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Dianthus Stories	By : icewomin Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female Views: 3134 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Anything you
recognize belongs to someone else, namely, JK Rowling. Specifically, elements of the HP universe,
characters from same. Sadly, I have no
hope of publishing this story outside the fan fiction base, although I hope you
enjoy the plot and the original characters I�ve created. Feel free to give me critical feedback,
including flames and harsh criticism. I
may delete it afterward, so as to reduce my personal embarrassment, but I do
promise to read it and incorporate it if I feel it improves the story.

*****

This is Chapter
Twenty Two. Smut begins in Chapter
Twenty Six, so if you�re only looking for that, feel free to skip ahead. Be warned that you may be confused about some
of the stuff in those later chapters if you don�t stick it out.

*****

Chapter Twenty Two
� Van Winkle

After spending
what seemed like all night in the common room, the roommates finally decided to
call it quits. Dianthus hadn�t quite
finished everything, but she felt she�d gotten a good start on each assignment. Late as she got to bed, she still set the
alarm for a bit earlier than usual, and when it sounded at the crack of dawn,
she rose groggily and dashed off a letter to her granddad.

After posting the
note, she rushed back to Ravenclaw tower to see if she could get a bit more
done on her Arithmancy. By the time her
roommates came down the stairs, yawning and stretching, she had finished the
most difficult portion of the homework, and was feeling extremely smug about
having been so industrious. �Shall we go
to breakfast, then?� she said brightly, ignoring the glares her friends shot at
her.

�Did you owl your
granddad?� growled Erin.

�Yes, and I�m
almost done with Arithmancy.�

�Oh, good, you�ll
let me take a look, right?� Melanie said, around a huge yawn.

�Of course.�

�Let�s go, then,
so I can look at it while we eat.�

Dianthus had just
sat down when Professor McGonagall approached their table, looking daggers at
Erin, Melanie, and Martine. �Miss
Brandywine,� she said, �the Headmaster would like to see you in his office.�

�It�ll be about
your potion, then, Di, you�d better hoof it,� said Erin,
excitedly.

�I�ll leave my bag
here, then,� said Dianthus, scrambling out of her chair.

She had to trot to
catch up with Professor McGonagall, who was already cutting a wide swath through
the river of students now arriving for breakfast. Once out of the great hall, Professor
McGonagall made directly for Dumbledore�s office, with Dianthus struggling
vainly to keep up with her. McGonagall
said nothing, and Dianthus was grateful � she was entirely too excited for idle
conversation � not that she would have expected it from her stern
Transfiguration teacher.

The stone
gargoyles had already sprung away from the entrance to the Head�s office when
Dianthus puffed up to the door, and she immediately stepped between them. It was only when she was riding up the moving
staircase that she caught a glimpse of McGonagall�s face � noticed that it bore
a grave expression � and felt the first cold finger of fear slither down her
back.

She didn�t have to
knock on the door to Dumbledore�s office:
he was waiting for her in the entrance.
�Ah, Miss Brandywine,� he said quietly.
�Please join me. I�m afraid I
have some bad news, my dear, bad news indeed.�
He led her over the threshold with an arm around her shoulder.

�Professor
Dumbledore, is � is it my potion?� Dianthus asked in a quavering voice.

�I�m afraid it is
worse than that, Miss Brandywine,� the old man said sadly. His blue eyes were not twinkling as they had
been on her previous visit.

�What is it, then,
Professor?� she whispered, feeling a tingle in her arms that she suspected was
the first sign of a full-fledged panic.
She knew what he was going to tell her.
GranGrandpa?� Dumbledore
nodded. �He�s not�he�s not��

�He is still
alive, but very ill. I think he would
have preferred I not tell you, but��

Dianthus felt
faint. Dumbledore helped herthe the same
chair she�d sat in before, and she collapsed into it. He pulled a chair from the edge of the room
and sat next to her. �What do you mean,
very ill?� she finally choked out.

�He has Van
Winkle�s disease,� said Dumbledore heavily.
�He�s in the final stages. I am
sorry.�

Dianthus
gasped. She had heard of Van Winkle�s,
of course, but she�d never known anyone who�d had it. Caused by a malfunction in the brain, it
usually began disguised as overwork or lack of sleep. The affected person began waking a little
later and going to bed a little earlier each day, unable to keep their eyes
open, until finally they simply didn�t wake up.
It was dreadfully difficult to diagnose until its later stages. She knew that most wizards who had it took a
strong version of the Draught of Death rather than go into the final coma. She was suddenly furious at him for keeping
this from her.

�Why didn�t he
tell me?� she yelled, jumping out of the chair to pace the room. She was remembering how he�d looked at
Christmas. She thought he�d just been
tired � he must have known even then what was happening.

�He wanted you to
finish school,� Dumbledore replied, standing as well. �He thought he�d have more time, but it
doesn�t appear that he will. I believe
he has only a few weeks, before the last sleep overtakes him. He disagrees.
I called you in here so that you could floo home to see him.�

Dianthus felt
close to hysteria. Some distant part of
her brain screamed for her to maintain control.
I should have pressed him more!
she shrieked to herself. Her chest felt
too tight, her face too hot. I should have made him tell me, she
cursed silently.

As if reading her
thoughts, Dumbledore placed a restraining hand on her arm and said, calmly, �He
would not have told you in any case. I
have known your grandfather since he was a young boy, and Peregrin Brandywine
is a proud, headstrong man. You cannot
rstarstand what it meant to him when you gained admittance here, and he has
followed your progress with potion experimentation closely.�

�I know,� Dianthus
said, her voice sounding strangely dull to her ears. �But he should have told me.�

�Don�t judge him
too harshly,� Dumbledore said sadly. �He
had only your best interests at heart.�
His words, though, rang hollow with Dianthus.

Dumbledore led her
to his fireplace, and Dianthus had a sudden thought as she grabbed a pinch of
floo powder from a small jar he held out to her. �Please tell Professor Snape to owl me the
results of the test.� Dumbledore
nodded. After tossing the floo powder
into the flame, Dianthus stepped into its cool center and said, �Maedulas
Farm,� so dully that for a second she worried the floo network hadn�t
understood her. Then she felt the
familiar spin that told her she was on her way, and closed her eyes.

She fell out of
the fireplace in the library on the second floor and spent a few seconds
beating the ash that dusted her robes.
She thought idly that perhaps she should change, but she wanted to find
her grandfather. Even though the
rational part of her knew Dumbledore was telling the truth, a very tiny piece
of her heart thought that perhaps the old man had been mistaken. Perhaps she would find her grandfather
sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and reading The Daily Prophet. He would
be surprised to see her, certainly, but would reassure her that everything was
going to be alright. She pounded
downstairs and skidded to a halt in the kitchen doorway.

It wasn�t her
grandfather who sat at the table � it was Aster, her head buried in a school
book, her ancient tutor Rhumias Sullivan sitting next to her. Aster jumped as Dianthus came charging into
the kitchen. �What are you doing here?�
she shrieked, jumping up immediately, looking as if she�d seen a ghost.

�Grandpa,�
Dianthus gasped. �Where is he?�

Aster�s
countenance changed in an instant.
�Still in bed,� she said shortly.
She turned to her tutor and barked, �I�ll see you tomorrow, Rhumias.� The old man struggled to his feet, bowed
creakily, and tottered out the back door without a word. She turned back to Dianthus and sneered,
�Finally can tear yourself away from your precious potion, huh, Dianthus?�

Dianthus took a
step toward her sister, angered and bewildered by this display of
hostility. With some effort, she
controlled her temper. �I�m going to see
Grandpa,� she said, coolly. �And then
maybe you�d like to tell me what the fuck you�re on about.� She took the stairs two at a time and raced
to her grandfather�s bedroom at the end of the landing. The shades were wide open, but he lay in the
bed, sound asleep, blankets pulled up to his shors.
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