Phoenix
The two wizards continued talking. As he exchanged words with the wizard before him, Gandalf wondered if that was Minerva McGonagall's husband and what had happened to put the straight-backed witch into the need of a walking stick. Then he admonished himself for letting his mind wander. Before he thought any more about the witch, he had to convince the powerful wizard in front of him that he meant well.
'What is your name?' Albus asked.
'I am Gandalf the White, servant of the Secret Fire and wielder of the flame of Anor, once Bearer of Narya the Great, one of the three Elven Rings, also known as Mithrandir and the White Rider. Who asks?'
'Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Member of the Order of Merlin-' Albus Dumbledore broke off his enumeration and suddenly changed tack completely. 'Ah, but I have just realised that you must be tired after your swift journey from Azkaban! Please be seated.' Then, taking some toffees from his desk, he presented them to Gandalf. 'Lemon drop?'
Considering it a peace offer, Gandalf accepted. Albus popped one of the sweets into his own mouth and sat down too. Minerva McGonagall was already seated and was watching the proceedings with a detached air. Dumbledore offered her no lemon drop, he seemed to know she did not approve of them.
With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore now also conjured up some tea, a cup for each of them, a bowl of sugar and a jug of milk. This Dumbledore really knew how to make serious discussions as comfortable as possible, Gandalf decided, sipping at his tea and stealing a look at Minerva McGonagall, who was just then adding some milk to her beverage.
'So, you said you have much to do with fire?' Dumbledore chuckled softly. 'I see know, why Fawkes did not object to your company.'
'Fawkes?' Gandalf inquired.
Dumbledore motioned to the beautiful bird with feathers the colour of fire, which had been in the office all this time and seemed to listen very intently to what was being said. Now it cocked its head to meet Gandalf's eye, ruffling its feathers a bit. Dumbledore chuckled again.
'Fawkes is never wrong, so much I have learned during the long years he has kept me company. Still, my curiosity is by no means satisfied, nor is that of Minerva, I am sure. Pray, tell us more about you.'
And so it came that they passed that afternoon together, Gandalf telling his story and describing them what the world had been like many thousands of years ago, when elves still roamed the lands, dwarves delved in the mountains, ents walked the forests and hobbits, orcs, oliphaunts and uruk- hai wandered on its plains and in its forests, and the Great War of the Ring was fought, till it was finally won at Minas Tirith.
The tale lasted long into the night, and the moon was setting again already when he finally came to an end. His two hearers seemed very pleased with the story and appeared to be just as astonished as he was when they discovered how far the night had advanced. Minerva McGonagall offered to show Gandalf his room, and so they left Dumbledore's office together, wishing him good night.
She then led him at an exceedingly swift pace along the corridors of the castle. The walking stick seemed to be superfluous, for she only tapped it lightly at the stone flags beneath their feet. As soon as he had come to this conclusion, however, he witnessed her battle with a strong wave of pain.
Her knuckles turned white as she clutched the stick, leaning very heavily onto it, her other hand gripping the robes at her throat spasmodically. Before he could move to help her, however, she had recovered. A faint smile appeared on her features when she saw his troubled look.
'No need to worry, Mr. Gandalf, the healers at St. Mungo's warned me that this would continue to happen for a few days, as the energy of the stunners still lingers in my body.'
'What happened?' Gandalf asked, knowing nothing of the four stunners the Ministry agents had sent towards McGonagall only four days ago.
She told him what had happened, her whole demeanour cool and collected, while Gandalf felt anger surge up in him. What foul behaviour! What dishonourable conduct!
'I cannot say how much the foolery of these men angers me.' He said earnestly. 'They deserve the severest punishment!'
The witch at his side only made a vague dismissive gesture with her free hand. 'I agree with you, Mr. Gandalf, but let us not bother about these men anymore. I would rather know how you have fared these past three days?'
'Oh, quite well, although Azkaban is a fell keep. I would not go there again by choice. Prisoners with black hearts and soulless guards make for a foul prison, where even the few guarding wizards are barely human. When I received notice that the Ministry would keep me there four years, if it could, I thought it better to leave.' He told her with dry humour.
Although she did not smile, Gandalf felt no disapproval coming from her. All the same, he wished she smiled more. Then he saw her wince and surmised that despite her previous comment, her wounds were still hurting her considerably. He refrained from mentioning the stunners, however, and instead walked by her side quietly.
She didn't say much more during their journey through the castle. She didn't really strike him as someone who talked a lot, and this evening must have been very tiring for her. She only spoke again after she'd come to a halt in front of a painting. The portrait of an elderly scholar with a goatee greeted them with a smile on his thin lips.
'This is Professor Emmerings. Professor, this is Mr. Gandalf, he will reside in the rooms you guard for a while.' McGonagall introduced the two to each other, then added: 'The password to the rooms is 'Hey diddle diddle'. Good Night, Mr. Gandalf, Professor.'
The two wished her a good night and then faced each other curiously. 'So you convinced Dumbledore, eh?' Professor Emmerings said.
Gandalf couldn't help a small smile. 'Yes, I suppose I did. And rumours spread in this castle as fast as in the Shire!'
'You have no idea!' The professor exclaimed, then scrunched up his brow, 'though I do not know the Shire you are referring to and therefore cannot actually tell.'
'Never mind.' Gandalf replied. 'Well, I should really like to chat some more with you, but it is late and I am tired and I would like to retire into my rooms.'
'Just tell me the password, and I will let you in.' Professor Emmerings said warmly.
Gandalf didn't argue that the professor must have witnessed his arrival with McGonagall and therefore ought to know that he could just let him inside. He only said: 'Hey diddle diddle.'
Only minutes later, he was fast asleep, sprawled across a wide, soft bed.
The two wizards continued talking. As he exchanged words with the wizard before him, Gandalf wondered if that was Minerva McGonagall's husband and what had happened to put the straight-backed witch into the need of a walking stick. Then he admonished himself for letting his mind wander. Before he thought any more about the witch, he had to convince the powerful wizard in front of him that he meant well.
'What is your name?' Albus asked.
'I am Gandalf the White, servant of the Secret Fire and wielder of the flame of Anor, once Bearer of Narya the Great, one of the three Elven Rings, also known as Mithrandir and the White Rider. Who asks?'
'Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Member of the Order of Merlin-' Albus Dumbledore broke off his enumeration and suddenly changed tack completely. 'Ah, but I have just realised that you must be tired after your swift journey from Azkaban! Please be seated.' Then, taking some toffees from his desk, he presented them to Gandalf. 'Lemon drop?'
Considering it a peace offer, Gandalf accepted. Albus popped one of the sweets into his own mouth and sat down too. Minerva McGonagall was already seated and was watching the proceedings with a detached air. Dumbledore offered her no lemon drop, he seemed to know she did not approve of them.
With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore now also conjured up some tea, a cup for each of them, a bowl of sugar and a jug of milk. This Dumbledore really knew how to make serious discussions as comfortable as possible, Gandalf decided, sipping at his tea and stealing a look at Minerva McGonagall, who was just then adding some milk to her beverage.
'So, you said you have much to do with fire?' Dumbledore chuckled softly. 'I see know, why Fawkes did not object to your company.'
'Fawkes?' Gandalf inquired.
Dumbledore motioned to the beautiful bird with feathers the colour of fire, which had been in the office all this time and seemed to listen very intently to what was being said. Now it cocked its head to meet Gandalf's eye, ruffling its feathers a bit. Dumbledore chuckled again.
'Fawkes is never wrong, so much I have learned during the long years he has kept me company. Still, my curiosity is by no means satisfied, nor is that of Minerva, I am sure. Pray, tell us more about you.'
And so it came that they passed that afternoon together, Gandalf telling his story and describing them what the world had been like many thousands of years ago, when elves still roamed the lands, dwarves delved in the mountains, ents walked the forests and hobbits, orcs, oliphaunts and uruk- hai wandered on its plains and in its forests, and the Great War of the Ring was fought, till it was finally won at Minas Tirith.
The tale lasted long into the night, and the moon was setting again already when he finally came to an end. His two hearers seemed very pleased with the story and appeared to be just as astonished as he was when they discovered how far the night had advanced. Minerva McGonagall offered to show Gandalf his room, and so they left Dumbledore's office together, wishing him good night.
She then led him at an exceedingly swift pace along the corridors of the castle. The walking stick seemed to be superfluous, for she only tapped it lightly at the stone flags beneath their feet. As soon as he had come to this conclusion, however, he witnessed her battle with a strong wave of pain.
Her knuckles turned white as she clutched the stick, leaning very heavily onto it, her other hand gripping the robes at her throat spasmodically. Before he could move to help her, however, she had recovered. A faint smile appeared on her features when she saw his troubled look.
'No need to worry, Mr. Gandalf, the healers at St. Mungo's warned me that this would continue to happen for a few days, as the energy of the stunners still lingers in my body.'
'What happened?' Gandalf asked, knowing nothing of the four stunners the Ministry agents had sent towards McGonagall only four days ago.
She told him what had happened, her whole demeanour cool and collected, while Gandalf felt anger surge up in him. What foul behaviour! What dishonourable conduct!
'I cannot say how much the foolery of these men angers me.' He said earnestly. 'They deserve the severest punishment!'
The witch at his side only made a vague dismissive gesture with her free hand. 'I agree with you, Mr. Gandalf, but let us not bother about these men anymore. I would rather know how you have fared these past three days?'
'Oh, quite well, although Azkaban is a fell keep. I would not go there again by choice. Prisoners with black hearts and soulless guards make for a foul prison, where even the few guarding wizards are barely human. When I received notice that the Ministry would keep me there four years, if it could, I thought it better to leave.' He told her with dry humour.
Although she did not smile, Gandalf felt no disapproval coming from her. All the same, he wished she smiled more. Then he saw her wince and surmised that despite her previous comment, her wounds were still hurting her considerably. He refrained from mentioning the stunners, however, and instead walked by her side quietly.
She didn't say much more during their journey through the castle. She didn't really strike him as someone who talked a lot, and this evening must have been very tiring for her. She only spoke again after she'd come to a halt in front of a painting. The portrait of an elderly scholar with a goatee greeted them with a smile on his thin lips.
'This is Professor Emmerings. Professor, this is Mr. Gandalf, he will reside in the rooms you guard for a while.' McGonagall introduced the two to each other, then added: 'The password to the rooms is 'Hey diddle diddle'. Good Night, Mr. Gandalf, Professor.'
The two wished her a good night and then faced each other curiously. 'So you convinced Dumbledore, eh?' Professor Emmerings said.
Gandalf couldn't help a small smile. 'Yes, I suppose I did. And rumours spread in this castle as fast as in the Shire!'
'You have no idea!' The professor exclaimed, then scrunched up his brow, 'though I do not know the Shire you are referring to and therefore cannot actually tell.'
'Never mind.' Gandalf replied. 'Well, I should really like to chat some more with you, but it is late and I am tired and I would like to retire into my rooms.'
'Just tell me the password, and I will let you in.' Professor Emmerings said warmly.
Gandalf didn't argue that the professor must have witnessed his arrival with McGonagall and therefore ought to know that he could just let him inside. He only said: 'Hey diddle diddle.'
Only minutes later, he was fast asleep, sprawled across a wide, soft bed.
