Chapter Five
"Okay Professor, everything from this point on will be on record for the Ministry of Magic. Please try to answer all the questions truthfully and to the best of your abilities. Are you ready?"
Dumbledore tore his eyes from the scribbling levitating quill and nodded confidently, though his insides were thumping loudly. "Of course, Mister Caverly, whenever you're ready."
The man nodded once and settled in his chair. "Albus Percival Wilfric Brian Dumbledore. Thirty two years of age. Professor and Deputy Head Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Tell me about the events leading up to the morning you stormed Nurmengard Prison."
Dumbledore nodded smoothly.
"I left my teaching post shortly before the beginning of the second term at Hogwarts. I had been in correspondence with several of the Head Aurors," he inclined his head towards Moody who stood in the shadows, "and by that time we thought we had narrowed down one of Grindelwald's strong hold, his main prison."
"What made you decide that I was time for you to become more involved in the war? I recall the Minister had come to you on several occasions for you to leave and come out into the field but you refused," Caverly said accusingly.
Dumbledore sat in his office, motionlessly. Unopened letters and papers littered his floors. Open books and torn maps were thrown open everywhere. The window was open and a pile of strewn leaves had settled on his bookshelves.
Fawkes let out a long, mournful note, but nothing seemed to rouse the auburn haired man from his mourning. A shorter wizard with a short, full beard stood in front of him.
"Albus, you need to do something. You're destroying yourself. You need to eat, sleep, something. There was nothing you could have done for her, Albus.
With a rapidly beating heart, Albus jolted to his feet. Heavy bag under his eyes and crinkled, dirty clothes made him look even older.
"I have to find her."
"Albus," Dippet said gently. "You don't even know where she is … if she's even alive."
"She's alive. I know she is. If she wasn't … I … I would feel it. Magic has a way of transmitting life. Our magic is tied tightly enough through her apprenticeship … I would know. I'd just know. I have go, Armando."
Dumbledore rapidly blinked to clear his thoughts.
"It had come to my attention that Grindewald's motives were escalading and that there was no hope of anyone else stopping him. It was time for greater actions and attention. The Ministry needed someone who knew what Grindelwald was like, how he thoughts and planned. That person was me."
Caverly ran a hand through his hair and glanced back down at the folded piece of parchment in his hand. When he looked back up, his eyes were cruel and cold.
"So your decision had nothing to do with the disappearance and abduction of Minerva McGonagall?"
Moody bristled slightly behind Caverly. "Partly," Albus said democratically. "Her abduction from Hogsmeade was a wakeup call to just how far and how bold the Blackcoats and even Grindelwald himself had become in just the few months he had drawn to the Continent and Hogwarts."
"Albus?" Galatea Merrythought stood in Dumbledore's doorway as he stood copying note on the blackboard. "Albus, there's something you need to hear."
"I don't have time for another lecture on the rulebook, Galatea. I'm afraid I've run out of patience at the moment."
The normally brazen witch stood quietly at the door. "Albus, I'm so sorry. I just was trying to talk to her and she ran. By the time I caught up with her in Hogsmeade, they had already taken her."
The chalk in Dumbledore's hand slipped and crackled on the stone floors.
"What?" he said dangerously.
"Some of the seventh years saw it. She put up quite a fight. She killed one, injured two others, but there were just too many. We think the Blackcoats were waiting for students to come past the borders. There's nothing anyone could do."
Albus whirled around, magic crackling off him in reds and golds. "No Muggleborns were supposed to be allowed past the boundaries, let alone into Hogsmeade. Why were you talking to her without me? You had no right to upset her!" Angry tears dribbled down his cheek and Galatea's eyes got wide.
"I'm sorry, Albus, truly. She's gone."
"What's the nature of your relationship with Miss McGonagall, Professor Dumbledore?"
"She's my apprentice."
"It's very rare to have such a young apprentice, isn't it? Why her? What's so special about Miss McGonagall? You could have any pick of your stock fresh from a graduate program of good stock, good foundations of master level knowledge …"
Dumbledore smirked and straightened in his chair. "You mean why of all the students I had begging for apprenticeships, did I choose a fifteen year old, Muggleborn girl from the coastline of Scotland?"
"Steady there, Albus," Moody snapped warningly. Caverly cleared his throat and began to correct him, but Dumbledore raised a hand slightly, still smiling.
"I chose her because I had never met someone, myself included, with such a gift in Transfiguration. It had nothing to do with her linage, or her schooling, in had all to do with her magic and her heart."
Slightly chastised, Caverly glanced down at the still scribbling quill.
"When did you first make contact on the sight for the prison?"
"We had an inside source from one of the outlying Auroring allies in Germany that there was a prison with a lot of magical barriers, an unusual amount of activity. We went out and found a prison with the movement of over two dozen Blackcoats within it."
"This must be it," Moody whispered, from beside Dumbledore in the vegetation. There was the bluish, clear crackling of the barriers around an ugly, large, and fore boarding gray structure. "I have six watchtowers, all have look outs. Three magical and anti-apparations barriers. Looks like we have five or six levels of cells."
There was a quiet pause. Both men were dressed in dark boots and camouflage uniforms. They had forsaken their black robes to stay hidden among the tree line, even with invisibility cloaks.
"Albus?"
"We need a plan, we're only going to have one shot at this. We have to get more people here," Albus breathed back to his. Leaves and twigs were caught in his beard and the large tree and bush limbs were poking him in the back.
He didn't seem to notice as he stared, transfixed at the structure in front of him.
"Dumbledore?"
"She should be in there."
"Steady there, mate, we gotta get in first. Then we can rescue all of them. No one gets left behind."
"According to the transcripts provided to the Ministry, you and thirty two other Aurors stormed the prison at 4:38 AM on the morning of January 21st. You disarmed the barriers one by one, drawing the Blackcoats to the edge of the perimeter. You then split into three groups and each took a wing. According to the plans, you chose the time with the lease amount of Blackcoats to break it, correct?"
Dumbledore nodded and folded his hands in his lap, hiding their slight quake. "To minimize the captive causalities, yes."
The blue quill seemed to make note of this. "We managed to overcome the Blackcoats rather easily. The whole battle took less than a few hours in all."
Albus' blue spell hit one of the Blackcoats directly in the chest and he stumbled onto the stone walls, quiet.
"That seems to be all of them here, Dumbledore," Moody called over his him, blood smeared to the right side of his face. "Hills said they caught the rest of them trying to burn the documents. They managed to save most of them."
"Have we located any of the captives?" Albus called, but Moody just shook his head.
"Sir, you need to see this," one of the junior Aurors called from the other side of the hall.
"Grindelwald wasn't there, but we had reason to suspect Macnair, his right hand man, was in charge of the prison. He managed to escape as well," Dumbledore said.
"What did you find there, other than the documents that our analysts are going over now?"
Albus swallowed and drew quiet. "I've never seen anything like it. I've been to war, but nothing like this. Bodies, half decomposed and decapitated laid everywhere. Blood and dirt smeared the wall. The whole building stank of death and decay. When we finally found some of the captured, they were tortured, beaten, half dead, and starved…"
"What is it, Shacklebolt?" Moody snapped as they followed the black skinned Auror.
"Sir, we found…" the Auror trailed off and the sight took away Albus' breath. The large cell was filled with a dozen people. Men and women lined the walls, dirty and beaten. Black and blue bruises and open cut and sores were visible from across the room. There were two unmoving bodies in the corner, haphazardly thrown into the corner.
When they entered some of the prisoners looked up with wonderstruck looks and gaping mouths. Albus searched their faces in vain for the one he was seeking.
"There are rooms full of them, sir," Shacklebolt said quietly, leaning down to help one of the older men up to his feet carefully. "We're trying to get the Healers to as many as we can, but … a lot of them are beyond help."
"Good man, Shacklebolt. Try to help them as much as you can," Albus said quietly, putting a hand on his shoulder.
The air was thick and disgusting and the temperature freezing. There was hysterical crying and half a dozen language filtering through his head, as his heart craved for a single laugh, sprinkled with a Gaelic accent.
"Albus?" Moody shouted. "ALBUS! They found her. She's in the top cell!" Dumbledore apparated without a second's hesitation.
She looked so small, alone is a gray, stone box. He fell to his knees at her side as the others crowded around her. a too large shirt covered her body, her skin was frozen to the touch.
"Minerva?" he called softly to her.
He pulled her tiny body onto his lap. His heart rapidly accelerated as he tried to vain to find a pulse. Her hair was tangled in a messy plaited braid. Her cheeks were gaunt and pale. He could feel every one of her ribs through the shirt. Bruises and long, thin cuts marred her skin. He could see heavy burn marks over her once perfect skin.
He felt his stomach twist in his body and he fought the urge to vomit. Blood, some still wet, others black and dried, was soaked through her hair and flannel of the shirt.
"Minerva? Minerva? Can you hear me? Oh Merlin, Minerva I need to you wake up, open your eyes for me!"
He felt a hand on his shoulder. Alastor's. He jerked away. Tears struggled to remain at bay.
"Minerva? I need to focus on my voice. Minerva, listen to me. I need you to open your eyes, please."
There was silence as no one moved in the cell. Just as he was about to speak again, there was a flittering of movement across her face. Her translucent eye lids fluttered and large green eyes were exposed.
They seemed unsure and cloudy, but as she fixed on Dumbledore, they seemed to clear.
Dumbledore felt his heart jump. "That's great, my dear. Keep your eyes open for me, dear heart. It's all going to be okay. You're safe you, safe."
As Albus finished describing the scene, trying to push the battered and beaten memory of Minerva from his head, and the quill finished dictating his words, Caverly cleared his throat. "Thank you for your support in this matter, Professor. The Ministry thanks you for your bravery and skills."
Dumbledore ignored him. "How much longer is the Ministry going to keep everyone here? I'm sure the families are anxious to see their loved ones."
Caverly seemed unconcerned. "As soon as we get cleared and take stock of the full situation. It may be a little while."
"Will you be staying, Caverly?" Moody said swiftly, cutting off Albus' reply. The men stood as proceeded through the entrance of the tent where the sun was setting over the camp.
"For a little while I think, Moody, I still have to get the accounts of the prisoners and the other Aurors. We need to have a clear picture before releasing anything to press or letting out letters into the world. This is a big victory for the Light and we want to have all our ducks in a row."
"Of course."
The man bid both men a good evening and casually walked over to the groups of prisoners and Aurors, note and quill in his hand.
"Never liked him," Moody said gruffly as he and Albus parted ways.
He found her sitting on her bed, nimble fingers coursing over the books they had found for her in the prison. Melanie was sitting quietly in the corner, scratching away on parchment. She only briefly glanced up at him before turning back down to the paper, focused.
Minerva looked up to him and smiled. He didn't return it, but anxiously sat down on the bed, pulling her close to him, relishing in the warmth of her body and the rhythm of her beating heart.
The girl didn't seem shocked or surprised, nor did she speak. She simply let him hold her, lying her head on his shoulder. The smell of her hair filling his senses.
For the first time since Melanie had met them, the student comforted her professor.