A/N: D'Arcy and Salessandra are mine; pretty much everything else is JK Rowling's!

Harrietta could not have known, during those two weeks at the Leaky Cauldron learning about bras and other womanly things, that Hogwarts had recently welcomed her perfect match. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with wavy brown hair that fell to his shoulders and a big nose that showed signs of having been broken. He was D'arcy MacBeaver-Lafleur, and he'd been invited to Hogwarts; specifically, to Gryffindor House. He would be coming all the way from Canada. Minerva McGonagall had been furious when it was announced in the faculty meeting.

They'd had a heated argument in the halls about it when the other professors had gone-- it set all the portraits, ghosts, and students talking. "He was the brightest boy I'd ever taught! Such potential! Such a knack for causing trouble, and yet for solving problems too!" Tears were forming in McGonagall's eyes.

"Minerva," Dumbledore had said sternly, "Perhaps we should carry on with our discussion in my office."

As McGonagall swept past him in a huff, he thought I wish I could tell her the truth! Harry's gone, but he'll be back...No, no, I mustn't! I can't! Harry must be protected, and this is the only way...besides, Minerva's connection to the Death Eater incident...I must hold fast to my convictions! Before he knew it, they were walking up the stairs.

"This replacement," continued McGonagall angrily, "this...this...git will never-- OH! I am so very upset with this; it goes against my better judgement -- and think of the treatment he'll get from the other students! He won't be welcome at all, except in Slytherin!" There was a very unpleasant edge in the last word. It cut Albus like a razor.

Dumbledore's eyes flashed, but only briefly. He longed to set her straight. Now see here! My beauteous Salessandra did not revel in deception and trickery the way present-day Slytherins do! But he knew that he'd had a hand in her misinformation. In an instant, he was a defeated old man, overcome by guilt once more. Oh, if only I could go back in time and rewrite history once more. Of course, I do not have the power of time travel-- ohh my lover Salessandra, if only I did! How my heart aches for you!

Pulling himself together after such a thought-filled pause he spoke again. "Hmm. I see your point, Minerva-- I suppose I could put D'arcy in Slytherin and simply transfer Malfoy into Gryffindor..."

"This is no time for sarcasm, Albus!"

"Minerva, I encourage you to welcome him as you would any other student. This measure was, after all, suggested by the Sorting Hat. Never before has the Sorting Hat sorted a student who wasn't even present, who was on another continent entirely."

McGonagall looked thoughtful. He was right; after Harry's death, Dumbledore had called a faculty meeting. The professors had been all out of sorts-- even Snape-- and Dumbledore himself had cried a good deal. When he produced the Sorting Hat and it began its song, the suggestion had been this student. At first she refused to accept it. Perhaps the Sorting Hat had finally gone senile! But a stern glance from Albus and that thought had gone away. And she'd contacted the Regina Institute for Wizarding, and they'd confirmed that D'arcy was a student. And besides, thought McGonagall, he called you 'Minerva'! A rare occurrence, and one that you live for! Oh, could Albus finally be noticing me!? Oh, how foolish of me. Why am I so drawn to that obtuse, silly man? I always swore I'd never love a man I worked for! And nerdy, geeky, Albus Dumbledore, brother of a goat-charmer, at that! Half-moon spectacles and five-foot beard indeed! But if anything good could come of this tragic, tragic time...

"Minerva?" said Dumbledore sternly, "Have you come to a decision?"

She snapped out of her state of distraction and recalled the issue at hand. The new student. The Sorting Hat. Her decision. "Oh, mm, yes. The Sorting Hat has been here since the school's inception; it surely knows what's best." She sighed resignedly. "It won't be easy, Albus, but I'm willing to give this a whirl."

He smiled at her. Not a smile that hinted at anything more than simple appreciation, mind you; only Salessandra, Godfroid and Harry had ever seen his smile of affection. But to Minerva it meant the world. She barely heard him say "I'm pleased to hear that." Her insides were melting into a sweet, syrupy goo; she longed to stroke his ridiculous, silvery, beautiful beard. To seize him and kiss him while she had the opportunity. Oh Albus! Was she really so lonely as to fall for him? Your twinkling eyes. What of her poor deceased family? Come to me, you fool! The memory of her poor husband. Oh Albus! Why did he have that effect on her? Why could she never stand her ground for long against him?

D'arcy had arrived later that day, just three days after Harry's departure.