded reluctantly, still wired up and the chairs were moved back to their original positions. They refilled their hot chocolate and Dumbledore spoke again.

“We have much more to discuss and we will come back to this later. But Draco, I think, has been experiencing another oddity?”

Draco sighed, feeling like he was in the middle of some sort of group therapy session. “Well, yes, “ he said. “But how did you find out? I haven’t told anyone.”

Hermione was looking at him questioningly and Draco looked away, feeling sheepish.

“Professor Snape came across it,’” Dumbledore answered. “The other day, I believe you attempted to persuade him into taking back a homework assignment? Why don’t you explain to me what it is you’ve experienced.”

Draco swallowed. “When I want someone to do something very badly, I taste this sugar in my mouth, like candy. And somehow it makes people change their minds. I just discovered it when I got back.”

“Hagrid!” Ron exclaimed. “That’s what you did to Hagrid.”

Draco glowered and nodded. He would’ve liked to have kept this to himself. It would’ve been useful in getting Weasley and Potter to do things for him. Still could be, he thought idly.

“It didn’t work with Snape though,” he said. “It didn’t work on Hermione either. I tried it the other day.”

Hermione put aside her indignance that Draco had attempted to play her like a flute and instead asked, “But what is it, Professor? I’ve never heard of anything like that.”

“Draco is a persuader,” Dumbledore explained. “Like the other special gifts that you, Miss Granger and you, Mr. Weasley have received, it is a gift that did not show up for quite a time, until late adolescence.”

Hermione and Ron looked up in surprise.

“Omnipotent!” Ron whispered to Hermione.

Dumbledore had a far off look in his eyes. “Magic is a funny thing,” he said. “Reacts differently in every witch and wizard. For example, Harry’s intriguing gift of Parseltongue was something he always had, whether he knew it or not. While these other gifts lay dormant, just waiting to be let out. Strange how they should all make themselves known at once like this. It’ s almost like... well...”

“Fate?” Draco said softly, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Perhaps,” Dumbledore said with a smile. “But getting back to your singular talent, Mr.Malfoy. Persuaders are exceedingly rare. The most famous, I believe, was Nickolas Yornbyrne, a Swedish wizard who died over thirty years ago.”

“Yornbyrne’s Odd Birds!” Hermione said automatically, and just as quickly flushing.

“Very good, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore said. “Yes, Yornbyrne’s specialty was in magical creatures, birds specifically. But he also wrote a couple of books about the gift of persuasion which you should read, Mr. Malfoy.”

“But why didn’t it work with Snape?” Draco wanted to know. “It worked with Filch,” he admitted. “And Hagrid and the bar-... er, someone else.”

Dumbledore was amused. “A highly trained wizard such as Snape would catch on, Draco. And Snape has come across persuaders before. There are a couple in the Ministry. No Death Eaters that we know of, thank Merlin,” Dumbledore added. “But Snape could tell by the tone of your voice and the look in your eye that you were a persuader. He faltered for a moment. You almost got away with it.”

“Hold on,” Ron said, “you mean Malfoy can make people do what they don’t want to do? Can change people’s minds just like that?”

“Yes,” Dumbledore said casually. “For a time and with a few limitations.”

Ron snorted. “Brilliant.”

“But why do I taste sugar?” Draco asked.

“Ah, yes,” Dumbledore said, “it’s common among persuaders. Just a way to let you know that the magic is present. If you don’t taste that sweet flavor, it’s not going to work.”

“A sweet talking dragon...” Hermione murmured to herself in wonder.

“Can I make the sugary taste come then? Will it work?” he asked.

“Yes,” Dumbledore said. “With training. You’ve done it already and not known it. You must focus on the question and the person you’re asking. Intent is also a factor.”

Draco sat silently for a moment and then faced Hermione. “Hermione,” he said firmly, “fetch me a glass of water.”

“Fetch your own water, skrewt!” she yipped immediately.

Draco looked at Dumbledore wryly and gestured toward her. “It never works with her. I could taste the sugar and everything.”

“No,” Dumbledore chortled. “And that is interesting in itself. As I said, intent is a factor. It only works if you really want it to work. You do not want to manipulate Hermione. Therefore you’re unable to.”

Hermione smiled and Draco went a bit pink, realizing it was true, sat back in his chair and just as soon sat back up and stared at Ron. “Hey, Weasley,” he said. “Fetch me a glass of water.”

Ron shrugged, “Alright.” He stood up and started to leave as Draco and others began to laugh.

Dumbledore sighed and stood up, grabbing Ron by the robes. “Not so fast, Mr. Weasley,” he said, sitting him back down.

Ron sat down reluctantly and was quiet as the others were still laughing. A moment later he went a bit googly eyed before glaring at Draco. “I’ll get you for that one, Malfoy!”

Draco was nonplussed. “Mmm,” he mused. “Doesn’t seem to last very long.”

“It’s a touchy thing,” Dumbledore said. “You need to read Yornbyrne’s books. Sometimes it depends on how well you know the person you’re persuading or if they’re interrupted as I interrupted Mr.Weasley... And with training, of course, the talent will strengthen.”

“Do we want it to?” Ron asked rhetorically.

“I do assume, Mr.Malfoy, that you will use your gift for good and not evil?” Dumbledore inquired.

Draco looked sneaky. “I suppose.”

Hermione nudged him and he smirked, “Yes, yes,” he said. “I’m a Gryffindor, I’m an angel. Moving on.”

“Right,” Dumbledore said. “Now to Hermione. You’ve been having some interesting dreams, I think?”

Hermione blushed and nodded.

“They’re prophetic,” Harry said proudly. “She knew about Draco becoming a Gryffindor.”

Draco looked surprised. “You did?”

“I had a dream about a green dragon,” she said. “It was sitting in the Gryffindor common room. And since Draco means dragon and green is a Slytherin color... well, once Dumbledore announced you were coming to our tower, it was a little too much to have been a coincidence.” She looked at Dumbledore and said, “I also knew he was in trouble the other night and where he was. It- it worked out alright though.”

“I see,” Dumbledore said, deliberately not prodding her for more information on that topic. “Have you ever had these sort of dreams before? Think hard.”

Hermione sighed and sat back. “Not really,” she said. “I had a recurring dream in the summer. But it wasn’t very interesting.”

Dumbledore looked interested though so Hermione described it.

“I dreamt of a bunch of griffins. Six, I think. They weren’t doing anything. Just sitting in the middle of a desert. But since I’m a Gryffindor, I didn’t think anything of it. I thought it was just my subconscious fooling around. I had that dream... Well, six times I think.”

“Most interesting,” Dumbledore mumbled.

“Hermione, you were dreaming about us!” Ron said. “We’re all Gryffindors now.”

“But there's only five of us, genius,” Draco snipped. “Counting your sister.”

“Yes,” Dumbledore seemed to say to himself. “Well... that remains to be seen.”

“You won’t tell Professor Trelawney, will you?” Hermione pleaded.

Dumbledore chuckled. “I’m sure she’ll find out eventually, Miss Granger. And you will have to be taught how to read and decipher your dreams. Even to dream lucidly, that is control your dreams and perhaps gather information. Trelawney... hmm, well... she will not be overseeing your study in that arena. We’ll be bringing in a specialist.”

Hermione seemed greatly relieved on that point.

“And Mr.Weasley, “ Dumbledore said, with a mischievous smile. “Hearing voices in your head, are you?”

Ron smiled and shrugged. “Well, yeah,” he said. “At the moment they’re Australian. There’s a loud bloke named Steve in there who seems very excited about a crocodile...”

“As I’m sure you’ve already presumed,” Dumbledore said. “You, Mr. Weasley, are a telepath. It’s not a trick or a hex of any kind. Why don’t you tell me when it started and how it’s progressed?”

Ron took a bit of biscuit, chewed and swallowed and told his story. “It started a few days ago,” he said. “First I could only hear my friends, some little thought from Harry or Hermione. It was very confusing, because I thought they were talking to me at first. And then suddenly the floodgates opened and I could hear hundreds of thoughts. Like all of Hogwarts was yelling in my head. It went back and forth. I learned to focus on specific people and then I could only hear people I was close to. But the next day it was the opposite and I heard people in other countries, loud and soft. I’m getting better at tuning it out, I think. It doesn’t keep me awake at least.”

Malfoy looked at him sharply. “Have you been reading my mind, Weasley?”

“Can we talk about this later, Malfoy?” Ron hissed.

“Later,” Dumbledore said firmly. “By all means. Now obviously, you will also need special training. More then the others, I expect. And from what you’ve told me, I see that you are a particularly powerful telepath.”

Ron looked shocked and Ginny and Hermione beamed in pride. Ron, it seemed, had finally been singled out. So much for being the goofy, redheaded side kick, Hermione thought.

“Yes,” Dumbledore said, in some amazement. “Quite extraordinary. Not only that all of you are so distinctly gifted but to be brought together in such a...” Dumbledore shook his head. “Quite extraordinary.”

Ginny, who had been sitting patiently in her chair, sipping hot chocolate and watching Dumbledore talk about the astounding super powers of her best friends... and Malfoy, finally managed to speak up.

“Um, excuse me,” she said quietly. “Professor? I don’t quiet understand why I’m here.”

Dumbledore looked confused. “Miss Weasley?”

“It’s just...” Ginny was the one blushing now. “It’s just, I don’t have one of these special new magical powers so I don’t know why you asked me here exactly.”

“Miss Weasley!” Dumbledore said again. “Do you think that your spectacular talent with potions is not a gift?”

Ginny stuttered, “Well... I...”

“Do you not know that our Professor Snape, who has never, I must admit, been particularly impressed with even his best students, gushes about our Miss Weasley to the rest of the staff?”

Harry and Ron’s eyebrow raised to the ceiling and Dumbledore continued, “Your adeptness at potions is unparalleled by any student your age in the history of Hogwarts!”

Ginny was so red she was blending into her chair, “Oh,” she said simply.

“It is my understanding that you have already produced a couple of your own inventions? Your father told me about it when I ran into him in Diagon Alley last week.”

Hermione looked gleeful. “Really, Ginny?”

Ginny rolled her eyes. The only drawback to excelling at something was her parent’s reaction. Arthur and Molly were positively bursting with pride and told anyone with a pulse about their genius daughter even in front of Ginny even in public.

“Fly potion from what I understand?” Dumbledore said.

“I call it Fly because it allows you to walk up walls,” Ginny explained.

“Wicked!” Ron exclaimed.

“Precisely,” Dumbledore said with typical twinkle. “I also invited you here, Ginny, simply because I assumed you to be a close friend of the other people here and I believed that what concerned them also concerned you. Is that not true?”

Ginny smiled and nodded as Harry squeezed her hand lovingly.

“Now,” Dumbledore said, “as for your training...”

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