33. Blaze of Glory

Time was a funny thing. In many ways, it seemed that no time had passed at all since Minerva had returned to Hogwarts to teach, when in fact it had been two years now. But at the same time, it felt as though she had been a part of the teaching staff for as long as Albus himself had been. It was such a remarkable fit that it was truly laughable that no one had suggested she should be a teacher from the very beginning.

Every now and then, Albus wondered if she would be happier now if he had stopped her from taking that detour via the Ministry first. He'd had plenty of influence on her when she was younger, even though he had tried not to use it too much. She had even asked him for his opinion on the Ministry several times. He could have told her the truth. His truth, anyway.

But he had wanted her to learn from her own experiences. So she had. And now she had a broken heart. Then again, it might be sheer arrogance to add that to his long list of faults. He was probably just too used to the feeling of guilt on his shoulders. It had become a comfortable companion. Or if not comfortable, then at least familiar.

Anyway, it was a relief that Minerva was a bloody brilliant teacher. She was strict, of course, very much so. Sometimes even a little too much when it came to taking points from Gryffindor. Then again, that was only the competitive Head of House in him talking. Because while she was strict, she was always fair. It made it difficult for the students or anyone to hate her for it.

Also, there was no denying her competence and capability. Her knowledge of Transfiguration, already vast when Armando had hired her, had only grown since then, as Minerva had taken to reading every book in Albus' private library. It certainly rivalled or even surpassed his own. And of course, he could not demonstrate an Animagus transformation in the classroom. That was actually a little annoying. Students never used to ask Albus about that before Minerva had come along.

But that little bruise to his ego aside, Albus was very happy to let her take over more and more of his classes. He had already decided that he would give her his N.E.W.T. class next year as well. Since her brother Malcolm was graduating today, there was no more reason not to. And Minerva would handle the workload a lot better than he did anyway.

"Are you ready to once again be the only McGonagall in Hogwarts Castle?" Albus asked her when they met on their way to the Great Hall for the graduation ceremony.

Minerva frowned. "I'm certainly glad that Malcolm has done so well on his N.E.W.T.s," she hedged.

"Has he decided what to do with them?"

"Yes, he and Pomona are both off to St. Mungo's."

Albus nodded. "Excellent. Will she be taking Peppers with her?" he asked with a chuckle.

"I'm not sure that's possible since he is the size of a baby giant by now…"

Their laughter quieted down when they entered the Great Hall. For some reason, Silvanus had volunteered to be in charge of the decorations this year, and so tiny glasses filled with glowing Flobberworms floated all over the hall. Albus assumed they were supposed to look like stars, but to him they just looked like insects trapped behind glass. Then again, what did he know about decorations?

"Minerva!" Isobel McGonagall waved to her daughter from the other end of the hall, and Albus quietly slipped away to leave her to her family reunion.

He talked to Armando until it was time to get this year's graduates. When the families and friends had settled down, he opened the doors and the ceremony began. Every year, it was a day of both pride and nostalgia. Another group of young minds was ready to leave this castle and to shape the community that was waiting for them out there in one way or another. As always, Albus hoped it would be for the better.

After the ceremony, he shook hands and exchanged good wishes with the students he had taught. He had just sat down to rest his feet when Minerva and Malcolm joined him.

"Thanks for teaching me all these years, Professor," the latter said.

"My pleasure," Albus replied with a smile.

"And could you give this to Fawkes? You know, for saving my life in my first year here?"

Albus looked from the box with snacks to Minerva. "You and your family are spoiling that bird rotten."

Minerva shrugged. "He deserves it."

"I always thought you liked him better than me," Albus quipped.

"Well, he is devastatingly handsome," she replied, laughing.

The spark in her eyes almost distracted Albus from a real spark he thought he had just seen behind her. "Do you smell… fire?" he asked.

Before Minerva could answer, one of the glasses above their heads exploded and the Flobberworm inside – clearly no Flobberworm at all – burst into flames.

Albus and Minerva leapt to their feet as the Great Hall erupted in screams and chaos. Albus pointed his wand at the ball of fire, engulfing it in a column of water, but to his left and right more worms exploded, sending fiery sparks everywhere. One of the tables rose into the air and arched over his head protectively. Other tables and chairs followed, coming to life to serve both as barriers and ushers to guide the students and their families out of the burning hall, directed by a quick wave of Minerva's wand.

"Out! Get everybody out!" Armando roared at the other teachers and everyone surged towards the exits.

Albus stood his ground, allowing his column of water to expand and push back against the wall of flames. But there had been dozens of those worm-filled glasses all over the hall and like a chain reaction they kept bursting, igniting new fires all over.

He took a step back, brushing against Minerva, who hadn't moved either, other than to direct her army of chairs and tables. This was clearly becoming her signature spell. She pressed into him and standing back to back, they weaved their magic to contain the flames. The fire burned faster and hotter, however, than normal flames would have. Thankfully, the castle was almost empty today. Still, the fire could not be allowed to spread.

Out of the corner of his eye, Albus registered that everyone had managed to flee the hall, their colleagues bringing up the rear. "Minerva, when I tell you to, duck!" he said urgently and he could feel her nod rather than hear her assent.

He waved his wand, closing all doors to the hall, before he collected his focus. "Now!" he yelled.

Minerva dropped to the ground and Albus followed her example, wrapping himself around her to make sure they were both enclosed by his protection spell. Around them, his columns of water merged and grew into a tidal wave that swept across the hall. It shattered the remaining glasses, drowned the fiery little creatures, extinguished their fire and destroyed everything else in its wake. Chairs and tables broke into smithereens and Albus grabbed Minerva more tightly, though he knew that his shield would hold.

Slowly, the churning of the water eased and eventually stopped. Cautiously, Albus allowed his spell to fade and the water began to evaporate. Once it was gone, he straightened up again.

"Are you all right?" he asked, helping Minerva to get back up as well. Her hair had come loose, so she looked a little wild and slightly singed around the edges, but otherwise completely unshaken.

She nodded, her eyes widening as she surveyed the destruction around them. But the walls of the Great Hall were strong and stood virtually untouched. The rest could be repaired.

"What was that?" she asked breathlessly.

"Not Flobberworms, that much is for certain," said Albus as he turned over the remnants of one of the creatures with the tip of his shoe.

"I meant your spell."

"A modified Inferno Spell," Albus replied. "I thought it best to make sure that there was no chance of the fire spreading to the rest of the castle."

Minerva shook her head. "Those are impossible to control."

Albus gave her a small smile. "Impossible is a relative term."

"No, it really isn't." Her eyes went to the wand in his hand. "I always meant to ask you this. Where did you get your wand? It's not from Ollivanders, is it?"

"No," Albus said simply. Once again, she was too smart for her own good. Or his – as he didn't wish to lie to her. But as always, his feelings were of little consequence compared to her safety. Even though she had just demonstrated her resilience.

"Then where did you buy it?" Minerva pressed, causing Albus to suppress a sigh.

"I didn't buy it. This… belonged to Gellert Grindelwald."

"You took his wand?" Minerva breathed, astonished. "Why?"

Albus slipped the Elder Wand back into his pocket and out of her sight. "Because somebody had to."

She probably wouldn't have left it at that, but there was a banging on the doors to the hall that distracted her. Since Albus had just put away his wand, Minerva opened the doors with hers.

Armando and some of the other teachers hurried towards them. "You two okay?"

"We're fine. What about the students and their families?"

"A couple of burns here and there. They are already being treated in the hospital wing," Cyrille replied. "But no major injuries."

"Thanks to the two of you," Armando added, looking livid. "What the bloody hell happened? Silvanus! Where are you? Get in here and explain this to me!"

Silvanus stepped out from behind Horace's impressive figure. "They must have been Ashwinders, not Flobberworms. Very easily confused the two. Except the worms are harmless while the Ashwinders, well, they can burn down buildings in minutes. I had my third-years collect them you see…"

"But you are the Care of Magical Creatures teacher! You should bloody well know better!" Armando yelled.

"Well, yes, I probably should have double-checked their work, but really, how else will they learn?"

"How about by not burning to death?" Armando bellowed. "I've had enough of this! I'll have to sack you this time!"

"Armando, perhaps take the holidays to think about this," Albus suggested quietly.

The headmaster didn't look inclined to change his mind, but he also seemed weary of arguing about this. "Fine, probation then. Not that it still matters. And now get out of my sight!"

Silvanus was wise enough to leave without another word.

"The most famous hall in the entire castle nearly burned down on graduation day. What a disgrace!" Armando kept muttering. "And what in the name of Merlin did you do, Albus? Did you set off a tornado in here?"

"Don't worry. All of this can be fixed," Albus assured him.

"See that it is! I have to go talk to the parents, who would probably take their children and run if they hadn't already graduated." Armando stormed off.

There was a short pause after the headmaster's dramatic exit. Albus knew that his anger came from having to explain this to the governors, which would be difficult to do without losing face.

"Do you need help restoring the hall?" Minerva asked eventually.

"No, go look after your family," Albus told her with a soft smile.

"I'll help," said Horace, stepping forward. "These are, after all, my kind of charms."

"Yes, I never thought I would say this, but can we all agree to put Horace back in charge of decorations?" Cyrille deadpanned.

No one was really in the mood to laugh about this. Minerva left for the hospital wing while Albus and Horace concentrated their efforts on restoring the Great Hall to its former glory.

"This is actually a great opportunity. I always wanted more comfortable chairs," said Horace as he fixed the staff table.

"There probably would have been an easier way to achieve that," Albus replied as he focused on renewing the enchantments on the tables that allowed for the food to be sent up from the kitchens.

Horace chortled. "Just looking for the silver lining. Speaking of which, what should we do about that?" He pointed his thumbs at the magical ceiling that was still an ominous shade of red.

"Nothing. It will return to normal when it's ready," Albus replied, having no intention of messing with that kind of ancient magic. Most likely, it was just a warning. Or an admonition.

When they had put the finishing touches to everything, Minerva returned to the hall to see if they really didn't need any more help.

"Is everyone in your family okay?" Albus asked her.

"They're fine."

"You don't look fine," he dared to point out.

She had changed into fresh robes and she had fixed her hair, but the look in her eyes was dull. "The headmaster was right. This didn't exactly endear this school to my father."

"Then it's a good thing that all of his children have already graduated."

"One of them still works here, though." Minerva sighed. "I just wish he could see Hogwarts the way I do and understand."

"Chin up, Minerva!" Horace chimed in. "I'm putting together a little shindig in my office, so we can all wash down today's rather unpleasant turn of events. We can just add that to the list." He clapped her on the shoulder before he left the hall to prepare his party.

"Well, would you like to go?" Albus asked after Horace's exit. He wasn't the biggest fan of Horace's elaborate gatherings, but in this case, he might be on to something. The staff could really use a get-together.

Minerva agreed with an absent-minded nod. "What's its core?" she suddenly asked as they slowly followed Horace.

"I beg your pardon?" Albus replied, but he was merely stalling. He knew exactly to which topic she had just returned to.

She only gave him a prompting look. "Your wand."

"I believe it is the tail hair of a Thestral," he told her after a short pause.

"Thestral hair?" she repeated slowly. "Then that wand was always marked for death."

"Yes, as we all are, in the end. That in itself is no reason to fear it."

"Perhaps not, but that particular wand was used to murder innocent people. How can it now bear allegiance to you the same way?" she asked, thinking of Grindelwald's crimes, unaware that the wand's history reached back a lot further than that.

And Albus was not about to tell her. As she had rightly pointed out, the Elder Wand had a strong affinity for death, and he would not risk transferring that mark to her. So instead he said, "Any wand is capable of greatness, whether good or bad relies solely on the one wielding it."

"Then I am both glad and sorry that it is now in your hands," Minerva said thoughtfully.

Albus smiled. And they said that he was wise. "So am I."

It felt strange to be back in the Ministry, Minerva thought as she crossed the atrium that was as busy as it had always been. In her letters to Elphinstone, they had talked about meeting up in person again soon and Minerva had finally decided to make that happen. Thanks to the new timetable this year (that, incidentally, she had helped Albus to put together), she had a whole afternoon without classes every Wednesday. So today, she had left Hogwarts to meet Elphinstone for lunch.

Minerva remembered coming in for work like this every morning, but once she stepped off the lift on the second floor, things changed. She hadn't exactly expected a warm welcome from her former colleagues in the Magical Law Enforcement Squad, but no one even so much as looked at her. Everyone was huddled together in small groups, whispering urgently, with sombre, even shocked looks on their faces.

With a curious frown, Minerva headed straight for Elphinstone's office. He, too, looked harassed upon her entry.

"Minerva! Galloping Gargoyles, I completely forgot about our lunch! Oh, what a day!"

"Elphinstone, what's going on?" she asked, her confusion more prominent than her anger that he had forgotten about her.

Elphinstone heaved a sigh. "Close the door." She did as she was told and sat in one of the chairs. Then, after another long pause, Elphinstone said, "Wilhelmina Tuft was found dead this morning."

"The Minister died?" Minerva gaped at him. "How?"

"It's not official yet, but there was an open box of Alihotsy-flavoured fudge on her bedside table. Apparently, she wasn't aware that she was extremely allergic."

"Then it was an accident."

"That's what we are trying to find out before letting the public know, but it looks that way," Elphinstone nodded.

Minerva leaned back in her chair, stunned. "How awful." Wilhelmina Tuft had been one of the more competent Ministers for Magic they'd had in recent years.

"I know. It's a tragedy," Elphinstone agreed.

"So what's going to happen now?" Minerva wondered.

"Well…" her former boss leaned in closer, "you haven't heard this from me, but they will ask Dumbledore to step in for now."

"What?" Minerva shook her head. "But he doesn't want the job!"

Elphinstone shrugged. "It's been a good ten years since they asked him the last time. Perhaps he's changed his mind."

Minerva opened her mouth to say that she was very sure he hadn't, but then she closed it again.

"I always thought that he didn't want to leave Hogwarts like that, but now Hogwarts has you, so there's that," Elphinstone continued.

"I'm not a replacement for Albus Dumbledore."

"Of course not. You're not a replacement for anyone." Elphinstone smiled at her. "You're the genuine article."

"But not important enough to pry you away from this desk to have lunch with," she said, standing back up.

Elphinstone followed her lead. "Not today, I'm afraid. Not with… everything that's going on. But I'll make it up to you. I promise."

Minerva took his rain check without further complaint. After all, what better or more terrible excuse was there than having to deal with the fallout of the sudden death of the British Minister for Magic?

She could think about nothing else on her way back to Hogwarts. She wasn't even hungry anymore, so she bypassed the Great Hall that thankfully showed no more signs of the devastating fire from last year.

Before she had consciously decided to do so, her feet took the familiar path to Albus' office. Minerva had a feeling that he wouldn't be eating lunch right now either. Her suspicions were confirmed when she entered and Albus did not greet her with his usual smile.

"You've heard." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," he said gravely.

Minerva dropped into her favourite armchair. "I still can't believe it. It seems so silly. All she did was to eat the wrong kind of sweets."

"We can only hope that it made for a painless death," Albus replied.

She gave him a dubious look. "I hope you don't have any allergies you're not aware of."

"I would say no, but I guess that is what Wilhelmina said as well."

They were both silent for a moment. Eventually, Minerva said, "So, have they asked you yet?"

She figured Albus would already know that, too, and indeed he did. "Not officially. Of course, none of this is official yet, so perhaps I can dissuade them before it even comes to that."

"Then you're saying no?"

Albus arched an eyebrow. "I didn't think you of all people would even ask me that."

Minerva bit her lip. "I know, but these are extenuating circumstances. We need a Minister for Magic, and I shudder to think what idiot they could come up with if you turn them down again."

"So, I'm better than some idiot, is that what you're saying?"

"You know that's not…" Minerva began, but stopped when she saw that Albus' lips were curled upwards. He was merely joking. "I'm serious, Albus," she told him. "Doesn't this at least merit some consideration?"

"Believe me, Minerva, I have thought about this very thoroughly," he assured her.

She had no reason not to believe him, but she still felt that things had changed since the last time they'd had this conversation. "What if you only did it for the interim?"

"Do you really think they would let me go again?"

Minerva snorted. "I want to see anyone try to stop you."

"Exactly," Albus muttered. Before she could ask, he added, "Regardless, when I start something, I usually have every intention of seeing it through."

"And would that be so bad?" she asked, perching on the edge of her seat. "The things you could do, Albus…"

"Yes, the things I could do…" he repeated, but while she had said it with hope, his words were accompanied by a dark scowl and a crease to his forehead.

Minerva's brow furrowed as well. "Albus, I don't understand what you're trying to say."

"I told you once that I could not share my reasons with you until such a time when I was no longer your teacher." He heaved a sigh. "I suppose that time has come."

She didn't know how to respond, so she merely watched as Albus rose from behind his desk and came over to sit in the armchair next to her.

"I will not accept this nomination to become Minister for Magic, nor will I ever accept it, because I do not trust myself in such a position of power."

Minerva blinked in confusion. "That… makes no sense."

"I assure you it does, because I believe that no one who truly wants such power is actually the right person to have it," Albus explained.

"But you don't want it!" Minerva burst out. "So that makes you perfect for the job then."

"Ah, but you see, I did want it. Once. I wanted that power, not just for me but for all witches and wizards. I wanted them not to live in hiding of Muggles but in control of them. And I wanted to seize that control, that power, for the greater good."

"No." Minerva shook her head. Surely, she had heard him wrong. Surely, he wasn't saying what she thought he must be saying. "That was him."

Albus looked pained. "No, it wasn't. He agreed with me, of course. Well, he didn't really care about justifying the violence to himself or others, not like I did, but he seemed to think that it made for a nice slogan anyway."

"You're telling me that you, who never discriminated against another living soul, wanted to force Muggles into servitude? People like my father, my…" Minerva couldn't even finish that sentence. She only stared at Albus, into the face of the man she had thought she knew so well by now, but who felt like a stranger to her in this moment.

"You need to understand that I was stuck in my childhood home with my ailing sister and a wayward brother. All my talents wasted, or so I thought at the time. And only because Muggles had hurt Ariana, because Muggles couldn't learn of her uncontrollable bursts of magic. Gellert's ideas, they would have freed me. I think it was that as much as his formidable personality that inflamed me."

In part, Minerva realised that Albus had tried to tell her this before. That she had simply assumed that the Grindelwald Albus had met as a young man must have not been as radical and prone to violence yet. Still, it felt as if Albus hadn't exactly gone out of his way to clarify how involved he had truly been with Grindelwald.

"Why didn't you tell me this earlier?" she asked, though it didn't really matter. She was merely trying to buy herself some time to think.

"As you can imagine, this is not something I like to talk about, or have in fact talked about with anyone, as I am deeply ashamed of it," Albus replied, his voice raw. "I'm prepared to own up to my mistakes, but I was not prepared to see you look at me the way you're looking at me now."

Minerva quickly dropped her gaze, which wouldn't make this any better for either one of them. But she didn't know what else to do.

When the bell rang, she flinched and jumped to her feet. "I need to get to class," she said and fled the room. Only when she was down the hall, did she remember that she didn't actually have a class to teach.

The news of the Minister's death broke the next morning. It caused the kind of panic that was to be expected, and it only worsened when Albus stayed true to his word and once again refused the post. His decision was hotly debated, with half of the British community applauding him, the other hating on him.

It made Minerva sick to her stomach that her reaction had been just as fast and unkind. But she figured that they would find time to talk when things had calmed down again for Albus and he was less beleaguered. After all, they had a standing arrangement now to meet up for a game of chess, Christmas or not.

Except, Albus didn't show up that evening. Annoyed at being stood up, Minerva went looking for him, but he wasn't in his office or the staff room and he hadn't informed anyone about having to leave for the Ministry. The only other option Minerva could think of was Hogsmeade. Even for a man who didn't drink much, this might be the week to make an exception.

So she decided to take a stroll down to the village to try her luck. She struck out at the Three Broomsticks, which only left the Hog's Head. Minerva had never gone in there, but she quickly realised that she should have. Because the man behind the bar looked at her with familiar bright blue eyes.

Another thing Albus had failed to mention, apparently. Increasingly annoyed, Minerva headed straight for the bartender. "I'm looking for Albus. Do you know where he is?"

Aberforth Dumbledore arched an eyebrow, not unlike his brother always did. "Sorry, haven't seen him."

With a huff, Minerva sank onto one of the barstools. She was officially out of ideas.

"So, are you getting a drink or what?" Aberforth asked gruffly.

"Fine, I'll have a Gillywater."

"Nah, you look like you could use something stronger." He reached for a bottle and put a glass of whisky in front of her.

Minerva stared at the bottle of Johnnie Walker. "How did you know that?"

"Know what?"

"That's my father's favourite drink – if he drinks. Did Albus talk to you about me?"

"My brother talk about someone else but him?" Aberforth snorted. "I don't think so."

"He did tell me about you," Minerva countered, not bothering to hide the challenge in her voice.

"Yeah? Had a lot of good things to say about me, did he?" Aberforth reached for another glass and poured a whisky for himself.

He tried to act nonchalant, but his eyelid twitched, and Minerva found that she had become accustomed to reading some of those Dumbledore mannerisms. "Actually, yes. He said that you opened his eyes to the truth. And even though you didn't find it in your heart to forgive him and to stand with him during the worst time of both of your lives, choosing to abandon him instead and to increase his pain, he said that you are in many ways the better man."

Aberforth paused with his glass halfway to his mouth, looking sceptical. "Albus said all that?"

"Well, not the middle part. That was me," Minerva told him straight up.

"Listen," said Aberforth, putting his glass back down on the counter. "You seem like a smart lady with a father who's got good taste in whisky, so let me give you some advice. Stop looking for my brother."

When Minerva met Aberforth's gaze across the bar, she noticed that his eyes weren't exactly the same as Albus' after all. They glittered with a coldness, where Minerva was used to pure warmth, and where Albus' eyes had a softness to them, Aberforth's eyes were hard. The blue was the same, though, and the pain. Clearly, neither brother had gotten over the loss of the sister.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because while you're here spending all your time and energy looking for him, do you know where he is?"

It was a rhetorical question, so Minerva only gave him an annoyed look, waiting for him to enlighten her.

"He is not looking for you in return," Aberforth said. His words were simple, but they couldn't have been more harsh. "And he won't. Because that's not who he is. He doesn't get attached to people like you or I do, only ideas and empty principles."

It took a moment for Minerva to stomach that. "I don't think you really know Albus anymore," she said, steel creeping into her voice.

At least, Aberforth didn't try to deny it. "And you think you do?"

"I know he's not the same man you're still holding on to," Minerva replied, and she realised the truth the moment she said it. "He's changed."

The look on Aberforth's face was one of pity, which rankled her immensely. "Then I hope for your sake that you'll be left standing when he changes again."

"I will," Minerva assured him and reached for her glass to down it in one.

She tried not to grimace when the whisky burned down her throat, but Aberforth grinned anyway.

"Well, bar is always open," he said.

Minerva glared at him and left, making her way back up to the castle. In the twilight, she almost missed the tall figure leaving the gamekeeper's cabin. Bemused, Minerva shook her head and hurried to catch up with him.

"Where were you?"

When Albus raised an eyebrow, it was hard not to think of Aberforth. "I just had a visit with Hagrid. He makes an excellent dandelion tea, but I wouldn't touch the cakes unless you have a tooth or two you're looking to part ways with."

Minerva didn't even bother to acknowledge that response. "I meant, where were you when you were supposed to play chess with me."

"I didn't think you wanted to see me," Albus replied in all seriousness.

"So you thought I would never talk to you again because you made a mistake when you were seventeen?" Minerva laughed humourlessly. "Then I would no longer be talking to a great many people, my own brothers included."

Albus, who had stopped when she had called out to him, slowly continued on his path to the front doors of the castle. "I highly doubt that your brothers' transgressions were of a similar or even remotely comparable nature."

"Of course not, because somehow everything you do is always twice as significant as what everybody else is doing. Twice as good and twice as bad."

"And twice as upsetting," Albus added.

Minerva sighed. "Yes, I admit I was upset. You know how much I hate the general lack of compassion among wizards for Muggles. It was hard for me to accept that you could have ever harboured those same thoughts. And I shudder to think what would have happened if you hadn't come to your senses."

"So do I."

Despite his occasional jokes to the contrary, Albus always seemed younger to her than he numbered in years because she could feel life and power pulse in his veins – and not only when he was doing his incredible magic. But in this moment in the semi-darkness, with his shoulders slumped and his eyes downcast, he looked ancient – not his body but his soul.

"But then I realised," Minerva continued quickly, "that I was doing the same thing that everyone else always does to you. Expecting you to be perfect, which I know you're not."

Albus lifted his eyes back up to meet hers. "I can assure you, Minerva, you cannot despise me more than I despise myself."

They had reached the front doors, but that was not why Minerva reached out for his hand to force him to a stop. "Oh, Albus, I'm saying that whatever you did when you were a grieving, angry seventeen-year-old has no bearing on how I feel about the man you are now."

"And how's that?" he asked.

All Minerva could see clearly in the dark was the light in his blue eyes, and she was very glad that it hadn't gone out the way it seemed to be missing from his brother. "Well, I suppose it's rather the opposite of how you're feeling about yourself."

For the first time in a couple of days it seemed, Albus' lips curled up into a smile. "I'll take that," he said and pushed open the front door. "Can I walk you back to your office?"

"No, you stood me up tonight and had me chasing you all over the place. You better come up with something other than a game of chess," Minerva replied, equal parts serious and amused.

Albus chuckled. "Understood."

A/N: I know the story about the fire in the Great Hall and the Ashwinders goes a little differently, but I took the liberty of using it in a way that fit my purposes better. Hope you don't mind. If you do, feel free to let me know. I love hearing from you and I want to thank you all for your reviews, especially those of you I can't respond to directly, all the guests and especially Viv! Thank you for your very, very kind words, and Viv, I one hundred percent agree with your interpretation of Albus' sexual orientation. In my mind, he falls in love with a person, not with a gender, since he is one of the least discriminatory characters in the Harry Potter universe.