"I don't believe in an interventionist God,
but I know, darling, that you do,
But if I did, I would kneel down and ask Him
not to intervene when it came to you
Oh, not to touch a hair on your head,
To leave you as you are
And if He felt He had to direct you,
then direct you into my arms"
-- Nick Cave, "Into My Arms"
July 31, 1971
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
There she was. Albus Dumbledore's heart skipped a beat.
"Hello, Professor," she said in her thick drawl, dark eyes shining up at him without the slightest recognition. He slumped back into his seat, utterly lost for words.
"Well?" Roland asked.
He scratched his head, and the tiny girl watched him so intently it bordered on intimidation. She feigned politeness, but he was quite certain she knew what was at stake. "The Ministry will not be easily convinced."
"You'd have me take her back?" Roland asked, arching one steel gray eyebrow. He caressed her shoulder reassuringly, but she never broke eye contact with Dumbledore, and he, likewise, could not take his eyes off her.
"Not for all the wealth in the world, Chancellor Wainwright."
Those dark eyes lit up, but she remained silent, reserved, and hopeful with a grace beyond her eleven years. Dumbledore stood, ruffled her hair as he passed, and led Roland just out of earshot. "She is an orphan," he whispered. "Is her name given, or was she born with it?"
"Renard is her adopted family's name. They took her in as an infant and named her Emmeline. She's the real thing. I'd vouch for it myself if the sight of her wasn't enough."
"Her family... Were they wizarding folk?"
"No," Roland replied haltingly, and after some pause, continued, "You know how it works in America. Everyone practices some sort of hedge magic or parlor tricks. Her family is Creole, and they've dabbled in voodoo for decades, but nothing near her level. They have no contact with the wizarding world, and even now they think she's up for a scholarship at some British boarding school. I wouldn't dare tell them the truth before I brought her to you. They couldn't possibly know about that name."
She watched them anxiously, and if she overheard any part of their conversation, she made no sign of overt concern. However, Dumbledore had little doubt this shrewd girl was aware her fate rested on his decision. He knew enough to realize his own rested on the same.
"Take her to Professor Wilde," he commanded, regaining his composure before pulling a quill and parchment from his desk. "She'll set up temporary lodging for the girl. Meanwhile, I've an appointment to make at the Ministry."
Her poker face broke into a wide grin, and she laughed. "Thank you, Professor," she breathed, restrained. Roland took her by the shoulder, and, with a reassuring glance back at Dumbledore, did as he requested.
* * * *
Merrill Haverland, Britain's latest Minister of Magic, staunchly refused to hear Dumbledore's request. "You've evidently forgotten we're in over our heads with this Voldemort character. You've already got Slytherin's heir working on the grounds. Are you trying to bait this dark wave to Hogwarts with every conceivable temptation?"
Dumbledore answered calmly, "There's no end to what a dark wizard could do if he swayed a witch this powerful to his cause. She has to be someplace where she can be looked after."
"There are fine schools in America."
"They'll have no part of her."
"For good reason!" Red faced, Minister Haverland rose to his feet. "Have you ever *fought* a witch like this, Albus?"
"Yes."
That seemed to steal the Minister's momentum. He leaned back, paused, then continued, "I don't understand why you want this. You've turned away students half as dangerous."
"Emmeline is too easy a target and would make too dangerous a foe. I much prefer she join our side, and I intend to take on her training personally."
Haverland seemed to realize he was fighting a losing battle. "She hasn't got any money. Her family, if it can be called that, is as poor as they come."
Dumbledore's eyes flashed for a moment, but he answered steadily, "Her tuition will not be a problem."
Laughing aloud, "You may coerce me into allowing the girl to stay, but you'll never convince Hogwarts' board to foot her bill."
"I will finance her education myself in full for all seven years before she starts her first day."
Haverland was speechless. After a long, awkward silence, he shook his head. "You're mad, Dumbledore. Positively insane. There are less expensive ways to commit suicide."
"Sigh the paper, Haverland."
What could he say to that? With a heavy sigh and the swish of his quill, Emmeline Renard's future was assured.