A/N: Well, I guess I'm doing good at this update-once-a-semester thing. Hopefully more chapters will be able to come out later this summer, because a) it's summer and b) we're closing in on the part of the story that I've been looking the most forward to writing (which, incidently, also happens to be summer).

I hereby dedicate this chapter to Ceeti, who not only signed onto AIM twice in one month, but also updated The Rising of a Lion. Go her.

Chapter Twenty-Five: In which Armando comes back

April 5, 1945 -

Raquel had not been joking. After just a few hours of grueling physical therapy, Armando Dippet could not decide what was more painful: losing the ability to walk or getting it back. At the end of one particularly intense session, he floated in a pool of water, clinging to a rail on the side for dear life and gasping for breath. Charms had been placed on the pool to prevent drowning, but he knew there were several other ways to die in his current state that did not involve water. Raquel was standing a few feet away, taking some notes on her clipboard.

"Very good today, Armando," she said in Spanish, the language with which she was more comfortable, and dipped her quill in a vial of ink attached to the clipboard. "You've made excellent progress. I will submit my report to a senior Healer and he will decide when you should return. Any questions?"

"Si," Dippet said after catching his breath. Continuing in Spanish, he said, "Will I ever play the violin again?"

Raquel let out a soft, carefree laugh, then returned to her writing.

"I meant that," her patient said.

She smiled at him reassuringly. "Someone will be along shortly to help you out," she informed him, then exited the area.

A tall, burly wizard named Hector came by in about five minutes to help Dippet. An hour later, Hogwarts's headmaster was dried off and receiving last-minute instructions from Raquel in the lobby before returning to his school by Portkey.

"You are to return in ten day's time, on the evening of the fifteenth of April," Raquel was saying. "You will be departing two days later, on the evening of the seventeenth of April. I will be your caretaker then as well. By then you will have progressed to the point where you will not to stay at San Cliodne if you do not wish to. Would you like us to arrange for lodging here in Barcelona?"

"No, thank you," Dippet answered. "I grew up in Tarragona, and have inherited my mother's house there. I would like to stay there if it possible to arrange for transportation."

"Is the house connected to the Floo network?"

"No; it has been uninhabited for years."

"If you provide me with the necessary information, I can see that it is connected for the duration of your stay."

He thanked her and promised to send her the information when he got to Hogwarts.

Hector came by and handed Raquel a cane. She thanked him, then gave her attention to Dippet as Hector walked away. "You are to spend a minimum of half an hour per day on your feet," she instructed, and held out the cane. "It does not have to be all at once. Walk if you can."

The previous day, Dippet had taken three shaky, excruciating steps while relying extensively on a cane. The experience, though painful, had also been very uplifting. He took the cane from his designated caretaker. "Is there anything else?"

"There is always something else." Raquel's tone was stern, but her face betrayed the smile she was trying to hide. "Don't think you can get away with doing less than the required amount of work. That cane is jinxed to prod you in the back nonstop if it thinks you aren't going to meet your quota."

A jinxed cane. Terrific. "I'll… keep that in mind." Then, almost teasingly, he added, "Is there anything else?"

She stopped trying to hide her smile. "Yes, but that is enough for now. See you in ten days."

The last thought to go through Dippet's mind as he sat down in his wheelchair and before the world around him vanished was how Hogwarts fared during his absence.

"Well, Gryffindor's stopped talking about it, at least from what I can see," Minerva McGonagall reported as she entered Albus Dumbledore's office after classes that day. "Any response from the Prophet?"

"None," Dumbledore answered. Frustration lingered in his voice. "I doubt they would have believed me if they weren't able to confirm the wand I brought back had indeed belonged to Erich Rainier." He sighed and rubbed his brow. "We have to keep trying, though. We must convince people of the truth while the lies are still fresh in their minds."

Minerva nodded in agreement, sighed, and stared at the ceiling. More than anything she wanted to find out who was behind all this. She felt honor-bound to track down Grindelwald's insider and expose whoever it may be, especially because she already knew – it was just being kept a secret inside her own mind. Why couldn't she remember that? She must have looked at every student, faculty, or staff member at least twice since that night – why hadn't any of them triggered a reaction like seeing the picture of Dumbledore's sister had?

Another thought occurred to her, and she dropped her gaze to meet Dumbledore's. "When is Professor Dippet returning?"

Dumbledore gave a jolt and whipped his head around to look at the clock on the far wall. "He was due back five minutes ago."

"Oh, terrific," Minerva said with a groan. "How do we explain this to him?"

"Leave that to me," Dumbledore said. He indicated a stack of papers on his desk. "Would you mind correcting your class's test? I meant to do it, but the fifth-years took longer than I expected."

"Of course. Where's the answer key?"

"I never use an answer key. If you feel the need for one, just use your test." He planted a quick kiss on her cheek and then glided away.

Minerva watched him go, then touched the spot on her cheek that he kissed. It was still tingling. She was so thankful they'd worked out their problems. The most difficult part may still lie ahead, but at least they would have each other and face it together.

Dumbledore found the headmaster in his office, reading a stack of papers. For a moment, the Transfiguration instructor feared Dippet had discovered the Daily Prophet article about Hogwarts, but relaxed when he saw that the papers were single-sheets and only printed on one side. Dippet looked up from them to acknowledge Dumbledore. "Ah, Albus. Bueno verle."

Dumbledore spoke many languages, but Spanish was not one of them. He blinked and wrinkled his brow. "Pardon?"

"I'm sorry," Dippet said, shaking his head. "I seem to have forgotten where I am. It's good to see you, Albus."

"What are you reading?" Dumbledore enquired.

"Catching up on the quarterly report from the governors," Dippet answered. "My attentions, regrettably, have been diverted to other subjects since first receiving this."

"As all of ours have," Dumbledore said, pondering whether or not now was really the best time to inform Dippet of the situation.

Dippet set the papers down and looked directly at Dumbledore. "I know you didn't come here to make small talk. What's troubling you?"

"There was another attack on the school," Dumbledore began, "in the form of libel. They've marked the school as unsafe, the students as treacherous, the staff as helpless, and you as a fugitive. We've been doing as much damage control as we can, but it's not enough. The school's reputation may be forever tainted."

Dippet's face became very grim. "I will not allow that," he said quietly, but sternly. "This school, which has stood for a thousand years, will not crumble under a few choice words. We must make the public see that."

"I should not have killed Grindelwald," Dumbledore mused. "The truth died with him."

"You did not mean to kill him, Albus, but that cannot be changed. Just because a solution is not apparent does not mean that one doesn't exist."

Always a Ravenclaw, thinking analytically, Dumbledore thought. He could think similarly when called upon, but he was better at seeing the big picture rather than dealing with the pieces that made it up on a case-by-case basis. That was why he and Dippet worked well together – their different thinking processes maintained balance at Hogwarts.

Dippet sighed, looked down at the papers, then looked back up at Dumbledore again a beat later. "And Indira? Dare I ask?"

Dumbledore didn't dare answer.

Dippet sighed again and drummed his fingers against the surface of his desk for a few moments. "May I see the article?"

Dumbledore produced the article from inside his robe and levitated it over to Dippet. "There's more," the deputy headmaster said as Dippet began to read. "We don't believe it was really Neil Stone who was behind the attacks."

Dippet couldn't help noticing Dumbledore's repeated use of the word "we" and yet no elaboration on who "we" were. "What makes you think that?" Though Neil Stone certainly didn't meet the profile of anyone they would have pinned the attacks on, the unfortunate circumstance of being a blood relative of Grindelwald did not work in the dead young man's favor.

"If it was him, then the truth would have been printed, not this," Dumbledore said. "Grindelwald wanted Indira dead, and whoever provided a means for him to enter Hogwarts must have certainly shared the same sentiments. By exposing and attacking her like this, they're continuing his work."

A chill ran up the headmaster's spine, and he gave a shudder as he realized where Dumbledore was going with this. "You think she's still in danger."

"Yes. And I believe someone else is, too."

This time, it was the absence of the word "we" that caught Dippet's attention. "Who?"

Dumbledore's stomach tied itself in a knot as he prepared to say the name. Not even she knew he thought she was in danger. "Minerva McGonagall."

"Albus…"

"She is the only one on our side who knows the whole truth," Dumbledore said fervently. "It may remain locked in her mind forever, or it may emerge at any time. If I were the enemy, I would take no chances with her."

"Be careful, Albus," said Dippet. "Your friendship with that girl has raised quite a few eyebrows in the past. The last thing any of us need right now is for someone to suspect you and her are getting too close."

Dumbledore had the slightest fear that Dippet suspected something, and figured the safest option would be to steer away from that subject immediately.

Fortunately, Dippet did it for him. "I will personally write to the Daily Prophet. If necessary, I will refer them to my caretaker at San Cliodne for proof of my admittance and treatment. The stronger we stand together behind the truth, the greater chance it has to overshadow the lies." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "There is one other who could help us, but I doubt it will be easy to persuade her."

"Absolutely not."

That was all Indira Nay had to say to Armando Dippet's proposal.

"Indira, please," Dippet pleaded as she walked to the opposite end of the living area of her chambers. "You can't hide like this forever."

She stopped when she reached the far wall, then turned around and faced him. "Oh, yes I can," she replied. "Why can't they just let it go?"

"Innocent people are dead because they stood between Grindelwald and you," Dippet said. He pondered telling her Dumbledore's suspicions about Neil Stone's innocence, but then decided it would be better to not let her know there was a chance her attacker was still at large. There was no need to add to her burden.

Indira sighed. "What would you have me do, Armando? The truth is out and yet people refuse to believe it."

"I know, I know; leave that to me," said Dippet. "Hogwarts needs you to stand by it and remain strong.

She began to walk back toward him again. "And you?"

He had a feeling where she was going with this, but in case it was wrong, he decided he should play dumb as long as possible. "I need your help in aiding the school on its path to recovery from this tragedy."

"Of course." She was now standing beside his wheelchair, but facing the opposite direction he was. "I will do whatever I must." She let out a heavy sigh and covered her face with her hands. "This is all my fault…"

"It is not!" Dippet insisted. "How could you think that?"

"I do not think, Armando, I know," she replied. "If it were not for me, Grindelwald would never have set his sights on Hogwarts."

That was probably true, but she could not be held at fault for that. "This was not of your making, Indira," he said. "He could not have been stopped. And in some ways, we can even find relief in this event. Grindelwald is dead now – he can never harm another person. The wizarding world was at war, and although the casualties of war are sad, all are for a greater cause."

"I have seen and known more suffering in twenty years than most ever do in their lifetimes," Indira said quietly. "The path to happiness is paved with despair."

He didn't like where it sounded she was going with this. "Indira…"

He reached over and touched her on the arm. She dropped her hands and looked at him. His hand slid down the length of her arm as it was lowered, and found her hand. He intended to pull it away, but she was holding on to it. "I accepted long ago that I would never find true happiness," she said, and turned her head toward him, "but if by my pain others can find solace, then so be it."

That was probably the most un-Slytherin thing he'd ever heard someone from that house say.

A glint of anger flashed in her green eyes for a moment, and she said, "But if anyone ever dares dishonor the memory of my family as they did in that horrible newspaper article, they will pay for it in blood."

And the Slytherin emerges again, he thought, though he could hardly blame her. The Rahminis had, after all, hailed from a culture that placed an incredibly high value on family and honor.

The anger faded quickly and was replaced by sadness. "Armando, do you know what the happiest moment in the last twenty years of my life was?"

He didn't, and nor did he expect the answer she gave him.

"The night Grindelwald came here, when we kissed on top of the Astronomy tower."

Dippet's stomach gave a jolt, and he involuntarily gripped her hand harder.

"I have thought about that event many, many times since it happened," she said.

Fearfully, he asked, "Did you ever wish anything came of it?"

"Yes," came her whispered reply.

They looked at each other for a long time after that, neither speaking, and barely breathing as they absorbed the other's presence. Both felt as though a great weight had been lifted, and yet at the same time, new feelings of confusion arose, as neither had been in this sort of situation before, and they didn't know how to proceed.

It was Dippet who eventually made the next move. "I think being away from Hogwarts might help you."

She sighed and shook her head. "No. That's running away. I'd rather finish out the year before I leave."

"I don't mean it like that," he said quickly. "I mean… for a weekend or so. In ten days, I must return to Spain, and I would like you to come with me."

Indira studied him for a moment, then gave her answer. "Yes," she said. "Yes, I would like that very much."