╔══════════════╗
CHAPTER TWELVE
his invasive gaze
╚══════════════╝

PACING BACK AND FORTH IN FRONT of the large doors made Edmund's stomach feel queasy. He repeated Lottie's idiotic plan in his mind as he tried to work up the courage to follow through with it, but his mind always came up with what ifs right before he knocked on the doors. Every part of him wanted to run and spill everything to Hermione and find out what she would recommend that he do, but he knows that's foolish of him to want. He wants to trust the girl, but with everything in him he just couldn't seem to trust her with his ability's secrets. He picked at his gloves as he weighed his decisions: do what Lottie suggested, or not and have no idea what to do next. Turning towards the door, Edmund took a deep breath and knocked before he could once more talk himself out of the decision. He felt extremely anxious as he waited for someone to tell him he could come in, but no one said anything. After waiting a few more minutes, he knocked again, this time louder.

"I don't believe knocking will do much," a voice behind him said, "Seeing as I am currently standing behind you and not in my office."

Edmund whipped around to see the person who he thought was on the other side of the door,
"Professor Dumbledore."

"Mr. Carmichael," he stated. His beard was long and tied in a knot near his chest, his knowing and powerful air surrounding him made Edmund gulp and his head feel funny.

With his hands clasped comfortably in front of him, he looked at Edmund — a prompting look in his eyes as he asked kindly, "Are we just going to stare at each other for the rest of the night in the hall, or shall we take a seat in my office?"

"Oh," he choked out, feeling nervous as they spoke. "Yes, yeah, let's go."

Dumbledore smiled sideways and passed Edmund, unlocking his door and heading in, "Splendid! I have the most wonderful singing candies from Romania that just shipped in last night that I've been desperately wanting to try."

As they walked in, Dumbledore kept rambling about the new and rare candies, but Edmund was trying to form what he was going to say in his mind instead of listening to the old wizard. As soon as he was inside his office and realized there was no backing out, he wished he had ran for the hills instead.

"Serenades?"

The word broke Edmund out of the trance he got himself stuck in. Unconsciously, the two wizards sat down in their respected seats; Dumbledore behind the desk and him opposite, and he was staring at him.

Edmund coughed out an awkward reply, "W-what?"

"Serenades," he repeated, motioning to the bowl of yellow colored sweets on his desk. "Take one, I know I am."

Dumbledore popped one in his mouth and waited for Edmund to take one. Out of courtesy, he reached forward to grab onto the yellow sweet, critically analyzed it, and then placed it in his mouth. As soon as the melon flavor touched his tongue, a light melody started to play faintly in his ears. It twinkled on for a bit as he chewed but as soon as he swallowed the candy, it became silent again.

"Fascinating, isn't it? What witches and wizards can do to things as simple as a little candy?" Dumbledore rhetorically asked with a chuckle. "Now, would you like to explain why you wanted to speak with me? I do find it curious that you came at all, seeing as you've never sought out my help before this moment."

Edmund's mind felt heavy in his head, and his palms started to sweat making the expensive leather gloves stick to his skin. While they sat in the stale silence, he continued to try to came up with a way to begin describing a possible plan. He couldn't be too obvious, and he couldn't out himself as a seer, so he had to be extremely careful. Rubbing his hands together, he started with something simple, "I've been thinking about the tournament a lot."

"As have I," he airily responded, popping another candy into his mouth, "It is something many students have been thinking about, especially students your age. It is a lot of money to be won."

"No, no, I won't be putting my name in. I have no use for the money."

"I see. You are pretty well taken care of in that sense, if my assumptions are correct."

Edmund nodded ironically, trying to stay on the point. "I - um - I've been thinking about it a lot because I have a really bad feeling about it."

The look on Dumbledore's face told him to go on, so he did.

"I think something really bad is going to happen to the student who is selected for Hogwarts."

His grey brows scrunched up behind his moon shaped glasses, "Why would you say so?"

Edmund locked eyes with his silvery ones, and then felt in that very moment that Dumbledore seemed to know every single one of his thoughts and every single one he would ever have in the future. The old man's gaze was invasive and made him very uncomfortable, like he was trying to make him show him his secrets; he wanted to leave now.

With a stronger, more shielded voice, Edmund said, "I just have a bad feeling."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and sighed, pondering on his thoughts. His bony fingers tapped the arms of his seat, filling the silence with the steady rhythm. After about ten seconds, Dumbledore grasped his hands in front of him once more and spoke again.

"Are you trying to stop the tournament from happening?"

"I know that's not possible, trust me, I've checked," he commented with a sigh, "I am just trying to find a way to prevent a student from entering their name, or making sure they don't get picked."

"How do you know the student you are speaking about will get picked?"

His frustration of beating around the bush made him impatient, "I just know that they will be, and I have to prevent that from happening. I don't trust the tournament, and I don't want them to get hurt. How can I make it so he can't get picked?"

Dumbledore nodded and looked at the boy. "Well, unfortunately there is not way to prevent the goblet of fire from choosing a certain student. I am assuming you are talking about the Diggory boy?"

Cedric's name made Edmund pause and panic at the same time. He sat still as he could and tried not to give anything away. How did he know?

"You mentioned it was a boy you are trying to protect and I see you two have been spending a lot of time together since the beginning of the term; I can only assume you would believe he would be picked," Dumbledore answered for him before he could ask.

Edmund kept his mouth shut to avoid spilling anything else. Afraid of letting his secret slip, he avoided looking down at his hands, and instead kept switching his gaze from around the room to the headmaster's face. Dumbledore appeared to be thinking, and twirled his beard around his finger in deep thought — and waited a moment before he said anything.

"The goblet picks whoever is most worthy, but, if someone were to enter the tournament for a more worthy reason, then — to my knowledge — I don't see a reason why that person would not be selected instead."

Suddenly, all of the weight of Dumbledore's statement hit him all at once. It was like a slap to the face. He hadn't thought about that, if he was being perfectly honest with himself, the thought hadn't once crossed his mind. He must've been silent for longer than he thought as  the possibilities racked his brain since Dumbledore leaned forward a little too close, making Edmund lean back in his seat.

"Do you understand what I'm saying, Mr. Carmichael?"

He took his time saying each word, and Edmund digested every bit of it slowly. Reconnecting his eyes with Dumbledore's, he nodded slowly to show he understood. Then, in a blink of an eye, he acted like the conversation before didn't even happen. He relaxed his shoulders, hummed, and then started to eat another piece of candy.

"So, now that we have that settled out, is there anything else you would like to talk about?" his voice light and smooth again.

The change made Edmund have something he could only describe as something similar to whiplash. His eyes squinted and his mouth pulled into a frown, he shook his head, "No, I don't think so."

"Wonderful," he smiled, making Edmund uncomfortable, "Then, I believe it is almost curfew, and you should be heading off to bed, now. Don't you think?"

Before he knew it, he was rushed out of Dumbledore's office and now walking the almost completely empty corridors. The way he shoved him out of his office made Edmund nervous — did he find out more than he wanted him to?

Back in the Slytherin common room, Tomen sat alone, beads of sweat along his brow as he tried to lift a stack of hefty books off his lap and onto the table in front of him. His breathing was hard as he put all of his strength into trying to get the books off his lap, but his arms failed him every time. Far too stubborn to call for someone to help him, but too weak to actually complete the task. He put all of his energy into pushing himself around the school earlier that day, so at the end of the night, his muscles were too strained to do anything else. When the door to the common room swung open, he dropped his hands by his side and composed himself as quick as he possibly could.

A very concentrated Edmund entered the room, his eyes trained on the floor with his eyebrows scrunched, he started to make his way towards the dorm rooms before Tomen called out to him. "Oi, knob head!"

Edmund's head whipped his way as he stopped in place, surprised there was actually someone else in the room. Tomen gave him a look as Edmund spoke up, walking over towards his brother while rubbing his forehead, "Sorry, I didn't see you there."

"Clearly," he scoffed, "Almost walked right on past me like I'm invisible or something."

"I've just had a lot on my mind," he sighed, seemingly not bothered by Tomen's tone, and dropping down onto the couch in front of the fireplace. The look on his brothers face made Tomen frown. He tried to be understanding, so, he wheeled himself over towards his brother and sat in front of him.

"Did you settle what we talked about?" Tomen asked with a much softer tone.

Edmund responded while looking up, "Yes, I did, and I—" he froze once he scanned his face, "Why are you so sweaty?"

"It's hot in here," he motioned to the fireplace dismissively, "What did Dumbledore say?"

Edmund rubbed the back of his neck, "He said there is no way for me to stop Cedric from putting his name in. And the goblet will pick whoever is most worthy regardless."

"So, shit we already knew. Great, now he's probably on your case about how you knew something bad was going to happen. Did he know who you were talking about?"

"Yes, he figured it out really early. But that's not the weird part," Edmund said, "He acted really strangely, like he already knew everything I was going to say and already had a solution."

That caught Tomen's attention, "He gave you a solution?"

Edmund looked like he was avoiding his eyes. He was hiding something from him.

"Spit it out," Tomen demanded, his legs shifting uncomfortably under the heavy books' weight. He didn't like the fact the Edmund was hesitating to tell him something, it made his heart tug in different directions and his anxiety to go through the roof. The only thing he showed on his face was impatience. "Are you just not going to tell me?"

"Just know this, everything is going to be okay. His plan is the last thing I want to do, but if I can't convince Cedric to not put his name in tomorrow, then I'll have to do it. You'll find out what Dumbledore said within the next couple of days," Edmund then pushed himself up and started walking towards his room.

Tomen was left there sputtering, extremely confused, "Wha-what, hold up, stop right there!"

Edmund didn't stop, but instead disappeared around the corner. Tomen called after him again and sighed in frustration once he didn't return. That is not how he imagined the conversation would go.

"That emotional bastard," he muttered as he looked down at the books in his lap. Anger rising in his chest, he frowned at them bitterly and shoved them off his lap, sending them all clattering to the floor. "Yeah, fuck you, too."