Do everything turn, turn, turn, part 5
Feb. 28th, 2008 05:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bookish_dragonChapter 5
Clad in that Granger woman’s black robe Victoria stalked the hallways of Hogwarts. She’d be damned if she let Jamie get taken away from her. He was hers, even if he didn’t know it yet. She was scowling so hard she didn’t pay attention to where she was going. Not that she had any idea to begin with, she had left the TARDIS to escape the Doctor’s pitying looks. Victoria didn’t need any pity. She stopped and looked around her. Where was she? There was nothing special in this corridor, apart from a statue of a gargoyle. It was rather hideous, and Victoria looked at it in horrid fascination. It reminded her of home, the church near her father’s house. Suddenly Victoria felt very homesick. She missed her father. Why did he have to go and die on her? Now she was all alone in the world. Memories of those days unrolled in her mind, unbidden and unsuspected. She wiped away her tears just as a door appeared in the wall behind the gargoyle, which turned aside as if to clear the way. There was a spiralling staircase moving smoothly upward as Victoria stood gaping. She hadn’t noticed much of her magical surroundings before this, and it came as a shocking surprise. She stood rooted to the ground. Finally a voice called down, “Please come on up, miss Waterfield. It’s getting quite drafty up here.”
‘How does that person know my name?’ Victoria thought to herself, stepping through the doorway and onto the moving staircase. She barely noticed the doorway grinding closed behind her. Who was up there, calling her name? She opened the door at the top of the stairway, which was already standing slightly ajar. Of course, that voice had come from here. She stepped into a large circular room which was rather silent. There were paintings on the walls, or at least empty picture-frames adorning them. In one corner stood a large, empty bird perch. Behind a large desk sat a man. He had to be really old: his white beard extended below the desktop. He also had no fashion-sense. He wore jolly coloured clothes which clashed horribly with each other. He smiled at Victoria over his half-mooned spectacles. “Do have a seat, my dear.” He gestured to a chair in front of the desk.
Victoria gingerly sat down on it. “Who are you? And how do you know my name?”
“My name is Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”
“Nice to meet you,” she mumbled. “I’m Victoria Waterfield. How did you know that?” She looked at him suspiciously.
“You must allow an old man his secrets, my dear miss Waterfield.” Dumbledore smiled.
“The hell I must. What do you want with me?”
He raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think I do?”
“You know my name and invited me up. So, what is it?”
Dumbledore chuckled. “Patience, my dear.”
“I am not your dear,” Victoria snapped.
Dumbledore’s face grew serious again. “You’re insistent. All right then. What you want and what I want happen to coincide. Hermione Granger is the key to both of that. Taking her out of the equation leaves you with a free path to this Jamie. I will take care of her, with your help. She must stay alive though, I cannot stress that enough.”
Victoria listened carefully, thinking. “Why do you want her gone, then?” she finally asked.
“’Gone’ is such a harsh word. I never used that. My interests for her lie somewhere else.” Dumbledore steepled his fingers and looked over them at Victoria. “Do we have an agreement? Will you help me?”
She shrugged. Why not? She wanted that persistent clam out of Jamie’s arms. “Yes, we do. Now what is that grand plan of yours?”
Clad in that Granger woman’s black robe Victoria stalked the hallways of Hogwarts. She’d be damned if she let Jamie get taken away from her. He was hers, even if he didn’t know it yet. She was scowling so hard she didn’t pay attention to where she was going. Not that she had any idea to begin with, she had left the TARDIS to escape the Doctor’s pitying looks. Victoria didn’t need any pity. She stopped and looked around her. Where was she? There was nothing special in this corridor, apart from a statue of a gargoyle. It was rather hideous, and Victoria looked at it in horrid fascination. It reminded her of home, the church near her father’s house. Suddenly Victoria felt very homesick. She missed her father. Why did he have to go and die on her? Now she was all alone in the world. Memories of those days unrolled in her mind, unbidden and unsuspected. She wiped away her tears just as a door appeared in the wall behind the gargoyle, which turned aside as if to clear the way. There was a spiralling staircase moving smoothly upward as Victoria stood gaping. She hadn’t noticed much of her magical surroundings before this, and it came as a shocking surprise. She stood rooted to the ground. Finally a voice called down, “Please come on up, miss Waterfield. It’s getting quite drafty up here.”
‘How does that person know my name?’ Victoria thought to herself, stepping through the doorway and onto the moving staircase. She barely noticed the doorway grinding closed behind her. Who was up there, calling her name? She opened the door at the top of the stairway, which was already standing slightly ajar. Of course, that voice had come from here. She stepped into a large circular room which was rather silent. There were paintings on the walls, or at least empty picture-frames adorning them. In one corner stood a large, empty bird perch. Behind a large desk sat a man. He had to be really old: his white beard extended below the desktop. He also had no fashion-sense. He wore jolly coloured clothes which clashed horribly with each other. He smiled at Victoria over his half-mooned spectacles. “Do have a seat, my dear.” He gestured to a chair in front of the desk.
Victoria gingerly sat down on it. “Who are you? And how do you know my name?”
“My name is Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”
“Nice to meet you,” she mumbled. “I’m Victoria Waterfield. How did you know that?” She looked at him suspiciously.
“You must allow an old man his secrets, my dear miss Waterfield.” Dumbledore smiled.
“The hell I must. What do you want with me?”
He raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think I do?”
“You know my name and invited me up. So, what is it?”
Dumbledore chuckled. “Patience, my dear.”
“I am not your dear,” Victoria snapped.
Dumbledore’s face grew serious again. “You’re insistent. All right then. What you want and what I want happen to coincide. Hermione Granger is the key to both of that. Taking her out of the equation leaves you with a free path to this Jamie. I will take care of her, with your help. She must stay alive though, I cannot stress that enough.”
Victoria listened carefully, thinking. “Why do you want her gone, then?” she finally asked.
“’Gone’ is such a harsh word. I never used that. My interests for her lie somewhere else.” Dumbledore steepled his fingers and looked over them at Victoria. “Do we have an agreement? Will you help me?”
She shrugged. Why not? She wanted that persistent clam out of Jamie’s arms. “Yes, we do. Now what is that grand plan of yours?”
