Post by Nerweniel on Jul 30, 2007 11:33:16 GMT -5
AN: I nicked this fic's title from a 1947 film noir with Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall... so if it sounds familiar, that's why. Also, I dedicate this fic to all AD/MM shippers who won't let the ship sink 
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Dark Passage
Prologue: 1943
“She is tolerable, I suppose, but not quite handsome enough to tempt me.” the wizard said with cold disinterest as, with a flick of his wand, he summoned another glass of Muggle champagne.
Taking a sip, he smiled at his friend.
“Besides, Armando, you know I don’t enjoy balls – I never have. This is your celebration, not mine.”
Armando Dippet, newly established headmaster of Hogwarts, sighed, then –with a nearly imperceptible shake of his head – merely gently led his friend away.
As they walked along one of the walls of Hogwarts’ Great Hall, which, for one night, served as a ballroom, Armando cast the other wizard a small, sideway glance.
“Albus, sometimes you do astonish me.” he then muttered.
“I’m fairly sure that girl heard what you said there. It wasn’t the kindest way of - ”
“If such remarks break her heart, Armando, then her mother shouldn’t allow her out of the house yet. That goes for most young women present here, actually.”
Albus Dumbledore’s blue eyes shone with disapproval, almost with loathing, as he overlooked the many dancing couples in the middle of the room – and the many girls, standing at the sides, temporarily without a partner, who obviously wished nothing more than to be part of such a couple.
When he turned away again to face his friend, he noticed the look on Dippet’s face and, patting his friend’s shoulder, he smiled again.
“I’m sorry, Armando. I didn’t mean to displease you; I know how fond you are of occasions like this… only I fear that your attempts to make me into more of a dandy are once again falling on deaf ears. I much prefer some books or an exciting game of chess to any young lady with nothing more on her mind than to marry well and - ”
“Do you have any idea who she is?”
“No, I don’t.”
The answer had come spontaneously and, for once, devoid of irony, Armando Dippet noticed. He almost smiled, although he knew full well that the spontaneity of the answer was more due to surprise at his interference than to genuine curiosity. Still, the new Headmaster was not about to let the moment pass.
“Her mother is Caroline Garlinghouse, Plautus’ youngest, the one who married a Muggle. Minerva, this girl’s name is, Minerva McGonagall, and she’s said to be one of the most accomplished young witches of this age.”
“Good for her, then.”
Albus’s voice still sounded cold, but to his satisfaction, Armando noticed that his friend’s eyes briefly lingered on the young woman who was still standing at the other side of the hall.
“I taught her for a few years, and while I doubt her greatest talents lay in the field of Herbology, my colleagues were impressed by her achievements. She’s supposed to be quite the Transfiguration prodigy… I believe she intends to become an Animagus, surely that’s got to be of interest to you?”
“I don’t believe in prodigies.”
“Word goes that you were one yourself.”
“Hence why I don’t believe in them.”
Armando smiled and slightly raised his arms in a helpless gesture.
“I admit defeat, my friend. You’re an incorrigible cynic.”
The other wizard grinned, then raised his glass in agreement.
“I’ll drink to that.”
.Dark Passage
Prologue: 1943
“She is tolerable, I suppose, but not quite handsome enough to tempt me.” the wizard said with cold disinterest as, with a flick of his wand, he summoned another glass of Muggle champagne.
Taking a sip, he smiled at his friend.
“Besides, Armando, you know I don’t enjoy balls – I never have. This is your celebration, not mine.”
Armando Dippet, newly established headmaster of Hogwarts, sighed, then –with a nearly imperceptible shake of his head – merely gently led his friend away.
As they walked along one of the walls of Hogwarts’ Great Hall, which, for one night, served as a ballroom, Armando cast the other wizard a small, sideway glance.
“Albus, sometimes you do astonish me.” he then muttered.
“I’m fairly sure that girl heard what you said there. It wasn’t the kindest way of - ”
“If such remarks break her heart, Armando, then her mother shouldn’t allow her out of the house yet. That goes for most young women present here, actually.”
Albus Dumbledore’s blue eyes shone with disapproval, almost with loathing, as he overlooked the many dancing couples in the middle of the room – and the many girls, standing at the sides, temporarily without a partner, who obviously wished nothing more than to be part of such a couple.
When he turned away again to face his friend, he noticed the look on Dippet’s face and, patting his friend’s shoulder, he smiled again.
“I’m sorry, Armando. I didn’t mean to displease you; I know how fond you are of occasions like this… only I fear that your attempts to make me into more of a dandy are once again falling on deaf ears. I much prefer some books or an exciting game of chess to any young lady with nothing more on her mind than to marry well and - ”
“Do you have any idea who she is?”
“No, I don’t.”
The answer had come spontaneously and, for once, devoid of irony, Armando Dippet noticed. He almost smiled, although he knew full well that the spontaneity of the answer was more due to surprise at his interference than to genuine curiosity. Still, the new Headmaster was not about to let the moment pass.
“Her mother is Caroline Garlinghouse, Plautus’ youngest, the one who married a Muggle. Minerva, this girl’s name is, Minerva McGonagall, and she’s said to be one of the most accomplished young witches of this age.”
“Good for her, then.”
Albus’s voice still sounded cold, but to his satisfaction, Armando noticed that his friend’s eyes briefly lingered on the young woman who was still standing at the other side of the hall.
“I taught her for a few years, and while I doubt her greatest talents lay in the field of Herbology, my colleagues were impressed by her achievements. She’s supposed to be quite the Transfiguration prodigy… I believe she intends to become an Animagus, surely that’s got to be of interest to you?”
“I don’t believe in prodigies.”
“Word goes that you were one yourself.”
“Hence why I don’t believe in them.”
Armando smiled and slightly raised his arms in a helpless gesture.
“I admit defeat, my friend. You’re an incorrigible cynic.”
The other wizard grinned, then raised his glass in agreement.
“I’ll drink to that.”
