-Chapter 9-

Guessing Truth

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, and young Charles McGonagall made their way down the empty hallway. Every once and a while a student would appear and Charles would simply slip behind the headmaster's large robes. If any of the students had seen him; they hadn't said anything.

"Here we are, Mattie. Now would you happen to know your aunt's password?" Charles looked up at the Forbidden Door and swallowed hard. Not only did he not now the password; but he had not even known that there was a password.

"No." He mumbled, still angry about what had happened up in the office. The Headmaster and the students of Hogwarts got his mother all day long; he only got her when she read to him or played with him at night. It wasn't fair.

"Well, then. I guess we'll just have to try to think of something she might use as a password." Charles nodded at the man's logic. Must as he hated to admit it; the man was smart.

"It might be Ginger Snaps, she likes those." Charles ventured. The Headmaster shook his head.

"No, she is not like me. Minerva would pick something that no one would guess that easily. How about listing off your mother and father's names?"

Charles said nothing as the Headmaster bent down to face him. He felt guilty for being angry with the man; as he had nothing but kind to him. He wasn't used to people in general; his mother was nothing like Dumbledore and Yinny wasn't really the example of most of the human race. They were the only people he had ever done anything with till today.

"Is something wrong, Mattie?" Dumbledore asked, seriously. Charles looked up from the floor to see his eyes fixed on him. The twinkle that seemed to bring certain cheerfulness to the man was gone; replaced by a firm yet gentle purpose. The Headmaster was a man who was easily thought of as a crazy old man who had an obsession with lemon drops; yet beneath the twinkling eyes and eccentricness, he had a deeper quality.

"I'm not sure." Charles muttered, truthfully.

He wanted to tell the man everything. His desire to see the unknown that had always loomed on the other side of the forbidden door. His disobedience to his mother by trying to exit the room; and the guilt he had felt after being caught. His boredom from having nothing to do all morning and the excitement he had experienced after seeing the boy wave to him from the lake. His confusion at why he was never allowed to do certain things and finally he wanted to beg the man for answers to his many unasked questions. But he couldn't.

Dumbledore laid a large hand on his shoulder and tilted his chin up to face him again.

"What aren't you sure about?" The question was one of those questions that few know the answer to. What was he not sure about? Life in general; or just his life in general?

"I just don't know the password." He lied. Dumbledore smiled and the twinkle returned to his blue eyes.

"Well, you needn't worry about that. We'll come up with it sooner or later." Dumbledore straightened and stared hard at the door.

"Try saying your parents' names."

"Charles McGonagall. Winifred May McGonagall." He said softly, repeating his aunt and uncle's names out loud as he had done in his head. The door did not open.

"Try your name." Dumbledore suggested. He was leaning against the wall now and munching on a lemon drop. Charles smiled as he took the offered candy and said his presumed name.

"Matthew John McGonagall." The door did not open.

For a brief while the two "men" stood by the closed door and happily munched on lemon drops trying to think of the password. Suddenly while he was swallowing his ninth lemon drop, Charles had it. His name would have made it to simple for him; so it had to be from one of the poems his mother read to him. His mother enjoyed My Heart's in the Highlands the best and would doubtlessly use that for a password. Only, he paused for a second to finish his tenth lemon drop and swallow it, she would have said it the way she read it to herself; in Scottish Gaelic.

"I think I've got it." Charles declared happily, tugging on Dumbledore's robe. The man smiled and nodded.

"I figured you would. Well?"

"It could be from my aunt's favorite poem, My Heart's in the Highlands. But I think it would be in Gaelic." Dumbledore blinked but said nothing.

"I presume you speak Gaelic?" He asked finally. Charles shrugged. He knew how to say some things such as I love you and Good night, but that was about it.

"Not really."

"Which part do you think it would from?"

"The first part."

Dumbledore nodded and smiled.

"Then I'll have to say it. Lemon drop?"

Charles took the eleventh lemon drop and stared at the man. He spoke Scottish Gaelic and knew My Heart's in the Highlands! What kind of a person was he?

Dumbledore began to mutter the Gaelic words to the door, fascinating Charles by how fluent he sounded. Finally he finished and both looked expectantly at the door, which did not open.

"Mac Horatio." Dumbledore muttered. The door opened and the Headmaster steered the shocked boy into the room and closed the door behind him.

Charles stared at the door with a shocked expression on his face. Translated 'mac' meant son and Horatio, well, that was his real first name. How had Dumbledore known that? A plop sounded behind him and Charles turned to see Yinny standing there with a tray of food.

"Its being time for supper for you, Master Charles." The house elf set the tray laden with fruit and a tasty looking supper down and looked expectantly at his young master.

"It looks fine, Yinny. Thank you."

"Will you being need anything else, Master Charles?" He shook his head.

The house elf slipped the tray out from underneath the food and vanished into thin air. Charles climbed onto the couch and tucked his chin under his folded arms. He was going to tell his mother what had happened that day.

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