Fic written for hg_seasonfest: Temperatures, Leaves, and Quidditch Players
Title: Temperatures, Leaves, and Quidditch Players
Gift for: dorotdsz
Pairing: Harry/Ginny; Dumbledore painting
Rating: G
Word Count: 1880
Summary: Harry can’t figure out why Ginny fusses so much over Albus. But another Albus might have some insight.
Author's Notes: Hope this works for you, dorotdsz. I know you wanted details about the Ginny/Albus relationship as well as Harry talking to Dumbledore. This is what I managed to come up with.
Harry Potter strolled purposefully along the empty corridor leading the Headmistress’s office. Although he was older and had been an Auror for a number of years, he still had a young, almost boyish, face and unkempt black hair. In spite of his youthful appearance, worry and frustration reflected in his deep green eyes and was expressed with tight, pursed lips. He seemed to not even notice the brilliant golds and reds of autumn leaves reflecting in the sunlight through the high glass windows along the corridor.
Harry was thinking of his son Albus, mending in the hospital wing after a bludger smashed into his back and knocked him from his broom during Quidditch practice. Both he and Ginny had received an owl announcing Albus’ accident and Ginny had insisted they come north to Hogwarts to make sure he was all right. After only fifteen minutes of watching Ginny fuss over Albus, Harry decided to take Professor McGonagal up on her standing offer to visit her in her office any time he happened to be at the school.
Harry arrived at the Gargoyle and gave the password to enter and go up to the office. “Haggis,” he stated clearly, thinking of the difference between Albus Dumbledore’s penchant for candies and Minerva McGonagal’s love for everything Scottish, including haggis of all things. Harry ascended the winding staircase and entered into the Headmistress’s office, calling out Professor McGonagal’s name.
Unfortunately, the office was empty. Assuming she had been called away on some urgent matter and feeling a little uncomfortable staying without her knowledge, Harry turned to leave, then heard a familiar voice. He looked over at the portrait of Albus Dumbledore, still hanging in the place of honor behind the headmistress’s desk.
“Harry, my boy,” the painting of Dumbledore beamed at him. “So good to see you. Don’t rush off. Minerva will be thrilled and she shouldn’t be gone long. Make yourself comfortable.” Harry sat down in a plaid overstuffed, high-back chair and attempted a smile that seemed to be more of a grimace while Dumbledore eyed him carefully. After an awkward moment of silence, Dumbledore asked cheerily, “So how is my little namesake?”
“What?” Harry asked, startled out of his deep thoughts. “You mean Albus?”
“Well, yes,” Dumbledore replied with a bemused smile. “How many namesakes do I have?”
“Not many, which can’t be that much of a surprise,” Harry commented, and then, realizing how rude that sounded, hastened to add, “I mean, with the name of Albus. You have quite a few namesakes with your other names.”
“Good heavens,” Dumbledore replied in mock horror, “I hope no little wizard was stuck with Wulfric.”
“Oh no,” Harry answered, “most often they’re named Percival or Brian. They’re a little less . . . um, odd.”
“Of course,” Dumbledore replied with a smile. “You know, I never really did like the name Albus.”
“Really?” Harry’s eyes widened in surprise.
“No. Would You? My mother had a particular love for names that started with A. Especially unusual names.” Dumbledore paused reflectively and then continued with a wide grin. “But happily enough, I was the firstborn son rather than the second.”
Harry grinned back at him. “Don’t like the name of Aberforth, either? Hmm, yes, I think you had better name. But don’t ever tell Ginny you didn’t like the name Albus. She tried really hard to convince me to name him Brian.”
“Well,” Dumbledore replied with a familiar twinkle in his painted blue eyes, “I can see how the initials B.S. Potter would have been better than A.S.P.” Harry raised one eyebrow and sighed, the discussion about Albus only aggravating him more.
Dumbledore watched for a minute and then spoke again. “I have noticed your Albus a few times last year and this. He looks just like you. And he seems very happy here, settling in just fine.”
“Except now,” Harry muttered darkly. “He’s in the hospital wing and . . .”
Dumbledore frowned. “Albus is injured? Is it serious?” Harry shook his head quickly, but didn’t finish his sentence and after a moment, Dumbledore disappeared from the painting. He returned a few short minutes later looking relieved. “Harry, dear boy, you and Ginny need not be concerned. I have checked on him myself and Poppy says Albus will be just fine in a very short time. He only fell a few feet. Don’t forget the old joke: ‘There are three things that fall in the autumn at Hogwarts, temperatures, leaves, and Quidditch players.’”
Harry looked up from studying the worn spots in the carpet. “I reminded her of that one. She wasn’t amused.” He winced at the memory of her biting retort.
“But this is good news, right? ”
“Yes, of course, it’s good news,” Harry replied. “I knew he would be just fine. We knew before we came that he was going to be fine.”
“I see,” Dumbledore said. “Then if you don’t mind my asking, why did you and Ginny come to Hogwarts? The injury was minor compared to some our students sustain although of course Quidditch injuries can be tricky at times. But you, yourself, made so many visits to the hospital wing that some faculty suggested naming it after you. And somehow we always got you healed up. So, tell me what’s really bothering you.”
After a long pause, Harry slowly answered, “ We didn’t need to come here but Ginny insisted. Anytime Albus even gets the slightest bruise, she frets and fusses over him. I keep telling Ginny she’s smothering the boy but she doesn’t listen. She just keeps babying him.”
“Perhaps you’re overreacting?”
“I’m not,” Harry shot back. “Other people have noticed - both James and Lily call Albus ‘Babypants,’ and Lily’s younger. Both Ron and Hermione have tried to talk to her about it. George has purposely tried to toughen Albus up away from her clutches, but no matter what anybody says, she just keeps going. She has a one-track mind about that boy.”
Dumbledore nodded and tapped his chin. “Hmmm.”
“And let me give you some more examples. James was in charge of feeding our crup by the age of 5. Albus wasn’t even allowed in the same room before he was 7. Ginny insists I’m remembering that wrong, but Hermione keeps a journal and I’ve seen the entries. I know I’m right. And then there’s flying and Quidditch. James was on a broom and flying around our place when he was no older than 4 and Lily Luna started at an even younger age. Ginny kept saying how she started sneaking her brothers’ broomsticks when she was really small and that Lily Luna should have the experience of flying when she’s young so she won’t be nervous. “
“I assume this was not the case with Albus?” Dumbledore asked with interest.
“I could barely get him on a broomstick without Ginny insisting he was going to fall and get hurt,” Harry answered with a perplexed expression. “In fact, he really didn’t do much flying until he came to Hogwarts. And this year, with him being on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Ginny has been beside herself with terror, sure he would get injured. She reminded me, loudly, about that today when I told her we shouldn’t come, and that was before I told the joke.” He winced again, hoping she’d eventually get over her pique.
“How does Albus feel about Ginny’s protectiveness?”
“I’m not sure,” Harry replied, thinking for a moment. “Actually, I don’t think he minds. He shrugs off James’ teasing and it doesn’t seem to bother him. He’s very close to Ginny. They always have been that way, literally since the minute he was born. I sometimes worried about James feeling like Albus had somehow ruined his life, but he’s remarkably well-adjusted anyway.”
“I see,” Dumbledore replied as he stroked his painted beard. “It is quite remarkable how much Albus looks like you, Harry. Sometimes he walks in here and I forget you’re grown and not likely to wear Hogwarts robes. He has your same facial expressions. He carries himself the way you did.”
“Yeah,” Harry agreed with a grin, “he’s almost as scrawny as I was when I came to Hogwarts.”
“Exactly,” Dumbledore replied. He then asked, “What are some of your first memories of Ginny?”
“I remember her chasing after the Hogwarts Express the first year. And,” Harry chuckled as he pictured the event, “I remember the first time I visited the Burrow, Ginny put her elbow in the butter dish. She was pretty embarrassed so I tried not to show I’d seen it.”
“Yes, yes,” Dumbledore responded with a smile, “but what happened when Arthur and Molly took you and their children to Diagon Alley to buy school supplies?”
“Draco Malfoy was acting like a git and Ginny jumped between us and started yelling at him.”
“Yes,” Dumbledore said. “Arthur told me about that shortly after it happened.”
“Okay,” Harry replied, puzzled at the direction of the conversation. “What has that to do with Albus? Um, my Albus?”
“Why, it has everything to do with him, Harry.” Dumbledore was obviously enjoying himself. “Tell me, Harry, who went with you to the Ministry of Magic when you tried to save Sirius Black?”
“Of course, Ron and Hermione. Also, Ginny, Nev…”
“Yes,” Dumbledore cut in, “Ginny. You, of course, had your other friends, but Ginny was there. Whenever she could, she helped you, defended you, protected you.”
“I know,” Harry said, “but I still don’t understand what this has to do with Albus.”
“Harry,” Dumbledore patiently replied. “Ron and Hermione were there by your side practically from the beginning. The three of you, the golden trio, you could say, did just about everything together. But there was someone else who wanted to be by your side, who would have done anything for you because from the time she was a little girl she was in love with you.”
A look of understanding began to creep across Harry’s face as Dumbledore continued. “Most of the time, all Ginny could do was wait and hope. Hope that you would survive. Hope that you would eventually come back to her, seeing you face certain death again and again. I don’t know if you or anyone will ever understand how painful it was for her to feel so helpless.”
“Then,” Harry said slowly, “because Albus is so like me . . .” His expression cleared and he smiled, picturing his wife in the hospital wing with his son, making sure he knew he was loved and assuring him he was never ignored or dismissed. Maybe he just needed to be more patient with her. After all, the boy was turning out just fine.
“Yes.” Dumbledore answered, “I can see you understand now. She couldn’t protect you because she was only a little girl. But she can protect Albus. She may not even know it, Harry, but I imagine that each time she fusses over him, or frets over a little injury, or makes sure he’s safe, she is actually taking care of you.”
Gift for: dorotdsz
Pairing: Harry/Ginny; Dumbledore painting
Rating: G
Word Count: 1880
Summary: Harry can’t figure out why Ginny fusses so much over Albus. But another Albus might have some insight.
Author's Notes: Hope this works for you, dorotdsz. I know you wanted details about the Ginny/Albus relationship as well as Harry talking to Dumbledore. This is what I managed to come up with.
Harry Potter strolled purposefully along the empty corridor leading the Headmistress’s office. Although he was older and had been an Auror for a number of years, he still had a young, almost boyish, face and unkempt black hair. In spite of his youthful appearance, worry and frustration reflected in his deep green eyes and was expressed with tight, pursed lips. He seemed to not even notice the brilliant golds and reds of autumn leaves reflecting in the sunlight through the high glass windows along the corridor.
Harry was thinking of his son Albus, mending in the hospital wing after a bludger smashed into his back and knocked him from his broom during Quidditch practice. Both he and Ginny had received an owl announcing Albus’ accident and Ginny had insisted they come north to Hogwarts to make sure he was all right. After only fifteen minutes of watching Ginny fuss over Albus, Harry decided to take Professor McGonagal up on her standing offer to visit her in her office any time he happened to be at the school.
Harry arrived at the Gargoyle and gave the password to enter and go up to the office. “Haggis,” he stated clearly, thinking of the difference between Albus Dumbledore’s penchant for candies and Minerva McGonagal’s love for everything Scottish, including haggis of all things. Harry ascended the winding staircase and entered into the Headmistress’s office, calling out Professor McGonagal’s name.
Unfortunately, the office was empty. Assuming she had been called away on some urgent matter and feeling a little uncomfortable staying without her knowledge, Harry turned to leave, then heard a familiar voice. He looked over at the portrait of Albus Dumbledore, still hanging in the place of honor behind the headmistress’s desk.
“Harry, my boy,” the painting of Dumbledore beamed at him. “So good to see you. Don’t rush off. Minerva will be thrilled and she shouldn’t be gone long. Make yourself comfortable.” Harry sat down in a plaid overstuffed, high-back chair and attempted a smile that seemed to be more of a grimace while Dumbledore eyed him carefully. After an awkward moment of silence, Dumbledore asked cheerily, “So how is my little namesake?”
“What?” Harry asked, startled out of his deep thoughts. “You mean Albus?”
“Well, yes,” Dumbledore replied with a bemused smile. “How many namesakes do I have?”
“Not many, which can’t be that much of a surprise,” Harry commented, and then, realizing how rude that sounded, hastened to add, “I mean, with the name of Albus. You have quite a few namesakes with your other names.”
“Good heavens,” Dumbledore replied in mock horror, “I hope no little wizard was stuck with Wulfric.”
“Oh no,” Harry answered, “most often they’re named Percival or Brian. They’re a little less . . . um, odd.”
“Of course,” Dumbledore replied with a smile. “You know, I never really did like the name Albus.”
“Really?” Harry’s eyes widened in surprise.
“No. Would You? My mother had a particular love for names that started with A. Especially unusual names.” Dumbledore paused reflectively and then continued with a wide grin. “But happily enough, I was the firstborn son rather than the second.”
Harry grinned back at him. “Don’t like the name of Aberforth, either? Hmm, yes, I think you had better name. But don’t ever tell Ginny you didn’t like the name Albus. She tried really hard to convince me to name him Brian.”
“Well,” Dumbledore replied with a familiar twinkle in his painted blue eyes, “I can see how the initials B.S. Potter would have been better than A.S.P.” Harry raised one eyebrow and sighed, the discussion about Albus only aggravating him more.
Dumbledore watched for a minute and then spoke again. “I have noticed your Albus a few times last year and this. He looks just like you. And he seems very happy here, settling in just fine.”
“Except now,” Harry muttered darkly. “He’s in the hospital wing and . . .”
Dumbledore frowned. “Albus is injured? Is it serious?” Harry shook his head quickly, but didn’t finish his sentence and after a moment, Dumbledore disappeared from the painting. He returned a few short minutes later looking relieved. “Harry, dear boy, you and Ginny need not be concerned. I have checked on him myself and Poppy says Albus will be just fine in a very short time. He only fell a few feet. Don’t forget the old joke: ‘There are three things that fall in the autumn at Hogwarts, temperatures, leaves, and Quidditch players.’”
Harry looked up from studying the worn spots in the carpet. “I reminded her of that one. She wasn’t amused.” He winced at the memory of her biting retort.
“But this is good news, right? ”
“Yes, of course, it’s good news,” Harry replied. “I knew he would be just fine. We knew before we came that he was going to be fine.”
“I see,” Dumbledore said. “Then if you don’t mind my asking, why did you and Ginny come to Hogwarts? The injury was minor compared to some our students sustain although of course Quidditch injuries can be tricky at times. But you, yourself, made so many visits to the hospital wing that some faculty suggested naming it after you. And somehow we always got you healed up. So, tell me what’s really bothering you.”
After a long pause, Harry slowly answered, “ We didn’t need to come here but Ginny insisted. Anytime Albus even gets the slightest bruise, she frets and fusses over him. I keep telling Ginny she’s smothering the boy but she doesn’t listen. She just keeps babying him.”
“Perhaps you’re overreacting?”
“I’m not,” Harry shot back. “Other people have noticed - both James and Lily call Albus ‘Babypants,’ and Lily’s younger. Both Ron and Hermione have tried to talk to her about it. George has purposely tried to toughen Albus up away from her clutches, but no matter what anybody says, she just keeps going. She has a one-track mind about that boy.”
Dumbledore nodded and tapped his chin. “Hmmm.”
“And let me give you some more examples. James was in charge of feeding our crup by the age of 5. Albus wasn’t even allowed in the same room before he was 7. Ginny insists I’m remembering that wrong, but Hermione keeps a journal and I’ve seen the entries. I know I’m right. And then there’s flying and Quidditch. James was on a broom and flying around our place when he was no older than 4 and Lily Luna started at an even younger age. Ginny kept saying how she started sneaking her brothers’ broomsticks when she was really small and that Lily Luna should have the experience of flying when she’s young so she won’t be nervous. “
“I assume this was not the case with Albus?” Dumbledore asked with interest.
“I could barely get him on a broomstick without Ginny insisting he was going to fall and get hurt,” Harry answered with a perplexed expression. “In fact, he really didn’t do much flying until he came to Hogwarts. And this year, with him being on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Ginny has been beside herself with terror, sure he would get injured. She reminded me, loudly, about that today when I told her we shouldn’t come, and that was before I told the joke.” He winced again, hoping she’d eventually get over her pique.
“How does Albus feel about Ginny’s protectiveness?”
“I’m not sure,” Harry replied, thinking for a moment. “Actually, I don’t think he minds. He shrugs off James’ teasing and it doesn’t seem to bother him. He’s very close to Ginny. They always have been that way, literally since the minute he was born. I sometimes worried about James feeling like Albus had somehow ruined his life, but he’s remarkably well-adjusted anyway.”
“I see,” Dumbledore replied as he stroked his painted beard. “It is quite remarkable how much Albus looks like you, Harry. Sometimes he walks in here and I forget you’re grown and not likely to wear Hogwarts robes. He has your same facial expressions. He carries himself the way you did.”
“Yeah,” Harry agreed with a grin, “he’s almost as scrawny as I was when I came to Hogwarts.”
“Exactly,” Dumbledore replied. He then asked, “What are some of your first memories of Ginny?”
“I remember her chasing after the Hogwarts Express the first year. And,” Harry chuckled as he pictured the event, “I remember the first time I visited the Burrow, Ginny put her elbow in the butter dish. She was pretty embarrassed so I tried not to show I’d seen it.”
“Yes, yes,” Dumbledore responded with a smile, “but what happened when Arthur and Molly took you and their children to Diagon Alley to buy school supplies?”
“Draco Malfoy was acting like a git and Ginny jumped between us and started yelling at him.”
“Yes,” Dumbledore said. “Arthur told me about that shortly after it happened.”
“Okay,” Harry replied, puzzled at the direction of the conversation. “What has that to do with Albus? Um, my Albus?”
“Why, it has everything to do with him, Harry.” Dumbledore was obviously enjoying himself. “Tell me, Harry, who went with you to the Ministry of Magic when you tried to save Sirius Black?”
“Of course, Ron and Hermione. Also, Ginny, Nev…”
“Yes,” Dumbledore cut in, “Ginny. You, of course, had your other friends, but Ginny was there. Whenever she could, she helped you, defended you, protected you.”
“I know,” Harry said, “but I still don’t understand what this has to do with Albus.”
“Harry,” Dumbledore patiently replied. “Ron and Hermione were there by your side practically from the beginning. The three of you, the golden trio, you could say, did just about everything together. But there was someone else who wanted to be by your side, who would have done anything for you because from the time she was a little girl she was in love with you.”
A look of understanding began to creep across Harry’s face as Dumbledore continued. “Most of the time, all Ginny could do was wait and hope. Hope that you would survive. Hope that you would eventually come back to her, seeing you face certain death again and again. I don’t know if you or anyone will ever understand how painful it was for her to feel so helpless.”
“Then,” Harry said slowly, “because Albus is so like me . . .” His expression cleared and he smiled, picturing his wife in the hospital wing with his son, making sure he knew he was loved and assuring him he was never ignored or dismissed. Maybe he just needed to be more patient with her. After all, the boy was turning out just fine.
“Yes.” Dumbledore answered, “I can see you understand now. She couldn’t protect you because she was only a little girl. But she can protect Albus. She may not even know it, Harry, but I imagine that each time she fusses over him, or frets over a little injury, or makes sure he’s safe, she is actually taking care of you.”