Just Another Kid

Just Another Kid

I pass them in the corridors; they don't even acknowledge my existence. But of course, who would? No one pays any mind to a lone Ravenclaw second year, especially not the 'Troubled Trio', as I have come to refer to the three fourth years as. The only friends that I have managed to gain since last year tell me to steer clear of those reckless Gryffindors, to get back to my studies. But they don't understand. All I want, all I need, all I dream about is recognition. Even a nod from Snape would be nice. Alas, Professor Snape just despises Ravenclaws because he cannot berate us for ruining our concoctions.

As I trudge into the Great Hall for lunch on a Friday in December, I shake my head and glance up at the staff table to the headmaster, Professor Dumbledore. What has our great headmaster ever done for me? I wonder. He always talks to them, but to everyone else; an enigma. I sit down at the Ravenclaw table, still staring at him. Then, as if he could sense my gaze, Dumbledore turns and looks straight at me. I am sure his twinkling blue orbs have landed on no one else. Bright green eyes widening, I turn to my food quickly, my long brown hair swishing over my shoulder. But as I eat, the hairs on my neck stand up and I get the feeling he has not stopped examining the back of my head.

After lunch, I have Charms, so I march dutifully in the direction of the classroom, only to be stopped in my tracks by Jessica Warbledorf, a Hufflepuff who I am not the best of friends with. I am already late, and there is no one else in the corridor, so I try and make the encounter as short as possible.

"Emily Dobbsworth. Well, isn't this a wonderful meeting?" she inquires sarcastically, amber eyes glinting.

"Out of my way, Warbledorf," I spit, glaring at her.

"Oh, using last names, are we? Why Emily, I'm shocked. You don't even have the grace to say my given name."

"You see Warbledorf, I would, but then my mouth would be fouled up with filth, and I need it clean to pronounce charms. So if you'll excuse me, I'll be on my way."

I push past her but am stopped again by a well-placed Jelly Legs Curse. Knowing the counter curse, I am back to normal and turn around to face her.

"No one talks like that to Jessica Lynn Warbledorf, heir to the Warbledorf line, as close to pureblood as you can possibly be without--"

"Maybe you should have been in Slytherin, then. All this blathering about bloodlines."

She gasps.

"How dare you suggest such a thing! I will have to teach you a lesson in manners, Dobbsworth!"

"You couldn't teach Professor Dumbledore a Levitation Spell."

"That's it!" she cries, aiming her wand at me. "Imperio!"

I jump aside just in time to see the curse fly past me towards a suit of armor, turning back to Jessica with a horrified look on my face.

"How do you know an Unforgivable?"

She grins evilly, chuckling.

"You've forgotten, haven't you? You know that new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? Moody? He showed us all three of the Unforgivables."

"But surely you're not supposed to practice them?"

"Who says I'm supposed to? I'm just having fun watching you jump around a bit."

My eyes narrow against my olive skin.

"You want to have fun, Warbledorf? No harm in playing, right? Petrificus Totalus!"

She is on the ground in seconds. I walk over to her and bend down.

"Guess the Warbledorf line didn't teach you much about blocking, did it? See you later, Slytherin." I walk off to Charms, already late, but I don't care. I've wanted to vent at Jessica for some time now, and have finally done it.

Earning a detention for my antics, I remind myself not to make any plans for Saturday as I walk out of Charms toward the dungeons, where I have Potions next. Too bad, since Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff have Potions together, I have to see Jessica again. That is if she's up by now. That thought makes me snicker. But as soon as I enter the dungeon, I get a surprise that wipes the grin off my face.

Professor Sprout and Jessica are standing by my usual seat, both looking cross. Cautiously, I advance to see what they might want. Professor Sprout speaks first.

"Miss Dobbsworth, is what Miss Warbledorf telling me true?"

"Um, what is she telling you, exactly?"

"She tells me that while she was walking in the corridor towards her next class, you attacked her, bent on some silly sort of revenge."

I am about to yell and screech and make a great racket about how Jessica is a filthy liar, but that will get me no place. Jessica is the equivalent to ten teacher's pets'. She can get virtually whatever she wants, whenever she wants. All the professors adore her, except for Snape of course, but he doesn't adore anyone. So, giving up, I reply,

"Yes Professor Sprout, I guess that's right then."

Jessica smirks, her face contorting and reminding me of one of the Gringotts goblins. I cringe.

"Well then, we will have to take the matter to Professor Dumbledore."

I gape.

"What?"

"Dueling and or using magic in the corridors is strictly prohibited. Unless that's not what happened?"

I cast my eyes down to the floor, examining the stonework.

"Very well. Come along you two. Professor Snape, these two are excused from class until further notice."

Professor Snape nods slightly, and then goes back to teaching. Or rather, sneering at the class until the potions are perfect.

The three of us walk swiftly out of the dungeons and up through Hogwarts' winding corridors to a morbid stone gargoyle. I wonder when we will get to Professor Dumbledore's office when Professor Sprout says simply,

"Lemon drop."

I am about to tell her that this is not the time to be thinking about sweets when the gargoyle moves aside to reveal a moving spiral staircase. Duh, Emily. Password. Jessica and I get on, but Professor Sprout falls back. We move away quickly and the professor only gets in a few words before the gargoyle moves again.

"I trust you can tell him what happened . . . ." The rest of it fades off into a mumble, so whatever she said; I hope it was not too important. An oak door comes into view before us, so we hop off the staircase and I knock.

"Come in," comes the omnipotent voice of Dumbledore through the thick door.

I gulp down the lump in my throat and carefully walk in, as if I am afraid of some attack. Jessica follows behind me.

He smiles at us both, motions for us to take a seat, and leans forward on his desk, hands clasped together.

"What can I do for you, Miss Warbledorf, Miss Dobbsworth?"

I sigh, knowing that whatever I say, it will be challenged, whatever I do, it will be contradicted, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.(etc.) So I flop back and let Jessica spew her lies to the supposed great Albus Dumbledore.

"I was just heading to my Care of Magical Creatures classes after lunch, Professor, and she attacked me! Out of no where! I think she has some issues that I'd be willing to talk out with her, but Emily's so violent!"

She breaks down into sobs so phony that I bet even Professor Binns can tell the difference. And he doesn't even pay attention half the time. Professor Dumbledore simply smiles sadly and stands up behind his desk.

"Miss Warbledorf, could you step outside for a moment? I need to talk to Miss Dobbsworth alone, maybe see if I can find the source of this anger."

I snicker softly as Jessica leaves, still putting on the act. Dumbledore sits down after closing the door and muttering some incantation. This time it is in the chair next to me, the one Jessica has just vacated. I prepare to have my head bitten off by yet another teacher who hates to see their precious "Miss Warbledorf" upset in any way. There is no shouting, however. I look up . . . and straight into those twinkling sky blue eyes behind the spectacles, the eyes that match the smile. I cannot look away now; he holds my gaze.

"Do you think I am old, Ms. Dobbsworth?"

This is such a straight forward question that I don't know what to say for a time. When I regain control of my voice, I still sputter and stutter like a creaky old automobile engine. (I'm Muggle-born.)

"Well, um, that is to say, uh, in comparison to what, Headmaster?" At least I haven't made a complete fool of myself.

He keeps smiling, and his grin actually seems to increase in size after I finish speaking.

"Anything, my dear."

"Um, well, yes, wait, uh, no?"

"It's not nice to lie, Emily."

Now he's got my attention. The only people who know me as Emily are sitting on their bums in "merry old England", drinking tea and wondering when it will stop raining. (Who, if you haven't figured out by now, are my parents.) My friends simply call me Em.

"I may be old, but I believe I'm smart enough to remember class schedules and the name of every student that enters this school."

What is he getting at?

"This means that Miss Warbledorf was obviously lying. Second year Hufflepuffs do not have Care of Magical Creatures after lunch, they have Transfiguration. Why didn't you say anything?"

I am taken aback. Here is the Headmaster, not biting my head off, not giving me detention, and asking me to speak against 'Wonderful Warbledorf', not for.

"Well, Headmaster, I didn't think you'd believe me. I mean, with Jessica's reputation--"

"Reputations are over-rated, my dear girl. After all, Harry Potter is just a normal teenager like every other student in my school. The only reason the world populace knows his name is because of a scar, a scar which he does not even remember receiving. I would think he would give all that up to just be normal."

"Yes, but . . . um . . . anyway, Jessica attacked me first. I was only trying to get to Charms and she was in the way."

"I believe you, Emily. The moment I saw the smug look on Miss Warbledorf's face, I knew the blame lie with someone innocent."

"Soooooo . . . I'm gonna get off?"

His eyes twinkle more.

"I'm afraid I can't let you 'get off', as you put it. Miss Warbledorf would undoubtedly go to her parents and tell them some fantastic story that would probably include more things than she has just told me. So, this is my proposal. One Saturday a month, you will come up to my office and we will discuss matters of school, play a game of chess, or whatever is most appropriate at the time. I should think tomorrow would be a good time to start. Just explain to Miss Warbledorf that you will have to continue seeing me for the rest of the year. It is not lying, and I am sure she will use her imagination. Do we have an understanding?"

I am overcome with joy, a feeling I have not experienced lately.

"Y-yes, Professor Dumbledore."

He leans back in his chair, looking pleased.

"If we are to become more than headmaster and student, we can eliminate these useless titles. Call me Albus."

This is unexpected. Nevertheless, I merely nod my head in semi-shock and we both stand.

"Then I will see you tomorrow, around two o'clock?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Excellent! Then I believe you have Potions, as does Miss Warbledorf."

I groan. Knowing Snape, he'll test us on stuff from that class that I haven't learned. Guess I'll be reading more into my Potions textbook, then. I walk over and open the door, only to see Jessica standing there, looking disappointed. Albus (it feels odd to say or even think that) must have put a silencing spell on it. But when she sees my face, her own lights up.

"What do you have to do?" she asks, almost bouncing with excitement.

I give an exasperated sigh that sounds so real, I almost mistake it for the real thing myself.

"I have to continue seeing Al--Professor Dumbledore for the rest of the year. Real bummer, huh?"

"Yeah," she says snickering, "real bummer." She skips away and I follow at a slower, loping pace, knowing that Albus Dumbledore is no longer a mystery (or no longer a big one anyway), and will never be one to anyone who needs help, consolation, or just plain cheering up.