When you can't write for one story, write another. At least, that's what my muse says. Here's something new to keep my brain fresh (because mapping out a 7 book story is rather exhausting, wouldn't you know) while my fem!Harry story is still being turned over in my mind.

This is a SS/OC story with a slow build. It's mostly a story about finding your place in life and deals very much with the theme of depression. It should have all the usual disclaimers, though I won't be listing them all here because I feel as if that sometimes ruins a good plot twist.

See you at the end.

Ineffable: something too great or intangible to be described in words.

"She liked the word ineffable because it meant a feeling so big or vast that it could not be expressed in words. And yet, because it could not be expressed in words, people had invented a word to express it, and that made Liesl feel hopeful, somehow." ― Lauren Oliver, Liesl & Po

He's kicking you out. Of course he is. You always knew you weren't Hogwarts material. When was the last time you got an Acceptable or better on an assignment? Third Year Charms? It was only a matter of time. Just hold on to your dignity. Keep your face blank, Sintica. Blank. Blank. Blank. What's that funny look on his face for? Is that pity or—amusement?

Albus stared at the girl sitting in the armchair across from his desk. She was quietly staring back and could not possibly know that he was using Legilimency on her—merely skimming the surface of her thoughts. Her Head of House would have been proud of the emptiness in her expression. Sintica Selwyn had all of the pureblood features of her ancient family (grey eyes, dark hair, plus a wide, angled face) and those features shared not one drop of her inner fears.

While looking at her, second-guessing himself was imminent. Would this really be the girl who could be the turning point in the war? She was small and thin, less than mediocre in her studies, and was sorely lacking in interpersonal skills. Not to mention, she was troubled.

But these days, who wasn't?

"Miss Selwyn. Thank you for appeasing an old man's whims on such short notice," the Headmaster said at last. They had been staring at each other for several moments.

She nodded her head politely.

"I know that you are more than likely enjoying your last few days at Hogwarts now that your exams are finished—" there was a flicker of something in the girl's gaze, gone in a flash, "—so trust that I have not brought you here for anything less than the upmost importance. Most simply, I have a request to make of you."

The girl across from him looked blatantly confused now, the slip of her empty-mask leaving her looking every bit as young as her fourteen years of age. He was tempted to peer into her mind and hear her thoughts, but did not. He stroked his beard and leaned back.

"What are your plans for the summer, Miss Selwyn?"

"The orphanage, sir."

"You have no plans to visit your family? I believe they sent you a request last summer—"

"No sir. Just the orphanage."

"I understand." He opened the drawer to his desk where he had placed a series of parchments just as the girl entered the room, precisely so that they might be later taken out of the drawer for her benefit. He spread them in front of her and gestured for her to look when it was clear that she didn't plan to take the liberty on her own.

"They're the results from my exams," she said, several times her own age and with far more resignation that should be physically possible.

"They are. A Troll in Herbology as well as Transfiguration and History of Magic. A Dreadful in Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts—"

She looked down at her lap. "Yes professor. I know my grades are…unsatisfactory."

"Are you unhappy here at Hogwarts?"

"Not necessarily," she said. The Headmaster looked at her closely.

"Not necessarily?"

"I think I'm unhappy in general, Headmaster. Hogwarts doesn't have anything to do with it."

His heart ached for this young girl. "A few professors have noticed your unhappiness, namely, your Head of House."

"Professor Snape?" She asked, looking up with surprise. Her eyes held an unnamable glossiness at the mention of his name, and any doubts that the Headmaster had about this girl being the proper one for the job were put firmly from his mind. "Professor Snape thinks I'm unhappy?"

"He knows you are, child. He's an observant man." The Headmaster lowered his voice. "But it does not take much extrapolation when you find a young girl standing on the Astronomy Tower in the dead of winter, willing herself to jump off of it."

Sintica's entire body pulled back (when had she began leaning towards him? Just a moment ago?), her face blanching with horror. At last, her shoulders drooped. "He promised he wouldn't tell anyone."

"Professor Snape is bound by the rules of his position to inform me if any student comes to harm—by another's hand or by their own. He had no choice in the matter."

"Of course," she mumbled, clenching her trembling hands together.

"Professor Snape is just one of the many professors here at Hogwarts who want to see that you are happy and to see that you succeed, Miss Selwyn. You have had a hard life. I would not pretend to know your situation nor to understand it—that would be very much remiss on my part, and an insult to your personal strength. However, I believe I have a suggestion that might remedy your marks and perhaps your unhappiness."

The girl was intrigued. He could see it on her face even as she reverted to her blank expression, but beneath any interest was a layer of suspicion. The Headmaster didn't need to dip into her mind to sense it. He lamented that there were some in the world who had been so mistreated that they were suspicious even of kindness.

"Would you like to hear my proposal?" He asked at last. The girl nodded slowly. "Over the summer, I would like you to stay at a home belonging to a friend of mine. The friend is no longer able to run the home, so it has fallen very much into disrepair. Throughout the summer months, I want you to clean the home from top to bottom. If you succeed in this, you will be guaranteed admission into Hogwarts for your fifth year of schooling. Otherwise, Miss Selwyn, I'm afraid that you would not pass on to the next academic year."

She blinked. "You want me to clean an old house?"

"Precisely."

"What's the catch?"

"Ah, the catch!" He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk and allowing his lilac robes to pool there. "There is always a catch, isn't there? And here it is: during your summer, you will also listen to another proposal of mine, the likes of which is not nearly so simple to explain over a single meeting in a single evening. It is an assignment of extra worth that you would complete for your fifth year and perhaps the future years to come, if it is agreeable to you."

"So the house is a red herring?"

"Of sorts, but it really does need a good scrubbing."

"I clean this house and you'll give me an assignment that will take the whole next year and maybe years after, is that right? Do I have to accept the assignment?"

"Not at all! That's the particular beauty behind this catch. Without your forced agreement, essentially, you will spend the summer cleaning and listening to an old man tell stories, but let me warn you Miss Selwyn, the assignment I have to offer you would not be easy if you were to accept. However, it would be more than worth it."

There was a long moment of silence.

"Might I have time to think about it, professor?" She asked. For the second time, he looked into her light eyes and allowed himself to sense her thoughts—turmoil, yes, but hope, and curiosity, and fear.

"Of course. When the train leaves to return your fellow classmates to their homes for the summer, I have hopes that you will instead be Apparating with me to the home of my colleague and friend. I will need an answer before then. Will the week suffice?"

The girl nodded, looking distant. Thoughtful.

"I'll be eagerly awaiting your answer, my child. Any questions you have—please feel free to seek me out and I will answer them."

#

Midnight found the Headmaster looking out the window of his office at the Scottish landscape. He was wearing a scarlet bed robe with a long matching nightcap that Irma Pince had made for his birthday three years prior; it was as long as his beard. Tonight there was a moon and stars, though he could feel the threat of rain coming. Or was it really rain?

His Potions Master had left just an hour before, still fuming about the escape of Sirius Black. He had looked aged ten years by his own rage and bitterness. The young wizard had seemed more agitated as of late (which was truly saying something), and he refused to confide in the older man. Dumbledore could not help but think the worst—Severus felt what was coming in the same way Albus did, and it was not simply rain.

Something tapped at the window so suddenly that the Headmaster startled. Staring back at him were two yellow eyes the size of Sickles. The owl carried with it a simple message:

Headmaster:

I agree.

S. Selwyn

"You should be in bed, my child," he whispered to the letter, smiling. Looking back at the mountains, he felt lighter. Maybe that electricity in the air was just the coming rainstorm after all. He blew out the last candles, left the note on his desk, and made his way to bed at last.

No matter what was coming, Albus would be prepared. He always was.

I can promise you nothing-no steady updates or anything of the sort, but trust that I won't abandon this story. Is there anyone remotely interested?