DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the content referenced/quoted. Warning for swearing.
...
The Professor
Dumbledore is very different from what Em expected. The older wizard sits across from her in a neatly tailored suit and a trimmed beard, eyes twinkling from behind a strangely fashionable set of half-moon glasses. A purple silk scarf is wrapped around his neck, and Em can see brightly coloured socks peeking out from underneath the cut of his trouser legs.
When she sits down opposite him, he greets her with a warm smile and a surprisingly steely gaze.
"Miss Withers."
"Dumbledore, sir, it's a pleasure to finally meet you," she smiles.
"And you, my dear, I have heard a great deal about you from your sister," Dumbledore replies, "But please, call me Albus."
He sneakily taps one ear and she nods quickly. There are eyes and ears everywhere, even in the heart of a small Muggle village.
"I was quite surprised to receive your letter from our mutual acquaintance," he says. "From everything your sister has said of late, it sounded as if she wanted to keep you out of our plans as much as possible."
"My sister is hardly at home these days and therefore has no say in anything I do," she replies pointedly.
"I see."
But did he see? Em can't help but wonder how the great Albus Dumbledore would understand her predicament. She is a powerless muggle trapped in a wizarding war, in a world that has no love for her magicless hand.
And yet.
"You have shown a great deal of bravery in contacting me, Miss Withers."
Em looks up at Dumble-Albus. She'd heard great tales of the wizard before she had decided to write to him, of his power, of his wisdom. But no one ever spoke of the pain that lingers in the depths of his eyes, how it makes his face appear so weary, old. This is a man who had hoped not to see war again, that much was clear to her.
"What exactly are you proposing?"
She ponders his question for a moment.
"I want to help in any way I can," she says. "You send my sister and those boys off to war, but you're not the one patching them up when they come home broken and bleeding. You don't have to watch them suffer through nightmares, no offence, sir."
"None taken."
"Sirius told me that one of your safe houses was raided last month, and that you're in need of another," Em says quietly. "I'd like to offer up one for consideration."
Albus shakes his head, "I'm afraid your flat above your shop is too well known, Miss Withers."
"Not that one," she says, "another one."
Albus steeples his hand under his chin, "Go on."
"My father left my sister and I property in Edinburgh, and it's currently lying unused. It is still in his name, even though the property passed over to us following his death. A muggle house, in a muggle neighbourhood, under a muggle name. Hidden, unknown," Em explains. "Somewhere safe."
The wizard contemplates her words.
"This is about Remus Lupin."
Em tries not to wince at his words. The boy managed to get a missive through a month and a half ago, but silence quickly fell again after that. She doesn't know what exactly this man asked of Remus, but she worries about how much he is missing.
"In a way, I suppose," she says. "Were I not a muggle with no magic at her disposal, I probably would have had a cross word with you about how often the boys are sent out, about how exhaustion could lead to mistakes and how in this war, mistakes could lead to death."
Em pauses, "But I'm not a witch or a wizard, Albus, nor am I fully aware of any of the goings-on of your order. So I'll settle for reminding you that we may look like adults, act like adults, speak like them, but we are still all teenagers."
"You presume-"
"I presume nothing, Albus, because I know nothing," she says.
He does not comment, just regards her over those half-moon glasses of his. She sips her tea, sets the mug carefully down on the table between them. Around them, customers laugh as children duck in and round tables, chairs and shopping bags strewn in the aisles. They are an island of silence in a sea of chatter.
Until-
"I believe you know far more than you're letting on, Miss Withers," he says finally. Remus should be home by the end of the month. I have reached out to others, I am hoping that once our ranks are large enough that it will be easier to spread out shifts and watches, although your offer of your father's home would indeed be greatly beneficial in doing this."
He pauses, "Believe me when I say that this is not something I ever wished to live through again. But I can promise I will do what I can to keep them safe."
She exhales heavily, "Thank you."
"I will also do whatever I can to win this war," he finishes.
Silence falls again as they each sip their tea, listening to the world turning around them. Em wonders if the others have ever seen this side of their professor. The steely glint in his eyes, the man ready to sacrifice what he can to end a war quickly, and she thinks that whatever the last war cost him must have been incredibly great.
Deep down Em fears that one day all of her loved ones will have the same look in their eyes.