Albus walked around his office, making sure everything was in order.
Initially, things seemed good enough. After taking a second look, however, the wizard wasn't as happy with the results as he'd like. Wasting no time, he realigned the books on his shelf, arranged yesterday's mail into a tidy pile, and cleared away several stray feathers from Fawkes's perch. When he cleaned up his desk, hiding the latest issues of the Daily Prophet and Transfiguration Today in his drawer, the wizard heard from right behind him,
"You can't sit still even while waiting, huh? Why so nervous?"
A month ago, Albus would have probably jumped back in shock, not used to hearing the voice of his dead friend. Now, he didn't even flinch when addressing Armando's portrait.
"It's been a long time," he stated calmly, walking over to his coffee table. "We haven't done this in years."
In fact, Albus couldn't recall the last time he and Minerva spent time together on work-unrelated activities. The beginning of the school year had been incredibly busy for them both. Once the witch settled in, however, he hoped that she'd reach out to him. And she did, yes, but not in the way he expected her to. Apparently, Minerva still felt like she needed a school-related excuse to talk to him, just as she used to in her student days. He wished to break this routine. To succeed, he had to think of something better than inviting her for tea.
The answer turned out to be just as simple as the question.
The wizard sat down on one of the chairs, giving a fond, nostalgic look at his trusty old chess set, all set and ready to go. He remembered playing it on a regular basis not so long ago. Now, Albus couldn't for the love of Merlin recollect when or why he stopped. Surely, he didn't do so because he planned to. As days went by, he found himself having less and less free time to spare. Before he'd known, he hadn't touched chess for weeks. Things only went downhill from then on. The wizard always wanted to return to the game. Now seemed like a perfect opportunity.
While he was adjusting the protesting pawns on the board, Albus heard approaching steps. He got to his feet to straighten his robes.
After a quick knock on the door, Minerva entered his office. A bowl of biscuits in her hands, she seemed excited and ready to play.
"Hi," she said tentatively when he failed to properly react to her arrival.
"Hello, Minerva." Albus greeted her with open arms, gesturing for the witch to come further in. "I see you brought a little something?"
"Ginger newts," she briskly replied, placing the bowl next to the cheering chess pieces.
While waving back at them, she was caught off-guard by Albus pulling out her chair.
"Thank you," said Minerva, evidently taken aback.
"Since you took care of the food," stated the wizard in a cheerful tone, taking the seat on the opposing side, "let me propose something to drink."
One flick of his wand conjured two fancy cups full of hot orange liquid. Its scent filled the room, as well as Minerva's nostrils.
"Lemon tea?" she inquired, taking another sniff.
Albus's eyebrows lifted from above his biscuit.
"Why, don't you like it?"
Minerva shook her head, warming her hands against the teacup.
"I do. It's Rolanda's favourite. She always serves it."
The wizard smiled at the mention of Minerva's school friend. From what he recalled, the girls started hanging out soon after Minerva had joined the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Over the years, they seemed to grow rather close. He was glad that they kept in touch.
"I've heard she's now a professional Quidditch player," commented Albus, which earned him a curious look.
"For Montrose Magpies, yes." At the mention of Quidditch, the witch's eyes sparkled with excitement. Her stare became dreamy. "I saw her play last week. She's amazing! I'd never tell she could fly with such grace. This speed – my, I wish we could've moved half as fast on our school brooms."
Albus nodded in understanding. Even though he couldn't honestly tell that he shared this opinion. Not after what had happened during Minerva's last match. But he didn't say it out loud, respecting the fact that she loved the game enough for the both of them.
"You miss Quidditch, don't you?" he stated in a soft, understanding tone.
"Yes," Minerva breathed out, dunking her ginger newt into the cup. "But I could never play it professionally."
"And why is that?" Albus asked, intrigued.
According to his knowledge from careers advice, his then student indeed had only ever expressed interest in one particular job. However, this didn't explain why she was speaking about not pursuing a Quidditch career with such finality. Especially that working for the Ministry wasn't on her job list, either – and yet, she'd been doing it for years.
Under his questioning gaze, Minerva seemed to lose some of her confidence.
"Well, I –"
The witch's answer was interrupted by a loud bang. They both looked up, startled, just in time to see Silvanus Kettleburn bursting through the door. The professor barely cared to knock. His metal foot clanked against the floor with every second step. The moment he spotted Dumbledore, the teacher announced in a hurry,
"Albus – we caught the Bugbear, but there's a problem!" Only then had he noticed that the Headmaster had company. "Oh, hi, Minerva! – See, you were right, the poor thing's hurt. But I can't fix it. None of my spells seem to be working. We need your permission to transport it to St. Claire's."
Albus's face remained calm. He looked from Silvanus to Minerva.
"Could you excuse me for a moment?" he asked, getting up only after she nodded her head.
By the time the wizard got back, the bowl of biscuits was noticeably emptier.
"What's the story with the Bugbear?" inquired Minerva right after Silvanus's departure.
Needing a moment to collect his thoughts, Albus took a sip of his tea. To his astonishment, it was already lukewarm.
"I'm not certain if you've heard, Minerva, but our flock of chickens has been significantly diminished." As she shook her head, the wizard continued. "Anyway, Ogg and Silvanus set up a trap to catch the culprit. Who turned out to be a hurt Bugbear, as we've both just learned."
"I didn't know we have wild Bugbears roaming freely around the grounds," she pointed out.
"A few, yes. They live deep in the forest and usually keep well to themselves. It's very unusual for one to – wander…"
Albus's voice drifted off. The wizard pricked up his ears, sure that he'd heard something. Soon enough, green flames erupted from the fireplace. A face of a middle-aged witch emerged from between the logs.
"Dumbledore!" the head shouted with impatience. "Dumbledore, are you there?"
Albus closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. Sometimes, he truly despised the fame and attention he seemed to have gained overnight. Especially that it had happened for all the wrong reasons.
He could guess who the caller was even without looking. Recently, he'd been contacted by this very person much too often for his liking. At first, the wizard was thrilled at the opportunity of having a vote in something big, so he happily offered his help. However, now that his input was regularly required, even for the smallest of things, this duty became bothersome and borderline frustrating. His first instinct was to ignore the incoming call, pretend he's not there… But, no matter how much he didn't feel like it, the wizard knew that he had to answer.
"Minister," said Albus with proper courtesy, kneeling down by the fire. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"
Brows slightly furrower, the Minister for Magic regarded him for a moment. Her head turned, glancing left and right. She lowered her voice.
"This is confidential. Are you alone?"
"No, actually. I have a guest." Albus moved away, so that Wilhelmina Tuft would have a clear view. "Minister, this is Minerva McGonagall, our Transfiguration Professor."
Taken aback by the unexpected introductions, Minerva respectfully bowed her head at her former employer's boss.
"Yes, yes, the pleasure's all mine." The Minister's attitude was negligent. She didn't pay the female professor much attention, quickly returning to the matter at hand. "Well, I'll be quick, then."
Once she provided him with a brief explanation, the witch made sure to make her demands clear.
"This has to be dealt with by tomorrow. Please contact me whenever you can."
Brows knitted, the Headmaster nodded. "Of course."
Next moment, the call got disconnected. The emerald flames grew and then disappeared as quickly as they burst out. Swiftly, Albus got up from the floor. When he turned around, he was met with a highly unexpected view.
Minerva was raising and lowering her brows, one or two at a time, shifting her head and changing facial expressions. All the while, Fawkes stared at her intently, moving his beak and making soft crying sounds. If the wizard knew his pet, the phoenix was enjoying the extra attention.
Equally touched and amused by what he saw, Albus couldn't help a heartfelt chuckle. To his disappointment, this ended the scene. Caught in the act, Minerva momentarily stopped making faces. Trying to hide her discomfort, she pretended to clear her glasses.
"I'm sorry for the interruptions," said the wizard, joining her back at the table. "You see, my weekends are usually much less busy."
"Maybe you should set some standards for your free days?" the witch suggested with a shrug. "Like a no-work policy?"
Rubbing his eyes, he let out a long breath. He wished the solution would indeed be that simple. But there was no time to delve into this rabbit hole at the moment. Stretching his hands, Albus said,
"Let's start the game while we still can, shall we?"
The witch responded with a defiant smirk. "I can't wait."
Having the advantage of choosing the colour, Minerva opened with white. Albus tried to check her king in four moves but wasn't at all surprised when she saw straight through him. Anticipating a longer game, he played around her castling – which she wisely avoided, causing him to think twice about his upcoming turns.
"Look, he needs to think! We've got him," said Minerva's bishop, high-fiving the adjacent knight.
She shared the enthusiasm, bumping their little fists with her finger. Albus's attention wavered from the game to watching Minerva. She was having fun interacting with the chess pieces that evidently recognized her from way back. Laughing alongside them, the witch refused their pleas to reveal her tactics in fear of being overheard.
When her eyes met his, the wizard thought he should probably look away. It was impolite of him to stare. Why did it turn out to be so difficult to stop?
Thankfully, a muted knock finally made him avert his gaze.
A barn owl flew into the room and handed Albus a letter bearing the Wizengamot stamp. His hands shook when he broke the seal. Court summons arrived almost exclusively on business days. If he received one now, something must have happened. The wizard unpacked the letter and quietly read its contents.
His suspicions were confirmed by the first paragraph. This wasn't an ordinary case. Vinda Rosier, one of Gellert's most trustworthy followers, an extremely dangerous dark witch, had just been brought into the Ministry by a group of Aurors. It was against the law to put her into Azkaban without a trial, but it was also unreasonable to expect her to stay put and wait until Monday. Therefore, his immediate presence was required. As a warlock – but also for very personal reasons.
When he turned to tell Minerva the news, her expression was sombre. Like she'd already known.
"I've just received an urgent owl," he informed, confirming her suspicions. "I'm afraid we'll have to postpone our meeting. I'm truly sorry, Minerva. I'll let you know once I'm free."
Minerva got up without a word. Albus helped her with the bowl of newts, put his hand on her elbow, and lightly steered the witch towards the door. The moment she was gone, he threw the Floo powder into the fireplace and walked into the green fire.
Unsurprisingly, the process took longer than expected. And then some, as Albus was caught on his way out by Wilhelmina. After he finally came back, tired both mentally and emotionally, he leaned heavily into his chair to catch a break.
Only to find a pile of mail that definitely wasn't there before.
Albus pinched the bridge of his crooked nose. He had no time, strength, nor intention to answer any of these at the moment. Nevertheless, the wizard proceeded to open them one by one, just in case they contained anything important. To his discouragement, most included invitations to events he had no intentions to participate in. After years of declining the same offers, he wondered why the organizers still bothered.
"Young McGonagall's right, my boy," said Armando's portrait in his annoyingly knowing tone. "You're too soft. Back in my days…"
"Thank you, Armando," the wizard cut him off with sudden impatience.
He wasn't in the mood. Especially that the real Armando Dippet was partially responsible for Albus's habit of overworking himself.
But now, Albus was the Headmaster. He was the one in power. On his new position, he could do so much, make so many changes. There was a lot to take care of, but he enjoyed the adrenaline rush just as much as the feeling of accomplishment that followed. After years of doubting himself, Albus finally believed that he could make the world a better place without the power getting to his head. Or at least he truly hoped so.
Done with the mail, the wizard sat back and took a quick glance at his watch. Momentarily, he jumped to his feet. It was getting late, and he had a prior engagement to take care of.
While walking swiftly to the gates, he ran into Minerva. She must have been outside, judging from her travelling cloak. The moment she saw him, the witch gave Albus an expectant gaze. All she got in return was a brief, apologetic smile.
When he arrived at the Hog's Head, his informant had already been waiting. A dark, hooded figure sitting in the far end of the room. The wizard took a step forward and was almost knocked off his feet.
"Oy! 'm sorry, sir," muttered a tipsy Hagrid, having bumped into Dumbledore by mistake.
Albus's heart jumped in his chest before he remembered that there was nothing to be alarmed with. The boy couldn't have possibly recognized him, not from under his disguise. Nevertheless, the wizard had to be careful not to run into more familiar faces.
"You're late," said Hoel Dearborn after Albus joined him at the table.
"Apologies. I know how much you value your time."
Dearborn humphed under his breath. He was an older wizard who worked at Chimera's Tongue, an animal shop at Knockturn Alley, just a few doors away from Borgin and Burkes. He had a keen eye, a head for business, and knew everybody who regularly visited Knockturn Alley. Which made him a highly valuable ally.
"Let's not waste any more of it, then, shall we?"
Despite bumpy beginnings, the rest of the conversation was kept in a casual tone. Just as planned, their brief talk went mostly unnoticed by the rest of the guests. Albus would say this was due to the amount of people doing shady businesses in Aberforth's pub.
Once all the necessary information had been shared, Dumbledore put a leather sack on the tabletop and slid it over.
"This should cover your expenses," he said in a hushed voice.
Dearborn hid it under his cloak without looking.
"Nice doing business with you, as always."
Slowly, Albus stood up and headed to the exit. On his way out, he nodded his farewell to Aberforth, who merely grumbled in response. After walking a significant distance away, the wizard checked his pockets. A quick search revealed a note imperceptibly passed to him during themeeting. From what Dearborn had written, he deciphered the real message, using the secret key they'd just exchanged.
It was a list of all Borgin and Burke's clients that came in contact with Tom Riddle, including the items they traded. All regular customers, nothing out of the ordinary. This confirmed that Albus's former student hadn't done anything suspicious lately, perhaps keeping a low profile. The wizard found it reassuring and unnerving at the same time.
With a snap of his fingers, he set the parchment on fire.
Back in the castle, Albus turned to the Great Hall for dinner. Even though he hadn't eaten for hours, he wasn't really hungry. As he stared at all the food, unable to take his pick, he noticed Minerva eying him from above her plate. In response, he produced what he hoped to be an encouraging smile.
"Are you done with everything for today, Albus?" she asked in a conversational tone.
The wizard pondered her question in his mind, just to be sure.
"Yes, thank Merlin. It's been a long day."
He truly meant it. He felt exhausted. His limbs felt heavy, his temples began to hurt.
"Do you need some time? Or do we start right after dinner?"
Albus looked at her blankly before the meaning finally dawned on him. At this moment, he understood that this day was far from over.
A thought of rescheduling their meeting quickly crossed his mind. However, tomorrow he was just as busy as today. Meanwhile, Minerva continued to stare at him with so much expectations and eagerness…
"Right after, if it's no trouble," he said at last.
"Perfect," she replied, returning to her food. "But please don't feel like you need to rush; I'll wait until you've eaten."
Having grudgingly taken several bites, just to avoid explaining himself, Albus got up from the table. Minerva soon followed. Trying to remember where they left off, he recalled another detail of their meeting.
"Do you still have the newts?" he asked mischievously, having realized he wouldn't mind some sweets.
To his disappointment, the witch slowly shook her head.
"Nope, I ate them," she answered with a straight face.
"All of them?"
With an exaggeratedly shocked expression, Albus looked her over, like he was wondering where she'd put them all.
"Alright, you got me," she said, stifling a chuckle. "I saved you some. We can go get them."
After retrieving the biscuits from her room, she handed him the jar.
"Thank you," replied Albus, as he took out a ginger newt and put it into his mouth. Not without hesitation, he added, "I worried you'd give up on me."
There was a pause that lasted for several steps.
"No, I get it." She breathed out, holding back a resigned sigh. "Work's more important than chess."
This wasn't exactly what she meant to say. At this moment, she was thankful that Albus was no Legilimens. At least, she hoped he wasn't, because his next statement caught her by surprise.
"Well, it shouldn't be."
Minerva's mouth fell half-open, even though she had nothing to respond with. They walked the rest of the way in silence. Once back in the Headmaster's office, the professors went straight for the chess board, resuming their game.
"How was your day?" asked Albus, taking down Minerva's pawn.
"Good. I read a book for most of the day," she replied, castling kingside. Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, "And I, um – met with Elphinstone, in Three Broomsticks."
The witch sounded as though she was unsure whether or not to share this last part with him. This seemed rather interesting. Politely, the wizard inquired,
"How is he?"
"He's alright, I guess," came her whimsical reply.
Albus leaned forward in his chair. He realized that Minerva left the Ministry, and by extension Elphinstone Urquart and his team, rather abruptly. Yet, the wizard hadn't anticipated that this might have an impact on her relationship with her former boss. But then, it couldn't be that bad if they were seeing each other off work. He'd really want to learn more but failed to find an excuse to dig deeper without prying.
Meanwhile, Minerva played with her hair, searching for the right moment to speak up.
"Albus?" said the witch after he finished his move. "Am I required to stay for the Christmas holidays?"
He was taken aback by this rapid change of subject but recovered rather quickly.
"No, of course not," stated Albus in a calm, reassuring voice. "Quite a few people are already staying, including me, so you can leave no problem."
Minerva visibly relaxed. This was great news. However, she'd always assumed that, as the youngest member of the staff, it would be her responsibility to watch the students during the break. Even though her employer had just told her otherwise, she felt inclined to make sure.
"Are you certain? It won't be a problem?"
"Yes. Go, have a good time with your family." Discretely, he held back a yawn. "Best regards to Malcolm."
In the meantime, another black figure was swept off the board. A white bishop kicked the fallen-off parts over the edge.
It was Albus's turn now. He took Minerva's pawn with his queen. All of a sudden, his own chess piece roared,
"Hey, you were supposed to move me this turn!" The black rook stomped his foot in frustration.
The wizard rubbed the corners of his eyes. He took another look at the board.
"Oh – you're right. My apologies."
With a troubled frown, Minerva peered over her glasses. It was highly unusual for Albus to make basic mistakes in his strategy. She wondered what the cause might be, refusing to admit what should be rather obvious.
However, when she caught him covering yet another yawn, the witch knew it was time to end this.
"It's pointless," she stated pointedly, causing Albus to look up, his expression blank. "You're not even putting up a fight. I'd better go, so you can get some rest. You must be really tired."
There was concern painted in Minerva's eyes. After waiting so long for her turn in Albus's tight schedule, it wasn't easy for her to back away. She wanted to spend more time with him, But not at all costs, as it turned out.
"I'm sorry; you're right." His features softened in gratitude. Come to think of it, she'd been the only one who noticed. "Thank you."
They both stood up, to the chess pieces' disappointing groans. Despite her initial protests, Albus walked Minerva to the door. When she was about to say her goodbyes, he swiftly cut in.
"What about a rematch? Same time next week?"
Instead of giving him a resounding yes, the witch hesitated.
"Maybe we should skip straight to the evening," she stated only half-jokingly.
Because she knew that, if today was anything to go by, this would be much harder than he made it sound. Albus must have realized the cause of her reluctance, as he quickly added,
"We won't be interrupted; I can promise you that."
With his eyes staring deep into hers, Minerva was torn. She wanted nothing more than to believe him – but she also had good reasons not to. The witch tilted her head, scanning his pale face. Despite the dark circles under his eyes, he seemed determined. His declaration too sounded honest.
Ignoring her better judgment, Minerva's defences began to melt. Before she might regret it, she jutted up her chin in determination.
"I'll hold you to it."
Albus's face momentarily lit up. He beamed at her, his eyes twinkling. Even though she continually refused to get her hopes up, the witch couldn't help but return the smile.