52. The Art of Sacrifice

Leaving the castle for London – because Cornelius had insisted that as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot Albus was indispensable – had been a calculated risk. Then again, everything Albus had done this year had been a bit of a gamble. With the school year almost over he'd had a feeling that it needed to pay off soon or not at all. Of course he had not been gambling with his own life. It was only now that he was racing back towards Hogwarts that the reality of this hit him with full force.

Meeting Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley in the Entrance Hall only confirmed what Albus already knew. So he merely spared a quick glance to make sure they were (for the most part) unhurt and didn't slow down.

He burst through the door of the third-floor corridor and waved his wand, filling the air with that tragic Minerva opera. He had sprinted past Fluffy before Hagrid's crude but wonderfully effective guard dog had properly realised what marvellous musical composition had just hit him. Albus slipped through the trapdoor with the tip of his wand burning bright as the sun so Peppers wouldn't bother him. In the next chamber he held out his other hand. Flitwick's bruised, battered and disgruntled key zoomed right into it and gave up on feebly beating its wings.

As he dashed across the chessboard, Albus sent a mute apology to Minerva. While she had cast her spells to fortify it, he had known that he wouldn't have the time to battle with her genius. Unbeknownst to her, he had added the tiniest of backdoors for himself. The white Queen bowed to him and personally opened the door on the other side for him. Once he was through, he ignored the dead troll and downed Severus' potion he had kept in his pocket.

And then, finally, he was there. The mirror stood untouched, having done what it was supposed to. Harry was grappling with Quirrell, who was howling in agony, and in the back of his head was a second face, screaming, too, but in rage and frustration. For a brief moment Albus' gaze fixed on those cold, red eyes, so far removed from the human eyes he had once known.

"You can't have him, Tom. Not while I'm still breathing," he said sombrely.

Then he pointed his wand at Quirrell and blasted him away from Harry.

Albus still had enough presence of mind to notice that Quirrell's skin was badly blistered after touching Harry. He also sensed more than he saw how Voldemort's incorporeal essence fled the room in helpless fury, leaving Quirrell behind to moan and then stop moving altogether. Other than that, Albus was focused entirely on Harry, who had fallen to the ground.

He was lying utterly still. Suddenly and without warning – though there was nothing that could have prepared him for this one way or another – Albus flashed back to another room a lifetime ago. A room where three young and misguided men had stood around a similarly lifeless body. Only it had been a girl, older, but still every bit as innocent und unjustly punished with a cruel fate.

A mangled cry escaped Albus' lips as he knelt next to Harry and tried to banish those thoughts of sacrifice and failure from his mind. There would be ample time to torture himself later. For now Harry needed him to keep it together. It was way too early for the young boy to have to pay for the mistakes of others.

Albus placed his wand over Harry's chest and fervently muttered some healing and strengthening spells. Then he lowered his head and listened. Harry was breathing, but he was still a long way from regaining consciousness. He had been protected from Voldemort touching him, just as Albus had hoped. But the effort to enforce that protection and to use it on Quirrell had nearly killed him all the same.

Albus should have never allowed for this to happen. But then, how would he have known what the boy could do? And what he could do was nothing short of formidable. Even now he had the Philosopher's Stone safely in his pocket. His actions had surpassed all of Albus' expectations – and he had been very generous to begin with.

Nevertheless, Harry now needed help. Albus took the stone from him before he conjured a stretcher and lifted Harry on top of it carefully. With the stretcher floating next to him, Albus made his way back up to the castle and to the hospital wing.

Miss Granger and Mr Weasley were waiting for him. Naturally, they were beside themselves when they saw Harry. Albus wholeheartedly approved of the love and friendship the three of them had quickly developed. But right this minute it was extremely difficult for him to wake Madam Pomfrey and to tell her what had happened while also trying to calm down Harry's friends, even though he himself was still very much sick with worry.

Suddenly Minerva came running, followed quickly by Severus. Albus didn't know what had alerted them in the middle of the night, but he certainly wouldn't question their support and his good fortune to receive it. Minerva's eyes were wide as she took in the scene in front of her. Albus could tell that she was afraid for Harry and he knew that she had a bunch of questions about what was going on. But she didn't ask a single one. She went straight for her students, ushering them back to their dormitories.

"But Harry..." Miss Granger tried to protest.

"Madam Pomfrey will take excellent care of him and you can visit him when he's feeling better," Minerva replied firmly. No one other than Albus would have been able to tell what a valiant effort it took to keep her voice from shaking.

"And what about Ron...?" Miss Granger kept insisting.

"What about Weasley?" Minerva turned towards him. "Are you hurt?"

"Er –," said the boy.

"One of those chess pieces hit him pretty badly," Miss Granger explained helpfully.

At this, Minerva paled visibly. She looked to Poppy for help.

The matron got Harry settled on one of the beds and after she had determined that his condition wouldn't change in the next couple of minutes, she hurried over to young Mr Weasley.

In the meantime Albus beckoned Severus over to him. "Would you please go to the third-floor corridor – don't worry, the dog and all of its three heads are sleeping peacefully and you can tell the chess set that I sent you – and proceed to the final chamber where you will find Quirrell. Will you see if there is anything that can be done for him, though I very much doubt it."

"You killed him?" Severus asked, astonished but without judgment.

"No, Voldemort did, or perhaps Quirrell himself did by trusting Voldemort enough to share his body with him. As you know from personal experience, Voldemort cares very little for the needs of his followers."

Severus looked both surprised and angered. His expression only darkened further after that painful reminder. "You could have told me that when you said you suspected Quirrell of working for the Dark Lord, what you meant was that the Dark Lord was possessing him."

"Would that have changed anything?" Albus asked wearily.

The Potions master decided not to answer. "What shall I do with the body, Dumbledore? And what will you tell people about how he died?" he asked instead.

"For now it should suffice to say that he did a great disservice to this school. Bring the body to the dungeons and try to find out if Quirrell had any family left, who we would need to notify first."

Severus acknowledged these orders with a curt nod and left the hospital wing.

Mr Weasley and Miss Granger were ready to leave as well. Or rather, Mr Weasley had been patched up by Madam Pomfrey and Minerva made them leave, allowing no further delays or arguments.

"There's something you should know, Professor, about what I had to do to Neville..." was the last thing Albus heard Miss Granger say before Minerva shooed them outside.

Once alone, he sat by Harry's bedside while Poppy took care of the boy to the best of her abilities. "I have to admit I've never seen anything quite like this," she confessed in obvious frustration.

"That's perfectly understandable as there is no other boy quite like him," Albus told her kindly while he kept his eyes on Harry.

"I wonder if that's a good or a bad thing if it makes him end up here."

"I find that there is often only a fine line between a gift and a curse. More often in fact than people realise."

Poppy didn't seem to have an answer or she didn't think one was necessary. She went back into her office, looking for some potion or spell she hadn't tried yet. Her tinkering was the only sound in the hospital wing until Minerva returned from Gryffindor Tower, walking briskly towards Albus. Once again she looked as though she had a million things to say. Once again she did not.

"Weasley and Miss Granger are back in bed, though I'm guessing they started waking up all of Gryffindor House as soon as I left. And I had to take the Full Body-Bind Curse off of Mr Longbottom if you can believe it. Apparently, he tried to stop the other three from doing whatever the bloody hell they thought they were doing."

Albus tore his eyes away from Harry to meet hers. They told him enough. She was tired, terribly concerned and unsettled by tonight's events that she only partially understood. It made Albus wish he didn't have to ask one more thing of her.

"Thank you," was the first thing he said because it was the most important one.

Minerva sidestepped an actual response. "Shall I start writing to Mr and Mrs Granger and Molly and Arthur? Though I really don't know what to say. Their son got a concussion because of one of my own spells. I couldn't blame them if they asked for my resignation."

"Nobody is resigning. Other than our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. But since the year is almost done, that was bound to happen, wasn't it?" Albus shook his head. "And there will be time for writing those letters later. There's something else I need you to do. Please go get Nicolas. Don't send him a message. Go to him and bring him here."

There was a pause while Minerva processed this request. "Right now, Albus?" she asked eventually.

"Yes. This cannot wait any longer. It ought to have been done months ago."

Minerva stared at him, then nodded, then hesitated. "Will you be all right?"

He almost laughed at that. "Minerva, out of everyone in this castle I'm of the least importance. You really shouldn't worry about me."

"I'll go get Nicolas then," she replied, even though she clearly didn't agree with anything he had just said. She still did as he asked.

Albus appreciated her great resilience and her quiet strength beyond measure.

He really needed to tell her that more often.

For now, he continued to keep vigil beside Harry's bed.

When Minerva returned to Hogwarts with Nicolas Flamel, Albus still hadn't moved from his spot by Potter's side as far as she could tell. Potter also appeared to be in the same condition as before. Whether that was a good or a bad thing, she couldn't possibly tell.

All she knew for certain was that haunted look in Albus' soulful blue eyes.

It was the only thing she needed to know. The only motivation she required to do whatever he asked of her. Which included dragging a world-famous alchemist a couple hundred years her senior out of bed in the middle of the night, though it would be early morning soon.

In all honesty, the trip to Devon and the fresh air that came with it had done her a lot of good. It had calmed her racing heart and quieted some of her more disturbing thoughts. Nicolas for his part was taking everything in stride. After the initial confusion he had quickly grasped the seriousness of the situation (based on the bits and pieces Minerva knew so far). He had agreed to Apparate back to Scotland with her right away.

Now that they approached him, Albus finally rose from his chair to talk to his old friend in an appropriate distance to Potter's sickbed. "Nicolas, thank you for coming on such short notice."

"Short notice?" Flamel chuckled. "You're still a master of the understatement, my dear Albus. That was more of an ambush, I'd say."

"Didn't I hear you complain about a certain boredom when we last spoke? If I recall correctly, you said that days were all beginning to feel the same to you," Albus countered. "This should have made for a noticeable change."

"Oh, it most certainly did. And I'm guessing there will be more changes coming," Flamel said shrewdly.

"I'm afraid so," Albus nodded.

Minerva wasn't sure if she was supposed to be privy to this conversation, but she wanted to get some answers and so she wouldn't leave unless Albus told her to.

He didn't. "The stone must be destroyed, Nicolas. Tonight."

"What?" Perhaps it wasn't her place, but Minerva couldn't restrain herself.

Albus' brow furrowed when he looked at her. "I didn't expect you to be so surprised, Minerva. You never approved of the stone being in Hogwarts."

"I know, but that doesn't necessarily mean that it has to be destroyed."

"Yes, it does." Albus looked at Nicholas again. "It is as we feared. Voldemort came for the Philosopher's Stone tonight. We protected it, but it took..." he glanced at Potter, "almost too much. At this point the risks far outweigh the benefits of keeping the stone around."

Minerva thought that was a bit harsh since the benefits were the ongoing lives of Flamel and his wife. But the alchemist seemed rather unconcerned about his own fate.

"Then that bastard wins?" was all he asked.

"On the contrary," Albus said, his voice solemn but strong again. "If you and Perenelle are willing to make this sacrifice, Voldemort will never be able to use the stone to create the Elixir of Life and thus he will be forced to look for other means to regain his strength – means he may never find."

Minerva tried not to fidget uncomfortably when Albus kept saying You-Know-Who's name (yes, she should have been used to it by now; no, she still wasn't). Flamel collected his thoughts for a moment. "Well, if you put it like that, I'd be the most selfish, ignorant dunderhead if I didn't agree with you."

"I'd love to say otherwise, but in the interest of time, yes, you probably would be," Albus concurred drily.

Flamel clapped his hands. "What are we waiting for then? The sooner I learn to treat time as a precious commodity again, the better."

"I'll just let Madam Pomfrey know that I'm stepping out for a moment," Albus nodded and disappeared into Poppy's office.

Now alone with Flamel, Minerva searched for something to say. "I'm sorry Albus is so insistent. I'm sure you would have liked to talk to Perenelle about this first."

"Oh, we've talked about this at great length. It was always a possibility, and we're both quite all right with it," Nicholas assured her. "It can be quite comforting to know that there's an end to things again. How else would one remember to enjoy them?"

That sounded so much like something Albus would say, it made Minerva smile a bit. "I can see why you and Albus have been friends for so long."

"Yes, he's a terrific young fellow. But I've got to say, he got a lot easier to be around once you entered his life." He winked at her.

Thankfully, Minerva didn't have to respond to that because Albus returned with Poppy in tow and then he and Flamel left the hospital wing. Minerva sat in the chair by Potter's bed Albus had just vacated. She couldn't simply go back to bed now.

"How's he doing, Poppy?" she asked the one question she had been dreading for hours.

"Unfortunately, I can't really tell. But we're hoping that he just needs some time to rest and recover," Poppy told her. "Actually, we could all use some sleep," she added pointedly.

"You didn't mind when Albus was sitting here," Minerva argued.

"Oh, I minded, but he's the headmaster, isn't he?"

"And who am I?"

"A very tired-looking woman who isn't in her twenties anymore and would do well to remember that."

Minerva snorted. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." Poppy patted her hand and went back into her office.

Minerva decided she would wait just a little bit longer. For how long she truly sat there, she wasn't sure, but eventually Albus came back as she had known he would. When he saw her, he smiled softly and he rested his hands on her shoulders once he came to stand behind her.

"Is it done?" Minerva asked. "The stone is gone?"

"It is," he confirmed. When she didn't say anything else, he did. "You've been very quiet tonight."

"When you feel like a fool, it's better to keep your mouth shut."

Albus sat on the edge of the bed so he could look at her. "What are you talking about?"

"They told me, Albus – Potter, Weasley and Granger. They told me someone would try to steal the stone tonight and they even tried to stand guard outside the corridor. They made it perfectly clear that they wouldn't be deterred. But I didn't do a bloody thing. And not only were they right, turns out, you knew someone was going after the stone as well. And so did Severus, though he seemed to think it would be Quirrell while you said it was You-Know-Who..."

"Those are one and the same, actually," Albus interrupted her lightly. "Quirrell had allowed Voldemort to share his body, not realising that Voldemort does not share nor does he care for anyone but himself."

Minerva fell back in her chair, trying to stomach all of this. "So you had us build that elaborate trap underground, hoping the entire time to catch Quirrell or You-Know-Who or both of them while trying to get to the stone."

"I had no proof of any wrongdoing against Quirrell, though he tried admirably to change that over the course of the year. He also seemed to think that no one knew the truth about him and Voldemort, so I thought it best to play that to my advantage – among other things by not forcing anyone else to keep up that charade."

"And making him Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was part of that how exactly?"

"Let's call it a silly superstition at this point."

Fine. She could probably handle all of that. But there was still the matter of why they were having this conversation in the hospital wing. "What about Potter? How does he figure into it?" This time Albus didn't answer right away, so Minerva continued, "You wanted him to figure all of this out, didn't you? But Albus, how could you? He's just a child!"

That haunted look was back in his eyes and Minerva really didn't want to add to it. But she felt like she had no choice. At the very least she had to ask the question.

After the longest time Albus said, "Yes, Harry is only a boy. But he's an extraordinary one and he did some extraordinary things today and it's more than likely that he will do more of them in the future. Whether he should have to do those things or want to do them, that is a valid question. But sometimes, unfortunately, it's not up to us to decide that."

It was as much of a nonanswer as Minerva had ever heard.

"But it is very much up to you, of course, whether you shall blame me for it," Albus admitted, his voice raw.

At first, Minerva wanted to be annoyed that he was making it impossible for her to be angry by giving her permission to do just that. Then she looked at him, truly looked at him, and was shocked how much she had failed to see before. Albus hadn't done any of this on a whim. He was so deeply conflicted about it, it was etched into the very lines on his face. The way he hunched his shoulders spoke not only of the weight and worry he had been forced to bear all year, it also betrayed how guilt-ridden he felt because Harry had ended up in this hospital bed.

Minerva did no longer hesitate. She leaned forward, took Albus' face in her hands and placed soft kisses on his creased forehead, the tip of his crooked nose, the tender skin under both of his eyes and finally on his lips.

"Not the answer I was expecting," Albus teased, his eyes gleaming.

"I love you," Minerva said simply. "And I accept that you carry things with you that you insist aren't meant to be shared. I don't know if that's true. But I do know that you care so much, so very much, about everyone other than yourself. And if you make a decision like this, I may not understand or even agree, but I will never question that you did what you believed in your heart to be right."

Albus just sat there, as though her words had somehow stunned him into silence. "All things considered," he said slowly after a while, "I know that I have received many blessings in my life, but you are undoubtedly the most remarkable."

"Then don't you forget that the next time you keep things all to yourself," she told him seriously before she could succumb to his charm.

"There are not a lot of things I can promise, but that is an easy one. Forgetting you, my love, is perfectly impossible." Albus reached for her hand and lifted it gently to his lips.

Minerva allowed herself a smile as warm as the feeling of his touch, but then she quickly snatched her hand back when Hagrid crashed into the room. Morning was dawning and news of what had happened was spreading fast. Hagrid was so terribly upset, he could barely see where he was going, which was more than a little dangerous in his case.

Poppy emerged from her office, looking furious. "This is still a hospital! You all need to pull yourself together or get out! How do you expect the boy to make a quick recovery with you making a fuss?"

"I know it's a bloody hospital an' Harry's only here 'cause o' me!" Hagrid wailed. "I told him. I told him how ter get past Fluffy an' only 'cause I wanted that ruddy dragon!"

Minerva inhaled sharply and rounded on Albus. "Dragon? What dragon? Albus? Don't tell me there really was a dragon in the castle!"

"All right, then I won't tell you. Remember what you just said about not judging me for that?" he replied quietly.

"I take that back!"

Albus sighed and turned from her to the gamekeeper. "This is not on you, Hagrid. If there's anyone here who's at fault, it is I. So please calm yourself."

"But what if Harry…"

"There's nothing you can do for him, not in here. Why don't you go get him something that will make him feel better when he wakes up?" Albus suggested. "But nothing than can bite… or breathe fire… or has a heartbeat of any kind."

Hagrid blew his nose. "I've been thinkin' ter collect some pictures fer him. Yeh know, of his family an' stuff."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea and a very thoughtful gift," Albus smiled. "Take all the time you need. Take the day off."

"I will, thanks, Professor, but… he'll be all righ' then, won't he?" Hagrid asked anxiously, looking to Albus, not Poppy for that answer.

"I think so, and more importantly, I think one should always hope for the best."

Hagrid nodded and although he was dragging his feet, he let Poppy accompany him back outside.

"If the castle is awake, I better go and help supervise the students at breakfast," Minerva said, fighting off her fatigue as best she could. "Unless you want to give me the day off, too."

Albus flashed her a disarming smile. "I would love to, but unfortunately this school couldn't go on without you, and neither could I."

"If you're only saying that so I won't be upset about that dragon, it's not nearly enough."

"I'll think of something better then," Albus vowed.

Minerva harrumphed and left the hospital wing.

The next three days were exhausting. Potter remained unconscious and Albus barely left his side. Gryffindor was steamrolled by Ravenclaw in the last Quidditch match of the season and the students kept coming up with one crazy rumour after another. Even members of staff wouldn't stop pestering Minerva with questions about how Quirrell had died. She didn't even want to imagine what the school governors would have to say. The shock and morbid fascination were understandable and Minerva tried to run interference for Albus as she had always done, but she wasn't used to circumstances such as this.

It was a tremendous relief when Potter finally woke up. Seemingly not much worse for wear, he was allowed to attend the end-of-term feast. The Great Hall was all decked out in green and silver. Minerva tried and failed not to look at the giant Slytherin banner behind the High Table. In her mind she was already practising how she would congratulate Severus without choking.

And then Albus showed up and awarded 170 last-minute points to Gryffindor.

Minerva was in a daze. The noise in the hall was deafening. Suddenly there was red and gold everywhere. Severus was shaking her hand with the most insincere of all smiles. And she couldn't have cared less. Because for the first time in three days or perhaps weeks or even months, she was completely and ridiculously happy.

"So how did I do?" Albus whispered after he had sat down again and the food had appeared.

Minerva didn't even attempt to contain her smile. "A whole lot better than your start-of-term speech. But I do have one more question."

"Yes?"

"'Best-played game of chess'?" she quoted him. "Really?"

Albus smiled sweetly. "Well, you can't win them all."

Maybe not, Minerva thought, but on a night like tonight she could definitely try.

A/N: This concludes book 1! I hope you enjoyed it. My biggest fear is that I'm too much in love with writing about Albus and Minerva to notice if things get boring, since I'm keeping this (mostly) canon. So please let me know what you think. Anyway, thank you all for reading and supporting me. I'm off reading book 2 now! :)