Asphodel and Wormwood

Flamel's Secret

Aged moving portraits of previous Headmasters covered the walls and spinning contraptions covered every surface of Dumbledore's office. It was a perfect representation of the wizard sitting before her - a chaotic  artifact stuck in the past.

"Lemon drop?"

Hermione ignored the question and went on the offensive. "How was it even possible for that spell to get past the wards, and how are you the only person who seems to know it was me?"

"Every ward that exists on these grounds is cast by my own hand, which explains my knowledge that you are responsible for triggering the one over the arena this afternoon. I'm not sure how you managed to outsmart the wards...although they did erect themselves following your initial display to prevent further interference - what a perplexing dilemma worth analyzing later. Let us enjoy a cup of tea after such a stressful experience," he diverted immediately, setting a vaguely familiar-looking wand on his desk while observing her over his half-spectacles.

Not even attempting to hide her glare, the witch crossed her legs gracefully from the seat she'd taken across from him. "I'm sure the remaining champion from your school appreciates that you've dragged me to your office for tea instead of watching him perform the First Task."

"Just as I am sure that your dear friend will understand why it was necessary for you to leave the arena prior to her adventure in the arena. You don't think she'll be waiting to hear your cheers, do you?"

Before she could think to tighten the reins on her magical core, Hermione's already windswept curls sparked with energy. An audible spark echoed through the office, and Dumbledore's eyes twinkled in astonishment. "That was much easier to trigger than I anticipated. Although, I can imagine as you neared and passed your sixteenth birthday it's been infuriating for you to lose your grip on your magic."

The casualness of his tone didn't match the seriousness of his words. Hermione's entire body went rigid, her clasped fists clenching from their position on her knee. Through gritted teeth, she replied, "I haven't talked to anyone about that."

"Oh, Miss Granger, you'll find that there aren't many things that happen in this castle that I don't know about, especially when it comes to you."

The spinning instruments twirled with increased vigor. "Care to share whatever information you clearly possess that I'm not privy to as well? Seeing as it applies to me, that only seems fair."

Unaffected by the witch's anger, Dumbledore countered with a neutral tone, "It may be easier to show you than attempt to explain. That is, after all, how Nicolas intended for you to learn this particular lesson."

"You no longer have the right to mention his name," Hermione's tone was deadly, and if looks could kill, the infallible wizard before her would have met his match.

The Headmaster hummed in understanding, "I know that there are many things that you blame me for, but there is much that you do not know."

Standing up from his chair to cross the room, Dumbledore opened an intricately carved cabinet door. Nestled in the alcove sat a pensieve, and Hermione realized that the wizard had been speaking literally when he'd requested to show her rather than verbally explain. The man reached into the cabinet rows to pull out several vials. From across the room, Hermione could identify the handwriting on the tags even if she couldn't read them, and her chest unexpectedly tightened with emotion.

Turning back to look at her, the older man extended his arm and indicated to the witch to join him before adding, "I intend no harm to you. These memories belong to my dear friend Nicolas, and I've been tasked with providing them to you."