Through Dumbledore's Eyes
Chapter 1
It was morning in early November, the towers of Hogwarts were touched with the warm glow of autumnal sunshine. A wizard with flowing silvery hair and beard, dressed in purple robes and vivid red hat, strode along the passage on his way back to his office. He barely seemed to notice how the normally grey stones of the walls shone with a faint golden tinge, didn't bother to glance out of the windows at the blue skies and windswept white clouds. Normally Albus Dumbledore would have enjoyed the beauty of such things, taken time to stop and marvel at them. Today though, he walked with his head slightly bowed, as if deep in thought. Albus's face was lined with worry and recent grief, his eyes duller than normal, and lacking their usual twinkle. Hearing the sound of approaching footsteps, he looked up and saw a tall witch in emerald green robes coming towards him. At once his face became lighter and younger looking, his eyes sparkled hopefully.
As Minerva McGonagall drew closer, Albus smiled tenderly at her and said"Good morning Minerva"
Hope left his eyes, and his face became unbearably sad, as Minerva swept past him in the corridor without so much as a glance or a single word. This had been going on for several days now. She barely acknowledged his existence, spoke to him only when school business demanded it, and steadfastly refused to look at him. His gaze followed her along the corridor willing her to turn back, to look at him, to smile at him. But her will was stronger and she vanished round the corner, leaving him alone again.
How much longer would she keep this up for ? Albus wondered forlornly. Of course he understood why Minerva was feeling so bad. He'd known this would be hard on her. Though he hadn't expected her to react in this way, to his decision to leave Harry with his relatives. Albus had thought that Minerva would need his comfort and support, he'd been ready for that, expected it. At first she had seemed almost normal with him, though quieter and more subdued certainly. As the days had passed Minerva had started to close off from him, it was as if an icy barrier had been erected between them. Try as he might he could not reach her, was shut outside, cut off from her. He'd never known her like this with him before. He was used to her fiery temper, and charmed it away with tender words, twinkling eyes, soft smiles and laughter, but this wall she was building between them scared him. He missed her so much. What if she never forgave him ? Never spoke to him again ? Albus didn't think he could bear it if that happened.
For a moment Albus stood motionless, almost as if he was waiting in case Minerva changed her mind and reappeared. Then he sighed sorrowfully and, slowly, almost unwillingly, resumed his walk to his office. Once in his office, he found it almost impossible to concentrate on the day to day business of running a school. Letters from parents remained unanswered, paperwork went unread, as the Headmaster for once neglected his duties. Instead he sat grave faced, hands clasped together, at his desk as he thought of Minerva. Struggled to find a solution, an idea, inspiration. How could he get her to talk to him again, to at least listen to him ? If she would just let him explain, give him a chance to talk to her. Normally Dumbledore always had a plan, even when things seemed impossible, he would find a way to make things right. This time, though, he had no plan, he was completely at a loss as to what to do. Finally he gave up on sitting and thinking, and started to pace back and forth on the carpet, hands clasped behind his back.
"Must you stomp up and down like that ? I'm trying to sleep you know! " complained one of the paintings that hung on the wall.
"If one wishes to take exercise, then one normally does so in the grounds, not in our office. We need our rest after all the hard work of being headmaster." agreed a languid looking man, from his painting.
Albus bit back an unusually irate response and, simply said "As you wish." Then turned and left his study. As he shut the door behind him, Albus thought how tiresome, the paintings on his walls could be at times. Normally he enjoyed chatting with them, was amused by their quirks and eccentricities, even found their input usefull on occassion. Today, though, he'd had enough of them, and was glad to escape the confining walls of his rooms. Perhaps a walk in the grounds wasn't such a bad idea, the fresh air might clear his head and help him to think.