DOORWAYS || MARAUDERS ERA

ϟ3: CONFRONTATIONSϟ

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Rhea looked at her former Headmaster as he shifted in his seat within the portrait and beamed at her. His brilliant blue eyes twinkled behind his crescent shaped glasses.

"You have grown taller, my dear. Care to have an Acid Pop?"

She all but stared at him. Noting her blank look, Dumbledore remarked, "It's in the drawer, dear. I'm afraid Severus rather dislikes them. I, on the other hand, find them marvellous."

Rhea walked towards the table without taking her eyes off the portrait. Sinking down in the chair which was so often occupied by Harry, she reached out for an Acid Pop. Beaming brightly at the Acid Pop in her hand, Dumbledore exclaimed, "The chocolates have stayed untouched ever since Harry and I returned with the fake hocrux. I've been trying to get Severus to taste them, but, alas, he remains adamant. However, between you and me, I have a nasty suspicion he has been eating the pink coloured ones from Bertie Bott's every flavour beans!"

He looked at her brightly, as though he were a kid talking about toffees and nuts. As though there wasn't a war threatening to break out in Hogwarts.

"The Life and Lies of Dumbledore," she said quietly.

Dumbledore's smile faded slightly. "Ah, Rita Skeeter. Not unlike Bertha Jorkins, even as a student. She was extremely fortunate to have met dear old Bathilda as a human, and not, as Nagini."

Rhea laughed darkly. "You've always been one for irrelevant conversations, Professor."

A silence followed. "I know what you must be feeling right now—"

At this she laughed madly. "That was the same thing you told Harry when he was grieving for Sirius! You might have understood then, Dumbledore, but you have absolutely no idea what Harry, or Ron, or Hermione, or I, for that matter feel now! You gave us a topic, without any instructions on how to go about the rest of the project. But guess what? This isn't some mere school project, Professor! Could giving us more information hurt? I understand why you never told us about the Hallows— our obsession with them might have been deadly—but you could have told us about the sword! All this while, Professor, you have been several steps ahead of us, and do you know what it feels like?! It feels like we are puppets in a show, with a fixed story line! It's as though you are some sort of a God, who has complete control over our lives!"

She stopped, breathing heavily, having poured out, albeit a quarter, of their frustrations during the past months. Dumbledore gave a long sigh and looked at her sorrowfully. Rhea looked away, unable to handle him looking so tired and so sad.

"That was the only way," he said, while Rhea scoffed and continued looking at anything but the dead headmaster. "You see, even if I told you about the sword, you would only gain access to it under conditions of need and valour. Besides," and Rhea finally looked up at him, "it belongs to Hogwarts. One may never know when he needs Gryffindor's Sword. Severus was the one who brought you the Sword," he added.