61. Face of the Enemy
For several days Minerva felt bad about not giving Potter permission to visit Hogsmeade. Technically, it really wasn't her place. She wasn't his guardian. But she was his Head of House and that was close enough. Under different circumstances she would have found a way to justify it. With Sirius Black out there, however, it was almost as though fate had intervened and stopped Potter's aunt and uncle from signing that form. Minerva simply couldn't take that risk.
She didn't have to wait long for confirmation that she had made the right decision. The first Hogsmeade weekend took place on Halloween. Certainly not a good omen, although Minerva tried hard to ignore her silly misgivings about this particular day of the year. She tried, failed and gave up on it entirely that night.
It was just like last year and the year before that. Everything was fine. Until it wasn't.
Until she looked at the destroyed portrait of the Fat Lady and Peeves informed them merrily that the attacker had been none other than the man the whole country was looking for. Sirius Black. Right here in Hogwarts.
They ushered the students back to the Great Hall and practically locked them inside, entrusting them to the Head Boy and Girl and the prefects. All the teachers assembled in the Entrance Hall to organise a proper search of the castle.
"Should we ask the Dementors to help?" Pomona asked uncertainly. "This is supposed to be their job after all."
"They're not doing it very well then, are they?" said Filius. "How did Black manage to get past them and into the school?"
"If I may offer a theory…" Severus hissed, staring daggers at Remus, who was tight-lipped and quiet.
"Thank you, Severus," Albus cut him off sharply. "There'll be time for theorising later. I'd prefer to start searching now – so we won't need the services of the Dementors."
The oak front doors opened and Hagrid re-entered the hall. He had gone to get his boarhound, which was a good idea in theory. Except, Minerva had never seen that animal do anything but drool all over the floor. "If yeh don' wan' the Dementors ter come an' help, somebody better tell 'em that. Looks like they know what's goin' on an' they're about ter come whether yeh want 'em ter or not."
"Thank you, Hagrid," Albus said with a curt nod. To the rest of them he added, "Please start searching. I'll join you momentarily after I've spoken to the Dementors."
While her colleagues started to disperse, Minerva stepped into Albus' path and discreetly hooked the little finger of her right hand through his. "Want me to come with you?" She didn't like the idea of him facing an entire host of overly excited Dementors on his own.
"Protect the school, Minerva, not me," he replied quietly and moved past her.
She sighed as she watched him leave and then began to search the floors of the castle that had been assigned to her. She found nothing. No sign of Black or how he had got inside Hogwarts.
Minerva made her way down the grand staircase and ran into Remus. "Any luck?" she asked, even though his face wasn't the face of a man who had anything to show for himself. In fact, if she hadn't known any better, she might have agreed with Severus and said it was the face of a man with a guilty conscience. But she definitely did not agree with Severus and she knew that the next full moon wasn't far off. Remus could probably already feel its effects. That couldn't make things any easier for him.
He shook his head in answer to her question. "Do you know if Dumbledore is back from speaking with the Dementors yet?" he then asked in return.
"I don't, but I was just about to go look for him. You can come with me if you need to talk to him," Minerva offered, continuing down the stairs.
Remus fell into step beside her, but he seemed hesitant. "I don't think I should. No need to waste his time or to make him regret hiring Black's childhood friend any more than he probably already does."
"So not at all then," Minerva said firmly, pausing for a second to meet his gaze. "And neither do I. What you really shouldn't do, Remus, is listen to Severus."
After a moment Remus' troubled expression eased into a smile. He nodded at her in thanks and they headed down the stairs together.
They found Albus on the second floor where he had discovered the Fat Lady hiding in a map of Argyllshire. She refused to show her face and it took Albus some time to coax her into talking – and confirming that Peeves had told them the truth about Black attacking her.
"What exactly did he say to you?" Albus asked her. Somehow he was able to make his question sound both urgent and gentle.
"Only that he needed to get into Gryffindor Tower," the Fat Lady replied shrilly, "and then I told him that I couldn't let him in without the password."
"Did he say anything else?"
"No, he just… lost it. He had that knife… and those wild, crazy eyes… he was like… like a rabid dog!"
Next to Minerva, Remus cringed. Albus' gaze briefly flickered over him. "Any thoughts, Remus?"
Again, he just shook his head and averted his eyes.
Albus turned back towards the Fat Lady. "Thank you for your service to Gryffindor house. I promise you that we'll have your painting restored in no time at all."
"Oh, well, take your time, Headmaster." Clearly, the Fat Lady wasn't too eager to return to her duties as gatekeeper.
"What now, Albus?" Minerva asked. They couldn't leave the entrance to Gryffindor Tower unguarded.
"I already found a temporary replacement. He's a bit overzealous, but he'll have to do for now. Can I ask you to see to it that he's moved to his new home, Minerva? His name is Sir Cardogan. You'll find his portrait on the seventh-floor landing of the North Tower. I want to check that all is well in the Great Hall. And assuming that the others haven't found any trace of Black either, I'll let the Dementors know that they can stop champing at the bit."
This time Minerva knew better than to try and stop him. Instead, she went to find the painting Albus had mentioned. It was a clumsy knight with a fat pony and he did not exactly inspire confidence.
"Are you Sir Cardogan?" Minerva asked dubiously.
"Yes, m'la…" He had attempted to bow to her and fallen flat on his face. "My apologies, m'lady. I meant to say, yes, m'lady, I'm Sir Cardogan and I'm at your service. M'lord told me to expect you, and may I say his description of you didn't do you justice. You have the most bewitching green eyes I have ever seen!" He spit out a mouthful of grass.
Minerva harrumphed. "Thank you, but that's completely irrelevant. You understand what we need you to do?"
"Of course, m'lady. I'm to protect Gryffindor Tower from scoundrels and rogues and challenge them to a duel!" He drew his sword and promptly dropped it.
Minerva pretended that she hadn't seen that. "Actually, it will suffice if you ask them for the password."
"Never fear, m'lady! I won't let anyone inside the Tower if I don't like the looks of them!"
"It doesn't matter if you like the way a student looks as long as they have the correct password," Minerva informed him, afraid that she would get calls for help all the time if Sir Cardogan tried to decide on his own who was worthy of entering Gryffindor Tower and who wasn't.
"If that is your wish, m'lady." He attempted another bow and this time he would have kept his balance if his pony hadn't taken a step forward and run him into the ground.
Well, Minerva thought while Sir Cardogan swore colourfully, perhaps he would make the students laugh. That was worth something, too, she supposed.
Filch helped her to install Sir Cardogan's portrait in front of the Gryffindor portrait hole and the search for Black was officially called off. No one knew how he had done it, but there was no denying that he had got in and out of the castle unseen. Even though the imminent danger had passed, they left the students in the Great Hall. Most of them were mercifully asleep by now.
Minerva waited for Albus to return to his study after dealing with the Azkaban guards. When he did, she took hold of his hands and clasped them between both of her own. They were the hands of someone who had been left outside in a winter storm for too long. Which was concerning because Albus' blood never ran cold. He was like a phoenix in that way.
She lifted his hands to her lips to warm them. "Are the Dementors staying put?"
"Yes. They lost interest fairly quickly once they learned that Black is no longer in the castle," Albus replied, brushing a cool thumb across her lower lip.
"But he was here! In Hogwarts, which should have been impossible!" she exclaimed.
Albus raised one hand to cup her cheek. Minerva covered it with her own. Bodily warmth was the only thing she had to give to him right now. Emotionally she felt lost in a storm herself.
"Impossible only means that we didn't know any better until the impossible actually happened," Albus said.
She did not find that very reassuring. "But what exactly did we learn from this? Other than that we should seriously consider cancelling Halloween next year? Although the feast actually saved Potter tonight."
"How so?" Albus asked.
"Even if Black had got past the Fat Lady and into Gryffindor Tower, he wouldn't have found Potter there because the Halloween feast always runs longer than dinner normally does. It must be difficult for Black to tell the time while he's on the run."
Albus inclined his head thoughtfully. "But it's not particularly difficult to see or hear hundreds of students who are making a ruckus in the Great Hall."
"You think he knew Potter wasn't in his dormitory and he wanted to ambush him upon his return?" Minerva shuddered at the idea. "Well, that does it. We have to tell Potter the truth. Not telling him about Black's intentions was fine as long as he was in no particular danger here at Hogwarts. But clearly, that's no longer the case. He won't always be surrounded by hundreds of other students. He'll be going down to Hagrid's or to the Quidditch pitch… He needs to know not to do those things and to keep his guard up."
"I agree," Albus nodded. "Even Cornelius can't possibly deny that the situation has changed. Leaving Harry in the dark would be the opposite of looking out for his best interests. Will you tell him tomorrow?"
"If you want me to," she agreed, a little surprised.
"Why wouldn't I want you to?"
"It's hard to tell sometimes, Albus. You didn't want my help with the Dementors," she pointed out.
"Those are two very different things. Taking care of Harry and taking care of me. One is essential to all of us, the other not useful to anyone but me. Thank you, though," he added with a kiss to her knuckles before he let go of her hands. His were still not exactly warm, but at least they felt as though he had a pulse again.
Minerva decided not to argue about who was of greater importance to whom and changed the subject. Talking about normal Hogwarts business seemed easier right now, even if normal was a bit of a stretch in this case. "There's someone else we need to take care of. The full moon is coming up. We have to figure out who's going to fill in for Remus during the school week. He's not looking too good already."
A smile tugged at the corners of Albus' lips while he circled around his desk. "I have a feeling that we'll be able to find a volunteer."
Minerva arched a brow. "I thought you didn't want Severus to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts."
"That didn't stop you from asking him to help cover for Gilderoy last year," Albus reminded her.
"I only asked him to lead a study group, not to take over his classes," Minerva corrected him. "And I'm not questioning his qualifications, only his ability to rein in his darker impulses. He barely manages to be civil whenever Remus is around."
"Since the fact that Remus won't be around is the whole reason for this conversation, I think we can let Severus fill in for him. Perhaps it'll help to lift his mood," Albus suggested.
Minerva had her doubts about that. But she kept ignoring them over the course of the following week.
She discovered that Potter already knew about Black and that he wasn't overly concerned. Somehow he convinced her to let him keep playing Quidditch. Because yes, she wanted to win that bloody Cup after seven long years of losing. Minerva was very pleased that Gryffindor had won the House Championship these past two years. But Quidditch had a special place in her heart and Potter was smart enough to know that.
After her talk with Potter she went looking for Rolanda to ask for her help.
The flying instructor wasn't exactly thrilled. "You want me to oversee the Gryffindor training sessions?" she asked sceptically. "How often?"
"Every time they practise. Three to five nights a week, I suppose," Minerva replied, biting her lip.
"In this weather?" Rolanda turned towards the windows. The rain was still beating against them incessantly.
"You know I wouldn't usually ask this of you. But these are special circumstances. This is about Potter's safety," Minerva implored her.
"That's why I'm still talking to you. But that's not why I'm going to say yes," Rolanda said, her hawk-like eyes watching her shrewdly. "What do I get out of it?"
Minerva's own eyes narrowed. "What do you want?"
"New school brooms." Rolanda didn't even need a moment to think about that. "I can run faster than you can fly on those old broomsticks I have to use to teach the students. Just because nobody takes flying lessons seriously. They wouldn't expect you or any of the other teachers to rely on books that practically fall apart when you try to open them!"
"Well, no, but where am I supposed to...?"
"Don't pretend you're not in charge of the school budget, Minerva!" Rolanda challenged her.
"Which is how I know that there's no money for broomsticks," Minerva argued.
"Too bad. Because if you expect me to chaperone your Quidditch team and not be dry again until Christmas, I want at least ten new brooms for my troubles."
They stared at each other, yellow eyes boring into green ones. "Fine," Minerva huffed. "But my Seeker better not have a scratch on him when this is all over!"
Rolanda grinned triumphantly.
Her expression was positively tame, however, compared to the malicious look of gleeful anticipation on Severus' face when he walked into the room. Albus must have told him that he would be filling in for Remus. Minerva was sorely tempted to ask him about his plans for those lessons, but she knew she wouldn't get a straight answer out of him. Her time would be better spent figuring out how to get Rolanda those broomsticks. In the meantime she would simply have to hope for the best.
That hope burst like a bubble when she overheard a couple of Gryffindors who were talking about their Defence Against the Dark Arts class on Friday afternoon. They were too angry to notice Minerva coming up behind them. Apparently, Snape had insulted several students, handed out detention and taken points from Gryffindor. While certainly upsetting, that was all par for the course. But there was more.
Once Minerva was done listening, she stormed into the staffroom, banged her books on the table and asked everyone except Severus to leave. Then she rounded on the Potions master. "You taught the Gryffindors how to recognise a werewolf? Is that your sick idea of a joke or are you really so petty that you can't get over a childhood disagreement?"
"A disagreement?" Severus repeated, his eyes flashing. "Is that what you call an attempt on my life?"
"That's what you're still going on about?" Minerva scoffed, resting one hand on the table in front of him and leaning closer. "Remus never attacked you! And even if he had, it wouldn't have been by choice. It was all Black's idea. None of this is his fault."
"You and Dumbledore are exactly the same," Severus hissed, standing up now to reclaim some of his personal space. "Behind all of this sanctimonious rubbish all you're actually doing is playing favourites. Anyone who's broken and pathetic enough to accept your charity!"
"Oh, such as yourself you mean?" Minerva shot back.
Severus went absolutely rigid. Most likely, he had his hands curled into fists around his wand in his pocket. But he didn't move. Neither did Minerva.
"What exactly is going on here?" Albus was standing on the threshold to the staffroom and quickly closed the door behind him. "Why did you ask everyone to leave, Minerva?"
"So I could yell at Severus in private," she replied without taking her eyes off the Potions master. She was giving him the chance to speak up for himself, but he only glared at her defiantly, perhaps a little resigned. He knew as well as she did that Albus wasn't likely to take his side. So Minerva told him. "He used Remus' Defence Against the Dark Arts classes to teach the students how to recognise a werewolf."
She could hear a weary sigh escape Albus' lips. "What made you do that, Severus?"
"It was the next chapter in their school books," Severus lied blatantly. "A book that you picked out, if I'm not mistaken?" he added, giving Minerva the side-eye.
"It doesn't matter whether it's in the book or not, they were nowhere near werewolves yet! I know that because Remus told me what he was doing in his classes."
"He was coddling the students like first-years," Severus sneered. "If I were teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts at this school, no third-year would waste their time on Kappas and Red Caps."
"But you're not teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts," Minerva said pointedly. "And if you keep treating other teachers or students like this, you won't be teaching anything at all for much longer."
Albus cleared his throat. "I believe that's still my decision to make, Minerva. And I also believe that you, Severus, didn't fully answer my question as to why you did what you did."
"It's perfectly obvious why," Minerva interjected. "He's hoping that the students will figure out the truth about Remus and tell their parents so they can pressure us into letting Remus go."
"I was talking to Severus. Please, Minerva." He wasn't asking her to be quiet. He was telling her. She pressed her mouth into a thin line and took a step back.
Severus' lips twitched. There was still no sign of remorse. "You asked me to teach a Defence Against the Dark Arts class. I was told that the students were currently dealing with dark magical creatures, so I gave them a perfectly insightful lesson on the subject. I did exactly what you wanted me to do, Dumbledore."
"What you did was a manipulative and underhanded attempt to expose a colleague," Albus replied coolly. "And I agree with Minerva..."
"Shocking," Severus muttered under his breath.
"... that even though this may not be actionable behaviour," Albus continued as though he hadn't heard him, "I find it very disappointing. I must urge you to accept that Remus has a place here at Hogwarts and to do it fast."
Nobody said anything for a moment. "Will that be all then, Headmaster?" Severus asked eventually. He clearly hadn't taken any of that to heart.
"For now," Albus nodded and Severus swiftly left the room.
Albus watched him go. "Sometimes I wonder why hate always comes easier to us than forgiveness," he said, seemingly as much to himself as to anyone else.
"Am I allowed to talk again so I can answer that?" Minerva asked anyway.
He sighed. "You know you weren't helping the situation."
That wasn't exactly an apology so she didn't give him one either. "Perhaps some things or some people are beyond help."
"Certainly. Especially if no one bothers to try."
The door opened and Filius poked his head inside. "Can we come back in now?"
"Please do," Albus replied and stepped aside.
Filius looked curious as to what had happened here, but Minerva didn't feel like explaining. She gathered her things and left as well.
Later that night, much later in fact, Minerva sat up in bed, blinking into the darkness until she could see at least a little. The heavy rain of the past several days had grown into a full-on thunderstorm and she found it impossible to sleep through that. She just sat there and listened to it raging outside. It showed no signs of letting up any time soon.
Gryffindor would play Hufflepuff in the morning. They had been supposed to play Slytherin, but Minerva preferred not to think about how the Slytherin team had weaselled their way out of it – even before the wind and the rain had turned into a storm. It would only make her angry again. Her concern was weighing on her enough already. If she couldn't even sleep through the noise of what was going on outside, she didn't want to imagine playing Quidditch in those conditions.
Next to her, Albus shifted onto his side so he was facing her. She turned her head and met his open eyes. It was too dark for her to see the clear blue depth in them, but she knew that particular colour by heart. She could have gone blind and still be able to picture that look, that face.
"Why aren't you saying anything?" she asked after a while. She was sure he had been about to when he had turned around to her.
"I remembered that you asked me not to," he replied.
"What? When?" He had been the one to shush her today, not the other way around.
"A year ago you asked me to think more favourably of the game of Quidditch. I'm trying to respect your wishes," he explained and once he did, Minerva remembered that little argument. "This is me being supportive or, in the absence of that possibility, I thought being quiet might be the next best thing."
Minerva gazed at him in the dark. He was reading her like an open book, knowing exactly what kept her awake. Guessing his thoughts however wasn't quite that easy. "Okay, now I just have to know what you were going to say."
"I was about to suggest that, if you're worried about the students playing in a lightning storm, you could cancel the game."
"Cancel Quidditch because of a bit of bad weather? That's the silliest thing I've ever heard!" Minerva protested instinctively.
Albus laughed softly into his pillow. "Hence the being quiet on my part."
Minerva leaned her head back and groaned.
There was no significant change for the better in the next couple of hours. Rather the opposite. The weather was only getting worse. Still, nobody talked about cancelling the Quidditch match. It turned into one of the craziest games Minerva had ever watched here at Hogwarts. Lee Jordan was sitting right next to her and she could barely understand what he was saying into the microphone. The wind stole his words and ripped them away as soon as they left his lips.
But that was actually a good thing. It allowed Minerva to focus completely on the game. Just like everyone else. Only a handful of students had chosen to stay inside the castle. The rest was out here, screaming at the top of their lungs, cheering for one of the two teams, never mind the weather. The horrible conditions even seemed to heighten the fun. Last year the Hufflepuff Quidditch team had been a bit of a pushover. Today, in this game, in this weather, the two teams were neck and neck. Potter was an excellent Seeker, but seeing anything in this rain was incredibly difficult.
It was Diggory, the Hufflepuff Seeker, who dived for the Snitch first, Potter following his example mere seconds later, and the tension in the stadium reached a boiling point.
Suddenly it all went away – the heat that radiated from the students sitting close together in the stands, the noise they made cheering for their teams, the excitement of watching the game. It was all extinguished from one moment to the next.
All that remained was a bitter cold. Everything was muted. There was no more colour, no more joy. Minerva felt as though all hope was lost. Like her brother and father had just died all over again. Like Albus was gone for good...
Slowly, terribly slowly, Minerva caught on to what was happening and spotted the Dementors, nearly a hundred of them, all streaming onto the Quidditch pitch, as silent as the dead. Her eyes widened in horror and then she saw Potter out of the corner of her left eye. He was falling. Falling from fifty feet up! She wanted to call his name and reach for her wand. If only her movements hadn't still been so sluggish.
But there was Albus, running onto the pitch. He slowed Harry's fall, and then his magnificent phoenix Patronus burst forth from the tip of his wand. With a high-pitched, angry scream it flew in circles around the Dementors and chased them off. Albus followed closely behind, yelling at the Azkaban guards, who reluctantly began to retreat.
Once they did, everybody's minds cleared. The game had ended. Diggory had caught the Snitch. Nobody had noticed and nobody cared. There was a mad stampede for the exits when the students tried to get back to the safety of the castle as soon as possible. The chaos that ensued made it impossible for Minerva to get down from the stands in time to help Albus. There was no need. The Dementors were quickly leaving the castle grounds, chased relentlessly by Albus' Patronus. They didn't have any other choice. Albus made sure of that.
He was incandescent with rage. Minerva could feel his fury in her bones, even all the way up in the stands. He usually kept it contained better than anyone she had ever known, but not this time. It wasn't all that surprising. Considering the horrible things the Dementors would have made Albus feel on top of his utter revulsion towards them in general and his burning need to protect the school against their foulness. Teachers and students alike followed the Dementor's example and gave the angry headmaster a wide berth. He didn't seem to mind. After the Dementors had fled, he lifted Potter onto a stretcher and walked up to the school with him. Minerva stayed behind to stop the students from falling over one another in their hurry to leave the stadium.
Mercifully, there were no serious injuries, which included Potter, who regained consciousness in the hospital wing not long after. Nevertheless, the atmosphere in the castle was subdued for the rest of the day. It wasn't just the Gryffindors, who finally realised that they had lost the game. Everyone felt off after that Dementor attack. Minerva couldn't even work up enough of an appetite to go to dinner. Instead, she decided that she had given Albus enough time to calm down. Or just the opposite since he had planned to argue with Cornelius once again about whether or not the Dementors were out of control and should be removed from the vicinity of the school. She already knew how that conversation would have ended and wanted to see how he was doing after all this.
He was sitting on the settee in the headmaster's residence rather than behind his desk in his office – proof that he was still in no mood to work. Minerva didn't even need to ask if Cornelius had seen reason. It was clear from Albus' expression that he hadn't. But other than that, there remained only a faint echo of his anger from earlier. It had made room for a heavy lassitude.
"You're missing dinner," he said simply when she sat down next to him.
"So are you," she replied in the same manner. And since they were pointing out the obvious, she added, "I dare say today's events didn't inspire you to become a fan of Quidditch."
"Not particularly," Albus agreed drily. "But I ought to thank you regardless. It's because of your tireless attempts to make a believer out of me yet that I was there at all."
"Thank Merlin for that! It took me forever to understand what was happening and to reach for my wand." She shook her head about her embarrassingly slow reaction.
"Facing one Dementor is difficult enough, an entire host of them is another matter entirely. We were lucky that they weren't hell-bent on attacking us. They were simply unable to resist their instinct to seek out all those emotions coming from the Quidditch pitch."
"Except, once there, they didn't care that none of us were Sirius Black."
"Yes."
They both fell silent. There was no use arguing about the Dementors. Eventually, Albus said, "I'm sorry Gryffindor lost."
"That hardly matters under the circumstances." It was the right thing to say and it was true, but it still hurt. The Quidditch Cup wasn't completely lost to them yet, but their chances of winning the championship had lessened significantly.
Albus had a dubious look on his face. He was seeing right through her of course and after a moment he took out his wand and gave it a little flick. "I asked the kitchens to make this for dinner, but since you refuse to go…"
A single plate with a giant piece of chocolate cake had appeared on the coffee table. Minerva expected her stomach to revolt, but it was just the opposite. Her body seemed to know instinctively that the chocolate would help. She, too, waved her wand and conjured a second fork.
She picked it up and held it out to Albus. "You need this as much as I do."
A fleeting smile flickered across his face before he took the fork from her.
They ate in companionable silence. The piece of cake was more than big enough for two. Minerva suspected that the house-elves had set it aside especially for the headmaster. She would go and thank them tomorrow. Eating some chocolate was a deceptively simple remedy, but it helped. She felt less hollow in more ways than one.
"I keep forgetting how long the effects of a Dementor can linger," she murmured once they had finished the cake.
Albus nodded and that's when she saw it in his eyes, still there, not just lingering but festering. He had borne the brunt of the attack, even with his powerful Patronus.
Minerva pushed away the empty plate and shifted to face him fully. "Tell me something about Ariana."
Albus' eyes snapped back up to meet hers so sharply, she knew he hadn't expected her to say that.
It didn't make her hesitate in the slightest. She was done giving him space. "I know you're thinking about her right now, more than usual that is, and in a bad way. So I want you to give me a good memory instead."
He was quiet for so long that Minerva thought he would refuse.
Eventually, he clasped his hands in his lap and said slowly, "Whenever I got home from Hogwarts, I usually spent the entire holidays reading and studying in my room."
His tone was measured, but he held his hands just a little too tightly. Minerva reached out to wrap them in her own and she rested her chin on his shoulder, glancing up at him with a soft smile. "Of course you did."
"One time I was home, any book I was reading or any homework I was doing disappeared as soon as I let it out of my sight. I blamed Aberforth. I accused him of being jealous and called him a thief. He called me a foolish bighead who was too full of himself to see that my brother would never want to be anything like me – and he was quite right. Finally, and it's terribly embarrassing how long it took me to even think of that, I went looking in Ariana's room."
He paused for a moment and Minerva moved a little closer still, leaning her weight against him so there was no mistaking the fact that she was here with him. That she would always be here with him.
"It was all there. In her room. My books, my notes, my homework. Except she had drawn dandelions over most of it."
"Dandelions?" Minerva asked, pleasantly surprised. "Why?"
"When we had been very young – before I went off to Hogwarts and before the attack…" Albus' voice wavered, but he went on, "our mother kicked us out of the house one fine summer day, telling us to play outside. But even then I was bookish and moody and didn't want to play outside. Ariana tried to cheer me up by picking dandelions and blowing the seeds in my face. I told her to stop, got seeds in my mouth and nose and had to cough so badly that I lost my footing and landed in the lake behind our house. Ariana laughed at me and after some time so did I."
Minerva tried not to smile too broadly. She didn't want to be distracting. But she could see it so clearly in her imagination and she could see it in Albus' eyes, the light, the laughter, the love. It was all she had ever wanted for him.
"Drawing dandelions on my school things was Ariana's way of begging for my attention, of asking me to spend some time with her."
"And did you?" Minerva asked hopefully.
"I stayed with her for the rest of that day," Albus nodded. "And then I went back to school and forgot all about it."
The light in his eyes dimmed as quickly as it had appeared.
"Clearly that's not true or you wouldn't have just told me about this," Minerva contradicted.
"You asked me for a good memory. That's the only one I had."
Minerva lifted her chin off his shoulder so she could look at him more closely. "I don't believe that. They are all in there," she nodded towards his heart, "and you could let yourself think of them more often if you stopped being your own worst enemy."
Albus gave her a rueful smile. "A very wise and impossible observation."
"What was it you said? Impossible only means that we didn't know any better? This time I do know better. And as far as I'm concerned, we can keep sitting here until you do, too."
He studied her for a good long while. "I think… I think she really would have liked you."
Finally, Albus' voice broke. Minerva's arms closed firmly around him when he rested his head against her chest and buried his face in the bend between her neck and her shoulder.
And so she sat with him while he exorcised his old demons that were so excruciatingly fresh on his mind, courtesy of the Dementors. It was a battle Albus had fought many times before, sometimes winning and sometimes losing, but never giving up the fight altogether.
Either way, for tonight – or for however long it took – Minerva would fight with him.
A/N: Extra long chapter today. Hope you enjoyed it. I know in the book Hermione says that Dumbledore shot silvery stuff at the Dementors, which doesn't sound like a corporeal Patronus. But I don't see why he wouldn't use his most powerful Patronus when faced with so many Dementors, so I figured that Hermione simply didn't know yet what she was seeing exactly. Anyway, it made for better dramatic effect. :)