A Tin of Sherbet Lemons

By dented-sky


Albus put it in his mouth and sucked.

Then he placed the lid back on the tin just as the sherbet lemon exploded with crackling citrus flavour on his tongue.  Leaning forward, he folded his hands on the desk and stared at the three girls in front of him.

Luna Lovegood stared back, while Ginny Weasley looked particularly put out, and Hermione Granger had her chin and chest stuck out, appearing rather proud of herself.

“…And so I thought that it was something you should know, and they should be punished accourdingly,” she finished.  A snort was heard from Miss Weasley.

What was that all about, Bumblelove? Fawkes asked Dumbledore, I fell asleep half way through her mouth-flapping parade. He was sitting on his perch, glaring disinterestedly at the back of Miss Lovegood’s head.

Something about the Ravenclaw Quidditch stands, thirty tubs of yoghurt and all our school brooms, he answered. A pause. Remind me to get someone to replace them all.

Of course, my Lovely.

“May I please say something, Professor?” Miss Weasley barked out.

Albus waved his hand for her to continue.

She stuck her chin out and rolled her shoulders.  “We’re sorry about the yoghurt, and the brooms, and the hippogriff, and Weddy the house-elf, and everything, but,” here she paused and glared at Miss Granger, “to be perfectly frank Professor, she’s only angry because she’s jealous.”

Miss Granger lost her footing and gaped. “I most certainly am not –“

“Oh come on, Hermione. You don’t flash your Head Girl badge whenever you catch Ron and Mandy, or Harry and Malfoy, or Hagrid and –“

“Hagrid is an adult, Miss Weasley.”

“Oh, yes, I’m sorry, Professor.”

Meanwhile, Miss Lovegood had been gazing and making subtle faces at the portraits.  Fawkes ruffled his feathers.

Dorey-hunny, can we get this to move faster? I’m quite frustrated, if you catch my feather.

Albus abruptly stood up.  “I shall discuss the issue with the Heads of your Houses.  You are dismissed.”

Miss Granger looked desperate.  “But Professor –“

“I believe there is a certain Mister Potter and a Mister Malfoy that need to be rescued from the Room of Requirement, Miss Granger?”

Those damn dungeon chains, Albie.

“And perhaps you should somehow acquire Mister Filch’s set of keys before you step in to disrupt their predicament.”

Miss Granger looked properly confused for a second, before she nodded and headed out the door.  A humming Luna Lovegood and scowling Ginny Weasley followed her out.

There was a moment of silence, of portrait faces looking on and the quiet ticking and whirring of little magical knick-knacks.

Do you know, Albus said to Fawkes finally, I forgot to give them useless advice spoken in an enigmatic statement.

Oh dear, they’ll never survive the day, said Fawkes sarcastically.  He watched Albus closely with his depthless black eyes, and they shared a secret smile.

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