For the Greater Good: Part Two [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
Part Two
~
Dumbledore’s disappearances were sparser and shorter as the shadow grew. She knew, in some far off corner of her mind, that he could very well being visiting Grindelwald. That for just one day every month or year, he would ascend the steep tower to the Wizard’s cell and peer into its dark interior. Her mind persisted with the notion of him sitting in a cottage, drinking a cup of tea as he rested. It was only that small corner which reminded her that Grindelwald had not attempted escape for years now. It sometimes occurred to her that his last attempt had been to pursue Albus and that this attempt at fleeing had desisted at his running to this call. Her mind knew of the connection but she could not fathom the concept. How could such public enemies stand in the same room or, Merlin forbid, talk of politics?
A few years after the legendary Marauders and their classmates were graduated, the threat became a reality. It was then, that that Dumbledore revealed his plan and, to her horror, the involvement of Lily and James in these events. His eyes were suspicious and scattered as he told her and she wondered what else he concealed. He took her to an old house, decrepit and tattered in a sleepy, forgotten town called Godric’s Hollow. She saw that same melancholy look on his face as he walked up to the gate. She noted with a macabre fascination that the Headmaster’s hands shook as he swung the gate open slowly. It creaked at the movement.
He had already been to the small cottage; that was apparent. His face was carefully composed as he looked around the small sitting room and spoke to her softly, “This cottage will protect them.”
“You do not believe that they’ll simply lock themselves away from the world?”
“What choice,” he said with an exasperated sigh, “do they have?”
“To stand up to the enemy! To fight!”
A laugh that she had never heard before escaped from the Headmaster’s mouth. The laugh was condescending, patronizing and a little bit insulting. It sounded like something that he had tried to conceal for years, “War is never that simple, Minerva.”
“War?”
“Oh, yes. War will descend upon us as it did decades ago. Another generation, lost to hatred and violence.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I have many eyes and ears alert to the whisperings of the underground. Their whispers are a warning of what is to come.”
“… And this war surrounds Lily and James?”
“It surrounds their fate. Hopefully, it will not be too severe.”
“How much do you know of this fate?” She said this cautiously.
“Enough to be concerned but not enough to act upon that concern.”
“I see.”
He regarded her in the dark of the cottage. He had cast a simple Lumos charm upon entering the small room and as she joined him, their wand tips created a wall of shadows around them. Until the room was furnished and glowing with the warm licks of fire, she would continue to feel an ominous presence creep upon her.
He spoke slowly, as if his words had a particular importance to them. “Minerva, I may have achieved great things in my life but I am, and always shall be, but a human. I can not take the woes of the Wizarding World upon my shoulders yet again.”
She nodded, her lips pursed tightly together as she saw a new, vulnerable side of her employer. She wandered whether his parents had been proud of him.
They returned to the school that night and met with a very pregnant Lily and an extremely stressed James. They advised them as to how they would make the move and what, most importantly, a Secret Keeper was. She would never forget the look that Lily gave James as she spoke those words or the sight of her hand as it rubbed her belly affectionately.
When Harry Potter was born, Dumbledore visited him for the first time with Minerva. He was born in Godric’s Hollow, his small presence having to be concealed from even the eyes of the nurses. He was a quiet bundle; his eyes were large and still blue. Lily’s hair was plastered to her face, the obvious streaks of tears lining her pale face. James was grinning happily, his eyes gazing in wonder at the small, quiet bundle in his arms. Dumbledore’s eyes glittered as he saw the small boy, his eyes watching him with a kind of wonder that Minerva had never seen before. Sirius was sitting beside the new parents silently, for the first time in perfect stillness.
That year, she was assigned by the Headmaster to Privet Drive. She took the form of an inconspicuous tabby cat. It was her tedious and rather boring job to watch a certain muggle family. She hadn’t been informed of why she was watching the relations of Lily but once again, the tension of the situation informed her of something serious. They were odd and rather appalling, despite their want of propriety.
The year was filled with watching, waiting and listening.
A year from that birth, on a night when children flew around the streets in their costumes and make up, on a night when bats were celebrated and her people exposed their oddities with a childish glee, Lily and James died.
That night, a silver Phoenix flew into her office and pronounced in a solemn, familiar voice, “He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has fallen.” Her excitement was only contained by the terrifying rumours, which spread like wild fire at the news.
The Headmaster’s decision to room Harry with his relatives was not a unanimous decision. However, she was once again clueless to the rationale behind such a choice. She would visit the house every few months and watch the small, black haired child wander behind his relatives with solemn, green eyes. He would tug at the dress of his aunt and mutter a small whimper of pain. She would return to Dumbledore in a fit of rage and reproach. His eyes would shine mournfully at the words she spoke and he would cure her rage with a look of utter misery and resignation that she would stop.
Eventually, to her embarrassment and shame, life went on and she forgot about the small, lonely child. She immersed herself in her classes and pushed another generation of small children through seven years of Transfiguration. She taught them how to turn a rat into a chalice until her mind was almost numb at the repetition.
And then, Dumbledore called her to his office. He had a letter in his hand, his eyes downcast at the small envelope that contained sloped, black writing. She recognized it instantly, it was after all, one of the letters she scribbled out last night. At the end of it, she had flicked her wand and since she had stood on the edge of Privet Drive for a decade, she didn’t even need to glance at the address scribbled on the front.
His voice was almost broken as he spoke, “Will you please look at this address.”
She sat down in concern at a chair, conjured for her pleasure. Grabbing the letter delicately, as if it was a precious flower, she frowned at the letter, “This must be wrong.”
“And if it isn’t?”
“I-I… this must be wrong.”
“Have you ever had a wrong address before?”
“N-No. I have not.”
“I know,” he rubbed a gnarled and ancient hand over his eyes, “What have I done?”
She clasped a hand to her chest, feeling her heart beat wildly, “How could you have known?”
“The signs, Minerva, the signs. They have always been there. He was always so skinny, so frail and small. I should have tried harder… I should have,” it was distressing to see Albus so flustered and worried. The cupboard under the stairs. It was all so horrific and disgusting. She should have known that the when Petunia flicked the boy off at his whimper, something had been wrong.
“Oh Albus, how can you blame yourself?”
“He was my responsibility. I was meant to protect him.”
“As well as the entire Wizarding World?”
“I should have done something.”
“Perhaps… but Harry needs you.”
And he did. Desperately.
He arrived under the wing of Hagrid, assigned by Albus to guide the little child into their world. He was irresistible to resist. She found herself filling with warmth as she saw the child. He reminder her of Lily and James. He had Lily’s stubbornness and smarts and James’s wild recklessness and charm. She found herself becoming passionate about her student’s again. Especially the Granger child. Teachers weren’t as blind as their students thought and she found the girl’s efforts to be her favourite student ridiculously endearing. She hadn’t enjoyed teaching as much as she did then since Lily and James had upturned her classroom.
However, with the wonderful moments of her career, also came the devastating moments. Harry’s reckless pursuit of adventure led them into danger, violence and notoriety. His background, lightning bolt scar and ever-growing relationship with the Headmaster increased the ever-present feelings of war.
A different side of Albus appeared. His distant, regal attitude transformed around the small boy. He was genuinely concerned about the child, especially his fate. His disappearances were confined to the holidays and she suspected that it was so that Albus could be present for any wish of Harry’s. Eventually, the child formed a family of his own. She was fond of the Weasley boy and Granger child. It could only do him well to have friends. It was understandable that Molly Weasley took to the child immediately. Something in her motherly nature must have recognised the want of the boy.
With each year and adventure that passed, Albus grew frailer. His long, silver beard became whist like and his eyes were no longer full of peace and harmony. Harry grew as well, his mind caught up to his situation and the misery that accompanied it. He rebelled against the rules of Albus and eventually, against the man himself. Every old wound was opened as each year passed. All that they thought was right and absolute was turned on their heads. Sirius was innocent and Peter was guilty. The bags beneath the old Wizard’s eyes deepened.
And then, she noticed that his disappearances began to occur with an alarming frequency. She didn’t think that they were related to Grindelwald; after all, he no longer seemed resolved when he appeared again. His seemed anxious and worried, his mind always revolving around a constant, untouchable thought. His mission weighed on his mind, whatever that was, and she found herself acting as Headmistress to a heightened degree. The Triwizard Tournament began as a simple joke, a laughing curiosity mentioned in passing by the Headmaster. Soon, it was a reality and she was acting as a host to the foreign students. By the end of that long year, another student death plagued the mind of the staff and students. Once again, Harry pushed out at those around him and she could see the constant questioning in his eyes. The sadness in Albus’s eyes was so complete and absolute that she felt a sense of vertigo at staring into them.
The Dark Lord had risen. It was too terrifying to contemplate; that a murderer, a villain, walked freely beneath the sun and the moon. That parents no longer had to lock their doors for safety from thieves but from the minions of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Albus adopted his usual calm and he silently acknowledged the Wizarding world’s need for security and a stable man of light and goodness to lean on. His words rang through her mind constantly, “I can not take the woes of the Wizarding World upon my shoulders yet again.” Her anxiety mounted. Did he initially refuse to play the leader in the coming war because he wasn’t capable? Or was it because he had seen more death, anguish and suffering then any man she had ever known? Was it that he was old and he simply felt tired?
She didn’t quite know but thankfully, he proved himself as a capable leader. If anything, she assigned this change in attitude to Harry, who showed such a self-sacrificing stance in the war that it was only right for Dumbledore to shoulder the burden. But still, when Harry was standing before her with blood and pain resounding in every movement and gesture, she had to remind herself that he was still just a boy.
“He may be just a child but he is a target!” Said Albus firmly.
“And that is why you shouldn’t expose him to such,” she hesitated, trying to find the right word, “….volatile situations.”
“Minerva, you can not honestly believe that I am the source of all this violence?” He looked old and haggard.
“Well… no. But it isn’t as if you have been particularly protective of him.”
His laugh sounded as hold as he did but hollow and desperate, “You have no idea as to what I have withheld from him for the sake of his innocence.”
“I-I just worry for the boy.” She admitted this fact with an expression of hopelessness. She sometimes forgot that her employer was over a century old, filled to the brim of his being with knowledge, power and experience.
“We all do.”
Harry soon left Hogwarts to spend another miserable holiday with his relatives. There was nothing to be done for him, only that particular house could provide him with the protection that he so desperately needed.
The ‘holidays’ were a blur and soon, the year started again. Her summer break was filled with Order of the Phoenix errands. She ventured into the depths of the Forbidden Forest, Ministry of Magic and even travelled to the continent for a particularly boring set of tasks. It was sometimes prudent to keep her within Hogwarts. She was a well known witch and very clearly aligned with the principles and ideologies of the Order. Just as the enemy would consider the absence of Dumbledore, they would also consider hers.
The presence of Umbridge hardly helped the situation. The Ministry’s prying eyes did little to ease the tension and she proudly stood in her employer, and friend’s, defence. She became aware of the taint in her classrooms. As subtly as a trail of smoke, rising from a smouldering fire, the propaganda of the Ministry began to take its effect on the students. Laughter was rare and smiles quivered upon the student’s faces. Albus noticed this faint change in the mood with a curious attitude. To her, it seemed as if he was resigned to the fate of the school.
She fought with ferocity at Hagrid’s defence. Her frustration and anger at the rise of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named came out in spells and jinxes, all aimed at those willing to harm a friend. She didn’t remember a lot of what happened after that incident, just that her chest was sore and that afternoon tea became the highlight of her week. Albus occasioned a visit or two but other then that, the monotony of the day made her beg for the excitement of Hogwarts.
Yet again, Harry lost another friend; another person. She knew that he blamed himself; he always seemed to. It was with weary eyes that he entered the next year, although there was an acceptance of his fate and a determination to prove himself and protect the people that he loved. She knew that something was rising and eventually, it would break like a wave upon the entire Order of the Phoenix. The first real blow of war would be struck that year, she didn’t need the power of foresight to inform her of that.
Before school started, Albus turned up one day, his hand crippled and mangled. It horrified her, the sight of it withered and black. She tried to conceal her shock but she couldn’t dismiss the waver in her voice. They didn’t speak of it. He held her gaze for a moment, silently communicating his silence to her. She knew that even if she did try to inquire after it, he would evade every question with a practiced ease.
The year passed in an explosion of tension and ill will. The Slytherins took their revenge against the school and eventually, against Dumbledore.
Before this revenge, she noticed a deeper change the Wizard. Her mother’s death had been a shock to her and she couldn’t help but compare it to Albus’s loss. When she had laid her flowers on the oak casket of her doe eyed mother, she had been stricken by the pain and rendered inconsolable. It had been so unfair. It was unfair that such a giving woman had been tormented by the war until her body followed the weakness of her mind. When she had visited her uncle’s grave abroad, she had been struck by the loss, by the loss, which could have so easily been avoided. Looking back on Dumbledore’s behaviour before his death, she saw his otherworldly acceptance of the situation. She was sure, just by the way he had acted and the things he had said (and in some cases, not said), that he had known of his coming death. He was wise and knowledgeable and it seemed slightly odd for death to sneak up on such an accomplished person.
For sixty or so years of her life, she had perched on the shoulder of Albus Dumbledore. He had been her teacher, her employer and her friend. His death tore her apart. Worse yet, she had no time to mourn. The school was in ruins, treachery and deceit running through every vein and stream of its complex make up. With the fall of Albus, her rise began. She was horrified at the emotions that swirled within her. She was so proud and excited at the thought of finally being Headmistress. And yet, how could she show this pride, or even acknowledge it if it came about through the death of her most treasured friend?
When Minerva came to her senses and recognized her unfortunate promotion, she ascended the steps to her new office. She did so slowly, unsure of how to proceed up such familiar steps, into an office that screamed of the old Wizard’s presence. She had a mission to complete, one that needed to be performed before any other person invaded the room. The thought of the corruption of Severus Snape sent shivers down her spine. She had once considered him her friend. She had spent decades of her life with him, sitting next to him at the staff’s table and catching his eyes at particularly amusing moments.
She moved carefully over to the pensieve. The room was still and quiet. It was in this strange stillness that the reality of the situation broke over her. She would never see Albus behind the large desk. He would never offer a Lemon Drop to her again and then smile sadly as she refused. Her eyes welled with tears but she straightened her back against the overpowering urge to crawl into a ball and cry. Regardless of how old she was, she felt naïve and lost.
The silvery liquid of the pensieve swirled around the basin. She lifted a wand and faltered. How was she to know of which memories to pull out? She didn’t know but the thought of leaving them for the snake to retrieve them made her stomach churn. She closed her eyes and started. As she began to draw the first silver stream out of the basin, her eyes caught something on the desk. It was a letter with her name hastily scribbled on the front. She flicked her eyes to her wand and with a mumble of indecision, broke off the slow rising of the memory, letting it fall back into the basin from whence it came.
Walking over to it, she looked around warily as she picked it up. Force of habit made her check the room occasionally for any unwanted visitors. Opening it carefully and with a lump in her throat, she read the familiar handwriting.
Dear Minerva,
If you are reading this letter then I must first congratulate you on your new position. Becoming a Headmaster of Hogwarts is an honour that so few achieve. If any advice can be given, it is to trust in the magic of the school and the determination of its students.
I set out this night with trepidation. As you are currently reading this letter, it seems that these fears and concerns where justified. A new corner has been turned tonight, one that would change the face of the Wizarding World for generations to come. However, only a few, including myself, Harry and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named know of this corner. In relation to the Dark Lord’s name, if his threads further entwine with the Ministry then beware its use! There are new, dangerous magic’s to be used and abused in this new world.
I have but a few requests to ask of you. Firstly, and most importantly, the Order must stand strong! Despite how bleak the sky may look, the sun will always rise at the break of day. Each member is worthy of the trust I have placed in them and each member has their own skills and abilities to use. Use these skills to penetrate every wall that was otherwise impossible to break through before. My second request is in regards to myself. I wished to wrap up my affairs before this night but unfortunately; to do so would alert the enemy. I have many possessions strewn across my office, which need attention. The first is that of my pensieve. Do not remove the memories! This request you must obey and it is imperative that you trust in my understanding of the situation. Regardless of your views of Severus Snape, you must leave all that is in my office as it should be. Those possessions, which I do not wish to be viewed, have never been so publicly accessible. My third and final request is in regard to yourself. I require your presence at Hogwarts. These children need an honest, strong and devoted teacher to guide them through the year. They need something to pour over, even if it is to forget the war for just one moment. Be that Professor that they can depend on!
With that new honour, I must also ask another favour. Within my desk, concealed within the fourth drawer of the left hand side is a letter. This letter must pass into the hands of Gellert Grindelwald. You have always been aware of this peculiar association between us. He and I have not always seen eye to eye but, as I’m sure the Daily Prophet will reveal after my death, we were once bonded in friendship. Do not judge me, Minerva, I was young and impressionable. He will be difficult to reach so if you cannot make the journey yourself (what with your new duties) then trust this letter to Kingsley, Remus or Alastor. This last request of mine is of the highest importance.
That is all that I wish to contain in this letter. I have left a web of clues for Harry to discover. If anything, stand against the enemy for his sake!
Regards,
Albus Dumbledore
Tears streamed down her face.
His words had not been sentimental or particularly revealing but they were a part of him. She pulled out a handkerchief as a peculiar wetness settled on her face. She looked over to the Pensieve and sniffled a few times.
How could he ask her to leave his memories? What person would desire their memories to be contained in the same room as their murderer? Surely, her position of Headmistress would be overthrown and Severus Snape would ascend the stairs and slide his treacherous body into the large, regal chair. Did Albus know of just how deceitful he was, of what lengths he had fallen to in order to gain a place in Death Eater history? Thanks to his actions, their greatest weapon and leader had fallen.
The letter struck her as odd. She knew that Albus was a solitary man that had never associated himself with any person romantically. His last request, a request that for any normal person would be to their wife, parents or children, was for his greatest enemy. She corrected herself on that point. Albus had said so himself, “I have long dismissed the notion of him being my enemy.” She had nearly laughed at that thought before but the letter confirmed all that she feared. How close were they really? How is that Albus wrote only two letters at the event of his death. Gellert Grindelwald. The name was so bitter and terrible in her mouth and it brought up memories of a doe eyed woman sitting at the kitchen table. How could any words between them be anything less the tense and volatile?
She sighed and prepared herself to make the journey to the Hospital Wing.
The next day, as preparations were made for Albus’s funeral, she found herself standing at the edge of Hogwarts, wand in hand. Despite the commotion going on in the school, she needed to respect the last wish of her employer and friend. A faded, yellow letter was safely concealed in her pocket. She touched her portkey and after a swirl of color and nausea, arrived as close as she could to the impenetrable fortress. As she was close enough, she Apparated to Nurmengard.
It was cold, she noticed that immediately. There was stone, and chill and the bite of something oppressive and dark in the air. Stormy seas sprayed against the rocks defiantly and the far off blob of land was the only visible landmark in her view. She looked up at its steel wrought gate and prepared herself for the worst.
It was a difficult process to reach Gellert Grindelwald’s cell. There were guards on every level of the fortress and each level contained a different access spell or key word. She was recognized immediately when she entered. They knew why she was here. After all, they had seen Albus ascend the stairs countless times before; it was only logical that upon his death, some person would go in his stead to inform the prisoner. She wondered whether he already knew.
Before she could comprehend the situation, she was outside the cell door of Grindelwald. A powerful, damp feeling oppressed her body and she felt uneasy and timid. Now that she was in front of the man, she felt slightly cowed and withered. As her eyes adjusted to the dark of the cell, she spotted the infamous mass murderer and Dark Lord.
He was emancipated and frail, the clothes of his prison hanging off his body in billowing rolls. She had the impression that fresh, clean clothes were not a regular occurrence for the man. His eyes were deep and framed by the narrow, gaunt face that surrounded them. His mouth was shut but his head was tilted slightly to the side. She could see a despairing expression on his face and suddenly, she knew that he had been told.
“Minerva McGonagall, I believe.” His voice was cracked and harsh, as if it had been unused for decades. She heard the deep rumble of something persuasive in his tone and she walked forward a few steps.
“Yes.”
“I do so like having visitors.”
She pursed her lips, “I have not come for a visit. I have a letter which I am due to deliver.”
“Ah, a letter. What a shame it is that I am not allowed to receive mail.”
Her eyebrows rose. A guard to the side of her shuffled impatiently as he spoke, “Who is the sender of this letter?”
“Albus Dumbledore,” She said with an indignant tone to her voice. The thought of failing to deliver the letter sent her spine into shivers of frustration.
She saw the guard squint his eyes, look back to anther guard and then nod as he spoke, “You may deliver the letter.”
She did not speak as she handed it to Gellert. She was suddenly aware of his physical presence as he took the letter gently from her. She had imagined him as aggressive and raving. However, he was the complete opposite. She tried to imagine the form of her deceased friend stand before these iron bars and talk calmly to such a man.
As he took the letter, a miserable expression stole over Grindelwald’s face. His confident exterior was instantly replaced by a hunched back, quivering hands and a single tear, which escaped from his intense and intelligent eyes. The sound of him inhaling filled the room and she noted that he stared at the scripted letters of Dumbledore for a moment before carefully peeling back the crested, red wax seal and opening it. The paper made a shuffling sound as it was pulled apart and opened.
She watched his face. She watched as his lips pressed together and his eyebrows drew into a frown. She watched as his breathing almost halted and his eyes darted desperately across the letter for something she couldn’t comprehend. She saw him read it a few times, lower the letter from eye level and then, using a shaking hand, touch the paper gently. Tears poured down his face as he did so, released from their dam.
Her hand flew to her mouth. Never did she imagine that Grindelwald, one of the most evil and cruel Wizard’s to have ever lived, would cry over the death of his defeater. She stood in silence before a few moments until his harsh, desperate voice broke her thoughts, “Tell me, tell me what he was like.”
“What Albus was like?”
“Yes.”
“He was…,” and just as Albus had faltered to explain Gellert, she found herself faltering to explain him. “He was amazing.”
“And?”
“He was,” she found herself smiling at the thought, “obsessed with Muggle candy.”
Grindelwald’s face looked up at hers and she knew that she was speaking of what he wanted to hear. He didn’t want to hear about how amazing and intelligent he was. He wanted to hear about the man himself, about his odd quirks and habits that defined the person they had come to love and respect. “He had a strange habit of offering Lemon Sherbet’s to every person that entered his office. I never actually ate one but he would occasionally glance at them when we were speaking, as if he was resisting the urge to snatch a small candy up. I wouldn’t have minded but he had an old fashioned view about eating when people were talking so he always refrained.”
Tears were welling in her eyes again as she continued, “One day, we were sitting in his office and I was helping him establish the curriculum for the new school year when he received an Owl. It was a letter from the Chocolate Frog manufacturers and there was a parcel tied to it. He opened the letter and parcel immediately and I have never seen such a happy smile on any mans face before. They had decided to make him into a Chocolate Frog card. He laughed so hard that he surprised Fawkes who exploded into a pile of ash as a new born.” She actually chuckled at the memory, which had nearly sent her into hysterics at the time. Fawkes had rolled off the pile of ash and onto the floor when he exploded and then had nipped at Albus’ hand for days after that as a punishment.
She glanced up from the ground, which she had been staring at as she spoke. Grindelwald was looking at her, his face appreciative and distant with a small smile on his lips. At the sight of him, she suddenly remembered his past and exactly whom she was speaking to. They fell silent again, only the shuffling of the guards behind her indicating that life still flourished in the room.
He spoke again, hesitantly and not meeting her eyes as he did so, “Did he… ever… fall in love?”
She noticed the look of caution on his face as he asked, as if he was broaching a taboo subject that had never been spoken aloud. She answered the question slowly, surprised at it and the subject. She had never thought about Albus with anyone before. The idea was strange to her, foreign, and she honestly couldn’t imagine any woman as being wild, unique and brilliant enough to stand as an equal by his side. “No. I don’t think he did.”
The mans eyes returned to earth again and he looked at the ground, his face hidden from view. She was sure that he was going to ask her another question or at least utter some rhetorical statement but he simply turned his body away from her and looked at the ground. She recognized the sign and decided to take her leave.
As she was turning to walk through the door, Grindelwald’s voice reached her ears again, “For the greater good then. For Albus and for the greater good.”
She felt a strange shiver up her spine at the words.
Years from then, when she was sitting in the Headmaster’s chair, Harry, grown and prospering in front of her, she would look back on those words again. She had never mentioned her brief meeting with Grindelwald and honestly, what with the following events; the small errand she completed seemed obsolete for many years.
However, she felt the need to broach the subject again as something foggy and distant made her question that one, profound statement of Grindelwald’s, “Harry, before you go, I must ask you something.”
Harry smiled at the way she hesitated before asking. He was an observant boy and she knew that he recognized her caution about the unknown subject she was venturing into. “Harry, you may not know this but after Albus died,” Harry’s eyes seemed to haze for a moment as she continued, “I was sent on one last errand by the man.”
“You’ve never mentioned this before…”
“To be honest, it never took priority in my mind. There has been so much to do and think of since the War that I quite forgot it.”
“Well, if I can help in any way… ?”
“You may be able to. When Albus died, he left me a letter with a series of requests in it… The first was to hold together the Order,” despite the many years that had passed, Harry’s eyes shone with emotion, “The second request was to leave his possessions as they were, the third to continue teaching at Hogwarts and… the fourth, to deliver one final letter.” She saw hope leap into Harry’s eyes and she wondered if he believed the letter to be for him. “This letter… was to Gellert Grindelwald.”
Harry gasped loudly, his face ashen, “Grindelwald? But Professor, why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”
“Like I said, Harry, it has slipped my mind since then. Regardless, I did deliver the letter, personally, to Grindelwald.”
“What happened? What did he say?”
“He wasn’t violent, quite the opposite actually. I handed him the letter and he read it a few times. He asked me a few questions about what Albus was like and I told him about his obsession with Muggle Candy,” Harry grinned, despite his panicked eyes, “And he asked me, strangely enough, about whether Albus ever fell in love.”
She noticed that Harry now turned an even paler shade and that his body suddenly moved awkwardly and uncomfortable. She continued, “However, I do not wish to talk of Albus’s love life. I wanted to ask you about a particular phrase he used, just as I was about to leave. He said, quite out of the blue: for the greater good then. For Albus and for the greater good.”
She stopped and scrutinized Harry. His mouth had suddenly dropped open in understanding and comprehension of something. Emotions flew across his face and he seemed to go from a moment of dawning to one of sadness, sympathy and then acceptance. He had always had quite an easy face to read.
“So that is why he did it…”
“Did what Harry?” She asked impatiently.
“The Deathly Hallows. Voldermort came after Grindelwald to get information about the Elder Wand out of him. I was in Malfoy’s Manor at the time and I saw it through my connection. Even though he knew that he was going to die, Grindelwald never told Voldermort about the Elder Wand. He kept his mouth shut.”
She gasped silently, “So… all this time. He kept his silence for Albus and… for the greater good?”
“I think so…. I’ve always wondered why he didn’t tell Voldermort.”
Understanding filled her mind. The contents of the letter, the way his desperate eyes had read it, the intense silent pleading of Grindelwald as he asked her to tell him something, anything, about the man he was willing to die for.
And he had.
In a moment of clarity, she saw everything as it truly was. The visits, the sadness, the last lonely letter that should have been for a wife, a parent or a child but instead, passed into the hands of his greatest foe. She saw Grindelwald’s face as it streamed with tears, his almost childish act of turning away from her and facing the wall.
Harry’s face swam before her as tears filled her old, weary eyes.
He smiled sadly and she knew that he understood.
For Albus and the greater good.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Thank you, if you are reading this last note, for actually reading this fic! I am really happy with how it turned out.
Thanks for reading and I really hope you review!
☺
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
Part Two
~
Dumbledore’s disappearances were sparser and shorter as the shadow grew. She knew, in some far off corner of her mind, that he could very well being visiting Grindelwald. That for just one day every month or year, he would ascend the steep tower to the Wizard’s cell and peer into its dark interior. Her mind persisted with the notion of him sitting in a cottage, drinking a cup of tea as he rested. It was only that small corner which reminded her that Grindelwald had not attempted escape for years now. It sometimes occurred to her that his last attempt had been to pursue Albus and that this attempt at fleeing had desisted at his running to this call. Her mind knew of the connection but she could not fathom the concept. How could such public enemies stand in the same room or, Merlin forbid, talk of politics?
A few years after the legendary Marauders and their classmates were graduated, the threat became a reality. It was then, that that Dumbledore revealed his plan and, to her horror, the involvement of Lily and James in these events. His eyes were suspicious and scattered as he told her and she wondered what else he concealed. He took her to an old house, decrepit and tattered in a sleepy, forgotten town called Godric’s Hollow. She saw that same melancholy look on his face as he walked up to the gate. She noted with a macabre fascination that the Headmaster’s hands shook as he swung the gate open slowly. It creaked at the movement.
He had already been to the small cottage; that was apparent. His face was carefully composed as he looked around the small sitting room and spoke to her softly, “This cottage will protect them.”
“You do not believe that they’ll simply lock themselves away from the world?”
“What choice,” he said with an exasperated sigh, “do they have?”
“To stand up to the enemy! To fight!”
A laugh that she had never heard before escaped from the Headmaster’s mouth. The laugh was condescending, patronizing and a little bit insulting. It sounded like something that he had tried to conceal for years, “War is never that simple, Minerva.”
“War?”
“Oh, yes. War will descend upon us as it did decades ago. Another generation, lost to hatred and violence.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I have many eyes and ears alert to the whisperings of the underground. Their whispers are a warning of what is to come.”
“… And this war surrounds Lily and James?”
“It surrounds their fate. Hopefully, it will not be too severe.”
“How much do you know of this fate?” She said this cautiously.
“Enough to be concerned but not enough to act upon that concern.”
“I see.”
He regarded her in the dark of the cottage. He had cast a simple Lumos charm upon entering the small room and as she joined him, their wand tips created a wall of shadows around them. Until the room was furnished and glowing with the warm licks of fire, she would continue to feel an ominous presence creep upon her.
He spoke slowly, as if his words had a particular importance to them. “Minerva, I may have achieved great things in my life but I am, and always shall be, but a human. I can not take the woes of the Wizarding World upon my shoulders yet again.”
She nodded, her lips pursed tightly together as she saw a new, vulnerable side of her employer. She wandered whether his parents had been proud of him.
They returned to the school that night and met with a very pregnant Lily and an extremely stressed James. They advised them as to how they would make the move and what, most importantly, a Secret Keeper was. She would never forget the look that Lily gave James as she spoke those words or the sight of her hand as it rubbed her belly affectionately.
When Harry Potter was born, Dumbledore visited him for the first time with Minerva. He was born in Godric’s Hollow, his small presence having to be concealed from even the eyes of the nurses. He was a quiet bundle; his eyes were large and still blue. Lily’s hair was plastered to her face, the obvious streaks of tears lining her pale face. James was grinning happily, his eyes gazing in wonder at the small, quiet bundle in his arms. Dumbledore’s eyes glittered as he saw the small boy, his eyes watching him with a kind of wonder that Minerva had never seen before. Sirius was sitting beside the new parents silently, for the first time in perfect stillness.
That year, she was assigned by the Headmaster to Privet Drive. She took the form of an inconspicuous tabby cat. It was her tedious and rather boring job to watch a certain muggle family. She hadn’t been informed of why she was watching the relations of Lily but once again, the tension of the situation informed her of something serious. They were odd and rather appalling, despite their want of propriety.
The year was filled with watching, waiting and listening.
A year from that birth, on a night when children flew around the streets in their costumes and make up, on a night when bats were celebrated and her people exposed their oddities with a childish glee, Lily and James died.
That night, a silver Phoenix flew into her office and pronounced in a solemn, familiar voice, “He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has fallen.” Her excitement was only contained by the terrifying rumours, which spread like wild fire at the news.
The Headmaster’s decision to room Harry with his relatives was not a unanimous decision. However, she was once again clueless to the rationale behind such a choice. She would visit the house every few months and watch the small, black haired child wander behind his relatives with solemn, green eyes. He would tug at the dress of his aunt and mutter a small whimper of pain. She would return to Dumbledore in a fit of rage and reproach. His eyes would shine mournfully at the words she spoke and he would cure her rage with a look of utter misery and resignation that she would stop.
Eventually, to her embarrassment and shame, life went on and she forgot about the small, lonely child. She immersed herself in her classes and pushed another generation of small children through seven years of Transfiguration. She taught them how to turn a rat into a chalice until her mind was almost numb at the repetition.
And then, Dumbledore called her to his office. He had a letter in his hand, his eyes downcast at the small envelope that contained sloped, black writing. She recognized it instantly, it was after all, one of the letters she scribbled out last night. At the end of it, she had flicked her wand and since she had stood on the edge of Privet Drive for a decade, she didn’t even need to glance at the address scribbled on the front.
His voice was almost broken as he spoke, “Will you please look at this address.”
She sat down in concern at a chair, conjured for her pleasure. Grabbing the letter delicately, as if it was a precious flower, she frowned at the letter, “This must be wrong.”
“And if it isn’t?”
“I-I… this must be wrong.”
“Have you ever had a wrong address before?”
“N-No. I have not.”
“I know,” he rubbed a gnarled and ancient hand over his eyes, “What have I done?”
She clasped a hand to her chest, feeling her heart beat wildly, “How could you have known?”
“The signs, Minerva, the signs. They have always been there. He was always so skinny, so frail and small. I should have tried harder… I should have,” it was distressing to see Albus so flustered and worried. The cupboard under the stairs. It was all so horrific and disgusting. She should have known that the when Petunia flicked the boy off at his whimper, something had been wrong.
“Oh Albus, how can you blame yourself?”
“He was my responsibility. I was meant to protect him.”
“As well as the entire Wizarding World?”
“I should have done something.”
“Perhaps… but Harry needs you.”
And he did. Desperately.
He arrived under the wing of Hagrid, assigned by Albus to guide the little child into their world. He was irresistible to resist. She found herself filling with warmth as she saw the child. He reminder her of Lily and James. He had Lily’s stubbornness and smarts and James’s wild recklessness and charm. She found herself becoming passionate about her student’s again. Especially the Granger child. Teachers weren’t as blind as their students thought and she found the girl’s efforts to be her favourite student ridiculously endearing. She hadn’t enjoyed teaching as much as she did then since Lily and James had upturned her classroom.
However, with the wonderful moments of her career, also came the devastating moments. Harry’s reckless pursuit of adventure led them into danger, violence and notoriety. His background, lightning bolt scar and ever-growing relationship with the Headmaster increased the ever-present feelings of war.
A different side of Albus appeared. His distant, regal attitude transformed around the small boy. He was genuinely concerned about the child, especially his fate. His disappearances were confined to the holidays and she suspected that it was so that Albus could be present for any wish of Harry’s. Eventually, the child formed a family of his own. She was fond of the Weasley boy and Granger child. It could only do him well to have friends. It was understandable that Molly Weasley took to the child immediately. Something in her motherly nature must have recognised the want of the boy.
With each year and adventure that passed, Albus grew frailer. His long, silver beard became whist like and his eyes were no longer full of peace and harmony. Harry grew as well, his mind caught up to his situation and the misery that accompanied it. He rebelled against the rules of Albus and eventually, against the man himself. Every old wound was opened as each year passed. All that they thought was right and absolute was turned on their heads. Sirius was innocent and Peter was guilty. The bags beneath the old Wizard’s eyes deepened.
And then, she noticed that his disappearances began to occur with an alarming frequency. She didn’t think that they were related to Grindelwald; after all, he no longer seemed resolved when he appeared again. His seemed anxious and worried, his mind always revolving around a constant, untouchable thought. His mission weighed on his mind, whatever that was, and she found herself acting as Headmistress to a heightened degree. The Triwizard Tournament began as a simple joke, a laughing curiosity mentioned in passing by the Headmaster. Soon, it was a reality and she was acting as a host to the foreign students. By the end of that long year, another student death plagued the mind of the staff and students. Once again, Harry pushed out at those around him and she could see the constant questioning in his eyes. The sadness in Albus’s eyes was so complete and absolute that she felt a sense of vertigo at staring into them.
The Dark Lord had risen. It was too terrifying to contemplate; that a murderer, a villain, walked freely beneath the sun and the moon. That parents no longer had to lock their doors for safety from thieves but from the minions of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Albus adopted his usual calm and he silently acknowledged the Wizarding world’s need for security and a stable man of light and goodness to lean on. His words rang through her mind constantly, “I can not take the woes of the Wizarding World upon my shoulders yet again.” Her anxiety mounted. Did he initially refuse to play the leader in the coming war because he wasn’t capable? Or was it because he had seen more death, anguish and suffering then any man she had ever known? Was it that he was old and he simply felt tired?
She didn’t quite know but thankfully, he proved himself as a capable leader. If anything, she assigned this change in attitude to Harry, who showed such a self-sacrificing stance in the war that it was only right for Dumbledore to shoulder the burden. But still, when Harry was standing before her with blood and pain resounding in every movement and gesture, she had to remind herself that he was still just a boy.
“He may be just a child but he is a target!” Said Albus firmly.
“And that is why you shouldn’t expose him to such,” she hesitated, trying to find the right word, “….volatile situations.”
“Minerva, you can not honestly believe that I am the source of all this violence?” He looked old and haggard.
“Well… no. But it isn’t as if you have been particularly protective of him.”
His laugh sounded as hold as he did but hollow and desperate, “You have no idea as to what I have withheld from him for the sake of his innocence.”
“I-I just worry for the boy.” She admitted this fact with an expression of hopelessness. She sometimes forgot that her employer was over a century old, filled to the brim of his being with knowledge, power and experience.
“We all do.”
Harry soon left Hogwarts to spend another miserable holiday with his relatives. There was nothing to be done for him, only that particular house could provide him with the protection that he so desperately needed.
The ‘holidays’ were a blur and soon, the year started again. Her summer break was filled with Order of the Phoenix errands. She ventured into the depths of the Forbidden Forest, Ministry of Magic and even travelled to the continent for a particularly boring set of tasks. It was sometimes prudent to keep her within Hogwarts. She was a well known witch and very clearly aligned with the principles and ideologies of the Order. Just as the enemy would consider the absence of Dumbledore, they would also consider hers.
The presence of Umbridge hardly helped the situation. The Ministry’s prying eyes did little to ease the tension and she proudly stood in her employer, and friend’s, defence. She became aware of the taint in her classrooms. As subtly as a trail of smoke, rising from a smouldering fire, the propaganda of the Ministry began to take its effect on the students. Laughter was rare and smiles quivered upon the student’s faces. Albus noticed this faint change in the mood with a curious attitude. To her, it seemed as if he was resigned to the fate of the school.
She fought with ferocity at Hagrid’s defence. Her frustration and anger at the rise of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named came out in spells and jinxes, all aimed at those willing to harm a friend. She didn’t remember a lot of what happened after that incident, just that her chest was sore and that afternoon tea became the highlight of her week. Albus occasioned a visit or two but other then that, the monotony of the day made her beg for the excitement of Hogwarts.
Yet again, Harry lost another friend; another person. She knew that he blamed himself; he always seemed to. It was with weary eyes that he entered the next year, although there was an acceptance of his fate and a determination to prove himself and protect the people that he loved. She knew that something was rising and eventually, it would break like a wave upon the entire Order of the Phoenix. The first real blow of war would be struck that year, she didn’t need the power of foresight to inform her of that.
Before school started, Albus turned up one day, his hand crippled and mangled. It horrified her, the sight of it withered and black. She tried to conceal her shock but she couldn’t dismiss the waver in her voice. They didn’t speak of it. He held her gaze for a moment, silently communicating his silence to her. She knew that even if she did try to inquire after it, he would evade every question with a practiced ease.
The year passed in an explosion of tension and ill will. The Slytherins took their revenge against the school and eventually, against Dumbledore.
Before this revenge, she noticed a deeper change the Wizard. Her mother’s death had been a shock to her and she couldn’t help but compare it to Albus’s loss. When she had laid her flowers on the oak casket of her doe eyed mother, she had been stricken by the pain and rendered inconsolable. It had been so unfair. It was unfair that such a giving woman had been tormented by the war until her body followed the weakness of her mind. When she had visited her uncle’s grave abroad, she had been struck by the loss, by the loss, which could have so easily been avoided. Looking back on Dumbledore’s behaviour before his death, she saw his otherworldly acceptance of the situation. She was sure, just by the way he had acted and the things he had said (and in some cases, not said), that he had known of his coming death. He was wise and knowledgeable and it seemed slightly odd for death to sneak up on such an accomplished person.
For sixty or so years of her life, she had perched on the shoulder of Albus Dumbledore. He had been her teacher, her employer and her friend. His death tore her apart. Worse yet, she had no time to mourn. The school was in ruins, treachery and deceit running through every vein and stream of its complex make up. With the fall of Albus, her rise began. She was horrified at the emotions that swirled within her. She was so proud and excited at the thought of finally being Headmistress. And yet, how could she show this pride, or even acknowledge it if it came about through the death of her most treasured friend?
When Minerva came to her senses and recognized her unfortunate promotion, she ascended the steps to her new office. She did so slowly, unsure of how to proceed up such familiar steps, into an office that screamed of the old Wizard’s presence. She had a mission to complete, one that needed to be performed before any other person invaded the room. The thought of the corruption of Severus Snape sent shivers down her spine. She had once considered him her friend. She had spent decades of her life with him, sitting next to him at the staff’s table and catching his eyes at particularly amusing moments.
She moved carefully over to the pensieve. The room was still and quiet. It was in this strange stillness that the reality of the situation broke over her. She would never see Albus behind the large desk. He would never offer a Lemon Drop to her again and then smile sadly as she refused. Her eyes welled with tears but she straightened her back against the overpowering urge to crawl into a ball and cry. Regardless of how old she was, she felt naïve and lost.
The silvery liquid of the pensieve swirled around the basin. She lifted a wand and faltered. How was she to know of which memories to pull out? She didn’t know but the thought of leaving them for the snake to retrieve them made her stomach churn. She closed her eyes and started. As she began to draw the first silver stream out of the basin, her eyes caught something on the desk. It was a letter with her name hastily scribbled on the front. She flicked her eyes to her wand and with a mumble of indecision, broke off the slow rising of the memory, letting it fall back into the basin from whence it came.
Walking over to it, she looked around warily as she picked it up. Force of habit made her check the room occasionally for any unwanted visitors. Opening it carefully and with a lump in her throat, she read the familiar handwriting.
Dear Minerva,
If you are reading this letter then I must first congratulate you on your new position. Becoming a Headmaster of Hogwarts is an honour that so few achieve. If any advice can be given, it is to trust in the magic of the school and the determination of its students.
I set out this night with trepidation. As you are currently reading this letter, it seems that these fears and concerns where justified. A new corner has been turned tonight, one that would change the face of the Wizarding World for generations to come. However, only a few, including myself, Harry and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named know of this corner. In relation to the Dark Lord’s name, if his threads further entwine with the Ministry then beware its use! There are new, dangerous magic’s to be used and abused in this new world.
I have but a few requests to ask of you. Firstly, and most importantly, the Order must stand strong! Despite how bleak the sky may look, the sun will always rise at the break of day. Each member is worthy of the trust I have placed in them and each member has their own skills and abilities to use. Use these skills to penetrate every wall that was otherwise impossible to break through before. My second request is in regards to myself. I wished to wrap up my affairs before this night but unfortunately; to do so would alert the enemy. I have many possessions strewn across my office, which need attention. The first is that of my pensieve. Do not remove the memories! This request you must obey and it is imperative that you trust in my understanding of the situation. Regardless of your views of Severus Snape, you must leave all that is in my office as it should be. Those possessions, which I do not wish to be viewed, have never been so publicly accessible. My third and final request is in regard to yourself. I require your presence at Hogwarts. These children need an honest, strong and devoted teacher to guide them through the year. They need something to pour over, even if it is to forget the war for just one moment. Be that Professor that they can depend on!
With that new honour, I must also ask another favour. Within my desk, concealed within the fourth drawer of the left hand side is a letter. This letter must pass into the hands of Gellert Grindelwald. You have always been aware of this peculiar association between us. He and I have not always seen eye to eye but, as I’m sure the Daily Prophet will reveal after my death, we were once bonded in friendship. Do not judge me, Minerva, I was young and impressionable. He will be difficult to reach so if you cannot make the journey yourself (what with your new duties) then trust this letter to Kingsley, Remus or Alastor. This last request of mine is of the highest importance.
That is all that I wish to contain in this letter. I have left a web of clues for Harry to discover. If anything, stand against the enemy for his sake!
Regards,
Albus Dumbledore
Tears streamed down her face.
His words had not been sentimental or particularly revealing but they were a part of him. She pulled out a handkerchief as a peculiar wetness settled on her face. She looked over to the Pensieve and sniffled a few times.
How could he ask her to leave his memories? What person would desire their memories to be contained in the same room as their murderer? Surely, her position of Headmistress would be overthrown and Severus Snape would ascend the stairs and slide his treacherous body into the large, regal chair. Did Albus know of just how deceitful he was, of what lengths he had fallen to in order to gain a place in Death Eater history? Thanks to his actions, their greatest weapon and leader had fallen.
The letter struck her as odd. She knew that Albus was a solitary man that had never associated himself with any person romantically. His last request, a request that for any normal person would be to their wife, parents or children, was for his greatest enemy. She corrected herself on that point. Albus had said so himself, “I have long dismissed the notion of him being my enemy.” She had nearly laughed at that thought before but the letter confirmed all that she feared. How close were they really? How is that Albus wrote only two letters at the event of his death. Gellert Grindelwald. The name was so bitter and terrible in her mouth and it brought up memories of a doe eyed woman sitting at the kitchen table. How could any words between them be anything less the tense and volatile?
She sighed and prepared herself to make the journey to the Hospital Wing.
The next day, as preparations were made for Albus’s funeral, she found herself standing at the edge of Hogwarts, wand in hand. Despite the commotion going on in the school, she needed to respect the last wish of her employer and friend. A faded, yellow letter was safely concealed in her pocket. She touched her portkey and after a swirl of color and nausea, arrived as close as she could to the impenetrable fortress. As she was close enough, she Apparated to Nurmengard.
It was cold, she noticed that immediately. There was stone, and chill and the bite of something oppressive and dark in the air. Stormy seas sprayed against the rocks defiantly and the far off blob of land was the only visible landmark in her view. She looked up at its steel wrought gate and prepared herself for the worst.
It was a difficult process to reach Gellert Grindelwald’s cell. There were guards on every level of the fortress and each level contained a different access spell or key word. She was recognized immediately when she entered. They knew why she was here. After all, they had seen Albus ascend the stairs countless times before; it was only logical that upon his death, some person would go in his stead to inform the prisoner. She wondered whether he already knew.
Before she could comprehend the situation, she was outside the cell door of Grindelwald. A powerful, damp feeling oppressed her body and she felt uneasy and timid. Now that she was in front of the man, she felt slightly cowed and withered. As her eyes adjusted to the dark of the cell, she spotted the infamous mass murderer and Dark Lord.
He was emancipated and frail, the clothes of his prison hanging off his body in billowing rolls. She had the impression that fresh, clean clothes were not a regular occurrence for the man. His eyes were deep and framed by the narrow, gaunt face that surrounded them. His mouth was shut but his head was tilted slightly to the side. She could see a despairing expression on his face and suddenly, she knew that he had been told.
“Minerva McGonagall, I believe.” His voice was cracked and harsh, as if it had been unused for decades. She heard the deep rumble of something persuasive in his tone and she walked forward a few steps.
“Yes.”
“I do so like having visitors.”
She pursed her lips, “I have not come for a visit. I have a letter which I am due to deliver.”
“Ah, a letter. What a shame it is that I am not allowed to receive mail.”
Her eyebrows rose. A guard to the side of her shuffled impatiently as he spoke, “Who is the sender of this letter?”
“Albus Dumbledore,” She said with an indignant tone to her voice. The thought of failing to deliver the letter sent her spine into shivers of frustration.
She saw the guard squint his eyes, look back to anther guard and then nod as he spoke, “You may deliver the letter.”
She did not speak as she handed it to Gellert. She was suddenly aware of his physical presence as he took the letter gently from her. She had imagined him as aggressive and raving. However, he was the complete opposite. She tried to imagine the form of her deceased friend stand before these iron bars and talk calmly to such a man.
As he took the letter, a miserable expression stole over Grindelwald’s face. His confident exterior was instantly replaced by a hunched back, quivering hands and a single tear, which escaped from his intense and intelligent eyes. The sound of him inhaling filled the room and she noted that he stared at the scripted letters of Dumbledore for a moment before carefully peeling back the crested, red wax seal and opening it. The paper made a shuffling sound as it was pulled apart and opened.
She watched his face. She watched as his lips pressed together and his eyebrows drew into a frown. She watched as his breathing almost halted and his eyes darted desperately across the letter for something she couldn’t comprehend. She saw him read it a few times, lower the letter from eye level and then, using a shaking hand, touch the paper gently. Tears poured down his face as he did so, released from their dam.
Her hand flew to her mouth. Never did she imagine that Grindelwald, one of the most evil and cruel Wizard’s to have ever lived, would cry over the death of his defeater. She stood in silence before a few moments until his harsh, desperate voice broke her thoughts, “Tell me, tell me what he was like.”
“What Albus was like?”
“Yes.”
“He was…,” and just as Albus had faltered to explain Gellert, she found herself faltering to explain him. “He was amazing.”
“And?”
“He was,” she found herself smiling at the thought, “obsessed with Muggle candy.”
Grindelwald’s face looked up at hers and she knew that she was speaking of what he wanted to hear. He didn’t want to hear about how amazing and intelligent he was. He wanted to hear about the man himself, about his odd quirks and habits that defined the person they had come to love and respect. “He had a strange habit of offering Lemon Sherbet’s to every person that entered his office. I never actually ate one but he would occasionally glance at them when we were speaking, as if he was resisting the urge to snatch a small candy up. I wouldn’t have minded but he had an old fashioned view about eating when people were talking so he always refrained.”
Tears were welling in her eyes again as she continued, “One day, we were sitting in his office and I was helping him establish the curriculum for the new school year when he received an Owl. It was a letter from the Chocolate Frog manufacturers and there was a parcel tied to it. He opened the letter and parcel immediately and I have never seen such a happy smile on any mans face before. They had decided to make him into a Chocolate Frog card. He laughed so hard that he surprised Fawkes who exploded into a pile of ash as a new born.” She actually chuckled at the memory, which had nearly sent her into hysterics at the time. Fawkes had rolled off the pile of ash and onto the floor when he exploded and then had nipped at Albus’ hand for days after that as a punishment.
She glanced up from the ground, which she had been staring at as she spoke. Grindelwald was looking at her, his face appreciative and distant with a small smile on his lips. At the sight of him, she suddenly remembered his past and exactly whom she was speaking to. They fell silent again, only the shuffling of the guards behind her indicating that life still flourished in the room.
He spoke again, hesitantly and not meeting her eyes as he did so, “Did he… ever… fall in love?”
She noticed the look of caution on his face as he asked, as if he was broaching a taboo subject that had never been spoken aloud. She answered the question slowly, surprised at it and the subject. She had never thought about Albus with anyone before. The idea was strange to her, foreign, and she honestly couldn’t imagine any woman as being wild, unique and brilliant enough to stand as an equal by his side. “No. I don’t think he did.”
The mans eyes returned to earth again and he looked at the ground, his face hidden from view. She was sure that he was going to ask her another question or at least utter some rhetorical statement but he simply turned his body away from her and looked at the ground. She recognized the sign and decided to take her leave.
As she was turning to walk through the door, Grindelwald’s voice reached her ears again, “For the greater good then. For Albus and for the greater good.”
She felt a strange shiver up her spine at the words.
Years from then, when she was sitting in the Headmaster’s chair, Harry, grown and prospering in front of her, she would look back on those words again. She had never mentioned her brief meeting with Grindelwald and honestly, what with the following events; the small errand she completed seemed obsolete for many years.
However, she felt the need to broach the subject again as something foggy and distant made her question that one, profound statement of Grindelwald’s, “Harry, before you go, I must ask you something.”
Harry smiled at the way she hesitated before asking. He was an observant boy and she knew that he recognized her caution about the unknown subject she was venturing into. “Harry, you may not know this but after Albus died,” Harry’s eyes seemed to haze for a moment as she continued, “I was sent on one last errand by the man.”
“You’ve never mentioned this before…”
“To be honest, it never took priority in my mind. There has been so much to do and think of since the War that I quite forgot it.”
“Well, if I can help in any way… ?”
“You may be able to. When Albus died, he left me a letter with a series of requests in it… The first was to hold together the Order,” despite the many years that had passed, Harry’s eyes shone with emotion, “The second request was to leave his possessions as they were, the third to continue teaching at Hogwarts and… the fourth, to deliver one final letter.” She saw hope leap into Harry’s eyes and she wondered if he believed the letter to be for him. “This letter… was to Gellert Grindelwald.”
Harry gasped loudly, his face ashen, “Grindelwald? But Professor, why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”
“Like I said, Harry, it has slipped my mind since then. Regardless, I did deliver the letter, personally, to Grindelwald.”
“What happened? What did he say?”
“He wasn’t violent, quite the opposite actually. I handed him the letter and he read it a few times. He asked me a few questions about what Albus was like and I told him about his obsession with Muggle Candy,” Harry grinned, despite his panicked eyes, “And he asked me, strangely enough, about whether Albus ever fell in love.”
She noticed that Harry now turned an even paler shade and that his body suddenly moved awkwardly and uncomfortable. She continued, “However, I do not wish to talk of Albus’s love life. I wanted to ask you about a particular phrase he used, just as I was about to leave. He said, quite out of the blue: for the greater good then. For Albus and for the greater good.”
She stopped and scrutinized Harry. His mouth had suddenly dropped open in understanding and comprehension of something. Emotions flew across his face and he seemed to go from a moment of dawning to one of sadness, sympathy and then acceptance. He had always had quite an easy face to read.
“So that is why he did it…”
“Did what Harry?” She asked impatiently.
“The Deathly Hallows. Voldermort came after Grindelwald to get information about the Elder Wand out of him. I was in Malfoy’s Manor at the time and I saw it through my connection. Even though he knew that he was going to die, Grindelwald never told Voldermort about the Elder Wand. He kept his mouth shut.”
She gasped silently, “So… all this time. He kept his silence for Albus and… for the greater good?”
“I think so…. I’ve always wondered why he didn’t tell Voldermort.”
Understanding filled her mind. The contents of the letter, the way his desperate eyes had read it, the intense silent pleading of Grindelwald as he asked her to tell him something, anything, about the man he was willing to die for.
And he had.
In a moment of clarity, she saw everything as it truly was. The visits, the sadness, the last lonely letter that should have been for a wife, a parent or a child but instead, passed into the hands of his greatest foe. She saw Grindelwald’s face as it streamed with tears, his almost childish act of turning away from her and facing the wall.
Harry’s face swam before her as tears filled her old, weary eyes.
He smiled sadly and she knew that he understood.
For Albus and the greater good.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Thank you, if you are reading this last note, for actually reading this fic! I am really happy with how it turned out.
Thanks for reading and I really hope you review!
☺