50 – There's No Place Like Home

The clock above the door silently ticked away the minutes to the end of last class of the week. The students finished their assignment, rereading, and making sure their names were on the top of the parchment. There was a shuffle as the papers were collected, and quiet chatter began. As the bell sounded, a group of seventh-year boys gathered around one table at the back of the room readying to leave.

"Should be an interesting night tonight," Urbus McNair grinned, his lips twisting wickedly to the left side of his face giving the hefty boy a lopsided appearance. "First meeting of the Slug Club. I wonder who Slughorn's invited this year?"

"I heard him say something about Mulciber in fifth-year. Seems the bloke has a talent for getting people to do exactly what he wants," Nott put in as he stood to leave.

"There should be plenty to talk about. The summer was eventful." McNair gathered his books to follow the others.

Tom quietly placed his supplies into his book bag and slung it over his shoulder. He had followed the summer's event faithfully noting Grindelwald's strengths and what he considered the weaknesses.

"Did you hear? The Dumbledore brat is staying at Hogwarts. I overheard Bagshot and Flaurance talking about volunteering some time to school her here." McNair lowered his voice but snorted scathingly as they left the History of Magic classroom.

"What? Too good to join a regular primary school with other kids?" Goyle added with distain.

"With only the fourth through seventh-years to teach, Castlewood only works part-time anyway. Dippet made sure that all her classes were in the afternoons so that she could home-school the little princess in the morning, except Fridays. I guess the schedule didn't fully fit the Headmaster's pet. Nothing like having things always go your way. You ever notice how she and Dumbledore always seem to do as they please and get away with it?" Nott insinuated as they headed down the dark, sloping corridor toward the Slytherin Common Room. "What about you, Tom? Castlewood and Dumbledore aren't your favourites. Got a thought?"

Tom shrugged to lift his bag higher onto his shoulder eyeing his classmates superiorly as if he knew something that they didn't. "Maybe they're afraid of something. With the girl out of the school, they can't keep an eye on her. Dumbledore does work for the Ministry. That's no secret, but exactly what does he do? No one says." He left his comment hanging and watched as the group processed the possibilities. Smothering a satisfied grin, he cleared his throat and gave the password before leading the way into the dungeon room.

~~~***~~~

"Are you sure you'll be all right? Pinky is here if you need anything, and I'm certain you can call on your mother if necessary," Elizabett fussed as she adjusted the bodice of her calf-length, navy blue dress. It was pencil thin and fitted neatly around her ribs.

"We'll be fine, Professor. Go. Have fun. Catherine and I are going to pop some popcorn and play a game." Eileen grinned proudly. The awkward thirteen-year old wasn't terribly popular with her classmates and was happy to spend the Friday night babysitting Catherine while the Dumbledores went out.

"Ready?" Albus asked as he entered the main room from the bedroom, straightening the front of his simple, Muggle suit.

Elizabett nodded. "I think I have everything." She rummaged through her purse.

"I'm sure you do, and if you don't, you won't need it." Albus grinned as he grasped Elizabett's elbow and gently led his distracted wife to the door. "Good night you two. Don't stay up too late." He playfully wagged a finger at his daughter.

Catherine giggled. "Ten o'clock, right?" The child grinned impishly.

"Eight," her father replied with a firm, forward tilt of his head.

"Good night, darling." Elizabett bent to hug her daughter good-bye. "Be good."

"Why do parents always say that? It's not like we're going to go looking for trouble." Eileen rolled her eyes.

Albus and Elizabett chuckled as the door closed behind them.

"Ten?" Catherine looked up at Eileen hopefully.

The babysitter looked toward the door, then at her young charge. "Nine, but only if your good."

"Why do people always say that? I'm not going to look for trouble." The child imitated her friend with a playful tease.

~~~***~~~

The violins eased the Friday night audience with their peaceful grace as the sweet notes filled the university chamber. Viola, then cello, joined in adding dimension to the growing string melody. This was the first concert of the school year for the University of Edinburgh's music department with last year's most popular String Quartet performing Mozart's Viennese Quartet Number Ten in C Major.

Albus and Elizabett had Apparated from the boundary gate to a convenient side alley beside Alison House, and joined the chattering crowd as they moved up the cement stairs and into the building. It had been a long time since they had been to a concert. When she was single, Elizabett had made it a habit to attend the monthly recitals. And, in the first year of their marriage, Albus had joined her, but as the years passed, life interrupted, and their visits became less and less frequent. When Albus made the invitation at Monday's dinner, Elizabett had been pleasantly surprised and excited. Neither was on duty that night, and her hopes were high. Life at home was slowly getting back to normal.

As the cello strung its last note, the gathering broke into appreciative applause, nodding and quietly commenting to each other. It had been a wonderful example of the music department's efforts, and the students puffed in pride at the ovation.

Standing to leave, the couple mingled with the other patrons heading toward the exit until Albus felt a hand land on his shoulder.

"What a surprise to see you here," a tall, husky man, whom Elizabett didn't recognize, acknowledged her husband with a broad smile.

Albus turned to face the newcomer, his face dropping slightly but quickly recovering with false pleasantry. "Utter, I didn't know you liked chamber music." He reached to shake the man's hand.

"Its all right. I'm always willing to try new and different things." Utter Longhorn spoke loudly but retained his grip on Albus' hand, pulling him a step closer. "I actually need to speak with you," he lowered his voice as his head bent forward slightly.

Albus looked over his left shoulder to his waiting wife. "Now?" Albus questioned. "This is not the appropriate time or place."

"It will only take a minute," the other man assured with an agreeable twist of his lips.

"I know your minutes, Utter. It never takes "a minute"." Albus gently pried his hand from the other man's grip.

Utter Longhorn, Director of the International Wizard Co-operation, drew to his full height matching Albus' tall stature, his demeanour becoming harder. "Surely you haven't forgotten the importance of what we do. You've had a long enough break. It's time to get back to work."

Albus turned to glance at Elizabett once more: she waited patiently, her face unemotional, letting him make his own decision. He drew a deep breath and steadily faced the Director.

"There is no way I can forget, not after what I've seen," he whispered to his colleague. "And, I have gone back to work. School has only been in for a month. Do not forget, I'm a teacher and Deputy Headmaster. My duties are there. My work for the Ministry is secondary. Now, Sir, this is not the appropriate time to discuss these matters. My wife and I have plans, and we will be leaving now." He turned his back on the hardened man, grasping Elizabett's elbow, and purposefully steering her out of the building.

Elizabett could feel his tension, and he fairly fumed as they quickly strode down the steps and onto the street. Once they were half way across Nicolson Square, she eased back, slowing her pace, forcing him to slow down. Facing him, she placed a sweet kiss on his bristly cheek. He had had an opportunity to leave. They sought him out, and he had refused. This was the devotion she had been craving from him. His stony expression of annoyance faded into a gentle smile as they resumed their walk at a more leisurely pace.

"Tea and crumpets?" Elizabett suggested as they approached a little teashop on the opposite side of the square.

Albus sighed lightly and nodded. "With raspberry jam," his voice was soft.

~~~***~~~

Somewhere in the dark distance, a bell chimed the late hour. It had been a lovely evening, one that had led into an even better night. Albus dreamily rolled onto his side feeling the gentle rise a fall of Elizabett's breathing as she slept. It was the first time in months that they had made love. Once he had walked Eileen back to her quarters, he returned to find Elizabett curled up on the sofa in her pyjamas humming the first movement of the quartet that they had just seen. She was so lovely, looked so innocent. His chest swelled for the first time in a long time, and as they sat in comfortable silence, her head tuck neatly against his chest, he felt a stir that he had nearly lost hope for. Rising and leading her to the bedroom, she had allowed him to take his time, unwrapping her from her nightclothes and leading her to bed, his fingertips timid and hesitant as they tenderly ran over her body. Her skin smelled of lavender, a scent that he had always found calming, and he lost himself in exploring the softness. Neither spoke, and as they reached their individual climaxes and eased back to themselves, they curled into each other's embrace and fell asleep.

Now, with the hourly chime signally two o'clock, Albus rolled onto his back and stared up at the dark ceiling. The night had indeed been one to remember. Mozart's Viennese Quartets, especially tonight's Number Ten in C Major, had always been among his favourites, despite the fact that at certain points the music sounded distinctly like Haydn's Opus Number Nine in B Flat and Number Four in D Minor…but who could fault musical genius. He smiled to himself, but the smile dropped quickly with the next thought. Utter Longhorn. The evening had almost been ruined by the appearance of the Director of International Wizard Co-Operation. Albus seriously doubted that Utter was there to "try new and different things". No. He was there to contact him. Albus had made a concerted effort upon returning to Hogwarts to focus his attention on the school and his family, and so far, he had succeeded. It's not that he had avoided the Ministry, not by any means, but the summer's events had taken a traumatic toll, and he needed time to recuperate.

He sighed and closed his eyes again, willing himself back to sleep. Utter had personally sought him out. He had interrupted the evening to speak with him, and had been brushed off. It must have been important. Albus had heard rumours about Grindelwald's latest endeavours and could feel the anger well within him. Abruptly swinging his legs over the edge of the bed to sit up, he hesitated as his sudden movement made Elizabett stir and grumble. Carefully standing, he replaced the covers over the now-vacant spot and crept out of the bedroom and into the living room, quietly closing the door behind him. Making his way through the darkness to the hearth, he knelt by the glowing embers and called for Utter Longhorn. Within minutes, a husky face with dishevelled, peppered hair, striped pyjamas, and tired eyes appeared.

"Dumbledore? What in the name of Merlin's ghost are you doing up at this hour?" the man whispered hoarsely.

Albus hesitated for a moment. What was he doing up at this hour? Was it really that important? "You said you needed to speak with me," he clearly stated into the flame. "I don't believe you were at the concert by chance. If you were willing to interrupt my evening, it must have been important. What is it?"

Utter looked away for a brief moment, then brought his attention back. Weighing his words carefully, he began. "I apologize for the interruption, and you were right, it wasn't the time or place, but we are in need of your expertise. The team has another task."

Albus felt a knot form in the pit of his stomach, and the bile rise into his throat. "What's Gindelwald up to now?" he questioned dejectedly.

"No good," was Utter's concise reply. "We need to meet. Tomorrow morning. It's already after two. Think you can be in my office by nine without raising much suspicion?"

Albus felt his jaw tighten. He had promised to take Catherine to the Quidditch tryout for the Gryffindor team. She loved watching the speed of the players, and had been looking forward to it all week, reminding him repeatedly each day.

"As long as I'm back by noon. I have other duties," Albus' reply was firm.

Utter nodded. "That shouldn't be a problem. See you in a few hours."

As Utter faded with the dying embers, the knot in Albus' stomach crept up into his throat. Utter's meetings were never short. He wondered what Gellert was up to this time.

~~~***~~~

"I knew he wouldn't make it! He's probably forgotten!" Catherine stomped her feet angrily as the lights in the apartment flickered with her rage. She threw her cloak onto the floor, pouting, and crossed her arms across her chest. "He promised, and he's not back yet!"

"It's only just turned noon." Elizabett tried to console her angry daughter. "He's not late yet. Beside, he explained where he was going, and that Mr. Longwind…I mean Longhorn, is always late. Your Daddy has been looking forward to bringing you to the tryouts today. I'm sure he'll be here soon."

Elizabett tried to make the situation light by purposefully mispronouncing the Director's name, but Catherine was too upset to notice. Climbing into the armchair to sulk, her small feet dangled over the edge. She sat there for a long time, refusing to budge even when Elizabett suggested that they leave a note for Albus and head to the Quidditch pitch anyway.

Twelve thirty passed, and eventually the clock in the tower struck one. Catherine still refused to move, and Elizabett's heart was ready to break. As the chime of the last bell faded, the door swung open, and Albus raced in, his face red with exertion from the run up from Hogsmede.

"Okay," he puffed as he tossed his satchel to the ground and placed his hands on the kitchen counter to catch his breath. "I'm here. I saw players still on the pitch. Let's go." He reached to grasp Catherine's hand as she dashed to grab her cloak. "Sorry I'm late, pet," he apologized as they dashed from the chambers.

"Did Mr. Longwind keep you for detention?" Catherine asked as they ran down the corridor.

Albus stumbled to a halt and gazed at his daughter in surprise, then burst out laughing. "Longwind? There's a good name for him. No dear, and it's nothing for you to worry about."

~~~***~~~

Wind whipped around the stands on the early October afternoon. Students from various Houses gathered in the seats to watch the Gryffindor team choose their players for the new season. As the candidates strutted onto the pitch, the captain gathered the group to give his instructions: two circuits around the perimeter then take the place in the air for the positions you're trying out for.

Brooms were mounted, and the players bolted into the air at a frantic pace, jostling for first position in what everyone, except the captain, thought was a race.

Various spectators ohh'ed and ahh'ed as a few close calls nearly brought players crashing to the ground.

Tom sat in the Slytherin stands with McNair and Mulciber, the sullen boy watching the others with a satisfied twist of his lips.

"Watch this." Mulciber discretely pointed his wand from under his cloak at a boy protecting the goal.

Suddenly, the boy in the air dodged out of the way of a charging bludger, his anger evident at the unexpected movement as he shook his broom.

"Good one!" McNair laughed as he clapped the fifth-year on his shoulder. "They'll never get a decent team together with us here."

"Which is highly unsportsman-like of you," a firm voice caught the boys by surprise. "As talented as you may be, boy, you must learn appropriateness. The Imperius Curse is forbidden for a reason, and if caught using it, you can be sent to Azkaban. I hardly think that is a place you wish to be."

"No, Sir," Mulciber obediently replied.

"I suggest you all make a timely departure, and allow Gryffindor House to chose their team. By the looks of things, they don't need your help in finding inept players," Professor Slughorn chuckled to himself as the boys grinned and stood to leave.

"Thank you, Sir." They dipped their heads as they quickly descended the steps.

Slughorn absently waved them off as he took a vacated seat.

From his perch high in the Slytherin stand, Horace Slughorn had a good view of the pitch and watched as the young Gryffindors whizzed by. Soon, his attention was drawn to the right as his old friend raced in with his daughter in tow. He snorted to himself. Whatever had happened over the summer had left Albus behaving very strangely. He was on edge, almost jumpy, and tried to over-compensate in his attention toward school and his family, as if he were trying to make up for something. Horace watched as they took their seats in the Gryffindor stand. He huffed inwardly at another thought. Elizabett seemed happy with the change, but she also seemed cautious, as if suspecting him to run off again on some secret mission. Weren't they all secret missions? He snorted. Albus wasn't even telling him what was going on and had refused to come to the dungeons since school began. Horace frowned. Before summer break, their friendship seemed to be regaining its old familiarity, but since they'd been back, Albus had pointedly avoided being alone with him. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and popped another sweet into his mouth. Bother.

As the last player landed on the pitch, the candidates gathered around the captain for the last set of instructions. Names of the team players would be posted in the Common Room by Sunday night. They left the area laughing and chatting loudly about the afternoon, recanting missed chances, silly moves, great saves, and fantastic passes.

Albus and Catherine had been able to catch at least an hour of the tryouts, and Catherine gleefully bounced around her father's legs as they headed back to the castle.

"Uncle Horace!!" she joyfully called as the Potions professor waddled down the last step of the stands. "This is the Gryffindor team. Why are you here?"

"Oh," he smiled at the youngster. "I like to see what the competition is up to." He playfully winked at her. "Are you going to play Quidditch when you get older?"

"I want to be a Seeker," she proudly announced, chin jutted forward. "If they let girls on the team by the time I get chosen to a House."

"And, what House do you want to be in?" Horace asked. "Gryffindor like your father, or Hufflepuff like your mother?"

"Ravenclaw." Her grin was priceless.

Horace's eyebrows rose as he eyed Albus curiously. "Why Ravenclaw? Because, you're so smart?" he teased.

Catherine rolled her eyes. "Mummy says that all Houses are smart, and that the Hat will chose because of what's inside of me."

"But, why do you want Ravenclaw?" Horace was curious now.

"Because, they have pretty colours," Catherine replied as if it were the most obvious answer.

Horace burst out laughing and shook his head. "Such a girl!" Noting Catherine's offended glare, he continued. "I'm sorry, child. I'm not used to dealing with a mind such as yours. If Ravenclaw is what you want, then I hope the Hat agrees with you." Turning his attention to Albus for the first time, he began, "I saw you rush in. Did you forget?"

"No, I had… other things to take care of." Albus caught himself before telling any details.

Horace "hmphed" at Albus' failure to disclose information and walked back to the castle with the pair in silence. Entering through the main doors, they stopped to bid each other "good-bye".

"You haven't been to visit in a long time. Why don't you come down tonight," Horace invited.

"Possibly. I'll see what Elizabett is up to," Albus replied without a second thought of really accepting the offer. He had been very uncomfortable around Horace since returning. In his mind, there was a fine line between Horace and Gellert on a personal level. It was simply a situation that he'd rather avoid at the moment.

~~~***~~~

The apartment was quiet, and the sun beamed through the living room window warming the early fall air.

Elizabett peacefully curled up on the sofa allowing the silence to infiltrate her tired mind.

Last night had been incredible. Albus had been the tender man she loved and had married. She accepted the fact the life changes, and thus, so do people. It was something that happened to everyone, but his changes had been so drastic over the past few years that she was beginning to wonder if she had been deceived by his thoughtfulness during their courtship. Now, with being back at school, his attention had been on his duties here and with his family. Only once or twice had he been to the Ministry. It was almost too good to be true. She never had a doubt about their friendship, but she was beginning to question their romantic relationship. She was thrilled to have his old self back.

Closing her eyes and tipping her head onto the back of the sofa, she began to drift serenely. Then, startling with a loud tap at the large glass door that led to the patio, she uncurled and stretched, toddling carefully toward the sound. On the other side of the glass, a familiar bird was butting his beak against the pane. Opening the door, the bird boldly flew in and landed on the kitchen table, dropping its letter into the fruit bowl before helping itself to a grape.

Elizabett's heart rose to her throat and an unconscious shiver ran through her as she approached the bird.

"Cheeky," she shooed the creature away from the bowl and gave it a treat.

Picking up the cream coloured envelope, she tore the edge open and slipped the letter out. Carefully unfolding the parchment, her hands shaking slightly, she read the note.

Dearest Lizzie,

Edvard and I miss you and Catherine terribly.

Is there a chance that we can get the children together for Samhain?

Thomas