Capricorn’s Submission for FanFiction Contest #1:

Characters: Albus Dumbledore And Filius Flitwick

Licorice Snaps

“Licorice snaps,” a high-pitched tone squealed off into the corners of Dumbledore’s office. It- the office itself- had long since Flitwick’s visit been empty of its former owner and his possessions, yet the faint scent of licorice snaps lingered on, the only sign that Albus had ever, in fact, been present within the room. Unfortunately, the comforting smell vanished quickly, as everything was being cleaned by Professor Flitwick, who had volunteered to rid the office of any sign of the late Dumbledore.

“Oh sir, things sure have gotten out of hand,” Flitwick muttered to no one in particular, although meaning for Dumbledore himself to hear. “Why, I do believe it was a whole year ago that we last talked.” He wandered over to a chair and sat upon it, thinking of the days when mere suggestions that Dumbledore had a weak side were abandoned upon simply seeing the man enter a room, commanding the attention of everyone near him.

“Even those days had to end though, didn’t they,” he stared around him at the sleeping portraits. Severus Snape, the man who would be assuming the position of Headmaster, wouldn’t be arriving for another hour or so. Regaining some of his former energy, Flitwick was quick to run across the room and grab an old scrapbook from its dusty hideaway. There, on the front page, stood a regal Dumbledore, his beard reflecting the light. A much younger Flitwick shared his limelight, though still shorter by far. Sighing with the burden of nostalgia that couldn’t be shared with a friend, the little wizard opened up to one of the first pages.

“Flitwick, it is a delight to see you again. How were the holidays for you,” Dumbledore asked as he helped his good colleague Filius Flitwick out of the carriage he had ridden to Hogwarts. The poor fellow had, in fact, a horrible time in France, but he wasn’t about to let on such a thing upon his return.

“It was marvelous Albus. Splendid, really. Everything you’d think France could be, and then some,” the short man forced a laugh. He looked at Albus and noticed this was not the same man he had said good-bye to three summers ago. Had the trip really been that hard for him to cope with, Flitwick asked himself as he hauled his bags to the room he’d stay in as the Charms Professor, or was something else bothering the usually cheerful man?

“Flitwick, I believe there are some matters I must discuss with you. In my office,” Dumbledore told his friend, his voice suddenly thick with seriousness.

“Is it about the war,” Flitwick asked, his voice quiet against the sound of the bustling teachers and house elves trying to move around him- some that were taller just pushing him out of the way to make their own paths clearer. Dumbledore looked down, the familiar glint in his eye well established, and smiled.

“No Filius, that discussion is one we shall have another day. Now, I believe it is time you knew the truth about my past,” the wise man exclaimed, surprisingly calm. Flitwick’s eyes widened, but he made no comment on the subject as he walked into the office of the Headmaster, his shoes squeaking loudly on the wooden floor.

Flitwick looked up from the book as the quickening sound of footsteps could be heard approaching. He scurried to the door and peered outside, only to see that he was staring in the legs of Professor Pomona Sprout.

“Hello, Filius. Someone has seen to it that the mandrakes have all been pulled up out of their pots,” she complained, “If you could just pass that along to our new Headmaster, I’ll be on my way.”

“Of course,” came the relieved reply. Pomona nodded her head, swiped her forehead with the back of her hand, and continued back to the green houses where the problem originated, muttering as she did so.

Once she had disappeared Flitwick let out the breath he had been holding since the woman snuck up on him and quickly wrote up a warning to the Headmaster. He traveled to the desk where Dumbledore had once sat, intending to rid it of anything related to Dumbledore, but found that he couldn’t bring himself to clean it. Shaking his head, he gravitated towards the scrapbook, which had been hidden beneath a chair when Pomona had come around, and opened up to one of the pages nearer to the end. It was a snapshot of Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, Albus, Filius, and Minerva McGonagall, taken by a student who was experimenting with muggle technology.

“Headmaster. Albus. What are we going to do,” questioned Professor McGonagall. Her hair was pinned neatly into a bun, but her eyes revealed that it had taken quite a while to do so, and that she wasn’t in her usual organized state of mind.

“Minerva, I believe it would be best that we continue with the sorting, and the rest of the year, as though nothing is different with Mr. Potter. This would include, of course, you leading the students in their sorting. I will be down in a moment,” Albus gestured to the clock behind him, which rang out the time every hour on the hour, and had just done so. Minerva pursed her lips together, as if debating something internally, and finally arose from her seat and walked swiftly out of the office. The old wizard stroked his beard thoughtfully, and proceeded to turn his attention towards Filius.

“Filius, I trust you added your bit to the protection obstacles for the stone,” he stated.

“Yes sir. About the boy though,” Filius began, but Albus cut him off.

“No Filius. Harry Potter must know nothing of his fate. He will lead a normal school year, make friends, and learn, just like everyone else. Are we clear,” Albus asked seriously, his eyes sparkled with light, even in the midst of the grave conversation.

“Of course, Albus. Is there anything else you would like me to do,” Filius offered.

“Keep him safe. Make sure he doesn’t get too close to discovering what is going on. I may be the Headmaster, but I don’t have eyes everywhere. Just keep a close watch on him, Filius.” The Charms professor nodded his head and exited the office, looking behind him briefly to see his colleague looking over a set of papers that looked oddly familiar.

As if on cue, a couple pieces of parchment slipped out from within the book, a result of Filius shifting the thing to make it easier to flip through the pages. A slight look sorrow, mixed with surprise, roamed over his face as he bent over to pick the three slips of paper up. Already aware of the information they held, he carefully tucked them back into the book, near the front. Despite the well-known fact that if Severus were to barge in at any moment, which he was allowed to do as he wished, Flitwick would have a lot to answer for, he couldn’t force himself to put the stash of memories away. Clutching it securely, he flipped closer to the front of the book again and stared at the picture of a mournful Sirius looking from Albus to a grave-marker, his mind swirling with snapshots of his own from a few days before.

“Albus, I just heard the news. James and Lily Potter, they were so happy just a few months ago,” Flitwick trailed off, fighting the urge to cry when everyone was counting on each other to be strong.

“Yes, Filius. I’m afraid it is true. However, other rumors have also proved themselves worthy of being truthful. Their son, little Harry, survived,” Albus replied, an undistinguishable expression on his face, which Filius knew better than to question.

“He’ll never know his mother or father, though. Lily, she was the best student in my class- ever since she first made a feather fly. And James, well, James shaped up around fifth year, but I heard he was talented in Defense. They should’ve survived, the two of them. They had the know-how, had the loyalty, had the will,” Filius shook his head to stop himself from continuing. He had been known to ramble on in a higher-than-normal tone when upset, and this was one of those times for sure.

“He will learn of his parent’s past in due time, I am sure. For now the boy will lead a life of no importance, a humble existence if you will, and we will hand over the rights to the extent of his knowledge to the little family he has left, for they have taken him under his wing until he is of age,” Albus replied calmly, yet with an underlying sense of authority that Filius knew better than to argue with.

“Yes, Albus. But it just doesn’t make sense, why shouldn’t he know the history behind his scar, and what he defeated,” Filius mumbled, more to himself than anyone else. Albus, however, responded to the comment.

“Because, Filius. If that were to happen, he would also know what he’s up against,” Filius raised his eyebrows in question, his face growing animated with hesitant curiosity.

“Albus, what do you mean? The dark lord is destroyed,” the short professor tried to explain what the wizarding world had been rejoicing.

“That is where you create a flaw, Filius. Voldemort,” Albus paid no attention when Flitwick twitched, “did not die. He was weakened, nearer to the point of death each second, but did not die. He vanished.” Flitwick’s eyes widened in understanding, as if someone had punched him in the stomach, all blood seemed to drain from his face.

“You don’t mean-“

“Yes, I’m afraid that is exactly what I mean.”

A cold wind shuffled through the room, causing Flitwick to retreat from his memories and back into the modern day. The sudden change in weather caused him to jump up, dropping the book in the process. Sighing, he picked it back up, noticing that yet another letter managed to slip through and fall swiftly to the floor. Thinking it was one of the ones that had lost its place before, he picked it up off-handedly and carefully tucked it away. Before he had a chance to turn the page, though, he noticed the unbroken seal of Hogwarts embedded on the parchment. Eager to see why an unopened letter would be found in his and Dumbledore’s scrapbook, Flitwick delicately turned the parchment over to find that it was, in fact, addressed to him.

“Filius Flitwick, should you ever find that I have gone and will not return, read this letter. Albus, you always did plan ahead,” commented Flitwick as he recited the handwritten note on the front of the paper. He took a sharp breath and unfolded the parchment.

Albus Dumbledore sat as his desk, his hands entwined in a manner that would suggest serious thinking. Severus had just left, after telling him the grave news that not much time was left before he finally departed from the living world, hoping to meet his sister after the many years without her smile. The familiar glint in his eye faded away, replaced with a mournful expression, as he took out a fresh article of parchment and dipped his quill into a small pot of ink.

Flitwick looked down at the letter and began reading it quietly.

Dear Filius,

I am afraid, colleague, that if you have found this letter I am gone forever, and will be unable to assist in the inevitable war to come. Before you receive incorrect information from any students or faculty member, I must clear the name of he who killed me. Severus Snape had no intention of performing the curse, I asked him to, for the consequences should he not have would have been much more dire.

Friend, Harry Potter is more knowledgeable than one would assume. What I have told you has also been passed onto him. Well, not all has been revealed to him, for I have found that my past is best kept to those who must know. If young Harry chooses to return to Hogwarts, do not inform him of this letter or my heritage, as they are distractions that may lead him astray as the road to war paves his fate.

Quite the poetic writer, I have found I am, perhaps I was Shakespeare in another life- such a fascinating aspect! But back to the topic at hand. As far as more personal notes go, I’d like you to know that as a colleague, but more importantly a friend, I have always valued your companionship. Please lead a merry life with those you cherish, and continue to guide the students who roam the hallways as they seek out their personal talents.

I cannot predict who will be the next Headmaster, and I don’t think Sybill is capable of that either, but I ask that you put your faith in him or her, as whoever receives the title will have a very unstable year ahead of them.

Once more, I have always treasured your friendship and admire your unfaltering devotion to the school. Help yourself to the licorice snaps on your way out, and please take this scrapbook with you, if it is something you’d like to keep.

Until we meet again,

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Headmaster of Hogwarts

Friend of Filius Flitwick, Charms Professor

“Filius. What are you doing in here, as I recall I am the Headmaster now,” Severus said scathingly as he barged into the office. Flitwick, startled by the sudden intrusion, muttered ‘reducio’ and stuffed the now-small scrapbook in a coat pocket while Snape made his way to the desk. “Are you done here?”

“Yes, Severus. I was, was just on my way out,” Flitwick mumbled, he could barely control his urge to yell, or squeak rather, at the man who had come in and taken over without a moment of grief for the late Headmaster.

Albus told me to put faith in you, the Charms professor thought repeatedly as he scurried out the door, slamming it to the best of his ability. He muttered the statement to himself all the way to his own office, where he took out the scrapbook and elegantly returned it to its original size. He took out the letter and read it again. And again. And again.

“That’s why it smelled of licorice snaps,” he whispered animatedly. Then, and only then, did the tears come freely.