Post by Karlynne on Feb 21, 2005 3:55:48 GMT -5
To GingerNewts in apology and to Krys
An Old Fool
It was late January and the grounds around the castle were frozen solid. Christmas was long forgotten but spring seemed a million miles away. Poppy Pomfrey came into my office carrying two cups of hot chocolate and handed one to me. She was the school mediwitch but somehow had taken over the duties of Tickle, my personal house elf. Poppy brought me hot chocolate each morning and at tea time each day. She cautioned me against excessive consumption of lemon drops and urged me to walk from the bottom floor of the castle to the top once each day for exercise. I wanted to assure her that her job was secure but as this was her first year of employment I knew my words would fall on deaf ears. Armando Dippet was headmaster but it had been accepted long ago that I was the administrator of the school and he was merely a figurehead.
“Minerva’s here,” she spoke softly.
I grunted. “I don’t know why you think I can be of any help to her. This isn’t the sort of thing I get involved in. You shouldn’t have asked and I shouldn’t have agreed.”
“Fine! Don’t see her. You needn’t put yourself out. Don’t do me any favors.” She slammed her own cup of chocolate down on my desk and the contents sloshed over the rim and across the polished wood.
I let out a sigh. Poppy had never asked for anything in the six months she had been employed. She worked longer hours than nearly everyone at Hogwarts, everyone except Minerva McGonagall that is. Minerva had been hired just six short weeks ago. The illness and death of her mother had delayed her starting at the beginning of the school year and now she too was working excessive hours trying to prove her worth to him.
“Poppy, I’m sorry. Please show her in.” Poppy gave me a look filled with gratitude and I tried to smile in return but feared it resembled a grimace more than a grin. She rushed out and returned with Minerva before departing again.
It only took a few minutes to settle Minerva into a chair and offer her refreshments that were declined. Minerva was dressed like the stereotypical schoolmarm only in wizarding apparel. Loose shapeless robes of black, glasses perched on the edge of her nose, and her hair piled unfashionably on top of her head. Her skin was smooth and tight though and her eyes a magnificent shade of green. When she spoke, her Scottish lilt poured forth but she looked me straight in the eye and her voice while husky did not quiver.
“I am sorry to trouble you, Professor Dumbledore…” she began.
I held up a hand and halted her speech. “Please my name is Albus,” I corrected. She blushed which made her lovely face appear beatific.
She didn’t repeat my name but carried on with her story. “Poppy thought I should speak with you and ask for your help. I don’t know what you can do…”
She trailed off and I decided to insert my own opinions of her situation. “Yes, Poppy has told me some of your trouble. It’s your father. He has found himself without a wife, with a grown daughter leading her own life, and plenty of money and time on his hands. You discovered he has dismissed all the house elves and is currently employing a cleaning woman by the name of Lucy Fletcher. He is spending lavish amounts of money on her and you fear he will be destitute in a matter of months if she isn’t stopped. You need to understand that I am not a solicitor, a psychiatrist, or even a private investigator. I don’t know what you expect me to do.”
Minerva rose from her seat and the disappointment on her face tore at my heart. “Poppy told me that sometimes you take…shortcuts…if you felt an injustice was being done to someone. True?”
I found myself nodding in reply.
“My mother has only been gone a few months and I know that life goes on and he should move on but I hate to see someone taking advantage of him and perhaps eventually breaking his heart. I know you are probably thinking he’s nearly a hundred and thirty years old, why not let him have a fling with a forty year old woman. They are both adults and what could it harm?” Her voice broke a little and I knew we had arrived at the crux of the matter.
“Why would a forty year old woman want to spend so much time with an old man?” I felt my heart splinter at those words. I was over a hundred and before me stood a young woman of thirty. A woman I fell in love with the day I interviewed her six months ago.
“Minerva, I sympathize with you but what would you have me do? I can hardly Obliviate her or dispose of her quietly.” Her shoulders slumped and the defeat on her face trapped me into speaking against my will. “Maybe I can poke around a little and see if something is out of line.”
Her smile blossomed as hope filled her eyes and I found myself falling into those deep emerald pools. I would move heaven and earth for this woman.
Minerva informed me that Lucy Fletcher worked several jobs besides the one for her father. She cleaned three offices in muggle London since she could make use of her magical skills when no one was looking. I decided to pay a visit to another employer of hers however. She worked every Saturday at the Three Broomsticks helping out with the weekend trade and serving drinks to the magical folk venturing out for a day in Hogsmeade Village.
Desiree Rosmerta looked over the shop with a proprietary eye. Her father owned the inn but one day it would be hers and she didn’t mind the long hours or the rowdy warlocks she had to serve. The only problem she could see brewing were Lucy Fletcher and the three men at the table nearest the door giving the once over to Florence McTavish.
Florence McTavish was easy to handle. She was down on her luck and tried to pick up a few sickles or more than likely knuts, by swinging her hips and casting a wink occasionally. Desiree didn’t bother her as long as she was a paying customer and more wizards bought her drinks than she cared to have so the till grew rather quickly when Desiree visited but law enforcement had increased and gotten stricter about prostitution. She did not want to pay fines for providing solicitation opportunities for questionable activities performed in the alley behind the inn.
No, the problem was Lucy Fletcher, the world’s laziest waitress/cleaning woman. She performed as little work as possible and what she did do was sloppy. She would have fired her but the woman was barely more than a squib and employment would be extremely difficult to come by if word got out she was fired. Desiree had a soft spot for someone with limited magical ability. Her own mother had been a squib and it made life unpleasant at times.
I walked into the Three Broomsticks casting a quick charm around the room for hidden visitors. Finding none I took a seat at a small table for two near the counter. I saw Florence McTavish start to head in my direction but one glance over my half moon spectacles and she dropped into the nearest chair at the table next to mine. One day I would have to try to get her to mend her ways but for now I had other matters on my mind.
Desiree Rosmerta, a graduate of Hogwarts of less than a year, quickly brought over a tankard of pumpkin juice and sat across from me at my invitation. The three men near the door were trying to catch Florence’s eye but she studiously avoided them and stared into her glass of butterbeer. I asked many questions about Lucy and was dismayed to learn that Minerva was correct.
Lucy was out to fleece Minerva’s father and had bragged several times that she would have thousands of galleons to call her own in the near future. Lucy didn’t mind the wandering hands or the occasional pinch if it served her purposes and there were at least a million reasons to allow Minerva’s father to do as he wished, a million galleons worth.
I left the inn an hour later weary from hearing the exploits of Florence and the lazy habits of Lucy and trying to find a solution to Minerva’s problem. None came to mind over the next several weeks but I tried to give Minerva encouraging smiles as we passed in the hallways and during meals.
It was the first Sunday of spring break when aurors from the ministry came to Hogwarts. They were there to arrest Minerva for the death of Lucy Fletcher. I learned that Lucy had been killed sometime Saturday afternoon at her small flat in Hogsmeade. It had been a Hogsmeade weekend so those third years and up with permission had swarmed the village. Minerva and several other professors had chaperoned the students. Unfortunately, Minerva had left early. Presumably she had a headache and returned to the castle for a potion and the chance to lie down. Poppy had been away from the school though and Minerva had left the hospital wing with her head raging and had gone to her rooms where she said she slept.
She had no one to alibi her whereabouts and no one remembered seeing her until breakfast this morning. Minerva looked at me with eyes filled with confusion. They led her away and I hurried back to my office. I had to investigate this myself or Minerva would be railroaded into Azkaban.
Minerva was held for three days at the ministry. Fortunately she was spared spending them at the prison and held in a locked room instead. There was no evidence to tie Minerva to the crime. Her wand had been cleared. It had not cast any harmful spells and although there are many ways to kill a person, Lucy’s murderer had performed a gruesome slicing hex on her and she had bled to death.
Minerva returned to the school but I knew I only had a day at best before parents would begin sending howlers demanding the resignation or termination of Minerva. Even if they didn’t demand it, her contract was unlikely to be renewed with this grim cloud over her head.
Even worse, Minerva’s father would not speak to her. He had hired another cleaning woman that could cook and clean but refused any owls from Minerva and insisted she no longer visit.
An Old Fool
It was late January and the grounds around the castle were frozen solid. Christmas was long forgotten but spring seemed a million miles away. Poppy Pomfrey came into my office carrying two cups of hot chocolate and handed one to me. She was the school mediwitch but somehow had taken over the duties of Tickle, my personal house elf. Poppy brought me hot chocolate each morning and at tea time each day. She cautioned me against excessive consumption of lemon drops and urged me to walk from the bottom floor of the castle to the top once each day for exercise. I wanted to assure her that her job was secure but as this was her first year of employment I knew my words would fall on deaf ears. Armando Dippet was headmaster but it had been accepted long ago that I was the administrator of the school and he was merely a figurehead.
“Minerva’s here,” she spoke softly.
I grunted. “I don’t know why you think I can be of any help to her. This isn’t the sort of thing I get involved in. You shouldn’t have asked and I shouldn’t have agreed.”
“Fine! Don’t see her. You needn’t put yourself out. Don’t do me any favors.” She slammed her own cup of chocolate down on my desk and the contents sloshed over the rim and across the polished wood.
I let out a sigh. Poppy had never asked for anything in the six months she had been employed. She worked longer hours than nearly everyone at Hogwarts, everyone except Minerva McGonagall that is. Minerva had been hired just six short weeks ago. The illness and death of her mother had delayed her starting at the beginning of the school year and now she too was working excessive hours trying to prove her worth to him.
“Poppy, I’m sorry. Please show her in.” Poppy gave me a look filled with gratitude and I tried to smile in return but feared it resembled a grimace more than a grin. She rushed out and returned with Minerva before departing again.
It only took a few minutes to settle Minerva into a chair and offer her refreshments that were declined. Minerva was dressed like the stereotypical schoolmarm only in wizarding apparel. Loose shapeless robes of black, glasses perched on the edge of her nose, and her hair piled unfashionably on top of her head. Her skin was smooth and tight though and her eyes a magnificent shade of green. When she spoke, her Scottish lilt poured forth but she looked me straight in the eye and her voice while husky did not quiver.
“I am sorry to trouble you, Professor Dumbledore…” she began.
I held up a hand and halted her speech. “Please my name is Albus,” I corrected. She blushed which made her lovely face appear beatific.
She didn’t repeat my name but carried on with her story. “Poppy thought I should speak with you and ask for your help. I don’t know what you can do…”
She trailed off and I decided to insert my own opinions of her situation. “Yes, Poppy has told me some of your trouble. It’s your father. He has found himself without a wife, with a grown daughter leading her own life, and plenty of money and time on his hands. You discovered he has dismissed all the house elves and is currently employing a cleaning woman by the name of Lucy Fletcher. He is spending lavish amounts of money on her and you fear he will be destitute in a matter of months if she isn’t stopped. You need to understand that I am not a solicitor, a psychiatrist, or even a private investigator. I don’t know what you expect me to do.”
Minerva rose from her seat and the disappointment on her face tore at my heart. “Poppy told me that sometimes you take…shortcuts…if you felt an injustice was being done to someone. True?”
I found myself nodding in reply.
“My mother has only been gone a few months and I know that life goes on and he should move on but I hate to see someone taking advantage of him and perhaps eventually breaking his heart. I know you are probably thinking he’s nearly a hundred and thirty years old, why not let him have a fling with a forty year old woman. They are both adults and what could it harm?” Her voice broke a little and I knew we had arrived at the crux of the matter.
“Why would a forty year old woman want to spend so much time with an old man?” I felt my heart splinter at those words. I was over a hundred and before me stood a young woman of thirty. A woman I fell in love with the day I interviewed her six months ago.
“Minerva, I sympathize with you but what would you have me do? I can hardly Obliviate her or dispose of her quietly.” Her shoulders slumped and the defeat on her face trapped me into speaking against my will. “Maybe I can poke around a little and see if something is out of line.”
Her smile blossomed as hope filled her eyes and I found myself falling into those deep emerald pools. I would move heaven and earth for this woman.
Minerva informed me that Lucy Fletcher worked several jobs besides the one for her father. She cleaned three offices in muggle London since she could make use of her magical skills when no one was looking. I decided to pay a visit to another employer of hers however. She worked every Saturday at the Three Broomsticks helping out with the weekend trade and serving drinks to the magical folk venturing out for a day in Hogsmeade Village.
Desiree Rosmerta looked over the shop with a proprietary eye. Her father owned the inn but one day it would be hers and she didn’t mind the long hours or the rowdy warlocks she had to serve. The only problem she could see brewing were Lucy Fletcher and the three men at the table nearest the door giving the once over to Florence McTavish.
Florence McTavish was easy to handle. She was down on her luck and tried to pick up a few sickles or more than likely knuts, by swinging her hips and casting a wink occasionally. Desiree didn’t bother her as long as she was a paying customer and more wizards bought her drinks than she cared to have so the till grew rather quickly when Desiree visited but law enforcement had increased and gotten stricter about prostitution. She did not want to pay fines for providing solicitation opportunities for questionable activities performed in the alley behind the inn.
No, the problem was Lucy Fletcher, the world’s laziest waitress/cleaning woman. She performed as little work as possible and what she did do was sloppy. She would have fired her but the woman was barely more than a squib and employment would be extremely difficult to come by if word got out she was fired. Desiree had a soft spot for someone with limited magical ability. Her own mother had been a squib and it made life unpleasant at times.
I walked into the Three Broomsticks casting a quick charm around the room for hidden visitors. Finding none I took a seat at a small table for two near the counter. I saw Florence McTavish start to head in my direction but one glance over my half moon spectacles and she dropped into the nearest chair at the table next to mine. One day I would have to try to get her to mend her ways but for now I had other matters on my mind.
Desiree Rosmerta, a graduate of Hogwarts of less than a year, quickly brought over a tankard of pumpkin juice and sat across from me at my invitation. The three men near the door were trying to catch Florence’s eye but she studiously avoided them and stared into her glass of butterbeer. I asked many questions about Lucy and was dismayed to learn that Minerva was correct.
Lucy was out to fleece Minerva’s father and had bragged several times that she would have thousands of galleons to call her own in the near future. Lucy didn’t mind the wandering hands or the occasional pinch if it served her purposes and there were at least a million reasons to allow Minerva’s father to do as he wished, a million galleons worth.
I left the inn an hour later weary from hearing the exploits of Florence and the lazy habits of Lucy and trying to find a solution to Minerva’s problem. None came to mind over the next several weeks but I tried to give Minerva encouraging smiles as we passed in the hallways and during meals.
It was the first Sunday of spring break when aurors from the ministry came to Hogwarts. They were there to arrest Minerva for the death of Lucy Fletcher. I learned that Lucy had been killed sometime Saturday afternoon at her small flat in Hogsmeade. It had been a Hogsmeade weekend so those third years and up with permission had swarmed the village. Minerva and several other professors had chaperoned the students. Unfortunately, Minerva had left early. Presumably she had a headache and returned to the castle for a potion and the chance to lie down. Poppy had been away from the school though and Minerva had left the hospital wing with her head raging and had gone to her rooms where she said she slept.
She had no one to alibi her whereabouts and no one remembered seeing her until breakfast this morning. Minerva looked at me with eyes filled with confusion. They led her away and I hurried back to my office. I had to investigate this myself or Minerva would be railroaded into Azkaban.
Minerva was held for three days at the ministry. Fortunately she was spared spending them at the prison and held in a locked room instead. There was no evidence to tie Minerva to the crime. Her wand had been cleared. It had not cast any harmful spells and although there are many ways to kill a person, Lucy’s murderer had performed a gruesome slicing hex on her and she had bled to death.
Minerva returned to the school but I knew I only had a day at best before parents would begin sending howlers demanding the resignation or termination of Minerva. Even if they didn’t demand it, her contract was unlikely to be renewed with this grim cloud over her head.
Even worse, Minerva’s father would not speak to her. He had hired another cleaning woman that could cook and clean but refused any owls from Minerva and insisted she no longer visit.
I wonder how well you would do out of the hospital. Thanks for the read and hope you're feeling better. Kim 
I liked this, but why are you apologizing to me?
I hope to see another so you can see my brilliant mind at work. Krys
