Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Albus Dumbledore, as many of you will know, was a very serious man. His time was devoted to keeping Harry alive and trying to piece together the mysterious puzzle that was Voldemort. Of course, he was also a man of many secrets. He kept to himself, despite his fame, and not many knew how he spent his time alone.

It was a certain bushy-haired, bossy, young girl that found out the secrets of Albus Dumbledore. Some say that it was bound to be her; she was the brightest of her age, after all. Others say she found out by chance.

Both are wrong. Hermione Granger was told and shown by the great wizard himself. That's all there was to it.

"Professor," Hermione said hesitantly. She was in awe of the headmaster, and hated to speak out of turn, but there were some times when her curiosity simply got the better of her. "If you don't mind me asking…what on earth are you doing?"

To Hermione's dismay, the professor didn't even so much look at her. He simply continued to stare at the small multi-coloured box in his hands, his usually twinkling eyes narrowed in frustration. She was contemplating asking him again, thinking that he must not have heard her, when she was pulled from her thoughts by a loud slamming noise. Her eyes widened and her back snapped upright.

"Are you quite alright?" she cried loudly, before adding quickly, "Professor."

"No, Miss Granger." Dumbledore looked furious as he glared down at the cube that he had slammed onto his wooden desk. "But I believe you can help me with my dilemma."

Letting out a sigh of relief, Hermione nodded eagerly. It was usually Harry that Dumbledore called on and she felt rather honored to have called up to his office. When a few of the students had briefly asked her if she was in trouble, she had briefly considered the absurd idea. Of course she wasn't in trouble. She was never in trouble.

That, however, doesn't mean to say she didn't feel relieved to know that she wasn't.

"This," Dumbledore gestured wildly towards the object of his interest, "I'm afraid, is impossible."

Hiding a giggle as she cast her eyes down to see the offending object, Hermione replied, "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm fairly certain that it is not—"

"It is!" he exclaimed loudly, causing her to jump back in fright. "You see this lines under my eyes? They're bags, Miss Granger. Bags!"

"I… I know, sir."

"Do you know what they are from? Lack of sleep! I was busy fiddling around with this…this insolent obje—"

"Rubix cube," Hermione interjected, slightly amused by the Professor's outburst. "It's called a rubik's cube, sir."

"Yes, Miss Granger," Dumbledore readily agreed. "And you were saying before that you believe that it is possible to complete?"

"Oh, sir, it's entirely possible. You see, there's a tric—"

"So you're sure it's possible?" the headmaster interrupted, tossing the rubix cube from side to side with a new interest, the twinkle in his eyes slowly returning. "Miss Granger, this rubik's cube...it can be solved?"

And because she'd never pass by on a chance to get in the headmaster's good graces, she said, "Yes, sir. If you would like, I could help you."

Professor Dumbledore, however, dismissed her with a flick of his hand. And dejected, Hermione walked out of his office feeling put out, if not a little confused.

She'd never known Dumbledore to call a student up to his office for such a trivial matter. And she'd never known anyone to be dismissed like that.

Hermione Granger, smart girl that she was, figured it out.

The rubik's cube.

He must've been obsessed.