Harry Potter: A Tale of Revenge

"Right." He pointed at the stack of letters on his desk. "I'll just get through these and then you're off. I've also got a meeting soon, so I'm off soon too."

Macavity hooted again in acknowledgement and took a scoop of water from a bowl by his perch.

Harry sat by the desk, picked up the first letter, sliced it open, and read.

Another invitation to something he couldn't go to. He placed it in-front of a large stack of parchments on the side of his desk.

He sighed and sliced open the next one.

He grimaced. A tear-stained letter begging him for assistance in something he could do nothing about. He placed this one in-front of another, thankfully much smaller, stack of parchments next to the first.

The next letter heralded from Gringotts. He grinned and sliced it open. He read.

Ragnok had identified three potential sites for Slytherin Hall and enclosed details. Brilliant. The girls would love this. He scanned the three sites. One place in Cumbria with a large parcel of land, another in East Anglia with a smaller parcel, and the last one… He goggled. The last one was a small island in the Shetlands.

Huh.

He put them to one side and picked up the next two letters. He smirked. Two sets of identical green inked addresses stared back at him, penned with lots of extraneous curls and flourishes. One penned to Lord Slytherin and the second to Harry Potter.

They were from Alex.

He ripped them open and read.

His smirk grew.

Alex's occasional letters to Lord Slytherin were getting a lot more insightful, and her more frequent letters to Harry Potter were getting a lot more friendly.

He knew Luna had reached out to the Black heiress recently so that could well be the reason. That girl was scarily smart and seemed to preempt his intentions in a way that even Daphne didn't come close to. He looked over to where Macavity now nibbled on owl treats. He'd be quite freaked out if it weren't so damn useful.

He waded through several more inane letters before hitting the last one. He stared at the lone envelope. He recognised that handwriting. He'd seen it before, often in the margins of transfiguration essays in comments like, "Well done, Tom - I hope you keep this focus on your academic work."

It wasn't the first time he'd received an owl from the man. Nevertheless, he waved his wand over the letter for several minutes. The owl office that stored his mail for pickup was supposed to check for undesirable magic, but with someone like the headmaster he took no chances.

He eventually satisfied himself and sliced the letter open. He read.

Dear Lord Slytherin, Head of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Slytherin,

I am writing to inform you of an opportunity regarding a child in your guardianship, Miss Hermione Granger. Miss Granger's parents have expressed an interest in their child receiving healing training, an interest which was first expressed by Miss Granger herself.

Normally such training is not started until a student has reached their third year when they begin their electives, however, after having spoken with Miss Granger's teachers and inspecting her classwork thus far produced, I feel it could be acceptable to extend the unusual and privileged possibility of fast tracking Miss Granger and allowing her to begin classes with Healer Pomfrey immediately.

These classes are small, containing no more than three or four students across all year groups and can be expected to increase a student's workload by no less than ten hours a week. Such positions also give extra credits and are strong indicators for prefect and head girl positions.

As I've previously hinted, this would be the first time Hogwarts has extended such an offer and there are, therefore, certain issues that I would need to discuss with you personally before I would feel one hundred percent comfortable in fully committing myself to such an offer. I'd like to extend to you an open invitation to meet with me and Miss Granger in my office any time in the next few weeks between the hours of four and six pm.

I look forward to meeting you,

Yours respectfully,

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Order of Merlin (first class), Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards.

Harry lowered the letter to his side, stared off into nothing, and bit his lower lip. So, this is what got Hermione worked up this morning. He reread the letter for a second time. He really didn't want to meet with Dumbledore. But on the other hand, getting Hermione any kind of healer training would be very desirable. Once Voldemort had his method of immortality, he'd decided there was little point in learning something like healing.

He put the letter down and rubbed his temples.

He really didn't want to meet Dumbledore.

Hermione knew he really didn't want to. That was why she'd been so annoyed towards the head table this morning.

He folded his hands and tapped his foot.

Once Harry was in that office there was no chance he was getting out without a long talk with the headmaster about all sorts of things. The man would try to wring every last piece of information he could out of him, and then draw many accurate conclusions even from what Harry did not tell him.

But then again… having even a partly trained healer on call would be more than invaluable, and Hermione could be counted on to go over and above the call of duty, so it was quite likely she'd be far better than could be expected in no time at all.

Argh.

He rubbed his face.

Damn that man.

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