A/N: I know, I'm evil. I had a bit of writer's block with this chapter, but it's obviously been taken care of. Enjoy.
Pleasantly full from dinner, Tracey watched as the students began to leave. Despite the lethargy that weighed her limbs down, her reflexes were still sharp enough to catch Albus when he collapsed, preventing him from hitting his head on the hard stone floor. She hardly heard Professor McGonagall sending the students off to bed as she cradled her father's head in her lap, studying his unconscious face anxiously. Poppy was at Albus' side in seconds, casting a Diagnosis Spell. The other staff members kept a respectful distance. When the last students had left the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall knelt opposite Poppy, dark eyes anxious. "Well, Poppy?"
"He's not dead, Minerva," Poppy told the gathered staff. A unanimous sigh of relief ruffled Tracey's hair. "I can't quite figure out what's wrong, though. Not a heart attack or a stroke, nor anything along those lines."
Tracey smoothed a stray lock of silver hair back from her father's lined forehead. "What about any poisons?"
Poppy sighed. "That's not my specialty." She looked up at the professors hovering nearby. "Severus?"
The sallow-skinned Potions Master stepped forward and waved his wand over the headmaster in a figure-eight pattern. A pale magenta glow suffused the aged body for a moment and Snape nodded to himself. "It's the Draught of the Living Death."
Looks were exchanged all around. "Who would be able to slip something like that into his goblet, though?"
"Is there an antidote?" Tracey asked softly, stroking Albus' hair.
"It will take me some time to brew it, but yes, there is one," Snape confirmed.
Her eyes were steely when she looked up at him. "I'll help you make it, Professor."
Snape stared down at her. There was no sign of joking or laughter in her eyes, just steely resolve. "We needed to review the antidote anyway, Miss Cooper."
She smiled tightly and helped Minerva lift the headmaster onto the floating stretcher Poppy had conjured up. "Yes, Professor."
* * *
The hospital wing was dim when a sleek silver tabby cat slipped through the door later that night. The cat slunk down the wing to the faculty ward and slipped inside. She jumped up onto a chair beside the only occupied bed, and then onto the bed itself. The cat stared intently at the unconscious wizard's face before curling up beside him. When Poppy slipped in to check on the wizard, she wasn't surprised to see the cat. She merely stroked the cat a few times before returning to her rooms. When a distant clock struck three, the cat stood, stretched, and left the hospital wing.
* * *
Two hours later found Tracey already in the dungeons, studying the sheet of instructions she'd found waiting for her. At the end was a note from Snape: _Miss Cooper, I will be brewing a batch of this myself, just as a precautionary measure. You have your father's gift for potions, as well as his gift for transfiguration. Good luck._
Taking a deep breath, Tracey began gathering all the ingredients she would need, determined to brew the antidote correctly. Once she'd gathered all of her ingredients, she began to prepare them, one by one. Finally, everything ready, she began to brew the potion. She followed each step carefully and meticulously, well aware that a slightest mistake could ruin the whole potion.
At long last, the only step that remained was to let the potion stew for several hours. Wiping the sweat from her forehead, she cast a charm to make the fire continue to burn at a steady heat for a certain length of time, and left the dungeons.
She arrived just as Professor McGonagall was tapping her glass with her spoon for silence. "Your attention, please?" Once all the students were silent, she spoke, "As you have probably guessed by now, Professor Dumbledore is ill. Efforts are being made to revive him even now. However, classes _will_ begin today." The students groaned and Tracey hid a smile. "The only visitors allowed to see the Headmaster are the staff. Thank you." McGonagall sat down and the students returned to their breakfasts.
Tracey made her way to the High Table and sank into her seat with a heavy sigh. "Well, Miss Cooper?"
Tracey looked across her father's empty seat into the worried eyes of the Deputy Headmistress. "The antidote is stewing right now, Professor," the older woman breathed a sigh of relief, "we should be able to administer it by lunchtime at the latest."
"Thank you, Miss Cooper." Professor McGonagall turned to her breakfast and began to eat. Taking her cue, Tracey began to eat as well. There wasn't much else they could do at the moment.
* * *
Minerva had to make a conscious effort to focus on teaching her classes that morning. Luckily, she hadn't planned much for the day, just quizzes for the older students to determine how much they had retained and small exercises for the younger students that served the same purpose. Tracey sat in on all of the classes, listening and watching patiently from a seat in the corner, much as Dolores had the previous year. Unlike Dolores, however, Tracey remained quiet and absorbed everything without a word. Half an hour before lunch, the young woman left the room and Minerva could only guess that she had gone down to the dungeons to check on the antidote.
When the bell finally rang, most of the students headed for the Great Hall, but three remained. "Professor?"
"Yes, Mr. Potter?" she asked, meeting his bright green eyes with her dark ones.
"Professor Dumbledore _will_ be all right, won't he?" Harry asked, a note of desperation in his voice.
Minerva studied him for a moment, and then both his companions, prefect badges gleaming scarlet and gold. "Yes, Mr. Potter, he will be fine. Professor Cooper has been working on a potion that will revive him."
Hermione frowned. "I thought her specialty was Transfiguration, Professor."
"A witch can excel in more than one field, Miss Granger," Minerva informed the girl. "Now, go to lunch, all three of you."
Reluctantly, they preceded the Transfiguration professor from the room. Minerva waited until they had turned the corner before turning and heading straight for the hospital wing, emerald green robes billowing behind her. When she reached the hospital wing, the door to the faculty ward was open and she could hear voices. When she entered, she found Poppy, Severus, Sarai, and Tracey gathered around Albus' bed. "Good, we're all here, then. Tracey?"
Swallowing hard, the young woman stepped forward and, while Poppy tilted Albus' head back, Tracey administered three drops of the potion. After a few tense moments that seemed to last for hours, Albus stirred. "Tracey? Minerva?"
"I'm here, Father." Tracey caught one of his hands.
"And me, Albus," Minerva added, gripping his other hand. None of the three noticed when Poppy shepherded the other two from the room. "You gave us quite a scare."
"What happened?" he asked, looking from one concerned face to the other. "Wasn't I in the Great Hall?"
"You collapsed right after you'd sent the students off to bed," Minerva told him, unwilling to release his hand. "Thanks to Miss Cooper's fast reflexes, you didn't hit your head when you fell."
Albus turned his head on the pillow to smile at his daughter, who had tears of relief streaming down her cheeks. "Thank you, Tracey."
"You're welcome, Father," she replied, freeing one of her hands to pull a handkerchief out of her pocket.
As she mopped her face, Minerva continued. "You'd been poisoned with the Draught of Living Death. Miss Cooper insisted on brewing the antidote."
Albus smiled at his daughter once more. "Thank you, again, Tracey."
The tears started streaming down her cheeks once more. "You're my father. I couldn't risk losing you."
"I know," Albus settled back against his pillows.
Minerva squeezed his hand before standing up. "I need to address the students now. You may stay with him if you wish, Miss Cooper."
"Thanks, Professor." Tracey swiped at her tears as Minerva turned to leave.
"Minerva?" She stopped at the doorway and half-turned so she could see him. "Tell the students I will see them at dinner."
"And if Poppy says you won't be allowed?" Minerva asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I'll still be at dinner." He smiled at her, blue eyes twinkling merrily.
Minerva nodded and left. When she arrived in the Great Hall, utter silence fell and she could feel everyone's eyes on her as she made her way to the High Table. Once she was standing by her seat, she addressed the students. "Professor Dumbledore has regained consciousness." The students cheered and Minerva was thankful they cared so much for Albus. "He will make a full recovery and has informed me that he has every intention of being at dinner tonight."
As the students resumed eating, Poppy got up and intercepted Minerva before she could leave the Great Hall. "What if I won't allow him?"
Minerva gave the other woman a half-smile. "He'll come anyway. You might as well allow it, Poppy, his mind's made up."
The medi-witch nodded and returned to her meal. Minerva sighed and left the Great Hall.
* * *
Conversation in the Great Hall during dinner was muted and subdued. A majority of the students were worried about their Headmaster and those who weren't had the presence of mind not to show it. At the Gryffindor table, Harry was the quietest of the lot. Despite the fact that he'd been angry with Dumbledore for not telling him about the prophecy sooner, he still looked up to the wizard. Dumbledore was a sort of grandfather to Harry and the boy would hate to lose him. He sighed and pushed his food around on his plate aimlessly. He really didn't have much of an appetite.
"Harry," Ginny jogged his elbow, "look over at the doors."
The boy did as she suggested and brightened up. Dumbledore, wearing midnight blue robes embroidered with silver moons and stars stood framed in the doorway, with McGonagall, in emerald green, standing on his right and Professor Cooper, in robes of aquamarine, on his left. As the three professors made their way to the High Table, applause swept the Great Hall. Dumbledore moved a tad more slowly than usual, but he didn't falter. He even held McGonagall's and Professor Cooper's chairs for them before holding up his hands to stop the applause. "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. Your concern is very much appreciated, as well as the get-well cards and gifts I have received."
And, with that, Dumbledore sat down. Harry's appetite suddenly decided to put in an appearance and the boy began to eat with gusto. He was almost finished when someone tapped him on his shoulder. "Mr. Potter?"
He turned and looked straight into Professor Cooper's eyes. "Yes, Professor?"
"Professor Dumbledore would like to see you in his office after dinner," she told him, bright blue eyes reminiscent of Dumbledore. "The password is 'strawberry laces.'"
"Thank you, Professor," Harry replied.
"You're welcome, Mr. Potter." She nodded to him and returned to the High Table.
* * *
"Albus, are you sure you're up to this?" Minerva asked, studying his face with concern. "You were unconscious for over twelve hours, after all."
He smiled and took her hand in his. "I'm fine, Minerva. Don't worry about me."
She sighed and squeezed his hand. "Very well. I need to speak with Miss Cooper anyway."
Albus nodded and watched her leave. He leaned back in his chair with a sigh. If truth were told, he _was_ a little exhausted. However, there was work that needed to be done and it could not be delayed much longer.
At that moment, someone knocked on the door to his office. Albus waved his hand and the door opened. Harry entered. "You wanted to see me, Professor?"
"Yes, Harry." Albus indicated the seat across from him. "Why don't you have a seat?"
The teenager crossed the room and sat down, looking around. The memory of the boy's last visit was indelibly etched into the headmaster's memory. Every shout, every crash, every accusation was a painful reminder of his own shortcomings. Albus firmly pushed those memories aside and focused on the boy in front of him. Harry's face was paler than usual and thinner than Albus would have liked, but that couldn't be helped. "Why did you want to see me, Sir?"
Albus sighed and folded his hands together on top of his desk. "I realize now that having Professor Snape teach you Occlumency wasn't the best idea in the world. Your mutual dislike--" Harry rolled his eyes, but Albus continued. "--for each other is too large an obstacle for either of you to overcome. Therefore, I will be instructing you."
Harry's bright green eyes widened. "Are you sure, Professor? As you said, it might open you to an attack from Voldemort."
Albus smiled. "We don't have much of a choice, Harry."
The boy nodded, his eyes far too old for him. "I understand, Sir. When will we start?"
"Next week," Albus told him. "We'll meet here at seven o' clock every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday."
"Yes, Sir." Harry stood up to leave.
He was at the door when Albus spoke again. "And Harry?"
He turned back. "Yes, Professor?"
"Don't forget to clear your mind before you go to sleep every night."
"Yes, Sir." Harry left.
* * *
When Tracey opened her door to Minerva's knock, the Head of Gryffindor felt as if she was looking at a younger, female Albus Dumbledore wearing a light blue terry cloth dressing gown. "Hello, Professor."
"Hello, Miss Cooper. May I come in?" Minerva replied.
"Oh, sure." Tracey opened the door wider and stepped aside.
Minerva swept past her into the sitting room. The furnishings had been changed to reflect Tracey's tastes. The maple pieces gleamed in the firelight and the navy and maroon cloth leant warmth to the room. "What did you think of today?"
Tracey flopped onto the couch in front of the fire, tucking her legs up underneath her. "A little stressful."
Minerva smiled and sat down at the other end of the couch from the younger woman. "I would imagine so. Congratulations on brewing the antidote properly."
"Thanks." Tracey's cheeks flushed. "It wasn't that hard, but it was a little nerve-wracking."
"Because it was for Albus?" Minerva asked.
Tracey nodded. "Yeah. Oh, I'm sorry, did you want something to drink?"
"Tea will be fine," Minerva replied. Tracey waved her wand and a cup of tea appeared in mid-air between them. Minerva plucked it and took a sip. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." Tracey had conjured up cup of tea for herself. She took a sip and frowned. "I don't think I'll ever understand what's so wonderful about this stuff." Another wave of her wand and her tea had changed to hot cocoa. "Ah, much better."
Minerva smiled and sipped at her tea. "I expect you to be able to sit in on classes for the rest of this week, however. You won't be able to help me if you're spending all your time with Albus."
Tracey nodded and swallowed the sip of her cocoa she'd taken. "I understand. Today was a one-time thing."
"Well, for the time-being, anyway," Minerva commented, draining her cup and setting it on the low table in front of the couch.
Tracey stared at her. "What do you mean, Professor?"
Minerva sighed. "I'm afraid whoever managed to slip the Draught of Living Death into Albus' drink last night will make another attempt on his life."
Tracey sighed in response and set her cup on the low table as well. "I'm afraid you're right." She stood and began to pace the room, once again reminding Minerva of a caged lion--lioness. "Do you think I'm sufficiently advanced in Transfiguration to attempt the Animagus transformation?"
Minerva watched the younger woman for a moment. "At the risk of giving you a swelled head, I thought so after a month of training."
Tracey stopped and stared at Minerva. "Are you serious?"
Minerva nodded. "Absolutely."
A broad smile appeared on her face. "Wow."
"Incidentally, why do you ask?" Minerva decided it was time to get back on track.
Tracey sobered. "I have a feeling it might come in handy."
"I have a feeling you're right."
* * *
When Tracey woke up the next morning, she found a stack of books sitting on her night table, along with a note. After slipping her glasses on, she read the note:
Miss Cooper,
These books are to help you get started on the Animagus transformation. The only time you will be allowed to read them is in the evenings. And this project is only between you and I. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask.
Prof. M. McGonagall