RP: Debate is Masculine,
Date : February 6th 2003 - morning
Characters : McGonagall and Dumbledore
Location : Dumbledore's home
Status : Closed
Summary : Someone owes someone else some answers.
Complete : Incomplete.
It wasn't enough that he sent Fawkes with some vague letter referencing things she didn't know. Not bad enough that he - if it truly was he - lived and walked the world, and this was the first she knew of it.
No, he had to make things complicated. He had to live in some fantastical place that no one could tell her how to get to.
Well, Minerva had faced harder challenges in her life than tracking down some village named after a place of mythology. At the last she had beaten this challenge, too, though it almost seemed to her that as she flew her broom out of London on what was going to be a wild goose chase, the village simply showed up, somewhere it shouldn't have been.
Regardless, she was grouchy, tired, and since she had spent the last couple of days certain she was chasing ghosts or pranksters, she was on pins and needles the closer she got to the truth.
His house was easy to find - she simply found Pendragon Park, as mentioned in his letter, and asked the first stranger she saw.
It was his stoop and doorstep that seemed somehow the biggest obstacle of all, now that she was there. She couldn't seem to bring herself to go the last couple of feet, knock on the door, and expose this farce for what it was.
She had gone a long time without hoping for the miracle of his return. This revival of that foolish hope was going to prove painful in the end.
With a sigh she straightened herself and affixed her face with the scowl of a true schoolmarm. That expression gave her some strength, and with a terse step she reached the door and knocked firmly.
Characters : McGonagall and Dumbledore
Location : Dumbledore's home
Status : Closed
Summary : Someone owes someone else some answers.
Complete : Incomplete.
It wasn't enough that he sent Fawkes with some vague letter referencing things she didn't know. Not bad enough that he - if it truly was he - lived and walked the world, and this was the first she knew of it.
No, he had to make things complicated. He had to live in some fantastical place that no one could tell her how to get to.
Well, Minerva had faced harder challenges in her life than tracking down some village named after a place of mythology. At the last she had beaten this challenge, too, though it almost seemed to her that as she flew her broom out of London on what was going to be a wild goose chase, the village simply showed up, somewhere it shouldn't have been.
Regardless, she was grouchy, tired, and since she had spent the last couple of days certain she was chasing ghosts or pranksters, she was on pins and needles the closer she got to the truth.
His house was easy to find - she simply found Pendragon Park, as mentioned in his letter, and asked the first stranger she saw.
It was his stoop and doorstep that seemed somehow the biggest obstacle of all, now that she was there. She couldn't seem to bring herself to go the last couple of feet, knock on the door, and expose this farce for what it was.
She had gone a long time without hoping for the miracle of his return. This revival of that foolish hope was going to prove painful in the end.
With a sigh she straightened herself and affixed her face with the scowl of a true schoolmarm. That expression gave her some strength, and with a terse step she reached the door and knocked firmly.