Chapter 1: Chapter 1

There was a firm knock on the door. Albus lifted his sight from the papers he had been working on during that whole afternoon. He didn´t even have time to answer when a very- or rather, extremely- angry Minerva McGonagall entered the office. Her face was flushed and he could see the anger and sadness in her eyes from where he was sitting. She trotted up the stairs which led up to his desk; Albus noticed her graciousness as she did so, it didn't matter what mood she was in Minerva always managed to be elegant and beautiful. Her lips were pursed and a few strands of hair had come out of her bun. He put his quill down and leaned back in his chair. He noticed as he looked into her perfect blue eyes that she was holding back the tears. His heart sank as he realized that whatever it was he had done, she was deeply hurt.

"My dear, what-"

"I TOLD YOU DUMBLEDORE!" she yelled "I TOLD YOU THIS WOULD HAPPEN AND YOU DIDN´T LISTEN TO ME!"

"Minerva, please calm down-"

"Let me talk Albus!" she cut him off, looking at him fiercely. "You shouldn't have let him compete! I told you this would end badly, and what did you do!? You just let him compete, or should I say pushed him into it, not even thinking about his safety! It's outrageous!"

"Minerva," he stated firmly as he stood from his chair, "Harry is not a boy anymore... and I didn´t know that Voldermort would be waiting for him at the end." He sighed and looked into her emerald eyes, her stern look had remained impervious. "The Goblet of Fire chose him and the rules are simple, those who are chosen must compete."

"Are you telling me" a clear tone of indignation in her voice, "that Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of all bloody times, couldn't see past all this rubbish? Do you take me for a fool Albus!? YOU let him compete and you were very much aware of the risks!"

Albus could feel the built-up frustration and exhaustion of the past month fueling his rage as he processed these words. He understood why she was angry, but she of all people should understand the stress he was under.

"Professor McGonagall, I beg you to lower your voice with me. It is not your place to judge my decisions."

"Not my... what!?" she retorted furiously, her nostrils flaring. "I'm your Deputy! And your friend! If I don't do it, then who will!?"

Dumbledore did not reply.

"You are unbelievable! That boy is in shock! He just witnessed the death of an innocent! I can't imagine how he must be feeling right now..." she trailed off as she scratched her eyebrow nervously, turning her back to Dumbledore.

"What do you expect Minerva!? What would you have me do!?" he snapped. "Because I don't see how this... this scene you're pulling on me is helping the situation! You think I wanted any of this to happen?"

"I think you should have known better than to let him compete!"

"No," he responded firmly.

"No?" she questioned with a look of disbelief. "What on Earth do you mean no?"

"You are not angry at my decision. You, Minerva, are grieving the loss of a student and dealing with the fact that Voldermort has returned, but you are not mad at me and you need to stop acting like an angry teenager."

There was a long pause and the words he had just said seemed to become heavier the longer it went. Albus could feel his head starting to ache as he tried to think about something to say that would somehow fix it. He looked up. Her eyes had filled with tears and her expression did not convey fury, but a mixture of shock and saddness. For a moment they looked into eachothers' eyes, and her gaze dropped to the floor, but Albus could make out the glittering trails of the tears that were rolling down her cheeks.

"Merlin´s sake Albus, for fifty years, every decision you´ve made I´ve accepted, and not only that, I have supported each and every one of them, without question, and what has it earned me?" She paused to wipe her face, "a position as the most expensive secretary in the Wizarding World."

"That's not true-"

"Oh, it isn't?" her attitude was no longer defiant and her voice was slightly quivering. "When was the last time you trusted me with any information? When was the last time you asked for and actually listened to my opinion for any kind of decision making?"

Albus remained silent. He was not used to seeing Minerva like this, and honestly he was more worried about her than he was about offering a proper explanation, which he knew he couldn't do. He went round his desk and reached for her arm, pulling gently in an unspoken request to look into her beautiful eyes. In that moment, all of the anger he had felt a few moments ago felt silly and selfish. She looked tired and her eyes were red and glassy.

"Do you regret it? Do you wish you had chosen a different path?"

"No", she responded almost immediately, then she paused. "What upsets me is that after all these years my views mean so little to you. That after fifty bloody years I haven't been able to... to just be enough for you."

His heart sank to his knees, he just couldn't think about what to say next, it was like his brain had suddenly frozen.

"I do the best that I can with the time I have, Professor."

"Then let me help you Albus, tell me what's going on."

Dumbledore considered it for a fraction of a second, but his love for this woman quickly reminded him that any information would only put her at risk, and that was something he definitely would not do. Minerva opened her mouth, looking for words that would describe her feelings towards his silence, but nothing came out. She nodded, "there it is."

"I thought I had your trust", he added grimly.

"You'll always have it, Albus", she almost whispered. "The problem is... I don't seem to have yours. After all these years... I have become obsolete."

Albus reached out to pull her into a hug, but she ignored his gesture and turned briskly to go back down the stairs.

"Minerva, you're not obsolete."

She sighed as she placed her hand on the doorknob, "I knew you'd say that."

The door closed behind her with a thud that was loud enough to extract a frightened squawk from Fawkes. A few of the portraits exchanged glances of concern and awaited for the headmaster's reaction, but he seemed to be in a state of trance.

"Deputies! Bah!" exclaimed Phineas Nigellus from his portrait. "They always credit themselves with more power than they're given! So ungrateful!"