Chapter 22:
I still do not feel as though I have explained myself fully to Severus, but night is growing. We amble our way to Albus' office. Reaching the griffin, we are hailed from behind by Harry Potter. He is dressed smartly, in dark trousers and a deep green jumper.
Severus raises an eyebrow at the ensemble, but I smile and greet him with a hand on his shoulder. All three of us ride the moving staircase in silence. Severus raps smartly on the door to Albus' office. Minerva opened the door and motioned them in.
Albus has not yet descended from his rooms. I can tell Severus is uneasy that Potter managed his way into the meeting. Though I would be among the first to agree, I feel it must be acknowledged that Potter is no longer a boy.
At seventeen he is still young, but his life experience is extraordinaire. He has faced the current embodiment of evil six times and survived. I marvel at that fact. I have faced this incarnation only once, and found myself kneeling in the name of self-preservation. Albus is right to love this young man. I only hope it will be enough.
I have been around him long enough to notice he is fully aware of his separate calling. Though Albus vehemently denies it, I side with Severus that Potter has spent the past few years trained as a weapon. It is part and parcel of the deal. I should know. I have been raised for the same objective. Sadly, for both of us, time is running out.
Once we are settled, with bowls of steaming stew in our hands, Albus makes his appearance. Fawkes alights from his post to land on my uncle's shoulder. I realize, looking around, that everyone in this room, knows I am a Dumbledore.
True, Severus and I have not yet had our fight about this fact, but everyone present has acknowledged it. Albus further enforces this by placing a strong hand on my shoulder and kissing my cheek in a very avuncular fashion.
There are intriguing dynamics at play in this room. I believe everyone, save myself, is torn equally between at least two other people.
I settle myself further into the armchair and begin to eat the stew, Beef Burgundy, I note. Excellent. Everyone follows suit, and for a few minutes we are quiet, munching softly. I clear my mind during the meal, knowing the moments of quiet are coming to and end shortly.
Too soon, Albus magics away the dirty dishes, replacing it with a coffee and tea service. Severus, who is sitting in the chair next to me, leans forward to prepare coffee. I am surprised, as I have noticed my husband does not drink the beverage much favored by the Yanks, of which I have come to be counted with. I watch as he adds one cream and one half sugar. He hands it to me, and smiles disarmingly at the look of astonishment on my face. He knows the way I take my coffee.
It is obvious by the amount of pleasure I derive from this that I am still adjusting to the trivialities of married life. Severus prepares himself tea, and I am careful to take note of the one cream and touch of honey he adds.
"I'm afraid it is time to begin." Albus says strongly. "Severus, would you mind starting?" he asks.
"The attack on Hogwarts has been in place for quite some time. The release of Lucius Malfoy was the final step. Knowing Fudge is still the Minister, despite all the Order's attempts, and that Fudge still purposely ignorant of Malfoy's involvement with the Dark Lord, has allowed the final pieces to fall into place. They have a way in. They will attempt to take Potter. If successful, he will be taken back to the cellar chambers of Riddle Mansion." He intones.
"How will they get into Hogwarts?" Potter demands.
"That is not your concern, Potter." Severus replies icily.
"Severus." Albus says warningly.
"Headmaster," says Severus, standing, "I am perfectly willing to discuss this matter you or Minerva, but I do not feel students should be involved in the planning of such delicate matters."
"Harry is not just a student, Severus, you admit readily to that. Considering the role he is to play tomorrow, I feel it necessary for him to be present this evening."
Severus is momentarily silenced. I agree with Albus.
"At what time is the attack planned?" Minerva asks, cutting to the heart of the matter. Her eyes are gleaming in the firelight. Normally, she is reserved and quite willing to be Albus' shadow of strength and support. Now, however, knowing Albus is there and quite capable himself, she is positively glowing at the idea of open battle.
"High noon." Severus drawls.
My mouth twitches. The image of Severus in leather chaps, ready for a showdown flits through my mind. Eighteen years in the country that invented westerns was too many, as I chastise myself. Sobering back down, I ask the next question.
"Where will they be entering the castle from?"
"From the dungeons. You are expected to be with them." That surprises me.
"Me?"
"Yes. Your loyalty will be proven by allowing Malfoy access to Potter." I turn to Albus, fervently hoping he will condemn the plan. No such proclaimnent issues from his lips.
"Very well, here is how we shall prepare." Albus says, rubbing his hands together. The rest of us lean forward and we set about planning. We do not leave the Headmaster's office until the wee hours, when, very weary, we all trudge off for a few hours necessary rest.
I still do not feel as though I have explained myself fully to Severus, but night is growing. We amble our way to Albus' office. Reaching the griffin, we are hailed from behind by Harry Potter. He is dressed smartly, in dark trousers and a deep green jumper.
Severus raises an eyebrow at the ensemble, but I smile and greet him with a hand on his shoulder. All three of us ride the moving staircase in silence. Severus raps smartly on the door to Albus' office. Minerva opened the door and motioned them in.
Albus has not yet descended from his rooms. I can tell Severus is uneasy that Potter managed his way into the meeting. Though I would be among the first to agree, I feel it must be acknowledged that Potter is no longer a boy.
At seventeen he is still young, but his life experience is extraordinaire. He has faced the current embodiment of evil six times and survived. I marvel at that fact. I have faced this incarnation only once, and found myself kneeling in the name of self-preservation. Albus is right to love this young man. I only hope it will be enough.
I have been around him long enough to notice he is fully aware of his separate calling. Though Albus vehemently denies it, I side with Severus that Potter has spent the past few years trained as a weapon. It is part and parcel of the deal. I should know. I have been raised for the same objective. Sadly, for both of us, time is running out.
Once we are settled, with bowls of steaming stew in our hands, Albus makes his appearance. Fawkes alights from his post to land on my uncle's shoulder. I realize, looking around, that everyone in this room, knows I am a Dumbledore.
True, Severus and I have not yet had our fight about this fact, but everyone present has acknowledged it. Albus further enforces this by placing a strong hand on my shoulder and kissing my cheek in a very avuncular fashion.
There are intriguing dynamics at play in this room. I believe everyone, save myself, is torn equally between at least two other people.
I settle myself further into the armchair and begin to eat the stew, Beef Burgundy, I note. Excellent. Everyone follows suit, and for a few minutes we are quiet, munching softly. I clear my mind during the meal, knowing the moments of quiet are coming to and end shortly.
Too soon, Albus magics away the dirty dishes, replacing it with a coffee and tea service. Severus, who is sitting in the chair next to me, leans forward to prepare coffee. I am surprised, as I have noticed my husband does not drink the beverage much favored by the Yanks, of which I have come to be counted with. I watch as he adds one cream and one half sugar. He hands it to me, and smiles disarmingly at the look of astonishment on my face. He knows the way I take my coffee.
It is obvious by the amount of pleasure I derive from this that I am still adjusting to the trivialities of married life. Severus prepares himself tea, and I am careful to take note of the one cream and touch of honey he adds.
"I'm afraid it is time to begin." Albus says strongly. "Severus, would you mind starting?" he asks.
"The attack on Hogwarts has been in place for quite some time. The release of Lucius Malfoy was the final step. Knowing Fudge is still the Minister, despite all the Order's attempts, and that Fudge still purposely ignorant of Malfoy's involvement with the Dark Lord, has allowed the final pieces to fall into place. They have a way in. They will attempt to take Potter. If successful, he will be taken back to the cellar chambers of Riddle Mansion." He intones.
"How will they get into Hogwarts?" Potter demands.
"That is not your concern, Potter." Severus replies icily.
"Severus." Albus says warningly.
"Headmaster," says Severus, standing, "I am perfectly willing to discuss this matter you or Minerva, but I do not feel students should be involved in the planning of such delicate matters."
"Harry is not just a student, Severus, you admit readily to that. Considering the role he is to play tomorrow, I feel it necessary for him to be present this evening."
Severus is momentarily silenced. I agree with Albus.
"At what time is the attack planned?" Minerva asks, cutting to the heart of the matter. Her eyes are gleaming in the firelight. Normally, she is reserved and quite willing to be Albus' shadow of strength and support. Now, however, knowing Albus is there and quite capable himself, she is positively glowing at the idea of open battle.
"High noon." Severus drawls.
My mouth twitches. The image of Severus in leather chaps, ready for a showdown flits through my mind. Eighteen years in the country that invented westerns was too many, as I chastise myself. Sobering back down, I ask the next question.
"Where will they be entering the castle from?"
"From the dungeons. You are expected to be with them." That surprises me.
"Me?"
"Yes. Your loyalty will be proven by allowing Malfoy access to Potter." I turn to Albus, fervently hoping he will condemn the plan. No such proclaimnent issues from his lips.
"Very well, here is how we shall prepare." Albus says, rubbing his hands together. The rest of us lean forward and we set about planning. We do not leave the Headmaster's office until the wee hours, when, very weary, we all trudge off for a few hours necessary rest.