XX: Hiding
Chapter 20 of 141
MMADfanDealing with his own injuries, Albus struggles to help a grievously wounded young Auror and to keep his own dark thoughts at bay.
ReviewedXX: Hiding
Albus spared not another thought for Alastor after he had Portkeyed away, focussing his attention instead on the wounded young Auror who lay, still on his side, on the ground next to him.
"Carson, do you think you'd be all right on your own for a moment or two? I am going back to the jeep and see if there are any salvageable supplies we might use."
"S'fine, Pr'fess'r," Carson slurred.
"I will try not to be very long." Albus rose from the cold hard ground. He had never felt so old in his life. He didn't think there was a part of his body that didn't ache; it was only a matter of the degree of pain. He was rather amazed he hadn't lost consciousness again, as he was fairly certain that he had sustained a bad blow to the front of his head and another, lesser one, to the back of it the latter probably sustained when Carson pushed him to the ground. Albus blinked hard. Foolish boy! If he hadn't done that, the young Auror might very well have been able to walk away from the scene with only a few scratches, instead of the large piece of shrapnel that now protruded so disturbingly from his back and chest.
Albus walked gingerly back toward the charred wreck, alert for any sound that might indicate there was someone nearby. A few years ago, he might have risked capture by the German army in order to get Carson some medical attention, but now, with the war going so badly and supplies too scarce for their own troops, he doubted that any German soldier would look at Carson as anything other than already-dead-but-still-breathing. As for himself, there was a good reason that the Ministry had arranged the emergency Portkey for him. Grindelwald was very aware that Dumbledore was searching for him and undermining him in his attempt to become the sole power in both wizarding and Muggle Europe.
As the war went worse for the Axis powers, Grindelwald became increasingly desperate. He had wizards, usually half-bloods or Muggle-borns, planted in strategic positions in the Nazi apparatus, particularly in the Gestapo and the SS. At first, he had planted some of his most powerful wizards in the Muggle government, but soon came to see that he needed the strength of those wizards working with him, and that he could utilise weaker, less talented wizards as his spies and manipulators.
As the Muggle war went on, Grindelwald lost several of his key infiltrators, whether from Allied attacks or from the paranoia of the Nazi leaders. And his hold on wizarding Europe was declining as Muggle Europe became more chaotic.
Grindelwald blamed Dumbledore for it all. If he were captured by the German army, it would take very little time for Grindelwald to learn of it from his operatives within the Nazi machine. He had never had large numbers of followers, but instead had relied on the fractured German wizarding world, with its archaic boundaries and allegiances, and had exploited the megalomania of the Muggle Hitler. Grindelwald vastly overestimated his ability to manipulate the Muggle world and underestimated to the same degree the European wizarding world's ability to unite against him.
Dumbledore had little hope of finding anything of value left in the still smoking remains of the vehicle, particularly since the German soldiers would have taken anything of value, but still he was going to look. His primary concern at the moment was water. Carson had lost tremendous amounts of blood, and his blood pressure was dangerously low. Perhaps if he could rehydrate him, he might last long enough to . . . what, Dumbledore did not know. If no friendly wizards Apparated in during the next few minutes, he could safely surmise that no rescue would be forthcoming for some time, perhaps several hours. Carson needed a Healer immediately.
As Dumbledore searched the remains of the car, attempting not to look at what was left of Lieutenant Rogers and Private Merrick, he thought again of the way that Carson had pushed him to the ground, saving him from the blast. He still was a "Gryffy-Ravenclaw," as his friends at Hogwarts were wont to call him. And Albus couldn't do anything for him. Even if his magic were at full strength, his knowledge of healing was insufficient to deal with wounds as extensive as the ones Carson had suffered. Although, perhaps, Albus would have been able to treat him sufficiently to give him more time, enough time . . .
Miraculously, Albus thought, he found a flask, a canteen, undamaged and with water in it, on the other side of the road from the vehicle, apparently having been thrown there by the explosion. It was full since they had only left the British camp less than an hour before their journey had been so abruptly interrupted. Albus took two swallows of the water before heading back to the spot in the bushes where he'd left Carson. He could have easily drunk the entire contents of the flask and still wanted more, but Carson's need was greater.
Albus returned, dreading what he might find. But Carson was still breathing, still lying on one side. He knelt beside the young Auror. "Look what I found, Carson, some water. Would you like a drink? I've had mine already," he said softly.
Carson's eyes fluttered open. A Muggle would be dead by now, Albus thought. He didn't know if the relative toughness of the wizarding constitution was a blessing or a curse at the moment.
"Here, now, I'll just help you sit up a bit, that's right." Albus held the flask to the boy's blood-stained lips and dribbled a little in. Carson choked, and blood began to froth around his wound again. "A little more slowly, then. I'm sorry, Carson, truly."
"S'a'right, Pr'fess'r. I'ss good."
Albus slowly dribbled water into the injured Auror's mouth. He seemed to take it well, after the initial choking.
"All right, now, Carson? We can save the rest for later, then." Albus stuffed the flask's strap into his belt and wound it around a few times. He didn't think he could bear having anything slung around his shoulder.
"You should drink . . ." Carson whispered.
"I've had mine. I'm fine. Now we need to find a better place than this. I think I can manage another Disillusionment Charm for you, then I'm going to go see what is nearby, hmm?"
"'Kay."
Albus tucked the coat back around the boy more snugly, then he had a thought. "Carson? You know, I don't think it's wise to remove that bit of metal from your chest it may be the only thing keeping you from bleeding out completely, I don't know. However, I may be able to make you a bit more comfortable by cutting off the ends of the thing. It wouldn't take much more than cutting off that bit of Alastor's tourniquet did. Would you like me to try, my boy?"
"Sure. 'Vry time we move, hurts. Maybe i' wouldn't pull so much . . ." Carson trailed off.
Dumbledore's concern was mounting, which he hadn't thought possible. Carson seemed much weaker than he had even twenty minutes ago. At least he was still conscious. The old wizard gently peeled back the great wool coat.
Starting with the piece protruding from Carson's chest since that was closest, Albus tried a simple Diffindo and succeeded in trimming the metal shard so that only a few millimetres emerged from the young wizard's chest. Albus found the Diffindo had taken more energy to cast than he had anticipated, so on the portion protruding from Carson's back, he decided to use the Amputatio Charm, believing it would require less energy for the same effect, as it was a naturally more powerful charm. As he prepared to cast it, he hoped that the Healers in Amiens were not performing the same Charm on Alastor's mangled leg. Putting that thought out of his mind, Dumbledore cast the Amputatio and was pleased to see the metal end slice cleanly off at just the point he had intended, and yet with less effort than the Diffindo had taken. Albus hadn't had to pay so much attention to his charms work since he was a first-year at Hogwarts.
"There we are, much better. Now, I'll just put the coat back over you, here. And you really should be sitting up a bit, but I don't want to move you just yet. What if I take off my jacket and just fold it under your head and shoulders. Hmm, not ideal, but better. Now don't go anywhere, young man! I'm going to put the Disillusionment Charm on you now, and I don't want to have a hard time finding you when I get back."
Carson looked at his former teacher and smiled wanly. "Thanks, but i'ss cold. You need . . ."
"No, no, I'm fine. I'll be moving, so I won't even notice, I'm sure." What Albus had noticed, however, when he removed his jacket, was that there was definitely something wrong with his shoulder, although he couldn't see any wounds. Perhaps something was broken.
After Disillusioning the young Auror, Dumbledore began walking northeast, carefully noting his path. It wouldn't do to get lost and be unable to find Carson again. Of course, he could always just head south to the road, which was fairly straight, he remembered, and follow it back to the jeep, but he would prefer not to have to approach the road again.
Dumbledore was looking for some kind of natural shelter, if possible, or at least somewhere he could bring Carson and not feel as conspicuous as they were, just yards from the road. He also knew that it would have to be someplace relatively close since he doubted he'd be able to transport Carson very far, even if the young wizard could have tolerated such a trip. It would also make it easier for them to be found by whomever was sent to rescue them, if they didn't go far, he reasoned. They had to be far enough from the road so that no enemy would stumble across them serendipitously, and yet close enough to be found by friends, when they came.
Dumbledore found a likely spot about fifteen minutes after he'd left Carson. Large, flat rocks had been shoved up through the earth, most of them creating only a nuisance for anyone trying to pick their way across country and also, no doubt, to anyone who wanted to farm the land or to lay roads, Dumbledore thought to himself there was one large rock, however, that had been heaved from the earth at an acute angle, and, as luck would have it, a rather sickly-looking tree was growing in front of the gap between the rock and the earth. Investigating more closely, Albus found that the area beneath the rock was filled with dead leaves and small sticks. Using the wand, he cleared some of the debris from between the ground and the overhanging rock. There was less than three feet clearance between the rock at its top-most edge and the dirt beneath it, and the niche only extended a few feet back, but it would have to do. The tree that stood in front of the gap would provide them with some shelter, as well, he reasoned.
Before returning for Carson, Albus drank a little water from the canteen and wondered whether there was a source of water nearby. It seemed likely, and it shouldn't be a problem to purify the water . . . although he wasn't sure of the spell, and he still wasn't able to rely solely on his intent and the power of his magic in order to create the effect he wanted right now. He couldn't even cast nonverbally or wandlessly in his current condition. Sighing as he began walking back toward Carson, Dumbledore decided not to dwell on that particular aspect of their problems yet.
It only took him ten minutes to reach Carson where he'd left him lying in the bushes, almost invisible to the eye, since he was able to walk straight back without pausing to survey the area around him. He was cold, but he had been right when he'd told Carson that he wouldn't notice it since he'd be moving about. He didn't know how long he could take the near-freezing temperature, though, and it would only get worse as it began to get dark.
Kneeling next to the wounded wizard, Albus murmured, "Still with me, Carson, my boy?"
Carson didn't reply, but his eyelids moved, as though he was attempting to open them, and Albus could hear his faint, uneven breathing.
"Don't worry about anything, son. I'm going to move you now. I've found us a slightly better place, not too far from here."
Albus was surprised when Carson opened glazed eyes, and whispered, "No. 'Sokay. Should take your coat. Go. Maybe y' can Apparate later. 'M fine here."
"What? I can't do that, son. I won't be Apparating anywhere for a while, anyway, and I've cleared a place especially for you."
"'S no use, y'know. Jus' a bit o' time . . . dangerous here, go."
"Whatever the use or the amount of time, I cannot leave you here, Carson. And you are right, it is dangerous, which is why you must come with me. I just have a few preparations to make, then we'll be going. Remember what you said to Alastor: don't fight me on this; you won't win, and it will just take valuable time, hmm?" With that, Albus looked around for a likely dead branch. Finding one he approved of, about four feet long, a couple inches in diameter, and not so dry as to be brittle, he went back to where Carson lay.
"Just going to remove the Disillusionment now. And don't be alarmed, but I am going to cut a couple of holes in the top of the coat, but I don't need to remove it from you yet." Albus took the wand and sliced two neat, parallel holes on either side of the coat's yoke, then pushed the branch through them. "All right, now I do need to take the coat off of you."
Albus lay the coat on the ground, the back of it against the dirt. Using the wand again, he cleaned as much of the blood from it as he dared in his current condition, then he turned back to Carson.
"I don't think I can use Mobilicorpus all of the way to the site I found; I'm afraid I'm still not recovered enough; I'm sorry. I do think I could manage it to get you onto the coat, though, if you're willing to risk it."
Carson just grunted slightly without opening his eyes. Albus took that for consent and waved the unfamiliar wand. Carson raised up a few feet off the ground, somewhat tippily, to be sure, but Albus was relieved as he settled the young Auror down on top of the coat as gently as he could. With Carson's head just below the branch Albus had inserted through the top of the coat, Albus buttoned the coat around the boy until he could only see his face. He then retrieved the jacket and sliced off both sleeves. Trying not to expend more of his magic than necessary, Albus attempted to tie the sleeves together, but his left hand was not equal to the task, so once again, Albus waved the wand Alastor had loaned him, first tying the sleeves together, then tying the ends of the sleeves to the branch. When he was finished, he put what was left of the jacket on like a waistcoat, and buttoned it part way up with his good hand.
"Okay, all set now, Carson? We will see how this works."
Slowly, painfully, Albus dragged the semi-conscious Auror along the uneven ground, unable to avoid the tree roots and small rocks that were scattered over their path. He hadn't the breath to apologise, though, and Carson seemed to have slipped into a state in which he didn't notice the further assaults his body was enduring. Half-way to his goal, Albus gave in, and stopped to rest and take a sip of water. He squatted beside Carson.
"Are you still with me, lad?" There was no response but a slightly quickened breath. "I'd give you a little more water, but I'm afraid you might choke on it. Best wait till we get where we're going."
Carson did open his eyes then, but Albus wasn't sure whether the dilated pupils were seeing anything. Wishing that he could use his left arm, as well, Albus stood, took up the jacket sleeves in his right hand again, and once again began the labourious process of pulling his companion across the dirt to the miserable shelter he had found. It took him forty-five more minutes of pulling and heaving, and he needed to rest several times during the last half of the ordeal, but he finally reached the spot he had cleared for himself and Carson.
Each time that Albus had stopped pulling on the make-shift litter and collapsed beside it to catch his breath, he feared he would find that Carson had expired since his last break, but each time, Carson would open his eyes and look at his former Transfiguration teacher, then close them again with a sigh. Now they had finally reached the little hole that Albus had found, and Albus was unsure of what to do next. His head was spinning from exertion, pain, injury, and hunger. He lay next to Carson for a few moments before turning to him.
"Carson, I'm sorry if that was worse than the worst Night Bus trip you could imagine. I feel terribly that I can do so little for you." Albus's exhaustion was gaining on him, and his voice cracked in sorrow.
"'S'okay, really. Better be dying with you, helping me . . ." Carson rasped.
"Ah, my boy!" Tears gathered in Albus's eyes, and he gingerly raised up the young man and held him in his arms, heedless of the pain in his shoulder. He swallowed hard a few times, then gently eased the young man back down. "Now, I know it doesn't look like much, but I think it will do for now, just until we're found. It'll take a bit of doing to get you in there, I'm afraid, but you've been very brave, and it won't be as bad as the trip was," said Albus as he removed the branch from the holes in the coat.
Resettling Carson on the coat, Albus tugged and pushed until he managed to get Carson settled into the hole beneath the large rock. He would have tried Mobilicorpus again, but between his exhaustion and the fine co-ordination it would take not to hit Carson against the tree or the rock, he couldn't risk it.
"I'm just going to rest a few minutes, right here next to you, my boy. It'll be nice and warm for you that way. Then, in a bit, I'm going to go and make sure we didn't leave much of a trail. We don't want the wrong people to find us, now, do we?"
"Take my . . . sidearm, sir . . . dangerous."
"Yes, they are dangerous, which is why I'm leaving it with you, my boy. I doubt I could use it without hurting someone!"
Somehow, the idea of shooting someone, even someone who was shooting at him, was wholly repugnant to Albus. It was fine for Muggles, he supposed, but he never wanted to kill a Muggle, even with a Muggle weapon, if he didn't have to. With a wand, you could Stun someone, or Petrify them. You didn't have to shoot them and kill them so they couldn't get back up and shoot at you again.
Albus lay beside Carson a scant five minutes before forcing himself out of the hole and back toward their original position. There was no missing the path they had made, Albus thought. When he reached the bushes where the three sham British soldiers had sheltered as the very real German soldiers had examined the remains of the jeep, Albus took out the wand. Wishing again for his own, he began to clear the ground, making it appear untouched by anything but wind and rain. He thought for a moment about eliminating their scent, as well, thinking of the large Muggle dogs that might hunt them down, but then he decided against it. Eliminating their scent altogether would be nigh on impossible for him now, anyway, and whatever he could manage would only drain his magic further. Best to trust to luck on this, Albus thought.
Twenty minutes after erasing the physical evidence of the path they'd taken away from the wreckage, Albus returned to find Carson awake. He was surprised, and pleased. He scootched into the opening to lay beside his former student. He used Alastor's wand, somewhat awkwardly in that small space, to Summon some dry leaves to settle behind him, then he cast a light Warming Charm, before rolling onto his right side and lying to face the young man next to him.
"I've done what I could. I didn't completely eliminate our trail, but I think it's enough, at least, to fool the Muggles. Would you like some water now?"
"Yes, please," Carson whispered. "Very dry, sir."
"Now, none of that 'sir' business. We aren't in the British Army, nor with anyone who thinks we are," said Albus as he carefully removed the flask from where it hung from his belt, wishing he'd thought to do so before lying down on his one good arm. "And I'm not your teacher, anymore, either."
"'Kay, sir." Carson smiled slightly.
"You are incorrigible, you know that?" Albus said with as much of a grin as he could muster, and tipping some water into the young man's mouth.
"Mmm, 's good, sir. Thanks."
"You're welcome. I wish I had something to give you to eat, but I'm afraid I expected to be back in Amiens for elevenses, and didn't bring anything with me."
"Why'd'n't you say so? I have choc'let. Pro'ly melted. Some in my left jacket pocket, 'n' some in my right trouser pocket. 'M not hungry, but you eat some. 'S Honeydukes'. Wrapped it up in parchment so Muggles w'dn't wonder." After this long speech, Carson closed his eyes, breathing shallowly.
"Thank you, but you must have some, too." Albus felt through the pockets that Carson had indicated and found the sweets. As much as he wanted some his mouth began watering as soon as he unwrapped the first piece of dark chocolate he broke off a small piece and said, "Here, now, my boy, open your mouth. Just let it sit there and melt on your tongue. That's right. It didn't melt much; I suppose the cold weather is good for something."
Albus unwrapped a piece that had been in the young Auror's trouser pocket. It was more melted than the ones from his jacket, so Albus raised it to his mouth and ate it right from the parchment, licking up the last remnants hungrily.
"Ready for more yet?"
"No, you save it. Not hungry, really." Although he spoke, Carson kept his eyes closed.
"Just a bit more, for me, Carson." Albus broke off another small piece of the chocolate and put it in the injured wizard's mouth. "How's that taste?"
"Fine, sir. Good." Carson turned his head to look at his former teacher. "It's all right, Professor," he whispered, clearly but faintly. "You don't need to try so hard. I know . . ."
"What, my boy? What do you know?" Albus was feeling somewhat better; lying in that small hole in the earth, just inches from his former student, he was beginning to get a little warmer, and the chocolate was beginning to work its magic, as well.
"I know I'm probably not . . . going to make it home . . . this time, not unless . . . a Healer comes out of the bushes. 'S'okay, though. I . . . I think I did . . . what I was s'posed to. I'm okay." Carson tried to smile at Albus.
"It might not be long, Carson. Just hold on, all right? Don't despair, lad."
"'M not despairing, sir. 'S'okay, really. Just wish . . . I could say good-bye, 's'all. I never wrote one of those letters, y'know the kind, sir? Thought it might be . . . bad luck." Carson grinned, and Albus could see the Gryffy-Ravenclaw seeker beneath the blood and dirt.
"I still have your biro and the paper. Just give me a moment." Albus squirmed about in the little niche, finally pushing himself partly out of it and sitting up so that he could pull out the paper and pen and have room to write. He cast another Warming Charm on the air about Carson, then said, "Set, my boy? I've got the paper out, just tell me what you want to say, and I'll write it. To your mother and father, then?"
"Yes, mum and da, I always call them."
"All right, then, 'Dear Mum and Da," began Albus, looking up inquisitively at Carson. "That's a start. What do you want to say to them?"
Carson began dictating his letter to Albus, stopping to gasp for breath every few seconds. When he was done, Albus asked if he'd like him to read it back to him, to see if he wanted to add anything, and Carson nodded slightly, still trying to catch his breath.
"Dear Mum and Da,
"I'm here with Professor Dumbledore, who's writing this for me. He's taking very good care of me, just like always. He's worked hard to make me comfortable, and I've had chocolate, so I'm okay.
"I know when you get this letter, you'll be sad, but don't be too sad, because I think I've done a good thing or two, and I've had great fun doing it. Today hasn't been as much fun as usual, but I think it is all worth it, anyway.
"I know you won't want Aiden to join the Aurors after this, but you should let him if he wants, Mum. I never would have been able to do so much good doing anything else, I know it. And Aiden's more co-ordinated than I am, so maybe he could jump out of the way of exploding cars faster than I could. That's a joke. Please laugh.
"A friend of mine got hurt in this accident, too. His name is Alastor Moody. If you can find out where he is, would you visit him for me? Bring him a bottle of Old Ogden's. I always told him he was too young for it, but maybe he isn't after this. Tell him it's from me.
"I love you and Aiden and Rory, and I'll miss you, too, but maybe I'll get to see Gram and listen to her stories again.
"Until I see you again,
"Carson"
By the time Albus had finished re-reading the letter to Carson, tears were rolling down his cheeks. He thought absently that he shouldn't cry because it might upset Carson; besides, he already had a miserable headache.
"Is that what you wanted to say, Carson, my boy?"
"Yes," Carson breathed. The rasping in his chest had become worse, and dictating the letter seemed to have taken his last good breath. "Ta, sir."
"I was happy to do it for you, Carson. Would you like more water? There's a bit left."
Carson shook his head weakly, and opened his eyes. "One more."
"One more what, son? Piece of chocolate?"
"No, letter."
"All right," Albus said, pulling the last unused sheet of paper out and preparing to write. He'd have to do something about the bloodstains on the paper; they would upset the recipients beyond what the letter would already do. "Who should I address this one to?"
"'Nerva."
"I'm sorry, I didn't quite understand." Had he said "Minerva"? Albus wondered.
"Minerva."
"All right, then, 'Dear Minerva,'" Albus began.
"No, 'My Fair Minerva,' please." Carson's breath was coming in short gasps.
"'My Fair Minerva,' then. What next?"
"Thank you for . . . spending time . . . with me. 'Specially in London. Very nice . . . Good person, Minerva . . . Hope you find him. I'll see Gram soon and ask her."
"I wasn't sure of everything you said, Carson, but how's this:
"My Fair Minerva,
"Thank you for spending time with me, especially in London. It was very nice to see you there. You are a good person, Minerva.
"Then I wasn't sure what you meant. I thought you said something about 'finding him,' and then something about your Gram."
Carson tried to lick his lips. Albus leaned over and gave him a dribble of water. Carson began again, then stumbled, started again, and finally stopped altogether, closing his eyes. Finally, he said, "Don't know what to say; it was happy, being with her."
"Is she your girlfriend, then, son?"
"No . . . wished she was. But . . . she's meant for . . . someone else. Still want her to know . . . how lucky I was to know her."
"All right then, why don't I try to put that down for you, and you can let me know if I got it right do you want that bit about your Gram in there, too?" At Carson's weak nod, Albus began to write. When he was finished, he asked, "Carson, are you awake?"
Carson's eyes opened, then closed.
"Would you like me to read what I've written for you?"
Carson nodded again. "One more thing . . . please write it for me," Carson whispered, his breathing laboured, his eyes glassy.
"Anything, son."
"Tell her . . . she must . . . look after you . . . when she gets the letter . . . you'll feel bad about it."
"All right." Albus swallowed hard and did as he had promised, then finished the letter and read it back to Carson:
"My Fair Minerva,
"Thank you for spending time with me, especially in London. It was very nice to see you there.
"You are a good person, Minerva, and I am thankful I was able to know you. When I was with you, I was more myself than I am with anyone else. Time spent with you always left me feeling warm and good.
"You are meant for someone special, Minerva. I hope you find him. I will see my Gram soon, and I will ask her.
"Please take care of Professor Dumbledore for me when you see him. He will feel responsible for what has happened.
"Thank you, my Fair Minerva,
"Love always,
"Carson."
Albus cleared his throat. "How's that, Carson?"
"Perfect. You know . . . how . . . I felt. Thank you. Gotta give it . . . to 'r y'rself . . . be upset."
"All right, I'll do that for you. Do you just want to lie quietly now, my boy? Would you like more chocolate?"
"No chocolate. Talk a while. Before I can't anymore." Carson managed a weak smile, but his eyes were partially closed. Albus reached out and laid his hand against his cheek. The young Auror had become cold despite the Warming Charms and the extra coat.
"All right, then. Umm," Albus, who had been able to keep up inane prattle earlier in his effort to cheer Carson, felt lost for words. "Minerva. You saw each other in London, then?"
"Yeah . . . hates her job." Carson coughed weakly. "Stuck with . . . parchments . . . no magic at all . . . A waste . . ."
"She's just doing desk work?" Albus asked, puzzled. He had asked that she be kept out of any dangerous jobs, but he hadn't realised that she wasn't using any of her skills. He'd been told she was in the Charms Office of the War Division, and he hadn't inquired further. And the few times they had seen each other in London, she hadn't mentioned her job to him at all, except to say that it was fine.
"Mmm . . . All day . . . Ev'ry day . . . Parchment here . . . Parchment there . . . She's a good one . . . She keeps at it." Carson's breath was coming hard, now. "Tell me . . . a story . . ."
"Let me think," Albus said, laying back down beside the boy. "How about a story about Minerva, then? I'm sure she won't mind." Albus recounted how he had taken Minerva's Charmed book from her during the Gryffindor Tea and feigned displeasure in order to have her show him how she'd Transfigured it.
"'At's our . . . Minerva . . . right, Professor?"
Albus spoke a bit longer, telling about the last Ravenclaw Quidditch match; he couldn't see Carson well in the gloom beneath the rock, but he could feel the young wizard's breath grow shallower. "Carson, are you awake? Still with me?"
"Mmm. 'Sokay, I'm going to go . . . have that drink . . . with Merrick . . . now. 'N' see my Gram. She'll know . . . her true love . . ."
"Carson, Carson, stay with me, son!"
"Don't worry . . . 'bout me. 'S'alright."
"I'm just selfish, Carson. You are right. It is all right. You go on and rest now, and, when you're ready, you go off and meet your friend for that drink, and visit with your Gram, and keep a stool warm for me. All right, son?"
"Mmm. Good. See'em soon . . . Don't worry."
For another hour, Albus lay there beside his former student, trying to keep him warm. Carson never spoke again, and, as his breathing changed, Albus knew he'd lost all awareness of the world around him and of his own hurts and pains. When finally Carson sighed and did not breathe again, Albus allowed himself to weep for the boy and for himself and his weakness. A few minutes later, Albus pushed himself from the small shelter, unwilling to lay there beside the remains of the young wizard who had saved his life just hours before.
Leaning back against the rock, he ate more chocolate and became very aware that, although it was unlikely that he would die of his wounds any time soon, he was growing physically weaker. Adrenalin and necessity had pushed him to do what he would have thought impossible in his current condition, had anyone asked him about it before today.
The sun would be setting soon, and help might arrive with the dark. Or the soldiers could have reported what they had seen to the wrong person, someone who might realise that there had been wizards present at that explosion. He wished again that he had been able to remove all traces of their blood and their tracks before the soldiers had arrived. It was clear that no other vehicle had been there to transport any other victims from the site of the explosion. There was nothing that he could do about it now.
He flicked his borrowed wand experimentally. Still lacklustre results. He couldn't Apparate anywhere. He had to stay here. Moving back around the rock to where Carson's body lay still, as if already in its grave, Albus took his overcoat and put it back on, heedless of the blood and gore that stained it inside and out. Then, drawing on all of his magical reserve, he waved his wand. In a moment, the body before him was Transfigured into a moderately-sized log. They could bring him back to England Ireland, Albus corrected himself for burial, reversing the Transfiguration and cleaning up the body before delivering it to his family.
Albus crawled back into the little hole, Summoned some dry leaves to cover him, and wasn't surprised when only a few responded. He then ate one more bit of Carson's chocolate, drank the last of the water, and lay back, hoping that he could keep himself awake and warm now that there was no one else there needing his attention.
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Latest 25 Reviews for Resolving a Misunderstanding
954 Reviews | 6.45/10 Average
Okay...I think it's time for a Gertrude and Malcolm story. If you got any ideas like the proposal or her pregnancy I'm all ears. I've read this story 100 times but just wanted to say that this story is great every single time I read it, it always feels like my first time.
I have a love hate relationship with this fic. I do not enjoy stories where people spend time angsting when they could just tell each other how they feel and be done with it, no matter how it plays out. I enjoyed this because of Quin. If you hadn't had he or Getrude, this story wouldn't have worked for me. The witty dialogue is what kept me interested to the end. Well done with your OCs.
Review in progress... :-)
Putting myself in Albus's shoes - from his vantage point of what had played out between them - I can very well imagine how awfully guilty he must have felt, how repulsed by his own behaviour, how defeated, with no option but to assume things were over. Really sad and horrible, for him.
But then Gertrude...oh, how I love that woman! Her questioning of Albus, her coclusions: brilliant! Utterly love that small scene! :-)
Forgot to rate...
Must have been very upsetting, embarrassing and worrying for Albus indeed, to have found a young woman attractive for a few moments, only to find out that she's actually his student. I can so imagine how he must have been shocked and appalled by himself.
I loved seeing these two lively, bright and, both of them, determined and decisive girls: Melina seeing the need to educate on healing spells, before even being allowed to hold a wand; and Minerva, trying to take matters in hand concerning Albus's health as well as the running of Murdoch's household. Yet, I always find Melina bordering on overpowering and you already show that here, in her as a young girl.
"And what a pity we can’t hold hands as innocently as Melina does." I love this observation, which, I'd say, actually counts for all of us.
You made me realize it's a bit sad, isn't it? Holding hands is comforting and gives a sense of closeness, but once you're above a certain age (and experience?), there's just no way the innocence will ever come back, unless it's holding hands with a small child. Which means that I, and most likely by far the most of us, hardly ever hold hands anymore. Alas.
Very nice, serious chapter and probably decisive in Albus's later 'hesitations' towards Minerva. Right???
Soap in the eyes indeed! Malcolm is such a twit ... its hard not to like him at least a little ... still ... I think Gertrude is far too big a catch for the likes of this McGonagall ... *snorts*
Forgive me Madam Raven ... I'm bound to get uppity with at least one of your characters.
Even with my aggravation, I did enjoy Malcolm and Gertie's banter.
Response from MMADfan (Author of Resolving a Misunderstanding)
Awww, you'd like Gertrude to be single and still all shades of mourning? Poor Malcolm! He adores her, you know! :-) ;-) He also amuses her & brings her some vitality. Glad you enjoyed their banter! :-)
Response from Fishy (Reviewer)
I know I know ... and you know why, of course ... his arrogance and swagger embarrass me because .... yes ... exactly ... reminds me of a younger version of ... someone foolish ... not saying whoooooo ... *whistles innocently*
And of course we can't have Gertie in all shades of black forever! She needs her lime green suits - just like in this chapter - she redresses in three shades of ... GREEN! Gertrude Spring! Seee! That's where I got the lime green from! *grins*
That and I would want her to find joyous love ... I love Gertie too much not to. Even if it has to be Malcolm. *grins*
Response from MMADfan (Author of Resolving a Misunderstanding)
There's a place in life for people who are a bit brash. Aside from their entertainment value! haha! But don't be down on those characteristics of yourself. You've noted yourself that you've learned to tone down a bit and not just say whatever pops into your head! :-)Yep, Malcolm got her to wear green, green, and green, and look all nice and cheerful. I was pretty sure you were remembering her post-Malcolm greenness when you mentioned the lime green suit. hee!
Response from Fishy (Reviewer)
I will share something simple I have learned. Humility is a virtue and pride is a liability. *nods* And I has lots more liabilities than virtues, me thinks.
I so love this chapter. The dragon riding is just so incredible ... and then the duel is ABSOLUTELY awesome! I love the giant field of sunflowers and the fireball - aka - fire don't hurt phoenixes - snap you're stunned, Buddy bit.
Give me a Madam!
Give me a Raven!
Ravenclaw's Madam Raven!
Response from Fishy (Reviewer)
Holy COW! Bloo knows English!
Dragons Dragons Dragons!
Response from MMADfan (Author of Resolving a Misunderstanding)
It was a stunner to get any review from Bloo that didn't consist of "Cheers for posting." It became so tiresome to keep opening TPP review alerts, go to the review page, and discover yet another of the exact same three words. I didn't want to turn off alerts altogether because I was still getting a lot of real reviews for fics that were still WIPs at the time.I'm glad you enjoyed the dragon riding and the "whoops, you're Stunned!" at the end. :-)Thanks!
Madam Raven, remind me which house Siofre was sorted into?
Response from MMADfan (Author of Resolving a Misunderstanding)
She's Ravenclaw. And Lydia is Slytherin. Siofre's first husband - Merwyn's father - was Gryffindor, and her second husband Herbert was Hufflepuff.
Response from Fishy (Reviewer)
I thought she was Ravenclaw. Still no idea who Lydia is ... I know her daughter is Maisy, or Maise or something like that.
Forgive me, I get all the McGonagalls and their affiliates, across yours, mine and Squibby's universes confused.
Response from MMADfan (Author of Resolving a Misunderstanding)
Lydia's her sister-in-law, remember? Murdoch Tyree's wife. She's a major CSG character. (I thought you were reading that at one point, but I must have misremembered.)
Response from Fishy (Reviewer)
No I was reading it (you are correct), but in the last six months I've lost about 40 IQ points and have forgotten nearly everything I used to know ... so I am behind on RaM-verse extensions. Bad me ...
*sighs* Albus ... Albus ... Albus ... most romantic man to ever grace .... fiction. If only men could be so romantic anymore. That poem is beautiful ... I am guessing, since there are no foot-notes, that it is one of your originals?
Response from MMADfan (Author of Resolving a Misunderstanding)
Yep, Albus and I wrote that way early in the story. I'm not much of a poet, but I thought it felt and sounded like a poem that Albus would write.
*snip*
“Ah, well, it’s best not to rush things. Enjoy it, Minerva, savour it. He’s likely nervous, as well. The age difference is probably causing him far more concern than it is you. His perspective is different from yours, and as I said when you were here on Friday, he is from a different time and place. He also has had experiences in his life that you and I, fortunately, have been spared, and that I can only dimly imagine.”
*snip*
I really like that. That shows uncommon wisdom.
Response from Fishy (Reviewer)
*snip*
“No, simply . . . odd, disorienting, I suppose,” Albus replied, though Minerva thought that he did look tired and drawn. “It was so long ago, it is almost like remembering a dream. Collum was actually almost five years younger than I, in Aberforth’s year, but he was in my House, and I was also good friends with Perseus. Perseus and Crispinian were cousins of some sort, and Crispy was great friends with Collum, who was only a couple years younger than he. Anyway, for some reason – I don’t remember why, now – we were all here for a few days that summer after my NEWTs. I had just married, and I remember that Dervilia persuaded me that we should accept the invitation because I would be beginning my apprenticeship soon and would have much less time for my friends. I hadn’t been inclined to, wanting to spend the time with her, and feeling that they were all still children while I was a married man – at all of eighteen! But we actually had a good time. I remember that the girls – Siofre and Gwyn – visited once for the day and gave Dervilia some relief from our masculine company.” Now Minerva was beginning to feel peculiar. Gwynllian and Siofre, the “girls,” were her grandmothers. Perseus was Gwynllian’s brother, and Crispinian was her other grandfather. For a dizzying moment, Minerva felt as though she had stepped back in time, to a point when her Great-uncle Perseus was just a boy, friends with Crispinian, not knowing that Crispinian would marry his sister, Gwyn, nor that Collum would marry Siofre and die in an accident when his son, Merwyn, was just a baby. And Albus and Dervilia . . . that their happiness would be very short-lived.
*snip*
Woah ... yeah that would make me uncomfortable as well ... that is ... well that is just ... well ... my head would be swimming if I were Minerva.
Response from MMADfan (Author of Resolving a Misunderstanding)
Yes, it is dizzying for Minerva, and it gives her an appreciation for some of the points her mother made, and for how and why Albus would not be completely comfortable yet.
*snip*
“Hold still, Merwyn! Your collar is all askew here,” Egeria said with slight impatience.“Don’t see why we have to get all dressed up,” Merwyn grumbled. “I thought what I was wearing this morning was perfectly acceptable.” “Those old brown robes make you look like Friar Tuck,” Egeria grumbled back.“They do not! Besides, I thought you liked my brown robes. That’s what you said the last time I wore them!” “No, it isn’t. I said I liked taking them off of you. There is a difference,” Egeria said with a smile. She patted his tummy and added, “And you are right, you don’t look like Friar Tuck. You have a much nicer figure – though heaven only knows why, when you sit behind your desk all day or in the library with your feet up.”
*snip*
Tee hee hee ... now Madam Raven, don't take my head off here, as you know I tend to picture your characters in my mind regardless of how you describe him ... but I thought you'd like to know how I picture Merwyn ... and here I see that I was wrong.
I picture Merwyn of average height, black hair that is now full of silver and white, and a very round figure ... probably from all that sitting behind his desk.
Response from Fishy (Reviewer)
*snip*
Minerva laughed. “Fly without a broom? No, haven’t mastered that, wouldn’t try. It’s not possible.”It was Albus’s turn to laugh. “Not impossible, merely very rare in this part of the world. And the Ministry would like to keep it that way. Hard to regulate that sort of thing. Most witches and wizards couldn’t accomplish it, anyway.”Minerva stopped and looked back at him. “You are joking, aren’t you?” “Not at all. I rarely do it, myself, although when I was with Master Nyima, I became quite adept. I would sometimes fly with Mother Dragon. I think that is one reason she took a liking for me, actually.”Minerva looked at him a moment, digesting this information, then she shook her head and continued the climb. Well, she hadn’t believed it was possible to become as completely invisible as Albus could, either. In fact, at the time, she had actually thought that she had always believed becoming invisible was as impossible as flight without a Charmed object. Apparently, it was, though not the way that she had believed. She should never underestimate Albus Dumbledore.
*snip*
*grins* I like this.
See ... we HP fans know that Dumbledore is brilliant and amazingly powerful ... but just to say it, well its a bit of a let-down, and harder to take as fact. But showing it ... especially in a sideways manner such as this ... an off-handed type of author's compliment, well that seems to me, to be perfection. I can truly appreciate his amazing talents here ... especially considering that Minerva (who is particularly powerful and talented) is amazed.
Response from MMADfan (Author of Resolving a Misunderstanding)
I'm glad you liked that. :-)I remember knowing that I would slip that in way back when I wrote the chapter where Dumbledore invisibly observes Minerva doing her tutoring session, and I always envisioned it happening at her family home -- I'd originally been going to have him actually fly, but without a good reason, it would have felt too stilted, especially since his Animagus form flies, so that would be more natural.
*shakes head* Malcolm, Malcolm, Malcolm ... there is such a thing as tact .... *groans* sadly .... I think I get most frustrated with Malcolm because he reminds me of myself ... er ... I should clarify, my younger self, who was obnoxiously blunt and said what ever came to my mind ... and I likely came off as gruff and uncouth as Malcolm does ... so its an annoying reminder of just how ungracious I can be. *grumbles*
Response from MMADfan (Author of Resolving a Misunderstanding)
He doesn't always employ his internal censor, and he doesn't always have the best way of putting things, but his heart's usually in the right place. And when he wants to, when he puts his mind to it, he can be tactful. But that takes work for him!
Response from Fishy (Reviewer)
Sounds like someone I know ... *groans* Another reminder for me. I guess some of us are just ungifted with the 'gracious' gene.
Response from MMADfan (Author of Resolving a Misunderstanding)
He doesn't always employ his internal censor, and he doesn't always have the best way of putting things, but his heart's usually in the right place. And when he wants to, when he puts his mind to it, he can be tactful. But that takes work for him!
Response from Fishy (Reviewer)
Sounds like someone I know ... *groans* Another reminder for me. I guess some of us are just ungifted with the 'gracious' gene.
FINALLY! Hooray for Quin and Wilspy ... *steals Wilspy and takes her to the island where she's stashed Gertrude*
I thought about stealing Quin but ... I am on this celibacy kick ...
Response from MMADfan (Author of Resolving a Misunderstanding)
Oooohhhhh noooooes! *MMADfan enlists Quin to help find and steal back Wilspy and Gertrude*
Response from Fishy (Reviewer)
Response from MMADfan (Author of Resolving a Misunderstanding)
*Quin turns on the charm , turning
Response from MMADfan (Author of Resolving a Misunderstanding)
's celibate knees to jelly so she can't chase after MMADfan as she steal back Wilspy and Gertrude*
Response from Fishy (Reviewer)
*floats like a jellyfish (uber slow) across the water while she sees Quin, Gertrude and Wilspy sail off on the boat. Is quite sure Wilspy and Gertrude are crying and waving in mourning as Quin steals them both from the enchanted island*
Response from MMADfan (Author of Resolving a Misunderstanding)
Heheheh!!
Response from Fishy (Reviewer)
Its an island enchanted to have no mosquitos, sand flies, fire ants or thorny trees/bushes but lots of beautiful fish, both shell and fin, and a huge variety of fruit trees and veggies year round, and maintains a perfect temperature and humidity level ... *sighs*
Response from MMADfan (Author of Resolving a Misunderstanding)
I wanna go there!
Response from Fishy (Reviewer)
Me too!
This is the chapter that I want to throttle Minerva and grant Quin sainthood ... honestly ... what she does to that poor man ...
Response from MMADfan (Author of Resolving a Misunderstanding)
I know. Minerva was not at her best there, was she? Poor Quin!
*snip*
Finally, at midnight, he went down to his office and opened the cupboard in which he kept his Charmed parchments. He rarely used them, and he hesitated to now. It would be prying . . . it would be for his own personal gain, not for school business. But he cast the necessary spells, and the results were clear and easy to read, there were so few people in the castle. Johannes was in his bedroom in Ravenclaw Tower. Gertrude and Malcolm . . . were both together. In her rooms. In her bedroom, in fact. Well, that answered one question that he hadn’t wished to ask. Johannes’s name was steady, but Gertrude’s and Malcolm’s names seemed to pulse, becoming thicker and bolder, then returning to the normal script. He could imagine what that might mean, and he averted his eyes. But Minerva’s name was not on the list. There was Fawkes listed. For some reason, he was perched in the Astronomy Tower. But no other being or creature was named. Albus still hadn’t set the wards properly to detect the ghosts. It had been a low priority, and he had never managed to get to it.
*snip*
OOOOOOOOOooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhh, so THAT's how the Mara's Map was created! Or at least, that is one way ... nice little intry there, Madam Raven!
Response from MMADfan (Author of Resolving a Misunderstanding)
Yes, the magic that allows those Charmed parchments is the magic that was tapped into to create the Marauders' map. It's part of the magic that was being tested and fixed that summer when Minerva helped with the wards, changing back and forth into her Tabby self to see whether the wards detected her identity when she turned into her Animagus form -- the wards had been so damaged that they no longer detected someone who was in Animagus form.Many years later, this became important for seeing Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black on the map. Also, by the time that he enlisted Minerva's help, Dumbledore had already fixed the ward that detected the true identity of someone who was disguised using Polyjuice -- meaning that during GoF, Potter saw that B. Crouch was searching Snape's office. Of course, he thought that it was B. Crouch senior, not the crazy son who had supposedly died in Azkaban. The fake Moody (Barty Crouch) took the map from Harry so that Harry wouldn't notice that Moody never left his office (where he was stuck in the trunk), and that where Moody apparently was, Crouch actually was.
*snip*
“I thought I was being seduced, but it has been a while . . . I may have been wrong,” Gertrude answered, her breath warm upon his face.
*snip*
I just love her wit.
Response from MMADfan (Author of Resolving a Misunderstanding)
She is one sharp Slytherin, and she loves answering a question at a different level than it was being asked. :-)
*snip*
“Yes, you mentioned that at the party. You are aware of how Gertrude’s husband died, though?” Minerva asked.
*snip*
What the hell does that have to do with anything?
Goodness - Minerva has a serious voyeur problem, doesn't she? Naughty!
Response from MMADfan (Author of Resolving a Misunderstanding)
She's concerned that Malcolm might bring up a sensitive subject in an inappropriate way, for one, but mostly, she's worried that Malcolm might just be in it for the fun and that Gertrude is vulnerable if he just up and leaves. Gertrude hasn't formed any other attachment since the trauma of having her husband killed in such a gruesome manner, as far as Minerva knows, so Minerva's worred that Gertrude is opening herself up in a rare manner and that her brother might just be too cavalier with her feelings. (I'd have to reread the section, but that's what I remember o fher motivation.)I'm sure Minerva wishes she had better timing! lol!
Response from Fishy (Reviewer)
As I continued to read, Minerva's concern was apparent, as usual, in my typical Gryffie fashion - we leap before we look ... or rather, we shoot our mouths off before we have all the facts. *sighs*
Oh hooooo! Malcolm may think he doesn't want to become too ... attached ... but his heroic defense of 'good' Slytherins sure tells me something or other about a recent acquaintance of his.
Response from MMADfan (Author of Resolving a Misunderstanding)
Yes, he is definitely defensive here! Seems he is becoming more than a little attached to a certain Slytherin!
I so love Gertrude. I want a Gertrude in my life! *steals Gertrude and runs away*
Response from MMADfan (Author of Resolving a Misunderstanding)
*MMADfan puts on her running shoes and jogs after
Response from MMADfan (Author of Resolving a Misunderstanding)
*
Response from Fishy (Reviewer)
*snip*
“It was a long time ago, as I said, that it all began. When I was a child, really, I suppose. I would like to be able to say with some modesty that my time as a student was unremarkable, but it was not. I excelled at whatever I put my hand, mind, and magic to. I was eager to learn, even more eager than you were – indeed, the Sorting Hat very nearly put me in Ravenclaw, but it decided, in the end, that my nature and my need were Gryffindor. “I chafed at what I saw were restrictions on me and my progress. I found most of my teachers wanting, and believed them dull and unimaginative. Nonetheless, I wanted to please them, and please them I usually did. But I pushed every boundary and stretched it. If it weren’t for the guidance and firm hand of Professor Futhark, I might have become even more insufferable than I no doubt was. But despite my general attitude, I found myself with friends of all types, and, with a rather foolish and overblown sense of my own importance, I came to believe myself not only advanced academically but also better than my peers and their natural leader. And, I suppose, I was – academically advanced and a leader, not better than they,” he clarified.
*snip*
I really like this ... it sounds very Albus to me ... save for the Ravenclaw bit *grins* but sometimes you just gotta tout yer house, right?
Response from MMADfan (Author of Resolving a Misunderstanding)
I think that sometimes, it's really clear that there's one House that a witch or wizard belongs in, and other times, there are others that would suit, too. I think Albus could have fit in with Ravenclaw -- he certainly pursued knowledge, both Light and Dark -- but there were bits of his personality that drove him that were Gryffindor that shaped his intellect and his use of it. (I can't have written that part of the monologue and really substituted "Hufflepuff" -- though I think that with a few tweaks to the text, Slytherin could have been included as an option -- he is a wily wizard, after all!)I'm glad you like it. It's one of the reasons that I think this section, these chapters, work better as a first-person recounting than as I had originally written it -- in the third person as a kind of flashback. We get to see Albus's personality then and now, and his own take on his character as a teen and young man, and how it developed.
*snip*
“Not a bit of trouble, my dear man, not a bit of it! A friend of the Headmaster’s is a friend of mine, I’d like to think! And dear Gertrude, of course.” He winked at Quin. “She’s quite the witch, isn’t she? Knew each other as students of course. Had a bit of a crush on me at the time, I think.”
*snip*
I have to laugh at this ... I just do ... he's a younger and less wise Slughorn than the Sluggy I know from HBP, so it does make sense that he'd brag a bit louder and exaggerate a bit stronger ... but saying that of one's co-worker - wow! That takes some ... something ...
You know I have a soft spot for Slughorn I think it would be fun to pick his brain and study him ... especially try to determine what conditions cause him to puff out his chest the most ... call me weird.
I also love any and all descriptions of the various houses, since we only see two of them in the movies - Slytherin and Gryffindor ... never did get a chance to see Ravenclaw's or Hufflepuff's ... shame really. I'd love to see the Badger room, all decked out in black and yellow - I think I'd feel like I was snug inside a giant bee hive! Oh and I would imagine there would be plenty of honey.
Response from MMADfan (Author of Resolving a Misunderstanding)
Yes, Sluggy's sense of grandiosity is quite at its peak here. And it's not yet been burst by the emergence of the Slytherin "Death Eater sect" led by one of his former star pupils. So he's amiably pompous, tries a bit too hard to chum-up to Quin, and yet there is a part of him that genuinely likes other people (in my view) and simply wants them to like him in return. I really enjoyed envisioning the Slytherin dorms and some of the more decent Slytherins in "The Sorting of Susie Sefton." It was fun to look at them from a different POV than we had in the books, and yet try to make it all still recognizably Slytherin.It would be neat to experience Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. And I wonder if Hufflepuff would be all honey with no stings attached ...
*snip*
“It is worth far more than that, Horace, as you know,” Gertrude said, “and even if you offered what it might fetch on the open market, you know the Headmaster still wouldn’t part with it. Your grumbling about it every time he generously chooses to share it is most unseemly and detracts from our enjoyment.”
*snip*
HAHAHAHAHA! Stop complainin and enjoy the bloody mead, yeh buggar!
I do like this chapter, I love just the idea that being a head of house, or even just a teacher, creates some sort of bond, or weave, in the magical wards and structure of the castle. And its nice to see the faculty supporting each other.
Response from Fishy (Reviewer)
Oh and, I also love lore with the Sorting Hat - for some reason I find that 'character' of Rowling's to be fascinating.
Response from MMADfan (Author of Resolving a Misunderstanding)
I like to imagine that each teacher in the history of Hogwarts, especially Heads of Houses and Headmasters/mistresses, leave some of themselves, some of their magic, in the wards, helping to strengthen the school long after they're gone. That would be a heritage.The Sorting Hat is fascinating, and I think it is intriguing to contemplate whether it's sentient or not, and what its existence says about sentience, at least in the HP/Hogwarts universe.
*snip*
Besides, when I first began teaching, it wasn’t long after Reginald died. It didn’t feel as though it had been long, anyway. I was not particularly concerned with what I looked like. It became a habit. And now I’m too old to be worried about such things.”
*snip*
Oh how I can relate to that!
Response from MMADfan (Author of Resolving a Misunderstanding)
Yeah, I think Gertrude is quite human here. But it's interesting how when Malcolm comes into her life, she begins to take an interest in her clothes again! Or at least, they reflect a cheerier self. :-)
*snip*
Albus smiled and sliced them each a piece. The cake itself was chocolate, and it was filled with raspberries and thick whipped cream. There was more whipped cream, Minerva thought, than cake. The icing was chocolate, one layer of an almost brittle icing, then a softer chocolate butter cream over that in decorative curlicues and rosettes. Whole raspberries topped it all off.
*snip*
GAH! I want a cake like that for my birthday - ANY birthday!
Response from MMADfan (Author of Resolving a Misunderstanding)
Me too!
*snip*
“All right. Are you finished, then? Would you like more wine? I have another bottle – ”Albus laughed. “Are you getting me in practice for your brothers?”Minerva smiled. “I don’t think I could drink any more, either, but I thought I would offer. We can have some cognac with our dessert.”Albus pushed back from the table. “We could try out your wireless,” he suggested.“Good!” Minerva would be agreeable to almost anything he suggested right now.
*snip*
I'll bet she would!
Response from Fishy (Reviewer)
*snip*
Minerva looked up at him and was struck by how very attractive he was. In that moment, she would have agreed that the sound of monkeys banging ashcans was nice. Fortunately, this was the station’s “music for the dinner hour,” and really was pleasant.
*snip*
*bursts out laughing, barking in fact*
Response from MMADfan (Author of Resolving a Misunderstanding)
Minerva is in a very agreeable mood!