Disclaimer : I'm not JKR and I don't own diddly.

Thanks to the Minx, once more, for spotting a surfeit of 
'He's ... the rest of the mistakes are down to me.
 
Destiny
 
It was late one Friday afternoon. Dumbledore sat in his 
office dealing with the minutiae of running Hogwarts. He 
went through the papers on his desk. Professor Snape 
wanted an increase in the Potions budget and 
compulsory detention for anybody seen glaring at a 
master. A note from Minerva told him she would be 
bringing Malfoy and Weasley to see him, for fighting. He 
looked at the clock - that would be in ten minutes time. 
A stern telling-off was required - one more onerous 
duty. Dear old Binns was arguing that History of Magic 
lessons be extended by half-an-hour, to allow adequate 
time for a proper explanation of the 1318 Overthrow of 
the Ogres. The House Elves were suggesting, most 
deferentially, that they hadn't worked hard enough this 
month and that they should punish themselves by 
sticking hot toasting forks in their arms. 

And the Ministry of Magic's report on their recent 
inspection of the kitchens had arrived - 'A degree of 
lumpiness was noted in the custard, consistent with 
insufficient agitation during its preparation. It is highly 
recommended that ...'

Dumbledore carefully folded the report into a paper-
aeroplane and sent it gliding around the room.

"Catch it Fawkes!"

The phoenix sprang from his perch and caught the plane 
in an instant.

'What do you want done with it Albus?' Fawkes didn't 
speak of course, but Dumbledore heard him clearly 
nonetheless.

"Fire."

The bird dropped the Ministry's carefully phrased report 
onto the glowing coals. It blazed briefly, throwing a little 
light into the room. Fawkes spread his scarlet wings to 
catch the heat.

"Some use after all" chuckled Dumbledore, as the 
phoenix returned to his perch. Then he fell silent and 
thoughtful for several minutes.

'What is troubling you?' asked Fawkes finally.

"Harry. And the girl."

'Ah yes, worrying times. They should be further along 
the path by now - they should be close to one another. 
Destiny demands it.' If a Phoenix could look worried, 
Fawkes did.

"I hoped Harry might take her to the Yule Ball - I 
arranged it for that specific purpose. Unfortunately 
another had already asked her" said Dumbledore. He 
placed his thin hands together in front of his lips and 
stared at the fire.

'How much longer do we have to get them to show an 
interest in each another?'

"Three years - almost" replied Dumbledore, still staring 
at the fire.

'Three years - why that is but an instant. We are surely 
doomed.'

"An instant to you and I Fawkes, but it is a long time to 
ones as young as they. All is not lost. Yet so much rests 
on them - if only I was allowed to tell them. It may be 
possible to encourage the girl. I suspect she will have to 
make the first move. Harry is very shy where girls are 
concerned."

'It is their destiny Albus. Surely they can see it?'

"They are children. Destiny is not always apparent to 
young eyes."

They fell silent once more. Dumbledore weighed 
possibilities in his mind. If only there was some hint of a 
spark between them. He looked up at a knock on the 
door.

"Come."

Professor McGonagall's head appeared around the door.

"Weasley and Malfoy, for fighting and use of magic in 
the corridors. Had you forgotten Headmaster?"

Dumbledore sighed wearily and nodded. "I'm afraid I 
had. What happened?"

"Malfoy insulted Potter in his absence. Weasley sprang 
to his defence and attacked Malfoy. Malfoy responded 
with punches of his own. Then wands were used."

"Let them stew for a few minutes more and then send 
them in."

McGonagall smiled at him and disappeared. Dumbledore 
flopped back in his chair and rubbed at his eyes. What 
this time, he wondered? Quarrels in the corridor were a 
never-ending source of problems. For all their ineptness 
and dullness in lessons, some pupils managed to show a 
high degree of skill and creativity when it came to the 
aggressive use of magic. In spite of his mood, 
Dumbledore chuckled. He lay back in his chair, shut his 
eyes and pondered on possible suitable punishments.

A few minutes later there was a tap at the door. He 
opened his eyes. McGonagall marched the miscreants 
into his office. One of the offenders sported bright 
orange wriggling worms where his fingers should have 
been. The other ... Dumbledore sat bolt upright, hope 
suddenly welling up inside him. Perhaps things were 
starting to work as destiny demanded ... for the other 
was a very angry-looking red-haired girl.

T H E     E N D