The Burning Pen

A New Beginning
by Ruth Solomon

The story content is adult in nature and can contain graphic sex and violence.  Those under the age of 18 are asked to leave this site immediately.  You are not welcome here.  The author is not responsible for those under-aged who view these works.

CHAPTER 55

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 55 ~ Close Encounters

Rod made it back to Slytherin house without running into Roland. When he entered the common room, several of his housemates were there, Muriel and her friends among them. He still sported the shiner under his eye, though it had faded somewhat.

“Made it back from St. Mungo’s I see,” Muriel said to him as the other witches cackled.

Rod stopped, scowling at her.

”What?” he asked.

Muriel gave him a nasty little smirk.

”We heard that Gryffindor’s boyfriend broke one of your ribs and damaged your spleen, and you had to go to St. Mungo’s to get fixed up,” she said, her smile like a snarl.

”You can’t go about letting Gryffindors kick your ass, Rod. You make Slytherin house look bad,” a blonde Slytherin wizard called out to him.

“With you lot, Slytherin house already looks as bad as it can,” Rod muttered, heading for his room.

Scorpius Malfoy looked after the wizard, then shook his head, returning to his game of wizarding chess.

”What a loser,” he said, taking his opponent’s pawn.

Rod entered his room and carefully put away all his new clothes, fingering his dress robes appreciatively. Well, he would at least look nice at the dance. Until he got out on the dance floor most likely. But he was supposed to make sure Rose had a nice time and he didn’t want to fail at it, so he’d do his best to learn to dance.

Rod spent the rest of the morning in the pensieve, practicing his dodges, feints and strikes as Professor Snape instructed him. He didn’t know when Roland would strike again. The Slytherin hoped he’d make a better showing this time. The Professor was more skilled than Roland and he managed to keep away from him most of the time, so maybe he’d be able to handle the big Gryffindor when he came at him again.

Maybe.

At twelve, he headed to the Great Hall for lunch. He saw Rose, Hugo and Roland seated at the Gryffindor table. Roland scowled at him blackly as Hugo and Rose waved at him. Hugo stood up.

”We’ll meet you at five,” Hugo mouthed at Rod, holding up five fingers a few times until he was sure the wizard got it. Then Hugo put one hand on his belly and one in the air as if clasping a witch’s hand and rocked back and forth as if dancing. Rose pulled him into his chair.

”You’re so stupid,” she hissed at her grinning brother.

“I’m just trying to put him in the right state of mind, sis,” Hugo replied, pulling dishes toward him and piling up his plate.

Hugo inherited Ron’s bottomless stomach, and Rose watched him chow down shaking her head slowly.

”Chew Hugo! You’re going to choke to death one day,” she chided as the young wizard inhaled his food at an alarming rate.

”I am chewing,” he shot back in a garbled voice.

His mouth was full of chicken.

Rose just sighed and focused on eating her own lunch. Suddenly a high voice sounded next to her.

”Rose, are you really going to the Christmas dance with Odd Rod?” Angela Gibbons, a sixth-year witch with brown hair and round brown eyes asked her. Several other Gryffindor students looked at Rose with interest.

”I plan to, yes,” Rose said.

“Did he and Roland fight over you?” the witch continued, “I heard they did. I heard Roland kicked the shit out of him.”

Roland, who was within hearing distance, smiled smugly.

”They had an . . . altercation,” Rose replied archly, “But I’m still going with Rod. I have a right to go to the dance with who I choose.”

Angela blinked at her.

”But why would you choose to go with Rod? I mean, I know he saved you, but you don’t have to pay for that for the rest of your life. Roland is so much better-looking than Rod, and by the way he kicked his ass, more manly too,” the witch said.

Rose scowled at her.

”I don’t think suddenly attacking someone who doesn’t expect it is manly,” she said pointedly, “It’s something only brutes do if you ask me.”

Roland scowled at this and stood up, walking over to Rose.

”Rod attacked me first,” he said to the witch.

”Only because you pushed me. He didn’t like that,” the witch said, looking up at Rod.

”And neither did I,” Hugo piped in, looking tough.

Roland looked at the young wizard for a second, then dismissed him, looking back at Rose.

”I didn’t want you to get hurt,” Roland said, “And I was angry. I didn’t mean to push you so hard, Rose.”

”But you did push me, Roland. And you had no right to be angry. Rod didn’t do anything to you. You’re just a bully,” the witch snapped at him, angry now.

Roland scowled.

”I’m not a bully, Rose. You’re a Gryffindor witch. You should be going to the ball with a Gryffindor wizard, not some half-assed Slytherin who can’t even defend himself,” he shot back at her.

Now, if Roland had hoped to get through to the witch, he just failed miserably and only succeeded in bringing her “Hermione gene” to the fore.

In her younger years, Hermione used to get into terrible rows with Ron because he would try to tell her what she could do, who she should and shouldn’t talk to, and things of that nature. Hermione had hated that.

Rose was no different.

“Who do you think you are, Roland?” Rose said to him, standing up now, her brown eyes flashing dangerously. Everyone in the Great Hall fell silent and looked over at the two Gryffindors.

“You can’t tell me who to go to the ball with! You have no right! And I tell you something else, you big bullying oaf, even if Rod did back out, I wouldn’t go with you. I’d . . . I’d rather go alone!” she shouted at him.

Roland turned bright red as the witch grabbed a treacle tart and stormed out of the Great Hall.

Then everyone looked at Rod, including Roland. Rod, who had just bitten into a doughnut and had powder around his mouth, just looked back at everyone for a moment, then at Roland, whose face was contorted.

Rose had cut him off for good, and it was all Rod’s fault.

He was going to pay for that. If he did take Rose to the dance, he’d have bruises all over him. How would Miss Turncoat like that?

Roland really wasn’t a bad sort and for the most part conducted himself like a proper Gryffindor. But when it came to Rose Weasley, he seemed to lose all his good sense. Adolescence is a hard row to hoe even in best case scenarios, and poor Roland was knee-deep in the furrows of it. He couldn’t even see that he had brought this on himself and was using Rod as a scapegoat for his frustration. He just couldn’t accept that he wanted a witch that didn’t want him back.

What made it worse was that Rod wasn’t anything special as far as Roland could see. Yeah, he saved Rose but that was one act of note in seven years. He was a shit-shoveler and yard worker. Even his own housemates didn’t like him. How much more of a loser could he be?

Now it was just sour grapes for the young wizard. He couldn’t take Rose to the dance even if he made Rod back off. So he decided to get revenge against Rod and show Rose what a real loser she threw him over for.

Rod could see the hatred on Roland’s face as he looked at him and sighed inwardly.

Rose had not only told the wizard off, but pissed him off. And who was going to pay for that?

Rod Dolmer Dormers.

Shit.

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Roland lingered around the Great Hall, waiting for Rod to leave. Several of his housemates were watching for staff members. A few students from other houses were hanging about as well, not wanting to miss this ass-kicking.

Rod emerged from the Great Hall and turned for the dungeons.

”Hey Dormers,” came a familiar growl.

Rod turned, his belly tightening as Roland stood scowling at him.

”Time to finish what we started,” the wizard said, starting to walk toward the Slytherin.

Rod told himself to relax, be prepared. Remember what the Professor had shown him. Keep away. Keep from grappling. Watch for opportunities to go on the offensive that wouldn’t tangle them up.

Suddenly, the doors to the Great Hall opened and the Headmaster emerged. His eyes fell on Rod.

”Ah, Mr. Dormers. Just the wizard I wanted to see. Come with me to my office,” the wizard said, oblivious to what was going on.

Roland stopped, frowning at the Headmaster, then giving Rod a look that clearly said, “You lucked up this time.”

He turned and took the stairs, the other disappointed students leaving as well.

Rod fell in step with the Headmaster, who looked at him.

”So did you find out what Professor Snape wanted with you, Mr. Dormers?” he asked the wizard.

”Yes, sir,” Rod replied.

”Good. You will give me every detail in my office,” Wumblewort replied.

Rod couldn’t help but wonder why the Headmaster was so interested in what happened between he and Professor Snape. The truth was the wizard was curious and a bit concerned that someone as influential as the Professor was taking an interest in Rod. The man talked to no one, but took this orphan off the grounds and spent time with him? Why? What was the purpose of it? If Rod had been an exceptional student, he might understand the interest. Patrons often looked for bright students to give a leg up, then basked in the glory of their achievements. But Rod was not exceptional in the least. Wumblewort just had to know what was going on.

They walked down the corridor to the gargoyle statue, and the Headmaster muttered a spell at it. The statue leapt aside, opening the way to his office. The gargoyle had some gouges in the side of its stone head, left over from when it had been knocked aside during the Final Battle so long ago. The statue had appeared so punch drunk at the time, Harry hadn’t been sure if it would be able to continue differentiating between passwords, but it had come through its ordeal fine.

Wumblewort and Rod rode the spiral stairwell to the office and the Headmaster let them both in, gesturing to Rod to take the seat in front of his desk as he settled behind it. The wizard folded his hands and studied the boy.

”So, what did Professor Snape want with you, Mr. Dormers?” the Headmaster asked him.

“To buy me a set of dress robes,” Rod answered shortly.

The Headmaster looked surprised.

”Dress robes?” he asked again.

Rod nodded.

”Why would Professor Snape buy you dress robes, Mr. Dormers?” the wizard asked him.

Rod shrugged.

“I think it’s because I’m going to the Christmas ball with Rose Weasley. Her mother works for him. He said I have to make a good showing for his old house,” Rod said. He didn’t tell the Headmaster about all the other things Snape brought him.

“Ah I see, and that is the witch you saved,” the Headmaster said, nodding his head. “He must have heard about it and wanted to reward you. Was there anything else?”

Rod looked at the Headmaster and thought that this next bit of information would rock his socks.

”He offered me a job too,” Rod said, his blue eyes watching for the reaction.

Wumblewort actually spluttered.

”You? He offered you a job? But, with your marks you hardly qualify as a dishwasher. What kind of job could you possibly do for a wizard of his caliber?” the Headmaster asked the boy, not realizing how degrading his response was in his surprise.

”I guess all the years I spent digging dirt and shoveling manure around Hogwarts finally paid off, sir. I am going to help with the planting and maintenance of his Potions ingredients. In other words, I’ll be a groundskeeper, like I was here. Only paid for it,” Rod said evenly, emphasizing the word “paid.”

“He believes you can handle such exacting work?” the Headmaster asked him.

Rod thought that the wizard was asking the wrong person this question. He also thought about giving a very snarky reply to such a stupid one. Obviously the Professor thought he could handle it or he wouldn’t have offered him the job. He said it himself, he wasn’t a man to waste his time.

“Yes, I’ll be starting this summer after graduation,” the boy said.

The Headmaster studied Rod. It was manual labor, but a position that put him in close contact with one of the wizarding world’s most influential Potions Masters. How had the boy managed to impress Snape? He certainly didn’t impress anyone else. Maybe the wizard had just felt sorry for the boy. He had no family and no good prospects for the future. The Headmaster decided Snape was just being magnanimous. Plus he was probably going to pay the boy a pittance. Well at least one charity case would be out of his hair either way.

”Good for you, Mr. Dormers. Is there anything else you can tell me?” he asked the wizard, who thought, “Yeah, go to hell you nosy bastard.”

”No sir,” Rod responded.

“Very well, Mr. Dormers. You may go,” Wumblewort said to the young man, who hesitated, thinking Roland might be hanging about waiting for him to return. He didn’t feel like facing him yet.

Rod sat there a moment.

”Is there something else, Mr. Dormers?” the Headmaster asked him, scowling slightly. The boy should have left the moment he was dismissed. Was he getting airs because he had the notice of a famous wizard?

”I wonder if I might take the floo to the Slytherin common room, sir. I’m not feeling very well,” Rod said, giving a little heave for effect.

Wumblewort’s eyes widened. Was the boy going to vomit in his office?

”Yes! Go right ahead, Mr. Dormers,” the wizard said hastily. Scourgifying the mess would be a simple thing, but who wanted to sit through that?

Rod thanked him, walked over to the floo, scooped out a handful of floo powder and tossed it into the flames.

”Slytherin Common Room,” Rod said, the flames turning green.

He stepped through.

Wumblewort sighed. Well, at least the mystery was solved. So Mr. Dormers was taking Miss Weasley to the Christmas ball. Hm. The Headmaster couldn’t remember him ever attending any of the school’s social functions. But why would Rose Weasley go with someone like him? The girl was quite popular, if low-key. Maybe it was gratitude for Rod saving her.

More than likely, it was pity.

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A/N: Had to check in with Rod. Whew! Close call with Roland, and good for Rose. Thanks for reading.

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