(Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore - PoV)
...
Pacing around the room, I idly fiddle with and adjust the various knick-knacks and devices I have scattered about as I continue to consider...everything.
The current situation. Plans for the future. My failures.
...
As ever of late, it is so very hard to make plans for the future when I cannot even trust myself...
But-
The distinctive bell tolling once more pulls me from my thoughts.
What? I do have another meeting scheduled, but not until...
Checking my clock, I blink, finding it disassembled and mostly missing. I appear to have cannibalized its parts for other projects.
Blast.
Looking out the window instead, I confirm that far more time has passed than I realized.
Glancing about the room, I shake my head.
Almost no one else has any idea what most of these do anyway, it should be fine.
Straightening up my robes, beard, and hair, I hurry over to my desk and take my seat. I only just manage to get properly adjusted when the *knock knock* comes at the door.
Conjuring a glass, I whisper a quiet "Aquamenti" and take a quick sip before responding.
"Enter!"
The door opens slowly and the Trolley Lady steps in, a polite smile on her face. Pausing, she takes a moment to observe the room.
"Please, have a seat," I suggest with a gesture.
Accepting with a nod, she sits in the same seat Severus did.
"Lemon drop?" I ask, offering her the bowl.
She laughs.
It is...rather off-putting. Something not quite right about it.
A glance at my shelf confirms.
Hardly unexpected, of course. Not when I remember her from my *own* school days. But I had to check.
"You know what? Why not?" she says, taking a candy with a smile.
"My own stocks are rather lacking right now, you know?"
"Yes," I reply, taking a candy myself before putting the bowl away, "I have heard. That is, rather unfortunately, the reason I felt the need for this meeting, Miss...ah. I'm sorry, I tried my best, but have been unable to find your name?"
"Oh, don't worry about that young man. I don't think anyone knows my name anymore."
Y-Young man?
"...I see."
"Nowadays most just call me the Trolley Lady!"
She pauses for a moment.
"Hmm. Or Mother, I suppose, but that would hardly be appropriate now, would it? Hahaha!"
The unexpected revelation earns a blink from me.
"Mother? I was not aware you had children?"
It has never been mentioned *anywhere*.
"Oh, I don't have children, really. Not anymore, at least. Plenty of *descendants, however. Too many to keep track of, honestly!" she says with good cheer.
It doesn't last, however. The jovial smile slowly fades, until she finally sighs.
"But no. No, I'm afraid that the last of my daughters passed...Mmm...A few years back, it was."
I grimace at the news.
To outlive your children...
"I am very sorry to hear that," I tell her honestly.
She waves me off, however.
"Thank you, thank you. But it is fine. They lived long lives by most standards, I understand. Why, she was over thrice your age before it finally caught up with her."
...
Not a claim many would make lightly, yet the...woman, before me doesn't appear to even notice.
"And she became rather famous too! The story of her death is so very popular. Muggles seem especially fond of it for some reason, but I dare say even you have heard the story."
"Really now?" I ask, dark suspicion growing.
"Of course!" she responds with a smile. "Hänsel und Gretel, they called it. Rather unfair, I think, leaving her out of the title, but," she shrugs, "What can you do?"
"Mmm, what can you do..." I mutter.
Reaching for my glass, I take a sip of water.
"What can you do indeed. Yes, I have read the story, among many others. In fact, I spent some time looking into the authors afterward. I was interested in their connections to the magical world. And I seem to recall the famed 'Brothers Grimm' meeting a particularly grim end not so very long after their work was published."
Her smile widens, just a tad further than humanly possible.
"I have heard such too. Very poetic, no?"
"...Debatable."
"Most things are. Such as your fashion sense."
Blinking once more, I look down at my robes for today.
Purple with shining stars, chosen quite deliberately for my meeting with Severus.
"I know, I know. You are trying to look like him, no?" she says, rolling her eyes before shaking her head and sighing.
"He really preferred white as often as not, and if he did wear something a similar color it was a different shade entirely. And never patterned. The 'stars' so often described were a party trick when he was younger, and...something else, afterward."
Pausing her, lecture(?), she leans in, dark eyes focused on me as her voice becomes serious.
"I know wizards like to play with space, but there are limits. I would suggest being very careful just how far you try to push things. And playing with time?"
Shaking her head once more, she leans back into her seat.
...
"Time is certainly not something to be meddled with lightly," I agree with a slow nod. "But, I must ask, the way you speak...You knew Merlin personally?"
A very unexpected claim.
"Of course! I've lived in the Isles for...a very long time. And with how that rogue gets about, it is hardly a surprise I would run into him. Right charming bastard he was, of course. Silver hair, violet eyes, most beautiful man I ever saw."
An interesting description. Did she know him when he was young, then? Yes, she did mention-
"And I saw all of him."
...What?
Crossing her arms, the not-witch scoffs.
"I step outside one morning to find my garden utterly ruined, and that utter bastard sleeping in the middle of the mess, naked as the day he was born and smelling like he just went for a swim in drink. Which, knowing him, he very well may have," she admits. "I never did get the story out of him. Regardless, I am sure you can imagine my, displeasure, with him at that moment."
Given your daughter, and what happened to the Grimms, I am not certain I wish to.
"Of course, he chooses that moment to wake up."
She sighs again.
"Silver tongue, they say..."
*Harumph*
"He offered to, make up, for the damages. The idea was ridiculous, of course, but...I decided to humor the fool."
She shrugs.
"As I said, he was the most beautiful man I ever saw. Should make for a nice morning, at least."
Wait...Is she implying...?
"I was wrong," she admits, deflating.
"I was so very, very, wrong."
"Days. Days! He never ran out of stamina. And his techniques! Flawless! He could use his magic in ways I never thought possible, had never considered, and every part of his bod-"
"Please," I interrupt, "I...get the picture, thank you."
"Oh? Are you sure?" she asks. "You wizards are usually so eager to learn everything you can about Merlin. And you were asking about my daughters just a moment ago."
Daughters? But...
Her smile grows.
"You have wizard descendants as well?" I ask, ignoring how they were...made.
"Wizards? No, of course not. My daughters all had other powers."
Her brow furrows.
"I am not certain if I can have a wizard child..." she admits, trailing off and leaving me to grapple with the implications.
The...woman, in Hansel and Gretal is widely assumed to have been a hag.
Is she suggesting that Merlin not only had a daughter but that she was a hag?
...
She has already implied that he...
...
"Apologies. It is, a lot to come to terms with," I hedge.
"Of course!"
I delay slightly by taking another sip of water before continuing.
"Certain groups amongst wizards will react rather poorly to the idea that Merlin sired a hag," I comment, gauging her reaction.
"Hahahaha!" Throwing her head back, she clutches the armrests hard enough they creak. "A hag, he says!"
A frown forms on my face as she laughs. It...very much appears, genuine, though it can be very hard to tell with an unknown...
"Ah," she begins, smiling as she settles down, "you seem to have misunderstood. My 'dalliance' with Merlin was not a one-time thing. He fathered all my daughters. And all hags are descended from my daughters."
...
"That is... quite the claim," I comment, quashing the reflexive urge to deny it. It can't possibly be true.
...Right?
Naturally, it is that moment that a random "interesting" tidbit of knowledge, learned long ago, decides to rouse itself from memory.
All hags are closely related. Very closely related, much closer than anyone expected or thought possible Within a few generations.
It was dismissed as "Magical Lineage" at the time, given a couple of other species have shown similar traits, but...
"Oh, not so much as you might think," she replies, waving a hand dismissively. "You would not believe how many magical creatures carry his blood! Don't forget, the man was half incubus! He could not keep it in his pants if he tried. I know."
She sighs.
"Oh, do I know."
...
"I wouldn't doubt there is a tribe of trolls somewhere that can claim him as their ancestor. Heh. I mean..."
Her smile becomes, abnormal, once more, growing so very, very slightly wider than should be possible as she leans forward.
"You are a learned man, no? You do know that centaurs are not native to the Isles?"
I very much do not like what she is implying.
Shrugging when I don't respond, the woman leans back in her seat.
"To be fair, I don't know that one for certain. But given how evasive he got when I asked him about it? And how he never outright denied it?"
She chuckles slightly.
"He does have a way with horses. Animals of all sorts, yes, but especially horses."
...
Silence descends on the room as I stare at the woman.
Lounging in her seat, she gazes back idly, appearing completely at home.
...
Slowly reaching up to rub my head, I sigh.
She nods.
"Now you are getting it."
Lowering my hand, I look at her.
"Merlin. For all his, everything, he is and always will be trouble."
...
"I see."
Sighing again, I straighten myself up.
"Thank you for the...history lesson," I say. "You have certainly given me a great deal to think over."
She nods.
"But while, incredibly, interesting, we do need to move back to the original purpose of the meeting, lest it be forgotten entirely. Merlin," I give her a smile as I use the name, "knows, I am distracted easily enough," I comment, waving a hand towards the dismantled clock.
"Don't you worry dear, I understand!" she assures, looking over the shelves before returning her attention to me. "Yes, we should move things along, shouldn't we? I wouldn't want to keep you from getting your Spatial Protector working again, or fixing up that Aetheric Converter."
...
"Yes, quite. Though I am afraid that my personal projects will have to wait regardless. Too many situations and potential crises that need resolving, not to mention the day-to-day paperwork."
For the first time a truly dark look crosses the Lady's face, a look of disgust and loathing.
"Paperwork," she murmurs before shaking her head, a small smirk returning.
"Hah. I admit, Ol' Edmund Honeyduke and that snake Ottaline certainly got the better of me with that contract of theirs, but paperwork," she all but spits the word," is one problem I don't have to worry about, and good riddance too!"
Yes, the contract.
The contract that I cannot find a copy of.
While both the Minister's office and Honeydukes have an assortment of mildly relevant records, neither has the original contract. I suspect that it was kept in the headmaster's office at Hogwarts.
Unfortunately, and despite my best efforts, I have been unable to find it. And given the number of books, relics, and records that were destroyed the last time the office was seriously attacked...
Alas...I fear that, while the magic is clearly still in effect, the physical copy has long been destroyed.
Either way, my complete ignorance of the actual contract is a significant problem.
"A great boon indeed. One that several of the Professors would trade a great deal for, certainly," I admit.
"So! The trolley!"
She nods.
"The trolley. I will need a new one, of course. Can't do the job without it!"
"Naturally, naturally. I do have some questions about the origina-"
"No," she interrupts.
"I'm sorry?"
"No, dear. No questions," she answers with a polite smile. "As with my recipes, I certainly do not have to tell anyone about my magic. Why, that was one of the foundations of the contract!"
"Of course, how silly of me. Apologies."
That is...unfortunate. With how chatty she has been, practically throwing information at me, I had hoped...
But no.
No, I am more certain than ever that, however benign she may act, she is dangerous and a threat to lives that my predecessors sought to contain.
And as loathe as I am to keep what seems to be the mother of all hags around children, it appears to be working!
...Until now, admittedly. But given the choice between keeping her contained where I can keep an eye on her or letting her go free entirely, to do Merlin (...I will never think of him the same again, will I?) knows what?
"A new trolley then," I begin. "It should not be an issue, they make plenty for fairs and events. With a good spatial expansion charm it should have no trouble holding enough candy for one train ride."
Still smiling, she shakes her head.
"Oh no, that won't do at all!"
"...Why not, if I may ask?"
"Why, do you have any idea how much work I put into my trolley? How many thousands of hours? It wasn't my greatest project, certainly, but it was not a small one either!"
...
"Yes, I expected such. While I am...surprised, that you sold such a work, I am afraid that I don't see...?"
"Mmm. It's almost like you haven't even read the contract," she says, shaking her head and tutting.
Yes. Almost.
Let's both play pretend here.
I thought I was acting as Headmaster right now, not as Supreme Mugwump or Chief Warlock...
"While the employers, yourself, the Minister, and the owner of Honeydukes, are responsible for providing basic required supplies and equipment for the job, they are also required to replace or reimburse me for any of my equipment that is damaged or lost while working."
"...And intentionally selling your cart qualifies?" I ask.
"Oh yes," she replies cheerfully. "None of the failsafes or warnings triggered, so it was perfectly valid."
...
I am certain there are ways around this. In any other situation...
But playing 'lawyer' is virtually impossible when you have no idea what the 'law' is! When you are relying on the other party for information.
With enough time, I might be able to work something out. Technically, I have almost an entire year. But with so many demands already...
"Seeing as the original trolley was essentially one of a kind, it will be more or less impossible to replace, I assume?"
"Oh, I would be exceptionally surprised if you could."
"Of course, of course. You have a number in mind then, that you are placing on it?"
Her smile finally fades, just a bit.
"Ah...right. Now," raising a hand, she waggles a finger at me. "As you said, it was one of a kind! Irreplaceable!"
"But...with the terms of the contract, there are some numbers that can be...used. Given the rough amount of time I spent on it, the materials used..."
I am proud of how I have kept my composure during this conversation. Unlike...other, recent events, I believe I have held it quite well, through all the shocks and surprises.
The number she finally comes up with makes me flinch badly enough I almost knock over my water.
"That's...You're...quite certain?" I ask.
"Hmm? Well, I suppose the exact sum could vary a bit, but, more or less, yes."
"Vary a bit? Perhaps by a digit or two? Or three?"
"Hahaha! Oh no, certainly not by a digit!"
My frown grows as a thought occurs to me.
"The...The Black heir, Coeus...I highly doubt he carried this much gold on him."
"Hmm?"
"The boy who bought the original."
"Oh! I have no idea. I gave him a discount."
"...A discount."
Nodding, she gives another number. One that I am quite certain is missing digits compared to the first.
"...You charged a..." certainly not a pittance, I admit, squirming even at the smaller number, but, "amount, for an object, just days before you claim a vastly different value for the same object?"
The smile and shrug again...
"Technically, I only charged him for the original base trolley, barely a few Galleons. He was really paying for everything inside, even with a hefty discount it added up. I am charging you for my trolley, and all the work I put into it."
That...would explain-
"That's also why your balance books may be a bit lighter than expected."
What?
"Not light of course! The boy bought everything! It was a fantastic year, by any metric! And you still get a portion from most of my other work, but a smaller portion. Much smaller, in many cases."
...
"Come now, headmaster," she says, leaning forward in her seat, with her too-wide smile, "How silly would it be to give you three the chance to pool your money and simply buy me out again, hmm?"
Dark eyes flash, and the smell of death fills the room.
My wand is in my hand in an instant, but she doesn't move.
Behind her, I see them.
I see them all.
Lily and James. Benjy and Caradoc. Marlene and her entire family. The Bones. The Prewetts. All those I led to their deaths, so very recently.
Staring with dead, empty eyes, they stand atop the bodies of everyone we failed to save. Carrying...Carrying the bodies of those they killed. Borne down with their weight.
Many bodies I recognize as former students.
More men begin to line up beside them. Far, far more men.
Men in uniforms.
Men who struggle into place, climbing piles, mountains of bodies.
The smell is overwhelming.
Blood and fire and death.
The sound...tinnitus.
Distant cries of pain, and shouts of help. Barely heard over the ringing.
The war.
The war.
For all of Voldemort's power and personal cruelty, nothing they have done yet comes close to the sheer scale of the...the massacres of the past.
My, past.
...
If...
If it is working backward...
...
She's there.
I know she's there.
Right behind me.
My entire body trembles, my wand shaking as I feel her presence.
If I just turn around I can see her.
See her for the first time, since...
Since...
...
!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*
The phantasms disappear as the wave of magic smashes through the office.
Most of the glass shatters. Several shelves, tables, and the like break. Papers, books, and small objects are scattered, torn, and broken.
The Lady's smile widens further, revealing too-sharp teeth.
"You can try to pay me, but I don't want gold, headmaster. I want, concessions," she demands, ignoring the wand pointed at her.
...
Taking a deep breath, I slowly pulling my magic in before retaking my seat. Folding my hands on the desk, I glare at the, creature, across from me.
"Talk," I demand.
It is worth hearing it out, at least.
For the moment.
Tonight, I will owl Alastor. I desperately need his advice right now...