Note 01: Randolph is a character from the Quidditch World Cup game.
Pairings: None
Word Count: 969
Randolph Burrow was a sixth year Ravenclaw and a chaser on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. He was a half blood with a muggle father and a witch mother. His plan for the future was to become a professional dueler. Professor Flitwick had been helping him achieve that dream, so when the small professor had said Lockhart was a terrible dueler, Randolph had made the decision not to go to the upcoming club. He was currently pursuing a book on rare curses from the restricted section, and therefore didn't notice the Headmaster arrive behind him.
"Hem-hem," Dumbledore cleared his throat, causing Randolph to jump.
"Professor Dumbledore! I'm sorry. I didn't see you." "
That's quite alright, my boy. Filius told me you weren't going to the dueling club."
"No sir."
"I was wondering if I might borrow a few of your hairs and then convince you to 'disappear' for the duration of the club itself."
"Polyjuice potion sir?" Both Dumbledore and Randolph turned to Harry in surprise. He immediately turned bright red.
"Yes, as a matter of fact. We'll discuss how you know that latter Harry," Dumbledore said, tilting his face down to look over the top rim of his glasses.
"Yes sir," Harry said quietly. Dumbledore turned back to Randolph, expectantly.
"Of course sir, but do you mind if I ask why?"
"Not at all, my boy. Harry, here, will be attending as you, and I will be attending as him." Randolph looked confused.
"Whatever for, Professor?"
"I wish to see how Professor Snape treats Harry."
"If even some of the rumors are true, Professor, then very badly," Randolph said.
"What are the rumors?" Harry asked curiously.
"That he destroys your work, takes points for breathing to hard, or for not helping someone on the other side of the room, or for helping someone right next to you, and that he asks you questions only NEWT students should know just for an excuse to take points when you don't know the answer. Of course, those are only the most common ones." Dumbledore got paler with very rumor, but turned absolutely white when Harry confirmed them.
"He did all that in my first month here."
"Oh my. I'm so sorry, my boy," Dumbledore said.
"You didn't know Professor."
"I don't particularly think I wanted too. Come along Harry. I wish to see these incidents."
"This, Harry, is a pensive. It allows someone to view memories. One thinks of a memory, taps their head with a wand, and puts it in the pensive." As Dumbledore explained, he showed how it worked, adding a silvery strand to the bowl. "Now I'd like you to think of some of your potions classes, one at a time. Tell me when you have one ready." When Dumbledore had all the memories in the pensive he entered it.
"Mr. Potter, our new celebrity." Dumbledore watched the scene in horror. He kept his look of horror throughout the next eight memories, and exited the pensive, shaking.
"I am truly sorry, Harry. I had no idea it was this bad. That anyone, especially a teacher!" Dumbledore had to take a moment to calm himself slightly. "I assure you, he will be reigned in." Harry nodded. "You may leave now, Harry. Be here tomorrow before the club starts. We'll take the Polyjuice then."
"Yes sir," Harry said, before leaving. Dumbledore took several deep breaths and managed to stop shaking. He had one more thing to do to prepare for the dueling club tomorrow. Dumbledore stood and went to the fireplace, before flooing to Diagon Alley.
"Hem-hem," Dumbledore cleared his throat, causing the dozing clerk to jump. The edge of his mouth twitched slightly in amusement.
"Headmaster, sir! What can I get for you?" the clerk asked.
"I require two vials of unlocked Polyjuice potion," Dumbledore said. Unlocked meant that it hadn't been tied to a specific person yet. "An experiment of sorts," he said.
"Of course, sir. I've got some vials in the back. You'll have to fill these out." The clerk handed him two pieces of paper. They were identical forms for use of a restricted subject, in this case the Polyjuice potion, with two lines at the bottom, one for the person buying the potion, and one for the person selling it. Dumbledore filled them out as the clerk went into the back room to get the potions.
"That'll be three galleons for each potion and two sickles for each paper if you wish for us to file them for you. Otherwise you have to file them yourself by the end of the day," the clerk said.
"Yes, of course, thank you," Dumbledore said. He pulled a pouch out of one of his many pockets and began to go through it. "Let's see, oh. Only five galleons. Here you are. Sickles…here!" Dumbledore counted them. "Drat. Only twenty. I'm sure I have another, hold on. Ah ha!" Here we are. A pleasure doing business with you. Have a nice day."
"You too sir." After Dumbledore left, the clerk's curiosity got the better of him, and he looked at the two papers.
The first one said:
Person Using Polyjuice: Albus Dumbledore
Person Becoming: Harry Potter
Reason: To observe the reactions of Severus Snape at the Dueling Club held on the 17th.
Date of Use: Dec. 17th 1992
Date of Sale: Dec. 16th 1992
Place Sold: Smither's Potion Warehouse, Diagon Alley
The second said:
Person Using Polyjuice: Harry Potter
Person Becoming: Randolph Burrow
Reason: To attend the Dueling Club on the 17th while Albus Dumbledore is using Polyjuice to become him.
Date of Use: Dec. 17th 1992
Date of Sale: Dec. 16th 1992
Place Sold: Smither's Potion Warehouse, Diagon Alley
He grinned and created an extra copy of each. His cousin, Jacynthe, worked for the Daily Prophet. She'd love this.