The Birds and the Bees

***

…Hermione looked up, and there she met the eyes of a very shocked looking Professor McGonagall. Both sets of eyes moved to Hermione’s wand, lying unused on the desk.

Oops.

***

Luckily, at that moment the bell sounded and the classroom around her erupted with ripples of movement and noise as everyone rushed to leave. Hermione hurriedly shoved her books into her bag and made to leave the room before McGonagall could say anything to her.

‘Forgot something in my room, see you in potions’ she hissed over her shoulder to Harry and Ron as she sped out the door, avoiding the gaze of the very shell-shocked looking Professor.

She was glancing behind her as she scooted down the hall, when she felt herself run – hard – into something solid.

‘Aaaargh!!’ she shrieked as she started to topple over backwards. A man’s hand reached out to grab her arm and arrest her fall. She steadied herself, then looked up, gulping, into the face of………..Professor Dumbledore.

‘Oh bugg- Um, I mean…I’m sorry Professor,’ gasped Hermione, blushing furiously. How embarrassing. She silently thanked the gods that it hadn’t been Professor Snape, or she would have had detention with Filch before you could say ‘No running in the halls, Miss Granger.’ The headmaster, however, seemed fairly unperturbed.

‘No matter, Miss Granger, I’m stronger than I look,’ he chuckled as she furiously avoided his eye. ‘I was just on my way to find you, as it happens, but it seems that you have saved me the trouble of a search.’

Bugger, bugger and bugger again. Of course he would know. Hermione straightened up; determined to avoid the inevitable questions.

‘Actually sir, I’m supposed to be…’ she started. Dumbledore interrupted her.

‘That’s all right, my dear, I’m sure Professor Snape can spare you for a few minutes. I’ll write you a note.’

‘I…err…thankyou, sir,’ replied Hermione. Dumbledore smiled kindly at her.

‘Now,’ he said, ‘If you would like to accompany me to my office, we can have some tea.’ It wasn’t a request.

He set off down the corridor. Hermione trotted along behind, finding it surprisingly hard to keep up with the old wizard. Soon they were seated in Dumbledore’s office with a house elf busily serving them tea and biccies. Hermione surreptitiously eyed the choc-coated Hobnobs, waiting for an appropriate moment to grab one. Dumbledore smiled at her, looking amused (damn his Leglimency!), and promptly launched into the matter at hand.

‘Miss Granger, are you aware of a phenomenon known commonly as wandless magic?’ he enquired.

‘Yes sir,’ she answered hesitantly. She was unwilling to give too much a way yet; after all, she hadn’t had a chance to properly investigate this new skill of hers. What if it wasn’t even wandless magic, but just a mad delusion? No need to announce herself as having learned something special only to be proven wrong and made to look a fool.

‘I’m sure you are aware, Miss Granger,’ continued Dumbledore, ‘that wandless magic is somewhat uncommon. It is not, however, unheard of. Many experienced witches and wizards find that over time they become able to direct magic without the use of a wand. Yes, it would be unusual but not impossible for a clever young witch like you to find herself able to perform wandless magic.’

Hermione felt herself relax. So there would be no inquisition. Dumbledore need never know about the strange voice that she had been hearing, or the new presence in her head.

Unfortunately for her, though, the old wizard had not finished.

‘But that’s not all…is it Miss Granger?’ said Dumbledore quietly as he surveyed her over the top of his spectacles. Hermione stared intently at her hands, which clenched back into anxious fists in her lap.

‘I don’t know what you mean, sir,’ she mumbled.

Dumbledore made a small tutting noise in his throat, and promptly changed tack.

‘Miss Granger, was that simply wandless magic that you performed in Professor McGonagall’s class?’ he asked seriously.

Hermione looked up slowly, and answered ‘umm, no…well, yes…errr, that is to say…I really don’t know sir.’

Her voice faltered, and she looked up at him with genuine confusion and distress in her eyes. Dumbledore pursed his lips, regarding her silently for a moment, then continued in a slightly lowered voice, as if talking to a frightened child.

‘Hermione – may I call you Hermione? Yes? Good. Hermione, let us be open with each other. I understand that you have stumbled across something unfamiliar. I will attempt to help you understand what you have found. It is, however, a very complex issue that we are dealing with. I think the best place to start would be at the beginning… Hermione, do you know what magic actually IS?’

With this question, her distress dissipated, and was replaced by tingly anticipation. This was what she had been searching for in the library! Even her covert forays into the restricted section had yielded very little in the way of explanation about the magical world, but now here she was with the world’s most powerful (non-evil) wizard poised to explain the whole thing to her! All she had to do was hear what he had to say, claim that the display in Transfiguration had been an accident, grab a biccie and then she was free!

Hermione suppressed a grin, and shook her head at the Headmaster to indicate that, no; she didn’t have a bloody clue what magic actually was. Dumbledore fixed her with an intense gaze and said

‘The thing about magic, Hermione, is that…’

A loud knock at the door interrupted him. Hermione directed a fierce glare towards the doorway. She sincerely hoped that whoever had knocked had a very good reason for interrupting such an important conversation. The door remained oblivious to her venomous stare, and opened in its usual fashion.

There in the doorway, clad in heavy black robes with a very fetching magenta stain down one side and a look so fierce it made her toes curl, stood one of Hermione’s least favourite people in the whole world.

Professor Severus Snape.

Snape acknowledged Hermione only with a glance, before turning to the Headmaster. His usual sneer had grown so immense that it seemed to be in danger of growing right off his face and going off in search of puppies to torture in nasty ways. When he spoke, it was in his usual, silky tones; yet Hermione could detect the restrained fury behind his words. No doubt the stain on his robes was implicated in his worse than usual mood.

‘Headmaster,’ he began, ‘there has been an accident in my class. Longbottom (as he said the name, the sneer became more of a pained grimace) has exploded yet another cauldron, and has slightly injured two of his classmates. Longbottom is fine…(a slight pause indicated that he regretted this state of affairs)…and the other two are with Madam Pomfrey. I am only informing you of this because you requested that I keep you informed of any mishaps, in case you could be of any assistance.’

His tone managed to walk the fine line between politeness, and the suggestion that the idea of Dumbledore being of assistance was totally moronic. The Headmaster appeared to miss this.

‘Thank you Severus,’ replied Dumbledore kindly. ‘I will drop into the infirmary later.’

Professor Snape made as if to leave, but the Headmaster detained him with a question. ‘Severus, I was just about to attempt to explain to Hermione something of the nature of the magical world. I wonder; would you be willing to impart some of your wealth of knowledge by telling us what you believe magic to be and why it exists?’

The Potions Master turned back around, and answered in distinctly frosty tones.

‘With infinite respect Headmaster, those are unnecessary questions, of no concern to any scholar worth his salt.’ He turned to Hermione, and fixed her with a cold stare.

‘Miss Granger, to draw an analogy with which you will be familiar; a Muggle home uses electricity to run various devices, yet most Muggles do not understand the physical composition of electricity nor understand why it does what it does. This does not reduce its effectiveness at all. It is enough to simply accept that it works, and utilise it. The same is true for magic.’

He turned back to Dumbledore, and continued.

‘Debate on the composition and purpose of magic invariably descends into metaphysical speculation. I deal in absolutes, in rules and processes. Questions of meaning are rarely conducive to productivity. Now, I must return to my class before total mayhem ensues. Perhaps you might deign to join us at some stage, Miss Granger.’

Hermione didn’t bother to answer; she was too busy going over his analogy in her head, finding several things wrong with it. She just managed to regain her concentration enough to fix him with a good imitation of his own cold stare as he swept out of the room.

As the door clicked shut, Hermione let out a long breath. Encounters with Professor Snape always left her feeling somewhat…unsettled. Pushing the Potions Master out of her head she turned back to Dumbledore, replacing the cold look with an encouraging smile.

‘Please continue, Professor Dumbledore,’ she said, ‘I’m extremely eager to hear what you have to say’.

‘Certainly, Hermione,’ he answered. ‘Though, I should warn you that much of what I will talk about will be simply the thoughts and conjectures of an old man. You won’t find corroboration in books, or be taught anything like this at Hogwarts. You must employ your own good judgement, and dismiss anything you cannot agree with. I ask only that you keep an open mind.’

Hermione nodded her acquiescence, then added ‘You know, sir, if anyone is experienced enough to afford their opinions a fair hearing; I believe it is you.’

Dumbledore smiled a little smile.

‘If by experienced you mean old, then you may well be right,’ he replied. ‘However, I believe that I have derived most of this particular brand of knowledge from intuition, and that is something I have no monopoly on. Anyone can employ their own intuition - though few do. Although; from your display in Professor McGonagall’s class this morning I might deduce that you have become well acquainted with your own intuition.’

‘Actually sir,’ admitted Hermione, ‘even though I have been thinking a lot about what happened in Transfiguration, I hadn’t really considered that it might have had anything to do with…intuition.’

‘I see.’ said Dumbledore, ‘well, would you be willing to share with me those thoughts that you did have?’

Hermione looked uncertain for a moment, but took a deep breath and said slowly,

‘Well, I was thinking about magic and I came up with the same analogy that Professor Snape used – electricity, electric wires and suchlike. Except I don’t agree with what he said about not investigating something just because it seems to work.’

‘Hmmm, Yes,’ replied ‘Dumbledore, ‘I agree with you. Curiosity is an essential trait for any scholar. When we lose our curiosity about life we lose our will to live.’

He stroked his beard lightly for a moment, then thankfully proceeded with his original topic.

‘So…magic,’ he said. ‘Magic, as I see it, is inherently neutral. When it is used for dark purposes we call it dark magic, but really there is no such thing. There are only dark wizards. We all draw from the same magical well, but all for very different reasons.

‘Another conclusion that I have reached is that when magic is not being used, it exists only as potential. It is always flowing through the natural world, but it only gains form and meaning when we use a wand to give it direction and words to give it purpose. When we cast spells using wands and incantations, we are simply calling up and harnessing the magic that is in the air and earth around us, and bending it to our will.

‘As for Wandless magic; well that is achieved simply when a witch or wizard becomes accomplished enough to direct a stream of magic without the aid of a wand. Usually they are also able to forgo incantations. An incantation, you see, is simply a way of focussing the mind entirely on one’s intention. A powerful witch or wizard is able to achieve this focus without the aid of an incantation. Wandless magic is still limited by all the other constraints of conventional magic, though. Practitioners will still become tired and drained eventually, and will have the same limits to their power as any other witch or wizard. Wandless magic does not necessarily bring increased power; simply increased convenience and the opportunity to make subtle changes to spells.’

He paused for a moment, leaning forward onto his desk to look Hermione right in the eye.

‘What you must realise, my dear,’ he continued, ‘is that when you order magic around, you are ordering the world around, and thus ordering yourself around.’ He sat back in his chair and gazed evenly at her, apparently waiting for his words to sink in. She looked blank for a few long moments; then comprehension slowly rose above the clouds on her face.

‘Ohhh,’ she breathed. ‘I think I might see where you’re gong with this, Professor. Matter and energy…energy and matter. Yes, it fits…it’s not supernatural, it’s made of the same stuff as we are, just in another form…’

‘Precisely my dear, precisely!’ said Dumbledore, beaming. ‘Magic, energy, Mana, god…it has many different names. Myself, I don’t call it anything, because it is the same as us and we ARE EVERYTHING. Do you see? Everything is everything, as the Muggles say. It doesn’t matter where we find it – in the pages of a Holy book, under the lens of a microscope, in the beauty of nature…’

‘In nature?’ interrupted Hermione sharply. ‘You mean like…using nature to make contact with magic?’

She realised that she must have given away more than she had intended when Dumbledore sat bolt upright in his chair, a triumphant look on his face.

‘Aha!’ he exclaimed, ‘I knew it! You’ve found it!!’