Previously…
"Harry…What do you think of your guardians?" she asked carefully. Harry's steps faltered slightly in rhythm as he looked at her in startled surprise.
"Ah…you mean my aunt?"
"And Headmaster Dumbledore," Brethany nodded in affirmation. The teenager's gaze lingered on a point just to the left of her face.
"I…would rather be on my own, if that's what you mean. But that won't happen for another ten months." He looked at her matter-of-factly. "Dumbledore has entirely too much power over me for my comfort, even if I do trust him in most things other than my home life." They danced in silence for a long minute.
"I can't even apply for emancipation," he grumbled slightly. "I tried, you know. I've written to the Ministry and to Gringotts for information on the process. I can't be emancipated unless I have valid reasons for doing so…The Ministry doesn't even believe that the Dark Lord is back, much less that their 'hero' is being shoved about by Dumbledore and some muggles…" Brethany frowned, and he hastened to explain, "Dumbledore just orders me around and manipulates me as though I'm some bloody puppet, with strings! He doesn't do that to any other student…he can't. They've got parents," Harry finished bitterly.
Brethany hummed quietly, eyeing her student curiously. So he had been thinking about it… "I'll see what I can do about it, Harry," she promised firmly.
And Now…
"Harry!" Brethany stood on the Quidditch field, waving her arms to catch the teenager's attention. Harry looked down and finally noticed his teacher waiting for him. With a final corkscrew turn in the air, he flew quickly down to the ground and dismounted. "Quite impressive," Brethany told him, a smile on her face. He grinned in answer. His teacher quickly sobered.
"We need to talk."
"Well, that doesn't sound good," Harry spoke cautiously. "Can you hold on a bit, so I can put my broom away?"
"Go ahead. I'll meet you at the Room of Requirement."
"Right." He moved to put the broom across his shoulders and started trudging up towards the castle.
"And Harry?" The teenager looked back at his teacher. "If anyone asks, tell them you'll be training with me for the rest of the afternoon. If it's absolutely necessary for someone to reach you, they're to go to Hagrid; he'll tell them how to contact us." Brethany's expression was grim. "But that's only if there's an emergency. Under no other circumstances is our training session to be interrupted."
Harry swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. "We're not really going to be training, are we?"
"No," Brethany shook her head. "But, we are going to be resolving some issues. It's very important that no one comes looking for us." The teenager frowned, but nodded. He trusted her judgment, for the most part.
The young woman watched as the teenager headed to the castle. This will either alienate him completely, or deepen his trust in me, she mused. Hopefully, it's the latter. Whatever happens, he needs this.
When the two met outside the Room of Requirement, Brethany was ready. "Come on in," she held the door open for him. "I already set it up for us." Harry raised an eyebrow, but entered.
The Room had taken the appearance of the interior of a clothing shop. Racks of robes covered much of the area, and an entire wall was covered with mirrors. Stacks of trousers, shirts, jumpers, and tunics were piled on low tables. Cloaks of every color and material imaginable were spread out over a counter. It was more clothes than Harry had ever dreamed existed.
"What-"
"I'm giving you a new wardrobe," Brethany told him bluntly. "You can't go to the Ministry in your own clothes; they make you look like a schoolboy."
"I am a schoolboy," he retorted. "And there's nothing wrong with my clothes." Harry halted suddenly. "Wait, the Ministry? Why-"
"I'm taking you to the Ministry so we can fill out the necessary paperwork to get you away from those relatives of yours," Brethany explained bluntly. Harry gaped at her in shock. "As your Occlumency teacher, with the magical, physical, mental and emotional bond therein involved, I have the magical and legal right to claim you as my ward. If I were to do so, the Dursleys would have no claim to you, your money, or your political power. Dumbledore would no longer be the authority in your life, which means you would no longer have to return to the Dursleys' for the summer hol's." Harry just stared at her. Brethany sighed, and waved her wand, conjuring up two comfortable chairs.
"Have a seat, Harry." Numbly, the teenager obeyed. "Now, I know I'm throwing this at you out of nowhere, but I just yesterday finished researching all the ins and outs of the situation." She paused. "When you and I were dancing at the Yule Ball, you mentioned just how much you loathed the power Dumbledore has over you. I understand that, and I want to give you a little freedom."
"Er…how does your having control over me give me more freedom," Harry asked in confusion, trying unsuccessfully to bring his thoughts under control.
Brethany sighed. "Come on, Harry, you know me. You've seen inside my head, just like I've seen inside yours. I'm only four and half years older than you are. I know what you want, what you need. When I was your age, I was in two simultaneous apprenticeships; I was completely responsible for myself, but I was also under the control of two different masters. I survived it, and probably learned a lot and became more powerful through it, but I hated the experience. I know what it's like to be pulled in two different directions, and I know how much you hate it. Dumbledore has hold of you, the Ministry has hold of you, the Dursleys have hold of you, and there's not much left of you for just yourself. I can change that, if you'll let me."
Harry stared at her for a long moment. "How?" he finally asked, his eyes calculating.
Brethany heaved a silent sigh of relief. He was at least hearing her out. "Once I have guardianship, I have complete control over you until you come of age at seventeen, less than a year from now, and complete control over your political and economic holdings until you turn twenty-one. This reduces the people who control you down to one. No one else has any control over you, no one else can make decisions about your life, and no one else can claim your holdings. I would be, in essence, a parent.
"The Ministry cannot declare you a ward of the State, an action which would put you firmly in their clutches; Dumbledore cannot claim to be your magical guardian and thus make decisions about where you stay during the holidays, what your schooling consists of, or what your position as the Boy-Who-Lived entails you; the Dursleys cannot legally keep you in their place of residence, claim rights of authority over you, or have access as your legal guardians to your money.
"I can give my approval to any and all job opportunities you find for yourself; I can grant approval for any applications towards an apprenticeship before you finish school here; I can use your political and economic holdings toward any purpose you wish," here she cast a sly grin toward the teenager, "Such as getting Fudge kicked out of office." Harry choked. "Not that I advocate using power for personal gain," Brethany winked. "But kicking Fudge out…That would be a service to the people."
"So…you're volunteering to be my guardian?" Harry was honestly curious, as well as interested in what she had to gain from the arrangement. "Why?"
Brethany sighed. "Frankly, I just didn't want you to have to go back to the Dursleys during the summer. Recently, though, I've decided that you need someone who's there for you, and you alone. The Weasleys are great; I know you view them as family. But, I know you realize that they cannot be there for you in the same way that they are there for their own family." She watched as his face tightened slightly, and knew she had hit a nerve. "I can be there for you, not only as a teacher, but also as a friend, sister, and, to whatever extent I can give and you can accept, a mother."
Harry breathed in shakily. The proposal offered a completely new turn to his life. What should he do?
"I'm sorry I just threw this at you out of the blue, but I don't think either of us could keep it a secret from Dumbledore." Brethany took a deep breath. "If we do this, it has to be this afternoon, before anyone can find out in time to stop us."
Harry stared at her for a long moment, his thoughts in complete confusion. He had to decide at once? Merlin, he was supposed to take five minutes to decide who should have control of his life for the next year? Merlin!
"I'm sorry, Harry."
Harry came to a decision. "Don't be," he told her firmly. His green eyes caught hers and held. "Let's do it." Brethany expelled a gasp of relief, then grinned. Harry grinned back at her, gratitude dancing in his eyes. "We can shock everyone with the news tonight."
"Absolutely," the young woman returned. "We'll just have to make sure it doesn't leak to the press too quickly." At his questioning look, she smiled sheepishly. "My family doesn't know anything about it. I was figuring on telling them to expect a new member of the family for Christmas." Brethany grinned at his confused expression. "Fancy going to America for the Yule?" Harry gaped at her in shock, and she laughed quietly.
"Welcome to the family, Harry," the young woman spoke gently, a small smile on her face.
Harry looked at her, stupefied, then smiled back. "Thanks, Brethany." The two stood grinning at each other stupidly for a moment, then the elder shook herself.
"All right, so we need to get you fit for a public appearance," the DADA teacher spoke briskly. "I didn't ask the Room for quite all these clothes, but we can work with it. You need to find a robe that you like from over there," she pointed to the formal robes, "And I will find trousers, tunic and waistcoat to match." Brethany grinned giddily. "I haven't played dress-up since I was thirteen." Harry rolled his eyes. "OK, let's get to it."
The area degenerated into utter chaos after that. Clothes were strewn everywhere as the two searched through piles, tossed selections back and forth, and held items up to Harry's body for size, color compatibility, and style. After nearly an hour, they had decided on an outfit. Brethany shooed the teenager behind a curtained area to change, then ran for the package in the corner she had kept from his notice.
Minutes later, Harry stepped from behind the curtain, a sheepish smile on his face. Brethany's eyes widened, then she grinned like the cat that ate the canary. "You look absolutely, drop-dead, fantastic," the young woman told him bluntly. The teenager flushed brightly, then rolled his eyes in embarrassment. "Turn," Brethany waved her hand encouragingly. He rolled his eyes again, but obeyed. The teenager truly looked wonderful. The entire outfit was formal and businesslike, yet stylish and comfortable: a forest green formal robe with brown and bronze embroidery, black trousers, a light tawny brown tunic, and a green silk waistcoat.
Brethany handed him the package with a grin. "I got these for you last week. I figured I could give them to you with the excuse that I missed my ward's sixteenth birthday if you agreed to the guardianship. If you hadn't, well, I was going to come up with something on the spot." She watched with a grin as the curious teenager opened the package.
"Holy Merlin, these are dragon hide!" Harry's voice rose in a screech. Brethany tossed her head back and laughed gaily at his response. The young man lifted the gifts from the package. "Gloves…boots…a belt…what is this?" he held up a pair of objects.
"Oh, those are gauntlets: arm guards," Brethany leaned forward to take them from him. "They wrap around your forearms like this, and close with these clasps," she placed them on his arms. "There're wand holsters built into them for your wands, and the innate magic of the hide protects them from summoning spells. Also, the guards absorb magic to a certain extent; you can hold your arms out so," she crossed her forearms several inches in front of her face, "And so," she lowered her crossed arms to protect her torso, "And you can block incoming spells. Very melodramatic and theatrical looking, but effective. I'll be teaching you how to use them in dueling. It can be complicated at first to use them while dueling, but it gets easier with practice."
Brethany picked up another item. "Now this is my favorite: a dragon scale helm. I've never been able to afford one of these for myself until last week." At his askance look, she laughed. "No worries, I'll get one for myself next time, as well." She lifted the shallow, distorted helmet with a grin. "I'll admit, it doesn't look like much, but it can with time."
Teacher-like, she launched into a lecture. "A dragon scale helm is made from a single dragon scale, usually from the creature's chest or shoulder region. The helm will not truly fit unless and until the wearer molds it to his own head. The process of molding can take up to a month of work, depending on the frequency of usage. The molding process begins when the wearer first puts the helm on his head, and continues with every subsequent wearing." Harry looked at her in confusion; Brethany chuckled at his expression. "Dragon scales are like leather; they stretch or tighten to fit the wearer. The biggest difference is that once the scales conform to the wearer, they will only fit that person. It's why dragon scales are so expensive; very few people can harvest the scales without having the scales bond to their magic. Individual dragon scales, like dragons, will only bond with one person's magic; they are not compatible with any person after the first." She grinned. "Any questions?"
"Just one," Harry spoke slowly. "How expensive was all this?" he gestured to the pile of dragon hide. Brethany grinned even wider.
"Comparatively cheap. I have connections who have connections with the Black Market. A dragon was accidentally killed two weeks ago on some muggle farmer's property, and the remains were being sold as quickly as humanly possible. My connections knew I'd been trying to get some dragon hide, scales, blood, and heartstrings for some time; they alerted me of the prospect, and I bought as much as possible." The teenager looked at her doubtfully. "Honestly!" She gave him an innocent look. "I know it's slightly illegal to buy dragon parts without a license, but I couldn't resist…"
"It's illegal?" the teenager demanded, a bemused look on his face. "How did you…Never mind, I don't want to know." Brethany grinned.
"You probably don't," she agreed. "Anyway, I just wanted to give you the boots, gloves, belt, and gauntlets to wear to the Ministry; the rest, you can leave here and we'll pick it up later." Harry grimaced. "Come on, kiddo; we have to leave, or the Department we need to visit won't be open to the public. Your winter cloak is over there…"
Within minutes, they were both prepared, at least physically. With one last shared grin, Brethany disillusioned the teenager, then led the way out of the castle. Once they were beyond the wards, teacher and student side-along-apparated out with a crack.
Harry struggled to keep his face expressionless as he followed the young woman through the Ministry. Certain areas of the huge building were familiar to him from the trial at the beginning of his fifth year and then the disaster in the DoM, and with each recognized landmark, his heart sank further. The Ministry evoked no positive feelings in him.
"Here we are," Brethany halted before a large door. "The Department of Child Services, which, coincidentally, is just next to the Department of Magical Bonds, Inheritance, and Birthrights, which we also need to visit." She released the disillusionment, then swept the teenager through the door. "Hello, dear," she spoke to the secretary. "Can you help me?" Brethany asked brightly, grinning like a shark. The young man behind the desk looked up, extremely startled.
"Er…" the poor man stammered in confusion. "What?…Can I help…er…yes?" Behind Brethany, Harry choked down a snicker. The secretary rallied. "What would you like assistance in?"
Brethany's grin didn't die. "Well, my sanity could use some work…" Harry laughed outright. "But I don't think you're qualified to handle that sort of problem," she reassured the man, who looked caught between relief and affront. "Perhaps I could speak to an official? I'm certain someone could provide assistance with my problem…" The secretary visibly gave up; he rose from his seat and moved to the door of the inner office.
"That was cruel," Harry murmured with a grin; Brethany just smiled smugly.
"If he can't deal with one tough customer, he shouldn't be working in the Ministry. Besides, the Wizarding World is filled with nut jobs and kooks; he really should get used to them."
"Quite so," a woman's amused voice came from the office door. "Although, the fact that one of said 'nut jobs' is in the Child's Services office with a teenager in hand iis slightly worrying."
"Especially considering the fact that the teenager is Harry Potter," Brethany added helpfully, grinning when said teenager frowned. "Not that Harry's unused to being surrounded by crack pots and crazies; he is the Boy-Who-Lived, after all." Both Ministry workers stared at Harry's forehead until he obliged and lifted aside his hair. The woman official appeared to rally herself.
"Well, then," she breathed in some awe. "You'd best come into my office. I am Ms. Patterson, the head of the Child's Services department; whatever you need done, I am certain to be able to help with. Warren," she affixed the secretary with a stern glare, "If Mr. Potter's presence here becomes known, I know exactly who to blame; our work here is confidential in all cases, especially involving one so, er, popular, as Mr. Potter."
"You hear that, Harry?" Brethany grinned. "You're popular. Isn't it grand?"
"Marvelous," Harry replied dryly. "I truly enjoy thousands of witches and wizards believing that I am the greatest thing since the invention of sliced bread. Smashing." He frowned in disgust. "Whoever came up with the title 'Boy-Who-Lived' should have his head examined. It's the most disgusting piece of bunkum I've ever heard. Honestly, it's almost as bad as 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named'. If you can't call him by his true name, why not come up with some nickname? I like 'Henrietta', personally."
His teacher rolled her eyes at the gaping Ministry workers, and hauled her student into the inner office. "Get in here before you bring the whole Ministry down on us for your heresy." The woman official followed mutely in their wake, shutting the door behind them. Brethany and Harry waited while she made her way behind her desk.
"Well, I must say, I never expected to see Harry Potter in my office," Ms. Patterson attempted to speak brightly, but instantly sobered at the identical looks of annoyance on her visitors' faces. "I assume your visit has something to do with Mr. Potter's guardian or status as a minor?"
Brethany nodded. "I am Brethany Lewis, the DADA instructor at Hogwarts, under which position I first came to know Mr. Potter. Since then, I have become his Occlumency teacher." The other woman's eyes widened in understanding. "I wish- we wish- for all rights of guardianship to be transferred to me under that bond." The department head leaned back in her chair, her eyes studying the two. Harry shifted slightly beneath her gaze, but otherwise remained silent.
"You have proof of this bond." It was not a question, Brethany knew. She simply nodded. "And what does Mr. Potter have to say about this change of guardians?"
"I am pleased with it," the teenager spoke up confidently. "Brethany- Ms. Lewis- has been a wonderful teacher." He paused, but took a deep breath and hurriedly continued, "And friend. She's…great." He flushed at his own lack of words. Brethany simply grinned fondly at him.
"We are both dissatisfied with his current guardians, magical or otherwise," his teacher said bluntly.
"Yes, a, ah, Petunia Dursley and husband, er, Vernon," Ms. Patterson read from a file, then frowned. "Albus Dumbledore is his magical guardian. May I ask why you are dissatisfied with him?" she looked pointedly at Harry, directing the question to him.
Harry's jaw clenched. "Headmaster Dumbledore is, well, he's a great man, but he's…he's too great." Brethany choked down a laugh. "I mean, he's always terribly busy with the school, and with, er, problems with Voldemort," the department head jerked in horror, "And he doesn't seem to care too much about, well, just me." He shifted uncomfortably. "And, he ignores me when I try to talk to him about…things."
"Such as?" Ms. Patterson eyed the teenager keenly.
"Er," Harry ruffled his hair absently, "Like, last year, when I tried to tell him that Umbridge was torturing us during detention…" he noted the older woman's horror and grinned sheepishly. "Um, well, I mean…"
"Torture?" the poor woman repeated, her face going red.
"Er, yeah, she used a blood quill," the teenager muttered in growing self-consciousness, holding out his hand to show the scars of his own dismal handwriting.
"I-must-not-tell-lies," she read off the wounded appendage, her jaw set in horror. "A blood quill! That damned woman used a blood quill on students?" Brethany struggled between vindictive pleasure at shared indignation and hysteria at the obvious incredulity in the other woman's face. The head of Child's Services visibly calmed herself. "Never did like that woman," she muttered to herself. "What else did your magical guardian ignore?"
"Well," Harry began, more than ready to get the whole experience over with, "I've told both Dumbledore and McGonagall that I don't want to go back to the Dursleys' for summer holidays." He shrugged slightly. "They never listened."
"In their defense, Harry," Brethany spoke up, "You never told them just why you did not wish to return there. When you volunteered no information about your home life besides the fact that you and your relatives do not get on well, they had little cause to grant you asylum at Hogwarts for the holidays." She frowned. "I am not, however, saying that they should have ignored your request. They know almost as well as I that you understate everything, and getting information about your private life is like pulling teeth. They should have recognized your cry for help for what it was."
"It wasn't a cry for help!" Harry protested in defense of his own independence. "I just didn't want to go back," he finished in a mutter. The two women exchanged wryly amused glances.
"So, exactly what does your home life consist of that is so undesirable?"
Harry looked to his teacher for help, but she gestured for him to begin; he was on his own with this one. "Well, first of all, my room is Dudley's second bedroom where all his junk is kept." He risked a look at Ms. Patterson; she did not seem impressed. "I got that after I received my Hogwarts letter; before that, I had the cupboard under the stairs." That garnered a reaction.
"The cupboard under the stairs?" she repeated, almost disbelieving. "And your cousin had not only his own bedroom, but also a, a storage room?"
Harry nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Until I got the second bedroom, anyhow. The broom cupboard was my bedroom for ten years." He watched her jot a note on his file. "Er, none of this will get out, will it?"
The woman was shocked at the question. "Certainly not! All files on our children are kept entirely confidential unless we are given an order by the Wizengamot. No one will be finding this information unless by your permission or illegal means." Harry nodded in relief. "Now, you have told me of your living area; what of your food? Was that also given only meagerly?"
"Yeah." He looked slightly embarrassed. "I only got scraps, and a bite here and there while cooking. It wasn't so bad when I could clear the table after, as I'd grab whatever my uncle and cousin left, which wasn't usually much."
"I've noticed that you are remarkably small for your age," the department head observed critically. "Do you feel this is because of the scarcity of good meals growing up?" He nodded in answer. "What of punishments?"
"My uncle walloped me a few times with his fists, and my aunt slapped me all the time with a wooden spoon or her hand," he shrugged, "but other than that, there wasn't much physical punishment. Mostly I just got thrown into my cupboard without food or water, usually only for a day or two. They'd let me out to cook and clean up, then toss me back in. I dunno if you'd call that punishment, though, since I spent nearly all my time cleaning and cooking anyhow." Harry dared a look at the woman. Ms. Patterson's lips were pressed in a thin line, and her eyes glittered a little madly.
"Er, are you all right?" the question seemed to rouse her from her silent rage.
"Quite well, Mr. Potter, thank you," the woman spoke drily, seeming to gather her wits. "Will you be pressing charges against the Dursleys?" The sentence was scarcely finished before Brethany was replying in the affirmative and Harry in the negative. Student and teacher glared at one another.
"Why shouldn't you press charges for neglect? It will ensure that your cousin is taken from their care and given accountability and some sense of honor," Brethany stated matter-of-factly. "Unless you want Dudley to turn criminal, that is? Which will happen if he's left where he is."
"He'll be perfectly happy staying with my aunt and uncle until they die," Harry shot back. "They'll give him everything he could possibly want, just like they always do."
"Even someone to bully?" his mentor shot back. "So…just let your aunt and uncle go scot-free, never having to think that what they did to you was wrong? What if someone left another child in their keeping? What about Dudley? Just let your cousin grow up into a hood who thinks he can beat or whine everyone into submission, and who will likely die of heart disease by the time he's thirty?" The teenager glared at the floor in response.
"If you like, I can ensure that the hearing would be closed," Ms. Patterson suggested delicately. Harry frowned. "You need not worry about the story getting out to the public, that way. All the cases involving child neglect or abuse require that the officials be sworn to confidentiality; all paperwork falls under something similar."
Brethany sighed. "It's up to Harry whether or not he presses charges against the Dursleys." The two women exchanged measured glances as the teenager looked on with narrowed eyes.
"What would I have to do?" The Boy-Who-Lived asked in tired exasperation. "Would I have to actually see them, or could I just submit some memories for viewing?" He stared at Brethany firmly. "I do not want to see my aunt again if at all possible. Ever."
"I believe we could accommodate you, Mr. Potter." The head of Child Services spoke briskly. "Now, if you could provide the proof that you share a Legilimens bond with this minor, Ms. Lewis, I can immediately grant you custody. That way, you can fill out the necessary paperwork for Mr. Potter. If you would follow me next-door to the Department of Magical Bonds, someone will officially verify and document the bond." Brethany made a sour expression as soon as the woman turned away. Paperwork, she mouthed to the teenager in disgust. Erg. Harry rolled his eyes.
It was late afternoon by the time the two apparated back to the border of Hogwarts. The air was cold and dry, and the winter sun was beginning to set in the west, its last feeble rays setting the slushy snow alight on the ground. Brethany kept her hand on Harry's arm for a moment as they stood in silence.
"Regret it yet?" she asked lightly, a thread of nervousness in her voice. The teenager looked over at her with a small smile.
"Not yet," he replied, wriggling free of her grasp. "Race you to the Great Hall for a mug of hot cider?" Brethany's eyes narrowed at the teenager's apparent carefree attitude.
"Why are you so happy?" she demanded suspiciously. He grinned suddenly.
"I don't have to go back to the Dursleys'!" Harry shouted as he took off for the castle at a run. "Race you!" With a similar grin, his new guardian gave chase.
Later, when Brethany wordlessly handed copies of the documents to Albus, she felt horribly guilty about the deception. Only the memory of Harry's obvious relief and happiness kept her from feeling more than a small amount of regret as she watched the old wizard read through the papers.
"No one else knew we were going to do it, Albus." She spoke quietly, her hands held stiffly behind her back. "Only Harry and I were involved; none of the staff or students were in any way complicit." They were alone in the Headmaster's office. "I finished researching everything about the Legilimens bond just yesterday; as you can see by the date on the paperwork, I carried out the plan this afternoon. Everyone was told that Harry and I were training in the Room of Requirement. Hagrid agreed to alert me if a situation arose where our presence was required; he didn't know what we were doing, though, just that I was taking Harry somewhere and that it had to do with Occlumency."
Brethany continued to stand stiffly as Albus hummed thoughtfully into his beard. "I feel as though I'm confessing to my mother that I stole and ate the entire raspberry tart out of the pantry. Will you please say something, sir, before I drive myself mad?" She couldn't help the small growl of nervous frustration from escaping her.
The headmaster finally looked up. "And what precisely would you like me to say, Brethany? That I am relieved that Harry now has true family he can go to? That I am disappointed that neither of you came to me with this plan? That I am afraid that Harry will not be sufficiently protected throughout the summers now? That I wish I could have been the one to come up with and support this plan?" Each question was put forth in a dry, rather sarcastic tone that Brethany had never heard from the old wizard before. She swallowed the lump in her throat.
"I rather think that all those things are true, sir." The young woman focused on the gnarly old hands gripping the copied documents. "The only thing I regret about today, sir, is that you weren't standing on the castle steps ready to congratulate Harry and me. I took that opportunity from you, sir; I didn't allow you time to understand and accept what we – I – was doing. I kept it from you because I didn't trust that you had the same priority that I do: keeping Harry safe and happy." Dumbledore's knuckles briefly turned white, then relaxed. "If I was mistaken, I am sorry for misjudging you and deceiving you. If I was not mistaken, sir, then I still am sorry for deceiving you, but not for doing what I did without your approval." They stared at one another for a long moment. Brethany felt her throat twist at the emotions in the old wizard's eyes: Grief, bitterness, guilt, relief, and what slowly became apparent as sheer exhaustion.
"Albus," she exclaimed suddenly, "Are you dying?" The old blue eyes widened slightly before closing. Brethany bit her lip as the mighty Dumbledore seemed to hunch into himself, shoulders trembling slightly with what could just as well have signified laughter as sobs.
"Are we not all dying?" the headmaster asked slowly, staring downward. "Ah, but that's why life should be so treasured, Brethany." The old form suddenly straightened, and the young woman before him abruptly remembered why Albus was such a strong force in the Wizarding world. Icy blue eyes examined her thoughtfully. "Thank you for giving young Harry the opportunity to experience a loving family of his own. I am quite sure that you and yours can keep him safe and happy as you said." Dumbledore turned towards one of his many gadgets. "Thank you for informing me of this development." Brethany stared at the old wizard's back in shock.
"Albus-" she began, but was cut off by an imperious jerk of a hand. Stumbling slightly as she turned around, Brethany exited the office and walked down the staircase. Trembling, she leaned against the stone wall and stared down at the gargoyle guarding the entrance. "Is he disappointed in me? Is he regretting hiring me?" she asked it absently. "And…should he be?" The stone statue provided no answer. The thought of Harry's joy now brought only a dim consolation.
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