I took a few steps forward and stopped at a respectful distance from the Headmaster's desk, maintaining an upright posture and a confident demeanor. I think I would continue to pretend until the end that I had nothing to do with any of this and generally didn't know what was going on here.
"Headmaster Dumbledore, Professor Snape," I said, inclining my head slightly in a sequential, polite greeting. My voice was steady. And I was even completely calm, no anger and no fear!
"Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore replied. His voice was warm, velvety, but there was steel in it. "Please, sit down. We're not going to interrogate you here, after all."
I didn't like that he was speaking to me in a fatherly manner, though thankfully he hadn't switched to something more informal. He gestured to the empty chair opposite the desk, which had apparently been prepared specifically for me. I nodded and took the seat, trying to appear neither too stiff nor too casual.
"To be honest," I began, carefully choosing an intonation of genuine bewilderment, "I don't quite understand why I was summoned here. As far as I know, I haven't broken any school rules. Also, Mr. Vance interrupted my sparring during the Dueling Club meeting, which, in my opinion, was… unnecessarily hasty."
Dumbledore listened attentively, his fingers stopping their tapping on some trinket lying on the desk.
"That is precisely the matter we intend to clarify, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall interjected, her voice sharp and utterly devoid of friendliness. "I know you are aware of my conversations with your classmates and others. During discussions with students from various years of Slytherin house, extremely troubling circumstances have emerged concerning you."
"Conversations conducted without my knowledge as Head of House," Snape added dryly, clearly addressing the Headmaster. Snape's words hung in the air as a heavy reproach. "I would appreciate it if such… investigations concerning my students were coordinated with me."
Dumbledore gently raised his hand, placating.
"Calmly, Severus. Minerva acted within her authority and, I believe, saw no need for additional coordination in this instance. Let's listen to the essence of the matter instead."
McGonagall nodded, turning back to me, but her gaze was directed somewhere into the space between me and Dumbledore, as if she were reading an invisible report.
"The essence, Mr. Malfoy, is that after the recent incident with the rooms, I deemed it necessary to ascertain the whole situation. Talking to the students, I received various, and often directly contradictory, information. Including proof of the veracity of those rumors about the room, as well as rumors about you personally, and about a certain 'Slytherin Council' — an informal association of Slytherin house students, which, according to some students, only those you personally deem worthy can join."
She paused, letting the words sink in. Then, with an intonation of utter indignation, she continued.
"Moreover, from several students who wished to remain anonymous, I heard claims that members of this 'Council' have repeatedly broken school rules. That they exerted pressure on others — psychological and physical. Intimidated and isolated them. Used their cohesion as a tool to achieve personal goals, disregarding the school charter and the well-being of their classmates. Which is extremely outrageous, even if only part of it is true! Isn't that so, Severus!?"
"That," Snape said sharply, as if cutting off, "sounds like the ravings of yet another offended student in the vein of Mr. Yarwood! Who has already been caught slandering Mr. Malfoy over a petty, personal grudge."
He slowly shifted his gaze to McGonagall, as if I weren't even there, and continued his monologue.
"I repeat. In three years of schooling, the student Arcturus Malfoy has never been caught in fights or serious disciplinary violations." Each of Snape's sentences was sharp, and he was clearly trying to defend me. "Moreover, given the exceptional conflict-proneness of the current third year, dating back to their very first days at school, such behavior on his part can be considered exemplary. I consider such insinuations baseless!"
I didn't know Snape could utter such long sentences without his characteristic speech interruptions. Apparently, when necessary, he could speak coherently and at length.
For a moment, silence fell. Interestingly, Dumbledore was watching us, not interfering much, listening to both sides. McGonagall, on the other hand, seemed to be seething with unspoken indignation.
Apparently, many factors were at play here: her not-so-positive attitude towards Slytherin house, as well as the fact that she simply wanted to restore order in the school, and while doing so, she wasn't aware of all the mess that was going on with us.
But the best defense is a good offense, so enough with the excuses.
"Professor McGonagall," I began, maintaining a respectful but firm tone, "I have the utmost respect for your desire to restore order in our house, but Professor Snape handles it perfectly well."
"Mr. Malfoy, such insolence!?" McGonagall was taken aback by my frankness, but the Headmaster gestured for me to continue.
"Allow me to note: all of this is just words. Anonymous words, contradicting each other. I myself am hearing about some 'Slytherin Council' for the first time in such a… sinister context. If a group of classmates sometimes gathers to discuss studies or just spend time together — is that a crime? It's not a secret society, after all, we're just friends. Perhaps there's some prejudice because of the color of my house, but aren't there groups of friends among Gryffindors or Hufflepuffs?"
"Friends who, according to witnesses, forced other students to carry out tasks?" McGonagall parried coldly. "Or 'offered' their help in exchange for a subordinate position. Is that also untrue, Mr. Malfoy?"
I feigned genuine shock on my face, even leaning back slightly in my chair. To say the professor was determined to catch me in a lie would be an understatement. After McGonagall's words, even Snape remained silent, apparently expecting me to say something.
"What? This is absurd! I… I can't even imagine who would do such a thing. And certainly not in my presence. Professor, I would be the first to stop such behavior! But…" I pretended to run my hand through my hair in confusion, "you understand that there are always a lot of rumors going around at school. Someone might have misunderstood something. Or simply decided to spite me out of envy."
"It's not just about Mr. Yarwood," McGonagall insisted. Her gaze sharpened even more. "Some students told me that they felt obligated to carry out tasks from older students — namely, you and your circle! This is terrible, Mr. Malfoy! How do you justify the fact that you have been gently but persistently guiding them towards certain decisions, ever since their first year!"
"Nonsense! Mr. Malfoy's guilt has not been proven," Snape began sharply. "You are pressuring a student from my house without even knowing if he is guilty!"
"Severus, Minerva, you are arguing in front of a student. It doesn't reflect well on you. Let's hear what Mr. Malfoy has to say. Speak, my boy."
Mordred… he'd decided to address me less formally after all. It was annoying.
"Guiding?" I raised my eyebrows, feigning slight indignation. "Headmaster Dumbledore, we might give advice as older peers. Explain why a particular club isn't popular or why one should stay away from the Forbidden Forest. That, as far as I know, is called mentoring, not coercion. And if someone perceived well-intentioned advice as pressure — I am genuinely sorry. But to blame me for it? Apparently, helping younger students is now frowned upon, Professor McGonagall?"
McGonagall, realizing she had overstepped and nearly raised her voice, had already calmed down and continued accusing me without raising her tone.
"Mr. Malfoy, you are making excuses, but aren't those just words?" she continued, not backing down. "What about the fights in hidden, remote areas of the castle? Where your… 'friends' pressured students not to tell me anything."
"Fights?" I shook my head, and notes of genuine, albeit restrained, indignation sounded in my voice. "Professor Snape just said, and you can check for yourself, that I have never been in a fight within the school walls. Never."
Snape took over, while the Headmaster listened, watching me intently.
"If such incidents occurred, they happened without his knowledge or participation. And certainly not at his direction. Minerva, you are not facing a Dark Lord, just a third-year student. What authority does he have to order anyone to attack others?"
I shifted my gaze to Dumbledore, seeking understanding.
"This is absurd! Based on anonymous rumors, I'm being accused of creating a criminal organization. All this time, I thought I was just trying to study well and maintain order in my house, as much as a student can. And now it turns out I'm practically the main disturber of the peace at Hogwarts."
"Oh, no one is talking about a 'criminal organization,'" Dumbledore intervened in a soft tone. His wise eyes looked at me inscrutably. "Don't be offended by Professor McGonagall. She is merely doing her duty, having found hints of systematic violations of school rules. The contradictory nature of the testimony merely indicates that the situation is ambiguous and we cannot accuse anyone."
"Systematic?" I allowed myself a bitter smile. "With all due respect, Headmaster, but Professor McGonagall, you teach us Transfiguration. Tell me honestly, have I ever disrupted discipline in your lessons? Damaged property? Been rude? Have I done anything to deserve a reputation as a bully or instigator? I am very hurt that based on someone's hints, such a… distorted image of me is being created. Apparently, someone has decided to tarnish my name and my family's name."
Oh yes, I decided to make it worse by adding a touch of a child's hurt feelings, someone who perceived the accusations as an insult to his own family.
McGonagall was momentarily taken aback. She was an honest and principled person, and my impeccable grades and behavior in her lessons were well known to her.
"Your behavior in lessons is impeccable, Mr. Malfoy," she was forced to admit. "But that doesn't rule out possible events outside them."
"Do those who lied to you have any proof of these fabricated deeds?" I asked, going on a slight offensive. "Not the words of children who might have gotten everything wrong, but something tangible? Anything at all?"
McGonagall was silent. She had no proof. At most, a couple of whiners or people weak at keeping secrets, who had provided information, sometimes even false, sometimes conversely, even downplayed…
"You see," I said quietly, turning to Dumbledore again. "I am being judged by rumors. Is that fair? Anyone can lie about someone else's actions to exonerate themselves."
Dumbledore took a deep breath. He looked at McGonagall, then at Snape, whose face remained stony, but his eyes read a silent "I told you so."
"Severus, Minerva," the Headmaster said quietly, but in a way that sounded like an order. "Allow Mr. Malfoy and me a moment alone."
Snape looked at me, clearly thinking about something, then nodded to the Headmaster and turned towards the exit, his cloak billowing behind him. McGonagall clearly wanted to object, but if the Headmaster insisted, it was better to leave. Silently, her lips pressed into a thin line, she rose and followed Snape, closing the door firmly behind her.
Now, in the vast office filled with countless instruments and artifacts, only the two of us remained. Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School, Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot, and possessor of a whole host of other titles, fixed upon me that same all-seeing, piercing gaze, from which, it seemed, no secret could be hidden. My calm suddenly seemed so fragile… like glass. The real battle was just beginning. And it began with these words:
"Would you care for a lemon drop?"
"What?" escaped me involuntarily. I had expected anything but this.
"A candied lemon drop. It's a Muggle sweet," he explained, and little crow's feet gathered at the corners of his eyes. "Personally, I'm very fond of them."
Was this a trap? Any self-insert would think, but I wasn't a self-insert in the full sense of the word. A simple truth serum… or an additive that slows brain function and loosens the tongue, disguised as a treat? I doubted it.
Dumbledore wouldn't act so crudely, and certainly not with everyone. Not even with me, if he wanted to get rid of me. Besides, the ring on the middle finger of my right hand, set with a ruby, would warn me of such things.
Literally, with any dangerous additive and not-so-dangerous ones: from any magical and non-mechanical poison to potions and anything filled with magic, it would simply give off an alarm glow. This was, I recalled, a gift from my parents for my twelfth birthday.
And I was already a decent Occlumens and was on guard, in case of mild mental pressure from eating something. In general, the body of a wizard of my generation had an innate heightened defense against subtle magical influences. Even a hypothetical love potion would affect me much more weakly; at most, a strong attraction, and it would dissipate faster.
"Thank you, Professor," I nodded, accepting the offer. "I would be happy to try one, because, to be honest, I'm quite fond of sweets."
I put the candy in my mouth. The sharp, invigorating sourness, instantly replaced by sweetness and the crunch of the sugar crust, reminded me that I hadn't eaten Muggle sweets in a long time. The taste was… surprisingly very pleasant and refreshing. I even allowed myself a sincere smile, not hiding my slight surprise.
"A very interesting and pleasant taste. Although Muggles, of course, can't make anything truly incredible, like the divine truffle soufflé I tried at a cafe in magical France, the variety of their sweets is truly astonishing."
Dumbledore's eyes lit up with genuine, almost childlike joy. And he also must have noted my relatively favorable attitude towards Muggles.
"Finally!" he exclaimed, taking another slice for himself. "Someone shares my little weakness. Most find them too sour or refuse them outright. I'm glad you liked them, my boy."
"My boy." The first sign… oh no! I didn't want to be like Harry! But I just nodded, letting the candy dissolve on my tongue.
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, and his gaze became thoughtful, but no less penetrating. Meanwhile, I reached for another piece of the sweet.
And then he abruptly began.
"Each of us has the right to make mistakes. Especially in our youth. Much of what Professor McGonagall said…" he waved his hand, as if brushing something away, "is an exaggeration by ill-wishers or the product of an overly vivid imagination. And the rest… school pranks, attempts at self-affirmation, and gathering comrades around oneself. All of this is quite… in the spirit of the wonderful school years you are experiencing. Ah, how I wish I could return to my youth…"
He, of course, understood everything and even accepted that it was inevitable at school. But even what McGonagall said didn't reflect the full depth of the rabbit hole, so in any case, I hadn't suffered much. And he was certainly reading me like an open book but wasn't rushing to pass judgment. Perhaps he would offer… a deal? Or simply wanted to confirm something?
I decided to lift the veil a little, understanding that the Headmaster didn't seem to be planning any harsh measures, if, of course, I didn't continue to deny everything. I would repent a little, to play on his desire to see me not as a second Tom Riddle, but as someone… like Sirius. An heir to a noble house who could be turned to his side.
I lowered my eyes, feigning embarrassment and annoyance.
"You… you're right, Professor. I… perhaps I got too carried away. It's just…" I sighed, running my fingers through my hair, as if searching for words. "In Slytherin, it's always like that: either you're alone, or in a small, closed group of friends that fights with everyone else. Almost a house of loners, like the Ravenclaws."
Here Dumbledore gently, and again with the kindest intonation, interjected into my monologue.
"Quite in the spirit of your house. Cunning and calculation are undoubtedly valuable qualities if directed along the right path." There was a brief pause, and he added, seemingly sincerely, even with some sadness: "But they always lead to loneliness…"