"Many boys and girls are heroes in their dreams," Dumbledore said quietly. He did not look at any of the other girls, only at her. "Fewer in the waking world. Many have stood their ground and faced the darkness when it comes for them. Fewer come for the darkness and force it to face them. It is a hard life, sometimes lonely, often short. I have told none to refuse that calling, but neither would I wish to increase their number."
Hermione hesitated; there was something in the lined face that stopped her, like a hint to all the emotion that wasn't being displayed, years and years of it...
Maybe if there were more heroes, their lives wouldn't be so lonely, or so short.
She couldn't bring herself to say that, though, not to him.
"But the point is moot," said the old wizard. He smiled, a bit ruefully she thought. "Miss Granger, you cannot teach heroism like you would teach Charms. You cannot assign twelve inches on how to carry on when all hope seems lost. You cannot rehearse students on when to stand up and tell the Headmaster he has done wrong. Heroes are born, not taught. And for whatever reason, more of them are born boys than girls." The Headmaster shrugged, as if to say that he was helpless to do anything about that.
"Um," Hermione said. She couldn't help it, she glanced behind her.
Professor Sinistra was looking a bit indignant. And it wasn't true that everyone was staring at her like she'd just been silly, the way she'd started to imagine while she was listening to Dumbledore.
Hermione turned back to face Dumbledore again, took a deep breath, and said, "Well, maybe people who are going to be heroes, will be heroes no matter what. But I don't see how anyone could really know that, aside from just saying it afterward. And when I told you that I wanted to be a hero, you weren't very encouraging."
"Mr. Potter," the Headmaster said mildly. His eyes didn't leave hers. "Please tell Miss Granger your impression of our own first meeting. Would you say that I was encouraging? Speak the truth."
There was a pause.
"Mr. Potter?" said Professor Vector's voice from behind her, sounding puzzled.
"Um," Harry's voice said from further back, sounding extremely reluctant. "Um... well, actually in my case the Headmaster set fire to a chicken."
"He what?" Hermione blurted, only there were several other people exclaiming things at around the same time so she wasn't sure anyone heard her.
Dumbledore went on gazing at her, looking perfectly serious.
"I didn't know about Fawkes," Harry's voice said rapidly, "so he told me that Fawkes was a phoenix, while he was pointing to a chicken on Fawkes's stand so I'd think that was Fawkes, and then he set the chicken on fire - and also he gave me this big rock and told me it had belonged to my father and I ought to carry it everywhere -"
"But that's crazy!" Susan blurted out.
There was a sudden hush.
The Headmaster slowly turned his head to stare at Susan.
"I -" said Susan. "I mean - I -"
The Headmaster leaned down until he was face-to-face with the young girl.
"I didn't -" said Susan.
Dumbledore put a finger to his lips and twiddled them, making a bweeble-bweeble-bweeble sound.
The Headmaster straightened up again and said, "Well, my good heroines, it has been pleasant speaking to you, but alas, much else remains to do this day. Still, rest assured that I am inscrutable at everyone, not just witches."
The gargoyles stepped aside, the Flowing Stone rumbling like rock as it moved like flesh.
The huge ugly figures waited briefly with dead gray eyes staring out in silent vigil, as Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, smiling as benevolently as when he'd first emerged from his office, stepped back into the Enchantment of the Endless Stair.
Then the great gargoyles folded their wings back into place and stepped back into their former positions, only one last brief "Bwa-ha-ha!" echoing out before the gap closed.
There was a long silence.
"He really set a chicken on fire?" said Hannah.
The eight of them had continued protesting even after that, but to be honest their heart had gone out of it.
It had been established, after some careful questions from Professor Flitwick, that Harry Potter hadn't smelled the chicken burning. Which meant that it had probably been a pebble or something, Transfigured into a chicken and then enclosed in a Boundary Charm to make sure that no smoke escaped into the air - both Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall had been very emphatic about nobody trying that without their supervision.
But still...
But still... what?
Hermione didn't even know but still what.
But still.
After a lot of glances exchanged between girls none of whom had wanted to be first to say it, Hermione had declared the protest over, and the adults and boys had drifted off.
"You don't think we were being unfair to Dumbledore, do you?" said Susan as the heroines walked away to the sound of eight pairs of feet trodding on the stone paving of Hogwarts's corridors. "I mean, if he is crazy at everyone and not just at witches then it's not discrimination, right?"
"I don't want to protest against the Headmaster any more," Hannah said weakly. The Hufflepuff girl seemed a bit unsteady on her feet. "I don't care what Professor McGonagall says about him not holding it against us, it's just too much for my nerves."
Lavender snorted. "I guess you won't be slaying armies of Inferi anytime soon -"
"Stop that!" Hermione said sharply. "Look, all of us have got to learn to be heroines, right? It's okay if someone doesn't know right away."
"The Headmaster doesn't think it can be learned," Padma said. The Ravenclaw girl's face was thoughtful, her steps measured as she strode through the corridor. "The Headmaster doesn't even think that's a good idea."
Daphne was striding with her back straight and her head held bolt upright, looking more like a Proper Young Lady in her Hogwarts robes than Hermione could have done with her best formal dress. "The Headmaster," Daphne said in a precise voice, her shoes making hard, sharp tacking sounds on the stone, "thinks the lot of us are a bunch of silly girls playing games, and that someday Hermione might make a good sidekick but the rest of us are hopeless."
"Is he right?" said Parvati. The Gryffindor girl's face was very serious, making her look much more like her twin than she usually did. "I mean it has to be asked -"
"No!" spat Tracey. The Slytherin girl was stalking through the hallway looking ready to kill someone, like a miniature female Snape. Of all the girls, Tracey was the one who Hermione knew least. Hermione had talked to Lavender once before, but she'd never really seen Tracey except at wandpoint during a battle, until the Slytherin had jumped up from her sofa to volunteer. "We'll show him! We'll show them all!"
"Okay," said Susan, "that was definitely evil -"
"No," said Lavender, "that's a Chaos Legion motto, actually. Only she didn't do the insane laughter."
"That's right," Tracey said, her voice low and grim. "This time I'm not laughing." The girl went on stalking through the corridor, like she had dramatic music accompanying her that only she could hear.
(Hermione was starting to worry about what exactly the impressionable youths of the Chaos Legion were learning from Harry Potter.)
"But - I mean -" Parvati said. She still had a contemplative look on her face. "I mean, you can see why the Headmaster would think we were just silly girls, right? What does protesting outside the Headmaster's office have to do with becoming heroines?"