Summary: What if Albus and Minerva had gone to school together? Totally AU.
Author's Note: This has been on my computer for a while. I actually wrote it before the seventh book came out so it's not in accordance with what Rowling revealed about Dumbledore's past. But since this is AU anyway, I decided that doesn't matter and to brush the story up a bit and finally publish it.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all its characters belong to J.K. Rowling who is a genius – as we all know ;)
Your Heart is my Home
She hated her big sister.
At least right now, eleven-year-old Minerva McGonagall thought she did. She was standing in a huge entrance hall, facing a set of doors which would probably lead her into an even bigger hall. But Minerva didn't really know for sure what was behind those doors – because her stupid sister had refused to tell her.
Well, at least she wasn't alone. She was surrounded by all the other nervous first-years of Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Minerva's sister was about to start her fourth year in Hogwarts, but she had refused to tell her how exactly they would be sorted into the four houses. Minerva's future classmates looked anxious, too, but she was still angry with her sister. What was the good in having a big sister, anyway?
There were, however, a few students who seemed perfectly at ease. One of them, a rather short and plump boy, approached Minerva and offered his hand. "Horace Slughorn. Pleasure to meet you."
Minerva was both surprised and irritated by his behaviour, but she shook his hand. "And your name is?" the boy prompted her.
By now, Minerva was pretty sure that she didn't like him. She thought his behaviour to be very odd. But she usually wasn't rude to others so she told him her name and then he quickly lost interest in her and went on to the next student.
Now the witch, who had introduced herself as Professor Merrythought and Deputy Headmistress, returned. "We are ready for you now," she announced and immediately, all the first-years stood very still and quiet. The big doors in front of them opened and Minerva took a deep breath.
"There is no need to worry," somebody suddenly said next to her.
Minerva wasn't entirely sure whether he had been talking to her or somebody else, but she hissed, "I'm not worried!" And without even looking at the boy, she entered the Great Hall.
She had heard her sister talk about it numerous times, but now that she could she the enchanted ceiling for herself, she was still impressed. But when Professor Merrythought told them what they were supposed to do – put on the Sorting Hat – Minerva wasn't only angry with her sister but also with herself. She should have known that they wouldn't ask the students to do anything dangerous. Nevertheless, Minerva felt her heartbeat accelerating and her hands shaking when Professor Merrythought began to read out the list of names and the sorting began.
It actually was quite exciting. But Minerva wasn't too interested in the faces of the other first-years. She preferred to look around and admire the Great Hall. Only an awfully long name caught her attention. It had at least four forenames, so Minerva only remembered the surname 'Dumbledore'. She thought that this might be the boy who had spoken to her before entering the hall, but since she hadn't looked closer, she wasn't sure.
But the Sorting Hat knew exactly what to do with the boy because as soon as it touched the boy's auburn hair, it cried 'Gryffindor'. Minerva watched how the boy made his way towards his new house table, feeling a little envious, because she wanted to get there, too. Her parents had been in Gryffindor and in Minerva's opinion, all the greatest witches and wizards had been in Gryffindor, too.
Finally, her name was next and Minerva tried not to show how nervous she really was when she sat down on the chair. She put on the hat and there was only one thing she could think of: Gryffindor.
"Ah, I see, you have already made your decision without me?" A high pitched voice was suddenly in her head and Minerva winced slightly. "But you do have a very strong will and seem to know what's best for you. Alright then – Gryffindor!"
Relieved Minerva sat down at her new house table. When the sorting had ended and Professor Dippet had all welcomed them, she already felt at home.
Minerva stared at her match. It couldn't be too difficult to turn it into a needle. When Professor Caledonian had shown them how to do it, it certainly had looked very easy. The effortlessness with which the Professor had turned wood into metal fascinated Minerva immensely. She couldn't explain why, but she had taken an instant liking to Transfiguration – and it was only her first lesson.
Therefore, Minerva doubted that she would be able to do it as effortlessly as Professor Caledonian. But she really wanted it to work somehow. She wanted to be able to transfigure things because no other branch of magic impressed her as much. So Minerva glanced at her open book once more, reached for her wand and tried to do exactly as the book told her to.
And something actually happened with her match! Well, it didn't exactly look like a needle just yet, but when Minerva looked up, her classmates still seemed more or less clueless what to do. Minerva was just about to call Professor Caledonian when he spoke to the class.
"May I have your attention, please? This is how it's supposed to look in the end." He showed them a perfectly fine needle. "Mr. Dumbledore has succeeded in transfiguring his match. I've never seen this in a first lesson. It is quite a remarkable achievement. 15 points for Gryffindor. The rest of you don't be disappointed. It's…"
Minerva stopped listening. She looked gloomily at her own match-needle hybrid and when the bell rang, she left the classroom without bringing her match to the front.
"The Witch-Burning took place in the fourteenth century, but it was completely pointless…" Minerva tried to concentrate on her book, but the door was opened and the other girls of her dormitory came in, giggling, laughing and chatting. Minerva sighed and tried to continue with her reading.
"Have you seen her hair? She looks so stupid," Patricia Payne, the girl who slept in the bed next to Minerva's, said and the other three started giggling again.
Minerva wished she knew some kind of charm that would create a wall between herself and them and would protect her from all the noise they were making. It seemed to her that they did nothing but gossip all day long.
"What about you? Do you like her, Minerva?"
"Who?" Minerva asked without looking up from her book since she wasn't really interested in the answer.
"Milda Mercing," Patricia answered and immediately started giggling again. "Don't you think she looks horrible with that…?"
"I don't care what she looks like," Minerva interrupted her and slammed her book shut. "I think you are the ones who are stupid – spending all your time talking about others. Don't you have anything better to do? Studying would certainly do you some good." Having said that, Minerva left her dormitory and for the moment she didn't care about the shocked and offended looks on the other girls' faces.
She crossed the common room and was about to climb through the portrait hole when someone held her back. "Sorry, you dropped this."
Minerva turned around. It was Albus Dumbledore, who held out her notes, which, apparently, had fallen out of her book. She took them from him and muttered a silent 'thanks'. Then she left and went to the library. She knew she hadn't been very friendly, but she just couldn't help it. Whenever she saw Dumbledore, she felt that she didn't like him.
It was just so damn annoying that he was the best in each and every class. It was getting on Minerva's nerves to hear the teachers praise his astonishing talent. Part of her knew that she was merely jealous, but she didn't care. She had to admit, however, that she was curious about the origins of his talent. But she was too proud to ask and whenever he spoke to her, she quickly excused herself or simply walked away.
The library was her favourite place in Hogwarts. The Gryffindor common room might be more comfortable and warm, but it was always noisy in there and there were too many students. Perhaps it was odd, but Minerva preferred the silence of the library, where she could concentrate on studying. She didn't mind being alone because she thought her classmates, especially the girls in her dormitory, to be pretty stupid. So she often spent her afternoons hidden behind the bookshelves, making her homework or just reading for pleasure.
The one thing that bothered her about the library was that Albus Dumbledore seemed to be in here nearly as often as she was. Well, that probably shouldn't have been a surprise because where else would he get all his knowledge from if not from reading books? And normally, Minerva would have taken an instant liking to someone who read as much as she did. But with Dumbledore it wasn't that easy. So Minerva decided to ignore him. But that turned out to be quite difficult because he didn't seem willing to do the same.
While she was reading Starting Transfiguration, he approached her table. "May I sit down?"
No, Minerva thought. "Yes," she answered.
When Dumbledore had sat down, Minerva saw that the book in his hands was titled Advanced Transfiguration and for some reason that bothered her immensely. She didn't say anything, though, and tried to focus on her own book. But she couldn't concentrate anymore. Minerva had to read the same passage over and over again because she simply couldn't remember what it was saying.
She glanced at Dumbledore, but he just sat there and read his book. But why had he sat down at her table if he didn't want to talk to her? Well, because this was a library and that was what people were doing in a library. She was acting really stupid. But none of that changed the fact that she was unable to concentrate on studying any longer. So Minerva closed her book and started to collect her things.
Dumbledore looked up. "Am I disturbing you?"
Yes, she thought. "No," she answered.
Without saying anything else, Minerva left the library, and she was pretty sure that he looked after her. Perhaps she was acting stupid, but he was odd, too. He didn't behave like an eleven-year-old. She hadn't seen him laugh or make noise with the others in the common room, not even once. Actually, now that she was thinking about it, she hadn't seen him much in the common room, at all. Well, you could probably say the same thing about herself.
Minerva shook her head and decided to go outside and sit down near the lake, hoping that she would be left alone there.
Minerva sat on her bed in the dormitory and closed her eyes. Class was over for today and for once she was happy about that because she had felt pretty awful ever since she had gotten up this morning. She had no idea where it came from and she didn't really care. She had simply tried to ignore it because she'd refused to go to the hospital wing and miss school. But now she felt even worse than she had this morning. Her head was throbbing with pain, her arms and legs felt weak and she thought she might vomit if she made any rapid movements.
Minerva sighed when the door was opened and Patricia entered the dormitory. But they were currently ignoring each other and Minerva didn't expect her to stop doing so now.
"You don't look so good," Patricia said, however.
"Thanks," Minerva replied sarcastically and tried to turn her back towards her.
"No, seriously, you should go to the hospital wing," Patricia suggested. Minerva couldn't hide her surprise when she looked at her. "Because, you know, I hate to see people, well… vomit or something like that."
"Of course," Minerva said, her surprise fading at once. Well, she hated to admit it, but Patricia was right. Madame Heathral could probably help her and if she felt better, she could start on her homework.
So Minerva got up very slowly and paused for a moment, willing her stomach to behave while Patricia watched her anxiously. When she felt she could make it to the hospital wing, Minerva left the dormitory and crossed the common room, ignoring the other students. Just when she reached the portrait hole, it was opened from the other side and Dumbledore climbed through. But right now, Minerva was too focused on trying not to display the contents of her stomach for everyone to see, to pay much attention to him.
"Are you not feeling well?" he asked her, however.
"No, don't worry. I'm just peachy." Minerva shot back, feeling too sick to care about her rudeness. Being sick always made her cranky.
Dumbledore didn't seem offended, though. "Do you want me to accompany you to the hospital wing?" he offered.
"No, thanks," Minerva replied curtly. She wanted to open the portrait hole, but Dumbledore beat her to it. "I said no," she reminded him.
"I know," he said calmly.
"But?"
"I still decided to do it."
Minerva looked at him in disbelief. Why the hell wouldn't he just leave her alone? But she didn't have the nerves to argue about that now and Dumbledore patiently held the portrait hole open for her. When another wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm her, Minerva sighed and climbed through the hole. On the way to the hospital wing Minerva remained silent and Dumbledore walked just as quietly beside her. In hindsight, Minerva had to admit that a couple of times when she had tripped over her own feet, his steadying arms had been pretty useful. But as soon as the doors of the hospital wing came in sight, Minerva stopped.
"I think I'll manage the rest on my own," she said, making it clear that she wanted him to leave now.
"Get well soon," he nodded.
Minerva gave an awkward nod and then entered the hospital wing.
Next morning she was glad that she'd gone to the hospital wing because Madame Heathral had given her something to drink and ordered her straight to bed, promising her that she would be back to normal after a good night's sleep. And Minerva really did feel better today. The only problem was that she hadn't planned on spending the entire afternoon in the hospital wing. Not that anyone would have missed her. Patricia had certainly been relieved when she hadn't come back.
While Minerva was walking towards the Defence against the Dark Arts classroom for her first lesson of the day, she thought about how Dumbledore had accompanied her to the hospital wing. She still didn't know why he had done it. But then, she didn't really care, or did she?
Minerva reached the classroom just in time and Professor Merrythought entered mere seconds after she had sat down. She explained them what they were going to do today and Minerva was about to open her book when Professor Merrythought said: "While you're reading the chapter, I will collect your homework."
Minerva looked up in shock. Since she had been in the hospital wing for the entire afternoon, she'd had no time to write the essay. But Professor Merrythought was very strict when it came to homework. She had told them from the very beginning that she wouldn't accept any apologies. So Minerva was nervously playing with her wand while Professor Merrythought started to collect the essays in the row behind her. Minerva hated to disappoint her teachers, but in a few seconds Professor Merrythought would reach her and there was nothing she could do.
Suddenly, Dumbledore turned around in the row in front of her and put down an essay on her table. Minerva was so stunned that she couldn't react and now Professor Merrythought reached her and took the essay from her table. Still shocked, Minerva looked from her Professor to Dumbledore who sat with his back to her again. Throughout the entire lesson Minerva couldn't really concentrate and when the bell finally announced that it was over and the students started leaving the classroom, she hurried to catch up with Dumbledore.
"What was that all about?" she asked him.
Dumbledore looked at her. "You were sick yesterday and had no time to write the essay."
"Obviously. And?"
"I had rewritten my essay, so I had two versions and you needed one because Professor Merrythought isn't exactly known to be very understanding."
"But why did you give it to me?" Minerva demanded.
"I thought I just explained that to you. I wanted to help you," Dumbledore replied.
"What made you think I wanted your help?" Minerva hissed.
Dumbledore smiled at her. "Are you always this stubborn when it comes to accepting help?"
"What if I am?" Minerva shot back.
"It's not wise to build walls around yourself. Life is difficult enough as it is," he said quietly.
Minerva didn't know what to make of this odd statement. "What would you know about life? You're eleven years old!" she reminded him and headed towards their next classroom.
The pile of books was so high that Minerva almost vanished behind it. She had collected almost every book that could offer any information on the Sleeping Draught because Professor Vale had threatened them that those students who wouldn't be able to produce a perfect Sleeping Draught tomorrow would help clean out the cupboards and cauldrons. Minerva was one of the best students by now, but she had her difficulties with Potions.
When the librarian told her that they would close now and that it was time to return to her common room, Minerva borrowed the most important books and, ignoring the fact that she was breaking school rules, settled down in an empty classroom instead. In the common room it would simply be too loud to study. And Minerva had absolutely no intentions of failing this test tomorrow – not only because she didn't want to clean those disgusting cupboards, but because she wanted to impress Professor Vale. So she opened all her books and notes and continued studying.
Minerva totally forgot her surroundings, but when she could barely keep her eyes open any longer, she finally decided to go to bed. It was probably around midnight when she hurried through the dark and silent castle, hoping that she wouldn't run into the caretaker or some teacher. Minerva was sprinting up the stairs when it happened. In her hurry, she forgot about the trick step. When she stepped on it, it vanished and her foot became stuck between the steps.
Minerva fell. Her books and notes scattered all around her and she could barely stop herself from crying out in pain when she twisted her ankle. Minerva lay on the stairs for a few seconds and tried to pull herself together. Then she tried to free her foot, but it only caused tears of pain to run down her cheeks. Damn it, Minerva thought. She should have gotten used to this step by now and this had been the absolutely worst moment to forget about it.
It was around midnight and she should have been back in her common room hours ago. What was she supposed to do now? Minerva had never realized how scary Hogwarts could be. In the darkness she couldn't see much, but those silent noises all around her were the most upsetting. Whenever something sounded a bit like footsteps, she held her breath. On the one hand she wanted to be found, but on the other she knew that if the caretaker or a teacher found her, she was in for trouble.
But after a while Minerva started trembling from the cold and her foot was hurting and she began to think that she would gladly accept the punishment as long as anyone would get her out of this trap. Then she heard them and this time she was absolutely sure that it was footsteps. Her heartbeat accelerated and she expected to see the light of the caretaker's lantern closing in on her every second now. But it didn't, even though the footsteps were coming closer. Suddenly, a wand lit up in front of her.
"Minerva?"
She couldn't believe her eyes. Right in front of her stood Albus Dumbledore. Minerva wasn't sure whether she felt more like crying or laughing. "What are you doing here?" she asked instead.
"You are asking me what I am doing?" Dumbledore asked, however, instead of answering.
"Alright, never mind that now," Minerva said.
"I assume… the trick step?" Dumbledore asked and lowered his wand so that the light fell upon Minerva's foot.
"Oh no, I'm just lying here because it makes so much fun," Minerva shot back sarcastically. Dumbledore ignored her comment and tried to pull her up. A silent moan escaped Minerva's lips.
"I'm sorry," Dumbledore apologized immediately.
"It's alright. I think I just twisted my ankle," Minerva explained. Dumbledore nodded and carefully continued to free her foot. "Thanks," Minerva said and pulled herself up, clinging to the stair railing.
"You have to go to the hospital wing," Dumbledore told her.
Minerva stared at him. "Are you crazy? It's after midnight. I can't show up there now. I should have been in the common room hours ago." She tried to put her weight mostly on her other foot and to climb up the stairs like that.
"You won't make it to the common room on your own," Dumbledore said calmly.
"Yes, I will!" Minerva snapped.
"No, you won't."
Minerva ignored him and tried to make her way up the stairs, but her foot gave in and she sank back down. She looked up at Dumbledore. "What do you want from me?"
"To let me help you to get to the hospital wing," he said.
They looked at each other. "I hate déjà vus," Minerva sighed eventually. But she smiled tentatively when she reached for his hand. Dumbledore helped her up and they slowly made their way towards the hospital wing. When they got there, Minerva sat down on one of the beds and tried to brace herself for the trouble she would be in as soon as they woke up Madame Heathral. Why did it have to be Dumbledore who had found her? No other student would have insisted on dragging her to the hospital wing.
The matron really didn't look very happy when Dumbledore had woken her up. "What the hell are you doing here in the middle of the night?" she asked.
"Err…" Minerva began.
"She slipped on the stairs leading down from her dormitory to the common room," Dumbledore answered for her. Minerva looked at him in surprise.
Madame Heathral yawned. "Well, why did you get up at all?"
"Err… we have a very important lesson tomorrow and I couldn't sleep and decided to look something up in a book I had left in the common room," Minerva lied
"And why did you bring her here?" Madame Heathral asked Dumbledore.
"I was in the common room, studying," he replied quickly.
Madame Heathral shook her head and muttered something that sounded like 'first-years'. She had a look at Minerva's ankle and then touched it with her wand. "Try moving it." Minerva stood and nodded when there was no more pain. "Alright, try to be more careful next time and thank your little friend here. Oh, and go back to bed now." Having said that, she went back into her office.
Dumbledore and Minerva left the hospital wing. "You helped me out – again," Minerva said.
"It seems that I'm good at it." Dumbledore smiled at her.
"You're good at everything," Minerva corrected.
"Is that why you don't like me?" Dumbledore asked.
Minerva looked at him in surprise. Did he really have the correct answer to everything? "Do you know that you're scary?"
"Scary? No, it was never my intention to be scary," he answered, taking her statement way more seriously than she'd meant it.
"I know. It was just a joke," she hurried to clarify because she suddenly had the odd feeling that this was a touchy spot. "It's just that you are so serious all the time and you seem to know everything. And you're right, of course. It was bothering me. But why the hell am I telling you this? Well, I guess I'm in your debt – twice, actually." Minerva paused. "Why did you help me, anyway? I wasn't very… let's say… nice to you."
"No, but you fascinated me somehow," Dumbledore replied and when Minerva threw him an incredulous look, he added, "You were different. I always saw you in the library, alone and reading. I've never met someone who was that fascinated by books and I thought maybe we have something in common. You didn't know me, so I didn't take it personally what you said to me."
They reached the portrait of the fat lady and climbed through it into the empty common room. "Alright, then tell me, why are you so good at everything? How come you know… what you know?" Minerva finally asked.
There was a short pause. "Well, I read a lot," Dumbledore then said.
Minerva didn't look convinced. "So do I."
"See, and you're good."
"But not as good as you are. All the teachers adore you."
Dumbledore shrugged. "I can't explain it. And they're exaggerating. I'm not special and you're as good as I am."
Minerva shook her head. "It's nice of you to say that. I didn't know how modest you are."
"You couldn't. As I said before, you didn't know me."
"Oh, I'm a fast leaner," Minerva said and Dumbledore actually smiled.
"I guess we really should go to bed now," he said, however. Minerva nodded and headed for the stairs that would lead to the girl's dormitories. "And watch out for trick steps."
"Oh, I will," Minerva assured him. "And before I forget… thanks a lot."
"My pleasure," Dumbledore replied. "Good night."
Minerva shook her head. She'd never met an eleven-year-old boy like him. But she began to realize that he wasn't as bad as she'd thought. So she looked at him and smiled. "Good night."
Next morning in the Great Hall Minerva scanned the Gryffindor house table. When she had found who she'd been looking for, she hurried towards him.
"May I sit down?" she asked.
Albus looked up and smiled. "Of course. I would be delighted if you did so."
"You are really something," Minerva laughed and sat down. "So, Albus, why do you have four names?"
Albus laughed. She didn't know, of course, but he hadn't been laughing for a long time.
