Edmund Marchbanks, senior Auror, sat in a quiet corner of the Hog's Head with Dumbledore, discussing Grindelwald.
"He has to be stopped, Albus."
"I don't disagree."
"You have some knowledge of him and you are an exceedingly powerful wizard. We need you to act."
"I am a teacher, Edmund, I chose to teach, not to fight and I intend to stick to that."
"So think of your students."
"My students?"
"They will suffer, Albus, and some of them will die. Especially the muggleborns. You know he will kill or enslave them all."
"You have good Aurors."
"Yes I do. And all of my Aurors agree that your assistance would give us a distinct advantage. You can't simply opt out of the whole world, Albus. There must be people out there that you care about? That you would wish to protect? Help us to protect them."
Dumbledore sighed. "It would be temporary only."
"Of course."
"Teaching would still be my focus and the most important thing."
Marchbanks nodded, "This would just be providing a little assistance for the benefit of our world."
Dumbledore nodded slowly.
"If I must," he said. "He is believed to be somewhere in Europe…" His voice trailed off as he became aware of Dumbledore staring over his shoulder in the direction of the bar.
Marchbanks turned to look behind him, and then back at Dumbledore.
"Are you okay, Albus?"
"Yes," said Dumbledore shaking his head, "Forgive me, I – I was surprised to see someone…"
"Who?" Marchbanks turned again.
"Oh, nobody important for our purposes," Dumbledore said with a wave of his hand, "Just an old friend. Please go on, Edmund."
"Very well. As I said, he is believed to be somewhere in Europe. Probably to the east."
Dumbledore nodded, "There are some powerful forests there. We read of them together when we were younger and he was always interested by them."
"There is also a rumour – that he has managed to secure a wand of great power."
Dumbledore's expression changed. "That would be troubling indeed," he said.
"I took the liberty of obtaining this for you," said Marchbanks, pushing a heavy text across the table. Dumbledore lifted head and read the spine.
"Secrets of Wand Magic," he read.
"I borrowed it from Ollivander. I think you should study it, it may help with the plan."
Dumbledore nodded.
"And Albus, he knows now."
"Knows?"
"That there is a rumour you will defeat him. And I think he knows we have made contact with you. Albus, you must be careful and take care with those you love. Grindelwald is not averse to attacking his enemies through their hearts – look at what he did to the Bells last year. That whole family. If you give us details we can arrange protection."
Dumbledore's eyes flickered quickly to the bar, despite himself.
"I have only Aberforth," he replied. "And I don't think he will accept protection from anyone acting on my behalf."
Marchbanks nodded solemnly and rose to leave. The two men exchanged farewells and he left the pub. Dumbledore sat silently flicking through the pages of Secrets of Wand Magic.
He heard footsteps, and a hand reached to take the empty glasses.
"Hello, Professor."
"Hello, Minerva."
"Interesting book?"
"Quite interesting," he replied, closing the pages and giving little away. Her eyes flickered to the spine. Dumbledore moved his arm so his cloak covered the book.
"So you are working here at the moment, Minerva," he said, abruptly changing the subject. "What are your plans?"
"Plans?"
"You are a talented witch, you can't spend your whole life working in the Hog's Head. What do you intend to do?"
"I'm not sure."
"You must have dreams, ambitions?"
Minerva shook her head slowly. "I'm not sure, Sir."
"Well, you should think about it. I would be very disappointed not to see you make something of yourself."
"I'll think about it," she said softly, then added with a smile, "It would be good to have some advice as well."
"I'm sure plenty of people would be happy to advise you," Dumbledore assured her, "No doubt Headmaster Dippet would be very happy to assist you."
"That would be kind of him," she paused. "Maybe you and I could talk too, perhaps over a game of chess?"
"I'm very busy at the moment, I'm afraid I won't have the time."
"I can wait a while."
Dumbledore sighed, "I really am very busy, Minerva, and I will be for quite a long time. I'm sorry."
"No, its fine," Minerva shrugged, turning away from the table, "Good luck with everything."
"Thank you." Dumbledore laid his hand on her shoulder as he stood to leave. "Take care of yourself, Minerva."
Dumbledore left without a backward glance. Minerva watched him go, blinking back tears. Then she headed back past the bar.
"Is it okay if I take a few minutes?" she asked the barman. "And can I borrow Owl again?"
"Go on then."
"Thanks."
She raced up to her cupboard and grabbed parchment and quill. Quickly she scribbled a few letters, requesting a copy of Secrets of Wand Magic. She addressed the letters to various bookshops and Borgin and Burkes and then took them down to give to Owl.
"I saw Dumbledore," she told Tom, a couple of weeks later, over yet more butterbeer.
He looked momentarily anxious, "How did it go?"
"Not great," she sighed, "It turns out I'm quite the disappointment."
"Why?"
"Because I'm not making anything of my life. Just handing out butterbeers and fire whisky, no great achievements in academia or high political office."
"He values power," Tom said, "He pretends not to, but he does."
Minerva sighed. "I think everyone does."
"I expect so," Tom replied, sipping his drink. "Nobody wants to be nobody."
Looking disappointed she turned away to serve a few other customers before returning to Tom.
"What was it like?" he asked her suddenly, over another stolen butterbeer, "With the dementors?"
Her face paled. "I can't," she said.
He offered no apology, no sympathy, but he nodded and let the subject drop. They stood in silence again.
An owl flew into the bar and dropped a brown paper package in front of Minerva. She picked it up with a smile.
"What's that?" asked Tom with interest.
"A book," she replied.
"What book?"
She ripped the paper off and showed him the title.
"Secrets of Wand Magic," he read, looking at her questioningly.
"Dumbledore was reading it," she said, "And trying to hide it from me. It's hard to get as well. No bookshop had it, but Borgin and Burkes eventually managed to source a copy."
She grinned proudly and hugged the book to her chest.