Resolving a Misunderstanding (complete)

[stefdarlin]

sevherfan said:

Unfortunately the RaM-universe really does feel too much like a living-breathing-universe to make any requests of it, but can Minerva please, please, please describe to Albus what it feels like before he tells her how it works and what it is supposed to feel like?

Oh my...sevherfan? Are you in my head?? LMAO!

If you are, beware..it can get dangerous in there. ;D

[esoterica1693]

The interplay between phoenix!Albus and Minerva was the best part of this fine chapter. Hopefully he *heard and felt* the love in all her comments and strokes and kisses! And why do I think he was singing of his love for her and 'the miracle that is Minerva'? They are both definitely less repressed when either is transformed.

If they both transformed together, I don't think we'd have to worry so much about one attacking the other as prey, per the earlier discussion, as we would them finally expressing their feelings fully to each other! Though how that would work logistically w/ a cat and a large bird is utterly beyond me, especially if their emotions really started to run wild (makes goat charms seem simple ). So I guess they'll have to be hominids to do that.
- - - -
Poor Pretnick. And poor Albus. To be confronted w/ Pretnick's defeat by despair the day after recounting his own battle with it *and eventual perseverance and triumph*--no wonder he feels horribly guilty. He'd always feel guilty, but at this particular time more even than otherwise.

Gertie and Minerva are making progress. IMO Gertie knows so much more than she's saying directly:

"you are here to listen or to . . . to keep him company."

I think those elipses are a rather significant pause--I posit she can very well imagine just what kind of company from Minerva Albus would find most healing and comforting, if only both of them would figure it out!

I think that perhaps the wards have a taste for citrus. <g>

And the two of them tripping over their Freudian slips at the beginning of the chapter was great...as was Albus's fear that his touch would squick Minerva. Of course it doesn't, but it's so Albus to fear it will!

I do want to know why Albus had such a reflexive and urgent *need* for Gertrude after learning of Pretnick. It didn't feel like he needed her to *do* something for him as much as *be* something for him. Perhaps, given his lingering fears about being physically close to Minerva, he just wanted to fall into somebody's arms and let go--somebody who would understand just why he felt so terribly guilty--but didn't feel comfortable doing that w/ Minerva.

[esoterica1693]

Just out of curiosity--MMADfan, how large do you envision phoenix!Albus being?

For no documented reason whatsoever, canon or otherwise <g> ,I've always imagined phoenixes as very large indeed, similar, say, to an eagle. Probably b/c that's one of the most majestic birds I can picture. But judging from the way Minerva kisses his head, he can't be that large.

[MMADfan]

esoterica1693 said:

Just out of curiosity--MMADfan, how large do you envision phoenix!Albus being?

For no documented reason whatsoever, canon or otherwise <g> ,I've always imagined phoenixes as very large indeed, similar, say, to an eagle. Probably b/c that's one of the most majestic birds I can picture. But judging from the way Minerva kisses his head, he can't be that large.

I think of him as being about the size of a large pheasant, perhaps a bit larger, but with a larger wingspan, proportionately -- something (in terms of relative size) more like a condor or other vulture. So he's pretty big. Remember, bird's heads, even those of eagles', are not usually particularly big in relation to the rest of their bodies -- the owl has a fairly large head, proportionately, compared to other birds. Also, because the phoenix is not a bird of prey, it won't have the stereoscopic vision that something like an owl would have, but its eyes would be on either side of its head, like a peacock or such. But as I mentioned in the story text, his weight seems disproportionately light compared with his size. His alighting on Minerva's shoulder would be a pretty fair feat, given his size, but not uncomfortable for Minerva, because he is so lightweight -- not to mention the fact that she gets to be close to him and his magic! Maybe envisioning a smallish peacock might help, although the legs I see as being quite different, and, of course, the tail is completely different.

[MMADfan]

To tide you over until the next chapter is posted, here's the next little game for you. It's also being posted over on my LJ, so you can hop over there and post your guesses, if you like. (Best not to clutter up the story thread with toooooo much other stuff, I suppose -- although I am certainly not unknown to add OT remarks more than just occasionally! ;D)

---

RaM GAME #2

Who?

1. Who believed that Minerva was suffering from unrequited love during the summer before her sixth year?

a. Malcolm.
b. Morgan.
c. Murdoch.
d. Egeria.

2. Who is Poppy interested in after meeting him at Minerva’s tea party?

a. Brennan O’Donald.
b. Quin MacAirt.
c. Malcolm McGonagall.
d. Murdoch McGonagall.

3. With whom does Albus send Minerva on a date?

a. Quin MacAirt.
b. Filius Flitwick.
c. Rubeus Hagrid.
d. Johannes Birnbaum.

4. Who taught both Albus Dumbledore and Merwyn McGonagall?

a. Finn Futhark
b. Carrie A. Nation
c. Nicolas Flamel
d. Phineas Nigellus Black

5. Who woke up in the mud after a duel?

a. Gellert Grindelwald
b. Malcolm McGonagall
c. Albus Dumbledore
d. Tom Riddle

6. Who has a crush on Gertrude, according to Quin?

a. Himself.
b. Johannes Birnbaum.
c. Rubeus Hagrid.
d. Frankie Flint.

7. Who cast curses on Rufus Scrimgeour?

a. Gellert Grindelwald
b. Malcolm McGonagall
c. Albus Dumbledore
d. Alastor Moody

8. Who died in France?

a. Collum McGonagall
b. Carson Murphy
c. Alastor Moody
d. Madame Feuilly

9. Who first tells Minerva that Albus loves her?

a. Albus Dumbledore
b. Quin MacAirt
c. Merwyn McGonagall
d. Egeria McGonagall

10. Who is marrying in August 1957?

a. Poppy and Murdoch.
b. Minerva and Albus.
c. Melina and Brennan.
d. Fiona and Morgan.

Hope you had fun!

[minerva62]

Thank you for another great update!

This chapter was sad because of Pretnick's death and Albus feeling guilty about it, but I like the way Minerva and Gertie are getting better friends...

And the ambiguities in Albus' and Minerva's conversation about napping...playing (chess)...are hilarious... ;D

And I loved Albus in his animagus form....Will we have more of this?

I agree with esoterica1693...it would be interesting to find them both in their animagus forms...

As always I'm impatient for more...

[Orion's Guard]

Heh. Little bit of a happy suprise there when Albus returned and accepted the wards. I'd like to see her explain that to him.

When I first saw the title, I thought something more violent was going to have happened, but it's enough here to send our characters into a bit of an emotional frenzy.

[tabbykittenkat]

so I have followed this story for like ever but never commented....[glow=red,2,300]I FREAKING LOVE IT!!! [/glow] I am excited for it to keep going!!! you are doing great
<3

[esoterica1693]

Hmm...these quizzes require going back and re-reading chapters, and then I find myself just continuing to read even once I've found the tidbit I was looking for.....

I noticed in the scene where Min learned of Alroy's special abilities, it was mentioned that in her cat form she can communicate w/ some other animals, especially magical creatures 'such as hippogriffs and kneazles.' Does that include, oh, say, *animagus phoenixes*?? If both Min and Albus were transformed, and one was having frank thoughts about the other, would the other one 'hear' them? Albus knows of Min's ability in this regard, so presumably he would censor his thoughts around her in such a situation, but would she be able to do the same?

Could make for a very interesting scene!

[stefdarlin]

esoterica1693 said:

Hmm...these quizzes require going back and re-reading chapters, and then I find myself just continuing to read even once I've found the tidbit I was looking for.....

I noticed in the scene where Min learned of Alroy's special abilities, it was mentioned that in her cat form she can communicate w/ some other animals, especially magical creatures 'such as hippogriffs and kneazles.' Does that include, oh, say, *animagus phoenixes*?? If both Min and Albus were transformed, and one was having frank thoughts about the other, would the other one 'hear' them? Albus knows of Min's ability in this regard, so presumably he would censor his thoughts around her in such a situation, but would she be able to do the same?

Could make for a very interesting scene!

[glow=LimeGreen,2,300]BRILLIANT!![/glow]

[MMADfan]

Note: Not DH-compliant!

Glad folks enjoyed Animagus!Albus. And yes, we will learn more about Animagus!Minerva and Animagus!Albus (the omission of "phoenix" in the list of magical creatures Minerva found it easy to communicate with was a deliberate authorial choice -- make of that what you will! ;D), and we will see more of both Fawkes (though not a lot) and of Animagus!Albus in the future.

The answers to the first "RaM Game" are up on my LJ in an LJcut -- click on the link in the post to see the answers. The answers to the second game, which I think was a bit easier, will be up later today.

Posted in two parts because of length.

CXXV: Reverberations

Minerva was sitting at her desk when she again felt the tickling in the palms of her hands and the vibration in the soles of her feet that indicated the wards had shifted to her. From what she remembered from her time assisting Albus with the wards during the summer before her seventh year, he was able to seamlessly transfer the wards to and from Dippet without being in the Headmaster’s presence, but in order to transfer them back to Albus or to one of the other Heads of House, Dippet actually had to be in the physical presence of the other person. Dumbledore had explained that it was very useful for him to be able to do transfer the wards discreetly, since it further camouflaged the fact that he actually held the wards most of the time, even when Dippet was present in the castle. If for some reason the person holding the wards had to leave the grounds and was unable to pass them on, as soon as they departed, the wards would snap to whichever Head of House was present and closest to Hogwarts Heart. If no Head of House were available, the wards would simply “tend to themselves,” as Dumbledore put it. It was not ideal to have the wards unattended, since if there were an accident or if someone was attempting to foil the defensive wards, no one would be made aware of it, and there was also some benefit to having the wards tended by a true intelligence, rather than by the castle itself. Dumbledore had told her, though, that now that he had completed the most fundamental repairs on the ward lattice, the wards themselves would remain unaffected for a long time even without the annual renewal – years, in fact – and would only very slowly begin to disintegrate from the lattice, beginning with the wards that he had not yet repaired, and ending with the wards that helped maintain the physical integrity of the castle, which had been among the first that he had realigned. Hogwarts own magic was sufficient to maintain them without a Keeper, and although the infusion of magic at the time of the ward renewal each August assisted in retuning the wards and reinforcing the ties between Hogwarts and the Heads of House, and the Headmaster or Headmistress, it was not immediately essential to their continued functioning. If the wards were not renewed yearly, however, not only would the connection between the Heads of House and the castle’s magic begin to thin, but the lattice itself would, over time, weaken. The castle and the foundational wards could only do so much without the contributions and the stimulation provided by the annual ward renewal.

Minerva wondered why she had been installed after the ward renewal, and not before it. Obviously, since James was unavailable for the warding and Dustern’s contract term didn’t end until the third of August, it made sense for Dustern to take part in the warding, but she didn’t understand why Wilhelmina had participated in the warding, and not she. Minerva was also curious about how it was that Hogwarts knew she was a Head of House now. It must have something to do with the Gryffindor book accepting her. She wished that Hogwarts, A History, had discussed the wards and how Heads of House were chosen and installed, but she supposed it was just as well that that information was not commonly available. Nonetheless, Minerva Summoned her copy of Hogwarts, A History from its shelf and flipped through to find the chapter that described the rejection of the designated Head of Hufflepuff a few hundred years before.

She was about to begin reading that chapter when she decided to flip to the back of the book. For her eleventh birthday, her parents had given her a self-updating edition of Hogwarts, A History, with a one-hundred year subscription to the updates. Minerva wondered whether the book’s editors had yet added anything about her to the book. It wasn’t evident from the final page that they had, but the pagination had changed, so she used an indexing spell and found a page with her name on it. She smiled. There it was, in the chapter containing current descriptions of the Houses and their most recent accomplishments. It was just a few brief paragraphs, but now she was a part of Hogwarts, A History. Her name had been added to the table of Hogwarts staff when she began teaching, of course, but to her, that wasn’t the same as being mentioned in the text itself.

“On the second of August 1957, Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank, Care of Magical Creatures instructor, stepped down from her position as Head of Gryffindor and was replaced by Minerva M. McGonagall, Transfiguration Mistress. As a student at Hogwarts (1936 - 1943), McGonagall was first a prefect and then Head Girl, and achieved nine NEWTs (seven ‘Outstandings,’ in Ancient Runes, Astronomy, Charms, Defence, Herbology, History of Magic, and Transfiguration, and two ‘Exceeds Expectations,’ in Arithmancy and Potions, respectively).

“Professor McGonagall is known for her innovative work with the Ministry’s Committee on Experimental Transfiguration and her scholarly contributions to Transfiguration Today and Metamorphosis Monthly, but her most remarkable achievement was her defeat of Madame F. Feuilly, formerly of Beauxbatons, in an Apprentice’s Challenge in 1948. No Challenge had been issued in Transfiguration since 1696 in Halle, when an apprentice, K. Schmidt, Challenged his Master, Master Friedrich Hauptmann, and failed. Following his failure, Hauptmann dismissed Schmidt, rather than releasing him, and the apprentice disappeared into obscurity. Of the six recorded Transfiguration Challenges issued between 1220 and the present, McGonagall was one of only two apprentices to be successful. Issuing the Challenge was certainly a hallmark of a true Gryffindor. McGonagall’s achievement, however, was Madame Feuilly’s downfall, and the latter witch left Beauxbatons in disgrace mere months after her defeat at the hands of the Gryffindor witch.

“There are rumours regarding McGonagall’s participation in covert missions during the Grindelwald era, but none have been confirmed, and it is known only that she first worked in a small office of the Department for International Magical Cooperation, War Division, following her NEWTs in 1943, and was promoted in January 1945. There are significant lacunae in her Ministry record surrounding the cause of her promotion and the sudden change in her duties, and one may draw the conclusion that McGonagall exercised some measure of Gryffindor bravery that brought her to the attention of her superiors.

“Professor McGonagall replaced Professor Dumbledore as Transfiguration teacher in December 1956. Dumbledore was Head of Gryffindor House until his elevation to Hogwarts Headmaster in November 1955. Notably, Dumbledore was McGonagall’s Head of House and Transfiguration teacher during all but McGonagall’s first year as a student, and she appears to be the eminent wizard’s natural successor. What we might next expect of Professor McGonagall is only speculation, but good authority has it that she may be in line to replace Gertrude Gamp as Deputy Headmistress, a position normally held by a Head of House and formerly held by Dumbledore himself. (See the entry on page 1,837 for the facts surrounding Professor Gamp’s unusual appointment as Deputy despite her never being a Head of House – the first such appointment since 1527.)”

Deputy Headmistress? Minerva had always had great respect for Hogwarts, A History, but this seemed a bit of unwarranted speculation on their part. Simply because she had followed Albus as Transfiguration teacher and then as Head of Gryffindor, it did not follow that she would become his Deputy. And although she was aware that there had been some resistance to the idea of having a non-Head-of-House as Hogwarts Deputy Headmistress, it hadn’t been particularly vehement. Gertrude was well-respected and had taught at Hogwarts for more than seventeen years when Dippet died. The fact that she was a Slytherin had helped there, and not only because it provided balance with Albus being a Gryffindor, but also because it seemed almost half of the Board of Governors were Slytherins and rather liked the notion of a Slytherin as Deputy, and if it couldn’t be Slughorn, they were just as glad that it was Gertrude, despite the fact that she was somewhat unconventional.

Minerva hoped that Gertrude didn’t see this. She might think that Minerva had designs on her job. But she probably wouldn’t have any reason to look at Hogwarts, A History, and fortunately the Daily Prophet hadn’t published that tidbit of speculation. Of course, Gertrude had said that she didn’t want to be Deputy forever, or some such thing, and hadn’t ever wanted the job in the first place, only taking it because Albus had needed her.

Minerva thought back on the conversation she had had with Gertrude that morning in Gamp garden. Knowing Gertie a bit better now, Minerva thought that the older witch had been simply impressing upon her that Albus needed help and support, and that she was in a good position to provide it and would be in an even better position if she became Head of Gryffindor. Gertie had been providing support to him for years, since before Albus became Headmaster, Minerva was sure. But being his Deputy was quite a different proposition from being his friend; Gertie now had taken on responsibilities for Hogwarts, by extension of her friendship with Albus, that she wouldn’t ordinarily have taken on. Dropping everything for Albus now meant something more than it had when he was the Deputy and she was just his friend. Or even if she’d ever been more than just a friend. . . . perhaps Gertie wouldn’t mind the book’s speculation, after all.

It was a rather absurd idea, though, she, Deputy Headmistress. She wasn’t even thirty-three yet, and even if her age wasn’t a factor, she had only been at the school less than a year. And she was a Gryffindor, the same House as the Headmaster – although the Headmaster was traditionally said to be Houseless upon taking up the position, and that’s why his robes reflected the symbols of all four Houses. There would doubtless be some opposition to such an appointment, even if not from the staff, from the Board of Governors. Now that the idea entered her head, though, Minerva found herself liking it, despite its improbability. As she had said to Gertrude herself, Flitwick might make an excellent Deputy. But would he be as devoted as Gertrude had been? He and the Headmaster were friends, but they hardly had the bonds that Albus and Gertrude did. Not that that was a necessary prerequisite. From everything Minerva had been able to tell, Albus had never been great friends with Dippet, although he seemed to like him fairly well, yet Albus had been completely devoted to Hogwarts and had served the school well. It was probably only an incidental benefit to the school and to Albus that Gertrude was so devoted to him personally. But Albus was an extraordinary wizard with extraordinary duties; he was also not only Hogwarts Headmaster, but he had obligations outside the school. Beyond that, he was a man who would take on too much, if given the chance, and although he was quite capable of delegating, he had a tendency to drive himself too hard. He needed someone to look after him personally, not just in his capacity as Headmaster. Minerva was sure that Gertrude would have done that for him even if she hadn’t been made Deputy, but it was much easier for her since she was.

If anyone spoke to Minerva about becoming Deputy, she would not shy away from it the way she had been so uncertain about taking up the position as Head of Gryffindor. There were three other Heads of House, but she doubted that any of them cared for Albus in any way approaching her concern for him, even on a platonic level. No, if Gertrude did want to leave her post, then Minerva would take it up if asked, and without hesitation. No doubt, Gertrude would continue to care about Albus and the school and could be counted on to lend a hand now and again if need be, but if she were no longer Deputy, she would want to be secure in the knowledge that whoever became Deputy after her would take care of Albus and occasionally protect him from himself.

Minerva suddenly sat up straighter and shivered slightly. Albus must have returned. She would just ask him about the wards. Minerva sent the book back to its shelf and left her rooms, taking the stairs at a trot. She wasn’t sure where Albus was, whether he had returned to his office before taking the wards back or had done so as soon as he passed through the gates, but she wanted to catch him before he became busy with something else – unless he was with one of the other staff members, of course. But she could wait for him in his office in that case, and if it were too long, she would just leave him a note that she would like to speak with him. There was no rush, but now Minerva’s curiosity was piqued, and she wanted to know more about it all as soon as possible.

Minerva thought she could hear someone else on the stairs below, and as she rounded the landing between the third and second floors, she caught sight of Albus making the same turn between the first and second floors.

“Albus!”

Albus looked up. “Minerva! Is anything wrong?”

“No, nothing. I just wanted to speak with you. Do you have a moment? I know that you’re busy, but – ”

“Not too busy for you, my dear,” Albus responded. “I have done what I could for today, anyway, for the most part. I finished up the two letters to the staff and the Board of Governors and Gertie was owling them for me. So I can certainly spare a few minutes for the Head of Gryffindor!”

Minerva smiled. “Actually, it’s in conjunction with that that I want to speak to you. My being Head of Gryffindor, that is.”

“Let’s go up to my office, then.”

As they walked down the corridor toward the gargoyle, Minerva remembered why he had left the school.

“I’m sorry, Albus, I should have asked immediately. Did you get Robert’s letter?” she asked.

“Yes, my dear, I did. I have not read it, however, as I did not wish to do so in the middle of the Ministry.”

Minerva nodded in understanding. “If you would like, we can discuss this later and you can read your letter.”

“The letter will keep a short while longer, I think,” Albus said as the gargoyle opened to them.

Albus let Minerva go ahead of him, and when they reached the top of the stairs, he stepped lightly in front of her and opened the door for her. A wave of his wand, and the lamps were lit. It was still light out, but it had been an overcast day, and the dark clouds now gathering warned of an approaching storm. Indeed, looking out the window, Minerva could see grey sheets of rain falling over the distant, mist-covered mountains and the occasional flash of lightening, too far off for its thunder yet to be heard.

“It is good you were able to Apparate back before the storm hit. I know you are a strong Apparater, but if there’s lightning, it’s probably best to avoid it,” Minerva said.

Albus nodded. “I have had to Apparate either into or out of areas with thunderstorms on a few occasions. It is highly uncomfortable and does take a greater degree of concentration than usual. Fortunately, I have never Splinched. Nonetheless, I would avoid Apparating in such a storm unless I had no other option, either to wait or to travel in some other manner.”

Minerva was pleased when he didn’t make a move to sit behind his desk. It seemed perhaps he would, indeed, be more open with her now.

“I was curious about the wards, the rewarding, and my position as Head of Gryffindor,” Minerva said.

Albus smiled, eyes twinkling. “You are never curious about just one small thing, are you, my dear?”

“Well, as you said at the time, we should have guessed that my Animagus form might be a cat,” Minerva said, returning his smile.

“Do you have more specific questions, or would you prefer a long, rambling dissertation that might keep us here till midnight?” Albus teased.

Minerva shook her head, smiling, and said, “Specifically, I was wondering first, why Wilhelmina had participated in the warding and why I hadn’t been installed beforehand, and second, how it is that you can pass me the wards when I’ve never done anything with them, and third, what it is that I feel when you take them back again.”

“Hmm, well, in answer to your first question, Wilhelmina had taken part in the ward renewal before, as you know, and I thought it would be valuable for you to see at least part of it done before you participated the first time. Also, and this is connected to your second question, you do need to be introduced to the ward lattice before you can actually work with it – at the moment, you can make changes to the portrait network in Gryffindor Tower, but until you are introduced to the ward lattice and Hogwarts magic, you can’t manipulate the wards or the portrait network in the rest of the castle. I can, in theory, pass the wards to anyone, although only someone who is or once was a Hogwarts Head of House or Headmaster or Headmistress can manipulate them. So you could react to a change in the wards or to an alarm, but you cannot at this time make any changes yourself. In order for Gertrude to be an effective Deputy, I introduced her to the wards when she took her post. Normally that is only done for Heads of Houses. It is usual practice for the newly installed Head to be introduced to the Hogwarts magic and the ward lattice on the same day they are installed, but because I still had a few minor tweaks to perform, including helping Johannes with a minor problem with the Ravenclaw portrait network, and the others had organised a celebration for you, I thought there was no hurry and we could do it any time between then and the first of September. Does that answer your questions?

“Yes, although I don’t understand the mechanics of the transfer and only remember what little I was told that summer that I worked on the wards with you and Gertrude.”

“I think it would be most helpful if you were to read the section on the warding that is in the Gryffindor book. Only the explanation in the Ravenclaw book is more thorough than the one there. After you have read that, you can ask me any specific questions you may have. Does that suit?”

“That’s fine – it makes complete sense, in fact. But what of my third question?”

“Your third – ah! What it is that you experience when I take the wards back – without a description of what you experience, I don’t know as I have any explanation, except to say that passing the wards to you is rather passive, as though you were standing there and I placed a scarf around your neck. You notice the scarf, but you needn’t do anything, and it’s a fairly unremarkable experience. On the other hand, when the wards return to me – unless you pass them to me – I am actually reaching out and taking them from you. They have had a little time to settle into your magic, and so you notice when I reach out and take them away – as though I am pulling on many small strings until they all snap back to me. I haven’t known anyone who claimed it to be more than slightly uncomfortable at the worst, and it’s usually just as I told you earlier, a slight sense of pressure against your magic, as though the air pressure had increased, then a bit of a breeze passing through your magic, then a sensation of lightness. Was it particularly uncomfortable for you, my dear? If it was, perhaps simply introducing you to the wards will ameliorate that effect.”

“No, and now I think I understand why I didn’t experience it quite as you said I would, since I know now that you are reaching out and taking them back. I am just surprised that I should feel it when you are so far away from me.” Her brow furrowed.

“What was it you felt, then?” Albus asked.

“You know that I said that I have sometimes used the musical metaphor when thinking of the way your magic feels, that I understood when you spoke of harmony and instruments playing in the same key?” When he nodded, Minerva continued, “Well, I am often able to sense your magic; even as a student, I was quite aware of it, despite not normally being particularly perceptive that way. At the time, I put it down to . . . to having so much familiarity with your magic from working with you, but now I see that it may have just as much to do with the fact that our magic resonates well together, as you put it – that whatever it is about our magical signatures that drew us both to these wands, or our wands to us, allows me to sense your magic in a way that I don’t usually sense the magic of others.”

“Yes, I see that – it actually crossed my mind after the occasion upon which you were able to sense my presence in the classroom during your tutoring session, but I said nothing of it, as I was not yet going to tell you of our wands,” Albus said, nodding. “But what does that have to do with your third question?”

“I could feel your magic as clearly as if we were touching and you were performing some spell nearby. It was . . . loud, to carry through on the music metaphor. Not unpleasant, merely unexpected, and I could feel that it was your magic passing through mine in this rushing way, more like a fast mountain stream than the gentle breeze that you described. And then there was the lightness that you mentioned, but I also felt cold afterwards – not physically, and it didn’t last, but . . .” Minerva shrugged.

“How very unusual.” Albus thought a moment. “Do you mind an experiment, Minerva? I don’t think there’s any danger to it. The usual way of passing the wards back and forth involves having the two individuals in physical proximity and using both wands. I have found that inconvenient, and after so many years of manipulating the wards, it is certainly just as easy for me to do it the way that I do. But I would like to see what you would experience if we were to pass the wards in the traditional manner.”

Minerva nodded. “I would be interested, too.”

Continued in the next post!

[MMADfan]

Continued from the previous post!

CXXV: Reverberations, continued

Albus stood and she followed suit. “You need your wand out, my dear, and I, mine,” Albus said. “There we are. I will do it nonverbally as it’s a bit faster that way. Now hold your wand up, yes, like that.”

Albus raised his wand, holding it at an angle to Minerva’s, and a moment later, she felt a vibration in the soles of her feet and an itching in her palms.

Albus raised his eyebrows. “Well?”

“It was much the same, although slightly more intense. The other times, I felt a mild tickling in my palms and a vibration in the soles of my feet; this time, my palms seemed to itch for a moment.” She shrugged.

“All right, my dear, now we will try it with me taking them back. Just stand just as you were a moment ago and this time, set your mind with the notion that you are allowing me to regain control of the wards, almost in the way that you form intent when casting a spell.”

Minerva nodded. Albus raised his wand, pointing it straight up, then with a twist of his wrist, pointed the wandtip toward Minerva and then back toward himself.

“Oh!” Minerva gasped, and for a moment, she thought she might faint, not from lightheadedness, but from the sudden intense sensation of beauty surrounding her. She shivered, then blinked.

“Minerva! Are you all right? That wasn’t supposed to happen. I’ve never seen such a thing!” He reached out a hand to her.

“I am fine – what do you mean? I am afraid that whatever I was experiencing distracted me, and I didn’t really notice what happened.”

“First, you sit, then tell me what you experienced. Are you sure you are all right?” Albus asked, his concern evident.

“Quite fine, Albus. Although . . . it’s silly, but I wish we could do that again,” she said, blushing despite herself.

Albus furrowed his brow. “What happened?”

“It was, just for a moment, it was as though I heard, or felt, the most beautiful music and I saw . . . it was like a kaleidoscope of colours, beautiful, brilliant colour, but I could still see the room, it was just colour overlaying everything, and then there was a rushing sensation and I was surrounded by warmth and softness, and a bubbly tingling, and then it rushed away again, and was all gone and I felt . . . cold.” She blushed again. “It’s hard to describe. It was like that and it wasn’t. I don’t know as I really saw anything, or heard anything, for that matter, but it felt like that to me.”

“I think it best if we do not transfer the wards using our wands again until I am certain that I have not harmed you in some way, Minerva.”

“I feel absolutely fine now, Albus. And it was quite pleasant.” It was more than pleasant. Minerva thought that if it had continued, it would have been quite literally orgasmic. But that was something she certainly could not tell him.

“Mmm, perhaps, but it sounds more invasive than it should have been. I want to be certain that I am not having a negative effect on your magic or in some way, as unlikely as it would be, binding your magic to mine. Highly unlikely, of course, particularly given that there is no intent to do so, but I would rather be cautious. Although passing the wards certainly has become so mundane as to seem nothing more than passing the Quaffle, some of the wards themselves possess a deep and ancient magic, and they may be having some unexpected effects that are only being triggered because we are possessed of mated wands.”

“It could be partly the wands, but it could also just be the nature of your magic and mine. Perhaps even if you were to use a different wand, I would feel the same effect, just not to the same degree. I am, after all, more aware of your magic than is usual for me,” Minerva said.

“You may very well be right, Minerva, but I would rather wait. And now . . . I had some thought, when you mentioned it to me, that I might introduce you to the wards this evening, as it doesn’t take very long, but I think I would prefer to wait until I have had time to do some research and perhaps perform some experiments. I may wish to borrow your wand for a few hours one day, if you permit me.”

“Of course, Albus, whatever you think best. And just let me know when you would like the use of my wand – I can have a nap or something and let Blampa spoil me the way she thinks she ought to,” Minerva said with a grin.

“I am sure that we will be able to introduce you to the wards. The worst case scenario, I will use a different wand, or even have someone else perform the introduction, although that is not ideal. Although I do believe that I could trust Gertrude to do it correctly, or even Johannes or Horace, for that matter. But it would be best if I were to do it. It is one of the very few rituals formally approved by the Ministry that involves active blood-letting, and it is very important that it be performed properly. I would far prefer to do it myself, particularly . . .”

“Particularly?” Minerva asked, still trying to comprehend that this introduction that Albus had spoken of so lightly involved active blood-letting, usually associated only with the Darkest Arts, and with concern that there might be a very good reason for Albus not to trust it to someone else.

Albus looked up at her. He smiled slightly. “I have felt somewhat responsible for your well-being for a very long time, Minerva. I would simply not wish anything to go awry.”

“Is this business about the . . . the active blood-letting in the Gryffindor book, too?” Minerva asked, wondering why no one had said anything to her about it before.

“Oh, yes, it’s mentioned briefly by Gryffindor himself, and then there are a few remarks by some of the other former Heads of House. Of course, in Gryffindor’s time, it was not viewed in the same way that it is now. It wasn’t treated lightly, of course, because of the power behind any magic involving active blood-letting – or the use of any human blood, for that matter – but there weren’t the taboos upon it that there are now, and you would find a crofter using a blood ward on his home as casually as you and I cast an Anti-Apparition ward on our homes. More casually, in fact, as often the accompanying spells were not as complex or difficult as the ones we use today.”

“Yes, I had known that – I did attend Hogwarts, after all, and it would hardly be the ‘preeminent institution of wizarding education’ on the British Isles if I hadn’t picked that up somewhere along the way,” Minerva answered. “But you said something wasn’t supposed to happen – what was that? I’m afraid I was distracted by what I was experienced and didn’t notice anything else.”

“There was an echo between our wands, resulting in a rather interesting luminance. There is not supposed to be any visible radiance when this spell is performed properly, not without intending it, and I certainly did not intend it.”

“Was that what I saw, then?” Minerva asked.

“From what you say, you saw multiple colours that completely dominated your visual field.” Minerva nodded in response, and Albus continued, “This was primarily golden and was concentrated in a two-foot radius around our wands. What you experienced was internally generated, which is why I am concerned about what I may have done that had such an effect.”

“I think it was just the experience of your magic reaching into mine and reverberating that created it, that’s all,” Minerva answered. “I understand your concern, and appreciate it, but I don’t share it. Still, you need to do whatever it is to make certain of that, and that’s fine. But about this introduction to the wards . . . I’m sure it can’t be dangerous if generation upon generation of Heads have taken part in it, but I’m still leery of it, even with you in charge of it. More leery of any side-effects than of the ritual itself.”

“That is natural, my dear, and rest assured that it really is quite simple, as concerned as I am that it be done properly. It barely calls for any blood at all. It is just important that it be fresh and actively flowing when the ritual is performed. It’s just the slightest prick to the tip of one finger and a small dot of blood, and the pricking can be done magically without interfering with the rite, although there was a copper knife that was used for the purpose for a very long time, and that was what I used when I became Headmaster, just to honour tradition, in a matter of speaking.”

“Oh! When I think of active blood-letting, I think of, I don’t know, large gashes and subsequent copious haemorrhaging,” Minerva said, relieved.

“Oh, no, nothing like that at all; it never has been. Even if we were to use the copper knife – or any blade – we would still only require a small drop, and it needn’t be arterial blood, as in some of the oldest rituals,” Albus explained. “And it not only introduces you to the castle’s magic and the wards, but this ritual is what allows you both to draw on Hogwarts magic and to manipulate the wards; it also strengthens the Hogwarts magical field, which, in turn, lends support to the ward lattice. If anything, you will be donating more of your magic to the castle in this rite than blood, far more, though it should not prove a problem. You shouldn’t be any more tired afterward than you would be if you demonstrated a few basic spells to one of your classes. If you are, it is because of an error on my part and too much was drawn off – which is one of the reasons I want to do certain tests first to determine whether the amplification effect of our wands will prove a problem. I doubt very much that there could be any negative effects, but I want to be certain before we do the introduction.”

Minerva smiled. “That’s fine, then. Has anyone every balked at the ritual? And if so, wouldn’t it be better to mention it before the person is installed?”

“The information about the blood-letting isn’t precisely secret, but it is arcane and something that is not advertised, so to speak. I imagine that there may have been some who were uneasy with it, but I am unaware of any cases in which a Head, once installed, refused to participate in the ritual. And such a thing would have had to have been recorded if it ever did occur, simply because only after the introduction can an individual participate in the rewarding, and there hasn’t been a Head of House who has never participated in at least one. Except for Dagobert Farrier. But that is because he was killed just days after his installation and never had the opportunity.”

“Who was Dagobert Farrier?” Minerva asked, intrigued.

“A Hufflepuff Head of House in the early seventeenth century,”Albus answered. “He was killed by a jealous husband, apparently. Nothing to do with Hogwarts at all.”

“Ah . . . well, I do hope we are able to perform the introduction soon. Now that I know about it, I feel as though I’m not genuinely Head of Gryffindor yet.”

“You are, my dear, completely. Your name is in the Gryffindor book, after all, and that is the most important part. We will get the rest sorted out, I promise.”

Albus’s smile was so warm, Minerva felt as though her heart was going to leap from her chest, and she was overcome with the urge to go to him and embrace him, lean against him and feel his arms around her. Instead, she merely suggested calling for some supper.

“I am not particularly hungry, Minerva, but feel free to call Wilspy for something, if you like. I will be happy to keep you company.”

“No, I’m not very hungry, either. What about your letter?” she asked.

Albus sighed. “Yes, I do want to read it this evening.”

“Would you like me to leave? If you would like to read it privately, I understand,” Minerva said.

Albus shook his head and pulled the letter from his pocket. “No need for that . . .”

Minerva watched as Albus unfolded the parchment, the seal having already been broken by the Ministry officials. It was growing even darker as the storm approached, and Minerva lit another lamp for him to read by. As Albus read, his mouth became a grim line, and Minerva could see tears welling up in his eyes. When he was done, he held the letter loosely on his lap for a moment and looked away with unseeing eyes.

Finally, he took a breath and said, “If you would like to read it . . .”

“If it is private – ” Minerva began.

“It is, but you are not the public, my dear, and you . . . I do not know if Robert would have objected, but I do not.” He handed her the letter.

“4 August 1957

“Dear Albus,

“I want to thank you for your kindness, generosity, and hard work. Please know that I do appreciate it although I will not avail myself of it.

“Robert Pretnick, the Robert Pretnick whom you knew and whom you hired to teach at Hogwarts, died on the twelfth of July, bitten by a werewolf. I, who write you this letter, am a mere ghost in a shell. I know all that you have said about my life and my future, but my life ended when the werewolf took it from me. For all the good that you say I may yet do, I fear more the evil that will emerge three days a month, every month, until the day I die. If I live another fifty or sixty years, as the Healers have told me I might, that is six hundred-fifty opportunities for this evil within me to strike and curse another victim or, no better, to kill. To be safe every full moon, for three times six hundred and fifty of them, I do not believe that is likely. Possible, but not likely. How could I live with myself if I were to awaken after a full moon to discover that I had killed or infected another? And you know that a werewolf’s favoured target is a young child – to deprive a child from its family, or to deprive the child of a normal life, that would be far worse than death to me. I think of my own nephew, Matthew, and what it would do to our family if he were killed or so cursed, and I know that I cannot risk this happening to any child or any family.

“I am very glad that I was able to help Bertie Higgs and his family, and to save them from the fate that befell me and the poor creature whom I was forced to slay. He is a fine boy; my role in the family’s escape eases my heart, and I know that my life has been well-lived, even in its last hour.

“Please do not mourn me, or if you do, remember this: your care and kindness eased these dying days, for, indeed, I have been moribund now for weeks. Remember, too, that I do not die in despair, though some may see it that way, but in gratitude for what little good I have been able to accomplish in my life and that my death was in service to others. No other death could be happier for one who is a proud Gryffindor. I know that Professor McGonagall has been named our new Head of House; please pass on to her my warmest congratulations. I am proud to draw my last breath knowing that our House is in her care. Her visits in St. Mungo’s were very welcome, and I thank her for them.

“Please give my regards to all my former colleagues, and express my deepest gratitude to them for all of the heartfelt work they did on my behalf. I am thankful. If you are able to see my mother and my sister and her family, please tell them that I love them and hold them in my soul as I go.

“Good-bye, Albus. I am sure we will see each other again sometime, wherever it is that Gryffies go to play when they depart this world.

“Yours sincerely,

“Robert J. Pretnick”

“Oh, Albus . . .” Minerva whispered.

“We will have a private memorial service for the staff on Tuesday,” Albus said softly. “I added that to the letters we sent out today. I have asked those who are able, to return to the school by tomorrow afternoon. We will have a brief staff meeting at three o’clock. That will give you and me time to deliver Robert’s letter to his relatives.”

“Albus . . .”

“I am aware that Professor Dustern was unpleasant to you the other day. Gertrude informed me. But I felt it was only right to invite her, as well, in the event that she would like to join her former colleagues for the memorial. I do not believe that she and Robert were close, but she taught him when he was a student. She may be affected.”

“Albus, how are you, though . . . this letter. It is,” Minerva swallowed and took a breath, then continued, “it is very sad. Whatever he may say, I doubt that you are at peace with what he did.”

Albus shook his head. “I do not agree with his reasoning, his conclusions, or his final action, but I do appreciate his sentiment and I understand why he did as he did. I still feel that there must have been something more I could have done . . . but the time for that is past,” he said with a sigh.

“You may talk to me about it, you know.” Minerva said.

A faint smile crossed Albus’s lips. “I know, my dear. You are a treasure – ” He stopped himself. “I do appreciate it. But I will be fine. Truly.”

“Albus, you have said that to me before, on other occasions,” Minerva objected. “I do not know if you really are fine.”

“I said I will be fine, my dear. And I will be. I simply . . . I simply do not wish to discuss it right now.”

Minerva nodded, but her own eyes filled with tears. It was a combination of Robert’s letter, Albus’s clear rejection of her offer of comfort, despite all he had shared with her the night before, her own sadness, and sheer exhaustion. She rejected Albus’s offer of a handkerchief, and fumbled for her own, then wiped her eyes.

“I will be fine, too, Albus,” she said evenly, standing. “I know you have a lot to do. I will leave you to it.”

“Wait, Minerva – ” Albus stood and reached for her. “You needn’t go. I . . . I may not want to talk, but I do welcome your company. And if you would like to talk . . . .”

Minerva shook her head, but made no move to leave. How could he tell her all he had of his past, weeping in remembered pain and sorrow, and then the next day, reject her offer of comfort for present grief? He had seemed to share so much of himself, and now, he would share nothing.

“Ah, Minerva, do not leave like this . . . so upset . . .”

Minerva turned away from him, and his hand caught her arm as thunder reverberated from the hills and lightning struck the loch with a sharp crack.

“I will be fine, just as you will be. I have things to do, myself,” she said in a low voice.

“Minerva.” Albus stepped toward her. “Minerva. Please.”

Hearing those words, she could not leave, and she turned back to him. Seeing his bright blue eyes saddened so, she could not go, and she stepped in and put her arms around him, leaning into him, relishing the steady thrumming of his magic and the solid warmth of his body as his arms went around her.

“I just . . . you know I love you . . . I cannot leave you like this,” Minerva whispered.

Albus nodded mutely, seeming to hold his breath; Minerva waited, then let go and stepped back.

“But perhaps I ought to leave,” she said. “We are both tired, and we have an unhappy task tomorrow – if you still want me with you in the morning.”

“Of course I do; there is no question about that. I will call for you at eight o’clock.”

Minerva nodded and went towards the door. Albus opened it with a wave of his hand.

As Minerva stepped through the door, Albus said, very softly, “I am sorry I am not what you wish me to be, Minerva. . . . I hope you sleep well.”

Minerva paused, her back to him, and nodded. “Good night, Albus.”

When she was gone, the door shut behind her, Albus slumped back into his chair and held his head in his hands. He could not do this anymore. It was like walking on the edge of a cliff in the dark. Soon, one day, he would slip and not be able to recover. Albus wished Minerva had stayed, though he thought it wisest for them both that she hadn’t. He had asked her to stay, and he should not have, and despite wishing that he had asked her again and had not let her leave, he believed it was for the best that she had gone when she did. How he had wanted to ask her again to remain with him, how he wanted to hear her voice and to seek comfort in her embrace, but when he thought of holding her, he thought of never letting her go, and when she relaxed in his arms and said that she loved him, it broke his heart, but better his heart be broken than her trust in him. She still loved him despite what she had learned the night before, but Albus did not know if that affection, or any affection, for him would survive if she knew of his desire for her. She would be disgusted, and become more disgusted, he was sure, as she remembered his youthful indulgences and disgrace. He loved her and did not want her to ever think that he had the same impulses toward her that he had acted upon as a young man, impulses which could hardly even have been called feelings, they had been so devoid of emotion or even of desire. No, better for her to think that he did not fully appreciate her than for her to believe that he harboured such desire, such passion, for her.

Albus sat there long, listening to the rain beat sharp against the Tower windows and the thunder reverberating in the hills, and he closed his mind to all but the storm outside.

---

Next: "Unsolicited Advice"

[Hogwarts Duo]

Minerva as Deputy Headmistress?? I do believe that Hogwarts, A History has a bit of Divination magic stored within its pages. I’m glad Minerva is toying with the idea of possibly becoming the next Deputy Head. The more she has time to get accustomed to the idea, the faster she’ll be able to give Albus the answer he wants when he asks.

“I feel absolutely fine now, Albus. And it was quite pleasant.” It was more than pleasant. Minerva thought that if it had continued, it would have been quite literally orgasmic. But that was something she certainly could not tell him.

Oh, she could tell him and I bet it would speed things along quite nicely, as a matter of fact! I couldn’t help but think that maybe she should suggest that they transfer the wards back and forth a few more times…just to…practice. Tee hee! Of course, when she began panting and writhing before him, it might be a bit provocative but I’m sure our lovely Albus could dream up a few ways to help alleviate her symptoms. Can you tell where my mind is this morning???

Albus looked up at her. He smiled slightly. “I have felt somewhat responsible for your well-being for a very long time, Minerva. I would simply not wish anything to go awry.”

Awww, what a very husband-lover like thing to say. I think that was his way of letting her know that he truly does care for her, no matter what his actions might indicate. I feel sorry for Albus in some respects. He’s trying to be the noble Victorian wizard but his desires and needs are pulling him towards something more in harmony with his heart. It’s like he’s torn inside and it’s killing him slowly, just as Minerva’s denial is supposed to do to her eventually to her joy.

“I am aware that Professor Dustern was unpleasant to you the other day. Gertrude informed me…

Oh what I wouldn’t have given to be a fly on the wall when that conversation took place!!! I hope she told Albus exactly what Dustern said. Maybe that will come up later??? It would be interesting to see his spin on Dustern’s assumptions.

“I just . . . you know I love you . . . I cannot leave you like this,” Minerva whispered.

Albus nodded mutely, seeming to hold his breath; Minerva waited, then let go and stepped back…

As Minerva stepped through the door, Albus said, very softly, “I am sorry I am not what you wish me to be, Minerva. . . . I hope you sleep well.”

Minerva paused, her back to him, and nodded. “Good night, Albus.”

That section was incredibly sad. Minerva is trying so hard to get Albus to see that she loves him and yet he’s so scared of letting himself explore the idea of her loving him. I can see why she grew upset with him and was storming out of his office. I would most likely have done the same thing. It can’t be easy for her to tell him twice now that she loves him, only to be met with fondness and then nothingness from the man she loves. But then he comes back with an apology for not being what she wanted him to be. That is incredibly sad and I wish he could see that she loves him because of and even in spite of everything she knows about him and his life.

Albus sat there long, listening to the rain beat sharp against the Tower windows and the thunder reverberating in the hills, and he closed his mind to all but the storm outside.

I love how you used the storm as a background metaphor for the emotions swirling around Albus and Minerva in this chapter. I think the most poignant one was when he touched her arm just as the thunder clapped loudly and the lightning struck the lake. It’s that sort of writing and theme use that makes reading your chapters so enjoyable.

Keep up the great work!!!

TTFN,
GLM

[minerva62]

Thanks for this wonderful update! Though this was sad again and Albus is so torn...

As you mention current music in your journal entries, I imagine the current music in Albus' office after Minerva's departure to be 'Listen to the Rain' by Eric Andersen...

I'll be away for the weekend and I'm looking forward to an update when I return on Sunday night...

[MMADfan]

minerva62 said:

Thanks for this wonderful update! Though this was sad again and Albus is so torn...

As you mention current music in your journal entries, I imagine the current music in Albus' office after Minerva's departure to be 'Listen to the Rain' by Eric Andersen...

I'll be away for the weekend and I'm looking forward to an update when I return on Sunday night...

Slightly (!) anachronistic . . . and not precisely the right mood . . . but a cute notion. (Hmmm . . . . Maybe something like "Night on Bald Mountain," or something from the Pier Gynt Suites. Mussorgsky and Grieg are great for setting a sombre mood . . .)

I'm not entirely certain when I'll have the next update for you, but I hope it will be before you return for the weekend. I'm restructuring the next chapters some . . . . It's taking a bit of time.

Glad you liked the chapter!

[MMADfan]

The answers are up on my LJ for the second RaM-game! See how well you did! There will be another one posted tonight: "When they were kids." It should be fun, but I think it's the toughest one yet. I'll be interested to see how well people remember certain things, especially little details.

I'm glad you're having fun with them!

*EDIT* Game #3 is up now, "When they were kids . . ." Have fun!

[dianahawthorne]

Oh, that was such a great chapter! The letter was so sad! I'm glad Minerva was there when Albus read it. And the transfer of the bonds when they used their wands was so cool! I do wish that Albus hadn't rejected Minerva's offer of comfort - and I hope that the next chapter gives us her point of view. Great job!

[tabbykittenkat]

ahhh!!! that was really really good. the letter was really sad yeah, and evil Albus...he should totally know that she would love him still.

“I just . . . you know I love you . . . I cannot leave you like this,” Minerva whispered.

Albus nodded mutely, seeming to hold his breath; Minerva waited, then let go and stepped back…

As Minerva stepped through the door, Albus said, very softly, “I am sorry I am not what you wish me to be, Minerva. . . . I hope you sleep well.”

Minerva paused, her back to him, and nodded. “Good night, Albus.”

that was sad, but in a way, adorable. I love where this is going, LOVE IT!!!
<3
[glow=red,2,300]tabby kitten kat[/glow]

[jrs]

The description of the wards is fascinating. I can't wait to find out what's causing the funky ward feelings when Albus takes them back! ;-) O.k. - I'm a teacher - and I told my students today that I was going to buy the poster that has a circle on it with the words "Bang head here" inside it. It's going on the wall at school and now I beleive at home, too!!! Albus and Minerva are soooooo blind?, oblivious? ....just plain stubborn?! I donno. haha.

Great update, though! ;-)

[esoterica1693]

I have read this chapter twice, the first time at work. And cried twice. It is Minerva's line to Albus, "I cannot leave you like this," which gets me. No wonder Albus's heart broke when she said that.

I hope whomever it is who gives him unsolicited advice in the next chapter really is firm and specific w/ him. I do appreciate his reasoning. But he's committing the same error he did when delivering Carson's letter so many years ago--by focusing on guarding his own feelings he's rejecting Minerva *and failing in his duty as a dear friend to comfort her.* And he's ignoring the lesson he learned from Nyima's village--that it is necessary to be able to *accept* help and love and be vulnerable if one is to be emotionally mature.

Poor Pretnick. What he did makes much more sense now, and hopefully his letters will bring some comfort to his friends and family. It is very appropriate that the Head of Gryffindor visit his family.

I suspect that Minerva is really going to pull away from Albus now emotionally (not professionally, of course), to keep from being hurt any more. He has really hurt her deeply this time. Amplified by their mutual exhaustion and by the experience of the ward transfers, especially that last one. Talk about being 'emotionally labile!' Of course Albus doesn't know that Minerva experienced that transfer as almost as intimate and powerful as sex. No wonder his subsequent rejection of her comfort hurt so much.

[sevherfan]

Oh christ, what we all need is a little Gertie, especially Albus. And it isn't just the chapter title that makes me wish it was her. Clearly she's Albus's other ward confidant, so it isn't so far-fetched that he would ask her for a little advice or why she thinks it is that the wards behave so oddly. She won't even need to calculate anything, just get her Gertie-smile going and as Hogwarts Duo suggests, tell him to go carry out a couple more experiments. As we've just seen more evidence that she's Minerva's secret ally, I wouldn't put it past her.

I had to start with the outraged at Albus part first, because I'm way less emotional than esoterica1693 and needed to quickly move past that moment of wanting to cry to being crazed. That was awful for Minerva. Atleast he had the good sense to stop her from leaving three times. If he hadn't tried that... I would have wanted her to hold it against him for atleast 10 chapters. But doesn't he realize a girl can only stick her neck out so many times before she can't anymore?? Although maybe all the practice of saying it will .. AGH, I'm getting crazed again.

I don't know how minerva62 can possibly wait til Sunday for an update. I will DIE if I don't get one soon. DIE, MMADfan, DIE. Like Daniel's dad.

[esoterica1693]

mmadfan said:

Albus said, very softly, “I am sorry I am not what you wish me to be, Minerva. . . . I hope you sleep well.”

Okay, here's my unsolicited advice:
"Umm, Albus, she never said or thought any such thing....YOU are the one who are so deathly afraid that you are not what she wishes (or thinks) you to be. The only thing keeping you from being exactly what she wishes you to be is your infernal conviction of your own unworthiness and your shame about your youth."

It's a shame that Albus is so scrupulous in his use of legilimency--a peek into Minerva's mind would be most illuminating and helpful right about now! Of course invading her mind would also offend her.

It is interesting that someone who is such an accomplished legilimens is so oblivious to the emotions swirling w/in someone he counts as a close friend and has known for 20 yrs. I would think that even w/o legilimency he should be able to pick up on her emotions with a bit more clarity and accuracy than he is doing. Just shows how wedded he is to his own inaccurate understanding of himself and the situation.

[JKMcGonagall]

I think that Albus needs that poster that says 'BANG HEAD HERE!'.

He needs to mount it in his office and bang his head against it until he comes to the conclusion that Minerva can love him, and he can love her, and THE WORLD WON'T END because of it. Ok, that rants out of the way now.

I have been reading this story for so long now. I haven't actively posted here on the board in a long time. I have written a few stories that are posted here, mostly on the challenge board, however, my writing cannot even hold a candle to yours...you are most talented. I find myself waiting breathlessly for each new update.

I loved the wards and what Minerva felt was absolutely amazing. The imagery of the storm at the end and their little misunderstanding (again) was quite awesome. Hopefully, Gertie will help them both to get back on the right track (toward each other) in the next chapter.

I don't know if this is the lowest point that they are supposed to hit or not, but they are both pretty down now. Somehow, it seems to me (just my theory personally) that it is going to take a major catastrophe, such as one of them almost losing their life, before they can both admit to each other what their feelings really are. Of course, Minerva is further along with admitting hers to Albus. Quin and Gertie have been a real blessing and help there. Albus just needs to be able to really hear what she is saying and believe it can happen. He is so insecure, and his past haunts him so.

Of course, I can't wait for the next update. Make it soon, please.

JKMcGonagall
Kay

[MMADfan]

I'm glad that folks have enjoyed this last chapter so much! It seems to have inspired a lot of rain-reminiscent musical associations -- here and on ffnet. There are a lot of songs about rain, aren't there? There's a great Dar Williams song, Another Mystery, which isn't precisely a "rain" song, but which has a great line in it about standing in the rain . . . anyway, that's enough of a digression! (Anyone else here a Dar Williams fan?)

Both Minerva and Albus are hurting, but their difficulties stem from different places, and, as someone pointed out, Minerva has had a lot more help over the last few weeks from various people -- Quin and Gertie, of course, but also her parents and others.

There will be more happy moments between them, but we are on our way to the turning point, which will be painful, but which will lead them back to each other.

The next little RaM-based game, "When They Were Kids," is up on my LJ now. It's short, but fun, I think! The answers for the previous two have been posted, as well.

Here are the questions -- pop on over to the LJ and post your responses, if you feel so inclined -- we have one set of guesses already!

RaM GAME #3

When they were kids . . .

1. When Melina was a child, she enjoyed . . .

a. watching her Grandmother Egeria at work.
b. catching doxies and keeping them as pets in her wardrobe until they became hungry.
c. Muggle-watching.
d. mixing up her father’s potions ingredients and confusing him.

2. When Albus was a boy, his father used to tell him

a. “A Knut saved is a Knut earned.”
b. “You’ll never amount to anything.”
c. “The world does not revolve around you.”
d. “You are the best and the brightest.”

3. When Minerva was a little girl, she used to

a. have tea parties with the house-elves.
b. pretend she was a Muggle-born, switched-at-birth.
c. play chess with Fwisky.
d. toss garden gnomes for fun.

4. When Murdoch was a boy, he used to

a. play dress-up in his mother’s robes.
b. be cruel to the family house-elves.
c. experiment with potions in his playroom.
d. sneak into the nearest Muggle village to smoke cigarettes.

5. When Quin was a boy, he

a. sat under a hedge and learned nonsense from an old hag.
b. played Quidditch daily.
c. wrote sonnets.
d. learned to use “free magic.”

6. When Malcolm was in school, he

a. used to sneak into the Slytherin dormitory and play pranks.
b. used to go on unauthorised excursions in the Forbidden Forest.
c. swam with the Giant Squid.
d. earned a reputation as a cad.

7. When Albus was in school, he thought

a. he would be Headmaster one day.
b. he was better than his peers.
c. school was a waste of time.
d. he would lead a quiet, solitary life.

8. Aberforth can remember when he was a little boy,

a. his father swinging him by his arms.
b. his father giving him his first Quaffle.
c. his mother preferring his brother.
d. his father holding him on his lap and reading him a bedtime story.

9. When Minerva was a girl,

a. she never wanted to grow up.
b. she was impatient to grow up.
c. she was afraid to go to Hogwarts.
d. she found lessons with her father boring.

10. When Albus was a boy, the most important thing to him was,

a. money.
b. prestige.
c. learning.
d. kindness.

-/-/-/-

I will update RaM sometime this weekend! Go read some of the other great ADMM fics here -- or go read my little one-shots which are languishing, sad and lonely! Haha! Or check out some "real" literature -- maybe start with Nabokov's Pnin, or, if that's not your speed, maybe some Vonnegut -- Slaughterhouse-Five would make the visits to the past in RaM seem dully discursive! LOL!

[lexilioness]

Hello...
I've been following your story religiously since ... well I don't know exactly. Around chapter 70 on ff.net. Therefore I think it's about time I left a comment
Thankyou so much for this story. So often fanfiction is written for the sake of it, and is just fluffy rubbish. But this is fantastic writing. Congratulations on such a wonderful effort and thankyou for bringing so much entertainment to all your readers days!
I'm waiting excitedly for the next chapter!
Lexi

[Merriam]

I'm not sure if this is the point at which I'm supposed to want to AK you . . . I hope so. I can't imagine Minerva experiencing any more pain right now without going completely mad! No matter what you have in mind, though, I will always remain a loyal and eager reader. And, of course, the suspense just makes a story all the more fun to read.

I LOVE the way this story is playing out. I get so frustrated when characters go from being almost-strangers one day to lovers the next. Your portrayal of their slowly-developing relationship feels so right and natural, the characters feel so flawed and human, that I must say that RaM is larger than life. It's very reassuring to know that, no matter the darkness lying ahead, Albus and Minerva will end up together (soon-ish). RIGHT?

As always, I eagerly await the next installment.

[MMADfan]

Note: Not DH-compliant!

I'm very glad that everyone responded so well to the last chapter and seemed to find it moving at different points. And I loved hearing from those who popped out of lurkdom to comment! ;D

Don't forget the little RaM-based games on my LJ -- the answers are up for the first two, if you'd like to check your guesses. The people who posted did really well!

Posted in two parts because of length.

CXXVI: Unsolicited Advice

Hearing neither the rain nor even the thunder, Minerva sat at the desk in her study, her quill in her hand, but she wrote nothing. She had letters yet to respond, but her mind seemed a blank. All that she could hear were Albus’s final words to her, I am sorry I am not who you wish me to be, Minerva.

Albus could not know what she wished from him, not what she truly wanted, but he was able tell that she did want something more from him, and it pained him. At least, Minerva hoped that he had no idea what it was she wanted from him, from their relationship. Given his obviously friendly affection for her, his almost paternal feelings, what would he do if he learned of her own overwhelming love for him? But Albus still wanted her to accompany him in the morning. Whatever he thought, or guessed, about the pathetic state of her emotions, he had not changed his mind about that – despite the fact that she had tried to pressure him to talk about something he did not wish to discuss. She had made her need for him to talk to her more important than his own comfort. And that was not what she wanted. Not at all.

Minerva closed her eyes and breathed a strained breath out. She should have just let him be. Albus may not have wanted to talk about it, but he had wanted her to stay. She should have stayed. Instead, she had left him, alone and feeling as though he were lacking, feeling worse than he would have felt if she had said and done nothing. He had already had dreadful news that day after a very long, emotionally exhausting night. It wasn’t as though she didn’t understand the desire not to talk about something, to let something rest a while before talking about it. She had waited fifteen years, after all, to speak to anyone of her feelings for Albus, and she still had never properly discussed her magical accident with anyone. And after her mission in France and Carson’s death, her parents had tried to get her to talk, and she wouldn’t. And then after Albus’s visit, they had been even more concerned about her. She knew that, she had seen it, and she knew that they wanted her to talk. But if her parents had hounded her about it . . . tried to insist that she talk about it before she was ready, she would have gone to stay with Murdoch, she was sure. But shared grief and pain . . . that was something different, wasn’t it?

No . . . it had still been wrong to press him. Albus hadn’t wanted to discuss his feelings at that moment. Perhaps he wouldn’t have wanted to discuss them with anyone. She should have done as Gertie had advised and just let him take his time and come to her. And to love him. But it was so difficult to love him and not to show him how very much she did, and she didn’t know how to do that. Her attempt to get him to talk was a substitute for what she had really wanted to do: take him in her arms and hold him.

Now, too, Minerva had no doubt that Quin had been wrong. Albus didn’t harbour any hidden love for her. Oh, he did love her, but as he had when she was a child. He had practically said that there in his office. Something about having felt somewhat responsible for her well-being for a long time . . . his feelings stretched back to her days as a student, and she had no indication from him that these feelings had changed at all. Even when she told him that she loved him . . . he might as well tell her she was a good girl again. But that was foolishness. Albus had said and done nothing wrong. She simply had expectations that were unreasonable, not only that, but he didn’t have the slightest idea what her expectations were, and she had no ability to tell him.

It seemed to Minerva as though each time that she felt closer to Albus and the more she enjoyed his company, the more she would afterward feel even further from him and as though it were impossible to even be in his presence. Is this what Quin meant about her joy dying? If it was, then she was helping to kill it. She had to accept what relationship she and Albus actually had and not try to force things to be other than they were. If she did push too hard, she was bound to say or do something that would be dreadfully embarrassing for them both, as if she hadn’t already done so that evening.

The storm outside was letting up, although rain still pattered against the window pane. Minerva pulled her parchment toward her.

“Dear Albus,

“I am sorry I left as I did. It has been a long day, and just as long for you. I should have been more understanding. We did have a nice lunch, though, and I enjoyed discussing the wards with you. I hope you will remember that, and not just my later irritability.

“Since we have to leave so early in the morning, I thought perhaps you might want to join me for a quick breakfast first, if that fits in with your plans.

“I hope you will call on me over the next few days if you need any assistance with anything.

“Sleep well!

“Yours,

“Minerva”

Minerva wanted to tell him that she loved him as he was – and she did, though she wished their relationship could be different – but she could not think of a way to say it that would not sound overly sentimental or romantic. She was already walking a narrow line. Perhaps she could say something when next she saw him. If he came to breakfast, she could say something then.

Continued in the next post!

[MMADfan]

Continued from the previous post!

CXXVI: Unsolicited Advice, continued

The storm was subsiding as Albus looked up and sighed. Someone was coming to see him. There were few people in the castle now – he didn’t believe that Wilhelmina and Hagrid had returned yet. He was unsure whether he would be pleased if it were Minerva returning or not. He would be pleased to see her, but his mood was not conducive to being with her, particularly not if she embraced him again; his control was very tenuous at that moment. If he held her in his arms, he didn’t think he could let her go or, worse, given his current weariness, if he could resist doing more than just holding her.

And if it were Johannes coming to see him, as much as he liked the Herbology teacher, Albus didn’t believe he could sustain rational conversation with him just then. There was one sharp rap of the knocker. Gertie. Albus sighed again, this time in relief, and gestured for the door to open.

“Albus?” Gertrude stepped in. She looked at him a moment. “What is wrong? Other than the obviously distressing news about Pretnick?”

Albus shook his head. “Nothing. Just that. And I am tired.”

Gertrude examined him. “If you say so. You do look tired, though. Minerva said it had been a late night for you?”

Albus nodded. “Yes . . . we talked quite late.”

Gertrude sat down in the chair to one side of him. “Did you. . . . About Hogwarts?”

“A little about Hogwarts. A little about other things.”

“And today?” Gertrude asked.

Albus glanced over at her. “What do you mean?”

“Just that, what did you discuss with her today? Hogwarts?” Gertrude asked with a slight shrug.

“Primarily. The wards, her position, that sort of thing.”

“And Robert Pretnick, I presume – as that was a rather dominant bit of news today.”

“Some,” Albus said with a nod.

“Is that the letter?” Gertrude asked, pointing to the parchment that lay on the low table in front of him.

“Yes. You may read it, if you wish.”

Gertrude picked it up and read it through twice. She nodded. “Very Gryffindor. Not particularly sensible, but very Gryffindor. He was a fine wizard.”

Albus nodded.

“Strikes a chord with you, Albus? Perhaps a few?”

“I understand what he was saying, but I agree with none of it,” Albus responded. “Not his assumptions, not his reasoning, not his conclusions, and certainly not his action.”

“I didn’t ask whether you agreed with him or not, Albus,” Gertrude said gently.

“I don’t even know what I feel,” Albus said softly, “beyond the sense that there was so much more I could have done for him that I did not do. That I could have averted this, that I have failed . . .”

“I expected you would feel that, and I believe that if you were counselling another in your situation, you would see how Pretnick’s choices were his own and not a result of your failure. And I know that you will eventually see that, and feel it, too. But there is something beyond that, isn’t there? And some of it has to do with Pretnick and his death and some of what troubles you . . . is unrelated to that entirely.”

Albus looked at her wearily. “There are always things that trouble me, Gertrude. You are beginning to sound like one of those supposed seers who says enough that is vaguely true that, to the gullible, they sound as though they actually possess the Sight.”

Gertrude shrugged again. “We have known each other a very long time, Albus. The only sight I possess is that with which I see you now. You are tired, you are troubled, and you need some supper, which I can easily guess you have not had.”

“I doubt you have eaten, either. You haven’t even changed clothes,” Albus pointed out. “I am not particularly hungry.”

“There is no one in the castle who seems bothered by it, although I have found a few of the portraits making amusingly scandalised remarks,” Gertrude said with a slight smile. “Let’s have some supper, then. Just a cup of soup, hmm?”

Albus nodded wearily, and Gertrude called Wilspy, who reappeared just a few minutes later with soup, fresh bread, and butter. They ate in silence, and when Albus had finished, he sat back and sighed, closing his eyes, then he looked over at Gertrude.

“Thank you.”

“Of course. Now . . . do you feel up to telling me what is troubling you?”

“No . . . except to say that I do understand what you meant by his death striking more than one chord with me, and you were right.” He smiled slightly. “Thank you again – for understanding.”

Gertrude nodded and looked at him a moment. “I do understand, Albus, and I care. And I know that Minerva cares, as well. She must have been distressed by this news.”

“Yes, of course. It is, as you have said, distressing.”

“And she knew, too, how much you had hoped to be able to help him.”

Albus nodded.

“And I am sure that, caring for you as she does, it was just as distressing for Minerva to know how upset you must be as it was simply to hear the news of it herself,” Gertrude said.

“That is an exaggeration; however, I know she was concerned,” he conceded. “I tried to allay her concerns and reassure her that I will be fine – as I will be.”

“I am sure you will, and no doubt Minerva knows that, too. But she was with you when you heard the news that he had been bitten, she helped you in the days following, she was your proxy on the committee, and she was with you when you received the news today from the Ministry. I would say that my estimation of her distress was not exaggerated in the slightest, particularly knowing how devoted she is to you. You may not be able to help Pretnick, but Minerva is here and she is concerned about you and distressed by the situation. It may sound paradoxical, but you can help her by letting her help you.”

Albus looked at Gertrude sharply. “Have you spoken to her?”

“Not since you saw us together earlier. But your reaction tells me that if I had, it might have been an informative conversation.”

“No . . . but you are right. She was distressed when she left. But I am not in any position to alleviate that distress.” He sighed. “And even if I were . . . I am so tired. And I really do not wish to discuss it yet. Not with you or with Minerva or with anyone. I am sorry.” He took a deep breath. “I am sure you have other places you would prefer to be, and yet again . . . here you are. . . . Here you are.”

Gertrude took his hand. “I don’t mind. I told you I would always be here when you need me, and I try to live up to that – and it is no burden. You know it is not. No more than it would be for you.” She stood. “But if you don’t feel up to talking yet, I think some sleep might be in order. For a wizard who rarely admits fatigue, I think the fact that you have said you are tired several times this evening might just indicate that you need some rest.”

Albus stood, and Gertrude placed one hand gently on his cheek. She said, “You will have a better perspective on things in the morning. Take some time to talk to Minerva while you are together tomorrow. You will both benefit, I am sure.”

“I am tired, but I do not know if sleep will help . . . the last days . . . the last weeks . . . I feel old, Gertie,” he said, turning his face toward her hand, closing his eyes. “Like an old, worn-out wizard.”

Gertrude shook her head. “You are not an old, worn-out wizard. But you need to deal with whatever is causing you to feel that way. And sleep might not be the complete cure, but it is a good first step, hmm?” She caressed his cheek with her thumb.

He nodded and smiled. “Very sensible. Of course.”

“Come here,” Gertrude said softly, and put her arms around him. He leaned his weight on her and let out a long breath, and the two stood like that for a few minutes. Albus breathed deeply and tightened his arms around her, then rested his head against hers.

“Here now, I think you are falling asleep already. I’ll go now, and you sleep – rest, Albus. It will do you good. And it will help you deal with the source of your troubles.” She gave him a brief squeeze before stepping back and out of his embrace. “I will see you tomorrow.”

He walked her to the door. “Sometimes it is still difficult – ”

“Is it? Or is it only that you think it would be easier for you otherwise?” Gertrude asked with a raised eyebrow.

Albus smiled. “You are, perhaps, right. It is also ego speaking, I think.”

“Good night, Albus.”

“Good night.” He leaned toward her and she turned her cheek to receive his kiss. As she opened the door, he said, smiling a little, “You still look rather fetching in trousers, you know.”

“So I have been told, Albus, so I have been told,” Gertie said with a slight smirk. As she stepped onto the moving stair, she called out behind her, “Don’t forget: talk to Minerva, comfort her, Albus. She needs you.”

Then she was gone, and Albus was standing at the open door thinking that Gertrude couldn’t be more mistaken. Minerva didn’t need him, but he did need her.

As he closed the door, Albus heard Dilys’s voice above him.

“She gave you good advice, you know. You shouldn’t have let Professor McGonagall leave as she did. They both care about you. You should heed them,” the portrait said.

Albus sighed. They were just portraits. “I know they care about me. And I am not in the habit of holding my staff in my office against their will.”

“Mmm, you should have with that first one,” Eliphelet said with a bright eye. “She could be quite the enjoyable diversion for you – hidden depths, that one – depths to be plumbed, if you take my meaning!” He leered. Before Albus could object to the portrait’s description of Minerva, the headmaster continued, “But that second one, quite fetching, a bit more mature, but that can be a very good thing, and you were right about the trousers. Never saw a witch in trousers before – brought my eye right to the crux of the matter, so to speak. Would love to get my hand in there, I would – ”

Albus turned and raised his hand to the portrait, ready to cast a spell to cover the portrait and silence it in one go, but Eliphelet was already half-way out of the portrait on the way to his great-great grandson’s boring library, no doubt. Albus gritted his teeth and ignored Dilys’s voice floating down to him, instead, leaving his office for the Headmaster’s library, the closest avenue of retreat at the moment.

Albus slumped into the chair by the door, closing it behind him, leaving himself in the pitch dark. Gertrude. She did look quite fetching that night, and she had been so understanding, just as he could always count on her to be . . . but this, he couldn’t talk to her about this. He had no desire to discuss Robert’s death just yet, nor the turmoil of feelings it brought to him, and he had no ability, let alone desire, to discuss the greater source of his distress: his own unseemly desires for a young witch who looked up at him as a father-figure, and that was a generous description of himself – he was old enough to be her grandfather. Indeed, some of his classmates had great-grandchildren older than Minerva. She had come to know him when she was such a sweet, earnest young girl . . . her teacher, her mentor, and now, her friend. How could he confess his love and desire for her to anyone, even to Gertrude? Even Gertrude would be bound to be . . . not shocked, perhaps, but surprised, and definitely pitying. And it would bring up other uncomfortable topics . . . he was, sadly, well past the age when he could be considered remotely an eligible wizard. Gertrude would doubtless be kind, and perhaps brisk and practical, but she would see his folly and think him a wizard in his dotage with an unseemly, perhaps even laughable, infatuation with a very young witch completely out of his reach. How he wished it were only an infatuation.

Albus rose and turned in the dark, finding the door. Before opening it, he leaned forward, his palm resting on the door, and lay his head on the back of his hand. He had understood Gertrude, but . . . Albus sighed. It was a simple fact that the time in his life when he may have been able to develop a relationship with a witch was past. If nothing else had convinced him of that, the fiasco with Valerianna should have. But still . . . perhaps a nice widow of one hundred or so. He let out a short, bitter laugh. Even if he wanted such a “nice widow,” meeting one would not be easy with all of the duties and pressures of his work. And any such witch would likely have certain expectations of him, socially, professionally . . . and it would not be fair, either. Even if this “nice widow” were seeking companionship and not the love of her life, it would certainly not be fair to become involved with anyone now, not with his feelings, his passions, directed, however inappropriately, toward another witch, toward Minerva. If only he had found that hypothetical witch sooner, before Minerva returned to Hogwarts, before his emotions and his attachment to her had become so unavoidably powerful. He had thought he had found this witch, even before he became aware of his growing feelings for Minerva, and she was a witch whom he thought was eminently suitable, and he cared for her so deeply, and his attraction for her was so strong . . . but even by then he was already well past “eligible” and on his way to “obsolete.” And there was nothing to be done for it now. The past was past, and at one hundred-seventeen, he had a lot of experience dealing with the past and with irretrievably lost opportunities. The trouble was, despite what he had said to Gertrude about feeling old, there was a part of him that didn’t feel old at all, and that part of him unfortunately also included the part of him that loved Minerva. Perhaps it was time to resort to other remedies . . . a potion. If he could kill at least the most superficially physical part of his passion for Minerva, perhaps the rest of his passion would die a natural death, and he could love her as he should. There were several simple potions that acted directly on the libido, after all . . . most had side-effects, however, and rather unpleasant ones. And as much as he was desperate to protect Minerva from himself, there was still that selfish streak in him that did not entirely wish to be freed from his passion for her. He just wanted to avoid acting on it and making her uncomfortable with him. No, potions could wait. They would be the absolute last resort.

Gertrude was right. He needed sleep. Such bleak thoughts, such regret, it wasn’t his general nature, despite the difficult period in his youth. Albus opened the door and reentered his office. He glanced up at the portraits.

Dilys said, “He came back. I sent him away again. I told him that if he kept up the way he was, he would meet the same fate as Charles, behind a curtain. I think he will stay at the Longbottoms’ library for a while.”

When Dilys mentioned the curtain, Albus reflexively looked over at the dusty brown cloth that covered the portrait of Hogwarts most ignominious Headmaster. He had used his ability to access any area of the castle at any time to enter the rooms of young students and molest them, and then Obliviate them afterward. Apparently he received quite a shock when one night, the wards and secret passages wouldn’t respond to him. He had been discovered the next day by the Head of Slytherin, trapped in the corridor of the girls’ dormitory, unable even to leave despite the fact that the corridor had never been warded against exit. He was Headmaster less than two months. After he was found, and it was clear that Hogwarts herself had somehow rejected him, it was learned what he had been doing, and the man was sacked. When he died, his portrait appeared in the Headmaster’s office. He had been a legitimate Headmaster until Hogwarts rejected him, after all. But his portrait had been immediately covered with a brown cloth that had never been removed, and no one ever spoke his name. Other Headmasters or Headmistresses may have occasionally abused their position to entice, lure, impress, or intimidate, many were even cruel and overbearing, but none had ever come close to committing the transgressions that he had by so very egregiously violating the most important duty of any Hogwarts staff: the care and protection of her students.

“He was right about one thing, though,” Dilys continued. “You should have kept Professor McGonagall from leaving. Professor Gamp was right, as well: that one cares about you. You shouldn’t allow her to believe that her affection and concern is unwelcome. I may just be a portrait, but I’ve seen a lot, hanging here, and I’m a bit more awake than many of them. You seem to be accepting and rejecting her simultaneously. Do something about it. She’s a generous witch. She will understand, if you allow. That’s my unsolicited advice for the day. Now I’m off for Mungo’s. They’re having a poetry reading in Healer Bothwick’s library. It’s not a very large painting, and if I don’t want to be sitting behind a bookcase or perched in the still-life across the way, I have to leave now. Good-night, Headmaster!”

Albus brought himself up to his suite and went into his study. He opened a desk drawer and pulled out the picture of Minerva, the copy of which he had given her. Perhaps it had been then . . . Albus gazed on Minerva’s face, mesmerised, watching as, time and again, she turned toward the Albus in the photograph and smiled in delight. Even now, seeing Minerva smile could not help but bring a slight smile to his own lips.

Albus put the photograph down on one side of the desk, then sat, took a bright red quill in hand, and set about writing a note. When he was finished and had sealed it with a small blob of golden wax, he called for Wilspy.

---

Minerva returned from the Owlery, entered her small kitchen, and began making herself a cup of mint tea. She needed something soothing before bed, but did not want chamomile tea, and her mother’s favourite, warm milk, didn’t appeal, either. Of course, she could always follow her father’s example, and do a bit of slightly warmed Scotch and water with a smidgen of honey.

As Minerva set the tea to steep, she heard a tell-tale crack in the sitting room. She stuck her head out.

“Wilspy – I’m in here,” she called.

“A letter from Professor Dumbledore for Professor’s Professor Minerva,” the elf said brightly, holding out a small rolled parchment.

Minerva took it, and before she could say anything, Wilspy had popped away.

Bringing her tea with her, Minerva went into the sitting room and sat at the round table by the window. She unsealed the parchment.

“Dear Minerva,

“Your presence and your assistance today was invaluable and very welcome; if I have not thanked you for it, I do now.

“I hope that you understand that simply because I did not wish to talk at that moment, it did not mean that I wanted you to leave. I am sorry if I made you feel that way. Your friendship and your companionship and your affection mean more to me than you can know. I truly do value your care and concern. We were both tired, though, and Robert’s death distressed us both. I hope you will forgive me for not saying and doing the correct thing.

“I hope this letter isn’t too blunt, my dear, but I am just off to bed and am hardly able to hold my eyes open. But before I retire for the night, I would like to ask you to breakfast with me in the morning, if you would care to. Perhaps seven o’clock in my sitting room? If I do not see you, I will call for you at eight o’clock, as previously arranged.

“Yours fondly,

“Albus

“P.S. I do hope to see you for breakfast, my dear.”

Minerva smiled. It was no declaration of love, not that she would expect that, and it was rather blunt, as he said, but there was still something very sweet about it. Well, now, who was going to go to whose rooms for breakfast? Clearly their notes had crossed. But that notion pleased her. And if he was blunt, at least she understood his meaning, and it reassured her that he had not taken her declaration of love as she meant it; given his feelings toward her, that would be disastrous. But he did value her concern and her affection, and that was certainly reassuring.

Minerva decided that she would call for Wilspy when she woke in the morning and ask her whether Albus was expecting her or coming to her rooms. Since she hadn’t suggested a time, perhaps she should just go up to his rooms. But she would call Wilspy first, or send a message to Albus with her. Given their recent interactions, Minerva could see herself arriving in his sitting room as he took his backstairs to the seventh floor to go to her quarters. That was one misunderstanding they could definitely avoid, at least.

Leaving her teacup, still half full, on the table, and her ginger newt uneaten on its saucer, Minerva brought the note into her bedroom, placed it, open, by her specially framed photograph of her and Albus together, then got ready for bed, opening the draperies and setting a Tempus alarm for six-thirty. With one last look at her little “shrine” with the small photo of Albus, the dried rose on its frame, the twinned white stones, and the blue nazar stone, Minerva slid between the sheets, and scarcely had she placed her head on her pillow, when she was sound asleep.

---

Next: “In Memoriam” 6 August 1957

[esoterica1693]

This was a much more upbeat chapter than I had expected, despite Albus's low ebb.

Minerva has handled this latest setback so very well. Thanks in part to Gertie's conversation with her, and partly due to a very mature ability to look at her actions critically. Maybe she didn't recognize her motivations when she was in Albus's office, but to grasp them so clearly immediately after and to act swiftly to make amends--very good on her part.

Poor Albus! He's lucky to have Dilys and, of course, Gertie. (And the story about the awful ex-Head that Hogwarts rejected--lovely bit of detail there...the Castle may not have 'truly human intelligence,' but it clearly has much wisdom....)

There are obviously a few important chapters to Albus's romantic history that we readers have not yet been made privy to. And a big piece of it involves Gertie. My hunch is that she is the witch whom Albus loved so dearly and found so attractive, but that for some reason she rebuffed him. Clearly in a loving way that enabled them to retain, or rebuild, their trusting, truly loving, friendship. I venture that "sometimes it's still difficult" refers to the challenges of being alone romantically, emotionally and physically, perhaps even specifically referring to not being with Gertrude in that way. It's almost as if he's saying "it's hard to let you go tonight." Contrary to some of my earlier thoughts, I suspect that they have been lovers, or very close to it. And that indeed, though there is next to no frisson between them at the moment (I say '*next to* no' b/c of the trousers remark--he still is very aware of her physical attractiveness to him even in the midst of his grief and turmoil!), that scene could have easily ended w/ them snuggled in bed together, albeit totally platonically, if Gertie weren't so convinced it would be the wrong thing, for a number of reasons.

Albus is very good at interpreting Gertie's Slytherin approach to things, but sometimes IMHO she needs to remember who *he* is and be more Gryffy-like in her dealings w/ him. If she keeps working so obliquely and slowly the poor man will be in despair and taking vile potions! Leading someone to discover something on their own rather than telling them is usually to be commended, but the poor guy is torturing himself!

She must surely know him well enough to know how much unworthiness and shame he feels over his love for Minerva, and that he would not confide it to *anyone.* Why not just sit him down and say, "Look, I know you'd never admit this in a million years, b/c you're afraid of what people would think, so let me be blunt: I know just what your feelings towards Minerva are, and this is what I think about them...."

But then, I'd never make a Slytherin myself, would I? <g>

[Hogwarts Duo]

I was very happy to come home from Christmas shopping to find an update from you. Now my day is complete!!! ;D

This is an incredibly sad chapter and just reading it made my heart weary for Albus. He’s in such turmoil and it seems that things just keep piling on him and he’s not dealing with them well. MEGA-CUDDLES to my sweet, loveable Albus (who looks like Richard Harris…tee hee)!

Her attempt to get him to talk was a substitute for what she had really wanted to do: take him in her arms and hold him.

Awww. I really wish Minerva had done just that. If she’d just taken him into her arms after reading the letter and hearing Albus’ depression beginning to settle in, it could have been a wonderful start to a very intense lifelong love affair. I can envision it now…Albus’ head resting on Minerva’s shoulder or chest as she held him tightly with one hand, stroking his hair and rubbing his back with the other. Dreamy sigh…too bad Minerva didn’t follow her gut instincts and offer him some silent comfort.

Oh, he did love her, but as he had when she was a child. He had practically said that there in his office. Something about having felt somewhat responsible for her well-being for a long time . . . his feelings stretched back to her days as a student, and she had no indication from him that these feelings had changed at all.

This paragraph made me want to take Minerva into a pensieve and show her a few things! She amazes me sometimes when she starts trying to rationalize away what’s happening around her. I dare say that Albus’ had done quite a few romantic things since their first misunderstanding that he never would have done when she was younger, especially his student. The concert, the rose, the evil eye, the photo and frame, breakfast together, walks…she’s missing out on the forest for looking at all the trees. If only she’d take a step back and really reflect on those things or even make a list of the things. Sigh…

“He was right about one thing, though,” Dilys continued. “You should have kept Professor McGonagall from leaving. Professor Gamp was right, as well: that one cares about you. You shouldn’t allow her to believe that her affection and concern is unwelcome. I may just be a portrait, but I’ve seen a lot, hanging here, and I’m a bit more awake than many of them. You seem to be accepting and rejecting her simultaneously. Do something about it. She’s a generous witch. She will understand, if you allow. That’s my unsolicited advice for the day…”

I LOVE DILYS!!!!!! She is the absolute greatest out of all the portraits on the wall. I especially applauded her for telling Albus that he’s accepting and rejecting Minerva, creating no doubt endless confusion in Minerva’s heart (okay so I added that last bit but you get the idea lol). I have to believe that she has picked up on the fact that they’re both wishing for a romantic relationship but they’re both too afraid of rejection or embarrassment. I hope we get to see lots more of her in the future chapters. Now Eliphat…I can do without seeing him so much. He’s just a bit of a cad!

And speaking of cads: The story of the dirty old Headmaster was shocking and awful. It’s something that I never would have thought of happening at Hogwarts but no doubt those sort of evil creatures lurk everywhere. I’m glad the castle decided to take care of the matter and he was discovered and then disgraced, even after death.

Albus’ letter to Minerva was very sweet, in its own way. I’m glad he took a few minutes to explain his actions to her so she wouldn’t go to bed completely upset over the evening. And her letter to him was just as nice. It’s warming to see that they’re interested in working things out before they get too far out of hand.

As always, you’ve left me wanting more so I will sit and wait patiently for the next update!!!
Have a great day!
The GLM