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Albus Dumbledore let his head fall into his hands and sighed heavily. Wiping at the lone tear that he had allowed to fall down his face, he wondered if there was anything he could make a bigger mess of than he had done of that situation. A part of him wanted nothing more than to curl up in a corner and continue to berate himself for his past decisions and fool hardy belief that he knew what was best for the young man, but a softly spoken Scottish brogue rang through his head. 'The best thing you can do when you feel like giving in is to pull up your socks, tuck in your shirt and well – get on with it. Not even we have the ability or right to change our greatest mistakes so we have to make the best of what we leave for ourselves and hope that with time we may be able to put right a little of what we have done wrong.' He had often thought that had Minerva not chosen to teach, she would have enjoyed spending her time philosophising; well as long as she could find someone to argue with. But perhaps, in this case, she was better qualified to talk than most. He stood and headed towards the door and then descending the stairs hurried toward the front entrance. He really wished that he could put off his impending visit to Cornelius Fudge's office; he wanted to speak to Alistair, who he knew had been trying to find a moment to talk all evening. He had a disturbing feeling that it had to do with his deputy the philosopher. When Hagrid had told him how she had come tearing down the slope from the castle in order to defend him, he had been hard pressed not to chuckle. An angry Minerva McGonagall was a force to be reckoned with, but no doubt she had let her temper get the better of her if she had been overcome in the fashion the half-giant had told. He had been reassured when the other man told him of the audience that had viewed the entire exhibit as he had more than enough faith in the capabilities of the rest of his staff to ensure that she had been taken good care of. Even Fillius Flitwick could be somewhat intimidating when called to protect someone he had a soft spot for, and there was little arguing that Minerva fell into that category. In any case he had an entirely unsettled feeling about the whole Umbridge affair, not helped by the fact that she had obviously been jealous of the other woman since long before her arrival at Hogwarts.
"Albus!" He heard the gruff voice call to him across the hall.
"Moody." He greeted as the other man joined him and they continued to walk together.
"The boy?" His old friend asked almost hesitantly.
"Will probably never trust me again, but he knows the truth. That, at least, is a bonus." The auror nodded a little before reaching out uncharacteristically to grasp his forearm.
"It's about Tabby, Albus," He began, but the Headmaster intercepted him.
"How is she?" The question flowed from his tongue automatically while his subconscious was spurned into denial. Surely he would know if she had…..
"I wish I could tell you." This caught him slightly off guard but he tried to make the leap.
"They haven't let anyone see her? Surely Poppy…?"
"After Hagrid took off, she was taken to the hospital wing but as far as I gather it was quite clear from the start she was going to need more serious treatment than Poppy could provide." He frowned at this. It would have to have been worse than he had anticipated for the school nurse to relinquish her care to someone else. "Well, that left her fairly isolated to begin with. Umbridge banned the staff from going anywhere near St Mungo's, and the rest of us couldn't risk drawing attention to ourselves by going to visit. Anyway, eventually Molly sent the 'gruesome twosome'. But when they got there this morning it seemed she'd already been bundled off somewhere and no one was talking. That was until Kingsley overheard a rather interesting conversation, the summation of which was pretty much that our exemplary Minister and his High Inquisitor had Minerva arrested on some of the most preposterous charges I've ever seen, and sent straight to Azkaban." His blood ran cold at this. Minerva could deal with just about anything, but he had to wonder what this turn in events would do to her in what seemed to be a fragile state of health.
"She's still there?" He asked speeding up once more as they headed down the drive.
"Cornelius… Cornelius!" Albus rarely raised his voice, so when he increased his volume just a little, it seemed to have a dramatic effect. The other man ceased his prattling instantly. "Please Cornelius sit down and just listen to what I have to say, would you?" He continued returning to his usual soft tones.
"Of course, of course." The Minister looked flustered, taking his seat behind the rather overbearing desk.
"You need have no doubt that I will do everything within my power to help you. It should have become fairly obvious by this stage that I will do whatever it takes to try and ensure the safety of our people. And this task will certainly be made easier with the support of the Ministry." The other man shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "But before we begin to discuss this further, I would think there is one certain matter that I believe needs to be cleared up first. I know you've already withdrawn the warrant for Hagrid's and my own arrests. Now I want my Deputy back." Though he did not raise his voice or bang his fists on the table, the feeling that ran behind his words was quite clear.
"I would like to point out that my assistant is also missing."
"Really? I do believe I walked past Mr. Weasley on my way in." Fudge's face was beginning to colour impressively and his hands were now balled into fists by his sides.
"Dolores Umbridge, has not been seen since some of your pupils witnessed her being abducted and taken into the Forbidden Forrest."
"I assume that if they are once again 'my' pupils, that you are happy for me to return to my previous position?"
"Of course; wouldn't have it any other way." He mumbled in response.
"Well do be assured that my Gameskeeper ought to have arrived back at the school by now, and is no-doubt in the process of ensuring Professor Umbridge's safety. However, I really don't see what that has to do with you releasing Minerva McGonagall from Azkaban." The other man pushed a few papers around on his desk around before calling to the young man outside.
"Weasley! Where's the latest decree?"
"Number twenty-eight sir?" He asked, bustling into the room.
"If that's the last one we passed, then yes." Albus's legendary patience was fast running out with this new incarnation of Cornelius Fudge; an irritating mix of the helpless and the pompous.
"Right here." Percy told his superior, pointing to a sheet of parchment lying dead centre on the desk. "Professor I just wanted to say…." He continued turning to look at the Headmaster.
"That'll do Weasley." Fudge interrupted, obviously wanting him out of the room. He managed to catch his former student's eye before he turned to go, and dipped his head slightly in recognition of the apology he knew he had been offered. After the door had closed he carried on. "Ah, yes." Albus took the proffered scroll and read what had been written upon it. He needn't have though, as Fudge felt fit to give a pretty much verbatim account of what it meant in practical terms. "You see, Dolores and I came to the conclusion, after your little escapade, that being the High Inquisitor as well as the Headmistress she really needed to be able to wield a little more…power shall we say."
"You gave her the authority to not only file criminal charges but to decide what was appropriate as punishment?" One day he was going to learn not to be surprised at how stupid most people became when given any significant measure of power.
"It was still necessary for her to acquire my signature before anything was done." Came the snide retort. It didn't surprise him that Fudge would sign any parchment that would condemn Minerva, as he had certainly not been her biggest fan since their somewhat vocal disagreement at the end of the last school year. "However this being the case, it is also necessary that we both sign the release papers."
"I assume that when Dolores is found, you will ensure that both signatures are on parchment as soon as possible?"
"Of course, of course." Somehow Dumbledore wasn't so sure, but at this point in time he really didn't have much option. It did however give him a rather good opportunity to leave and get back to the school.
"Well then I'm sure you'll excuse me; many hands make light work after all." And with this he stood and turned to go.
"But…. but what about….what am I going to tell people? How am I going to explain….?"
"I'm sorry, I was under the impression that you wanted me to return to help the search for one of my indisposed professors?" He could see the war raging behind the other man's eyes. He obviously didn't genuinely hold her safety in high esteem, but to admit so would be tantamount to admitting that he was simply trying to extend the period of time that Minerva had to spend in the company of the dementors. If he was honest, he certainly didn't give two hoots what he chose to tell the Prophet, or anyone else who asked. There really was no way he could make those who had been vocal about the second rising of Voldemort look bad after tonight's events, and how he saved his own behind was his own business. Or that of his advisors.
"Of course, of course." That reply was loosing its lustre now. "I suppose that I'll…"
"You'll hear from me as soon as I have something to tell you Minister. Goodnight." He only paused when he reached the outer office, where Percy Weasley seemed to be barely in control of his surroundings. There were several heads in the fire, as well as an impressive number of rather impatient, important Ministry officials in the office itself. The younger man gave him a weak smile.
"You will be happy to hear that both Ronald and Virginia are in good hands, and that Madame Pomfrey expects their recovery to be full and not terribly drawn out." He told him quietly some of what Alastor had filled him in on before he had apparated away. "And when you get a chance you might like to send your mother an owl."
"Thank you Sir." The older man smiled, and placing a hand in his pocket, pulled out a lemon drop.
"This might help you deal with that lot first though." The smile broadened and once again he looked like the child that many thought had long since disappeared behind the professional mask he had worn from far too young an age.
