Looking for Trouble

Chapter 7: Back to the Present

"So that was what happened," Terry finishes.

Dumbledore leans forward, clasping his hands together. "Yes," he says seriously. "That certainly is quite a situation," and Terry cringes, but then Dumbledore continues. "So lucky that it all turned out so nicely. So many times, you think a story is going to end happily and then there's some horrific duel and someone ends up near death in the hospital wing before everything gets resolved. So refreshing that that did not happen in this particular case."

Terry stares hard at Dumbledore, wondering if the inevitable loss of his marbles has finally occurred. "So I'm not in trouble?"

"Well, you've certainly done nothing wrong," Dumbledore says.

"I haven't?" Terry asks, amazed.

"Not at all. Those broom cupboards ought to be used for something worthwhile every now and then." Terry continues to gape and Dumbledore smiles at him. "Besides," he says, and now his eyes have a sort of far-away look, "Young love is always sweetest when it's a little bit forbidden."

Then Dumbledore is silent and Terry doesn't know what to say. At last he clears his throat. "So I'm free to go, sir?"

Dumbledore claps his hands and smiles again, all traces of far-away look gone. "Oh no. You'll have to be punished, of course."

"Punished? But you've just said I didn't do anything wrong!"

"Well, yes," Dumbledore allows. "But I've got to do something or Filch will never let me hear the end of it." He looks hard at Terry for a moment, then his lips twitch. "I think—yes, that will be perfect. Tomorrow evening then, Mr. Boot, you and Mr. Malfoy will be cleaning the trophy room, supervised by myself."

"But Professor—" Terry begins to protest, but Dumbledore holds up a hand.

"Supervised by myself. Of course, I am getting rather on in years. So I may find myself accidentally enjoying a nap in my office instead."

Terry frowns. "But I still don't see why—" Dumbledore holds up another hand. But why would he make them clean, if he's said they did nothing wrong? It doesn't make sense.

"I will expect every trophy to be spotless, regardless of where I am," Dumbledore says. "Though," he continues, "these eyes aren't what they used to be either."

Terry gapes at him for approximately the six-thousandth time, starting to put it all together.

"So are you satisfied, Mr. Boot?" Dumbledore asks, and Terry thinks he detects a slight twinkle in his eye. "As they say, let the punishment fit the crime."

And Terry, thinking of Draco pouting and soaking wet and covered in bubbles, thinks Dumbledore may know what he's doing after all.

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