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Disclaimer: JK lives in Scotland – I only wish I did. 'nough said.
Chapter Four: Explanations.
The Professors paused in front of a stone gargoyle.
"Fizzing Wizzbies" After the gargoyle moved aside, the small group stepped onto the stone escalator. Meidh began to notice a peaceful feeling starting to settle over her.
When did that begin? she wondered. The feeling had become so foreign that she had almost forgotten what it felt like. At the top of the escalator Dumbledore beckoned them inside. Once everyone was seated he began questioning the young woman.
"How much do you know about your family, how far back?"
"I know a bit about my great-grandparents but not much more than that. Wh…?"
Dumbledore held up his hand to stop the question.
"I will explain everything shortly. What do you know of magic?"
"Abracadabra, smoke, bangs, mirrors, and the like? Never learned much about it. Fun to watch but not really my thing."
"What of magic such as…" he pulled out his wand. "Wingardium Leviosa" one of the small silver instruments on his desk began to rise.
"Umm … Professor…" Meidh began. "That's not magic, that's telekinesis. A rare gift granted that usually takes a traumatic event or great emotional turmoil at a fairly young age for it to manifest."
"But not magic?" Dumbledore clarified.
"No, it's supernatural sure, but not magic. It's really not a big deal. For example…" Without taking her eyes off Dumbledore or saying a word Meidh's bag began to float up from where she had placed it next to her chair. With the ease of practiced movements, the purse opened and out came an old tome.
"See, no magic – simply telekinesis." The book sat in her lap, her purse closed and sat back down next to her chair. McGonagall was dumbfounded. She had heard of people with so-called telekinesis but they were usually near squibs with only limited access to their magical abilities.
"Miss McRobertson magic is real and I have reason to believe you are the first witch in your family in over 900 years. Through your father's mother, evidenced by that book you hold in your lap." Dumbledore moved over to the fireplace and after throwing a handful of powder in it he called out,
"Dobby, come up to my office please." After seating himself back down he explained. "Your ancestor knew that the magic in you line was becoming dormant and would remain that way for a long time. He decided to leave some… necessary items in the care of the Hogwarts headmaster until such time as the magic re-surfaced."
"You called Dobby, your headmastership sir" the small figure appeared in the fireplace. Meidh stared; she had never seen anything like it before.
"Yes, Dobby, could you bring up the McRobertson chest out of the house-elf quarters please."
"Certainly your headmastership, sir, Dobby is pleased to help." With a step back into the fireplace and a whoosh he was gone.
Meidh began to feel dizzy. She knew a bad migraine wasn't far behind. She needed to leave. Suddenly, determined not to be screaming in pain in front of the professors, she stood and grabbed her purse, stumbling toward the door. Knowing she had nearly run out of time, she opened her purse and found the pill bottle, but the effort was in vain. Pain shot through her head and down her spine, unable to hold it in any longer she let out a scream. The glass nearest to her shattered as McGonagall and Dumbledore rushed to her side. Knowing Madam Pomfrey would be able to help the young woman better than they could they magic-ed her onto a stretcher and gathered up her things. On the way to the hospital wing, Dumbledore cast a silencing spell on the screaming woman.
Madam Pomfrey came bustling out of her office as soon as the door opened. Once Meidh had been placed on the bed, Pomfrey ran through her tests. Quickly figuring out what the problem was she sent McGonagall for a bright blue potion at the back of her cupboard. Dumbledore showed Pomfrey the bottle that Meidh had been trying to open before she collapsed. McGonagall returned with the potion. Between the three adults they managed to make Meidh drink it. Her silent screams immediately ceased and the patient fell into a deep, calm sleep. Madam Pomfrey motioned to the professors that she would speak with them further away, not wanting to wake her patient.
"Was that what I think it was?" Dumbledore asked the mediwitch.
"Of course, it was by far the worst I have witnessed, but she finally came into her powers and adapted to her magic."
"I was under the impression that this type of process is uneventful and gradual, completed by the time a child reaches his or her fifth year."
The Mediwitch nodded, "Usually but if the power manifests itself late it can be mistaken for a muggle migraine." She held out the bottle of pills. "If she took these every time it manifested, then her magic would become blocked. The longer she took the worse the final adaptation would be. If she had waited much longer, it could have killed her."
McGonagall looked shocked, but Dumbledore simply nodded sadly, "Is there anything we can do for her?"
"For the next 48 hours I would prefer to keep her sedated. Then she is going to require a long explanation and more bed-rest."
"Very well, Poppy please let me know when she wakes." The professors took their leave of the hospital wing. After the doors closed McGonagall turned to Dumbledore.
"She will need support and training or there will be many problems, Albus"
"Yes, but first I need to send some owls."
Two days later:
Dumbledore sat at his desk and frowned at the letter he had just received. The North American Minister of Magic was more of a fool that Fudge. The Headmasters along with the minister refused to accept muggle-born students unless their talents rivaled that of an above-average pure blood. The fire flared and out stepped Madam Pomfrey.
"Headmaster, Miss McRobertson will be waking up shortly, her adaptation to magic should be complete."
"Thank-you, Poppy. I'll head down in a moment." After Pomfrey left, Dumbledore sighed and placed the letter back in its envelope.
A half-hour later Meidh started to stir. Dumbledore and Pomfrey moved over to one side of the bed. Meidh groaned and began to feel for an I.V. It was the easiest sure-fire way to know whether or not the migraine had landed her in the hospital. Feeling none she smiled but still didn't open her eyes.
"Miss McRobertson, wake up," Dumbledore called softly.
"I am awake." She mumbled, "And I am not opening my eyes; it hurts too much."
"What hurts?"
"The light hurts my eyes. Where's Peanuts?" she asked.
"Nuts are not something for you to eat right now." The Professor admonished.
"That joke got old 6 months after I named him." Meidh said exasperated. "Where's my dog?"
"He wasn't with you on the trip, remember?" Dumbledore explained.
"Crap. Ok, hang on." She attempted to sit up. Placing a hand over her eyes Meidh began the sometimes-slow process of adjusting to the light. Usually she managed to get her bedroom so the dim light was easier to adjust to. After several minutes she completely removed her hand and focused her sight on the relieved adults.
"Miss McRobertson, I need to speak to you about many things once Madam Pomfrey says you're ready to go."
"Honestly sir, all I need is something light to eat and some cool water and I'll be fine."
"I shall tell you when you're fine Miss McRobertson" Madam Pomfrey admonished. Meidh huffed. She folded her arms over her chest muttering under her breath how she detested pushy medical personnel, hospital beds, and hospitals in general. Dumbledore smiled and took his leave.
Much to Meidh's disgust Pomfrey insisted that she stay the night. That night she had the first nightmare in over a week…
'She was standing over the open grave of her brother watching helplessly as they lowered him in. She wanted to shout and scream at them. Her brother wasn't dead; he couldn't be dead. As hard as she tried to scream or even move at all she couldn't, she simply stood there watching and crying.
Suddenly the scene shifted and she saw her father. He was lying in the hospital bed, nearly the same color as the sheets on his bed. The doctor looked at her sympathetically and said something she didn't hear. There was no need. Eleven days had passed since the accident, the only thing holding her father there were the machines pumping oxygen in and out. He woke only once in the eleven days. Although he couldn't speak, he smiled at her and for a second his eyes held that special twinkle he reserved for her. Softly squeezing her hand, his eyes held the message she had been waiting for.
I understand. I'm ready when you are. It had taken her another six days before she was ready. She discussed it at length with the doctor and decided it was time to let her father go. He finished his race; it was time for her to continue on hers alone. After the machines had been removed, she climbed into bed with him. Something she hadn't done since she was 9, she laid her head on his chest and watched his face as the last traces of life ebbed from him. After he was declared dead she mechanically did the necessary papers. The only thing she could say was "he's gone, he's gone." It repeated itself like a mantra over and over.'
Madam Pomfrey was worried about her patient. Meidh's cries had awoken the mediwitch over a half-hour ago. As much as she may have wanted to wake the girl, it was dangerous to simply wake a person in the middle of a nightmare, especially with magic. With a gasp, Meidh awoke. After she had finally calmed, Meidh refused to tell Pomfrey anything.
"It was nothing that can't be helped with time, or so I've been told," she explained.
It was late the next afternoon before Pomfrey let Meidh out of the hospital wing. Pomfrey was reluctant to allow Meidh out but could find nothing medically wrong with the young woman. At Dumbledore's suggestion McGonagall offered Meidh her guest room to stay in. Meidh reluctantly accepted. She settled down in the pale blue and green room for a, hopefully restful, sleep.
After breakfast the next day, Dumbledore once again escorted McGonagall and Meidh to his office. He sat and studied the young woman. After a few long minutes he began.
"As I began telling you the other day, magic is real." He held up his hand to stifle her protests. "What you think right now, whether I am right, or you are is irrelevant. One of your ancestors knew that the magic in his line was going to become dormant for many generations. He chose to leave some items he felt should be passed on to any future witches or wizards his family may have. He placed them in this chest and convinced the Headmaster of Hogwarts to keep it safe until such time as it was needed. Only a member of the family may open it. The key for the lock is a strand of your hair." Meidh looked at Dumbledore speechless.
When she recovered her powers of speech, she looked at Dumbledore and said, "Sir, if that's the case may I please look at it in private. Should I require an explanation for anything I will be sure to ask."
Deciding to respect her decision, Dumbledore agreed. "Minerva, would you take the trunk down to Miss McRobertson's room for her?" McGonagall nodded. With a wave of her wand and a muttered 'locomotor trunks' the two women took their leave of the headmaster.
Once in the common room that linked all of McGonagall's rooms together, McGonagall moved to hover the trunk over to Meidh's room when the young woman stopped her.
"Please Professor, I would feel much better if you would look through it with me for a while." She stifled the coming protest quietly, "I couldn't bear to be around the headmaster much longer. He reminds me so much of my father that it hurts to look him in the eye. Dumbledore is a lot like my father," she paused, thinking about the twinkle in her father's eyes then in the headmaster's... the good and the bad.
"How long has it been since you lost your father?"
"Almost three months, I think, time had no meaning after so I'm not positive." Meidh moved over to the trunk and slipped in a strand of hair as she had been told. The lock sprang open as if it was brand-new. Cautiously opening the lid she peeked inside. The first thing that got her attention was a broom tucked in-between everything. Carefully she removed it from the trunk. It was… magnificent. There's no other word that works. Engraved on the sides of the handle were the words 'McRobertson Family Broom.' She ran her hand down the top of the wood, inspecting it as her father had taught her. Every piece of wood she used was inspected before it was developed. Suddenly, she let out a shout as she ran her hand over the top. Her name appeared down it. McGonagall looked over and gently took the broom.
"A great treasure indeed," she murmured, looking over at Meidh she explained, "In ancient times it was customary to have a broom made specifically for a family. As each child had its turn using the broom his or her name would appear on the handle like this. The broom will not work well for anyone else. A true gift indeed."
Grinning at her good fortune and her ancestor's foresight, she dug into the chest again. Books were the next items she reached for. They were titles she had never seen before. Hogwarts: the First Century of Learning, Potions: Poisons and Antidotes, and a journal were on top of the stack. McGonagall looked amused. The young woman had no idea how valuable the contents were. Deciding an elegant exit would be prudent she got Meidh's attention.
"I'll leave you to look through your books. If you need me simply knock on my door."
"Please wait just a moment then, I'll pull the rest of it out before I inspect anything." Reaching back into the chest Meidh pulled out a key, a ring, a necklace with a curious pendant and a bundle of clothes. Shaking out the bundle she found a pair of gloves, a tie, sweater and a black cloak with a crest on what would be the wearer's left hand side of his or her chest.
Recognition lit up McGonagall's eyes, "the tie, jumper, and cloak belong to the Gryffindor school uniform. The gloves are dragon hide and very useful. As for the other items, the key will be for your family's vault at Gringotts, the wizard's bank, and the ring and necklace I assume would be protection charms for your family. The journal will probably contain an explanation for everything."
"Thank you for all your help, Professor. I think I am going to curl up in the armchair and read the journal. One would suspect that it contains what information is needed. After all, how else am I going to find out?" Meidh murmured hesitantly.
McGonagall smiled and bid goodnight. Pocketing the key and jewelry, she returned the clothes and all the books except the journal to the trunk. After closing the lid, she placed the broom on top and curled up in the armchair. Opening the book she read the first few lines. 'To Whomever receives this journal: Welcome, I can only guess how long it has been since I wrote this but, I imagine it has been many, many years. This journal contains all the information and explanations I thought were necessary. First, the key is for our family's Gringotts vault number 1976. The contents belong to you, enjoy. Second, the necklace is our family protection charm, please put it on and never take it off. Many families have these but it is imperative that it is worn – even to bed and in the bath. There is more to that necklace than even I know. The ring is what muggles call a claddagh ring. It was the one that I gave my wife when we were married. If you wear it on your right hand, on the smallest finger it can enhance the effects of the necklace.'
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Phew, done another one…
Jelly Slugs for all my reviewers!
Pegasus63 – I'm aiming for updating every 2 weeks, my work schedule isn't really favorable to much more than that, plus real-life tends to do that annoying interrupting thing.
Fahzzyquill – I hope this answered some of your questions and as for the others – I'm pulling a JK and not telling. I don't want to spoil it.
Poppiecake – Thanks for the info. Caelan is pronounced like Kee-lan.
Wildfire – Thanks!
Mystic -- :) kick Nessa for me so she reads this. TY. ;-)