by
Catherine King
Ron seemed impressed. Hermione, however, was shocked.
“The Gringotts goblins never told you?!” she asked, horrified. “That is so dishonest!!!!”
“Don’t tell us, Hermione, tell them. You can bring it up when you open your own vault,” said Ron. To Harry he said, “Wow, I would never believe you have, like, 2 different houses. Can you lend one to my family?” Harry laughed. “Tough luck, Ron, but once I find out where they are, maybe I’ll let someone stay in it for holiday.”
Harry left the hosipital wing feeling refreshed and relieved. When Professor McGonagall came around the corner, however, he all of a sudden seemed to have snakes instead of guts. But she told him that Dumbledore wanted to see him, and Harry smiled. Dumbledore was kind, clever, and had a unique sense of humor. Harry went up to the stone gargoyle. “Umm,” he said, “jelly slug?”
No response from the inanimate object.
“Acid pop? Sherbert lemon? Butterbeer? Custard tart?”
At once the stone gargoyle leapt out of the way.
Harry was soon inside Dumbledore’s office. A fine, circular room, with weird little instruments and the paintings of ever-sleeping former Headmasters and Headmistresses. All of a sudden, Fawkes the phoenix appeared on a shelf, next to the Sorting Hat, the sword of Godric Gryffindor, and Dumbledore’s Penisieve.
“Hello, Harry. Have a seat.”
Harry sat down.
“Now, Harry,” said Dumbledore in an understanding tone. “I have been at this school for many wonderful years. The first time I ever saw Hogwarts, I knew that I would someday be a Headmaster. I soon became a teacher, and about 25 years ago, I became the Headmaster of Hogwarts.
“The years I’ve spent here have been the best way to spend 42 years, and I am sad to leave it…”
“You don’t mean,” said Harry, cutting him off, “that you’re retiring?”
“I am. It’s been a hard decision, but I do feel the need for travel, yes, I’d like to visit Florida with my girlfriend…”
“Excuse me, but may I ask who she is?” asked Harry, a mischievous light dancing in his emerald eyes.
Dumbledore’s white bread turned pink - I swear, pink - at the cheeks.
“Forget I said anything,” he mumbled J.
“Anyway, I would like to visit Florida, see some good sights, blah blah blah.”
“But who will take your place as Headmaster?”
“Minerva McGonagall. In a couple of years, I may have Miss Granger as the next Transfiguration teacher/Head of Gryffindor. I already expect Mr. Longbottom to be Herbology teacher, but as he is a Gryffindor, a few problems may arise…
“I want you to know that in case you need a job to get you on your feet, I must say that the school has many open spots. The paintings need to be repainted, a driver would be handy for the Hogwarts Express, yadda yadda yadda.”
Harry was almost numb with shock. The mere thought of Hogwarts being run by someone other than Dumbledore almost gave him the heebie-jeebies. Dumbledore would join the paintings around the walls, but Harry could not imagine him sleeping in the frame. Harry had a harder time imagining Dumbledore in a Hawaiian shirt, straw hat and shorts, in the airport. Ha!
A small croon from Fawkes brought Harry out of the Everglades and into reality (a little longer and he would’ve cruised to the beach and Universal Orlando - maybe even a show of Jeopardy!… Ha!).
“By the way,” said Dumbledore. “Do you have any idea on who sent me a pair of socks for Christmas?”
“It was me, Headmaster.”
“Well, then, I think I should give you extra credit on your N.E.W.T.S. No one else knows how much I yearn for a pair of thick, woolen socks.”
