77. The Most Dangerous Time of the Year

With only one day of school left before the start of the Christmas holidays, Albus wasn't expecting any more serious trouble. He was sitting in his study, in the company of the headmasters and headmistresses who had preceded him, as per usual. Some of them chatted amicably with each other while others had already fallen asleep in their portraits. It was late and Albus felt the first signs of fatigue, but he fought them off. Minerva wasn't waiting for him to come to bed anyway. She had wished him a good night at dinner. That was now her way of letting him know she wasn't going to wait up until the coast was (Umbridge) clear for her to join him. The sore muscles in his neck and shoulders would have to endure another night spent sitting at his desk working.

A knock on the door interrupted that unpleasant thought. As always when Minerva walked into his office, Albus wanted to greet her with a warm smile, but tonight it died on his lips. Minerva was followed by a pale and extremely upset looking Harry and a scared Ronald Weasley. His fatigue instantly replaced by a sense of foreboding, Albus fixed his eyes on Minerva's worried face. He knew that she must have a very good reason to bring Harry to him, in the middle of the night no less, even though Albus had tried to avoid him all year.

The explanation that followed was as dark as it was unexpected. Arthur Weasley, who was on guard duty tonight, had been attacked and Harry had seen it all happen. Albus had feared that the connection between Voldemort and Harry would flare up eventually. It was why he kept looking at Minerva or at the carpet or at the point just above Harry's shoulder, anywhere except at the boy's panicked face. But he hadn't thought it would be quite this violent when it happened and leave one of their own at death's door.

The most important task now was to save Arthur Weasley's life. Preferably in a way that made sure he wouldn't be the second member of the Order to go to Azkaban. Some of Albus' predecessors had portraits in very useful places and so they managed to alert the right people at the Ministry. People who were not in the Order themselves but sympathetic to its cause. They brought Arthur to St Mungo's as quickly as possible. Not quite fast enough for Umbridge not to notice that something unusual was going on and that there were students out of bed. After Minerva had woken the other Weasley children and brought them to his study, Albus asked her to find any way whatsoever to distract the High Inquisitor while he sent the children off to Grimmauld Place with the help of a Portkey the Ministry definitely hadn't authorised.

It was in that moment when they were all standing close together that Albus couldn't help looking at Harry at least once. He hadn't seen Harry's eyes up close in a couple of months, but he remembered them – and the woman who had given them to him – perfectly. They were as green as they were kind. Usually.

If the Portkey hadn't taken hold of Harry and pulled him away in that very second, Albus would have been forced to take a step back in defence. Because when their eyes finally met, Harry's lit up shockingly scarlet and glowed with a vicious hatred aimed towards him. Albus deserved Harry's anger, but that wasn't truly Harry looking back at him. It was the shadow of a lost, monstrous, broken soul.

Albus shoved his feelings aside and waited for Fawkes to return from watching out for Umbridge so he could ask him to deliver a message to Molly Weasley. This was the kind of news one should get in person, but that wasn't possible under the circumstances. Once the phoenix had left and Albus was truly alone, he slowly sank back down onto his chair, not answering any of the questions the surrounding portraits fired at him or moving in any other way. He didn't know for how long he had remained utterly still. Only the arrival of Sirius' Patronus made him stir.

"Kids are all safe. Upset that they have to wait to hear from Molly before going to St Mungo's, not to mention that we'll need to organise a guard first. But I got them to calm down a little. Harry said something strange, though. He said he wasn't just seeing things through the snake's eyes, he felt and thought like it, too. He said he almost wanted to... hurt you. What are we going to do about that?" The translucent dog gave him a piercing look and vanished.

Albus took off his glasses and ran a hand over his tired face. He wondered why tragedy and triumph were often so close together. One of the battles he had fought ever since Voldemort had returned in corporeal form had been lost tonight. He had seen it in Harry's eyes and Sirius, who had heard it from Harry's own lips, had now confirmed it. The attack on Arthur had been so gruesome and invasive that Voldemort had finally realised how strong the connection between him and Harry was. That Harry could see through Voldemort's eyes and conversely that Voldemort could do the same thing – and possibly a lot worse. Seeing through Harry's eyes, making him feel and see things, possessing him... Albus' worst fears were suddenly laid bare and sitting right there at Voldemort's fingertips.

On the other hand, Voldemort had lost something, too, or rather he had revealed it to them. Harry had felt like the snake because Voldemort must have been possessing it at the time. The only way for that to be possible was that the snake was a Horcrux as well. That piece of information was so valuable, it was almost worth the terrible price they had paid for it.

Almost.

Albus could practically hear Aberforth's voice in his ear, his scathing criticism of the role Albus played – had to play – in all of this. A part of him wanted to defend himself. He wanted to point out that he hadn't talked to Harry in months to prevent this from happening and that he couldn't possibly drop all the other things he had to do so he could also stand guard at the Ministry instead of Sturgis and Arthur and whoever might get hurt next. In the end, Albus accepted the pointlessness of arguing with himself and heaved a sigh.

Only to realise something else. He might be used to shouldering this kind of blame, but Harry was not. He had felt himself attack Arthur Weasley tonight. Even if he understood that he was completely innocent in all of this, he would probably manage to convince himself that he was too dangerous to be around others, perhaps even unworthy of it. Albus knew the feeling well. He had learned to accept it and to go on with what needed to be done. Harry was too hot-headed and not nearly pragmatic enough to make the same decision. What he needed was someone to explain everything. No, not someone. He needed Albus to explain everything. In an unspeakably cruel twist of fate that was also the very thing he didn't need because it could make everything even worse for him. As that brief moment between the two of them earlier had amply demonstrated.

Another stopgap measure would have to do. "Phineas," Albus said without getting up or even turning around. After being yelled at and admonished for refusing to help earlier, Albus knew the former headmaster would now be listening. "I must ask you to visit your other portrait regularly over the next few days to keep an eye on Harry. If he starts to pack his things or gives any other indication that he's about to run away, I need you to give him a message from me."

"If I had known that 'giving advice to the current headmaster' included being his errand boy, I would have told them not to bother hanging up a portrait of me in this office," Phineas Black replied grumpily. It was his disagreeable way of saying yes.

"Just tell Harry to stay where he is."

Phineas waited for Albus to add anything before he sneered, "If today's students need simple instructions like that, I'm oh so glad I'm not a teacher anymore."

Albus would have loved to ask him to be nice to Harry and to say a few words of encouragement. But there was no point, so he ignored Sirius' great-great-grandfather.

The door to his office was pushed open again and Albus quickly put his glasses back on, expecting Dolores Umbridge to come barging in, demanding answers. His shoulders dropped with relief when Minerva came into focus instead. She looked as exhausted as though she had been in a wrestling match with a Hungarian Horntail. Perhaps that wasn't far from the truth.

Rising to his feet, Albus circled out from behind his desk, took her hands in his and guided her towards the two chairs for visitors in front of his desk so they could both sit face to face, their knees touching. "How did you manage to keep Umbridge away?"

"Well, I tried lying and yelling and I was this close to cursing her when I realised that there was only one thing that would be of greater importance to her than getting in our way. I told her enough about the incident at the Ministry to suggest that her precious Cornelius could be in serious danger. She immediately ran off to her office to find out what happened," Minerva explained wearily. "I know it's a risk to draw attention to Arthur, but I couldn't think of anything else, short of attacking her. Which would have been a lot more satisfying, but I figured we had enough of that tonight already."

Albus squeezed her hands in agreement. "That was a very clever distraction. We can't possibly hide the attack altogether. We just need to hide the exact spot where Arthur was found, so we can convince everyone that he was simply working late and had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"That's not a lie, is it?" Minerva said sadly. "Have you heard anything new?"

"Molly's with him at St Mungo's and he's definitely still alive. We'll have to wait and see what the healers can do for him," Albus told her.

Minerva nodded slowly. "It sounds wrong to say this, but I keep wishing that anyone else had been on guard duty tonight. His children and Molly… they don't deserve this."

"No one deserves this," Albus replied, but he knew what she was trying to say. Arthur was loved by a lot of people. His loss would be utterly devastating. "Let us help him by choosing to believe that he'll make it through this."

"What was You-Know-Who's snake even doing there?" Minerva wondered. Getting to the bottom of this situation was easier for her than to dwell on her feelings.

"Voldemort probably hoped to get a look at the prophecy since he still hasn't figured out how to bring it in his possession."

There was a brief pause. "So how do we stop Potter from seeing something like this again?" Minerva then asked. Right to the point as always. Seeing inside Voldemort's head had probably saved Arthur's life tonight, but it had endangered Harry in more ways than he realised just yet. Not to mention that it had been a traumatising experience. Even without knowing all the details about the connection between Harry and Voldemort, Minerva could see that Harry needed protection from it. And that was all that mattered to her.

"It won't be easy. I have to talk to Severus first thing in the morning," Albus decided, forming a plan as he said it. A woefully imperfect plan, but that couldn't be helped.

"You can talk to him now." If it annoyed Minerva that he wanted to discuss this matter with Severus rather than her, she banished those feelings from her face. "My argument with Dolores wasn't exactly quiet. Either we woke him up or he was already lurking in the corridors anyway. He came to see what was going on, but I waved him away so he wouldn't get involved."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but were you trying to protect Severus?" Albus quirked a brow in surprised amusement.

Minerva shrugged. "I wouldn't wish Umbridge on my worst enemy. Speaking of which, she'll be back here as soon as she's made sure that neither she nor Fudge are actually in danger."

"Then I shall use that time to see if I can find Severus before our High Inquisitor can find me," Albus said.

"I can go and check that she's still holed up in her office," Minerva offered. Albus had been about to get up from his chair but paused. When their eyes met, Minerva gave a little snort. "Sorry, I know you don't need me to do that for you."

Albus sat back down. "There is something else I would like you to do."

"Anything," Minerva said with a conviction and fearlessness that was heartwarming and terrifying at the same time.

"I want you to gather the McGonagall clan and go spend Christmas with them."

"What?" Stunned, Minerva leaned back in her chair. She hadn't expected this. "No! I don't know why, but Umbridge is staying in the castle for the holidays. Perhaps she's scared that we would board up all the entrances so she couldn't get back inside. Anyway, I won't just leave you here with her."

"You're not leaving me as long as you're coming after New Year's, which I took the liberty of taking for granted." Albus could see that she wanted to protest, so he clasped her hands more firmly and went on, "Right now it's relatively safe to enjoy the holidays with the ones you love. We'll do what we can to ensure it stays that way, but there's no way of knowing. So we should make the most of the time we have while we still can. You spent all summer working for the Order rather than getting to know little Robbie. But he won't wait for you and stop growing up in the meantime."

Since they had no children of their own, Albus knew her brothers' children and their children had a special place in Minerva's heart. Robert's daughter Catriona especially, who had been half-orphaned way too young and whose infant son Robbie was the grandson and great-grandson neither Robert McGonagall Junior nor Senior would ever meet.

"But I can't just… not now with Arthur…" Minerva argued weakly.

"Arthur would be the first to tell you that now is the perfect time," Albus interrupted her gently. "There's nothing we can do for him. That's up to the healers. And there's not much else we can do either. It's almost Christmas after all."

Minerva huffed. "And You-Know-Who cares about Christmas?"

"No, but I think he will take some time to consider his options after what happened tonight," Albus mused. "Nevertheless, I really do need to speak with Severus. So may I remind you that you said you'd do anything I asked?"

"This is not what I meant."

"I know. You meant you'd be willing to do something difficult and dangerous and absolutely dreadful." He smiled at her helplessly. "When I just want you to be happy. Please."

He infused that last word with as much love and desperation as he could verbalise and he could finally see the resistance in Minerva's green eyes melt away.

"Fine. If you want me to go, I'll go."

"Good." This time Albus really did get up. "Just bear in mind that I also said to come back to me afterwards."

Minerva squared her shoulders and lifted her chin as she looked up at him. "Try and stop me."

Albus chuckled and left his study. He found Severus in his own office, alert and not at all surprised to see him. "What happened?" he asked curtly, standing up as though he expected Albus to send him off to go somewhere.

This night had taken a terrible turn for the Order and yet Albus couldn't deny a feeling of gratitude for being surrounded by people who were willing to do whatever needed to be done without batting an eye. He would have to put that to the test right now. What he was about to ask of Severus might just finally be too much.

"Arthur Weasely was attacked by Lord Voldemort's snake while he was on guard duty." Albus paused because this was the point where most people would inquire after Arthur's current condition, but Severus' black eyes betrayed no emotional reaction. Ironically, he thus demonstrated the very ability for which Albus had come. "We know this because Harry saw it happen. It seems Voldemort was possessing Nagini at the time of the attack. This has given us the chance to save Arthur, but it has also made Voldemort aware of the incursion into his mind. He now knows that Harry has been able to gain access to his thoughts and that this connection between them is not one-sided."

At this, Severus slightly lifted a brow in surprise. "Are you saying the Dark Lord might be able to possess the boy?"

"I'm saying that is what we must not allow him to find out," Albus corrected. "I doubt Voldemort could possess Harry from afar, but manipulating his thoughts and emotions could be just as dangerous."

Severus shook his head. "This is a vulnerability the Dark Lord won't confide to anyone unless he can turn it into a strength. There's no way for me to stop him, if that's what you came here to ask."

"There is, actually, if you look at it from the other side," Albus explained. "I need you to teach Harry how to protect himself. I need you to teach him Occlumency."

For the first time Severus showed a strong visible reaction that was not the least bit restrained. "That's absurd, even for your standards, Dumbledore! That boy has as much chance of learning how to close his mind as he has of getting through one school year without nearly killing himself. He can't even learn how to control his mouth, to say nothing of his temper!"

"You're still determined to see only the worst in him," Albus countered. "Harry has already shown a special aptitude at resisting the Imperius Curse. He has great mental strength."

"If you believe in him so much, then you can teach him!" Severus hissed. "I'm telling you now that it'll be a complete waste of your time."

"I would love to prove you wrong, but I can't. Voldemort's hatred for me is quite unparalleled. Allowing Harry to be near me would do the opposite of what we're trying to achieve. It would be even greater motivation for Voldemort to control Harry and would put him in terrible danger."

"Then find someone else!" Severus spat.

"There is no one else," Albus said, not unsympathetic to the position Severus was in.

Oh, how he wished that, since he couldn't do it himself, he could have asked Minerva to teach Harry. Sadly, that was not an option. Minerva was a remarkable witch with an exceptionally strong will, but her morally righteous manner as well as her fiery temperament and passion for the truth had never made for an ideal combination to become an accomplished Occlumens.

Severus glared at him in mute resistance, pressing his lips into a thin line. He was so angry that his control of his own feelings slipped just a little, enough for Albus to understand. Severus wasn't just furious and disgusted at the prospect of teaching Harry. He was scared. Not of the boy but of his intimate memories that were bound to be revealed in an Occlumency lesson. Or more precisely, of the persons who could be in those memories. One person Severus hated more than anyone else and one he was so desperate to see again that he might even be tempted to search for her in the depth of Harry's thoughts.

"You may borrow my Pensieve for the duration of those lessons so you can clear your mind," Albus offered him softly. That wouldn't help with seeing Lily Potter, but it would make it easier for Severus to focus and to protect his inner self. Albus had a feeling that Harry would prove to be a more formidable student than Severus wanted to believe. "I think once a week should suffice, so we don't weaken Harry's defences too much, starting after the holidays. I would suggest that you let Harry know in person while he's still at Headquarters. Then you can explain everything to him without Dolores noticing."

"Why don't you stop talking as though I have a choice in any of this, Dumbledore?" Severus said between clenched teeth.

"Because there's a difference between not having a choice and not liking the choice you've already made." Albus sighed, took a step towards the Potions master and then stopped, not really having anything to offer that would truly help. "I'm sorry, Severus. I know this won't be easy for either of you. Please remember that Harry is not his father. It's vital that he learns to do this and that he understands why it's so important. Even if I could teach him, you are in fact the most qualified person to explain this to him. You know how essential it is to keep Voldemort out of your thoughts. There are more lives at stake than just Harry's."

After the longest time Severus gave a grudging nod, which was the only answer Albus was likely going to get.

"Thank you," Albus said and he meant it. He also prayed that Severus and Harry would find a way to work around their animosity and that they wouldn't allow them all to be torn apart from the inside.

Minerva felt blissfully warm, sitting in an armchair in front of the fireplace in her brother Malcolm's house, surrounded by familiar loud and cheerful voices. The noise didn't seem to bother the sleeping baby in her arms. Catriona had handed little Robbie to her quite some time ago and had since then disappeared, either to take a nap or to gorge herself on the Christmas pudding. Minerva's other niece and nephew were sitting on the floor next to the Christmas tree, playing Exploding Snap and reminiscing about who used to steal more candy canes from the tree when they had been children. Malcolm was discussing last week's game of the Montrose Magpies with Catriona's husband Sam while Minerva's two sisters-in-law argued whether being a young mother was easier when you were a witch or if that only created more potential for disaster, for example when you got a spell wrong while changing your baby's nappy. (As a Muggle who had married into the family Deborah had always been a little envious of the magic surrounding her.)

"You should better be careful. If you let Catriona and Sam see that you got Robbie to fall asleep in your arms, they might beg you to quit teaching and move in with them just so you can carry him around all day."

Minerva looked up at her mother, who sat in the armchair opposite her. Isobel McGonagall had become very thin in her old age and she tired easily now, but her face was still beautiful and her eyes were as sharp and alert as ever. "That doesn't necessarily sound like such a bad arrangement. But I'm needed where I am."

"Which reminds me that I've been meaning to ask you how bad things really are?"

"What things?" Minerva hedged.

Her mother gave her that look that, according to Albus, Minerva had inherited from her. The look that said 'don't you dare insult me by feigning ignorance.' "You know what things. The things the Ministry and the Daily Prophet aren't talking about while you only keep giving us vague warnings."

"Knowing too much can be dangerous." Minerva thought of Potter and what had happened when he had seen right into You-Know-Who's mind. She realised that she had given one of Albus' nonanswers just now and that she didn't like it.

Neither did her mother. "You think I don't know that Voldemort is dangerous? He's responsible for the death of one of my sons!"

Minerva flinched so badly, not having expected Isobel to say any of that, least of all the name, she was afraid she might have woken the baby. But Robbie slept on and so she was free to stare at her mother.

"When you get to be my age, you realise that very few people deserve your respect and your fear," she continued. "At this point in my life all I care about are the people in this house tonight and I wish I still had the strength to give anyone who threatens them a piece of my mind."

After carefully repositioning the baby in her arms Minerva leaned forward and grinned at her mother. "Then you can hardly tell me off for choosing to fight – and for keeping all of you out of it."

"Of course I can. I'm your mother and it's my duty and prerogative to tell you if you're being stupid, no matter how old we both get. But…" she leaned towards her and patted Minerva's knee, "… I never really had to because you've been brilliant from the day it was me holding you in my arms like that. So keep your secrets if you must. Just promise me if you ever come face to face with that evil bastard, you let him know that the McGonagall family does not forget."

"I will," Minerva vowed. She didn't know if she stood a chance in a duel with You-Know-Who. She was honest enough to admit that it might be the end of her, but that wouldn't stop her from trying.

The anger and pain on Isobel's face eased. "Your arms must be getting heavy. You can give Robbie to me for a while if you want." Minerva's arms were fine. But she could tell that after dragging up the memory of her son's death, her mother felt the need to hold her great-grandson to soothe the ache in her heart that would always be there.

Minerva gave the baby to her and then stood to stretch her legs for a bit. Perhaps she would go to the kitchen and see if Catriona had left some of that pudding for her. When she saw a brilliant light in the corner of her eye, Minerva thought that it must have been nothing more than a reflection in the window – from the candles on the Christmas tree or the exploding cards the others played with. But once she turned her head, she saw that the light was on the other side of the glass. It was soft at first and then glowed brighter as it came closer.

For a moment Minerva saw the phoenix very clearly as it flew past the house. It didn't have Fawkes' magnificent red-and-gold plumage, but its silvery blazing wings possessed a different kind of ethereal beauty. It wasn't a real phoenix. It was a Patronus. It didn't come inside to deliver a message, but it didn't need to. Its mere presence was the message. Or perhaps a question. Minerva didn't hesitate to answer it.

"I'm taking a walk," she told her mother.

Isobel gave her a shrewd look. "Tell Albus I said hello – and tell him to show his face every once in a while."

Minerva bit down on the inside of her cheek so she wouldn't laugh. Then she bundled up and stepped outside. After the warmth and light of the house it was terribly cold and dark out here at first. But the further Minerva walked, the more she began to enjoy the tranquillity. The snow beneath her feet made soft crunching noises but swallowed every other sound. Once her eyes had become accustomed to the dimness, she saw little snow crystals glittering on the trees everywhere. She took a deep breath and watched it condense as she exhaled.

It was a peaceful December night and Minerva didn't even bother to keep one hand close to the wand in her pocket. She could feel Albus close by even before he became visible and she knew that she was perfectly safe.

"You could have just knocked on the front door and actually come inside the house," she greeted him.

He smiled at her, his hair and beard gleaming almost as brightly as the snow. "I thought I'd stop by to let you know that Arthur is recovering nicely. He was able to spend Christmas with his family – in the hospital, of course, but under the circumstances that's still something to be thankful for."

"That's wonderful to hear," Minerva agreed happily. "How was Christmas dinner with Dolores?" she then asked, grimacing.

"I think you would have enjoyed it, actually," Albus said, laughing softly.

"Why? Was she not there?"

"Oh, she was there. For a time. You see, I offered her a Christmas cracker to break the ice. I expected there to be one of those funny hats inside or some sweets. And there were, sort of. You know those Cockroach Clusters you got Fawkes addicted to years ago? Unfortunately, these ones were still alive and they really enjoyed sticking themselves to that fluffy pink cardigan she wears. Dolores seemed to think I had done that on purpose. I told her I'm not one for practical jokes, though I suppose I wouldn't know as no one ever played one on me. Anyway, she didn't believe me and she refused my help and left tragically early. She never got to taste the Christmas treacle tart."

Minerva stared at him and then burst out laughing. "I'm a little offended that happened when I wasn't there to see it."

"Well, I hope you've been enjoying yourself without the need for such unfortunate accidents," Albus subtly tried to change the subject. Perhaps he was afraid that hearing about this incident would give her bad ideas. "I didn't mean to steal you away from everyone."

"Don't be silly," Minerva said, stepping closer to him. "I'm glad you told me about Arthur doing well and I'm glad you're here. You deserve to be with family as well."

Albus nodded slowly. "Perhaps I'll swing by the Hog's Head on my way back."

"You know that's not what I meant, but it's good, too," Minerva said. All she wanted was for him not to be alone. "Tell Aberforth I said to show some Christmas spirit and to be nice to you."

"No, I don't think I will," Albus refused, frowning. "That doesn't sound like something a grown man should need someone else to say to his brother."

"There's no shame in admitting that he's more likely to listen to me because he likes me better," Minerva told him.

"I don't know if it's shameful or not, but it's certainly understandable. I happen to like you better, too," Albus quipped.

Minerva shook her head. "Liking me is just easier for him because I didn't grow up with him. I didn't live through your pain," she explained softly, thinking back to her conversation with her mother. "If my family had lost Robert so young, we wouldn't be the same people we are today either."

Looking at her thoughtfully, Albus said, "I'm not sure I agree with that. Tragedy doesn't have to bring out the worst in people. I find that it can just as easily do the opposite. Especially if being a wonderful person was always in your blood."

The warmth of his voice and his gaze made her take another step closer, seeking out the solid feel of him. She was just going to ask him one more time. "Come inside with me. No one else is here. No one will know."

Albus smiled at her lovingly, but his smile was a little sad. "Some things are too precious to risk, no matter how small."

He had chosen his words in a way that made her think of little Robbie and that made it impossible for her to argue.

"I just wanted to see you for a moment. And thank you for being the family I never imagined I would be lucky enough or even deserved to have again." He cupped her face and his kiss lingered on her lips so tenderly that Minerva wanted to drag this moment out until infinity. "Merry Christmas, my love."

A/N: There you go – a chapter without Umbridge, at least without her making an actual appearance. Consider it a very early Christmas present, haha, even though it's not quite Christmas season yet. But it is finally getting a little colder where I am, so writing this almost got me in the mood. And it really made me wish for snow. Which I know I won't get. But oh well, a girl can dream.