Peripheral characters were created by me, but all recognizable names and ideas belong to J.K. Rowling. A few historical figures also appear; they obviously belong to themselves.

Chapter Nine: The Legacy of the Garden

Rubeus Hagrid walked up the small hill that led to the Dumbledores' cottage. He pushed open the gate, crossed the cobblestone path and knocked on the front door.

"Go away," said a voice from inside.

"Please, Professor Dumbledore, it's Hagrid. I'm back from London. Please open the door."

Hagrid was worried about Albus Dumbledore, and with good reason. Upon returning to Hogsmeade after Mireille's death, he had shut himself in the cottage and refused to come out. He had gone into her dispensary and found the bottles she had been labelling when Grindelwald had kidnapped her. He threw them methodically against the wall; they broke open with a crash and the bitter wormwood potion had run down the wall and puddled onto the floor around the broken glass.

Dippett found a substitute Transfiguration teacher and had the Hogwarts house-elves bring Albus three meals a day. They were brought back largely untouched. The house-elves tried to do a bit of cleaning once a week as well, but Albus growled at them so horribly that they were terrified, and a different one had to be convinced to go each week.

The story of Grindelwald's plan for domination, and his defeat by Albus Dumbledore, had been front-page news in the Daily Prophet, and was the hot topic wherever wizards were gathered for weeks afterward. In March, the International Confederation of Wizards had voted unanimously to award Albus the Order of Merlin, First Class. A suitably solemn ceremony had been arranged, and an equally raucous celebration was planned for afterwards. Albus didn't show up for either--a source of much embarassment for the Confederation and the Wizard War Council.

V-E Day had come and gone. While the rest of Hogsmeade was setting off Filibusters Fireworks and dancing jubilantly in the streets, Albus had gone into Mireille's store-rooms and broken all the remaining jars he found there. A month had gone by since then; upon completing his apprenticeship year with Madame Fauve, Hagrid had returned to Hogwarts and was alarmed to hear the tales about his former teacher and the man he admired above all others.

Now he knocked again. "Professor--please open th' door. If yeh don't, I'm going ter break it down and come it anyway." He knew that Albus might very well send him sailing out of the cottage and across the fields with one well-aimed wave of his wand, but he was prepared to take that chance.

There was no answer from within. "Right," said Hagrid grimly. He set his shoulder to the door and heaved. The door collapsed inward. Hagrid entered and looked around the gloomy parlor.

Albus looked terrible. A trim man to begin with, he had lost about thirty pounds, and appeared gaunt and haggard. His skin was pasty and wan; his beard and hair were untrimmed, unwashed and matted. He was staring at the wall. He didn't look up as Hagrid crossed the room.

Hagrid knelt down in front of him. What could he say? He knew he was no good with words; best to say what he felt and not beat around the bush.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir--we all loved her, yeh know."

Albus said nothing. Hagrid stumbled on, trying to find his way.

"It's true. She was a woman in a million, and it's a damn shame about what happened. But do yeh think she'd want ter see yeh like this? Moping and dragging about, not teaching yer classes? Not eatin'? Not even goin' outside fer a bit o' fresh air?"

Albus still wouldn't meet his eyes, but his head swung up toward the ceiling as though something fascinating there had suddenly caught his attention.

"Professor, think of all the lives yeh saved! She died for somethin' good!" cried Hagrid. "An' yer making a mockery of her death by sittin' around wishin' you was dead too."

For the first time, Albus looked him full in the face. The depth of the bitterness there frightened Hagrid half to death, but he made himself look back.

"Yes, all those lives saved," said Albus. "At the cost of the two lives that were dearest to me in the world." He put his head into his hands and rubbed his face wearily, then faced Hagrid again.

"She's gone, Rubeus. Dead and gone and nothing will ever bring her back. And I can't much see the point of going on without her."

Hagrid suddenly had an idea. "Professor, come outside with me fer jes' a minute. I want ter show yeh summat."

Albus shook his head, but Hagrid pleaded with him. "Please, Professor, jes' fer a minute. If yeh do it, I'll go away and leave yeh alone, but if yeh don't, I'm goin' ter stand here and nag yeh until yeh either do it or throw me out."

Hagrid always suspected that it was the promise of being left alone again that made Albus Dumbledore rise from his chair and walk to the door, but it didn't matter, really.

"All right," he said. "What is it, Rubeus?"

Hagrid took him by the hand and led him a few paces into the garden. "Look, Professor. She's right here, all around yeh."

Albus blinked in the bright sunshine of the June afternoon and looked around. Mireille's garden, dormant and frost-covered when he had bolted the door of the cottage in February, was a riot of color and a feast of fragrance. The low hum of bees filled in the air as they hovered about the golden stamens of the pink apothecary's rose spreading along the wooden fence. The heady scent of the tall stalks of valerian mingled with the aromatic peppermint that thrust its stems aggressively along the walk. Creamy-colored foxglove blossoms, with their spotted throats, nodded and swayed gently in the breeze, towering over broad green leaves of comfrey plants. The cheerful yellow flowers of the St. John's wort stood over a row of lavender plants in full bloom, their purple-topped stems pushing up through the silvery foliage.

Hagrid was right; Mireille was here, all around him. How many countless mint teabags had she prepared to soothe the stomachs of Hogwarts students who'd eaten too many Honeydukes sweets; how many bottles of valerian syrup to help them sleep when they were homesick? How many small children in Hogsmeade had run to her to get a bit of yarrow powder for a skinned knee? How many times had she left at a moment's notice to go help the village midwife, carrying a bag full of cohosh, raspberry leaves and shepherd's purse? He remembered the feel of her crawling into bed in the early morning hours, snuggling against his sleepy warmth, exhausted but elated at having helped bring a new baby into the world.

Tears started in his eyes, but for the first time since her death, the tears were only bittersweet instead of galling. The goodness of her life, like her garden, was a living thing still, in the minds and hearts of everyone who had known and loved her.

"I got summat for yeh, Professor," said Hagrid gruffly. He was close to crying himself, standing here in Mireille's garden. He took Albus's hand, opened it, and pressed a small something into it.

Albus looked down. It was the little silver queen. He looked at it, astonished. He had forgotten all about it.

"Where did you get this?" he asked.

"They still had it at St. Mungo's. Yeh left so quick, they didn't have a chance to give it to yeh. They tried ter send it by owl, but all the owls got returned. I was there a coupl'a months ago, and the doctor remembered that I was with yeh, and asked me if I'd give it back to yeh."

"Oh," said Albus. He looked at it. It was tarnished, and he rubbed it thoughtfully with his thumb. Then, "What were you doing at St. Mungo's? Were you sick?"

"Nah, not really. What happened was, I went to Gringott's to put the Stone back, like you asked me while we was waitin' at the hospital that day--" he swallowed quickly and went on. "Anyway, while I was in that cart, I saw some fire around a corner and thought it might be a dragon. I'd always wanted ter to see one, so I kinda jumped off the cart and went in that direction."

"And was it a dragon?" The corners of Albus's mouth lifted ever so slightly.

"Yeah, it was! A big, gorgeous Antipodean Opaleye! You shoulda seen it, Professor, I never saw anythin' so beautiful in all me life--anyway, the poor thing looked so lonely, jes' sittin' there, stuck in that tunnel with nobody ter talk to it or love it. I went up to give it a pet, and I guess I musta startled it, because it let out a blast o' flame that burned me hair and beard and robe off. It didn't mean any harm," he added hastily. "I could tell it wanted to make friends with me, if only the goblins hadn't found me and made me leave right then. I was still talkin' to it as they was draggin' me away, and I tell yeh, it was right wistful that I was leavin'." He sniffed loudly. "The goblins had to put a sleep spell on it because it was bellowin' and belchin' fire and tryin' its best to get through the tunnel an' follow me home."

The small smile that had been pulling up the corners of Albus's mouth turned into a broad grin. Suddenly he began to chuckle, and the chuckle turned into a belly laugh. He sat down suddenly on a little bench next to a stand of irises, and laughed helplessly until the tears were streaming down his cheeks. Hagrid looked confused for a moment, then he started laughing too.

At last, Albus wiped his eyes and turned to look at Hagrid. "Rubeus, I wonder if you would do something for me."

"Anythin', Professor," said Hagrid. He didn't know quite what he had done, but he had the feeling he had done something right, and he beamed happily.

"Would you go inside and draw me a bath?" said Albus. "And after I've cleaned up a bit, I wonder if you would care to walk up to the Three Broomsticks with me? I'd like to buy you an ale or six to celebrate your return to Hogwarts."

"O' course, Professor," replied Hagrid joyfully. "It'd be my pleasure."

He went into the cottage. Albus sat on the bench, gazing at the garden and breathing in the smell of summer. He heard the water filling the tub inside the cottage. He reached down, pulled a leaf from a peppermint plant and chewed it slowly, waiting for Hagrid to come and tell him that his bath was ready.