"Taking so long"
Professor Dumbledore sighed heavily. He ran his cold hand over his face and squeezed the corners of his tired eyes.
It took him almost a week to catch up with all the work Armando Dippet had left him. The Headmaster was forced to take a leave of absence due to his recent health problems. It was Albus's duty, as the Deputy Headmaster, to take over all of his boss's responsibilities. Which wouldn't be half as bad, he bitterly noticed, had Armando informed him sooner of the huge pile of papers that was slowly building up on his shelf. Some of the documents were supposed to get signed and sent over a month ago. Working over hours in any free period of time he had left, Professor Dumbledore had finally managed to get the overdue job done. Now that the most urgent matters had already been dealt with, the Deputy could finally focus on more prosaic things. Like reading the mail.
A huge pile of unopened envelopes was waiting for him, lying peacefully on the far side of a mahogany desk. The Transfiguration Professor took the first one from the top, tore it on the side, and read its content. His brows frowned with impatience.
Another uneducated fool undermining Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration! Albus sighed again, this time even louder. He appreciated that there were still some people who didn't believe in everything they saw without question. Yet, in his opinion, one should receive at least a basic professional education before attempting to rewrite Gamp. The professor couldn't remember one person who did, tough. Still, every time he received this kind of correspondence, he was doing his best to put together a kind reply. After so many years, he was running out of ideas.
Before the wizard wrote the first paragraph, he heard a loud knock on the door. It was followed by a squeak of the hinges, but no footsteps. Which meant that whoever was trying to disturb him, didn't come in. When Dumbledore glanced at the entrance to his office, he saw one of his students standing at the threshold, holding to a door frame with one hand, and tilting inside.
"Hello, Professor," the girl greeted him. She looked around, apparently to check whether her teacher was alone. After a short pause, she added, "May I come in?"
Albus finished another sentence, afraid he might forget the perfectly worded response he'd been working on for several minutes. The attitude of his guest made the corners of his mouth twitch in amusement.
"Yes, you may, Minerva," said the Transfiguration Professor, waving his hand to make some room on the opposing chair. "Please, wait for a moment. I need to finish this."
The girl obediently took her usual seat. She watched carefully as Dumbledore wrote the final words and put his signature in the bottom corner.
"I wasn't expecting you so soon," said the professor, inserting a folded piece of parchment into a pre-addressed envelope.
"I didn't feel like staying in the Gryffindor Tower," bitterly admitted Minerva. Her posture, Albus noticed, expressed irritation and dejection. She was sitting low in the chair, with her arms crossed, and didn't look at her Head of House when either of them spoke.
"Rolanda took her first loss hard, I presume?"
The girl gave a loud snort, still not meeting her professor's questioning gaze.
"Yeah, you could say that."
Although it would be an understatement, thought Minerva. Almost like saying that Manticores don't make the best pets. Rolanda started yelling at everyone before the team even left the Quidditch pitch. And continued all the way back to the Gryffindor Tower. Minerva wasn't safe, neither in the common room, nor inside her own quarters. In a desperate attempt to free herself from Rolanda's company, the young witch pretended to be late for her meeting with Dumbledore. Even now, she would much rather sit and watch him answer all the letters than have a serious talk with her friend.
Having sensed that his student had no intention to dwell on the subject, Albus returned to his neglected correspondence. Minerva didn't want to distract him. With nothing better to do, she looked around her teacher's office. Over the last two years, she became familiar with this room more than any other - maybe except the dormitory. Still, she had no idea how most of these things worked or what purpose they served. A collection of silvery pots, metal objects appearing to be something between puzzles and Egyptian pyramids, or a colourful globe with numerous Saturn-like rings couldn't be there solely for decorative purposes. For a short time, the young witch pondered on the appropriateness of storing all those precious things in the room often visited by students. They could break something, after all.
Minerva's eyes landed back on the professor. It didn't escape her notice that, instead of getting ready to leave, he was busy with another letter. Raising her eyebrows in a meaningful way, she asked,
"Maybe I should come back in an hour? You have a lot of work, and I don't want to disturb."
Professor Dumbledore seemed startled, as though he'd forgotten for a moment that he had company. He took his eyes off the letter with difficulty.
"No, you shouldn't," he replied slowly, putting it back on the desktop. "There is nothing else in here that requires my immediate attention."
Without another word, he went out to the corridor and Minerva followed.
When they entered the dusty classroom on the second floor, Albus took his usual pose. He sat on the edge of the teacher's desk, his arms folded, and legs stretched out in front of him. It might seem that the wizard was fully relaxed and couldn't care less. But this was just an appearance, the young witch knew that from experience. Whenever there was something slightly wrong, he reacted in an instant.
"Alright," stated Dumbledore, seeing Minerva draw her wand, ready to cast on command. "Show me what you've got."
The young Gryffindor took a deep breath. She closed her eyes for a split second to fully visualise her happy memory. The moment she reopened them, she shouted,
"Expecto Patronum!"
A bright beam of silvery light erupted from the tip of her wand. It looked as if a miniature star simply materialized in front of her. But then, it began to change. The initially shapeless form slowly grew in size and complexity. Just before the Transfiguration Professor was able to recognize its shape, it had vanished.
"Minerva? What is it?" asked Professor Dumbledore.
His face was no more than few inches away, yet Minerva heard him as though he was standing on the other side of a thick glass wall. His voice was tense. She didn't remember why he was standing right next to her, or how he got there in the first place. The teacher put his hand on the girl's elbow in order to support her. He felt that her legs were giving in to her weight. Not asking any more questions, Albus walked his student to the nearest bench and forced her to sit down. She didn't resist.
After a moment or two, the girl looked up at the professor, evidently confused.
"Better?" he asked, attempting to produce a smile.
"Better," repeated Minerva mechanically. "What happened?"
"You nearly succeeded in producing the Patronus," the Transfiguration Professor informed her. "Then you turned white and looked as if you were about to faint. Casting the spell must have exhausted you."
"What?" the girl's face changed from disoriented to disappointed. " But why? The previous week everything was fine!"
Professor Dumbledore's smirk was hard to miss. Especially with the addition of his icy piercing gaze.
"Have you even visited the Hospital Wing after the match was over?" he asked expectantly. The tone of his voice told Minerva that he already knew the answer.
"No," the girl sighed out, looking at her shaky hands. "Why would I?" she remarked. "There's nothing wrong with me."
"Nothing, except that you are underperforming during classes," Dumbledore noted, pulling something out of his pocket. "Take this," he said, handing Minerva a cup of hot tea that appeared out of nowhere.
"Wait," she ordered, summoning her bag with a flick of the wand. "I've brought something."
The girl took out a pair of boxed Chocolate Wands, a birthday present from Malcolm, and placed it on the bench.
"This is for you, sir."
Albus smiled, his eyes twinkling.
"Oh my, I haven't seen these in ages," he replied, lifting one up to have a better look. "Let me take… the oaken wand with a unicorn hair," the wizard read from the cardboard box before unwrapping the chocolate and breaking in into smaller pieces.
Minerva's eyes moved from Professor Dumbledore's face to the sweets and back again. She was apparently taken aback.
"They're both for you," she explained, her voice a little uncertain.
"Well, thank you, Minerva, but do let me share with you," said the teacher kindly, pushing the other wand back to his student. "It won't taste near as good if I'm forced to eat it alone."
Having run out of excuses, the young witch reached for the sweet. She ripped the package, the took a bite, and froze before chewing.
Two weeks ago, Minerva remembered, she was studying in the Gryffindor common room, together with Augusta and Rolanda. Malcolm's owl had delivered her birthday gift this morning, so she brought the sweets along to share with her friends.
"No, thanks, I'm on a diet," said her friends when Minerva offered them some. Shrugging her shoulders, the girl kept everything to herself. She was reading a book on antidotes, not paying attention to any of her surroundings, until Augusta elbowed her painfully in the ribs.
"What?" Minerva asked distractedly, not bothering to look up.
"Stop eating this… thing," whispered Augusta through gritted teeth.
"Listen," said Minerva in irritation, marking the line she was on with her finger. "I told you I don't mind you guys starving yourselves, I really don't. Do what you want. But leave me out of this! This is my birthday. And I like sweets."
"What are you talking about?" uttered Augusta, and it seemed that she had truly no idea. "Haven't you noticed? Half of the boys are making fun of you!"
"Me?" Minerva looked around, not even trying to be discrete. "Why? What did I do?"
Noticing Augusta's hesitance, Rolanda joined the discussion.
"Just… don't eat these in public, okay?"
Having this conversation in mind, Minerva felt suddenly embarrassed and highly uncomfortable. Even though her teacher did nothing to make her feel that way. The witch broke off another part of the chocolate. She put it in her mouth and somehow swallowed everything without choking. She drank the tea all at once.
"Everything alright?" asked Albus with care, witnessing Minerva's odd behaviour. She nodded, rubbing her watery eyes.
"You need to forget about today's game, Minerva," the Transfiguration Professor continued after a short while. "If you truly want to progress. Forget about me, this class, everything that is not a part of your happiest memory. It is not knowledge, skills, or practice that you're lacking. It's focus."
"Right," the girl replied, getting ready to resume the lesson. Professor Dumbledore stopped her with a single gesture.
"Give yourself ten more minutes, will you? I've had enough stressful situations for one day."
Ten minutes later, Minerva was once again standing in the middle of the classroom. With her eyes closed, she took a deep breath and did her best to empty her mind.
"Expecto Patronum!" she shouted, aiming straight-ahead.
This Patronus didn't look nearly as magnificent as the previous one. The young witch killed it with a single wand movement. She repeated the preparation process before casting another spell. A few more tries and there it was - a true corporeal Patronus!
Minerva was so excited. She still couldn't believe she finally did it.
"What is it?" asked the girl, her eyes transfixed on the misty bluish creature.
"I would say," replied Professor Dumbledore, crouching to pet the air over its little head, "it is a cat."
"A cat?" repeated Minerva. Her face sank. She was looking thoroughly disappointed.
"What, don't you like cats?" inquired Albus, lifting his brow a little.
"No, it's not that," the witch started to explain, lowering her wand. The Patronus disappeared. "I just wished I could turn into something big and powerful. You know, with claws, fangs, and everything."
"Cats do have claws and fangs, you know," he told her.
In response, she looked at him, as if he couldn't have said anything more inappropriate. The wizard ignored it. He got to his feet and folded his arms.
"Look," said the Transfiguration Professor, meeting his student's eyes. "You shouldn't measure anyone's power by their looks. The ability to conceal oneself, to move around inaudibly, by stealth, and attack from unawares may sometimes give you more advantage than pure strength and brutality."
Minerva wasn't convinced, but she surely was having second thoughts about her new guardian. The girl took out the nearest chair and sat on it. From excitement, she didn't notice how tired she was.
"I think this is it for today," stated Dumbledore in response to the young witch's repetitive yawns. "I want you to know that you did a splendid job. I am very proud of you."
Apparently, Minerva had a different opinion.
"I don't know, sir. Everything seems so simple now. I should have been able to cast Patronusses before the end of the summer term. I wish I did, I could have known so much more by now."
"Minerva?" interrupted Albus.
"Yes?"
"A simple thank you would suffice."
The girl's cheeks turned brick red.
"Well, then… thank you," she said awkwardly, not used to being praised. She needed to change the subject.
"Sir?" added Minerva after a moment of silence. "Could you give me the titles of my next read?"
The professor looked back at her, astonished. She surely didn't like taking any breaks.
"I don't reckon the titles themselves will help you much. You won't find them in the library. But don't worry," he reassured her, noticing her lips slightly part in disappointment. "I'll lend you the books from my private collection,"
"Could I walk you to your office and borrow them, then?" The teacher didn't respond, so Minerva added, "Please?"
Dumbledore sighed out loud. But he agreed either way.
Back in his office, the Transfiguration Professor walked slowly to one of the bookcases. From the top shelf he took off two thick, heavy volumes.
"In this book you'll find many useful hints concerning wandless magic. It might come in handy when you'll be learning how to transform yourself. This one, however, will explain to you the basics of Human Transfiguration. I would advise you to check it first," he explained to Minerva. She put the books on the bottom of her bag with care. "There is one more I'd like you to study, though. Where did I put it…?"
He looked around, scanning the titles. Minerva observed him from a step behind. She wondered why her teacher was in possession of rare academy textbooks on Animagi. He was not an Animagus, she was sure of that. His name didn't figure in the register. She was about to ask him when they both heard Henerick.
"Albus, someone is trying to reach you on your private line. He says you knew he would call."
The professor turned around and combed his fingers through his auburn hair.
"Yes. Right, I forgot. Would you excuse me for a few minutes, Minerva?"
"Yeah, sure," the girl said under his expectant look. "Go on, Professor."
She watched Dumbledore disappear into his private chambers. Having sat back in her chair, she stretched out her legs to let them rest. After the entire day of physical activities, Minerva didn't feel like standing without a particular reason. Looking blindly ahead, she wondered whether to let her eyelids close for a little while. As falling asleep during her professor's absence wouldn't be very polite, she decided against it.
The girl blinked several times to keep herself awake. After her sight focused, she realized that, for some time now, she was looking straight at Professor Dumbledore's letter. The one he was answering before they left his office a few hours ago. In the flow of words, Minerva noticed one that looked suspiciously like Grindelwald. She was nearly as surprised as she was excited. None of the teachers had ever talked with her about the situation in Europe. Dumbledore included. Yet, she had so many questions that were left unanswered. So many hopes and fears that couldn't be addressed. She was thrilled to know what was happening on the continent, whatever wasn't in the newspapers.
This was probably why she walked around the desk to read the words that weren't meant for her. Nervously checking the door every now and then, she began from the line above the word that riveted her attention.
"… your last letter. I find it hard to believe that a wizard like yourself could ever be friends with Gellert Grindelwald. I am certain you had your reasons. However justified might be your decision…"
What she read, shocked her. Dumbledore friends with Grindelwald?!
Before she had a chance to finish the sentence, Minerva caught the glimpse of the door to the professor's quarters being open. She jumped up, nearly dropping the bag she was holding. The girl composed herself rather quickly, pretending to be walking around the office for the whole time.
"Forgive me for taking so long," kindly apologized Albus, approaching the desk. Minerva's heart skipped a beat. She was thinking hard, whether she touched anything or left any signs at all. To her relief, the professor simply picked up a thick, hard-covered volume.
"There you go," he said, handing her A Comparative Anatomy of Vertebrates. Usually, she would express her astonishment at being given a Muggle book. This was not the time, though. "These should be enough for now. Please, try to return them in nearly the same condition.
"Oh, right. Thank you, sir," said Minerva, still a little distracted. "I think I'll be going."
Dumbledore's brows went up. He was surprised by the sudden change in his student's behaviour. Minutes ago, she was reluctant to leave, and now it looked like she was running away from him. Don't be ridiculous, he thought to himself. She was probably exhausted.
"Of course." He smiled at her. "I hope to see you soon."
Minerva nodded. She hurried to the exit. But the moment the young witch put her hand on the knob, she hesitated.
She needed answers.
Was Dumbledore really so close to Grindelwald? How did they meet? Were they still friends or had they roads parted? Who else knew about it? The girl knew that if she didn't bring up the subject now, she might never have an opportunity to do so. But how do you ask someone if they're friends with the most powerful dark wizard, Muggle-hater and a mass murderer?
She kept on walking.