Credits: Cover art by Umaken
Vigilance!
"Albus, you can't really mean this!" cried the bespectacled woman in dismay.
"I'm afraid I am quite serious, Minerva. It is in the best interests of my students and of Wizarding Britain."
"You must be joking."
"I am not."
"Your being Headmaster was the only reason that You-Know-Who didn't win this war!"
"If only that were true."
"It is true!"
"Alas, you are too kind to me, Minerva."
"You know he feared you. Feared you because you were good, because you could beat him. And you did!"
"No; the credit for that goes to young Mr. Potter. It has become clear to me after last night that this miracle is just that- a miracle."
"No, Albus. You saved us! You kept the Order alive, all those years-"
"If young Harry had not prevailed, the future is clear to me- we would have perished under Lord Voldemort's reign. Maybe in one year- maybe in two. But we would have fallen."
"Through no fault of yours! You were the reason we lasted so long."
"I was the reason that Tom Riddle became Voldemort in the first place. I allowed him to go forth from Hogwarts unchallenged, after his interview for the Defense position. No, even worse- I did not strive hard enough to turn him from this path when he was my student, or even before then."
She opened her mouth to speak, but Dumbledore silenced her with a look.
"I will not hear your defenses, Minerva, well-intentioned though I do not doubt they are. I am taking responsibility for my actions and fixing my mistakes. The future will not end the same way as this war against Voldemort."
"But… I could not possibly lead better as Headmistress than you did. I'll only make more mistakes, without you to guide us. This isn't fixing your problems. It's running away from them."
"No, Minerva, you are correct. However, I do not wish you to lead Hogwarts just yet. It is true that, your remarkable talent in Transfiguration notwithstanding, you are neither a strategist nor a trainer of soldiers. And, I fear, we will need both of these in my successor if we are to win the next war."
"Next war?!"
"I fear so."
"But he's gone, we've only just won-"
"You are not so inexperienced, my friend," he said, a hint of admonishment in his gaze.
Minerva swallowed. "You think- will he- is he- can he come back, then?"
"I do not know. I have some doubts... but no, it is irrelevant. You see, I am in truth rather old." He nodded, taking her surprise for granted. "I have seen three such wars come and go, and many others besides in countries besides Magical Britain. Dark wizards do not rest peacefully, and nor does the wizarding world. Perhaps in ten years, perhaps in twenty, we will see another dark wizard rise in this country. This war is an ancient one, my dear."
She stood mute, having just remembered how old Dumbledore was.
"So," he continued. "I hope you will forgive me if I postpone your promotion. Your time will come- but not yet, I think."
Minerva paused, feeling guiltily relieved. "But then, you intend to appoint a successor yourself? Can you do that?"
"I do not see why not. Certainly our dear Minister Fudge will not see fit to intervene at such a time as this."
"And the noble families?"
"I am the Chief Warlock, and the Head of the Wizengamot, my dear."
"But- you're Albus Dumbledore! You can't simply… replace yourself!"
The old man regarded her sadly. "I have fought in two wars. I will admit that the prospect of a third war is painful. May I never rest? Must I always continue fighting?"
She had no answer for him, of course.
"But no- that is the coward's way out. If the third war comes in my time, I will fight in it. However, I will not be leading you to battle. I have had enough of watching my students die."
"But… who?"
"I think another Order member will do best. Someone with experience in the last war. Someone who I know will always keep to the side of light, no matter what it costs him. Someone who will not be too soft on the students, who will ensure they are properly prepared. I think, perhaps…"
"Severus." It was all she could do not to wince.
The old man looked at her in surprise. "What?"
"Albus, well- I'm sorry, but I really must ask. Are you sure he's quite stable enough?"
The man regarded her thoughtfully. Then he laughed. "Why, Severus would fit those same criteria, would he not? But no."
"Not Severus?" She relaxed a little, then frowned. "Then who...?"
"Well, Alastor, of course."
"…And so, old friend, I would be honored if you would take the post of Headmaster from me."
Moody stared at the old man. He'd checked for Polyjuice and Glamours, and he knew Dumbledore could throw off the Imperius, and the man was a perfect Occlumens- supposedly. He'd checked for magical signatures, and that was Dumbledore's all right- the man's magic filled the whole room. And that was Dumbledore's wand. Still, it was possible that Moody himself had been Memory Charmed, just to think that he'd checked all of that. Or Confunded. And he didn't think he'd been slipped any drugs- his flask was under an anti-teleportation charm, and there was a hex on it that would do some pretty nasty damage to anyone stupid enough to try and touch it who wasn't Moody.
"Not a chance," he replied flatly.
"I thought you might say as much."
Silence.
Dumbledore twinkled serenely.
Moody glared un-serenely.
"I suppose," sighed Dumbledore, "That I shall have to ask Severus to take the post instead."
"That former Death Eater? You've got to be out of your mind to trust him."
"I have faith in Severus."
"Why the hell do you want to go and retire anyway? You know as well as I that Dark wizards don't forgive and forget."
"In this time of joy and relief, the political upheaval would be minimally damaging to everyday citizens."
Moody snorted in disgust. "Gah, damned idiots. Don't they know that now's the time when the Death Eaters left over will have nothing to lose? And they're treating it like it's Merlin-damned Christmas. If there's not a dozen Dark Wizards out there planning something right this minute, I'll eat my leg."
"As Headmaster, you would have the opportunity to guide children onto a more productive path for the future."
"I'm an Auror."
"You've just been discharged. Honorably, of course."
"What? Says who?"
"Amelia told me."
"Damn that woman," snarled Moody. "They need all the Aurors they can get- half the force wiped out in six months. And they go 'discharging' all the ones who were smart enough to survive it. What the hell do they think they're doing?"
"I'm told the Government is directing its energy to reconstructing and reassuring the citizens."
Moody grunted. "Fortifications."
"In any case, I'll leave you to think it over."
He vanished soundlessly, somehow, despite the anti-apparition jinxes around the whole place and the ninth-level wards that covered the entire area in a kilometer radius from Moody's current place of temporary residence in a very secret area outside of Britain. And when Moody checked the wards later, he noticed that they had never recorded the man coming in, either, and had been unable to place his magical signature.
Sometimes Moody really hated that man.
Then...
Moody bared his teeth in a grin.
Fine.
But I do it my way.
M.
Smiling broadly, Albus Dumbledore incendio'd the scrap of parchment. As the ash floated neatly into the waste bin, he began to hum as well. Then he picked up a quill and began to write his own letter in his favorite magenta ink.
I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, the 342nd Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, do hereby resign from my post of my own volition. I do also appoint as my successor Alastor Moody, and request that he be recognized as the Headmaster of Hogwarts until such time as he passes on the post to his successor, or by some other cause is rendered unable to carry out his duties...
