by Phoenix in the Ashes » Sunday 29 April 2007 12:20:06am
Professor Dumbledore stood in the corner of the room; he looked much older than he had a few days ago.
"Professor," said Arsenio. "It was Tom Riddle. He was right here, doing something... there," he pointed. Dumbledore followed his hand to the centre of the room, and stood there for a few moments. Then he jumped back as though there was a nasty smell there. Possibly there was, Arsenio thought.
"I know, Arsenio. And I can ask no more of you," said Dumbledore, his beard drooping, "than to forgive me."
"Sir?"
It seemed Dumbledore had nothing else to say. A tear was visible for a few seconds as it rolled down his face.
"Come," the professor said. "I'll lead you to your Common-Room."
"Sir, I know where it is."
"Nevertheless, it would make me feel better."
Arsenio decided to follow him without further argument. Dumbledore looked like he had fallen apart by the seams. He looked... ashamed. They walked in silence through the dungeons until they came to Slytherin's base. Just before the professor walked away, Arsenio callled out to him, "Sir?" He turned around.
"You wonder what I am going to do about tonight's incident?"
Arsenio nodded.
"I'll do what I always do," he said softly. "Tell the Headmaster that young Tom needs to be carefully watched.
Arsrenio shook his head. "That's not enough."
"No... it's not. But I made an astronomical error of judgement tonight, Arsenio, and I cannot let it happen again."
"But Sir..."
Dumbledore nodded. "I know. But there is nothing more I can do. I am only a teacher. There is nothing more I can do without the Headmaster's support."
"But Dippet eats out of Riddle's hand!"
"Professor Dippet, Arsenio."
"But... the Heir of Slytherin."
"One attack does not make the rumours real."
"But somebody attacked that girl!"
"Yes - and they will be caught and punished. And if it is Master Riddle... but I fear at that end of this it will not be young Tom that will be punished. The world is not as it should be, Master Parkinson. Just look at the muggles. Wars, Arsenio. We cannot panic.
"I can ask no more of you, Master Parkinson, than to forgive me for tonight. And to look after yourself."