Chapter 7: I Know Something You Don't Know:

Getting out of the forest was as hard as getting in, when McGonagall finally saw the faint lights of the castle she practically ran to the edge of the depressing place. Thanking Hagrid and making t

Her was back to the castle she began then realise how tiered she was. When she got to Dumbledore and her privet rooms she slipped into the warm bed with a comforted sigh. As she drifted off to sleep she felt a soft kiss on her forehead and heard a deep voice wishing her a good night, but before she could distinguish reality from dream, she was asleep. McGonagall's dreams were haunted with faces of witches and wizards, contorted in pain, dieing slowly, watching their own blood dipping down their bodies and staining their clothes. Dreams of Albus Dumbledore, her husband, the man she loved, being tortured to death. She woke with a star tears running down her face. She sat up in their bed, alone, without her love's arms to hold her as she cried. Then she thought of the package Dumbledore had left for her. She got out of bed and took it off of the dressing table. It wasn't heavy, but it was big, she sat down and slowly tore off the paper around it. Sitting on her lap was a mirror, golden and studded with emeralds green as the Scottish witches breath taking eyes, attached to it was a note:

"Albus Dumbledore."

"Albus Dumbledore." She read out loud, she stared as the glass of the mirror clouded over.

"Oh, my!" The glass was clearing to reveal an old man, his wrinkled face smiling slightly. He shook his long white hair away from his eyes and pushed his waist length beard over his shoulder. Albus Dumbledore winked at his wife,

"I love you, Minerva." He whispered. The fog came back clouding the mirror once more.

"NO! ALBUS! DON'T GO! PLEEASE DNT LEAVE ME AGIN!!" McGonagall begged desperately as his face faded from view, this time, when the glass cleared, it was only her own tear stained face desperate and heart broken, looking back at her.

"Albus Dumbledore… Albus Dumbledore!" Nothing. The reflection didn't change and McGonagall closed her eyes and concentrated hard on his face. His twinkling blue eyes, his deep voice. His words: I love you. She could hear him in her head. How could he just leave her again like that? She felt a sudden urge to throw the mirror as hard and as far as she could, but she didn't. Albus, she thought, you are alive, aren't you.

"Minerva!" McGonagall opened her eyes sleepily. It was morning, six thirty AM to be exact.

"Professor Minerva! Wakey wakey!" The annoying chanting of her name was coming from the ceiling of her room. Rolling over Mcgonagall glared up into the black beams.

"Peeves!" She sighed exasperatedly. "What do you want?!" She snapped at the poltergeist who stopped his silly chanting of "Wakey wakey, risey shiny!" and turned to face her (meaning her turned completely upside down and floated so that he was only a few centimetres away from the Professors face)

"I know something you don't know doo daa doo daa I know something you don't know o' dee doo daaa dayyy!" He sang.

"For goodness sake! I don't have time for this!" McGonagall sat up and, pushing right through the pesky peeves, got out of her bed and stomped to the wardrobe. She wasn't usually this bad tempered in the morning… in fact she found the song of the birds and the soft morning glow of the sun quite lovely, but there was something about being woken up by peeves at stupid-o'clock in the morning that made her want to take a run and jump right out of the castle windows!

"I know something you don't kn-"

"PEEVES!" She shouted cutting off his ridiculous song "If you are not going to tell me what practically it is you know that I do not then kindly get out of my room so I can get dressed."

"It's a secret" He flicked the light switch on and off on and off. McGonagall sighed, "A secret… a big secret… about Dumberlydoor!" McGonagall snapped to attention.

"Dumbledore? A secret?!" Peeves somersaulted round to room cackling madly.

"Oooooh" He hissed on between bouts of insane laughter. "Miss Professor is interested now, aren't you?" He shouted gleefully. "If only you knew… but, seeing as you're so desperate for me to leave…"

"No!" McGonagall jumped as he flew for the door. "What is it? What do you know that I don't!?" Peeves turned around slowly, a mischievous smile playing on is joker face.

"It'll cost you! What's in it for me?" McGonagall was loosing her patience again.

"Peeves. If you do not tell me then I shall go up to the astronomy tower, find the Bloody Baron and-"

"I've seen him!" Peeves said quickly. "Saw him in the kitchens with the house elves, didn't I." McGonagall opened her eyes wide as she processed this information, then, faster that she's ever moved before, she grabbed her wand, waved it in front of her, her night dress transformed into long flowing Emerald robes.

"When? How long ago did you see him?" She asked waving her wand over her hair.

"About five minuets ago." McGonagall ran out of her bedroom door, her long black hair arranging it's self into a tight bun at the back of her neck. She ran at full speed down the stone steps (hoping all the while that they wouldn't change) pas her classroom right down into the basements where the kitchens were kept. She pushed open the hidden door and skidded into the room. A hundred house elves jumped out of her way as she stopped in front of the ovens.

"Professor Mcgonagall!" squeaked a little house elf dressed in brightly knitted cloths.

"Dobby! Is it true? Was her here? Was Professor Dumbledore Here?!" Dobby bit his lip and shook his head like and elephant with flees.

"Dobby! Tell me!" McGonagall ordered, the elf stopped shaking his head

"Dobby mustn't. Not aloud to tell! Dobby will be sent away!"

"No, no Dobby. You can tell me Ok only me, nothing will happen to you I promise. Was he here?! Dobby's wrinkled head shook from side to side slowly, his eyes wide, staring over McGonagall's shoulders airing intently at something… or someone. Turning, ever so slowly, she found her self, at last, face-to-face with a tall man, long hair and white beard thrown over his shoulder.

"Albus!" For a moment a feeling of joy that she'd never felt before came over her, but it was pushed aside quickly by a feeling of dread, fear that nobody should ever endure. "ALBUS!" He was slumped on the floor, pale, with his blackened hand, withered and dead in his lap. At the sound of his name, he looked up, McGonagall gasped at the gashes on his wise old face and the blood congealed in his beard, turning it to a dirty copper red. He opened his mouth to speck but all that he could manage was a slow painful breath. McGonagall stood, frozen still, watching as he struggled to lit himself from the floor. She roused herself and stepped forwards, wrapped her arm around him and helped him to his feet.

"Min." he groaned.

"Shhh, I'm here… we'll get you to Poppy, she'll help-" Albus lifted a shaking finger to silence his wife.

"Hagrid's cabin. Chantille is waiting. Let her… help." His voice, lower that the quietist whisper, sent shivers of terror down her spine.

"Ok, Hagrid's cabin." She shifted Dumbledore's weight onto her hip, he was too heavy for her to carry, and someone would be sure to see him if her limp through the castle. Same if they flew. McGonagall looked around her at the little house elves. House elves. Apperation. It was their only option.

"Albus? I need you to take the charms off of the castle. We need to be able to apperate." Albus nodded. He pulled his wand out from his cloak and began mumbling complicated enchantments in latin and greek, a moment passes, and then he was finished.

"Hagrids cabbin." he was doubled over in McGonagall's armes and groaning, almost unable to breath. McGonagall nodded and concentrated with all her might. Holding tight to Dumbledore she twisted around, pulling his weak body with her. Bands tightened around her chest , a horrible, dizzy feeling came over her as she fought to get air into her starvig lungs, she held the image of Hagrid's cabbin in her mind and then, it was over.

"Stay here." She gaspt as the cold night air filled her lungs once more. She sat Dumbledore down on the cool stone steps and banged on Hagrid's door. It swung open at once and McGonagall was pulled inside, Hagrid pushed past her and scooped Dumbledore up into his arms and carried him through the door, slamming it shut behind him.

The curtins in the house were drawn and a fire blazed brightly next to the huge table. Fang lay sleeping in the corner, only his face visible in the orange glow. Opposite the table on the othersiede of the fire, was an enormous sofa and two huge arm chairs, it was on the former that Hagrid now lay a broken Dumbledore.

McGonagall looked around the room, searching for whoever had pulled her inside. As she looked she saw crystal blue eyes staring at her from the shadows. The eyes had horizontal slits for pupils. McGonagall recognized them as cat's eyes, a big cat for the eyes were almost waist height on her. She stepped backwards, as she did so the eyes advanced on her and a cat appeared, large and white, from the shadows. The fire reflected in its slit pupils, the orange flames surrounded by ocean blue. The cat bowed its beautiful head; it was a snow leopard, its white coat shining in the firelight. McGonagall stood, unable to move as the leopard crouched down, raised it's long tail in the air and then, without warning, it pounced, flying ay McGonagall, claws out and teeth bared and sharp. The leopard growled and hissed, it landed on all fours pushing the old witch to the floor and scratching at her face and neck and torso, it's teeth ripping at her thick cloak until suddenly-

"ENOUGH!" Albus Dumbledore's voice, faint but commanding, echoed out into the room. The deadly leopard stopped. "Leave her alone." He commanded. The leopard retracted her claws, stepped gracefully off of McGonagall's bleeding body. Dumbledore sat up as straight as his wounds allowed. "Come here, Chantille." McGonagall gave a start as the leopard pounced once more, but this time she transformed. Her white fur became long golden hair, her slender form became that of a woman, her slit blue eyes, still shining, became human, until, stood in the centre of the room was Chantille LaBelle, eyes blazing with fury, hands trembling, at her uncle's side.

"You… you attacked me!" McGonagall couldn't hide her shock. LaBelle turned away form her, her eyes on her uncle's bloody body.

"What 'appened, uncle? What did zis to you?" She pushed Dumbledore's beard over his shoulder to keep it away from the blood.

"I cannot tell you, Chantille. I think you owe Minerva an apology." His voice drifted, his eyes closed, his skin was grey and the twinkle gone from his eyes. LaBelle reached into her black and pink robes and pulled out a wand. The wand was thin and made from crystal; it reflected the orange of the flames. She pushed the tip of it to Dumbledore's deepest wound. It heeled. The blood stopped. Then it re-appeared even deeper than before and the blood flowed darker and faster. Hagrid and McGonagall watched in horror as Fang, who'd woken up when LaBelle had attacked, lollopped lazily forward and started lapping nosily at the bloody that continued to splash onto the cobbled floor. McGonagall reached out and took the dog by the collar and with an enormous effort pulled it away.

"FANG" rumbled Hagrid, "BED." The dog hung its head and stalked off to its bed by the fire.

LaBelle was mumbling under her breath, the wand tip glowed first pink, then blue, then red. Each time the gash heeled, the blood stopped. Each time it opened again, deeper, bleed more profoundly. After ten minuets of this LaBelle swore loudly in French and spun on her heal to face McGonagall.

"You," her eyes blazed in frustration, "You must know 'ow zis 'appened. 'Oo did zis to 'im!? What did zis to 'im!?" McGonagall took a step back her head held high, she would not let herself be intimidated by a witch 30 years her junior!

"If I'd known how my husband got like this then I would have treated him myself, not brought him out in the freezing cold to see you." She scolded as though talking to a student. She look closely at Dumbledore's limp body, thought of his frail voice. "Can you help him?" LaBelle pulled a chair towards the sofa and sat carefully.

"I don't know. Zis is complicated, I'm trying." McGonagall sighed and reached out to stroke her husband snowy white hair.

"Thank you." she whispered

"I'm not doing it for you."

"I know."