For the Greater Good: Part One [Fic]
For the Greater Good
Summary: Albus Dumbledore’s life, secrets and weaknesses through the eyes of Minerva McGonagall. One Shot.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything in relation to Harry Potter. If I did, I would be swimming in a vat of money and small change.
Pairings: Gellert/Albus
Warnings: None really
AN: This oneshot was along time coming. For so long I have had these thoughts swirling through my head. I never felt up to the task of writing it all down and when I finally did start, I found it nearly impossible to stop. This fic may be long but I’m very pleased with it. Please, if you do find any details in there, which you don’t agree with (or think are correct), don’t hesitate to review and tell me what they are! ☺
So it's from Minerva's point of view!
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Minerva was a good Witch.
She was careful with her spells and never hasty in their casts. She always taught her children with a firm hand and she always obeyed her orders. Occasionally, she even allowed her students to view her as a person, rather then a teacher.
However, she was also human. She was occasionally allowed herself to walk as Minerva and not as a professor. This small, mostly private side to her personality had one peculiar fixation.
Her employer intrigued her. The feeling was beyond anything she had ever felt before. He was calming and reassuring but with that ever present menace of power that shied even the greatest wizards from his level.
She had first seen him when she was but a child. Her mother had lived and raised her through the war. Her father was hardly ever at home; he would leave in the morning and return at night. When her father would leave, her mother would bite her lips, wipe a hand across her eyes and make her breakfast. She never truly recovered from that stress and anxiety. Even after the war had been fought and won, she would clutch a hand to her chest as she read the Daily Prophet. The headlines usually played with the name of Gellert Grindelwald. They once called him their saviour, an inspiration and a genius. Now, such words as disgraceful, inhumane and disturbed were usually associated with his name. On good days, when she was happy and serene, a picture of Albus Dumbledore would be strewn across the front page. On her worse, the prison of Nuremberg would cast its gloomy shadow across the font.
The sight of that terrifying, gothic prison had infuriated her. She hated the days when her mother would sit on the couch and simply stare at the fireplace, her hair dishevelled and grey. Eventually, she would snatch up the newspapers before her mother and search it for any mention, any at all, of what could possibly set her off. Her mother would simply smile sadly at sight of a cut out on page one and would ignore the stealthy way her daughter slid the scissors back into their draw. She tore up every picture she cut out.
Eventually, Hogwarts beckoned her. The minute she stepped onto the train, she had truly felt normal. Other children whizzed past her, their excited laughs filling the compartments to either side. As she entered one, her mother had pulled out a hankie and waved it solemnly at the departing train, tears in her eyes. Minerva tried not to cry for her sake and swore to send her an owl every moment she could.
She loved the food and the way that the stairs moved as if on a whim. She loved moving in time with the footsteps of a painted knight and then walking out into the snow and cold to see a grey tentacle lift itself from a far off part of the lake. Her great love of the school, though, was her classes. Everything about them filled her with awe. The idea of creating a potion to cure anything from acne to bad luck enthralled her mind. However, no class filled her with more excitement, happiness and pride then Transfiguration. She could attribute that to many things: she loved the way the sun fell through the windows or being able to turn a parrot into a lamp but most of all, she loved being taught by Professor Dumbledore. He was an odd man, interesting and obviously a genius but never false or conceited. She loved watching him simply wave his wand and perform a spell so complex and unique that her mouth would literally fall open at seeing it. She liked to think that she was his favourite.
Girls teased her about her fixation on the Professor all the time. They said it was strange and that she was obsessed. But she wasn’t. She was simple amazed. Amazed that so great a wizard preferred to teach students then to change the world. It was then that he implanted the first seed of thought into her brain. Perhaps, to him, teaching changed the world. After all, the values that were instilled in her generation would be carried into adulthood and eventually, would shape the Wizarding world. Sometimes, that thought filled her a sense of pride and sometimes, fear.
Dumbledore soon ascended the hierarchy of command and it was with a sense of warmth that she acknowledged his new position. Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She could almost hear the groan of disapproval from the Slytherins and their parents. She knew that a new era had begun and with it, a sense of urgency filled her body. A new outlook was cast over Diagon Alley. No longer were the windows bordered up or the drains blocked with gunk and old newspapers. Witches and Wizards walked throughout the shops with genuine smiles and laughter echoed down its paved corridors. The stain of Grindelwald had finally been eroded.
The years rushed her by and soon; she was cast out into the world. Other students had passed onto training, their ambitious natures leading them naturally to the position of Aurors. Some students, who were quiet and submissive, applied for positions in the Ministry. All of them fine with living a life filled with paper work and regulations. She knew that neither of these occupations were for her; she had greater things planned. Her first actions were to travel, to see the Europe and discover and hoard whatever knowledge she could. She visited the place where her uncle had died and placed flowers over the cold, harsh mound. No tears trickled down her face but a strange melancholy descended upon her that day. Even the trees, with their golden leaves and creaking limbs seemed to join in this atmosphere.
When she was ready, she ascended the steep slope to Hogwarts once again. She didn’t need an advertisement in the Daily Prophet to announce her chosen path. There was a small glimmer of vanity and hope in her heart and she hoped that Professor Dumbledore would recognize her. She wished more than anything to live in the halls, to pass a weekend on the grounds and wake to the sight of the sun shining upon the luscious grounds of the castle. She wanted to sit next to the Headmaster at meals and look down upon her students and feel the awe that was pouring off them. Most of all, she wanted to share her love of Transfiguration.
Her hope was rewarded as the faint shine to the Headmasters eyes accompanied her entry. He laid aside a great roll of parchment as he gazed upon her, his beard already long and speckled with grey, “Ah, Minerva McGonagall. I was expecting you.”
She tried to conceal the shock of his instant recognition as a small sense of pride awoke in her. “Professor Dumbledore,” she acknowledged with a wistful smile.
He smiled knowingly over his half moon spectacles, the brilliance of his mind seeping through the large, bushy eyebrows. “Am I correct in assuming that you are here to apply for a position on my staff?”
“Your assumptions are most certainly correct.”
“And, judging by your devotion to Transfiguration, I am also correct in assuming that you wish to fill this position?”
“That is my wish, yes.”
“Ah, so my assumptions were correct,” his eyes twinkled merrily as he swept a long hand over to the sweets bowl, “Would you care for a Lemon Drop?”
She couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow to the strange question. She had to once again remind herself that Professor Dumbledore was a rather odd man. If anything, his oddities seemed to increase with his age and wisdom, as if it was rising to compensate for the other excelling traits he possessed. As she refused the offer politely, she saw him give a strange, sad smile at the refusal. As if it was a test she had just failed. She suddenly felt rather insecure and the gravity of her situation impressed itself fully upon her.
“Now, I believe it is time for a rather simple question to be asked. Why do you wish to teach Transfiguration?” His eyes were focused now as he regarded her. It was a simple question, as he had said, but it seemed incredibly difficult for her to form the correct words. In her head, the answer was obvious and her frustration mounted at her stubborn mouth.
“I… As you know, Headmaster, I was once a student in your classes,” he nodded and leaned forward, his hands pressed together, “Your class… it filled me with such a sense of purpose as to raise an intense passion for the subject. I have an excellent record of achievements for the subject, including a number of awards and as many letters of recommendations as you could wish for. It is my hope to guide this new generation onto a new path, a path that is not obstructed by war and misery.”
“And if, perchance,” he said solemnly, “war does cast its grey shadow across this path?”
“Then I,” said Minerva with a great sense of urgency, “shall teach my students all that they need to know.”
“Yes,” said Dumbledore serenely as he leaned back, “that is what I hoped.”
A pregnant silence fell over the room and Minerva lifted her eyes from the mesmerizing movements of the Headmaster and gazed around the room. She immediately noticed the amount of objects that cluttered it. Spinning, falling and rotating at different speeds, the room seemed to be full of foreign oddities. They all shined brightly and a few, every moment or so would emit a small chime to announce its presence. Despite these strange objects and the portraits of old, snoring Headmasters, it was peaceful. There was a sense of order and calm in the room, as if it were patiently waiting for each Headmaster to fulfil his duties and appoint the next in line.
Professor Dumbledore regarded her evenly, “I am but a year into my career and already, I have had expressions of distaste at my appointment…. I wish to inform you that by agreeing to teach at my school and by joining my faculty, you are aligning yourself with a Wizard that is not entirely liked.” A great shadow passed over his face, as if all the sorrows in the world had been heaped upon his shoulders. She felt intimidated by the seriousness of his expression and the way that his almost unblinking eyes had eliminated their trademark twinkle.
She did not hesitate in her reply, “I understand.”
The ghost of the shadow lifted and a smile graced his features again, “Excellent. Then, Miss McGonagall, may I congratulate you on your new position. I am sure that the staff will be most pleased to have such an accomplished Witch joining their ranks.”
Her smile felt so genuine and wide that it threatened to crack her face. She eagerly shook hands with the old Wizard, an emotion of gratitude and fulfilment welling inside of her at his proud expression. Soon, she would be walking through the halls and entering her private room. Soon, she would be decorating her classroom and planning her first lesson. Soon, little children, filled with wonder and awe, would stream through wooden doors and set their bags on her classroom floor.
She listened to his instructions to reach her room and turned as soon as he had finished, ready to set up her new life.
The days passed in a blur.
She had applied while no children filled the halls. She had grown used to the sound of her own footsteps echoing throughout the high roofed rooms. The staff had welcomed her as if she was an old friend, showing her around the castle and preparing her for the worst and best students. She looked forward to the occasional moments when she would bump into the Headmaster. He often walked about the grounds in silence or stood at the railing of the astronomy tower. Sometimes, he would disappear for days at a time, only to reappear slightly bent and older then before with great bags under his eyes. She passed her time by reading, planning and eating.
It wasn’t long before the doors to the great hall banged open and hundreds of bright-eyed children streamed into the room. Her introduction was met with claps and a few interested gazes but she was relieved at the overall lack of interest the children showed. Soon, she was inspiring a mingling of respect and terror in the children as she stood above them fiercely. She knew that her tall figure could be imposing and it wasn’t above her to use that as a type of intimidation.
Before she knew it, years passed.
Still, her fascination for the Headmaster continued to maintain its high level. He had proven himself more then capable for the job and soon, even those that had opposed him begrudgingly gave him respect. He demonstrated his immense magical power occasionally but its effect was enough to silence any hesitation about his strength. And yet, he still indulged in candy and hoarded his strange, silver instruments in his room.
In those years of relative peace, once incident occurred that always resounded with her.
It was common knowledge that in the highest and most secure prison cell in all of Nurmengard, Gellert Grindelwald was confined. Surrounding this secure and vastly high cell were the most skilled Wizards from Britain. Despite this security, Grindelwald would occasionally risk an escape. It was futile, everyone knew it was, but he still tried. Even if he had did venture beyond its cold walls and run into the country, those who lived without loved ones because of him would pursue him until his, or their, death. However, that notion of revenge did not seem to affect him as yet again, he attempted another escape.
It often slipped her mind that her colleague and friend had battled one of the most dangerous wizards in history. On that morning, the full extent of his attempted escape dawned on her and with the Daily Prophet clasped in her hands she ascended the Headmasters stairs.
She knocked once and a worn and tired voice greeted her, “Come in, Minerva.”
It unnerved her how he always knew it was she. She opened the door and slipped inside the familiar room, starting at the sight of Dumbledore standing next to his window. He was gazing out at the grand landscape, his face hidden from her view as she asked, “So, you have seen the news.”
He sighed and the sound was so tiring to her ears that she felt her heart twinge in sympathy for him, “Yes, I have seen it.”
She asked hesitantly, “Is there any truth in its words?”
“Which ones?” He turned to her and she saw that his eyes looked haunted and strange against his pale face.
“It is believed that Gellert Grindelwald attempted his daring escape in the early hours of Tuesday’s morning. The bodies of two guards were found, fortunately, their lives intact, although the cell of Grindelwald’s prison appeared empty. Upon further investigation and a lengthy manhunt for the infamous mass murderer and Dark Lord, he was discovered in a nearby forest, armed with the wand of an injured guard. Three Wizards were injured in the struggle to restrain him and are currently being treated in St Mungo’s Hospital. When asked why he had attempted such a reckless and futile escape, Grindelwald’s stated that he was, ‘…simply hoping to have a word with Albus.’ The Daily Prophet has attempted to obtain a statement from Albus Dumbledore, the current Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but where declined at the mere mention of the incident.” She stumbled over a few of the words as she read, feeling foolish as she repeated the obviously known words to the Wizard.
“Ah, yes. There is truth in those words. Gellert did attempt an escape and he did try to find his way to me.”
She was shocked at the infamous wizard’s audacity. That he had tried to hunt for his defeater shocked her sensibilities. She did not understand how Dumbledore could stand so quietly at the window, while such a terrifying event was strewn across the papers. She noticed, absentmindedly, that he had used the Wizard’s first name.
“Professor, I do not know how you can be so calm! He attempted to find you, to hunt you down!”
The old Wizard chuckled under his breath and Minerva raised an eyebrow at the strange behaviour. After a while, he spoke, “I hardly think he was trying to ‘hunt’ me down.”
“Perhaps that is a poor choice of words but surely his intentions were evil.”
“Perhaps not.” She paused as he continued, “I believe he simple wished to talk to me.”
“I hardly believe that he would simply wish to talk with his defeater.”
“I suppose he would be quite upset that I haven’t visited him in so long.”
She gaped at the Headmaster, hardly believing her ears, “You visit Grindelwald?”
He once again gazed out at the landscape and spoke softly, “On occasion. He has such interesting views on today’s politics. He must have been impatient to speak with me if he was willing to crawl all the way to my doorstep.”
“Headmaster, I am struggling to comprehend what you are saying. You visit your greatest enemy?”
“Minerva, it was necessary that Gellert was stopped but… I have long dismissed the notion of him being my enemy. It is not I that he tortured and murdered but it was only I that knew how to defeat him.”
She didn’t speak for a while as she watched his expression. It was pained and filled with a sadness she had never witnessed before. Even her mother’s eyes, when she had watched her husband from the sitting room’s window didn’t hold the same depth of emotion that his did. Her father’s face as he heard the news of his brother, fallen in war and buried in a foreign country, only held a slight mirror to the expression on her employers face. She knew in that instance, that Dumbledore hid a part of the story from her and from everyone.
“What is he like?”
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, “Who?”
“Grindelwald.”
His pause was long, “He was and is…” The old wizard suddenly turned his face from hers and she could hear the slow rumble of age and knowledge in his voice as he spoke, “Minerva, would you act as my Deputy? I feel the need to vacation.”
Her heart leapt. She had always dreamed of the honour, of the responsibility of being Headmistress. Her concern had always been her classes; she knew that to be headmistress would be to give up the intimacy of teaching. She would be barred behind an old oak desk. The chance to be Deputy Headmistress allowed her both options. Her heart soared. “If you are sure?”
“Of course, Minerva. You have proven yourself most capable.” She glowed with pride at his words. In some corner of her mind she wondered why his words seemed to affect him so much, why she cared so much about his approval. Her mind rested on her father for a moment before she banished her thoughts from him and from her doe eyed mother who sat in the sitting room crying.
“Thank you, Headmaster.”
“Albus, please, call me Albus,” she smiled softly at the way he spoke, “I believe that if you are to be Deputy Headmistress, it would also be appropriate for you to be Head of Gryffindor House. I believe that is your preference, is it not?”
“Indeed it is, Albus. I have a strong sense of loyalty to my house and it would be the highest honour to lead it.”
“Then it shall be your responsibility… I shall not be long, perhaps a week or so.”
She acknowledged the dismissal and smiled at him again, before walking out of the room. She heard a painting ask slowly from inside, “Do you really think that is wise,” as she left. Her heart rushed with anticipation and nervousness, the reality of her position falling upon her person. She had earned both the title of Deputy Headmistress and of the Head of Gryffindor House in one meeting. She wondered what she could achieve at the next.
Dumbledore left that night, after dinner. There was a general cheer of happiness at the announcement of her positions, although the Slytherin House sulked moodily in its strangely shadowed corner. She thought that she would miss Dumbledore, in a strange way, but as the week rolled on and her responsibilities increased, she found herself immersed in her job. Besides teaching, leading and representing, she somehow had to fit in eating, sleeping and drinking, a task she found most difficult. By the end of the week, her respect for Dumbledore grew to its greatest heights, especially considering his advanced age.
She was glad to see his twinkling eyes again.
However, the new addition to Dumbledore’s office shocked her into a state of momentary paralysis. As she swept into the office, hoping to greet the Headmaster with a smile, she noticed a pile of ashes on a gold plate behind his desk. Albus was standing over it, a small, fond smile on his face as he watched the pile, which moved under his gaze. Walking quietly over to him, she gave a small gasp as a head appeared and a small, young body fell out of the pile and rolled onto the plate with an indignant squawk.
“Ah, may I introduce you to my new friend, Fawkes.” Said the Headmaster merrily as he scooped the small bird up and placed him into the pile of ashes again. It trilled happily upon reaching it, looking at the Headmaster with intelligent, compassionate eyes.
“I-Is that a Phoenix?” She breathed faintly.
“And a fine one at that. He will have quite the colour in his adult years.”
“Merlin, how on earth did you find a Phoenix? I thought you were meant to be resting!” The small bird looked at her quizzically as she talked, it’s beak opening and shutting awkwardly.
“I did not find, Fawkes. He found me. That is the way with Phoenix’s.” Said the old Wizard. He put out an old, bony hand to the cheek of the bird and it rubbed a small cheek against his skin happily. It’s featherless wings flapped in semblance of a dog wagging his tail.
“This is quite astonishing. Albus, you really are remarkable.” His eyes twinkled to its highest degree. She couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of him patting a Phoenix’s head as his eyes shone with happiness and mischief. The scene was so strangely like him that her heart slowed to its regular pace and she accepted that some things just where. Some Wizard’s will somehow defeat Dark Lords, become Headmasters and attract Phoenix’s. It was just their lot. When she thought about the way his eyes looked when he spoke of Grindelwald, she didn’t feel an ounce of jealousy. In fact, she felt a secret bit of relief at the idea of simply being a sheep. After her week of leading the school, she was ready to fall behind the tapestry and take her former position.
As the months and then, eventually the years passed, Fawkes rose ever higher from the ashes. He grew strangely, his feathers sprouting into a delicate and elegant tail and plumage. She tried to act as friendly as she could to the constant presence of the ever growing bird but it was difficult to establish any grounds. Fawkes treated her with a distant apathy, the same kind of disinterested manner that a relative would give to a cousin or a new wife. She felt slightly wary of the intelligent, deep eyes that would trail her every movement, as if he was waiting for a moment in which to protect his master. His actions became increasingly possessive and guarded, his body only relaxing at the sight of his loving carer and foster father.
With his birth came the birth of a new era.
They noticed the whispers, the small signs of warning, which would sprout up occasionally. It wasn’t long before a new word entered their vocabulary: Death Eater. They were the darkest of the Wizarding world. Rebellious, violent and corrupt, they would sway to whatever whim was required of them. Their vicious sneering faces slinked behind their master: a Lord of the dark whom she recognized immediately as being Tom Riddle.
Dumbledore spent hours quizzing her about her years as a student. She had been only a few years above the boy and the Headmaster knew that a student had a completely different perspective to school life then a teacher. She didn’t know a lot. Just that the boy was sullen and strangely charming. He had a seductively evil appeal about him, which gave the Hufflepuff’s shivers, the Ravenclaw’s frowns and the Gryffindor’s fury. He had potential in those years. He was intelligent and cunning, resourceful to the extreme and he had a natural gift of leadership. They had expected him to astound the world as Dumbledore had, to fill every newspaper with his exploits. However, he had simply vanished. Only the faintest whispers in Knockturn Alley revealed his intentions.
Eventually, new teachers filled the classrooms and with them, new students. Among the hundreds that passed through her classroom, a few remained forever in her mind. The Marauders where among those students she remembered vividly.
“Minerva, I believe we have a rather interesting addition to the student body this year.”
The Headmaster was observing her as she perched on the edge of her seat. It was a week or so before the semester was due to start and she was, yet again, consulting with the Headmaster on her duties as a Deputy. Hardly a day went by without her seeing him and she noticed with a sense of satisfaction and relief that the pain had faded in his eyes since her first appointment as teacher. He was as regal as ever, his large elegant chair acting as a mock throne for him to recline in.
He spoke again; gazing over his half moon spectacles, “Tell me, Minerva, what is your opinion on Werewolves?”
She started, “Does this subject have particular relevance to the interesting addition?”
“Soon, all shall be explained. But first, your answer!”
“I suppose that I am alright with their existence. That is not to say that they don’t terrify me or that I agree with their actions but I think they must be rather disadvantaged by their condition.”
“So, you are opposed to them?”
“Oh, heavens no. I hardly think they volunteered to be bitten and I’m sure that each transformation is a gruelling affair. I have read that they are quite normal between moons; it is only when they approach the time of change that they act irrationally. If I had it my way, for those twenty or so days that they were normal, they would be treated as every other magical being is: with respect. Of course, those other days are an entirely different matter.”
“Then I suppose that having a werewolf as a student will be acceptable?”
“R-Really, Albus. You don’t mind to say-“
“I do indeed, Minerva.”
“Have you considered what this means?”
“I have. Extensively.”
“But not even just in terms of the student bodies safety but politically, this could create quite the stir.”
“And that,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes, “Is why the small fact of him being a werewolf shall not be known.”
“Even for you, Headmaster, this is surprising.”
He sighed, “I would not wish any child to miss out on the opportunity to live and learn at Hogwarts. If he is able and willing, then I must allow him that chance.”
She gazed at him fondly, her lips pinched together in an effort to control her emotions. He had always been an upstanding man, full of passion and energy for any cause. It seemed to her that he only took great strides in his efforts to mend the cracks of the world, never small steps. Despite this act of generosity and compassion, she noticed that strange flicker in his eyes that warned her of his intelligence and cunning. She wondered what had ignited it and what memory he was reliving in his brilliant mind.
She met the boy: Remus Lupin, on a cloudy afternoon. He smiled up at her imposing figure with a shaky expression, as if he expected her to raise a hand at any moment. His shoulders where downcast and his eyes tired, much to tired for any child. She knew in that moment that they had made the right choice. The look on his parent’s faces when they had seen the Shrieking Shack and the Whomping Willow warmed her entire body. It was slightly grotesque that a run down old house and a violently possessed tree inspired tears of gratitude in the Lupin’s eyes. The boy had drawn a hand over his eyes as he had walked into the great hall for the first time.
It wasn’t until the student’s where settled and sorted that she noticed their uniqueness. A Black in the Gryffindor House. She had to hide a shiver of disgust. The image of pale, carefully modelled faces entered her mind and she felt like cursing a statue until it danced and fell to the ground in a heap of rubble. She could see the snarls of disapproval erupt from the Slytherin House, Regulas Black standing up in passion and anger at the sight of his younger brother waltzing to the Gryffindor table. She wondered whether the boy was nervous as he sat between the Lupin boy and another black haired child. Even the seventh year students seemed oddly anxious about the night, perhaps because it was the last that they would be forced to sit through. She caught Albus’ eye and pursed her lips forebodingly at him. He turned away slowly and glanced towards the young Black who was serving himself some Yorkshire Pudding.
In retrospect, it had been one of the most monumental moments of her life. It had forged the legendary friendship of Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, James Potter and Peter Pettigrew. If it had not been for that joke whispered in Sirius’ ear or the grin shot at Remus, there would be no group effort to bring Lily and James together, no child born to them and no great defeat of a menacing Dark Lord. If not for that seemingly unimportant night in the great scheme of her life, events would have turned out so drastically different that it hurt her head just to think about it.
As the lives of the Marauders began to flourish, so to did the rising power of Tom Riddle. Slytherin was a constant pool of whispering and plotting. All children within the house seemed to have ties to at least one minion on the Dark Lord. Every so often, there would be a reminder of that connection: a savagely cruel beating, a threat spoken that no child should be able to understand. The menace of the shadow crawled up her spine with each month, rising to reach an inevitable and terrible climax. Dumbledore’s spark of energy struggled at first under this shadow. It was cruelly unfair that he had to fight yet another Dark Lord. She couldn’t even imagine the idea of leading a revolution at one hundred or so, let alone at her age. But still, the shadow would not allow itself to be ignored.
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So because this is such a long story, I'm going to post in two parts. However, I'm going to do it at the same time because it's meant to be a oneshot!
Here's the link to part two:
Part Two