Not Alone

Chapter 2: A Little Backup

"You don't have to do it alone, you know," a new voice squeaked.

Both Albus and Poppy turned their heads to see Filius Flitwick approach, with Pomona Sprout in tow. Their eyes shone with curiosity and concern. Never had they seen Dumbledore look so worn, and despite their being lost in the dark about the details of the situation, they knew it had to be because of whatever was the matter with Minerva McGonagall.

"What's happening, Albus? What's wrong with Minerva? And what can we do?" the tiny wizard asked.

Before Albus could say anything, Poppy ushered the lot of them into her office.

"Let's talk in here," she said, conjuring two extra chairs to join the one in front of her desk before taking a seat in her own. Once everyone had settled in, all eyes turned toward Albus.

He visibly shook as he struggled to find the words to say. It wasn't his place to reveal that their colleague had just tried to take her own life. It was up to her if she ever wanted to talk about it with them. After so long of hiding what led her to this point, Albus had no idea how long it would take for her to be ready to discuss her thoughts and emotions, and to admit that they led her down the dark road toward her suicide attempt. And, if concern for Minerva's feelings and respect for her privacy weren't enough for him to keep the details of her condition a secret, Poppy's mouthing of "patient confidentiality" was a deterrent.

"She is not well, Filius, but I can't say any more," he finally said, gravely enough to intensify the worry written across the two House Heads' faces.

"May we see her, Poppy?" Pomona asked, pained by the fact that there was something terribly wrong with her friend, yet she didn't even know what that something was.

"She's sleeping right now," Poppy said, "but I will let you know when she is ready for visitors. Please… don't count on it today."

Both Pomona and Filius nodded, understanding that their friend must be very ill. The four of them sat in silence for several minutes.

"Do you want me to look for a substitute to cover Minerva's classes, Albus?" Flitwick asked.

Albus seemed surprised at the question. He hadn't even thought of letting anybody else take over Minerva's lessons. For some reason, it just didn't seem right.

"I'll take them," he said impulsively, suddenly feeling three sets of eyes bore into him questioningly.

"Are you sure?"

The incredulous expressions on their faces were enough to make him second-guess himself. Poppy, knowing the best of all of them what might lie ahead, leered most inquisitively at the Headmaster.

"…No," he said resignedly. "I'm not sure if I'm sure about anything."

With his life and perspective thrown upside-down in the course of a single night, Dumbledore did not know how well he could trust his judgment right now. He had been running on adrenaline and acting out of sheer instinct for the past several hours; now, he had a lot of things to think through carefully. He did not feel that he could afford to make even the smallest erroneous decision, but he was not confident that he was of soundest mind or of adequate preparation to know what to do. Never would he have guessed that he would face his current situation.

"Headmaster, if I may offer my opinion," Madam Pomfrey interjected, "you should probably take Filius up on his offer. In all likelihood, Minerva will not be teaching for the next few weeks, and I imagine that you will find yourself quite busy with your typical responsibilities while actively supporting Minerva through her recovery—assuming you want to, that is. I'm under the impression that you plan to play a large role; am I correct?"

Albus pursed his lips and nodded. If he could do everything for Minerva right now, he would.

"All right. Filius, please find a suitable substitute. Hopefully we will not need one for too long. Find someone for at least one week—right, Poppy?"

"Probably two."

"Two weeks it is. Starting tomorrow?" Filius asked.

"Yes, please, if possible. Minerva will rest easier knowing that her students are not falling behind," Albus said.

"Will do. It's already late in the day—I should work on this immediately," Filius said and headed toward the door. "Please keep me in the loop, and if you need anything else, please let me know."

The Headmaster and mediwitch nodded their heads at him as he walked out of the room.

"Is there anything I can do?" Professor Sprout asked as soon as Filius left.

Albus and Poppy looked at each other. They barely even knew what to do.

"We'll let you know," Poppy said. "Honestly, we still have to figure a lot of things out. We have to see how Minerva fares this week and for a while to come. When we know more, and when Minerva is able to see others, then we'll all know better how to proceed from here."

"But just—be there for her," Albus fervently added. "We'll be okay, but—but—" He found himself choking up again. Minerva wasn't okay, and he didn't know if and when she would be.

"We'll be in touch," Poppy said tersely and began to usher Professor Sprout out of the office. With Albus apparently unstable and exhausted, it was up to the mediwitch to take charge of the situation. The best course of action, she thought, would be to calm him down sooner rather than later—or at the very least, let him break down privately.

The latter was imminent. Before Poppy could even return from escorting Pomona out, Albus was gasping for breath over uneven sobs with his face down on the desk. The image of Minerva's tortured, tear-stained face as she downed the contents of the flask flashed in his mind's eye. He could feel her writhing, barely conscious, as her body fought to rid itself of poison, while he prayed to all the gods he knew that she wouldn't choke on her own vomit as he struggled to bring her to the Hospital Wing.

What if she tries to hurt herself again as soon as she's released? Albus worried. What if this time in the infirmary just gives her time to sink deeper and plot another way to—to—to—shit, and what if I can't do enough to stop her? What if I try to do too much and she pushes me away?

The awful truth was that he had no real understanding of what Minerva was experiencing. He had no idea of the thoughts that went through her head, the (flawed?) logic that gave them weight, or of her responses to all of them. He bore witness to one reaction to the terrible thoughts she harbored, but if it weren't for that, he would still have absolutely no idea that she was suffering so much at all. If he was so clueless as to the mere existence of a problem of this magnitude, how could he know how to help solve it?

"I'm useless," Albus murmured to himself, just as Madam Pomfrey returned to her office.

"Don't say that," Poppy said. "You're not."

"Are you sure? I don't honestly know how to help her. I can try to pay more attention and try to provide her with what she needs if she tells me, but really, what else can I do? I don't know. I can't fix this. I don't even understand this. We both know that Minerva is a perfectly levelheaded, intelligent, rational person, and if it weren't for this—this thing clouding her vision, she wouldn't believe that her life was worthless. How the hell do we cure her mind?"

Poppy looked taken aback by his intense realism. As much as she was trying to be calm, collected, and confident that everything would be okay, she knew that Albus had a point.

"I—I don't know," she answered, horribly sobered by the thought.

Albus was frustrated by their combined lack of knowledge. Throughout all of their years of working at Hogwarts, they still had not learned how to handle this type of situation. Surely, at the most prestigious school for witchcraft and wizardry, where despite the many great perks of the institution, mental health issues arose from time to time. How many students or staff members fell prey to these problems? How many could have benefited from someone trained to help them cope and heal? It suddenly seemed as if they had done a great disservice by lacking such resources.

"Poppy, are we failing Minerva if we don't seek help from a specialist at St. Mungo's? What if this beyond us?"

Madam Pomfrey looked conflicted.

"I want Minerva to see a psychological Healer, but if she doesn't want to, then I can't force her. I just can't. She's an adult. Maybe if she were a student, but…"

Albus sighed heavily.

"I know we can't make her do anything, but I feel so irresponsible if we don't push her to do something."

"I'll—I'll talk to her about it more," Poppy said. "Today doesn't seem like a good day to press, though. I don't want to overwhelm her."

"Okay." As much as Albus wanted everything to get better faster, he knew that things would take time, and he would need a lot of patience.

"And Albus?"

The headmaster looked expectantly at the mediwitch.

"Please remember to take care of yourself, too. It looks like we're in for a long journey."

Albus nodded. Today was just the first out of what would likely be many uncertain, difficult days. No matter how long it would take, he vowed that he would be there for Minerva throughout all of it.

A/N: Thank you for reading, and an extra thank you to those who have reviewed so far!