Slytherin Army [HP]

6. Lemons are the New Popcorn

Drew had been sent to the principal's office countless times, but she'd never heard of anyone being sent to the Headmaster's office. She figured this Professor Dumbledore seemed way too important and too busy all the time to be bothered by some minor deadly squabble in the hallways.

She knocked on the professor's door anyway. After all, she had absolutely no care of what going to happen now. Nothing was giving Eliza back to her, no matter how much she wanted it.

The gargoyle was stonily glaring at her. She booped it on the nose.

She nearly fell over when it moved and began lecturing her, "No manners!! Kids these days! No 'how do you do, Mr. Gargoyle?' Noooo you get a punch in the face! What a greeting!"

"It was a poke," she defended herself, glad for something to distract her. It was so easy to fall back into anger — the only emotion that hasn't let her down yet. "It wasn't a punch, so consider yourself lucky."

"Was that a threat you insolent brat?"

"Yes, it was, you rude piece of rock."

"Arrraghhhh —!"

The ugly statue was interrupted mid-shout of frustration by Dumbledore opening the door.

"Ah," he said, looking back and forth from Drew to the gargoyle, before resting his eyes on the statue. "How do you do, Mr. Gargoyle?"

It nodded approvingly, "Now that's how you do things. I'm mildly frustrated, thank you. And you, Headmaster?"

"Mildly curious. Come in, Miss Getaway."

Dumbledore sat himself down in his ancient chair and waved at the equally ancient chair on the other side of the claw-footed desk, "Please sit."

She slid into the seat and heard a small creak.

"You needn't worry about the chair," he said softly, "students hardly ever fall through it. Lemon drop?" The professor passed her a bowl of yellow candy, which she recognized from a Muggle store.

"Yeah, sure," Drew popped three of them in her mouth at once so she wasn't able to speak. She wanted to think about what had just happened so she could figure out how she was going to talk about it.

While waiting for her to finish chewing, Dumbledore passed a little glass container to her. "Healing balm for your hand," he explained kindly.

She remembered that the acid was still burning a little. Such minor pain. Drew stuck her finger in the jar and spread the cream over her hand, "Thanks, sir."

He continued to fiddle with his fingers and peer at her over his spectacles.

Drew was still chewing on the candy, and took the opportunity to take in his office. It was huge and circular, with a fireplace roaring in front of two more newer-looking armchairs.

Shelves of thick books were everywhere, along with lab-like equipment and cabinets bursting with trophies. One shelf had the Sorting Hat on it, which looked like it was either sleeping or in deep thought.

The rest of the walls were covered in paintings of past Headmasters. Some weren't aware of Drew's presence and were doing quite the most embarrassing things.

Still, it was cozy. Drew felt a tiny bit better.

Professor Dumbledore coughed quietly, and she took her attention away from a phoenix and realized she'd swallowed the candy.

"So Miss Getaway, what brings you here? I sense something terrible has happened."

"Snape sent me here," she mumbled, staring at her hand as it healed slowly. If only mending her heart would be this easy.