The Protector

There Are Signs

"I think your book is bullshit."

"You only say that because you didn't win."

We knocked on the Headmaster's door.

"Nuh-uh."

"Come in," his voice came through the door. We opened it. Dumbledore was sitting at his desk. He looked up to us, "Good. You two got my message."

"Yes Professor," I nodded. Harry and I made our way up the stairs.

"What did you need?"

"How have your classes been?" He asked both of us.

"Pretty good," I nodded.

"Same," Harry agreed.

"Professor Slughorn is excited to have you two brilliant minds in his class."

"He overestimates my abilities, sir," Harry chuckled.

"Are you sure?" Dumbledore chuckled.

"Yes."

"How about your social lives? Your activities outside of classes?"

"Huh?" Harry and I asked.

"For instance, Harry," he leaned forwards. "I've noticed you and Ms. Granger have been spending a lot of time together. I was wondering-"

I started to laugh while Harry explained himself, "No! No, we're just good friends. That's it. Bridget, will you stop laughing?"

I took a deep breath, "You have nothing to worry about Professor," I nodded. "Ms. Granger has someone else on her mind."

"What about you and Mr. Malfoy?" He asked.

I completely stopped laughing. It's like the mood changed. I answered honestly, "Not good. I've been meaning to talk to him about it, but he always seems to be ignoring me and I've been a bit busy."

"Interesting," he nodded. "Tell me how that turns out. But enough jabbering. I bet you're wondering why I've asked to see you."

"I figured that when I first got the message."

Dumbledore stood up and walked over to a cool cabinet filled with glass viles or very thin and very small vases. "These are the answers. These are memories. Memories about one special person named Voldemort. Also known as Tom Riddle."

"Those are a lot of memories, Professor," I told him.

He spun the tower and picked out a certain vile. "This is a certain memory. This is the memory of when I first met him. I want you to see it, Harry."

Harry grabbed the Pensieve and put the memory inside. He stuck his head in and I knew he was gone. Dumbledore grabbed my arm, "I needed to talk with you alone, Bridget."

Harry was then gone mentally, exploring the world before him. Dumbledore guided me towards his stairwell, "Would you possibly be able to explain why you and Mr. Malfoy aren't doing so well?"

"I don't know," I shrugged. "But I sure know what Harry thinks."

"What does he think?"

I took a breath, "He thinks...Harry thinks that...Draco's a Death Eater."

Dumbledore took a couple more steps forward, like he was contemplating something.

"What?" I asked. He looked down to me. I didn't even have to hear the words come out of his mouth, "You can't be serious, either?"

"Things are going on, Bridget," Dumbledore sighed. "Things you have yet to understand. But if anything like that comes up, come to me immediately."