Apologies - for some reason this took an astronomical amount of time to write up. Many thanks for all the reviews, it is very much appreciated. This was meant to incorporate the first flying lesson as well but that shall have to come next...
Chapter 9: Regrets and Responsibilities
"What have you done with the Dursley's?"
I had been called up to Albus' office on some spurious excuse regarding the new Prefects so had no doubt that this meeting would have something to do with Potter. Albus doesn't become involved in reviewing the Prefects until close to the end of year when we are looking for a Head Boy and Head Girl. As soon as I entered the room I was certain that my assumption was not incorrect. It's rare to see our esteemed Headmaster lose control of his emotions, but he is dangerously close now.
I school my face into something resembling confused exasperation.
"What are you talking about, Albus?" I deliberately don't quite look Albus in the eye; not far off, close enough to seem accidental but giving him the opportunity to take that last meeting with Amelia and Severus does not seem wise. "I have had no contact with Mister Potter's relatives. My role was to ensure the legal aspects of removing him from that house were set in motion. The only person who would have gone to see them would be Amelia Bones."
I wait patiently. Albus is pacing around his office looking thunderous.
"I very much doubt that an entire muggle family disappearing without a trace or explanation has anything to do with the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, Minerva."
"They've disappeared?" It's a good job I never asked Severus what he was going to do, it's an accepted fact that I am a horrendous liar. The skills which Severus learned by necessity and Albus by instinct are not natural to me; I tell it like it is and that's the way I'll continue to be.
"You didn't know?" He looks at me speculatively before sighing heavily and sitting down. Steepling his fingers together carefully on the desk he looks at me seriously over those half-moon spectacles of his before speaking again. "You promise me, Minerva. You don't know?"
"I have no idea," I respond more or less honestly. I might have an idea about who is behind this mysterious disappearance but no more than a guess I tell myself. "Albus, you know me better than that."
He looks at me again with that speculative gaze before dropping his eyes to the table.
"I'm unsure how well I know anyone any more, Minerva," he says heavily. I can't help quirking my eyebrows slightly; Albus doesn't know who he can trust anymore? To steal a marvellous muggle phrase, now that's the cat calling the kettle black. How does he think the rest of us caught up in this mess feel? "You, Filius, even Severus…" he trails off dejectedly.
"Albus, that is exactly how we are feeling," I say gently. "We trusted you, we have always trusted you."
"I only wanted to do what was best for the boy, I just wanted him to be safe." There's no twinkle in those bright blue eyes and he sounds completely sincere. I just wish I could believe him. "Petunia sealed the blood wards. I knew he wouldn't be in the happiest of families, but I thought he'd be fine. He was safe."
"Except he wasn't, was he, Albus?" Even if he is genuinely regretting how Potter was treated, it is still ten years too late. "You failed him, Albus. You failed him, you failed me, you failed all of us. We trusted you." My voice cracks without my permission. "God damnit Albus, I've failed him. I failed him because I listened to you, believed you, trusted you. Lily would never forgive me." I look at him, the greatest wizard of all time, the leader of all that is light and I feel my heart breaking. "I don't think I can forgive you for that. I don't think I should."
I turn to walk towards the door but stop as I hear a faint choked sob from behind me, so soft that I almost missed it. If it hadn't been for my years of honing my hearing to catch the whispered asides from students, I probably would have missed it. I turn back, unwilling to believe what I am certain I've just heard, but my ears did not deceive me. Albus is standing facing towards his study, but the slight shake to his shoulders is unmistakable. The man I would have followed to death and beyond, the rock of my existence is crying.
"Albus…" I say softly.
His shoulders straighten and I can sense rather than see the effort it takes to steady himself.
"I believe you have made your views perfectly clear, Minerva" His tone is controlled, even harsh, but the decades I have spent walking at Albus' side allow me to hear how flat he sounds, how tired. "I believe that you missed your cue to leave."
It would be so easy to walk out of that door right now, so easy to leave the meddling fool to whatever is preying on his mind. It's not as if he doesn't deserve it. It's not even as if I give a rotten fig about those abusive muggles or what might have befallen them. But in conscience, I cannot. I have stood by this man's side too long to do that.
I was by his side through the dark days of Grindelwald and the even darker days of You-Know-Who. I watched him wrestle with his conscience over Grindelwald, how he dithered and fretted because of their childhood friendship, how he very nearly let his emotions win. I watched him make one of the hardest decisions of his life and stand by it. I witnessed his stoic grief as we lost friends, family, colleagues, and allies in the last war and how his strength and compassion kept us standing strong no matter how great the loss. I saw his obvious grief and guilt at the death of Lily and James, his honest and true sorrow as the death toll mounted day after day after day with no end in sight. I can attest to his pure consternation over the fate of Alice and Frank Longbottom as well as the long nights he spent trying to find some way to reverse the damage.
I was by his side then and throughout everything the man in front of me was my rock, my foundation, my strength. I never doubted him. Now? I'm disillusioned and wary but I cannot turn my back on the one man who has been the centre of my very world. I cannot walk away from such a history without a backwards glance. To do so would be to go against the very nature of the universe. And despite everything, my chest is tight and thoughts flying because through all these years, all the dark days and the horror, I have never seen Albus cry. I have seen him guilt-ridden, I have seen him grieving. I have certainly seen him angry and even vengeful. But I have never seen him breaking. He has been wounded, threatened and assaulted on all sides, he has lost close friends on a daily basis and shouldered the burden of being the one everyone looked to and trusted yet always stayed strong. Now I am faced with an old friend, the rock to so many of us…crying.
"Albus…" I say again, so softly that it's barely audible as I walk slowly forwards. "Albus…I…" I stop hesitantly.
He turns to face me and although I had expected it, the tears glistening in those blue eyes still shocks me right down to my core.
"I said you can go now, Professor. You have made your feelings clear."
He looks so old, so tired, so weary. But at the same time something about him reminds me of the very children I teach when they have reached the limit of what they can cope with. As he sits heavily in the chair I can't help but notice a stray tear falling down his cheek.
"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," I snap. "If you think I'm leaving you like this you have another thing coming."
Albus doesn't look up as he responds and once again I am struck by how lifeless his voice sounds. How desolate.
"I did what I thought was right," I hold in a snort. "I only wanted to protect the child…"
He sounds somewhat like a broken record but the pain in his face is so evident there is no way on this earth that I'd point that out to him. There's no way I can leave. I have no option other than to simply stand and listen.
"I didn't want him growing up with the inflated ego that so many magical families would have given him. The boy would have been revered and spoilt for something he would never remember doing. He'd never have known a normal childhood." I desperately want to point out that he didn't have a normal childhood anyway, just for very different reasons but hold my tongue. "But more than that, I knew that half of Voldemort's followers wouldn't go to Azkaban and they'd be furious at the loss of their Dark Lord. They'd want revenge and the only way to get revenge would be on a child who had no idea how much chaos he had just caused. He wouldn't have survived the week."
Albus stops speaking and looks directly at me for the first time since he turned around and once again I am shocked by how weary he looks.
"I did what I thought best," he sighs. "And in case I was wrong I stationed Arabella Fig to keep an eye on the boy over the years."
"And she never reported anything back to you those ten years," I raise my eyebrows sardonically. "She never mentioned that he was getting beaten on a daily basis? Or that he had to live in a cupboard? Maybe that he was malnourished to the point of near death? Or even that he believed himself to be a freak, unworthy of love or attention, unworthy to even eat without express permission, unworthy to go to the toilet?" My voice is rising without even trying. "A freak, Albus. Not even worthy of the title 'human'."
The flinch Albus gives is unmistakable and I can't help feeling a vague sense of satisfaction flow through me. There's complete silence in the room as I wait patiently for a response, I watch Albus carefully as he struggles to keep himself together.
"She didn't say that," he finally concedes.
"So what did she say, Albus? What did she tell you? Did she tell you about the broken bones or the concussions? Did she mention the fear and the nights alone? Did she bother to let you know that she was living next to a hurting, terrified little boy who thought his parents had died in a car crash?"
The look of shock on his face equals the anger that is a rising tide in my chest, barely being kept under control by the rigid self-control I pride myself so strongly on.
"Did she tell you, Albus? And if she didn't, did you bother to ask?"
I leave the room without looking back at Albus but I stop at the door.
"I don't know what's happened to the Dursleys, but you'd better hope they have gone a long, long way from here because with the Gods as my witness I will not hold myself responsible for my actions if I get my hands on them."
If I don't leave now there is no chance that I will be able to keep a handle on my frayed temper. It's a good job that Potter has now been let out of the Hospital Wing as at least that is a weight off my mind, but I'm more shaken than I have been in all of my many years of working at Albus' side. He seemed honestly distraught, but whether that is due to the trust and respect he has lost or the state of the boy, I don't know.
Poppy has even given reluctant permission for Potter to join in with the flying lessons providing he takes it easy and doesn't over exert himself. He's on the mend although it is going to take quite a while longer before his attitude starts to change; trying to get the boy to answer questions or speak out in class is like getting blood from a stone. It's clear he's listening to everything that is said, he takes detailed notes and ensures that all of his assignments are handed in on time, no member of staff can complain about his work. He's just so shy it's painful to watch, he's desperate not to bring attention to himself.
I'm more grateful than ever for the Weasley boy. Potter appears to have decided to stick to him like glue; where one goes the other is right behind. Had it been me, my temper would have been getting frayed by now with the constant lack of solitude or personal space but I guess growing up with six siblings' leaves you rather oblivious to that kind of attitude. In fact the newest addition to our red-headed clan seems to revel in it; Potter's dependency on him has given him a chance to shine regardless of how many older brothers are vying for attention. It would not surprise me if those two are soon closer than brothers themselves.
Now I just need to try to find a way to make Miss Granger fit in. A Gryffindor with the head of a Ravenclaw without a doubt; it wouldn't surprise me if she'd digested every textbook before she got here. She can spit out textbook answers without hesitation or issue but doesn't appear to have the same genius in making friends or any form of social abilities for that matter. If anything her never ceasing keenness and constantly waving arm is gaining her the irritation and frustration of her peers.
I've got an easier job than Severus though. He's got an entire clan of Death Eater kids this year.
No, I don't envy him that.
