1977 - late February - Dumbledore Manor
Though only a couple minutes had passed, it felt like hours when the fireplace in the dining room roared to life, casting the walls a green hue. Fleamont pushed himself away from his place on the wall, walking over to greet a dishevelled Poppy, who seemed to be slightly out of breath.
"Mister Potter, next time you summon me, include more detail if you will," the young witch said while stepping out of the flames, annoyance etched on her features.
"Poppy," he greeted her, hands raised in a placating gesture before directing her attention to the floor where Hermione lay. While they had waited for the Hogwarts matron, Minerva had cleaned Hermione up as best as she could; the blood and grime were now gone, as were most of the glass shards. The scene was still gruesome, and Poppy stopped in her tracks to do a double take. Poppy's annoyance vanished as her eyes roamed the scene, the colour draining from her face. "What-" she began but cut herself off, rushing past Fleamont to kneel beside the girl.
"You did a good job of stabilising her. We should not waste more time, though. Is there a room where I can properly care for her?" She asked, eyeing her headmaster curiously. She knew it was his home, and by the look on his distraught face, this was someone close to his heart.
"Yes, of course. Her bedroom is upstairs, if that is suitable," he replied, hesitant to stand up.
"That would be great."
Albus waved his wand, and Hermione slowly rose from the floor, her arms hanging limp by her side. He led them down the silent hallway, chatter from the kitchen the only sound breaking the silence. He gently directed Hermione's body the other way and up a grand staircase towards her room. There, he carefully set her down on the bed but made no notion to leave.
"Minerva, if you could please stay and assist me while I work on the young lass?" Poppy requested, indirectly asking the others to leave the room.
"I'm not leaving her!" Albus tried to insist, but Poppy fixed him with a gentle but firm look. "Albus, you are clearly in no state to function properly right now, let alone be any help. If you stay, you'll only make this harder for me and for her."
"But-" Albus hesitated, his eyes lingering on his daughter's pale face. He knew he couldn't help but dreaded leaving Hermione's side, even for a moment. He took a deep breath and tried to compose himself. With a gentle kiss to Hermione's forehead, he turned and left the room with his shoulders slumped in defeat. Euphemia and Fleamont followed their friend out, casting one last, sorrowful look at the bed before closing the door quietly behind them.
"I assume you have questions," Albus said after a beat of silence as they walked back downstairs. His entire body and mind felt tired after the events of the evening. He wasn't prepared for any of it. Not for having to explain himself to his fellow witches and wizards, and especially not for losing his wife or his injured daughter. It drained the life out of him, and while he was almost seventy years of age, he felt like a millennium had passed within the last hour.
"I'm sure the questions can wait, Albus," Euphemia told him gently, putting her hand on his arm when they come to a stop outside the kitchen. He thought about returning to the dining room and had paused outside for a moment, but couldn't bring himself to enter.
"No one expects you to explain anything right now," Fleamont agreed, his voice thick with sympathy. Hermione's arrival had rattled them both, and just thinking about what they would do if they were in Albus' position chilled their bones. Their boy, James, was a couple of years younger than Hermione, they assumed. The couple didn't want to imagine what Albus must be going through right now.
"There isn't much else to do, is there?" Albus replied with a defeated sigh and entered the kitchen. The room fell silent when he entered. His friends looking at him worried but also curious. Albus couldn't find it in him to feel offended by their curiosity. He'd be curious himself if it was someone else in his stead. He did hide a wife and daughter from them. He avoided their eyes and instead tried to find a place for him to stand.
"I owe you all an apology. While it was not my duty to inform you of my personal life, as friends, I should have trusted you with the truth about my wife and daughter. I know you all have questions, and I will try to answer everything as best as I can, he said once he stood next to the sink, his hands linked in front of him.
"How is she doing?" Amelia Bones asked, standing next to her brother, Edgar.
"She is stable for now. Poppy is up in her room working on her as we speak."
Social etiquette and being afraid to overstep any boundaries, no one really knew how to continue with the conversation. They all wanted to know more, but no one knew the right question to ask. Albus sighed, running a hand down his tired face. He knew he couldn't put it off for much longer.
"My wife's name is... was Irene Dumbledore," he corrected himself; the wordwascatching painfully in his throat. Tears welled in his eyes as he continued, "She came from a prominent Greek wizarding family, the Zotos. We met during a joint research endeavour years ago and fell in love. We chose to keep our relationship a secret due to the power my name holds in Wizarding Britain."
Albus found it hard to talk about his wife in the past tense. Knowing she would never walk out of the fireplace again after a long day to cook with him and Hermione in this very kitchen or sitting in the garden by the little pond on a sunny weekend. He would never take the Floo to Greece again and be greeted by a set table, while Hermione told him animatedly about her newest potion project.
"Two years after we married, we welcomed little Hermione Katerina. She was the best thing that had ever happened to me, and she is my pride and joy. She grew up surrounded by family and friends in Greece, sheltered from the life I led back in Britain. Irene and her family taught her everything they knew." Thinking back to Hermione's childhood brought a smile to his face. Everyone in the room could tell that he loved her with everything he had.
"Why didn't you send her to Hogwarts, Albus?" Euphemia asked, baffled. "Surely it would have been safer?"
"We didn't want her identity to become uncovered and knew in Greece she could learn freely without living a lie. Families in Greece had been homeschooling their children for centuries, and their knowledge of magic is astounding. I was able to teach Hermione everything that would have been taught at Hogwarts," he explained with a shrug. "We tried to protect her as best we could, but it seems it wasn't quite enough," he added quietly.
Augusta Longbottom, usually reserved, spoke up with a stern, steady voice. "This wasn't your doing, Albus." Frank's mother was usually quiet during meetings, only butting in when she thought they were seriously going in the wrong direction. Most times Frank attended and reported anything of importance back to her, but he had Auror duties that night and was unable to attend.
"I spoke to her through the Floo last night. Neither Hogwarts nor the Zoto Villa were under the Fidelius Charm and therefore registered with the Ministry."
"The attackers are the only ones to blame here, Headmaster," Gideon said, echoing Albus' own past lessons to him and his brother.
"I believe that was said under completely different circumstances, Gideon," Albus replied with a raised eyebrow and the ghost of a smile on his lips.
"Either way, those responsible will be brought to justice." Euphemia stepped forward, her voice soft and filled with compassion. "Thank you for sharing this, Albus, despite everything. We are so sorry for your loss."
"Albus," Minerva called softly from the doorway, breaking the tense silence in the kitchen. "She is stable for now, if you'd like to see her."
"Yes, thank you, Minerva," he said, standing straight. The relief he felt spread through his body and eased the tension in his shoulders.
"Albus, we're all here for you. If you need anything, just ask," Arthur murmured as Albus passed him through the room. The sentiment was echoed by nods of agreement from other members of the Order. He followed Minerva out of the room in silence, the only sound their feet echoing on the floor.
"I'll handle things at Hogwarts, Albus," offered Minerva just before they reached Hermione's room. "You stay here and focus on Hermione and make sure she is alright. I will make sure everything is under control at school."
"I don't know what I did to deserve a friend like you, Minerva," choked Albus. His emotions were all over the place tonight. He usually tried to be more reserved, to not show weakness, to not show his cards. Hermione's arrival, however, had all that turned upside down.
"Don't get used to it, old man," Minerva quipped back, a soft smile on her face as she opened the door.
Hermione lay tucked into bed, her bandaged arms resting on top of the duvet, her bruised head cushioned by a pillow. If not for the injuries, one might say she was sleeping peacefully. His heart clenched at the sight. Not only did he lose Irene tonight, but he couldn't keep his promise of nothing ever happening to Hermione. He had promised to protect her from every evil in the world.
"She is stable for now," Poppy commented softly, bringing him back out of his thoughts. She was sitting in a chair beside Hermione's bed. "Her injuries are severe. Multiple lacerations, broken bones, and internal bleeding. There are also the dark magical residues in her body as well as wounds inflicted by a cursed knife."
"But she will be alright?" He choked out, his voice barely a whisper.
"Physically, yes. We don't know what the attack did to her mentally," Poppy murmured ruefully. Being the matron at a school, she had dealt with a lot of injuries and accidents, but she had never had to deal with a victim of such a gruesome attack. "I'm sorry, I can't do more for her tonight. If she is anything like her father, she will pull through this," she added gently.
"You did more than I could have hoped for, Poppy. I couldn't trust anyone else with the life of my daughter. Thank you for everything." He conjured another chair and sat down on the opposite side of Hermione, taking her hand gently.
"I must be getting back to school. I will come by tomorrow morning and check on her," Poppy said while gathering her things from the room.
"Poppy, I have one more favour to ask." Albus stopped her halfway through the room. "Irene... Hermione's mother... She is laid downstairs in a guest bedroom. Could you please prepare her for a burial and keep her in stasis? I won't bury her until Hermione is ready, but I don't want her to see her mother like this."
Poppy's eyes welled up, touched by the trust he was placing in her. She had no doubt that if Hermione wasn't injured right now, he would do it himself. "Of course, Albus," she replied softly. "I'll take care of it."
She cast one last glance at Albus before following Minerva out of the room. She had known him for years, but seeing him now—hunched over, gently stroking his daughter's pale face—she realised there was still so much she didn't know about the man who always seemed so composed.
As Poppy headed to the guest bedroom where Albus had laid Irene's body, Minerva entered the kitchen. The remaining members of the order sat around in quiet conversation.
"How is everything?" Euphemia asks gently, patting the seat next to her at the kitchen island. "We couldn't bring ourselves to leave."
"She is stable now, and Poppy managed to heal most of her injuries," Minerva replied, taking the offered seat. "Albus is up there with her now."
"Such tragedy. I can't imagine what he must be feeling right now. I'd be beside myself if that was James or Sirius," Euphemia said, wringing her hands. "I have never seen Albus this distressed before. He's usually composed and keeps his emotions masked. But tonight..."
"Can you really blame him?" Minerva waved her wand, summoning a bottle of firewhiskey from a nearby shelf. Without a word, Euphemia conjured two glasses, setting them down between them. "His carefully guarded secret was exposed in the worst possible way. Everything he tried to protect has been shattered tonight."
"We should leave and give them some space," Fleamont spoke up from across the kitchen. "There's nothing more we can do tonight."
Gideon and Fabian, who sat by the window, nodded in agreement. "We'll check in with Moody at the office tomorrow," Gideon added.
Arthur cleared his throat. "We need to expand our web of informants. We can't afford to miss something like this again." It had been plaguing him the entire night that his information on the corrupted Floo Connection came one day too late. If only he had learnt of it sooner, there wouldn't be a widower with a gravely injured child. "I will also explore alternative methods of communication."
"That is a good idea. I'll search through our library at Potter Manor and see if I can find anything to strengthen the wards," Fleamont proposes, and with that, all members made notes on what they could work on in the coming days. They were committed to the cause before, but tonight's attack made them want to do more. If Albus could be targeted, none of them were safe.