Harry Potter: The Witty Wizard

"I'm your betrothed and you are mine, Harry," she explained. "This is a subject you and I should be expected to talk about. Well, not just expected; we should talk about."

Glancing her way, he swallowed and nodded.

"Good," she firmly said, "Now, if you wouldn't mind, what did you learn about a woman's sex organs?"

As he tentatively began to discuss what he had read, all the while occupying himself with making the dinner, he more and more relaxed and became more open. This was biology, rather than sex. That was precisely what Hermione wanted to happen.

_‗_

―==(oIo)==―

ˇ

At just before 8.00pm Dumbledore stood outside the gargoyle to the Headmistress's office and was forced to wait outside, fuming. He remembered it wasn't that long ago he could command people to attend him and make them wait, as he was now forced to do. It was doubly galling it was before the same gargoyle guardian to the same office that was once his.

Finally, as the time ticked over to 8.00pm, the gargoyle nimbly stepped aside.

Without a word he stepped through the now revealed opening and onto the stairs as they moved to ascend him up to the landing before the Headmas- Headmistress's office.

Of course, he also had to knock on the door. Yet another pointed insult.

"Come in, Albus," he heard Marchbanks call from within.

As he strode in he gave his wand a gentle flick behind himself to banish the door shut.

Marchbanks didn't even seem to be paying any attention to his approach. 'Damned annoying woman!' he thought.

She sat there, wrapping up some parchment work she was working on, when her hearing told her Dumbledore had stopped.

Still not looking up and clear enough for the old man to hear, she muttered, "Take a seat, Albus. I'll be with you in a moment."

She gave it another fifteen seconds before she set aside what she was doing - reading yet another application for one of the vacant positions - and looked across her desk at the person she now knew she could get rid of at any time she wanted to.

She had already met with the School Board over his list of questionable activities since his trial and they all agreed he had breached the conditions of his tenure enough to fire him. The ward tap was the final straw, even for them. Now, she just kept him there so that young Lord Potter would not be so bothered by him. She'd be getting rid of him just before it was time for the students to return.

The application she was currently reading was a Transfiguration Master's application, one she had accepted and one she was reading over again. The man, John Biffingwater, would be arriving at the school on Saturday, the second of January, and be ready to begin on the Monday. Dumbledore would not be told who he was until the Sunday.

"You wanted to speak with me, Albus?" she pleasantly asked.

"I wanted to speak with you first thing this morning after breakfast," he grouched. Going so far as to almost slouch on the hard wooden chair that sat before her desk, centred and back ten feet.

"And yet, as I informed you, I was too busy," she stated. "Does this mean you do not wish to speak with me now?"

"You need to revisit your decision to cancel the Tournament Yule Ball," he snapped. "There's―"

"No," she firmly stated right back over the top of him.

Her immediate and firm interruption threw the old man a bit. "I... pardon? I haven't had time―"

"I said, 'No', Albus," she repeated. "The Yule Ball is cancelled. It's done. Now, is there anything else you wanted to speak with me about?"

He tried, "Griselda, please see―"

Again, overriding him she barked, "Headmistress Marchbanks, Al-bie!"

He winced, "Errr... quite." Shaking off the effect of the berating, he said, "Headmistress Marchbanks, you need to be reasonable. The Tournament Yule Ball―"

"Albus!" she suddenly barked.

When he suddenly stopped in shock and winced, she glared at him and said, "When you said, 'You need to be reasonable', just then, you implied by your choice of words I wasn't being reasonable. That was an insult. I do not appreciate my staff insulting me, Albus. You will not do that again."

"Errr... My apologies, Gri... err... Headmistress Marchbanks. I misspoke."

When she just continued to stare at him not saying a word, he finally returned to what he was saying. "As I was saying, the Yule Ball is an important component of the Tournament. It is planned to use the dates of the four champions as the hostages for the champions to rescue in the Second Task.

"So, as―"

Suddenly smacking her palm onto the desk before her, Marchbanks stared in fury at the old man. "What do you mean... hostages?" she growled.

"The three champions," he replied. "Well, four with Mister Potter also―"

"Lord Potter!" she barked.

Again, Dumbledore winced. "Yes... quite... Lord Potter. Well... as I was saying... with four champions now involved, four hostages will need to be selected for the four champions to rescue as part of the Second Task. It was decided, quite some time ago, that those hostages would be the dates the champions took as their partners to the Yule Ball.

"So, as you can see, the Ball―"

"Stop!" she snapped. "Shut up!"

Again, Dumbledore was brought to a sudden stop. He looked back in a combination of annoyance at being interrupted and confused as why she would need him to.

She glared at him for a few moments more before she quietly but firmly demanded, "And, just what plans did you have in place to seek permission from the legal guardians of those hostages in advance?"

Confused, Dumbledore asked, "What do you mean?"

Shocked at the stupidity of the man, she glared at him for a few long moments before she said, "Follow me here, Albus. You would need permission from the legal guardians of those you would choose as hostages. How did you plan on getting that permission?"

Clearly puzzled, Dumbledore replied, "I... don't know what you mean. Each student's Head of House, here at Hogwarts, acts in loco parentis for all students. Why would I need permission from the guardians? I only need it from the four Heads of House. Surely, you'd know that."

Stunned incredulous, Marchbanks could only stare at the man before her. Her mind could not grasp the fallacy - logically, legally, morally and ethically - that Dumbledore seemed to believe. Eventually, she just started to slowly and slightly shake her head from side.

Once she finally realised trying to put logic to the illogical was an exercise in futility, she sighed and said, "Albus, you've just proven to me... beyond any shadow of a doubt... that you are, as Lord Potter claims we all are, a daft moron."

Both surprised and clearly offended by the remark, Dumbledore gave a small start before he huffed, "Griselda! Really―"

She barked, "Headmistress Marchbanks, you daft old fool!"

.

.

.

🎉The novel is available in PDF with more than 400 chapters, visit us in our Ko-Fi store🎉

🎉ko-fi.com/sosukeaizen123🎉