Harry Potter: Dragon Whisperer

Manipulating Elements

4:50pm

Thursday, 11 August 1995

Ministry of Magic, London, England

.

A glance at the clock had him nodding. Yes, just before the Ministry workers signed off for the day; the perfect time.

Standing, he walked around his desk but just before he reached the fireplace and the mantle where he kept the pot of floo powder, he glanced across at the elaborate perch that stood near the window. He missed seeing the brilliant red and gold plumage that ordinarily lived there, but, alas, another burning day had come and gone and the baby bird that now resided there wasn't as nice to look at.

Then, after grabbing up a handful of green powder, he clicked his fingers, magicking fire in place.

Throwing in the powder turned the flames green and he stepped in amongst them.

"The Ministry of Magic!"

Instantly, the green of the flames intensified before he was whisked away on a whirlwind tour of hundreds of other fireplaces – all too fast for the eye to make out any details.

"Headmaster Dumbledore!"

He turned at the sound of his name, a smile already on his lips.

"Ah, Miss Rutledge, how nice to see you again," he greeted.

She smiled shyly, her head dipping, but not before he noticed the rounding of her eyes. It was always so wonderful to see how amazed and awed people were of him, especially when he remembered their names. Really, how could he not remember them? After all, he had one of the best minds in the world and had taught himself to remember names and faces decades ago. Not to mention that he'd taught or been the Headmaster for the majority of the British wizarding population for close to the last century.

"If you will excuse me, I have an appointment that I mustn't be late for," he said.

Instantly, she bustled out of his way, mumbling something that he took no notice of.

"How are you, Headmaster?"

"Nice to see you, Chief Warlock."

"Headmaster Dumbledore!"

The greetings came thick and fast the further into the Ministry that he strode. And every greeting that he received, he returned, more often than not adding in the person's name as well. There was a reason that he chose this particular time: seeing so many, walking among those that were once children that looked up to him, reminded them of his achievements and how important a place he held not just in magical society, but also in their hearts.

Finally, after traversing the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic and then an elevator ride, he reached the very door that he'd been aiming for: the sub-Department for the Regulation and Monitoring of the Dragons of Great Britain.

The concept of knocking wasn't even entertained, after all, he was the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and every Department was expected to accommodate every one of his wishes.

At first glance, he thought that he'd come too late, that the Department was empty but a scrape, the sound of a chair moving slightly in a side office had him focussing that direction.

He cleared his throat and waited. When no one had come out to greet him after a minute, he frowned. That was not how it was supposed to be! A tiny bell on the counter before him caught his attention and he contemplated it. It was decidedly ... muggle and he considered ignoring it and using magic to sound a bell but that wouldn't do for the image that he was trying to convey nor the way that he wanted the conversation to go.