Categories > Books > Harry Potter > The Secret Lives Of Potions Masters
The Hearth
0 reviewsSomeone gets hurt. Dumbledore has to send Hermione for help from an unexpected place. Takes place in sixth year, contains spoilers of OOTP. (Crossover with Greg Sanders from CSI, don't worry it wor...
-1Illiterate
(Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor anything contained within these pages, no infringement is intended)
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"Another day over, eh, Fawkes?" said Professor Dumbledore scratching the phoenix lightly on the head. "Not molting yet are you, ah well, all things in time I suppose" the Professor continued as he made his way over to a chair by the fireplace. Waiting by the seat, as always, was a freshly made cup of hot cocoa. "Thank you, Dobby," the Professor said to no one in particular, after all you never knew who was listening, and it never hurt to be polite. Dumbledore sat in his chair, contemplating the empty fireplace, quietly thinking.
‘Thus far the year was progressing uneventfully. There had been no attacks, no apparent movement at all from Voldermort, not since the Ministry of Magic had finally capitulated and announced his return. That revelation, for so it seemed to many, was not sitting well with the wizarding world, nor with his students, some of whom were preparing to take their places in that world. The threat of the coming war, instead of compelling them to forget past grievances and work together, was instead splintering them further apart.
Still it’s a new year, full of opportunities to convince them to trust each other. No matter what the future held, without trust, all ventures are guaranteed to fail.’
"Headmaster" a voice cried out, jarring Dumbledore out of his ruminations. "Headmaster," the voice cried again urgently as Madame Pomfrey’s head appeared in the fireplace. "Good evening, Madame Pomfrey, I trust…" Professor Dumbledore began, but could not continue further for Madame Pomfrey’s head spoke again, "you must come to the hospital wing immediately." And then vanished, leaving the hearth empty once more. As Professor Dumbledore rushed out of his office he felt a chill steal over him, something had gone wrong.
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"Another day over, eh, Fawkes?" said Professor Dumbledore scratching the phoenix lightly on the head. "Not molting yet are you, ah well, all things in time I suppose" the Professor continued as he made his way over to a chair by the fireplace. Waiting by the seat, as always, was a freshly made cup of hot cocoa. "Thank you, Dobby," the Professor said to no one in particular, after all you never knew who was listening, and it never hurt to be polite. Dumbledore sat in his chair, contemplating the empty fireplace, quietly thinking.
‘Thus far the year was progressing uneventfully. There had been no attacks, no apparent movement at all from Voldermort, not since the Ministry of Magic had finally capitulated and announced his return. That revelation, for so it seemed to many, was not sitting well with the wizarding world, nor with his students, some of whom were preparing to take their places in that world. The threat of the coming war, instead of compelling them to forget past grievances and work together, was instead splintering them further apart.
Still it’s a new year, full of opportunities to convince them to trust each other. No matter what the future held, without trust, all ventures are guaranteed to fail.’
"Headmaster" a voice cried out, jarring Dumbledore out of his ruminations. "Headmaster," the voice cried again urgently as Madame Pomfrey’s head appeared in the fireplace. "Good evening, Madame Pomfrey, I trust…" Professor Dumbledore began, but could not continue further for Madame Pomfrey’s head spoke again, "you must come to the hospital wing immediately." And then vanished, leaving the hearth empty once more. As Professor Dumbledore rushed out of his office he felt a chill steal over him, something had gone wrong.
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