Disclaimer: I own nothing, but my thoughts of AU and OC, the rest all belong to J K Rowling.
Chapter 21
Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry
January 1960
The young Transfiguration Professor of Hogwarts gaped at the empty seat across her desk and sat still. Old memories preserved in the recesses of her mind started opening their doors and windows and began filling her mindscape. She recalled her mother Isobel Ross after all these years. Thinking of her, she remembered her childhood and how her mother would tell her similar fantastic tales.
Filius Flitwick knew more about her than he let on. Indeed he was a Ravenclaw. There was a great debate regarding his acceptance as a Charms Apprentice. The Half Goblin had spent years working under many previous professors. Only after the Board of Governors could no longer ignore his knowledge and his tendencies to perform extraordinary magic did they call for a meeting. Dumbledore, earlier on, shared with her that the Hogwarts staff was too wary about sending the star pupil away. The ministry and the board thought they couldn't quite hand over Filius back to the Goblins either. They didn't want a repeat of the Goblin rebellions.
It so seemed Flitwick had thought all these possibilities. The diminutive man had written a long letter to the Headmaster of Hogwarts, the Minister of Magic, the Elders of the British Goblin Colony as well as the Head of the Board of Governors. In all of them, he clearly stated, "My allegiance is to Magic and Magic alone. I have not chosen Hogwarts as my home, it's the castle itself which has welcomed me as its resident. As long as I will live, I will dedicate my knowledge and my magic, my blood, body, mind, and Soul to Magic and this castle alone."
"Since Hogwarts is revered by several magical communities, they could argue with the subtle demands of the half-goblin. Filius stepped into too many posts at once and we accepted it without a grudge. If you mingle with him, you will find him as content and levelled headed person. He is not a professor to differentiate between students. he truly does not like to pick favorites. Even the Slytherins honour him because he does not judge them for who they are. Instead, he focuses on their talent. I have heard students telling each other, that the goblin 'Charms Master' works hard on his wards, and harder on all who have the acumen for Charms but are slightly slower to catch up with the rest. Would you believe it, he was the first one to tell me, 'Albus, beware of the Riddle boy. He is more than what he lets on," her mentor and colleague had once revealed.
Goblins it is believed could outlive wizards. Dumbledore stated Flitwick had attended Hogwarts after he himself had passed out and had gone overseas to learn more about Magic from other Magical schools. It was argued that he simply got the best of both the magical races, Goblin and Pureblood wizard. Minerva tried imagining what would it be like to have two brilliant students attending Hogwarts at the same time.
'Filius Flitwick was nothing like Albus Dumbledore,' she finally accepted, 'both of them could handle the post of Headmaster or any other position of importance at the ministry for that matter. Yet, Filius chose to remain in Hogwarts. And it now seems he will continue to do that, like forever, just the way he had promised everyone.'
Her eyes had traveled lazily up and down her rather a commendable collection of tomes and knickknacks. Suddenly the witch sat up straight, her wariness forgotten at once. Her eyes were fixed on the same glass ball above the shelf of periodicals, which had drawn the charms professor's attention and had led him to share the fantastic tales of dragons and master animagus.
She kept staring at the reflecting surface of the glass ball with a breathing burgundy dragon encased within. Her thoughts traveled back to the times when she was a little girl and that glass ball had fascinated her. It was one of her mother's prized possessions, one little Minerva was not allowed to touch.
The Castle was quiet like nothing had happened in the last couple of hours. The resident Charms Professor's mystic old voice still hung heavily, an odd fantastic tale breathing down her neck. Sensing the dreariness, the winter's frosty winds had picked up their ominous chorus, crashing against the castle walls now and then. Even the candles were wary as they dared to keep burning through the late hours of the night.
Minerva McGonagall did not notice the floo connection coming alive and the headmaster's face now visible among the green flames.
Albus Dumbledore had been quite worried and desiring to unburden his thoughts often sort a much clear-minded and intuitive Minerva. They were colleagues first, friends next, and a headmaster and a deputy headmistress at last. The wizard was about to call his younger friend when he saw how wrapped in attention and how lost the latter looked. Following her line of sight, Dumbledore could see the bookcase, but from his crouched-up position, nothing else was quite visible. I will have to look closer, once she invites me in.
"Minerva, deputy headmistress?"
Startled, Minerva wheeled around, her eyes wide at the sight of a rather amused grandfatherly Dumbledore.
"Now, that I have your full attention, may I come in?" the older man chuckled, the skin around his mirthful eyes wrinkling.
"Oh! By all means, Albus. Has something happened again? I don't quite hear the hum anymore though…"
"Nothing my dear. Nothing to bother about. Just that this old man was feeling rather ill at ease. And was willing to seek out his intuitive deputy headmistress. I mean, may I, if you so permit, officially pick at your 'rational insights'?"
"Why Albus, you can, if you wish, my 'rational insights" are always at your service…but I would rather suggest you better sleep over this whole affair…a good night's sleep is the best medicine to get clarity of thought and mind. Not a fair playful debate."
Minerva still noticed how the regal and powerful wizard was now standing defeated all of a sudden, in her Gryffindor chambers. She, in the spirit of good nature, motioned him to take one of the comfortable wingback chairs, by the fireplace and calling for a yet another tea service, settled herself across, its twin counterpart.
Once the tea service arrived, the two colleagues settled with their respective cups nestled in their hands, Dumbledore spoke up, "I didn't wish to draw unnecessary attention to certain facts, during that colossal meeting we had after dinner."
Tilting her head as a signal for the other to continue, Minerva sat up, eyes trained at her visitor.
"Not for once, but several occasions, I kept thinking about one student of ours. The one, I should have put a tighter rein on…"
"Are you referring to Riddle?"
"The very same…Tom Riddle. No one knows what he is up to. But there are whispers. Whispers in dark alleys, dingy pubs, and murky dealing houses, a Power is on the rise, they are saying, evil and sinister, that is building up its strength and in years to come will eclipse all that is good and fair. It will return the glory of magical supreme to those of the purebloods, and perhaps, perhaps succeed in removing traces of the impure and muddy…"
Pausing to place his empty cup on the center round table, Dumbledore steepled his fingers and rested his chin over them.
"I don't like the sound of all these rumors. We have had quite many quiet years. We have had flourishing students. We have been doing a commendable job at training the best magical folks of Britain. Yet why peace always seems to be threatened at each turn of an era is beyond me."
As if unable to contain his agitation, the headmaster got up, and started pacing to and fro the room, with the entrance to his one end and the enormous bookshelf at the other.
"I wish I was certain of his whereabouts, Minerva. The last concrete details we have of his location happens to be somewhere in the Alps. "
This had a startling effect on the other attentive listener of the room.
"Is he trying to follow the footsteps of Grindelwald?"
Turning sharply at the Transfiguration professor, Dumbledore stared hard and cold, his voice stern and foreboding, "That wizard is death, and anything and everything of his, is destroyed and burned to ashes," gripping his wand in one hand, he continued, "he shall never rise again, we saw to it, I vouch for myself, Minerva, he shall never rise."
"Then! Why are you so shaken up Albus? Surely it is not just Tom, it can't be just him, is there something more, something else that you wish to share, or perhaps want me to find out?"
While the younger witch tried to implore at her older colleague, the wizard slowly walked up to the bookcase and was scoring the shelves lazily, pensive and thoughtful. A glint right above where the shelf of periodicals ended. 'There! once again, it glistened with the flicker of the candlelight. Perhaps that was what got Minnie all wrapped up,' he eagerly thought to himself.
Walking up to the edge of the bookcase, trailing his fingers over the dusty journals, giving nothing out to the witch coaxing him to calm down and reconsider the facts with a serene mind, Albus Dumbledore stood shocked and rigid all of a sudden. He had spotted the same glass ball, which Filius Flitwick had prior to him.
As if speaking to himself, he muttered, though, the younger professor could hear him in the quiet room, "And there are things that remain blank and hazy in my mind, things that make my heart ache but my mind refuses to acknowledge- I wish against my wishes that I could de-age, go back to my younger self. I think there lie several answers to present questions of my life, but Time and Tide waits for none, do they…"
Recognizing the subtle shift in the conversation, Minerva watched the headmaster more closely than she had before.
"Albus?"
The man turned sideways, his face away from her shelf, eyes downcast and emotions guarded. She watched him blinking his eyes once and then twice, shaking his head a couple of times and then decisively straightening his back. Turning back fully, now facing her, he replied jovially, "I knew myself to be a collector of oddities, since when did I start influencing you?"
At the woman's upturned eyebrow, the old wizard pointed his index finger at glass ball, larger than a fist, with a Ridgeback Norwegian dragon, breathing fire at equal intervals, its blue azure eyes twinkling each time the candlelight happen to catch its way. Minerva laughed and somberly said, "It's my mother's last gift to me…." then trailed off.
"Oh!" Albus did not pry.
"I better take my leave. I hope the weekends will give us enough time to settle back and help the students to calm down enough. Minerva, I wish you do sleep it over as well. I noticed you were not feeling quite well during the meeting?"
"Think nothing of it. It was just a headache, nothing that Horace's Invigoration Draught potion cannot banish away!"
"Well then, Good night dear."
"Good night Albus, and don't pace and drill a hole on the carpet. Give yourself a break and actually sleep, Headmaster."
"As you say, Deputy Headmistress."
Patting her hand affectionately, Dumbledore left by the floo connection moments later.