Chapter Six

December 26th, 1944



Minerva was curled up in a comfortable chair in the Gryffindor common room, reading an excellent book on Animagus transformations to supplement her extensive course work. This was the perfect way to spend the holidays in her opinion, though many of her friends, who were outdoors in the snow, building snowmen and having snowball fights, adamantly disagreed with her and rued Minerva's studious streak. This was especially true of Agatha Sprout and Trudy Weasley, who had plans to build an igloo near the lake, with some special magical assistance that they had hoped Minerva would provide.

"Minerva, Professor Dumbledore wants to see you in his office." she heard Daniel Vector call from the portrait hole.

She looked up from her book to see him brushing snow from his robes.

"About what?" she questioned, marking her place and leaving her chair.

"He didn't say." shrugged Vector.

"All right then." she nodded, walking toward the portrait hole.

"If he tells you anything about the war, you will tell the rest of us, right?" questioned Daniel as he paused at the stairs leading to his dormitory.

"Curious, Daniel? I thought you were rather insistent that it isn't our concern." said Minerva before stepping through the portrait hole and making her way to Dumbledore's office.


A house elf was just leaving a tray of tea and scones with the professor when he invited Minerva into the office, which was a cozy room that was very similar to the Gryffindor common room, only smaller and quieter. Minerva had a seat in a chair by the fire, her usual seat when she visited the office, which was quite frequently in recent years due to her extensive training in transfigurations. Dumbledore poured the drinks and joined her in a matching chair. He regarded her coolly as they began drinking their tea.

"You look quite well this afternoon." Minerva commented, noticing that the bruises were gone and he no longer favored any of his limbs. Madam Plummer had certainly taken proper care of him.

"And you look quite lovely in those new robes. They bring out the color in your eyes quite nicely. A Christmas gift, I presume?" he said.

Minerva nearly choked on her tea to her host's lasting amusement.

"Yes, from my parents." she managed weakly.

"They have excellent taste." he chuckled.

"Thank you, professor."

"I suppose after last evening's excitement you must be a bit more reticent to hear about the situation on the continent." he said.

"Actually, quite to the contrary. The war against Grindelwald is no longer just their situation, is it? One of my professors has been terrorized by the Dark Wizard. How much closer to home can this get?" questioned Minerva with a dry laugh.

When Dumbledore looked at her, a fierce pride shone in his blue eyes. He had perhaps expected Minerva to hesitate. She was not made of stone or steel. The idea of what Grindelwald was capable of doing to even the least of opponents would have rattled every student he could think of, except perhaps the undauntable Tom Riddle of Slytherin house. But Minerva was still willing to learn more instead of hiding in ignorance as many witches and wizards were doing, especially those at the Ministry who counseled against involvement in the war against Grindelwald.

"You are correct in your assertions. The conflict is beginning to affect more of us here than it did a year or two ago."

"Then something will be done?"

Dumbledore took a deep breath and answered, "I do not know for sure. The Ministry is made up of an indecisive group of people who remember the horrors of the last wizarding war all too vividly. But the time to strike is coming. Either it will be soon or never. They say that Grindelwald is ..."

"Insane?"

"He is going mad." Dumbledore nodded. "And who knows what he might order his followers to do, supposing that he does not kill them all himself in his madness."

"You sound as though you pity them."

"I do, but then, I've seen them, Minerva. Do you know how old some of them are?" he questioned.

"Young?"

"Fourteen. The French Aurors caught a fourteen-year-old casting killing curses just a few nights ago. Most are older, sixteen and seventeen, and there are seasoned wizards and witches who support him, but it is the young ones the cause the most pain, suffering, and havoc." answered Dumbledore.

"That's why you don't want us, students, that is, involved." said Minerva, shivering as she pictured what some of the younger Slytherins could do if they went on a rampage.

"In part." he nodded.

"What else did you see in France, professor?"

"Albus. You may call by my first name. If we are to speak of such things, I believe that I would greatly prefer it."

"Very well."

"The French Minister of Magic emptied Beauxbatons of students some months ago because its location had become known to the Dark Wizards. They would have attacked en masse and soon. He thought the students would stand a better chance with their families. As you can image, Grindelwald wasted no time in his search for those of mixed blood and muggle parentage." Dumbledore paused and let his words sink in.

"I traveled across the country with groups of Aurors, most of whom have had too little training as there are few seasoned Aurors left in France these days. We went from village to village mostly among wizarding folk, making lists of those who had been killed and seeing that some semblance of order is being kept, that graves are being dug and marked. Because none of those children and none of their parents are left alive any longer. Grindelwald found every last muggle-born child in France who had succeeded in gaining entrance to Beauxbatons. Not nearly so many as we have here, but very many to die such horrible deaths."

"But how did he find them?"

"Grindelwald has many spies. Other children, purebloods raised with certain woefully incorrect ideas, who might have passed the information along. Their parents, of course. Or perhaps, and this I don't even like to consider, some of their own teachers.

"There was a village near the border between France and Germany. The muggle war had passed through it sometime earlier, devastating the place, but the wizarding community in the village had been left largely intact thanks to some effort by a family of mixed blood. When we arrived, that family was dead, but all of their pureblooded neighbors had been spared. Someone in that village had to be working with Grindelwald, though we could not discover who, although one of the Aurors suspected a recently retired professor who lived in the village. It was the most unconscionable example of treachery I had ever seen." said Dumbledore, leaning forward in his chair and clasping his hands together. Minerva could see the anger in his eyes.

"Was that where you were injured?" she inquired after a long moment of silence.

He glanced up at her and shook his head.

"Actually, that had little to do with the wizarding war. One of the Aurors stepped on a land mine. That's an exploding thing in the ground that muggle armies leave behind to slow down their enemies. I was about ten feet behind him. It was like a blasting curse. I landed hard on my ankle. But what it did to the Auror ..." he said, trailing off and shaking his head again.

"Did you know him very well?"

"Henri? No, I cannot say that I did. He was seventeen. He had quit Beauxbatons to become an Auror. That's almost everything I knew about the young man. Philip said that he had passed the certification tests with flying colors."

"Albus, what are we going to do? I know you say that I'm too young to help you in anyway, but I feel like something must be done."

"Don't be foolish, Minerva. Things are being done. I'm not the only one who goes over there to provide assistance, you know. There are English Aurors over there without permission and less qualified witches and wizards too. Mediwitches and wizards, Quidditch players, broom salesmen, and all manner of folk are taking an interest. People are slowly realizing that as you put it, 'something must be done'. The only problem is unity of purpose and effort, which the Ministry should provide for us and simply isn't." he explained. Then he smiled at her and added, "And you are, of course, doing something very important."

"What?"

"Listening, Minerva. I feel much stronger and more determined now than when you first came in this afternoon. And, therefore, when I return to the battlefields in a few days, I will be of more use to my fellow combatants, if I might count myself among their ranks." Albus told her, patting her knee as he stood.

Minerva blushed at his words, which were wholly unexpected.

"I'm glad to have been of some service." she managed.

Albus laughed and said, "You have been of a great of service, Minerva. I don't know what I would do without you. Perhaps I would talk to myself or something." Then he grew somber as she left her seat. "And you were also of some help last night. He will never thank you, I dare say, but I will do so in his place. Thank you, Minerva, for assisting Professor Krohn. I am extremely grateful."

Minerva looked at him and frowned as she asked, "He mentioned what happened outside the Great Hall?"

"No." Albus replied simply. "I believe you should return to your studies now. I have some paperwork that I must catch up." he told her, leaving more than a few questions unanswered.

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A/N: I'm not suggesting that a 14-year-old could do Avada Kedavra (unless no one has a problem with that; after all if a wizarding adolescent were schooled in the Dark Arts for years and years, why not?), but rather that there must be other killing curses (unless that violates canon, in which case ... tell me).


Isis Malfoy: There's a little bit of fluffiness in almost any fan fiction. You just have look for it. I have trouble (when I write) keeping time linear, so I labeled the chapters that way as I was writing to help me out. I just left them like that when I was finished. I'm glad you liked them. Thank you for reviewing!

Child-of-the-Dawn: Thanks for the review!

MK: I think I answered your question within the chapter. Thanks for reviewing!

darkfire: Okay! Thank you for reviewing!