"How are you feeling?"

Minerva looked up from her book. She instantly scrambled upright, a blush spreading on her cheeks. "Professor Dumbledore!" Then she flinched in pain. Her back must still be healing.

"You don't have to sit up," he said quickly. Much to her embarrassment, he then helped her lean against her pillow. It was propped against the headboard, supporting her weight while granting her comfort.

"I've brought you something to make your stay more endurable." He beamed, gesturing to the goods that had magically appeared on her bedside table. She quickly recognized the spines of 'Practical Guide to Animagus Transformation', 'The Dos and Don'ts of Advanced Human Transfiguration', and 'Removing the Tail When You're Not in Your Furry Suit: Quick Fixes to Animagus Transformation Mistakes'. A tin of ginger newts in Honeydukes wrappings was sitting on top of the books.

"Thank you," she smiled gratefully. "I was wondering how I could pass the time. Watching first years with burnt hair and tinted skin come and go isn't especially entertaining."

"Oh, I believe you." Wandlessly he conjured a fluffy armchair for himself. "Hence I've brought you some reading material lest you decide to… express your boredom in more creative ways."

Minerva sighed. "I've only done it once and now everyone thinks the Hospital Wing is going to be blown up whenever I'm around."

"They've taken precautions, yes." Albus chuckled lightly. "If I'm not wrong, there is a powerful protective charm surrounding your bed. I daresay it is completely fireproof and airtight, so anything you attempt will be retained in this space. Filius charmed it himself, I believe."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Professor Flitwick? He's involved in this?"

There was a mischievous glint in Albus's eyes. "Why yes, last I heard, your Charms Master is trying exceptionally hard to win the matron's favors. Saving the Hospital Wing from a much expected catastrophe should make her quite pleased."

"Is my reputation that bad?" Minerva giggled.

"Well, you are the most renowned seventh year in this school, and many times the topic of discussion in the staff room." He winked at her.

Out of nowhere, a small bag of sherbet lemons appeared on his lap. He fished one out eagerly and popped it into his mouth.

She was still squinting at him suspiciously when he looked up. "I thought Riddle would be more popular."

"Between the Headmaster and Professor Merrythought, perhaps." He clucked his tongue, "Between me and Filius, and the rest of the staff, not so much." He added with a merry laugh, "A high achiever with a flair for troublemaking is more interesting a topic than one who pretends to be deathly rule-abiding."

The twitch at the corner of her lips told him that she took his comment in good humor, for he knew she prided herself in her mischievous accomplishments. He admitted that her pranks were usually quite tasteful, and often provided much entertainment. He, who the public expected to literally represent the dictionary definition of appropriateness, was less privy to such opportunities of recklessness.

"What do you teachers talk about then?" She asked, curious.

"Your extraordinary feat on the Quidditch pitch, for example."

"That's still Riddle." Minerva said bitterly, her shoulders dropping in the slightest disappointment. "He shoved me off my broom."

"Yes, and we have seen it happen." He said matter-of-factly. Her expression shifted from disappointment to distress, anger, then to silent acceptance. "Nonetheless some of us see but not perceive, and others perceive but deny. Filius, Herbert, and I have all made our argument that Slytherin's win should be revoked, but Armando was adamant that Mr. Riddle was not in the wrong. Regretfully, the Headmaster has the final say in this matter."

"I expected as much, but thank you for making that argument." She huffed sourly. "Headmaster Dippet is convinced that Riddle can do no wrong. Certainly you've seen the absurdity in Hagrid's expulsion."

"I've seen it and fought it, but my efforts were futile." He sighed. A smile quickly replaced his deepening frown. "But I did not come to give you a headache or a reason to mull over depressing matters, Miss McGonagall. I came to reassure you that despite the fact Slytherin won the competition in name, most of us believe you would have caught the Golden Snitch had Tom not made that underhanded move." He paused, and then added, "And I've come because I rather miss having my star student in my class."

"I miss yo- your lessons too. I hope I won't be too behind when I return." She mentally slapped herself, regretting how intimate her confession would have sounded had she said "I miss you too". For that to her meant something else entirely. An emotion that he would not understand, and even if he did, he would not approve or accept. For how could a man as powerful, intelligent, wise, and famed as Albus Dumbledore ever return her feelings? She felt childish, silly even. She was, she thought bitterly. She was only eighteen. What could a child like her know about love?

"I can tell you most certainly that that notion is unfounded," he smiled warmly. "You have been two years ahead of everyone else since you've attended Hogwarts, and I've never had a brighter student. I do hope we can resume your Animagus training as soon as possible, as one's intuitive grasp of the transformation tends to wane easily over time."

She nodded gingerly, knowing herself that she was beginning to forget what little sensation she had managed to conjure in her previous attempts. Yet the images in her mind were less of her training and more of the chess games, hot chocolate, and conversations that followed in the privacy of his chambers. How she wished he felt the same, caring beyond the progress of her Animagus transformation. How she wished he shared even the tiniest fraction of her longing.

The silence that stretched between them was interrupted by a timely intrusion.

"Min-ner-va!" Rolanda's characteristic singsong voice was followed by the appearance of Poppy and herself, who bounced out from behind the bed screen.

"How are you still stuck in this helluva-" Rolanda paused abruptly when Poppy elbowed her, gesturing to Albus. "Professor Dumbledore!" She exclaimed.

"We should leave-" Poppy said immediately, flashing a knowing glance at Minerva's direction.

"Yeah well, we'll give you some time alone," Rolanda caught on quickly, ignoring the death glare from Minerva. She grinned, gesturing wildly at the blandness of the Hospital Wing. "Need a vase of flowers? Valentine's decorations? A powerful aphrodisiac-" Poppy slapped her hand onto Rolanda's mouth and dragged her away.

"We'll come back later then."

The curtains fell back into place. Minerva could still hear Rolanda's cry, presumably as she traced the outline of Poppy's handprint on her mouth. "Ouch!"

"Subtlety, Ro! Discretion!" Minerva could picture Poppy throwing her arms in the air in frustration, "Flowers, yes! Pink heart-shaped garlands, fine! But aphrodisiacs, of all things to suggest! Are you mad?"

"The tension's so obvious it's frustrating." Rolanda said defensively. "I'm just tryna help."

There came inaudible mumbling on Poppy's part, then in a much calmer voice she added, "Indeed… Lovebirds they are. But let me do the suggestions next time." Poppy's agreement faded into the distance.

Minerva rolled her eyes, "They're so immature." She felt less mortification than she had anticipated. Evidently her eccentric professor saw only humor in the otherwise awkward situation. She was too guarded to feel heartbroken over something so trivial.

Sure enough, when she finally mustered enough courage to study his reaction, his eyes were gleaming with amusement. "They meant well," he said.

"I'm sorry you had to endure that, Professor. They're very much mistaken."

There was a momentary pause on his part, and for one fleeting second she thought she saw the shade of his brilliant blue eyes darken. Then he replied lightheartedly, "Really? Despite my hopes that it might be true?"

Minerva felt her heart skip a beat. "I beg your pardon?"

The moment was gone. She had not caught it fast enough.

Albus shook his head and smiled. It was the smile of a friend, a mentor. "I must have lost my mind. Fancy a chess game?"

As he conjured a chessboard between them, she felt as though their time had come to an end, just as the moment had. The pieces settled into place, but her hand swiped right through them. She tried grabbing his hand, but it faded into nothing. She blinked once. Then without a sound, she woke.


A massive bundle of curtains came straightly into Minerva's view. That vision was followed by lightless wall lamps and moonlit bed screens within a five feet radius. Anything beyond was draped in darkness, so dark that half of her bedside table was engulfed in unreadable blackness. Everything in line with the tall window behind her was tinted in a harmonious shade of blue.

She inched towards her side, trying to catch a glimpse of other occupants. It proved a bad idea when she propped herself up on her left forearm, only to realize that she had not yet fully recovered.

"Ow!" She gasped, falling back. She groaned again as the back of her head hit the headboard. In sequence, her head landed onto her uncomfortably stiff pillow with a dull thud. How she hated being in the Hospital Wing.

The bed screen parted as she sat herself upright again, rubbing her head to ease the tenderness. The mediwitch strolled in with a small smile. The petite woman reminded Minerva of a younger, more sprightly Poppy in appearance, yet a slightly sterner Rolanda in demeanor.

"Good evening, love. How are you feeling?" Without waiting for an answer, she continued. "I hope you've recovered some degree of function in your arm and that painful outburst was not you trying to break it all over again." Her words were cluttered in a rushed string of syllables that was difficult to follow.

Minerva felt her headache resume. "Madam Wright," She addressed her tentatively, buying herself a second to get a grasp of the situation. "How is it that…" She wanted to ask about her transformation, but as she gripped her own hands reflexively, she was touching taut, unwrinkled skin. She was still… young.

"You're in the Hospital Wing, of course. You've been out for three whole days," Madam Wright answered briskly, spoken as though Minerva had not uttered a single word. "I've wanted to send you straight to St. Mungo's, if it weren't for Professor Marie's request. You were quite badly injured. That was a very bad stunt you pulled, and very reckless of you." She shook her head disapprovingly.

On any other day Minerva would have had a ready-formed retort, but at that moment her mind was as blank as a fresh piece of parchment. "Professor Marie's request?" She repeated uncertainly, her fingers clenching the hem of her quilt in unvoiced confusion.

"Aye, your captain owled me a note signed by the good professor. A request that you be treated in Hogwarts for undisclosed reasons. Ridiculous, I say. What can a Transfiguration teacher know about the highly complex realm of healing magic?" Thankfully, she continued without catching Minerva's scowl. "I've mended your bones but try not to move so much. I will do one last check-up on you in the morning. You should be good to go tomorrow."

"Thank you, Madam. May I-" A muffled scream caught Minerva unawares, and she trailed off, her question forgotten.

Madam Wright clamped the folder in her hands shut immediately. Her nostrils flared in annoyance. "It's Skele-Gro," she explained. "Some people obviously can't take the least bit of pain. The girl has a pillow to scream into but I ought to go before she wakes the entire wing." She muttered something about reckless students attempting human transfiguration when they ought to be testing their handiwork on hedgehogs. Then she cursed the Transfiguration Mistress for not supervising those childish attempts, and thus inevitably adding to her workload.

"Should I light the lamps for you?" Madam Wright asked, pointing her wand at the lamps on either side of Minerva's bed.

"Y-" Minerva paused in slight displeasure as the mediwitch lit the space without acknowledging her answer yet again. Did the woman ever listen? "Yes, please."

Nevertheless, her displeasure melted away as the warm yellowish glow chased away the coldness of the ward. The mediwitch turned to leave, but stopped short before the opening. "Oh, do tell that lad to get some sleep on a proper bed. He's been sitting there forever."

Minerva looked around, her eyes quickly adjusting to the sudden brightness. Her heart skipped a beat. Albus was dozing off in a chair, his chin supported dangerously on his hand. His elbow was an inch from slipping off the edge of her bedside table. The bed screen was almost draped upon his shoulders for the way he sank against it, as if he was deliberately hiding from her view. Judging by his posture, he had not been asleep for long. He would not have the luxury to stay asleep for long either.

When the mediwitch was gone, Minerva found herself lost in the sight of Albus's sleeping form. His hair framed most parts of his face as his entire upper body tipped forward. For once her attention was not fixed on his intense gaze, but his slightly agape mouth and the long bony fingers that his chin rested upon. His youthfulness had become less and less foreign in her gradual acceptance. Instead she had developed new appreciation for his energetic and frolicsome behavior. Those traits of his were not lost with age, but tamed, and Merlin bless whoever tamed the brightest and boldest of Hogwarts.

She chuckled lightly as he frowned in his sleep, seeming genuinely sorry. Perhaps he did feel remorseful that his prank had gone horribly wrong. That look had passed his features fleetingly over the years whenever his April Fools' pranks went awry. Which they did, time and again. The man had learned nothing after all those occasions. Thankfully for him, while playfulness at twenty would be labelled as naughty, that at one hundred and twenty would simply be eccentricity.

As her initial amusement faded, she vaguely remembered waking up to the same scene when she was hit by four Stunners. Her Albus, then worn looking and ridden with guilt, had settled into slumber in a secluded corner of her room. She remembered counting the minutes until his elbow slipped, much like what she was doing now.

Five minutes past, Albus lost his balance as his elbow finally lost support and his chin crashed down onto her bedside table. He looked up in shock, then rubbed his chin with a look of pain.

"They've invented beds for a reason," Minerva drawled with obvious amusement.

"How long have you been awake?" His voice was heavy with sleep. He rubbed his eyes, while reorienting himself and straightening his back.

"Not long, just enough to see you break your chin."

Again he rubbed his chin gingerly, tasting a trace of blood in his mouth. Then he reached for his pocket, roaming its insides as his eyebrows screwed in concentration. "Drink this," he finally offered, producing a vial from his pocket.

"More of your Youth Potion?"

The surprise that passed his features briefly, though unnoticeable to most others, was not something she missed. He smiled, still holding out the vial, "It's one way to stay young."

"Most people would prefer the Elixir of Life." She accepted the potion nonetheless. The vial he used now was more transparent, and the substance within was not of murky mud-like texture, but much clearer and visually pleasant. It looked considerably less like the Polyjuice she had seen Alastor carry around.

"When did you find out?" He asked casually. His gaze mirrored his careless intonation, but the fact that he was rubbing his thumb a little too urgently said otherwise about his outward unconcern.

"When I caught the Golden Snitch," she said calmly. "I saw my own reflection. Needless to say I was horrified."

"Ah, extraordinary timing," he mused aloud.

Minerva rolled her eyes and downed the liquid. The heat traveled across her body, filling her limbs and eventually her extremities. Although this time it was to maintain her current form rather than initiating a transformation.

"The matron said I was out for three days," she began uncertainly. "How am I maintaining… this?"

Albus clucked his tongue and pulled out a chunk of plastic tubes from his robes. They looked vaguely like medical equipment. "It's a Muggle equipment called a feeding tube," he explained, before settling into an uncomfortable squirm. "I used a bit of magic to get it… in, but I don't think you'll want to know how it goes."

It spiked her interest. "How do you know of such things?"

"My mother was a Muggle-born witch," he admitted. He paused, but she looked at him with an expectant expression. He cursed himself for his next words, for he had almost never mentioned his family in anyone else's presence. "I've seen her use it on my sister. She was traumatized at a very young age and fell unconscious for a while. She couldn't swallow. So my mother tended to her with this."

Albus felt oddly at ease in disclosing his secrets to her. Many things he did not know were secrets, until he counted how scarcely he brought them up in any conversation. His family was a topic that he would rather end a dialogue over than to discuss in public.

"Your sister… how is she?" Minerva asked despite her better judgement. She almost bit her tongue for asking, but she was curious. She wanted to know her point on the timeline - whether Ariana was alive… or dead - despite the predetermined nature of those events.

Albus shook his head solemnly. "She is… well, as well as she can be. My brother takes care of her."

"Ah, Aberforth."

He didn't seem surprised. The Dumbledore brothers' relationship was public knowledge. But neither was he eager to jump onto the topic.

"I have to say, force feeding you this potion was not the most pleasant experience. I'm glad you're awake." Albus changed the topic and reverted to a lighthearted voice. He banished the vial in her hand and smiled.

"Thank you," she said.

"Are you still angry at me?"

Her pale skin reddened in response. She looked away, somewhat embarrassed and annoyed altogether. Yet he knew anger was not her predominant emotion then. "Somewhat, do I look angry?"

A sound between an uncontrollable snort of laughter and his signature chuckle of platonic amusement escaped him. "You threatened to turn me into a Flobberworm. Then you called me a barmy old codger."

Minerva halted and stared at him curiously. Did she say that? She supposed she did. The threat was composed in her vocabulary. Only she, Rolanda, and the house elves would call Albus Dumbledore a barmy old codger. Only she, being the Transfiguration Mistress, would threaten to turn him into a Flobberworm. Anyone else would have consulted a lengthy array of swear words. He was studying her expression, but his own was visibly clueless. She smiled, deliberating her response carefully.

"You did remind me of someone. And that threat is well placed considering what level of a prank you've pulled on me."

He clasped his hands together and pulled away, seemingly satisfied with her answer. "It was a good idea until you decided to jump off your broom," he pointed out.

"Why did you feed me Youth Potion instead of Polyjuice?" She asked suddenly.

That question had been lingering in her mind ever since she uncovered his prank. In fact, she had an inkling that her subconscious mind knew something was amiss long before downing the potion. There were visible clues, like the semi-opaque vial he offered, his hasty approach immediately before the game, him hurriedly banishing the mirror, and talking her into the transformation with such fervor. Perhaps, like many April Fools', she had willingly walked into his traps to entertain. More so, to feed her own yearning for adventure. Neither of them had anticipated such serious repercussions.

"I was curious." Albus admitted, shrugging carelessly. Again, the slight tremble of his lips betrayed his nervousness. He was not as remorseless as he portrayed himself to be.

"Ah," she nodded grimly. "Curiosity damn near killed the cat."

In a forcibly high-spirited voice, he asked, "Did you enjoy it?"

Minerva stifled any display of mirthfulness, though silently she revelled in her newfound ability to read his body language despite his often contradictory speech. Either he was loosening up in her presence, or he was generally less apt at maintaining his pretense when he was younger. Nonetheless, she saved him from much unneeded embarrassment by feigning ignorance.

"Quidditch?" She asked, and he gestured the affirmative. "Yes, more than I would like to admit."

"I'm glad," he said quickly. Her agreement appeared to be his salvation. He almost let out the sigh of relief he was holding.

A grimace graced her features. Heedlessly she touched her wounds, tracing the scars where they remained. "But I would rather not do it all over again. Once is enough."

He laughed, running his hand through his hair as if her statement was both overwhelming and accusing, but entertaining nonetheless. "I'm not letting you get on a Quidditch pitch again, ever," he swore, "To be honest, I'm traumatized myself. I can't imagine myself riding a broom with that memory of you plummeting down in my mind."

"You were in the way," she wrinkled her nose in remembrance of the event. She could have gone down with thirty backward somersaults, instead of ramming into a metal goal post.

"I was, deliberately so," he chuckled in slight embarrassment. "I was trying to catch you."

"Good intentions often yield bad results."

Without missing a beat, he smiled, "As always."


They finished two rounds of chess in the next few hours - their customary pastime during her two months of teaching, whenever he caught her alone.

Albus was less experienced yet quick-witted and level-headed, but Minerva's skills remained unmatched. After all, for too many years the same man had honed her skills, giving her the ability to see through most of his tricks. Most of them. Minerva won both rounds, but her win was not at all smooth. No one had challenged her quite enough in the past decade - not even Albus's portrait. For despite all the personal training he had obtained from his namesake, the portrait was merely a shadow of her beloved.

In a feat of self-deception, she added two extra wins to the long-running tally between them. Those numbers had remained unchanged for over ten years.

The sun was rising just as Minerva's Knight knocked down Albus's King, crushing it into tiny crumbs in the process. Albus gulped at the brutal display. Upon vanishing the chessboard with a defeated sigh, he looked around curiously. "The matron should be coming soon. She needs to check that you are well."

It suddenly occurred to Minerva that their secret might not be as safe as they willed it to be. "The matron…" Her voice rose slightly in panic, "She has my medical records."

Albus was characteristically nonchalant. "I'm sure."

Minerva frowned. "Wouldn't one realize that McFarland and Marie are the same person? She has been tending to me for three days. Surely she can't have been that daft." Wizarding health records were so unnecessarily comprehensive, she thought. Besides, if Madam Wright was indeed that oblivious, Minerva would have a hard time trusting her professional qualifications.

"No, she suspects it every time." Albus smiled, disregarding the look of surprise as her eyes widened and she backed involuntarily against the headboard.

"What?" She paled.

"Just in time," Albus whispered, seeing the matron approach them. "Watch me."

"Good morning, Miss McFarland." Madam Wright's eyes traveled quickly to Albus, who had a charming smile plastered on his face. "I see this young man is still here, but no matter. I need to run a quick diagnosis on you to determine the progress of your healing, so just stay still and let the wand do its job." She waved her wand in the air and started counting off her analysis. A quill wrote feverishly on levitated parchment. She muttered, "Body temperature... Normal… Healing at moderate pace… Hm… Bones are mending on schedule…"

Minerva watched from the corner of her eye that Albus's hand was inching towards his pocket. Quietly he pulled out his wand.

The matron took the levitated parchment in hand and started ticking off the list. When she was done, she nodded at the results in satisfaction. "Nothing out of the ordinary, love. Your healing is going quite well." She then frowned, flipping the parchment over and back again as she inspected the details. "I swear I've seen these records before. Do you have a sister here? I can't precisely remember where, but I do remember patients' records…"

"Madam?" Albus prompted politely.

"Hm…" Waking from her contemplation, she looked up at the seemingly harmless auburn-haired teenager. "Yes?"

"Confundo," he said quietly.

The spell hit the matron immediately, rendering her dazed and dizzy. For one split second, Minerva almost wanted to hold the woman before she collapsed. Then Madam Wright regained her balance and looked around, first at the ward, then at Minerva, then Albus. "Did I-?"

"Yes, she's well." Albus said with faint dismissiveness. "Thank you for checking on her, Madam. Have a good day."

The matron parted the bed screen and walked out, still looking around with a dazed expression. The quill and parchment followed her promptly in midair.

"You Confunded her!" Minerva hissed in disbelief.

"Why, yes, I did." Albus replied matter-of-factly. "It is better than Obliviating her, agreed?"

Minerva rolled her eyes. Casting such spells defied her morals. Yet there were many things Albus did in his past that she had disagreed with, only to learn that they were the best solution to often unavoidable situations. Changing the topic, she demanded, "Tell me about Saundra McFarland."

"What about her?" There was a trace of self-assurance in his voice that she did not like hearing.

"How is it that they don't notice I'm a different person?"

"Ah," He droned, cocking his head to one side, as if her question was truly enlightening despite how obvious her query was to her. "Because I made her up."

"You what?"

"Saundra McFarland, according to my story, is a Beauxbatons exchange student who was granted special permission by my Head of House to join my team for Quidditch." He gestured to her briefly, her being his honorary Head of House. "Saundra has arrived early for the Quidditch matches but will, because of medical reasons, not participate in the upcoming Tournament. Elphias and I are spreading the rumors, of course. Rest assured that our trustworthiness, in popular opinion, is quite high. Hence you can come and go as you wish."

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore-" she warned, impatience and annoyance seeping into her voice all at once.

He flashed her an innocent smile. "Yes?"

"You lied to me!" She pointed at him accusingly. In her wrath her accusation sounded stupid to her own ears. Her mind acknowledged not only "you lied to me" but "you lied to me… again!"

He feigned a second of bewilderment before reverting back to his infuriating slyness. "Evidently."

"Ugh," she groaned, her face falling onto her palms as she willed the image of his charming, confident grin away. "How is it that you grow up to become-" She stopped muttering abruptly. Then slowly she shook her head. "Never mind… you're unbelievable."


Albus was humming merrily and levitating four plates of his favorite breakfast when he returned to the Hospital Wing at five past eight. Two of which were filled to the brim by an assortment of desserts. He had taken generous servings from the breakfast table as he wanted to evaluate her likes and dislikes.

Yet when he arrived at her bed, Minerva's face was contorted in an odd mixture of fascination and envy. It quickly shifted into a grateful smile as he sat down next to her. His eyes traveled to the opposite end of the room, wanting to know what had drawn such a reaction from her.

A Seventh Year was sleeping soundly in the opposite bed across the corridor. In her arms was a baby, clinging to his mother with his short, chubby arms.

Without hinting that he saw her expression from before, he levitated the dishes before her in a straight line. His attempt was interrupted by a shrill cry.

"Oh dear, for Merlin's sake, children, do use a table!" Madam Wright came about again, waving her wand hysterically. She conjured a small table before Minerva, with legs attached stably on her bedside. Then she glared at Albus. "Can you imagine the pain that I go through cleaning after your crumbs? Can you? And they say you're the best Transfiguration student Hogwarts has ever seen, Mr. Dumbledore! Somehow conjuring a table has never crossed your mind, has it?"

Albus muttered his apology, growing red-faced at the matron's scolding. His eyes trailed fleetingly back to the sleeping forms of the mother and son despite himself, much to Madam Wright's dismay.

"An unmarried mother, at the tender age of seventeen." She exclaimed disdainfully. "Children these days are unbelievable."

She eyed Minerva meaningfully. "Fair warning to you, young lady. You don't want to end up like her. So please for the love of Merlin use a contraceptive charm."

Albus stifled the laughter in his throat. Minerva looked as though she was going to retort the mediwitch, but thought better of it.

Seeing that neither student had any intention of giving her a response, Madam Wright sighed. "I'll come again to check on you in the afternoon, Miss McFarland. If there are no new complications - and hopefully there will not be any lest you engage in some unnecessarily dangerous activity - you will be welcome to go. Mr. Dumbledore, you should go back to your lessons."

"You heard her," Minerva glared at Albus once the matron was gone.

"I will, soon. I can afford to miss a few lessons." He said offhandedly, while reaching for a cinnamon roll waffle topped with cream cheese icing. "You looked like you were going to say something when she gave you her advice."

She shook her head. "She's about as conservative as my grandparents."

"Why, I thought you'd agree with her, Professor."

Her frown deepened as she skimmed the contents of his choice of breakfast with ill-masked disgust. Two plates full of sugary dessert for breakfast was simply unacceptable. Her eyes finally settled on the standard fried egg on toast. While she fished it onto a spare dish, she replied absently, "I can list at least a dozen things that are stronger than something as superficial as a marriage vow."

"Indeed, though I'd like to hear what you have in mind." He prompted curiously.

Minerva shrugged. "A binding charm, for example."

"A binding charm, you say?" He repeated with slight surprise, urging her to continue. Ancient protective charms were not on his list of things that were stronger than a marriage vow.

"It binds two souls together." She paused, her hesitation apparent. Though she was facing his direction, there was an unsettling, faraway look in her eyes. "In a life-threatening situation, his magic becomes mine to use, and mine for him. The charm belongs in the same family as sacrificial protection, but it is weaker and with its limitations." She chuckled when his eyebrow rose in question. "Yes, I was bound to a man before I knew of it. A spell for life. I agree, it is ridiculous." Yet the evidently affectionate smile lingering on her face had shown none of her incredulity.

Albus fell silent for a moment. "Are you still bound to him, even now?" He asked eventually, his voice thickened by a strange cadence that hinted of jealousy. Thankfully, she seemed too immersed in her memories to notice.

"No," she sighed, "He is gone now, body and soul. Magic dissipates when the caster is dead."

"You wish you weren't freed from the bind?" He asked, his eyes downcast and no longer meeting hers.

Minerva stilled completely, her hand suspended in midair. Slowly she lowered her fork, as if his question had ruined her appetite. "I was devastated when I felt the spell lift," she admitted quietly.

"But-?" He prompted knowingly.

Minerva shook her head sadly and smiled. "Well, it also means he has moved on… to a better world."

He nodded slowly. "True, and very wise."

"The matron was wrong about another thing…" Minerva murmured. She chuckled to herself, but it sounded bitter even to her own ears, "I envy the young mother, more than I can say. I'd trade places with her in a heartbeat."

Albus's mouth was full, but his expression conveyed his question.

Impulsively she replied, as though she had waited too long for someone to listen, "I've never had children. Always wanted them, but never had one." Her momentary outburst was followed by her own stunned silence. She paused uncertainly and he waited patiently for her to continue. Then, as if she had finally made up her mind, she heaved a sigh and continued. "A stunning spell left me with a miscarriage and I was unable to conceive again."

Instantly his eyes darted to her chest in realization, and without knowing when or how, she knew he had glimpsed the Stunner scars on her older self. Yet now it was all an unblemished span of porcelain. "No… those occurred much later in my life."

"...I'm sorry to hear that." He debated asking when it had happened, or what exactly had happened, but her expression told him that their discussion was over.

"It was so long ago... and in a way I have raised many more children than I was blessed to have." Her last sentence was an inaudible whisper. Then forcing her emotions away, she reminded him, "You should go when you're done, Mr. Dumbledore. Professor Merrythought will miss having her star student in her class."


Minutes after escaping the Defence Against the Dark Art classroom, Albus made his way to the seventh floor of the castle and into the left corridor. Gellert was absent again, but Professor Merrythought seemed sufficiently entertained by her dear Slytherins to question his whereabouts. Albus walked by the same spot thrice before reiterating his demand to the wall. The door should appear then. The other occupant had requested that only Albus and himself would be allowed into the room he specified.

"You're spending an awfully long time away," came a voice from deep within the Room of Requirement as Albus entered.

"There are matters more important than our search," Albus replied without much forethought.

The lights surrounding Gellert brightened as the Room followed his slight change of mood. He looked up from his map - a meticulously plotted, vividly shaded art piece detailed with notes. Then he raised his eyebrows challengingly. "Oh?" He responded, his quill no longer moving across the page.

Albus shook his head, knowing how Gellert despised his other priorities. "I was occupied." He dumped his bag onto a nearby table, noticing the neatly stacked books detailing dark magic that Gellert had somehow acquired. There was a whimpering hedgehog pinned to the table that looked to be under constant torture. The hedgehog could have been one of Minerva's missing supplies. Albus made no comment on the peculiar objects of the room. Instead he looked back at the blond-haired man. "How are you? You weren't at Professor Merrythought's lesson. I was worried."

"Unamused and getting increasingly impatient." Gellert rounded the corner and appeared before him, standing almost as tall as Albus in his feat of intimidation. "Is it that McFarland girl?"

Albus did not answer.

"Or should I say Marie?"

Astonishment washed over the auburn-haired man. Immediately he demanded, "How did you-"

Gellert snorted. "I'm not blind, you know. Black hair, green eyes, white skin, thin face and body... It doesn't take me long to put two and two together."

Yet Albus knew it could not have been that easy. No one around them had realized anything yet. He could tell if they did. Simply because no one had been suspecting it to begin with. It was not every day that a professor transformed into a student for fun. "You were eavesdropping."

Gellert made a face of disgust. "No, I wouldn't stoop so low. Let's just say we had similar intentions in roaming Swoopstikes's cupboard."

"... what have you been up to?" Albus asked cautiously.

"Nothing extraordinary. Just keeping flasks up my sleeve in case I need them."

"And on the grander scale?"

"Tracking the Elder Wand, of course."

Albus sighed. Of course. Gellert had been asking for his involvement since September. There was nothing more pressing in Gellert's mind. The Elder Wand. His ultimate companion. His means to conquer, to rule, to acquire an army, and to start a revolution. "Anything I can help?"

"Why, I was waiting for you to ask, Dumbledore. Took you so long I thought you've forgotten our objective," Gellert said in mock appreciation. "Perhaps you ought not spend so much time in the Hospital Wing tending to our young Professor."

"Gellert-" Albus warned.

"Getting all defensive now?" Gellert mocked. "I would advise you not to fall in love with her, but I think it's too late for my advice to sink in."

Albus remained silent. From where Gellert stood, he could not accurately make out Albus's expression, but he was not interested enough to step out again for the sole purpose of mocking him. Gellert cleared his throat and announced, "I am moderately interested in a clue… bearing the name of Mykew Gregorovitch."

"The wandmaker?" Albus sounded genuinely curious.

"Yes." Gellert smirked. He brandished his wand and ran his finger along its length absently, immersed in a momentary illusion that he held the most powerful wand ever made. "Until we confirm that he is truly in possession of the Elder Wand, I do not wish to get a reputation or to give a forewarning."

"I assume you have already concocted a strategy."

"Simple, really. We should blend in… best with equally interested students who are keen to cause a racket. All we need is a distraction. The rest can be done by a handful of protective charms." Gellert drawled. "The trip to Hogsmeade this weekend, Dumbledore."

"But Gregorovitch's British branch is in London."

Gellert snorted at Albus pointing out the obvious. "That's where you come in. Tell Marie to change our destination to Carkitt Market."

"I can't do that." Albus frowned.

"I think you can. After all," Gellert smirked. "You two do have an extraordinary relationship."


Research and planning aided them in finding Gregorovitch's storeroom without unforeseen complications. They were up in two minutes. Gellert sealed the abutting corridors, whereas Albus locked the door and placed a silencing charm.

The room was enormous, compared to the misleading front. Though the ceiling was not charmed any taller, the ends seemed to stretch on forever. The wands were also wrapped in materials that diminished their qualities. It was no easy matter to tell which wand was which when one was not Mykew Gregorovitch himself. They had no choice but to unwrap every case to reveal the wand inside. Defeated, but challenged, the boys set to work, toppling the racks over as the wands fell in a loud clatter.

"Not this column." Gellert commented, his eyes scanning the objects scattered on the ground. "Next."

Albus nodded in agreement. He waved his wand and the next rack fell over. This time the rack fell slower, and a few wands remained in their cases despite his charm. When the third rack fell over, the delay and his charm's ineffectiveness became more noticeable.

"Losing your touch, Dumbledore?" Gellert asked dryly.

"Hm," Albus started inspecting the cases that remained unopened. "It seems that the better wands are resisting my charms. They can tell I'm not their rightful owner."

"You seem to find the matter more interesting than not." Gellert said, obviously not understanding his partner's amusement in this situation.

"Why yes, what better way to distinguish good wands from the average?"

"Except we're not searching for good wands, we're searching for the best." Gellert pointed his wand to an unopened case sitting nearer to his side. To his annoyance, it did not open. He frowned, levitating the case to himself. When he removed the top, he could sense that the wand was a notch more powerful than the ones that were readily scattered. But it was not the one he wanted. "Even levitation is getting difficult. They mean for us to open them by hand, one by one. We have no time."

"We don't know its length or material, do we?"

"No, not for certain," The scowl on Gellert's face deepened in irritation. He muttered, "You said its core could be thestral tail hair."

"Yes, but it gives us no visible clues. A detached thestral tail hair does not neigh."

"Neither does hair attached to a horse bum, if you ask me," Gellert grumbled.

Albus chuckled lightly. He was indeed taking the situation in with significantly more amusement than Gellert. After all, he had no real use for the Elder Wand. "A Summoning Charm, perhaps?"

"Don't be daft," Gellert snapped.

"Accio Elder Wand," Albus whispered. Nothing came forth.

"I would be doing the same thing in my Common Room if that worked," Gellert snorted.

Albus clucked his tongue, "It was worth a try."

"The wand of invincibility, Dumbledore. You cannot overcome it with simple magic."

"A Summoning Charm can be most useful at times," Albus pointed out.

Gellert had already crouched down to open another case. "I'm not having this conversation."

"What clues are you following then?"

"Instinct," came Gellert's disinterested reply.

"Marvelous."

Gellert rolled his eyes. The auburn-haired man was quickly getting on his nerves. "Don't pretend you can't sense artifacts encompassing strong magic. Just shut up and keep searching."

They toppled another twenty racks without exchanging a word, while scrambling down to open the cases that remained closed. Some needed an unlocking charm, others resisted their levitation. The effort was much more tedious than what they had previously expected. Nevertheless, the protective measures Gregorovitch had adopted gave them hope that the wandmaker was indeed in possession of the Elder Wand as he claimed to be.

Without noting exactly how many minutes had passed, Albus said, "Our classmates aren't going to keep him out for long. They aren't that interested in wands."

Gellert let out a grunt. "Bless their disinterest, they will never possess the best of them."

It was then that Albus thought he heard something. He had charmed the corridors to amplify any sound that came about, but even then he had only heard very soft footsteps. It could be a small animal. Gellert made no indication that he had heard anything.

"Did you ward the corridors?" Albus asked cautiously. He did not mean to express distrust in his partner, after all, he knew Gellert was bound to take it the wrong way.

"More times than I can count." Gellert's response was reasonably gruff.

Maybe it was his own imagination.

They continued searching in silence. Eventually they came to the first rack that would not topple, despite Albus's best efforts. They started levitating themselves instead, uncovering the wands one by one and throwing them onto the ground when they were finished inspecting.

At some point, Albus broke the silence. "We've agreed, yes?" His hands did not stop working.

"Agreed on what-?" Gellert turned, and saw the unusually grim expression on Albus's face. "Yes," he grunted, "Find me the Elder Wand, and I'll find you the Resurrection Stone."

"Good."

Albus hurled the last wand on his side to the ground and levitated himself back down. He was about to head onto the next rack when a familiar voice interrupted them from behind.

"Looking for something?"

They both turned immediately, Albus's eyes widening in surprise and Gellert's narrowing into slits. Minerva was standing not far behind them. The effects of Albus's Youth Potion were no more. She was again the stern, formidable professor, donning a pointed hat and emerald teaching robes. She stood, arms crossed, waiting for an answer. The door remained closed but somehow she had managed to sneak in.

"...Professor," Albus finally uttered.

Gellert jumped off the rack, landing on the floor gracefully, and rose to his full height. "Marie." He addressed her with audible hostility.

"It's Professor Marie to both of you." She said dryly. "Should I call in the Magical Law Enforcement Squad? It would appear that you two are involved in a case of theft."

Gellert raised his wand without hesitation. "Obliviat-"

"Expelliarmus." At her command, his wand shot out of his hand, landing on top of the mountain of wands they had uncovered. Albus stood frozen as he watched the scene unfold.

Minerva maintained her composure for as long as the event had played out, but with one look at Albus, she paused. The hesitation that gripped her quickly evolved into a wave of perplexity. What was she doing? Why was she interfering? This was how history had played out - the boys were supposed to be searching for the Deathly Hallows. Yes, she was a teacher. She might be a dutiful one who, upon catching her students in the wrong, would step up to correct them and state their punishments. But ultimately, there was too much more at stake. It was not her place to interfere.

Outwardly, she stayed unforgiving. "You have committed a crime that guarantees expulsion." She paused thoughtfully. Albus blanched and Gellert's face changed several colors. The humiliation must weigh hard on young men of their brilliance and power, who thought themselves unbeatable. She continued quietly, "But I will be lenient this time, only because you have yet to leave this store in possession of that wand. Your attempts are bad enough. Two full weeks of detention for both of you. There is no chance that Gryffindor will be winning the House Cup this year, thanks to you, Mr. Dumbledore. As for you, Mr. Grindelwald, I will speak to Durmstrang's Headmaster in regards to your behavior." She would have written a letter to their parents, as was customary, but her mind clicked with a hint of pity that both boys were orphaned.

She disappeared from the storeroom before either boy could form a coherent response. Silently, Albus picked up Gellert's wand and handed it back to him. He snatched it with a growl. "I've had it with her!"

"She's a teacher." Albus said calmly. "She's doing her job."

Gellert grumbled something about hexing the woman into oblivion.

"Don't be rash," Albus warned absently. He started levitating the wands back into their respective case, then onto the racks. They were not resistant when they recognized that they were being returned to their rightful place. This task was much less taxing than their search.

"Hmph," Gellert huffed. He fell into silence, and stayed unmoving as Albus tidied the racks.

Albus glanced back in concern. Gellert was still standing idly by, seemingly deep in thought. "Are you all right?"

"You heard what she said, Dumbledore?"

Albus looked dumbfounded. "What?"

"That wand," Gellert repeated. "She said 'that wand'."

"It must have been a coincidence."

"You've heard it then!" Gellert hissed accusingly as Albus turned away again. "You've noticed."

"We were searching. It was plain enough to see."

"No, she knows. I don't know why, I don't know how- And I will not be pleased to think you have anything to do with her having an idea, but she knows."

"She couldn't have, Gellert."

Gellert started pacing back and forth, irritation and humiliation flooding all his rationality. This was not the first time she had crossed him, despite it being the most significant time yet. "She needs to be removed."

"She's not interfering." Albus protested in a louder voice.

"You say she's not?" Gellert said angrily. "Pray tell why you are levitating the wands back onto the racks instead of pulling them out. And please, Dumbledore, do enlighten me on your definition of interference, for I cannot understand your blatantly misused vocabulary."

"If she truly wanted to stop us, she wouldn't have warned us. One message to the Ministry of Magic and we'd be on our way to court."

Gellert's steps were quickly accelerating into exasperated stomps. "Who says she hasn't already alerted the Aurors? Who says she doesn't already have someone on our tail, someone reporting back to the Ministry? Which wizard doesn't want to get his hands on the Elder Wand?"

"It is but a fairy tale to everyone else. The Ministry does not care for some children looking for a plaything."

Nonetheless, Albus could understand Gellert's misapprehension. In his unquenched thirst for power, Gellert was starting to thrust his own desires, determination, and awareness onto others, seeing threat and competition in the most illogical of places. Albus was certain that most of his alleged threats were disbelievers of The Tale of the Three Brothers.

"But we both know it's real. It's somewhere out there, and I'd be a lot closer to finding it if it weren't for her."

"Her intrusion might have cut our search short today, but it doesn't mean we can't try again tomorrow."

"Not just this time, Dumbledore. All that time you have been spending on her, wasted! Imagine what we could have accomplished! Who tracked down the location of the Elder Wand, Dumbledore? Who outlined potential candidates for alliance? The places for training, the resources for practice, who did them all? The maps, the research-" Gellert's speech was laced with vehement fury. Then as if he had reached a peak of outrage, his voice turned dispassionate again. "This search would have ended weeks ago had you been contributing as I have."

Albus shook his head with finality. He tried to reason. "I don't want to argue with you, Gellert. You know I am as determined to find the Hallows as you are. But this search... It has been weighing unhealthily on you. I care for you and this change… this madness… is unsettling."

"I need you to aid me. When all this is over, you can flee and be with whomever you wish. Until then, I need your intelligence, your power. I need dedication." Gellert stated, his voice devoid of emotion. "When our plan is brought to fruition, I'll be as sane as sane can be, and you can stop fussing over whatever morals you have in mind."

He started packing the wands back into the racks in silence. Beside him, Albus was equally lost in contemplation. They finished their job and sneaked back downstairs. Gregorovitch was engrossed in counting his galleons as the boys slipped past with a disillusionment charm.


Minerva was hiding in a small carriageway when the boys emerged from the store. Both uttered the counter spell to remove their invisible cloak. They remained unnoticed by Gregorovitch up to the end.

A few moments ago, Minerva had been stalling Gregorovitch downstairs, buying time for the boys to tidy up their mess. When she felt their disillusioned presence nearing, she quickly excused herself and hid before either of them caught her lurking around. She caught them red-handed, then she saved them from discovery. Such a hopeless walking contradiction she was.

When Albus first asked her to arrange a trip to Carkitt Market, she knew they were onto Gregorovitch. What surprised her most was how soon the boys were onto the right cue. Nonetheless, the Elder Wand was not in London, but in Berlin.

On the day, she transformed into a cat and followed the group into the shop. Albus and Gellert sneaked up the staircase, unnoticed by Gregorovitch, who was busy bragging to the other students about his latest collection. Minerva stalled him twice by leaping in his way when he was going to obtain a particularly boast-worthy wand from his storerooms. Eventually the first group of customers left and Gregorovitch forgot about the wand he so wanted to obtain. She saw her chance when he went to fetch a cup of coffee. Quickly she climbed up the staircase and darted into the corridors.

Even without transforming back into a human, she could sense that the corridors were heavily warded. The boys did not ward the staircase in case Gregorovitch wanted to visit the washroom, but anywhere near the storeroom was not somewhere he would visit regularly in an hour. At least that was what they assumed - she snorted, knowing she had saved them twice from an untimely discovery. She took some time undoing the wards without harming herself. They were by no means ubiquitous, but they were very powerful. When she was certain that the corridors were open, she dashed in in her tabby form to the end of the hall. Gellert's wards were imperfect but powerful, whereas Albus's locking and silencing charms on the door were less injurious, but equally meticulous to solve. She managed eventually, for she had far too much experience not to.

"Looking for something?" She said then, upon entering the room. It was more of a mess than she expected. Mountains of wands were discarded on the floor. Even then, they were less than a quarter through.

Gellert's attempt to Obliviate her was instantly obvious. He might not be ready to kill, but she knew he had no hesitations in wiping out memories. She disarmed him readily. But when her eyes shifted to Albus, she remembered why she was not just a professor catching her students in the act of crime. She was more than that - she did not happen upon them, and it was not coincidence or wisdom that led her to them. It was knowledge - knowledge of the future. Knowledge that anyone of their time should not be privy to. Knowledge that precious and unique should not be taken advantage of lightly.

Minerva slowly slumped against the wall, until she sat on the muddy ground, unmoving, her robes drenched in a murky puddle of rainwater. Her agreement to change their trip from Hogsmeade to Carkitt Market was the saner part of her at work, but her interference was something else entirely taking over. Something instinctive, protective. She knew she interfered because she wanted to stop them, or stall them, at least. She wanted to warn them away from their impending future. After all, she was on a particularly sensitive spot on the timeline. Gellert Grindelwald was not yet the monster he had become. As for Albus, Ariana was still alive, and his relationship with Aberforth was not entirely unsalvageable. She wanted this moment to last.

At the back of her mind, she knew, however ridiculous the notion was, that she was falling in love again. It was no longer the giddy, childish crush of an eighteen year old. It was love that manifested in watchfulness and comfort and unconditional trust. But it was love nonetheless, and love was blind. She thought age and experience would have taught her enough, taught her at least to allow logic to prevail, but her momentary foolishness and selfishness had proved otherwise. It did not help that she cared less and less for the future, yet more and more for the present. She wanted nothing more than to save the boy she knew now, and damn the consequences.

Slowly she closed her eyes in dread, willing everything around her to fade away. Merlin help me, she thought. None of this was supposed to happen.


Author's Note: Sorry... Real life has been unforgiving lately...

Thanks Loki! Also... trust you to notice all the little details XD It's fun to juxtapose Albus and Gellert, especially their behavior at school (though I must have gotten it wrong - since Albus would always stay the model student and Gellert got expelled).

Oooh.. another hug for uma ramrup! You didn't see it coming?! Well, yay! I thought the youth potion part was too obvious and was trying to tone it down X) I almost wanted them to get caught... Albus has to pay somehow. Bad Albus.

Ah Professor, sorry for the long wait :x I'm glad you enjoyed Albus's prank! He needs to be taught a lesson though. Ah.. Gellert's involvement is a tricky subject. I'm very happy to know that you can accept the less explicit ADGG going on in an ADMM fic, as generally Albus is bisexual in my works, be it in the distant past or the present. I've sort of braced myself for some bashing regarding that, so I'm really glad to know that's fine with you.