//------------------------------// // Chapter 28 // Story: On the Implications of Parallel Worlds // by computerneek //------------------------------// “Lemon drop.” Professor McGonagall sighed internally as she stepped onto the rotating staircase to Dumbledore’s office.  She’d gotten up this morning to find that ten points had been awarded, in two different awards of five each, to a student named ‘Silversong’ during the night...  and while the Castle was able to figure out who that was, the awards had bounced- and come to her- because it couldn’t figure out which house it was supposed to award them to. When she then asked the magic of the castle which house Silversong was sorted into, it claimed the student- it sounded to her like a female name, but it also sounded Equestrian, and she could never tell with those- was unsorted. So she’d spent much of her day- when not teaching classes of fourth or seventh years, of course- running down the full class roster, searching for the name. She hadn’t found it.  Silversong had never been sorted, never officially admitted to the school. Yet, when she queried the Castle spellwork, Silversong had been attending classes since term started, had a class schedule…  and, perhaps most importantly, grades.  Good grades, at that- she seemed to be suffering on the practical side, suggesting she was a Raeth…  but she was performing well with everything else, almost as if she was a Ravenclaw.  That the girl was able to do that well without having a regular place to sleep- it seemed she was sleeping on the floor or something- was a promise of such talent that Hogwarts could not afford to squabble it away.  The girl was too good to be allowed to fail by virtue of not being sorted. Unfortunately, there was only one way to fix that.  And, this time around, she wasn’t the Headmaster. So, she needed to talk to Professor Dumbledore…  in person, because the Ward network was too far removed from reality.  It was too easy to miss things like importance. She did tap into the Ward network anyways, as she approached Dumbledore’s office door.  The Castle’s Marauder’s Map function- which she had named after the student-made item that used it the most- informed her he was in his office.  “Dumbledore,” she sent him.  “We need to talk.” Dumbledore sighed.  “Come in.”  It wasn’t the first time she’d done that, by a long shot. She pushed the door open, and let herself in. “So,” Dumbledore began.  “What is it this time?” “Silversong,” she answered simply. “Silversong?” Dumbledore asked, surprised.  “She was mighty helpful this morning.  Did something happen?” “She received points,” she nodded. “And…?” Dumbledore began, confused.  “She’s in Slytherin, is she not?” “She’s unsorted.” Dumbledore froze.  “...  Unsorted?  She was mighty helpful in the aftermath of the brawl in the Slytherin common room this morning.  That’s why I…  gave her…  points.”  He took a deep breath.  “You mean we missed her?” She nodded.  “That’s what it looks like…  but according to the Castle, she hasn’t just been floating.  She’s got grades- and good grades, at that.  Even though she doesn’t have a bed, or anywhere to store her trunk.”  She sighed.  “If she even has one.  The Castle wasn’t able to find it.” Dumbledore winced.  “And everything else checks out?” She nodded again.  “She’s in the Book, and is recorded as having accepted her position.  It would seem she missed a few classes a few weeks back, but that was all covered by a medical excuse.” Dumbledore put his head in his hands.  “Could it be that she got lost on the first day, and ended up sitting with the Slytherins?” She shook her head.  “She wouldn’t have had a schedule if she did that.  When they made the schedules, Princess Twilight’s teams worked off of the lists of students sorted to each house.  It shouldn’t have been possible for her to have been missed in the sorting and still gotten a schedule, but…”  She shrugged.  “I looked at her schedule- and it looks like it was designed as if she were a Slytherin.” “But she’s unsorted,” Dumbledore muttered. She nodded. He sighed.  “How…  How is she performing?” “At this rate?” Professor McGonagall shrugged.  “She’s showing difficulty with her wand- suggests she might be a Raeth- but she’s just shy of the Honor Roll.” Dumbledore blinked.  “We’re going to have to hold a Late Sorting Ceremony, won’t we?”  He sighed, putting his head in his hands.  “I can’t even remember when we last had one of those.” “Not surprised,” one of the pictures hanging on the wall stated simply.  “It was three hundred and sixty-two years ago.” Dumbledore looked up.  “...  Right.  Well.  At least it’s not completely unprecedented, is it?”  He grinned at the picture.  “So, first off…  I’m going to need to summon her in here, aren’t I?  To explain what’s going on, and get her temporary bedding overnight?” “Yep, that’s what I recall,” the picture nodded. “Alright then,” Dumbledore sighed, reaching for a fresh piece of parchment. “D-Silversong?” Diamond asked, sounding surprised, as she entered the common room. Draco, sprawled out across one of the couches in his female form, looked up at her.  “Hi.” “I- I thought-?” He shrugged.  “Does Draco ever do something like this?” Diamond blinked.  “Now that I think of it…  No, I don’t think he does.  Is that why…?” He nodded.  “Well, that and Crabbe and Goyle won’t follow me around, since they can’t find Draco.” Diamond wrinkled her nose at the names.  “Yeah, that’d be a huge plus, wouldn’t it?” “Yep,” he stated.  “Only way I could think of to lose them for more than five minutes on a weekend.” “Even though you’re then going to be…?” Diamond gestured towards him.  “For basically all day?” He nodded.  “Yeah…  I’ll make do.” “And you’re going to need to change your clothes at some point, too.” He blushed, and looked away from her for a few seconds.  Then he looked back at her.  “Gee, thanks for reminding me,” he complained.  “But yeah.  Small price.”  He shrugged.  “I’ve even got my wand this time- not that I’ve been able to ‘stabilize’ my magic enough to use it, but who’s counting?” “...  Okay.”  Diamond picked a chair that faced his couch.  “That actually makes me wonder:  Do you know what your unique talent is?” He raised an eyebrow.  “My…?” “Unique talent,” Diamond repeated.  “That’s what we call it here.  You might remember me telling Flexible what mine is?” He blinked.  “Something about being bossy?” Diamond snorted.  “Right, yeah, I guess.  Technically, my talent is simply leadership- but it comes out in that I have a very easy time getting people to do what I want them to.  Any ideas what yours might be?” He shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I mean…  During the first week, my classes were all fairly easy, then…”  He gestured down at himself.  “Lyra did her thing.  Ever since then, I haven’t been able to use my wand…  but everything else has become a cake walk.” Diamond’s eyebrows shot up.  “A cake walk?  Like…”  She scowled.  “Have you, perchance, had any difficulty with anything you tried to do after Lyra’s Papa Tango finished?” “Uh, yeah?  My wand doesn’t work.” She winced.  “Aside from that.” He rolled his eyes…  then paused to think.  “...No,” he eventually muttered.  “I don’t think I have.”  He scowled.  “Well, unless you count ditching Crabbe and Goyle.”  A sound like a gong echoed suddenly from upstairs.  “Speaking of which, it would seem they’re awake.”  He looked up in time to see Crabbe slide back down the girl’s staircase, now a slide.  He’d gotten up extra early explicitly so he could have the common room to himself, even if for just a few minutes…  and had taken that chance to transform. After, of course, making sure he had it to himself. Diamond rolled her eyes.  “Yeah, of course they are.  But anyways, doesn’t that kinda suggest something with the magic?” He blinked.  “You mean, you think my…  ‘talent’ might be to be good at everything?” Diamond shrugged.  “I mean, it could be.  If so, that’s a very powerful talent to have.” “Then why would I still have trouble doing the magic thing…?” “Just because you’re automatically good at it doesn’t mean you know how to do it,” Diamond smiled. He blinked.  “Yeah, I suppose.  I’ll just have to ask Hermione for more instruction sometime…”  He scowled.  “Which Draco would never do.” She wrinkled her nose.  “Yeah, unless he doesn’t mind losing a little face, he never would do that, would he?”  Then she shrugged.  “But you would do that no problemo, right?” He winced.  “Yeah…  but then she’d know.” She grinned.  “She’s a student instructor,” she said.  “She’s already sworn to keep her students’ secrets, except in as much as they endanger the castle.” He raised an eyebrow.  “Really?” She nodded.  “Yep!  I’m a student instructor myself- Potions.  And that oath is one of the first things they required us to do in the Student Instructor Crash Course at the beginning of the year.  So don’t worry, she won’t be telling anyone.”  She shrugged.  “And if you ask her to, I’m sure she’ll even keep it from her co-instructor, Bonbon.” “You haven’t told-?” he asked, blinking. “Nope,” she answered.  “It’s our secret right now.  I mean, I can tell her if you want me to, but…” “No, no, I’m good,” he said hurriedly.  “I just…  thought you would have.” Diamond gasped theatrically.  “And betrayed your trust?  How could I?” Later, at breakfast, something happened. Draco had been expecting to spend the day as Silversong, then find some empty room or passage in which to retake his form as Draco shortly before bed time. Until, of course, he got the letter.  An owl floated down to him at breakfast…  and hooted at him. “What-?” he began. Diamond leaned in to whisper in his ear.  “Yes, we can understand them.  Roll with it.” He took a deep breath, and let it out again.  The owl had only called his name- his female name, Silversong.  It hooted again. “Hoo.”  There you are, Silversong.  Where have you been? “Ahh,” he muttered, rubbing one hand on his hair. “Hoo.”  No matter.  It took two weeks, but I found you.  Got a message from the Headmaster…  I think it’s important.  The owl offered the letter in its beak to him. “Ahh…  Thank you.”  He accepted the letter, and started unfolding it. “Hoo.”  You’re welcome.  It might be a good idea to send him an answer? “Just a sec…” Draco muttered, scanning the missive. Dear Silversong, Please come to my office at your earliest opportunity.  Any of the school professors will be able to guide you. Sincerely, Albus Dumbledore Hogwarts Headmaster He let out a sigh.  “Well…  Yeah, I’d say.  And if this was two weeks ago…”  He scowled, then turned.  “Diamond, do you have a quill I could borrow?”  Then he blinked.  “Unless…”  He looked at the owl. “Hoo.”  No, he cannot understand me. “Dang,” he muttered. Diamond slipped a small quill out of her pocket…  No, it wasn’t a quill.  It was a strange, plastic cylinder, and it had a button on one end.  “What’s it say?” she asked. “Dumbledore wants me to visit him in his office…  two weeks ago.”  He shrugged.  “After the match today ought to be a decent time.  Unless…?”  He looked at the owl. It shook its head.  “Hoo.”  Unlike you, he’s easy to find.  Sixty seconds, tops.  It then gestured towards the staff table, where Professor Dumbledore was eating his morning meal. Draco chuckled, turning back to Diamond.  “So…” She held up the plastic thing.  “It’s called a ‘pen’,” she informed him.  “Muggle alternative to a quill.  It doesn’t need to be dipped in ink- instead, when you want to use it, you click the button to make the tip appear…  and when you’re done, click it again to protect the tip.”  She demonstrated, showing the tip while she clicked the button a couple times. “Oh… kay,” he muttered, accepting it, and clicked the button slowly.  “That’s…  strange.” “Just beware when you write with it- it’s a specific type of pen called a ‘ballpoint pen’, meaning there won’t be any of the scratch you’d get from a quill.  It’ll slide much more smoothly over the page.” “Alright,” he muttered, and put the ‘pen’ to the page.  Diamond was right, it did write a lot easier than a quill did. Understood.  I’ll be up shortly after the match today. He clicked the pen, and gave it back to Diamond, who pocketed it.  “That is…  strange.  But I like it.”  He grinned, glancing at the neat lines it had made on the parchment, before he refolded the letter and offered it back to the owl.  “Alright, thank you.  Want a snack while you’re here?” The owl almost seemed to grin.  “Hoo.”  No, but thank you.  Dumbledore isn’t a very patient man, these days.  It took the letter, and took to the air again, heading straight for the staff table. “Uh-oh,” Diamond muttered. He nodded.  “Uh-oh indeed.”