Post by Animagus Maxima on May 13, 2009 7:42:45 GMT -6
Albus Dumbledore gave the slightest of sighs, hardly noticeable, as he looked over his steepled fingers at the latest pursuer of the role of teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. Desmond Niequist was a plump little man with a bulbous red nose, and could easily be mistaken for beardless Father Christmas. Dumbledore had no problems with the man himself – the process of searching, searching, and searching still for someone who’d last longer than a year in that position was getting a bit…tedious.
He concluded the interview with a brief, “You’ll hear from me in a week or so.”
“Very well, very well,” Desmond murmured, standing to his feet shakily, nervous at the mere thought of being in the same room as the man who took down Grindelwald. His red nose in the air, Niequist strode off towards the exit – and stumbled, crashing to the ground, and taking a stone bowl from Dumbledore’s desk with him.
A hiss escaped the wise wizard as he watched the pensieve crash to the ground before he could even reach for his wand. The stone had cracked in a thousand places immediately, strewing itself across the floor, with its pearly contents splattering in a neat puddle. Muttering apologies, Niequist shot to his feet, bowing towards Dumbledore.
“It’s quite alright,” he mumbled, strolling over and picking up a single pieces of the bowl, inspecting it. Even so, Niequist hurried out of the castle as if Grindelwald himself was on his trail. Dumbledore watched him as he left before turning his attention back to the pensieve. With a wave of his wand, the pieces flew back together, as if they’d never separated. The memories, though – those were years of his life that would never return.
It was a time of carefree innocence, of friendship, and discovering true love – even if your love refused to acknowledge it. The Marauders roamed free on the lawns, and those who would someday be called ‘Death Eaters’ sat in their common room. Ravenclaws studied, Hufflepuffs worked tirelessly, and a truly unlikely friendship flourished. It truly was heaven on earth. But now, as the times soaked through the pine floorboards, through each crack and crevice, Dumbledore left them to flow as they did.
Spilled memories were best left to flourish.[/SIZE]
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