To say that Pomona had their full attention would have been an understatement as Rolanda all but dragged her to a seat and Filius did not even admonish her for doing so, as he was to intent in asking questions, such as "what?", "how?" and "why haven't you told us yet?"
After getting Rolanda to give her some space, Pomona launched into her story.
"I was watering my plants, the poor dears had not a drop of moisture within their parched roots. It was during then that I noticed the water, running down from the stems and along the ground. Sort of like a miniature river of sorts. Surely that's why we can't get Minerva back from the bathtub. The portal's current has moved on, leaving the bathtub no longer the accessible entrance."
Filius looked close to kissing Pomona as he ran from the room, his robes billowing out about him in near humorous fashion. Following after him, the other three gaped as he began tapping the wall just outside Minerva's chambers. Rolling her eyes, Rolanda folded her arms.
"Pomona, I thought you said you knew 'how to get Minerva back'..." she muttered, obviously unhappy.
"But that was the way." The smaller woman insisted, nicely patting Sam's arm as he looked on hopefully.
"Not in my opinion..." Rolanda hissed, as Filius sighed and came over to them.
"I'm afraid the castle would disagree with your portal idea, Pomona." he murmured, not unkindly, despite the words.
No one looked as disappointed as Pomona; as she had been so certain on her correctness.
As Deputy Headmaster, Filius could 'link' with Hogwarts castle and in doing so had quickly found that there were no opening and closing portals drifting though as Pomona had suggested.
A cup of tea later, Pomona sniffed softly into a handkerchief Filius had given her and wiped her filling eyes.
"Oh I was so sure." she sighed.
"Maybe its time we faced facts." Rolanda intoned, staring at the wall. .
Sam wrinkled his brow and exchanged glances with Filius.
"Face facts?" Filius asked, curiosity matched with uncertainty.
"Yeah... she's lost and we'll never find her."
Silence enveloped the seated foursome. All looked torn and confused; lost themselves in the twisted dark ways of the world around them. Pomona took another sip from her cup and refilled the other three's but only Sam thanked her and lifted to drink.
Sighing, Filius rose to his feet and chuckled.
"This will not do." he murmured. "Come, Minerva would hate this gathering."
Rolanda huffed.
"Well, she's not here, now is she."
Pomona opened her mouth to respond, but Filius shook his head.
"But we will get her back, Rolanda Hooch. And the sooner the better."
Sam licked his lips, nodding along with Filius. He had already decided he greatly admired the man.
"Come with me." the man murmured, gesturing for the two women and Sam to follow him.
They left the room, Pomona stopping briefly to assure a worried Filch that they were doing everything in their power to find Minerva, and soon found themselves outside the Headmistress' office. A stone gargoyle sat guarding it and Sam gulped nervously, wondering what was about to happen.
"No need to worry, dear. He's made of stone." Pomona assured him.
"Time is the fire in which we burn..." Filius muttered, obviously uncomfortable with Minerva's password.
The stone beast leapt aside, yanking a shriek from poor Sam. Rolanda rolled her eyes, grabbing his arm and pulling him in through the door and consequentially up the moving stairway.
With everything happening so quickly, Sam could only blink and stare as they stood within the large dark office.
Filius muttered something and the office flared to life as light lit it. The large tidy desk looked less sinister well-lit and Sam breathed a sigh of relief.
"My dear Filius, how wonderful of you to visit me." Albus' portrait chuckled happily. Several other portraits of past Headmasters and mistresses agreed, while less friendly ones, such as Snape merely sniffed.
"Albus, we need your help. Minerva's gone missing I'm afraid." Pomona stated, approaching the painting.
Sam wasn't sure which was more odd, the fact that the painting was talking, the fact they were talking back to it; or the fact that the man reminded him instantly of yet another wizard... One from his own world, with a delightful collection of stories, fireworks and no doubt magic equal to the ones around Sam now.
"Do you know Gandalf?" he squeaked, halfly unsure even why he'd asked.
Albus' painting stared at him, before a kind smile lit the man's blue eyes.
"No, my dear boy, the name is unfamiliar." He replied.
"Who's Gandalf?" Rolanda asked, hand on her wand.
"He's a wizard from my world." Sam hastily explained. "A good one."
"And just why didn't you mention this before?!" Rolanda snapped, glaring down at Sam's now quivering form.
"It didn't come to me... begging your pardon." he whispered.
"Rolanda, give the boy some space." Pomona admonished, folding her arms. "Honestly, you are so terribly impatient and rude."
The woman just sniffed, throwing herself into the nearest chair.
Albus stroked his beard.
"Am I safe to assume that Minerva is not only just missing, but lost from this world?" Sam was surprised at how intelligent the painting was and therefore just nodded rather dumbly.
"Yes, Albus, she and Mr. Samwise Gamgee here apparently exchanged places from our world and his." Filius explained.
Albus nodded.
"Well then, you have nothing to worry about. Simply call her back and exchange them back again."
Rolanda glared at Albus as if wishing the paint would peel and melt.
"Oh brilliant idea..." she scoffed.
"How would we do that?" FIlius asked, ignoring Rolanda.
"Find the portal and use those Ravenclaw lungs of yours... how else?" Severus Snape sneered.
"And how do we find the portal?" Pomona added, not liking Snape's tone, but more intent on getting Minerva back than on chastising rude dead headmasters.
"I'm afraid that we cannot help you with, my dear." Albus murmured, sadly. "But it would appear that there is a wizard on Samwise's side of these worlds as well and if fate and chance work with us; perhaps he can help Minerva."
---
Minerva blinked wearily at the dark wall, across from the bed where she lay. She had not slept at all the night before, having tossed and turned, her thoughts and light slumber filled with potential threats and dangers. There was no manner of death that Albus had not met with within her near feverish panic and to her horror, Gandalf had only survived her imagination to succumb to the same fate as the first beloved wizard.
Curled into a ball, she hugged the pillow tightly against her chest. Frodo had not bothered her, and she had no way of knowing what time it was, since the drapes were tightly closed over the earthen window and there was no clock nearby. Strands of dark hair drifted over her red-rimmed eyes, ignored by the tired witch.
She wondered if Gandalf would think her foolish for acting this way... but soon pushed the thought away. Gandalf's thoughts were not hers to think of. Neither had Albus' been, although she had rarely allowed that to stand in her way of soft dreams and pleasant day ponderings.
Rising into a seated position, Minerva smoothed out her wrinkled robes. She wondered briefly, if perhaps a bit of wandless magic could clean it; but couldn't find the inner strength to finish either the thought or the action. Despite her fuzzy vision, she was able to feel her way to the door with minimal trouble and the light flooding the hallway, although blinding at first, assisted her journey to the kitchen, where Frodo sat, mulling over a cup of tea.
She noted the other cup awaiting her and smiled at his thoughtfulness.
"Good morning..." she murmured, receiving a far more cheerful smile in return than the one she had given.
"Good morning." Neither made mention to the fact that it had neither been a good night nor a good morning; the woven lie lifted them both enough to continue on with a breakfast.
Poking her egg with the toast Frodo had generously made for her, Minerva yawned into her hand. Across from her, the hobbit dropped his eyes from where he'd been staring at her, no doubt concerned about her reddened eyes, pale face and tangled hair.
--
It had taken far less time than Gandalf had anticipated to delve into the writings Isildur had left behind in his passing. Dread seized his heart as he hurried back though the halls of the castle, his long strides carrying him quickly back toward his horse. There was no time to waste. He now knew how to identify the lost ring of power and with haste it needed to be proven that the ring Bilbo had so begrudgingly left behind was not it... although more than a sliver of doubt pervaded his mind.
After all, the manner in which Bilbo had acted suggested the ring twisted and wielded power against the hobbit. A truly terrible power that longed for higher, stronger, darker actions.
The wide streets of the city were even further cleared, the citizens nodding respectfully and more or less happily to the hastening wizard. Mithrandir was not a man one trifled with greetings and troubles; for he was a wizard after all. And even the youngest child knew that wizards were best left to their own devices.
However, as Gandalf passed in a whirl of grey, he paused, momentarily to see the sign of one trinket shop. His bush-like eyebrows lifted and he entered within, noticing the many oddities the shopkeeper had in bundles, bags and shelves for customers to see. In particular, the rounded glass objects caught the wizards attention especially as he thought back to Minerva and her sight or lack thereof.
He'd seen and before heard that with the proper thickness of the glass, one could correct oddities in the eye. Narya, his comforter, shone upon his finger as he gently lifted a nearby pair of spectacles. It would not do to purchase anything for Minerva without her presence and he berated himself for not bringing her with him. The memory of her worried face plagued him suddenly and his heart ached knowing that he had become far more fond of the woman than perhaps he should have.
Leaving the shop, he soon mounted his horse and galloped forth from within the city. Despite his earlier thoughts he smiled softly as he remembered her gentle laughter at Biblo's party...
---
Minerva and Frodo had exchanged countable words after breakfast and then the later had excused himself to go out. No doubt to look for his lost friend, the Sam that he had not seen the night before, she mused, slowly going along the wall in an effort to not stumble.
Once seated in a cozy chair by the roaring fire, she selected one of the many thick books Biblo had within his study walls and holding the book out far enough, was able to read a good chapter before falling asleep.
By the time Frodo returned, disheartened and hungry, dinner time had come and passed and upon seeing Minerva, so soundly asleep in the chair, he could not wake her, for fear of disturbing more so than assisting. Thus he ate a simple meal alone and then promptly found his own book to read and occasionally glancing up to check on the older woman, he read happily within a chair he'd pulled up across from her.
It was odd... he knew so little about her. How she had come to know Gandalf was not known to him; much less why Gandalf had brought her with him. But any friend of Gandalf's was a friend of his. And Minerva was a kind enough woman to make the effort of friendship far more easy than with most.
She awoke just as Frodo was becoming to sleepy to keep his eyes open any longer.
"What?" she whispered groggily, glancing around at the smeared room and hobbit.
"Could I get you something to eat?" Frodo asked, rubbing his eyes.
She shook her head, not hungry.
Frodo nodded, yawning again as he blinked away sleep.
"You should go to bed, Frodo." Minerva murmured.
He nodded.
Wondering briefly if she planned to wait for Gandalf's return, Frodo saw no point in arguing and headed off for his room. Alone now and no longer exhausted, Minerva slowly made her way to the door and leaving it open, seated herself on the steps.
The soft breeze lifted and rippled through her hair and she sighed, enjoying the relaxation of the country air.