Chapter Nineteen

On Thursday, 1 June, Minerva sat her first N.E.W.T.s...Charms and History of Magic...and for the next six days, Albus saw nothing of her other than at meals in the Great Hall.

After the conclusion of her last exam, the Defence Against the Dark Arts practical, the following Tuesday, she was utterly exhausted and completely exhilarated. Moments after Examiner Lestrange had dismissed her with a "thank you" and a reassuring wink, Minerva practically skipped out of the Great Hall and headed directly for Professor Dumbledore's office.

"Enter," came the voice behind the door when she knocked.

She stepped into his office and closed the door behind her, leaning against it. "Finished!" she announced.

"Congratulations, my dear!" he said. "How do you think it went?"

"All right, I think. The Arithmancy exam was a bugger, though. I'm sure I mucked up the Chaldean calculations in one section; I forgot about the differences in Imperial and Post-Achaemenid Aramaic," she said glumly.

"Poor Darius must be spinning in his grave."

"Don't tease, Albus. Besides, my stupidity may just have lost you your Galleons, don't forget."

"Don't call yourself stupid, Minerva. At least not in front of me," he said. Brightening, he added, "I happen to know that you got through Transfiguration with flying colours; Madam Marchbanks came to visit me after the exam and said she hadn't seen such an impressive student since . . . well, since me."

"Really? She said that?"

"Oh, yes. I told her, of course, that it was all down to my extraordinary teaching skills."

"Of course," Minerva said with a smirk. She opened her bag and began to retrieve her books in preparation for their lesson.

"Not today, my sweet," said Albus. She looked up questioningly.

"You have been working entirely too hard. I think the completion of your N.E.W.T.s calls for celebration, don't you agree?"

"What exactly did you have in mind, Professor?" she asked with a knowing smile.

"Step into my private quarters, and we can discuss it."

He knew this was wrong, all wrong. He had decided that the best course of action would be to break it off with Minerva before things got too far out of control.

In the days in which he had seen so little of her, he had promised himself that he would do it after her N.E.W.T.s. It had been almost easy to think of it then, when she wasn't sitting in the front row of his classroom twice per week nor looking up at him expectantly from the chair in his office after one of her transformation exercises. Now that she was standing in front of him, her eyes glimmering with happiness at finally having the weight of her exams off her shoulders, and...he hoped, despite himself...at being with him again, he found it impossible to consider hurting her, even if it was for her own good.

Give me chastity and continence, but not yet, he said to himself with a pained smile.

Albus Dumbledore, like Augustine of Hippo, would come to be venerated in his later years. Unlike Augustine, however, he would make no confession of his youthful follies. Some sins he would ultimately expiate in a fashion that would have pleased the saint; others would remain unaccounted, except in the memory of the woman who loved him.

He did not want to hurt her, no. And he needed a respite from the tension that had been creeping over him in recent weeks. There would be no harm in allowing them another few days of joy, would there?

Soon, he thought.

When they stepped through the bookcase door into his sitting room, Minerva noticed what looked like a strange type of wireless set on a side table.

"What's this?" she asked. "I wouldn't have taken you for an aficionado of Witching Hour."

"You are very nearly correct. It is a Muggle wireless," he told her.

"Why do you have a Muggle wireless set in your sitting room?"

"I am keeping an ear to the developments in the Muggle war."

"Developments?"

"Today, my dear, the Allies began their invasion of Europe," he answered, a small, private smile playing across his face.

"Invasion? But, Albus, that is wonderful news!" she exclaimed. "Isn't it?"

"Oh, yes. Very good news indeed. From the early reports, the British and American airborne divisions made successful landings around Caen and neighbouring villages. They met with surprisingly little in the way of armoured resistance."

She noticed the small, knowing smile again.

He said, "And Allied naval forces have been landing on the beaches of Normandy since early this morning. There is still heavy combat on several of the beaches, but the Allies appear to be gaining significant ground. It is very good news, Minerva. Very good." This time, he smiled broadly as he took both her hands and drew her into a tight embrace.

When they broke, Minerva surveyed his face for a few moments. "Albus?"

"Hmm?"

"How did you know that there would be 'developments' in the Muggle war?" She had her suspicions, of course, but she didn't really expect him to tell her anything.

"Lucky guess?" he offered.

"Of course," she said sardonically.

Weeks later, when Minerva heard more detailed accounts of the Normandy Invasion, she would hazard a guess...correct...that the diversionary tactics the Allies had employed had benefitted from magical involvement. Still years later, she would discover that Albus and Filius Flitwick had cooked up a way of charming "dummy" ships, aircraft ,and even tanks, which were deployed by the Allies around the Pas de Calais to convince the Germans that the invasion would begin there. German soldiers and commanders alike would always swear that they had seen the craft move about as if in tactical manoeuvres and that actual, moving men were operating and working around these craft. It was put down to the stress of combat.

"Would you like to have a listen?" Albus asked.

"Oh, yes, please! But I thought Muggle electronics wouldn't work here. Too much magical energy or something."

"That is true, as a rule. However I find that there are advantages to being me," he said with a rather beguiling smirk as he waved his wand at the strange-looking box.

A voice suddenly filled the room with American-accented English:

". . . common cause with the enemy and so betrayed their country will be removed. As France is liberated from her oppressors, you yourselves will choose your representatives and the government under which you wish to live.

"In the course of this campaign for the final defeat of the enemy, you may sustain further loss and damage. Tragic though they may be, they are part of the price of victory. I assure you that I shall do all in my power to mitigate your hardships. I know that I can count on your steadfastness now no less than in the past. The heroic deeds of Frenchmen who have continued the struggle against the Nazis and their Vichy satellites, in France and throughout the French Empire, have been an example and an inspiration to all of us.

"This landing is but the opening phase of the campaign in Western Europe. Great battles lie ahead. I call upon all who love freedom to stand with us. Keep your faith staunch...our arms are resolute...together we shall achieve victory."

The flat-sounding accent of the American was then replaced by the clipped, English tones of a BBC announcer:

"That was General Dwight Eisenhower, Supreme Commander of the Allied Forces, speaking to the citizens of occupied France. We are informed that the King will address his subjects in just a few minutes, and we will broadcast His Majesty's speech to you as it happens . . ."

"Albus," said Minerva, a frown furrowing her pale brow, "The Muggle-borns...they will want to know about this." She added uncertainly, "Do you think they might be allowed to hear their king's address?"

He took each of her hands in his and kissed them. "That, my dear, is a lovely idea. I'll ask the Headmaster right now." He hesitated, then added, "Perhaps it would be best for you to wait in my office while I Floo-call him."

"Of course," she said and disappeared through the door.

In truth, Albus was slightly ashamed that he had not had the idea Minerva had suggested. He had been so wrapped up in his own part in the war effort and in his thoughts about Minerva that it simply hadn't occurred to him that others in the castle might benefit from information about the Muggle war.

A few minutes later, Headmaster Dippet's voice rang through the castle.

"Your attention, please! I have been informed of an important development in the Muggle war in Europe: The Allies have today launched an invasion into occupied France. Those wishing to hear the address by the Muggle king of England should report to the Great Hall immediately."

Minerva and Albus hurried through the castle, Albus clutching the Muggle wireless set under his arm. When they arrived in the Great Hall, a group of about twenty students was milling about nervously. Not all, Albus noted, were Muggle-borns. In addition, Professors Burbage and Merrythought were standing together near the High Table, talking quietly to one another.

Albus set the wireless down and spoke. "As Headmaster Dippet announced, the Allied invasion of Europe has begun. This is very good news, not only for those of you of Muggle heritage, but for all the free peoples of Europe."

Without further comment, he waved his wand at the wireless, and the BBC announcer's voice came through, startling some of the collected students. After a few moments, a baritone voice began to sound, oddly halting on the first sentence, then gaining strength, although its cadence was still strangely slow and deliberate.

"Four years ago, our nation and empire stood alone against an overwhelming enemy with our backs to the wall, tested as never before in our history, and we survived that test. The spirit of the people, resolute and dedicated, burned like a bright flame, surely, from those unseen fires which nothing can quench . . ."

By the time the king finished, many of the assembled students were weeping. Minerva was standing next to a small first-year Ravenclaw who was trying bravely and vainly to control his sobs. The boy turned a tear-stained face to her and whispered, "Me dad was RAF. He was shot down over France during the German invasion."

Minerva didn't know what "RAF" or "shot down" meant, but she took the boy's hand and gave it what she hoped was a reassuring squeeze.

As the strains of "God Save the King" began to emanate from the wireless, a small chorus of voices joined from the Great Hall. When the song ended, a voice Minerva couldn't identify shouted, "God save the King!" She thought it an odd expression...the Muggle monarch was not in any danger as far as she understood...but it obviously meant something to the Muggle-borns, as the phrase was echoed back enthusiastically.

After a few minutes, Albus told the assembled group, "Thank you all for coming. We should clear out of the hall now so that the house-elves can prepare for the evening meal."

As the students filed out, Professor Merrythought approached Albus, saying, "Why do I suspect this was your idea rather than Armando's?"

"Actually, I must confess that the idea came from Miss McGonagall," Albus said. "I was listening to the wireless when she came for her tutorial, and she suggested the Muggle-borns might want to hear their king."

"Smashing idea, Miss McGonagall," said Professor Burbage, who had joined the small group. "Makes me wonder why you didn't do a N.E.W.T. in Muggle Studies."

"I really would have liked to, Professor," answered Minerva. "But I'm afraid it just didn't fit into my schedule."

"That's a pity," said Burbage. "It would be wonderful to have at least one pure-blood in the class. It would set an important example in these troubled times. In any event, I'm very pleased you thought of the Muggle-borns today. It shows the proper spirit. How is your brother, by the way? He's in France now, isn't he?"

"Yes, Professor, at Beauxbatons."

"Good thing they're in the south...far from all the fighting," said Professor Merrythought.

"Yes, we're very thankful for that," replied Minerva.

"I have high hopes for him," said Burbage. "He was my best student last year."

"Einar is very interested in Muggles," said Minerva.

Professor Burbage smiled approvingly as she and Professor Merrythought took their leave.

When Albus and Minerva were alone, he said, "I'm sorry we didn't quite get our celebration."

"It's all right. This was more important," she answered.

"It really was very kind of you to think about the Muggle-borns, Minerva," he said, looking at her with great affection.

"You know, I hadn't really thought about what the Muggle war must mean to them until now. It was always a sort of abstract idea to me, even when I read my father's letters about his German friends and what they've endured," she said sombrely. "I'm rather ashamed of that now."

She was thinking of the little Ravenclaw and wondered how many other students had lost family in the Muggle conflict. Whatever the number, she realised how little it was acknowledged in the wizarding world.

Albus said, "Our isolation here at Hogwarts can be both blessing and curse. We feel protected from the upheavals of the Muggle world at large, but we are much more intertwined than many of us would care to admit. We cannot...we must not...ignore the wider world. The fact that you seem to understand this, Minerva, despite your pure-blood upbringing, speaks very highly both of your innate intelligence and of your father's teaching. It gives me hope that we may yet prevail over the forces of bigotry and hatred."

Nobody else will ever make me feel this way, Minerva thought. Like nothing truly terrible could happen when I'm with him.

"We still have an hour and a half before dinner," she said. "Plenty of time to finish our tutorial."

A few minutes later, as he undressed her, he told himself, Not now. But soon.