The Magical House of Dumbledore (A Marauders Love Story)

Chapter Nine.

I was forced to write this next chapter the way it is (In Dumbledore's POV).

Probably the worst writers block I've had in ages, and yet I write. Hahaha.

But the story line in this chapter is mine, and I think it's an interesting twist :3

Sudden realization today- Bruno Mars looks like a fish :P

~Deb :D

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DUMBLEDORE'S POV.

Harley sat in front of me with a concentrating face.

"Sickle for your thoughts?" I asked.

"No need to bribe," she said with a smile. "I'm just contemplating something and it worries me."

Her face went back into concentrating.

"Would you like to tell me?" I hinted.

"Oh, right," she said, turning a light shade of pink. "Well, I've been thinking about Sirius."

I smiled at her. "I see, and what would these thoughts be?"

"I think I might actually have a crush on him," she said in a quiet voice, blushing more. "It doesn't help that I'm going out with Regulas."

"And what will you do?" I asked.

"Try and not go crazier," she muttered.

"I'm sure that isn't possible."

She grinned. "Probably not," she said. "But we shall find out soon. Right, onto Defense Against the Dark Arts."

The class was like yesterday's. Hard for me, while she was sending jinxes at me non-verbally. Her spells were extremely hard to block, even with my wand. Her wand, though, was the second strongest. She was just like the previous owner of that wand, her real Mother. Of course she didn't know the history of it. It would never have another owner unless the wand chooses another.

Which had been her.

She stopped when I had missed one, and she stopped it an inch from my face. It went sideways, and burst into a light of colour. "Professor, are you alright?" she asked.

"Just feeling a little old, that's all," I said with a smile.

"Although, your eyes tell another story," she said.

"I'm afraid I cannot tell you," I said sadly.

She nodded.

"Not yet," I said.

She nodded with a smile now. "How about a little bit of theory?"

"Okay," I said, and then I started to teach her more. At this rate she's going, she could get to her O.W.L's by the end of the year. I decided to ask her by the end of the class.

"Harley," I said, and she looked up from writing.

"Yes, Professor?"

"How would you feel about doing your O.W.Ls by the end of this year. I would take it upon myself that you learn all your fourth year things, and fifth," I said. "Really, you would have an advantage over most students, seeing as you have learned all this."

"I would love to!" she exclaimed.

I chuckled. "I will inform the other teachers."

She wasn't a Muggleborn, as much as she thought she was, she was far from it. She was a pure-blood discendant of Antioch Peverell, the eldest of the Peverell brother's, the original owner of the wand I currently own.

She is also distantly related to Salazar Slytherin, Tom Riddle, and the Potter family.

Only one of them Half-blooded and hates all non-purebloods.

(Editor's note- That could possibly be one of the most hilarious lines ever if you're me and think that Dumbledore will never say that)

(A/N- You did that.)

Some say that he made the Elder wand and other's say that Death had crafted it for him. Whether either of these are true is unknown, but I believe he crafted it.

Ten minutes later, there was a knock at my door. "Enter," I called out.

Minerva walked inside, and took a seat. "Albus, I think you should put Miss Davidson into fifth year," she said.

I smiled. "I will," I said. "We had already made plans of it."

"I-- you had?" she asked, her eyes shooting up. "When?"

"Eleven minutes ago," I said. "She agree'd."

"How?"

"Her agreeing or the idea?"

"The idea," she said impatiently.

 "It had just came to me," I replied. "She's doing extremely well for her first year here, already one of the best in fourth. Although, riddles are not her strong point."

"Does she know about her ancestry?" she asked.

"No, not yet," I said.

"Who found her? She wasn't meant to be found."

"Fudge, he noticed that there was one missing student last year," I said grimly.

She nodded. "You know what your neice said, keep her safe." On those words, she left.

Confused? She's my great-neice and a Peverell.