Mischief Managed

4: Dumbledore's Office

Is wickedness still evil if it comes from love?

Because I have so much love. So much love and so much darkness, yet they don't seem to conflict one bit. They live side-by-side in my heart, working as a team to spin my thoughts.

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I followed Dumbledore to his office.  Crap, crap, crap. Maybe I'd screwed up enough to finally get chucked out this time. What would my parents say? I wasn't sure if I could face the look of disappoint on their faces; they'd been so proud when I was accepted to Hogwarts. How disgusted would they be upon realizing I got expelled for seriously injuring another student? Tears were threatening to leak from my eyes, and I took a deep breath in an attempt to calm myself.

Be reasonable, I consoled myself. Dumbledore has to know what happened to Snivellus was an accident.

"Fudge Flies," Dumbledore said to a golden phoenix set majestically in a section of the castle wall. The bird turned, opening a wide spiraling staircase. I trekked a few steps below Dumbledore, trailing his star-patterned navy cloak. I kept inhaling frequently, desperate to crush the growing pit in my stomach.

At last we reached the top. Dumbledore pushed open a tall mahogany door that opened into his office. I froze a moment, taken aback by the various oddities throughout the room, and cast my eyes in all directions.

As he took his seat behind a long desk by the room's only window, he gestured towards a stiffly-backed chair positioned across from him. I slowly lowered myself into the seat. My sweaty palms firmly gripped the chair's wooden bottom, and I had stopped breathing entirely.

Dumbledore was silently observing my apprehension. I waited for him to speak, yet he said nothing. Unable to wait any longer, I burst out, "Professor, it was an accident. I didn't mean to hurt Sn-Severus, I don't know-"

"My dear, it is alright. I don't believe you intended serious harm towards Severus Snape," Dumbledore said, and he smiled kindly at me from behind his half-moon glasses.

I sunk into my chair, relief filling my body. "T-Thank you, sir. But, I-I..."

"You what, Miss Convelo?"

My fingers began twisting the end of my braid, wrapping it's tail around my thumb again and again until I finally found the words to speak.

"I shouldn't...I deserve to be e-expelled."

"If I had believed that you had shoved Mr. Snape with the desire to cause him serious injury, then I would agree with you. However, since the circumstances appear to be quite different, I instead believe that in front of me is simply a girl who reacted without thought and now is dealing with quite a bit of regret." He said this all in the same, quiet tone as I sat wordlessly in across from him.

"I have to be punished, though, don't I?" Even to myself, my voice sounded pathetically weak.

Dumbledore leaned forward, smiling gently, as if he were trying to steady my shaky words with his radiating kindness.

"You appear to be already punishing yourself."

I dropped my the end of my braid, my hands falling into my lap. My eyes carefully studied their smooth, untanned skin and clean, clear-coated nails.

What Dumbledore was saying was true- my mind had grasped the pleasure of torturing myself with what I had done: images flashed across my mind in a never-ending slide show- I saw Snivelly fly into the Willow again, except this time onto a branch so close to the trunk that there was no hope of rescue; I watched his blood splatter the grass in front of my feet, saw the looks of combined horror, disgust, and utter revulsion on my friends' faces as they met my haunted gaze; but, no, by far the worst images were those of myself- I saw myself, dressed identically as I was now, watching Snivelly fly into the Willow. Except the me I saw wasn't regretful, she wasn't tear-stained. She was laughing.

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After Dumbledore released me, I stepped out into the corridor. My mind was still haunted by my own thoughts. I inhaled deeply, trying in vain to suck out the regret gnawing at my conscience. The halls were completely silent; everyone was in their classes, but I didn't feel any urge to return to Defense Against the Dark Arts.

You're okay, I reassured myself. If Dumbledore doesn't blame you, you shouldn't blame yourself.

I wandered through the empty corridors for a few minutes longer, but ultimately decided to go back to class out of fear Dumbledore would somehow find out I'd skipped.

My book bag was still in the common room. The Fat Lady fixed me with a stern glare of deep disapproval when I arrived in front of her portrait. I supposed she had good reason to frown; my hair must have been in a tangly mess, my uniform was caked in dirt, and I was hanging around in the corridors in the middle of a Monday.

"Die Bona," I told her in the most confident voice I could muster, trying to ignore her judgmental eyes.

"And what are you doing here in the middle of your classes?" she asked nosily.

"Die Bona," I repeated, avoiding her question.

"Oh, very well," she said, irritated, as her portrait swung open.

The Tower was eerily quite, and I stepped quickly over some discarded books, sweets, and pillows, to grab my bag from upstairs. I selected another uniform from my trunk, changed, then knotted my hair into a ponytail in a feeble attempt to hide its annoying tangles. Reluctantly, I left the dormitory, already prepping myself for the facade I'd have to wear until I resolved whatever mental war was going on inside of me.

❋ ❋ ❋ ❋

After making my way through the castle as slow as a human can possible move, I pushed open the doors to the classroom. Every head turned towards me. Professor Caussa paused mid-sentence, gestured roughly towards my empty seat next to James, then continued her lecture, ("As I was saying, counter jinxes vary greatly from anti-jinxes from the core concept that counter-jinxes are to be used to end the effect of a jinx, while an anti-")

Thankfully, I had already become quite adept at tuning her out, and strode peacefully to my seat. No one else seemed to be paying Caussa much attention, either; nearly everyone's gaze, save Lily's, had been following my slow progress across the room. I fell into my seat next to James, and he turned concernedly towards me.

"What happened?" he asked.

I couldn't tell James about what Dumbledore had said-or what he had made me realize-in class, so I just said, "I'm not in trouble, Dumbledore said Snivelly's going to be alright."

"Mmph," James said, clearly unsatisfied with this answer. "And he took nearly an hour to tell you that much?"

"I-I can't talk now. After class."

Caussa was scanning the classroom threateningly, her hawk-like eyes piercing through slacking students, and, force once I was grateful for her vicious gaze since it served as a cover for the real reason why I couldn't look James in the eye.

"Fine," James whispered, "I have something to tell you too."