Disclaimer: Aww, you know already. Blah, blah, blah, don't sue, blah, blah
A/N: It's a short chapter, I know, but I couldn't launch into anything more without a huge chapter, so there you go.
And now...Chapter 17 – St. Mungo's
Albus was seated at Nicholas' bedside in Saint Mungo's Hospital when Perenelle, Minerva, Nate and Howard arrived. He had been keeping a vigil over both Nicholas and Elijah, who had been placed in the short-term care ward on the fourth floor. Albus imagined that Magical Law Enforcement would not be far behind. He had contacted them as well, though admittedly, he had done so after he'd contacted Nicholas and Elijah's family. So far, no one in Elijah's family had appeared and Albus was not certain how to take that.
Perenelle raced to the bedside, faster than Albus could ever have imagined a woman of her years moving. "Ohh, Nicholas!" she cried, as she surveyed her unconscious husband. He would recover, of course; of that Albus had been assured by the healers. However, he would require several potions and close care for a week, approximately, but there would be no lasting damage to mind or body.
Albus immediately relinquished his chair, drawing another one up next to Elijah, who had suffered permanent damage. His leg had been so completely destroyed that no amount of skel-o-grow would repair what had been lost. He was permanently handicapped, and Albus had cast the spell that did the damage. The healers had given Elijah a sleeping draft, and it had rendered him unconscious as well.
"Albus, what has taken place this evening? You told us nothing of Lorelei or how this happened?" Perenelle said in a soft, but demanding tone as she stroked her husband's hair. Albus noticed her hand was shaking slightly, and he felt a pang that there was no one left who held that type of regard for him.
"Lorelei – Lorelei is..." he didn't want to say it aloud. There was little point in denying it now, and yet part of him still wanted to do so. He put his face in his hands and wept, ignoring the numerous spectators and the fact that the Magical Law Enforcement was due at any moment. He felt arms enfold him, but did not look up to see who. He only knew it was a woman and that her soft skin and satiny robe could so easily become Lorelei's to his devastated heart; for a moment he allowed himself to believe it was her -- that she wasn't dead. It did help him control the waves of sorrow slightly, and the tears slowed, though did not cease entirely.
"I'm so, so sorry," a voice with a light Scottish accent said in his ear. "She will be sorely missed." He felt Minerva's breathing grow slightly rougher; she was crying as well. Minerva and Lorelei had become close friends; Lorelei was gifted in that regard and made friends so easily.
Albus pulled from Minerva's embrace and turned his attention back to the rest of the group. "Grindelwald or one of his loyal followers was controlling Elijah, but I'm uncertain for how long. I never saw Grindelwald again after the fight that killed Lorelei, and I was not myself, or I might have noticed sooner that Elijah was not himself."
"Did Elijah do this?" Perenelle asked, gesturing toward her unconscious husband.
"Yes, though not of his own free will," Albus replied.
"And Elijah's injury, was that your work?" Howard asked. "I mean, his leg is gone!"
"Yes, Howard, I am entirely responsible for that," Albus responded. He didn't defend himself. He would have preferred not to have inflicted permanent damage, and he could see by the young man's expression that his actions would not be easily accepted anyway.
"Then I'd like you to give me one good reason why I shouldn't throw you in Azkaban for life!" a voice said from the door. Albus looked up into the angry face of Bartemius Crouch. He was accompanied by two young Aurors, Leonard Brennan and Timothy McCleary, both of whom Albus had taught transfiguration. McCleary automatically leveled his wand at Albus warningly, though his hand shook violently.
There were good reasons that Albus should not be sent to Azkaban, though at the moment, he could not think of any. What he knew was that the trap had failed, Lorelei was dead, Nicholas was unconscious and would remain so for days, and Elijah would never stand on his own two feet again. Minerva stepped between Crouch and Albus, and Nate joined her shortly, both of them holding their wands threateningly. But it was the weak voice of Elijah that provided the reason. "Because he did only what he had to do, Sir. I was being controlled and doing things I never, ever would have and I attacked him."
Albus looked at Elijah, barely believing that a man could have been so injured and still defend the one who injured him. Certainly he deserved to hold a grudge. "I am sorry, Albus," Elijah added, licking his dry lips and taking a ragged breath.
"Are you – are you in much pain?" Minerva asked him kindly.
"No," he answered, "The healers have seen to that, though I am so very thirsty."
Minerva hurriedly conjured a glass and filled it with water from her wand. Then she helped him to sip. When he finished, Albus interjected, "I'm sorry, Elijah. I wish I could undo what I have done and I..."
"I remember everything," Elijah interrupted. "It's strange – I was there, but completely in another's control, though I do not know his name. But once he reports to his master, if he hasn't already, then your trap will have been destroyed because of me. I didn't shake it – didn't really try. It was – it was a nice feeling.." Eyes filled with shame, Elijah shed a few tears.
"You are not to blame, Elijah," Perenelle reminded, turning fully to face his end of the ward and tilting her head with a sympathetic look. Given the fact that she was worrying about her injured husband, it was a kind admission.
"Were you under control the whole time?" Albus questioned, though he wasn't sure of the reason. He saw Crouch, McCleary, and Brennan move closer. He looked up at each, quickly making eye contact and searching for more under mind control. All three were readable, though Crouch was more difficult. Albus knew that to be normal. Crouch had studied occlumency, though had never mastered it completely.
"No," Elijah answered belatedly. "It was after the fire whiskey arrived. I made eye contact with the bar owner, only it was not Jeffers. They looked so similar that I'm not even sure how long the replacement was hanging around. I opened my mouth to say something, but was never able to. After that I felt a pleasant sensation and was ordered to do things that I just – I just –" he hung his head, breathing heavily and staring despondently at the single lump beneath the blanket.
Albus placed a hand on his shoulder. "Many do not have the power to ignore such curses, Elijah." He followed the man's gaze and felt another rush of horror at his own actions. "And again, I am so, so sorry for what I have done to you." He knew he probably sounded foolish, repeatedly apologizing, and the words could not make up for the permanent loss of a limb, but Albus could not stop, such was his remorse.
"I'm alive," Elijah returned, surprisingly philosophical. "I know that with the spells I was compelled to use against you, I'm very lucky to be still breathing. I wish – I wish the trap had not been destroyed though. Is there any stopping it?"
"Without knowing the man who was controlling you, our chances of finding him and stopping him in time are slim. Grindelwald will not know the source of my spells, but he will probably just remove everything from his person and replace it. If he investigates completely, he will sense the incognus potion and find it out."
"If he's the man who killed Jeffers, he will be telling no tales," Leonard Brennan spoke up. "Adam Fullerton, who I have been pursuing for two weeks, was killed twenty minutes ago in Hogsmeade."
Both Elijah and Albus stared. "Brennan did not witness anything involving Fullerton and mind control though," Crouch stated in a business-like tone, eyeing Albus suspiciously.
Albus nodded his understanding. "I have a pensieve in my living quarters at Hogwarts. If we could be sure it is the same man that spelled Elijah, we would know if there's still hope to catch Grindelwald or not."
Ultimately, Crouch agreed to let Albus go, provided Brennan accompanied him. He was only to retrieve the pensieve and return immediately. They made the trip by the floo network, and quickly stepped through into Albus' private rooms, though they did not intend to be there very long at all. Albus had not realized how hard it would be to step into the places that were full of Lorelei's things. He could hear Hagrid's snores from the other room, reminding him of all the people who had yet to learn of her passing. He could smell the lingering lemon-verbena perfume that was Lorelei's favorite scent, and see the touches she had added to the rooms to make them more comfortable.
He rushed to the cupboard and opened it to get the pensieve, forcing himself not to look at Lorelei's knitting and what he knew he'd see there. He grabbed the large, runed basin almost haphazardly, pulling with it two books and a pair of plum-colored socks, that tumbled to the floor.
"Professor Dumbledore," Leonard Brennan began, "Are you all right?"
"No, I'm not," he admitted, crouching to pick up the items that had fallen. "I don't know that I shall ever be again."