Though Harry's presence at Hogwarts was no secret, the sight of him still
drew crowds whenever he was in the main part of the castle. To avoid
causing a disturbance, Dumbledore took the long way back from the North
Tower, and ended up delivering his charge late for dinner after all.
"It's ten past five," Minerva said irritably as she opened the door. "What kept you? Did Sybill ask him to cross her palm with silver?"
"Not at all," said Dumbledore. "Shall I bring him in?"
"Yes, yes, of course." She stood aside and let them into her sitting room, where Harry's dinner was already laid out on a round table near the fireplace. Dumbledore deposited the little boy in his chair, and, checking to make certain Minerva wasn't looking, cast a swift spell to remove the remnants of garden soil from his hands and face before she could see them. Then he surveyed the divided plate that held Harry's food - soft-cooked chicken, carrots and potatoes, all cut into tiny cubes. He thought he recognized Minerva's handiwork in the surgical precision of the cuts.
"I have his timetable set," said Minerva, coming up beside them and tying a bib around Harry's neck. The motley clown on it capered and did a handstand before blowing up a red balloon printed with the words TIME TO EAT. "Dinner is at five. Bedtime is at seven. If he gets off schedule -"
"Ten minutes in either direction will make no difference," said Dumbledore calmly.
Minerva didn't respond to that, but she looked unconvinced as she set Harry's plate in front of him. Her usually pale face was flushed pink - whether from annoyance or frustration, Dumbledore could not tell - and several long, curling strands of dark hair had escaped from her bun. Dumbledore noted the latter with interest and mild surprise. He hadn't known that Minerva had curly hair. It seemed unlike her somehow. All at once, he realized he was wondering what it would look like if it were loose, and how it would feel to the touch, and redirected himself firmly.
"Children are far more flexible than we," he assured her. "If anything, coming late to dinner will give him more time to work up an appetite."
"Don't count on it," said Minerva. "He seems to live on air. I keep trying different foods, but he never takes more than a bite or two of anything. I've no idea what he likes, and I can hardly ask his m-" She stopped, looking troubled by what she had almost said, then went on, "Well, anyway, there's no one to ask."
They stood side by side in silence for a moment, watching Harry methodically pick all the carrots out of his plate and throw them on the floor. When he'd finished with that, he shoved two cubes of chicken into his mouth, then overturned the entire plate and announced "Done." With her lips compressed into a grim line of disapproval, Minerva released him from the chair and set him down. He wobbled briefly - his legs were still unsteady sometimes - but caught hold of the table leg and got his balance.
"Mummy," he said, looking around. "Mummy, Daddy, Mummy."
Minerva sighed. "He'll go on like that till he falls asleep," she said. "Look here, Harry, don't you want your bunny? I think he'd like to play with you."
Ignoring the white stuffed rabbit she held out, Harry tottered off in the direction of the small nursery they had set up for him, still muttering his mantra to himself. The bunny's pink thread nose twitched, and its ears drooped disconsolately. So did Minerva's shoulders. She looked so defeated that Dumbledore felt moved to slip a comforting arm around her, though he wasn't sure she would find it an appropriate gesture. To his astonishment, and pleasure, she put both her arms round him in return and rested her head on his chest, so close that her hair brushed his cheek.
"It will all work out, Minerva," he said. "He is very young, and he will forget his other life in time. Until then, please try to relax a bit. You'll be no use to him if you make yourself ill worrying over timetables."
"He needs to develop more regular habits," said Minerva stubbornly. "And to eat before he starves himself. I believe I'll take him to the hospital wing in the morning, before my first class - Madam Pomfrey may be able to do something for him."
"Perhaps," said Dumbledore, thinking that that wasn't such a bad idea. It couldn't hurt for Madam Pomfrey to examine the child, after all, and she might be able to soothe Minerva's concerns where he was failing.
"That's what I'll do, then." Minerva's voice sounded a little vague now, and her head was growing suspiciously heavy on his shoulder. Abruptly, she yawned and jerked upright, disengaging herself from his embrace and turning away to clean up Harry's abandoned carrots.
"You had better get downstairs for your own dinner while there's still some to be had," she said. Her back was to him, but she sounded a little embarrassed that she'd nearly fallen asleep on her feet.
"Will you be coming down as well?"
Minerva waved a dismissive hand. "I can get something later, after Harry's asleep."
"Be sure that you do," said Dumbledore, "and that you sleep as well. I won't have you falling asleep halfway through a lesson - or a transformation. You wouldn't look nearly so pretty with a permanent set of whiskers."
She turned around again, hands full of carrot pieces, and looked at him skeptically. Her eyebrows were raised as high as they could go, but the flush in her cheeks looked more like pleasure now than anger. He smiled and refrained from commenting.
"Point taken," Minerva said at last. "I promise to sleep - as much as I can, anyway. And now you really should be going. The dinner hour's almost over."
"I'll just look in on Harry first," said Dumbledore. Walking over to the nursery door, he peered around the corner before entering. Harry was sitting on the floor in front of some blocks, pushing them around halfheartedly, but not building anything with them. Under his breath, he was still repeating "Mummy, Mummy, Mummy ."
All the warmth Dumbledore had felt during his conversation with Minerva evaporated at that sight. Leaving the boy alone, he wished her a good night and went to his dinner with no appetite.
A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed chapter 3!
"It's ten past five," Minerva said irritably as she opened the door. "What kept you? Did Sybill ask him to cross her palm with silver?"
"Not at all," said Dumbledore. "Shall I bring him in?"
"Yes, yes, of course." She stood aside and let them into her sitting room, where Harry's dinner was already laid out on a round table near the fireplace. Dumbledore deposited the little boy in his chair, and, checking to make certain Minerva wasn't looking, cast a swift spell to remove the remnants of garden soil from his hands and face before she could see them. Then he surveyed the divided plate that held Harry's food - soft-cooked chicken, carrots and potatoes, all cut into tiny cubes. He thought he recognized Minerva's handiwork in the surgical precision of the cuts.
"I have his timetable set," said Minerva, coming up beside them and tying a bib around Harry's neck. The motley clown on it capered and did a handstand before blowing up a red balloon printed with the words TIME TO EAT. "Dinner is at five. Bedtime is at seven. If he gets off schedule -"
"Ten minutes in either direction will make no difference," said Dumbledore calmly.
Minerva didn't respond to that, but she looked unconvinced as she set Harry's plate in front of him. Her usually pale face was flushed pink - whether from annoyance or frustration, Dumbledore could not tell - and several long, curling strands of dark hair had escaped from her bun. Dumbledore noted the latter with interest and mild surprise. He hadn't known that Minerva had curly hair. It seemed unlike her somehow. All at once, he realized he was wondering what it would look like if it were loose, and how it would feel to the touch, and redirected himself firmly.
"Children are far more flexible than we," he assured her. "If anything, coming late to dinner will give him more time to work up an appetite."
"Don't count on it," said Minerva. "He seems to live on air. I keep trying different foods, but he never takes more than a bite or two of anything. I've no idea what he likes, and I can hardly ask his m-" She stopped, looking troubled by what she had almost said, then went on, "Well, anyway, there's no one to ask."
They stood side by side in silence for a moment, watching Harry methodically pick all the carrots out of his plate and throw them on the floor. When he'd finished with that, he shoved two cubes of chicken into his mouth, then overturned the entire plate and announced "Done." With her lips compressed into a grim line of disapproval, Minerva released him from the chair and set him down. He wobbled briefly - his legs were still unsteady sometimes - but caught hold of the table leg and got his balance.
"Mummy," he said, looking around. "Mummy, Daddy, Mummy."
Minerva sighed. "He'll go on like that till he falls asleep," she said. "Look here, Harry, don't you want your bunny? I think he'd like to play with you."
Ignoring the white stuffed rabbit she held out, Harry tottered off in the direction of the small nursery they had set up for him, still muttering his mantra to himself. The bunny's pink thread nose twitched, and its ears drooped disconsolately. So did Minerva's shoulders. She looked so defeated that Dumbledore felt moved to slip a comforting arm around her, though he wasn't sure she would find it an appropriate gesture. To his astonishment, and pleasure, she put both her arms round him in return and rested her head on his chest, so close that her hair brushed his cheek.
"It will all work out, Minerva," he said. "He is very young, and he will forget his other life in time. Until then, please try to relax a bit. You'll be no use to him if you make yourself ill worrying over timetables."
"He needs to develop more regular habits," said Minerva stubbornly. "And to eat before he starves himself. I believe I'll take him to the hospital wing in the morning, before my first class - Madam Pomfrey may be able to do something for him."
"Perhaps," said Dumbledore, thinking that that wasn't such a bad idea. It couldn't hurt for Madam Pomfrey to examine the child, after all, and she might be able to soothe Minerva's concerns where he was failing.
"That's what I'll do, then." Minerva's voice sounded a little vague now, and her head was growing suspiciously heavy on his shoulder. Abruptly, she yawned and jerked upright, disengaging herself from his embrace and turning away to clean up Harry's abandoned carrots.
"You had better get downstairs for your own dinner while there's still some to be had," she said. Her back was to him, but she sounded a little embarrassed that she'd nearly fallen asleep on her feet.
"Will you be coming down as well?"
Minerva waved a dismissive hand. "I can get something later, after Harry's asleep."
"Be sure that you do," said Dumbledore, "and that you sleep as well. I won't have you falling asleep halfway through a lesson - or a transformation. You wouldn't look nearly so pretty with a permanent set of whiskers."
She turned around again, hands full of carrot pieces, and looked at him skeptically. Her eyebrows were raised as high as they could go, but the flush in her cheeks looked more like pleasure now than anger. He smiled and refrained from commenting.
"Point taken," Minerva said at last. "I promise to sleep - as much as I can, anyway. And now you really should be going. The dinner hour's almost over."
"I'll just look in on Harry first," said Dumbledore. Walking over to the nursery door, he peered around the corner before entering. Harry was sitting on the floor in front of some blocks, pushing them around halfheartedly, but not building anything with them. Under his breath, he was still repeating "Mummy, Mummy, Mummy ."
All the warmth Dumbledore had felt during his conversation with Minerva evaporated at that sight. Leaving the boy alone, he wished her a good night and went to his dinner with no appetite.
A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed chapter 3!