Ben woke to the soft crackling of fire and the faint scent of medicinal potions. His body ached, but it was the dull, lingering kind—nothing urgent.
He cracked an eye open, finding himself in the hospital wing. White curtains, fresh sheets, and the distant sound of Madam Pomfrey bustling about confirmed it.
"This is starting to become a pattern," he muttered, stirring.
"Ah, you're awake," came a familiar voice.
Ben turned his head. Dumbledore sat beside his bed, watching him with a serene expression.
Of course the old goat would be sitting here instead of actually looking for the Basilisk.
"I'm actually still unconscious, Headmaster," he said.
"Ah, humour—a sure sign of good health," said Dumbledore, smiling.
Ben pushed himself up with a grunt. "Reckon this is the part where I get detention?"
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "We don't give students detention for surviving a deadly Basilisk attack, Mr Brown."
Ben hesitated, knowing this was the right time to get exonerated. "There was still the sneaking into the place—"
Dumbledore hummed. "—a privilege I'm informed by Professor Flitwick you've earned with your bravery."
Wow. The old man's really bending over backwards. Only sounds like trouble to me.
"Is there something you want from me, Professor?" Ben asked, getting straight to the point.
But Dumbledore was anything but straight."Benedict, it is clear you are gifted—beyond your years, beyond many adult wizards," he said with a smile that all but shouted look at me, I'm a kind, caring grandpa who only means well.
"I'm not sure I'd go that far, Professor. But I sure am gifted," said Ben, running a hand through his hair.
"And humble, too," Dumbledore added, eyes twinkling again. "But with gifts, my boy, often come responsibilities—equally as heavy." His voice dipped serious.
Not Uncle Ben's lines! Come on, old man—come up with something original.
"What kind of responsibilities, Headmaster?" Ben asked, struggling to act oblivious.
"That, my boy, only time can tell. But I'm quite sure you'll do the right thing when the moment comes," Dumbledore said, with a look so full of trust Ben nearly caught it like the flu.
Old man, you really know how to manipulate little kids, don't you?
"Professor, have you found the Basilisk yet?" he asked.
"Not yet. Professors Snape and Lockhart are searching the castle," Dumbledore replied, with some regret. "Perhaps you can provide some insight to aid them?"
Ben gave a thoughtful look, then said, "Funny thing, Headmaster—none of my roosters died. Just petrified."
Dumbledore hummed. "An interesting observation."
"Thought a Basilisk's gaze was supposed to kill, no? Bit much of a coincidence that none of them looked it in the eye- Don't you think?" Ben leaned back against the pillows. "You wouldn't happen to know anything, would you, Headmaster?"
Dumbledore regarded him for a moment. "Many protections have been laid upon this castle by generations of Headmasters. Perhaps one of them ensures that none within its walls meet a Basilisk's eyes directly."
Ben narrowed his eyes. That was him admitting—without quite saying it.
Before he could press further, the doors to the hospital wing opened.
McGonagall entered, lips pressed in a firm line. Behind her, Lucius Malfoy stepped in, followed by Cornelius Fudge.
Ben exhaled sharply. "Brilliant. The Ministry finally decided to show up. Bit late, don't you think?"
Fudge ignored him, adjusting his bowler hat. "Albus, I'm afraid I must insist. Given the recent—unfortunate events—Hogwarts can hardly continue under your leadership."
Ben glanced at Dumbledore. His expression didn't change.
Lucius Malfoy smiled, slow and satisfied. "The Board of Governors has spoken. Two students disappearing in a single night? Unacceptable."
Ben's stomach twisted. He hadn't heard about that part. His mind raced—who?
Dumbledore gave him a quiet look, then turned to Malfoy. "If the Board wishes me to step down, I shall. However—help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it."
Ben clenched his jaw as he looked at Dumbledore's back—and Malfoy's smug expression. Of course. The great Albus Dumbledore, still content to leave everything in the hands of three—no, four—twelve-year-olds.
The doors swung open again.
This time, Hagrid stomped in, followed by two Aurors.
"Now, I told yeh—I ain't done nothin'!" Hagrid snapped, glaring at Fudge.
Fudge sighed. "Yes, yes, Hagrid. But with everything going on, we can't take chances. You'll be held for questioning."
Lucius smirked. "Can't have dangerous creatures running loose, after all."
Malfoy was shutting down the investigation by removing the people who might stop him.
Hagrid ignored them, looking straight at Dumbledore. "Professor, yeh know I didn't do this!"
Dumbledore gave him a small nod. "I do."
Hagrid hesitated, then exhaled heavily. "Righ'." He turned to leave—but paused at the door.
"Jus' one thing," he muttered. "If anyone wants ter find out what's really goin' on… they'd do well to follow the spiders."
Ben barely had time to process that before the doors swung shut behind them.
Silence settled over the room.
"Well," Lucius said, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve, "that's that, then."
Ben, half-lidded and tired, muttered, "Always knew Galleons had more pull than wands."
Malfoy's smile flickered, just for a moment, before he turned away. "Come along, Minister."
Dumbledore gave him a small nod. "Rest, Mr Brown. We will speak again soon." Then he turned and left.
And just like that, they were gone.
Ben let out a slow breath, his mind already spinning, piecing things together. He had a clearer picture of Dumbledore now. The old man wouldn't pass up a chance to train Harry—never mind if it put a few lives at risk. The greater good always came first.
The old man wasn't incompetent. If anything, he had a plan—safety nets, backup plays, probably a phoenix on standby. It wasn't negligence. Just the kind of calculated risk you take when you're convinced the world's better off with you pulling the strings.
Useful to know.
And, to be fair… he wasn't one to talk. He'd let the diary wander about for weeks now. Chalk one up for hypocrisy.
"That," he muttered, "was a bloody circus."
Madam Pomfrey bustled over, hands on her hips. "And that's quite enough excitement for you. You need rest!"
Ben held up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright."
He'd barely closed his eyes when the air shimmered.
Three figures materialised at the foot of his bed.
-To be Continued..
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