It Feels Like A Dream
Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me, unfortunately!!!
A/n: This story is for my grandad who passed away on 13th October 2003. As you'll notice, this is mainly based on that day, the events that followed, and how my grandma and I reacted. Like my other story, 'I Never Meant To' I find it helps to do this, allows me to put my feelings down and things like that.
This story is AD/MM and all those present know about Dumbledore and McGonagall. If you don't like AD/MM well sorry, but really they're a bit like my grandparents, and it's kind of fitting.
Also sorry it took so long to write this, I've been kept busy by school work and up and coming exams, but Christmas kind of opened it all up again, and I went for the first time to his well thing, and that kind of well it was weird, but it gave me lots of things to think and cry about again.
As the sun began to rise, small shafts of light filtered through the closed drapes, settling on the bodies of Minerva and Albus. She lay next to him, her head still cushioned on his beard as it previously had been. Her arms remained tightly around his body, holding on for dear life as her chest rose and fell in a rhythmic beat. Albus remained in the same position, the lack of movement signifying the events of last night, the only change being that of the movement of his arm that was now encircling the woman next to him. Muffled movements and hushed voices initiated the awakening of the sleeping form. As Minerva stirred, she felt the arm enveloping her, an action she was used to waking up to, it all seemed so normal, and natural. It seemed that last night had been just what she hoped, a nightmare, it was all ok, she'd woken up now, and everything had returned back to its usual way. Giving his hand a tight squeeze, her world once again fell apart. It was cold, it was exceptionally cold, all heat had been drained from his hand, and suddenly noticing the lack of movement in the man's chest, the nightmare once again became reality. Slowly lifting his arm she was remarkably surprised at the weight and stiffness she encountered, managing to lift it high enough, she rolled out from the embrace, and lay on the opposite side of the bed, drawing the covers around her in attempt to conserve heat. The coldness she had felt in his hand, had sent shivers down her spine, and these had spread right through her entire body. Keeping her eyes transfixed on the man next to her, she took in his features, the long silver hair and beard, the closed eyes, that would no doubt have been bright and twinkling blue ones, the small but noticeable bump in his chiselled nose that gave away the fact that it had been broken, a few too many times than necessary. Her thoughts were cut off with the slow movement of the door handle and the slow creaking of the door.
"Minerva?" Poppy's whispered voice rung around the room, as she slowly entered further in.
"Yes Poppy?" Minerva's voice was muffled due to the thick fluffy red quilt that had been pulled over her head. Poppy walked to the side of the bed, bending down so she was level with the form of Minerva. Slowly lifting a small part of the duvet, she came face to face with the Minerva's large green eyes that were now puffy and red from her constant stream of tears.
"You've got two guests." Minerva's eyes widened, as she accepted the hand Poppy held out for her. Sitting up she summoned her slippers, and slipped her feet into them, been guided by Poppy out of the room.
On entering the large living room, she could not see who her visitors were, but for the back of their heads. Both had a full head of silvery white hair, the resemblance to Albus's gave them away immediately.
"A…Aberforth? A…A…Anne?" Both heads turned around immediately, at the tentative call of their name.
"Oh Minerva!" she was immediately swept up into a big hug from Anne, while Aberforth hung back a little, waiting to see how she would respond. Upon seeing Aberfoth, she could not hold back the tears that filled her eyes, he graciously held out his arms, and she welcomed the invitation, by swiftly stepping into his arms. He held her as she grieved for the man in the next room; his tears too soon began to fall.
"I'm sorry, what must you think? Err… Anne, would you like to err…" Catching on to what Minerva was trying to imply she nodded her head, and was led by Minerva into the bedroom. While Aberforth took his seat, leaving his sister, and sister-in-law some time to themselves.
Harry raced through the deserted corridors, the school all still peacefully asleep at such an early time. He skidded to a stop as he approached the staircase.
"Pineapple Chunks" the gargoyle sprung aside, and the staircase, began to carry him slowly up the stairwell. Reaching the large wooden door, he softly knocked, and was beckoned in by a familiar voice. Opening the door, the sight that greeted him was nothing but quite shocking. The man who was standing with his back towards him looked, well he looked unbelievably like Dumbledore.
"Professor Dumbledore?" The man spun round, and the slight bit of hope that had risen in Harry's stomach, was squashed back down. Once the man had turned Harry immediately noticed the one missing factor, to this Professor Dumbledore, the long flowing silver beard that he had become so accustomed to. He actually felt rather foolish now, he'd allowed himself to be hopeful, and nothing had a risen from it.
"I'm afraid not Mr Potter, I'm his brother Aberforth." Harry's mouth formed the shape of and 'o' in recognition of this man, remembering the time Dumbledore had briefly mentioned his brother, and his likening of goats.
"You… you look so much like him." Aberforth slightly nodded his head and gave him a wistful smile.
"Yes, I suppose I do, minus the beard of course, but we all did."
"All?"
"Yes there were 4 of us together, and the 2 girls of course. Amadeus, Albus, Ares, Aileen, Me and Anne. Us lads, we looked like our father, and the girls our mother. Just me and Anne left now." He lowered his head into his hands as he thought of his fellow siblings; Albus had been the only lucky one to have died peacefully. Ares had been the first to go during the last few days of the war with Voldermort, before young Harry Potter had defeated him. Next was Amadeus who had suffered a large heart attack that had been too strong for his body to handle. Aileen had been the next, hers had been one of the worst, killed in a muggle car accident, she'd been knocked over by a lorry, and carried 500meters down the road before the man could stop. He remembered her injuries, she'd been cut across her abdomen from one side to the other, and now Albus had been added to the list. He was the brother he felt would have been the last to go, always so full of life and energy no matter the 20 year age difference, he had always been the one he'd imagined to out live the lot of them. His sister, who indicated to the gaping door in which a figure could be seen shaking next to the bed, pulled him out of his reverie. Aberfoth nodded his head and slowly removed himself from his chair, making his way into the bedroom closing the door behind him.
The woman who had recently entered the room took the seat opposite Harry, a slow stream of tears still continuing to roll down her face. Looking over the tops of her glasses she caught sight of Harry.
"You must be Mr Potter, Minerva said you'd most likely be out here." Harry gave a small smile of acknowledgement. "I'm Anne McGowan, Albus's younger sister." Harry reached over holding out his hand; she returned the gesture, gripping his hand quite tightly.
"It's a pleasure to meet you Mrs McGowan."
"How are you Harry, Minerva mentioned that you were quite close to Albus, and from what I remember from some of his stories," a slight pause in her sentence captured Harry's attention. "Well the ones Aberforth replayed to me" she finished quietly, before regaining her composure and continuing in her normal voice. "He was quite fond of you too Mr Potter" The corners of Harry's lips raised into a shadow of a smile at this last comment, quietly remembering the many time Dumbledore had been there to help him out of trouble. His words from his first year after his incident with the late Professor Quirrell.
"To the well-organised mind, death is but the next great adventure."
The words echoed in his mind, getting louder and louder in what seemed an attempt to drown out the anguished cries of his grieving Professor. The look on Mrs McGowan's face showed her unease at the grief she was hearing, her eyes slowly filling with tears, in an effort to turn both their attentions away from the room next to them, Harry asked a question that had been at the back of his mind.
"I'm sorry Mrs McGowan, but you said that Aberforth had to replay the stories, didn't Professor Dumbledore tell you?"
"Well no, Albus and I, we weren't on the best of terms for ooohh a good 100 years if my memory serves me rightly. It wasn't until about a year ago that we got back into contact."
"100 years!"
"Yes I was about 25, and Albus was just 50, in all honesty Mr Potter, I couldn't for the life of me tell you what it was all about, but I'll tell you one thing, it is one of my greatest regrets. I missed out on so much of his life, all I knew of my own brother was the paper cuttings I found in the Daily Prophet, stories from my other siblings, and of course brief glimpses of him at family events. Now however, well I don't know really I keep thinking back on the could have been's, but there no comfort at all, I feel so guilty not having been there for him, and now, well I cant exactly amend my mistakes now can I?" Her head dropped, as Harry saw tears begin to fall down her face pooling onto the carpet, the silent shuffling of feet approaching, and the comforting hand of Aberforth on her back brought her back together again. Quickly dabbing at her eyes with her hands, she busied herself with re-arranging her skirts as she stood up from her chair.
"Come on Anne, let's give Min some time to herself." She nodded at Aberforth's suggestion and bustled out of the room, saying her last goodbyes.
"It's been a pleasure to meet you Mr Potter." Aberforth said as he extended his hand towards Harry. Harry gabbed hold of it giving him a firm handshake.
"Pleasure to meet you to Mr Dumbledore."
"I'll be seeing you soon, at the funeral yes?" Harry took a large gulp at the word 'funeral' and found he didn't have the voice to answer, instead shaking his head solemnly. He felt a tight grip on his shoulder, and looked round to see Professor McGonagall, holding onto him, her eyes still red and puffy from crying. Mrs McGowan was not far behind, and they embraced before she said her farewell to Harry and flooed to her cottage in Wales. Aberforth, said nothing, instead just stared at McGonagall who nodded in return, giving a small smile as he too flooed back to his home.
Both Harry and Minerva were the only two that remained in the office, Harry found that McGonagall's hand ha found its way back to his shoulder, he found a source of comfort and relief, turning round he looked at her, both being of the same height now.
"Are you ok Professor?" He received a nod, as tears once again sprung to her eyes, with a slight hesitation, Harry wrapped his arms around her, as she leaned against allowing her tears to flow for another time that day, as Harry allowed himself to do the same. After a few minutes had passed Minerva began to straighten herself up.
"Look at us Mr Potter, now what would Albus say?" Harry smiled at this. "We have much planning to do, and I would be very grateful if you wouldn't mind helping. Professors Snape, Hooch, and Madame Pomfrey shall be here shortly, and I'd like your input if it isn't of any trouble."
"Of course not Professor, would you like me to make you a drink?" She nodded slowly,
"Cup of tea if you don't mind Harry, oh and a dash of Fire whisky in there, just you mind you don't tell any students." Harry gave her a quick grin as he set about making both a cup of tea, with Professor McGonagall's own secret ingredient.
Both sat down in the two large downy armchairs in front of the open-hearth fire, deep in their own thoughts. The entrance of Severus Snape, Xiomara Hooch, Poppy Pomfrey, and an unknown man into the room stirred both Harry and McGonagall out of their thoughts.
"Minerva this is Mr Late of 'Departed & Late Funeral Company'" Poppy's introduction was met with a slight inclination of her head. Harry got up from his seat and took his place in one of the four seats Snape had conjured up, and Mr Late took his departed seat opposite the four Professors and Harry.
"Now Mrs Dumbledore, we usually start off with the type of coffin you'd like your husband to be in. If you'd care to take a look there are a large range to choose from, our best seller is the oak with silver handles. McGonagall accepted the book he'd offered her tears beginning to fill her eyes, but quickly kept back and pushed away. Harry couldn't help but think it seemed a bit like shopping for a new fully fitted kitchen. The way Mr Late handled it so professional and business like, but then to him it was business like.
"What do you think Harry?" McGonagall brought his attention to the large book, her hand pointing to a large picture of what looked like, well a Moses basket with a lid. Harry looked up and gave her a small smile,
"He'd like that one."
"Yes he would wouldn't he?" Harry heard a sniff come from his left as Madame Pomfrey made every effort to keep in the tears that were threatening to fall.
"Have chosen Mrs Dumbledore?"
"Yes I have, this one" once again she pointed to the picture as she handed the book back.
"This one?" McGonagall nodded her head as conformation. "Surely Mrs Dumbledore this isn't fit for Albus Dumbledore to be laid to rest in he was the greatest wizard of our time beating the dark wizard Grinderwald."
"I am quite aware of who my husband was and what he achieved, Albus would not have wanted your best-selling coffin nor any fancy one. He was a simple man Mr Late who enjoyed the pleasures of life and I quite confident that he would like this coffin!"
"But Mrs Dumble…"
"I believe our decision has been made Mr Late, if you are incapable of co-operating we will gladly take out business else where" Snape injected.
"Yes, yes of course, well in that case, is there anywhere in particular you'd like to hold the funeral?"
"Yes, he has plot already reserved for him, next to his brother Amadeus." McGonagall answered quickly, and the information was noted down quickly on the clipboard in front of Mr Late.
"Well I'll be in touch with a nearby church to…"
"No church!"
"I'm sorry?"
"A church service won't be held before his buried."
"Mrs Dumbledore, it is the correct procedure in cases like this."
"It may be correct, but he wasn't particularly religious, don't get me wrong he believed in God, but he didn't attend church, and he always said that he didn't want a man who he'd never met telling people how wonderful he was. We will carry out own service thank you. We'd just like a date as to when he can be buried." Silence engulfed the room, and Mr Late just stared at McGonagall, and the unorthodox funeral that would be taking place for the Greatest Wizard of their time. A light knock on the office door broke the silence and Madame Pomfrey got up to answer the door. A quiet conversation took place between the visitors and school nurse, and she slowly opened the door to reveal 3 healers, Harry recognised the uniform from his visit to Mr Weasley.
"Our sincerest condolences Professor McGonagall." What looked like the oldest came over to the congregation.
"Thank you Elliott. I'll take you to him yes?" With a bow of the head she led the three healers into the next room quickly followed by Poppy. Silence once again fell in the room and Harry found that the three remaining adults had bowed their heads in respect as the deceased was removed from his resting place onto the stretcher, and covered with a white sheet. As they brought the body out of the room all heads bowed in respect and the silence was only broken by the sob that escaped from McGonagall's mouth.
"I can't do this Poppy, Xiomara please you have to take over." Her voice was filled with tears as she turned round and went back into the bedroom. Xiomara went to follow but was stopped by Poppy's hand on her arm.
"The only way we can help her at the moment is by carrying on organising this funeral. Harry!" Harry jumped at the sound of his name.
"Yes Madame Pomfrey?"
"Will you go in and check she's alright and not doing anything silly?" Harry nodded and walked over to the door and knocked softly before slowly opening the door.
"Right Mr Late I believe we only have the date to set now."
As he entered the room he noticed McGonagall sitting on the edge of the bed looking at her hands that were presently folded in her lap, the tears quickly falling onto them.
"Professor?" Harry asked tenderly. He got no reply acknowledging his presence, so he slowly began to walk towards her. "Professor?" he asked again gently touching her shoulder. This time she looked up to him the wet track of tears running down her face glinted.
"Oh Harry what am I going to do?" she asked in desperation, burying her face into her hands. He slowly sat down next to her, and gradually wrapped an arm around her as she cried. "I'm lost Harry. What do I do now?"
"I don't know Professor, I haven't got any answers to that question, but Professor Dumbledore would want you to be strong, he'd hate to see you upset, you know he would." Harry felt hot tears slowly beginning to fall down his face.
A/n: I'm sorry if its all a bit jumpy, and if the grammar's bad, but it was quite hard to write, so please excuse any big mistakes. Also I intend to carry this on for a few more chapters, may be short ones, depending on schoolwork, and how difficult it gets. Please read and review, and please no flamers, I know it may not be good, but it's from the heart.
I'd also like to thank my reviewers:
Insaneflautist, LinZE, crystalunicorn14, Dumbledore's Quill, Jestana, Liz O'Brien, evilwoman and Princess witch.