XXII: Finding

XXII: Finding

Albus lay in the cavity beneath the rock, hoping that he hadn't dug himself his own grave. It would be dark soon. Already, the shadows had grown long, and his little niche was veiled in gloom. Still, he was concerned that the wrong party might find him. He doubted that Grindelwald would spare any of his own wizards to search for him until he received some definitive evidence both that there had been wizards in the area and that he, Dumbledore, had been amongst them. The Dark Wizard simply could not spare anyone at the moment, Albus was fairly sure. No, Grindelwald's strategies were fairly predictable, and it was likely that if he had a suspicion that there were wizards loose in the vicinity of the wrecked vehicle, he would manipulate the Muggles to make the initial search and only send in his own men once he believed there was a prize worth seeking.

Not wanting to rely solely on the darkness to hide him from any Muggles who might stumble across him, and hoping that he was correct in his assumptions about Grindelwald's tactics, Dumbledore raised his borrowed wand and, slashing it through the air, cast an Imperturbable Charm. He was disturbed by how much energy casting the Charm seemed to take. Of course, he probably always expended the same amount of energy every other time he cast it, he had just never noticed since his magical reserves were usually so vast. After waiting several minutes, Albus cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself, pleased to note that particular Charm did not seem as draining as the first.

He surely must look a sight. His Glamour had completely disappeared hours ago, even before Alastor had Portkeyed away. Albus could feel the dried blood matting his hair and beard, and he wasn't sure himself how much of it was his and how much belonged to the brave lad who lay dead and Transfigured beside him. The left side of his forehead had been sliced open by some of the flying debris; tremendous swelling around the wound had extended to his left eye, making it difficult for him to open it more than a crack. His left shoulder was swollen, as well, and his shirt felt uncomfortably tight around it. Concerned more about the cold and the state of his magical reserve than about cleanliness or comfort, Albus hadn't bothered trying to clean the coat of blood and muck before he'd put it back on. Beneath the coat, he was still wearing the now-sleeveless jacket, which was equally bloody. Perhaps if the Muggles did find him, he could just stand up and frighten them away with his appearance, he thought wryly.

Laying there beneath the rock, Albus drifted in and out of sleep. Trying to stay awake was becoming increasingly difficult, despite the fact that the pain in his shoulder and head were excruciating and the ground was cold and hard. He wondered if help were really coming for him, and, if so, whether they would be able to avoid detection, themselves. Rather than give in entirely to sleep – he was worried that even a wizarding search party might not find him in the dark, with the protective charms he'd cast – Albus tried to practice some Occlumency meditations, removing himself from the direct experience of his own discomfort, yet remaining aware of his surroundings. The shear effort required in the attempt was sufficient to occupy his mind and keep him awake, at any rate.

Minerva continued through the dark, grateful for her Animagus's night vision, which was able to make use of the paltry available light. She wished that moonrise was earlier; the additional light of the quarter moon would have been welcome. Once again, she stopped, pricking her ears, sniffing the wind. She was close now, she could tell. The scents were much stronger, but she could still hear nothing. Albus was near, yes, very near. Minerva moved faster, still almost silently, along the trail. Yes! He was here. But where? She could hear nothing. Her feline heart beat faster as she crept toward a scraggly tree. Yes, here. There was a rock. It smelled of Albus and of Carson. She nosed closer, her feline instincts overriding her human caution. There, in that hole. But she heard nothing, no breathing, and saw only an indistinct form . . . was it just more dirt and rock? But then her witch's mind engaged, and she knew it to be a Disillusionment Charm, and, she hoped, some kind of Imperturbable that was keeping her from hearing Albus's breathing, for she could now discern Albus's outline through the Disillusionment.

Minerva stepped closer to him; yes, he was breathing. She didn't see Carson, but at that moment her relief at finding her mentor was so great, she scarcely gave a thought to the other wizard's absence. Minerva crept into the small shelter. "Mrrrow." Giving a slight meow, she nudged Albus' elbow with her head. "Mrrr-rrrrow," she trilled again lightly.

Albus opened his eyes and turned his head toward her. "Ah, a visitor. But you should go, little one. It isn't safe for either of us here. Of course, you are a French cat. I should speak French, no doubt." Albus reached out to stroke the small animal. "I know a cat a bit like you at home, she's a sweet . . . Minerva?" he said as he touched the cat. "Minerva, am I going mad, or is that you?"

"Mrr-rrrow-ow!" Minerva butted his side affectionately with her head.

"What are you doing here?"

Minerva withdrew from the cramped shelter, stood completely still, listening intently, sniffing the breeze, and then she transformed.

"I am here to help get you home, Albus. I'm afraid there have been some problems along the way, however," she whispered, still careful, although she had heard no one nearby. Minerva pulled her wand from her pocket and ended the Disillusionment and Imperturbable Charms.

"They sent you? Alone?" Albus asked incredulously, returning her whisper hoarsely.

"Yes and no. That's what I meant by things not going the way they were supposed. Can you get out of there? Can I help?" She reached in to offer him her hand. "My God, Albus, you look . . ." Minerva couldn't even express how utterly dreadful Albus appeared.

"I can only imagine. And I must not smell too pretty, either."

"Well, don't apologise about that; it was how I found you so easily. But where's Carson? I could smell him, as well."

Albus was trying to drag himself out of the hole, allowing Minerva to grab onto his right hand and arm to assist him, so he was spared having to answer her question immediately. Even once out from the niche beneath the rock, Albus lay, this time on his stomach, breathing heavily, and trying not to give voice to his pain. Finally, he rolled back over on his right side and whispered, voice cracking, "He's still beneath the rock, Minerva. I am so sorry."

Still crouching beside Albus, Minerva could see the log-like shape beyond him. She blinked. It did not change. She lowered herself completely to the ground. She should have been prepared; it had been a possibility all along; she knew that. Minerva reached out and stroked her former teacher's blood-caked face. He was her concern now. She could grieve later.

"Let's get you cleaned up a bit while we talk and decide what we're going to do, then, shall we?" she whispered, as lightly as she could with the lump in her throat.

Albus merely nodded. He was so exhausted. There was finally someone there who wasn't in worse shape than he was, someone who could do something to help him.

Casting Lavare, a gentle cleansing charm, over his face, then his hair and beard, Minerva began to tell Albus about the plans Sprangle had made for them, about Frankel, and about the Portkeys. After performing a Warming Charm, she asked Albus to help her get his coat off, and when it became clear that his arm was now too swollen to do so without causing him great agony, she first cut the arm from the coat, then sliced through the front of it, eased him out of it, then helped him lie back down. When she reached the part of her story where she described how they had made her Portkey a cat's belled collar, she was attempting to determine the extent of the damage to his shoulder. Albus gasped and choked slightly.

"I'm so sorry, Albus, I didn't mean to hurt you further!"

"No, that's fine. I was trying not to laugh, actually. It would be funny if the situation here weren't so dire. Let me guess. Sprangle would not allow you to carry your own Portkey."

"You must know Sprangle. The man is a certifiable nincompoop," replied Minerva. "As you can imagine would happen when you have an idiot making the plans, everything went wrong almost as soon as we got here." Minerva told Albus of Frankel's unfortunate encounter with the German soldiers.

"Hmm, I wonder if that was 'Horst,' whom we had the displeasure of encountering earlier. After the jeep exploded, the three of us were hiding behind some bushes when a group of German soldiers came by. I think it was happenstance that they came upon the scene, but a fellow named 'Horst' decided it might be amusing, or revealing, to shoot blindly into the trees on either side of the road. His fellow soldiers were most displeased with him. They seemed to think he'd snapped, I believe."

"Could be the same soldier, I suppose," said Minerva as she cast a strong cleansing charm on the overcoat. "I never heard a name – or if I did, I didn't recognise it as such. I'm afraid my German wasn't up to understanding much of what was said." She quickly apprised Albus of what transpired after Frankel was shot and how she had come to the decision to abandon Frankel to search for him.

"You did not abandon him, my dear. I am sure it is precisely what he would have wished you to do. I don't believe that there was anything you could have done at that moment that would have improved the situation for him, and your own position would have been compromised even if you weren't captured. With any luck, they will turn their backs on him long enough for him to Portkey back to Headquarters."

"The fact remains, Albus, that you and I are essentially stranded here unless we can retrieve a Portkey, create a new one, or Apparate somewhere," Minerva said as she cast a Detumescens Charm to reduce the swelling in his shoulder. "As we are in the middle of France somewhere, Apparating is not an option. You are incapable of it at the moment, and I am unable to Apparate us both back to London. I doubt I could Apparate myself to London from this distance, let alone Side-Along with you. Creating a new Portkey might work, if we had the leisure, and you were up to it; I have never created one in my life, so I cannot do it. Therefore, that option is out." Minerva gently explored the injury to Dumbledore's head, touching it gingerly with the tips of her fingers.

"We are left with a choice of trying to walk somewhere, which seems highly inadvisable for obvious reasons, waiting for other rescue from the Ministry, or attempting to locate Frankel and the Portkeys. None of these sound like particularly good options, but two of them at least can be performed simultaneously. You shall crawl back into your little den there, I will cast a nice strong warming spell on you, and a little Disillusionment Charm, as well. You will wait, and I will go back and see if the soldiers and Frankel are where I left them. I rather doubt it, but it's worth a try. If they are not, I will wait there for a little while and see if the Ministry sends anyone else after us when we don't show up – of course, with any luck at all, Frankel has Portkeyed back already and they have another team on their way." Throughout this speech, Minerva cast cleansing charms and mild healing charms over Albus. "Now, I think I've done all I can. I believe that your shoulder is badly broken, and your collar bone, as well, but I'm afraid that between the moving around you've done and the swelling, if I were to cast an Episkey, or even just a Canaliculus, the bones would knit wrongly, and they'd just have to break everything again at St. Mungo's. You'd likely never heal right, in that case. Hopefully, with the swelling down, you'll at least be a bit more comfortable. I don't dare do much for your head wound, either, since I wouldn't know what I was doing. Now, I've also cleaned up the overcoat as well as I could – I think you'll have to burn it, though, Albus – so we can wrap you back up in that."

Albus had been trying, without success, to interrupt Minerva as she laid out her reasoning and made her plans. When it appeared she'd finished speaking for the moment, he tried to smile, and said, "Still Mother McGonagall, aren't you, my dear?" Minerva just twitched the corner of her mouth at Albus's attempt at levity.

"Minerva, I cannot let you do that. I am sure that you can Apparate out. You can bring help back with you."

"Don't be absurd, Albus. First, I do not believe I can Apparate all the way to London; second, I haven't been to France since I was six years old and I visited Paris with my family, therefore, I cannot Apparate anywhere within France; third, I am not leaving you, even if I could Apparate to London – or elsewhere – to safety; and fourth, . . . I am not leaving you," she finished quietly.

"My dear, it is too dangerous. I already have one dead boy to return to his family; I could not bear it if you were to meet the same fate." Albus hadn't intended to reveal so much emotion, but in his exhaustion, sorrow, and desperation that Minerva not follow through on her plan, he pleaded with her, voice cracking. "Please, Minerva, go, Apparate home."

"Carson's death has nothing to do with any decision we take now, Albus. You did not abandon him; how can you expect me to abandon you?" she asked.

"His death is my fault. From beginning to end. It will always weigh on my conscience," sighed the exhausted wizard, eyes closed.

"Well, unless you exploded that jeep, or you killed him outright, that is foolishness, Albus. I am sorry to be harsh, but you must listen to me. I don't know all that happened here, but I do know that you gave Alastor your Portkey, when you could have just taken it and transported yourself, then sent rescue for the two Aurors. You did not. You gave your Portkey to Alastor, likely saving his life, and you stayed with Carson. From what Alastor reported, Carson had been very badly wounded. I know you did what you could for him, Albus, and I'm sure it hurts you that you were unable to do more. But you must not allow that to interfere with your own escape from this place. I will not leave you, Albus, and, last I knew, there is no way to force someone to Apparate. Unless, of course, you wish to try an Imperio on me?" She smiled slightly with her last remark.

If she knew, if she knew how he received that fatal wound, that I live only because he does not . . . she would not feel so charitably toward me, thought Albus.

"Very well, Minerva, if you must. But please do not linger long by the road. It has only been German soldiers so far, but if Grindelwald sends someone . . . please be wary, my dear."

"I will be, I promise, truly, Albus. If there's no one there, if this doesn't work, well, then we'll try to think of another plan to get away from this place. And I won't leave my Animagus form until I return here, okay? If Frankel is there, perhaps he can give me my collar!" Minerva tried to grin. "Ready to put your coat back on?"

"Yes, but, well . . . I've been lying in that hole for a long time. And as thirsty as I am, I wouldn't think I'd need to, but . . ."

"Oh." Minerva flushed, thankful for the darkness. "You need to relieve yourself before you settle back into your little den? What if I help you over to a nice tree, then come back and, um, arrange your shelter while you're busy. When you're done, let me know, and I'll help you back here, all right?"

With Minerva's assistance, Albus stood, somewhat shakily, and walked a few yards to a "likely spot," as Minerva called it. After she had walked back toward the rock, he tried to undo his trousers. To his chagrin, he found that he could not stand without holding onto the tree with his one good hand and that he could not hold onto the tree and open his trousers at the same time.

"Minerva?"

"All done?" she asked.

"No, I'm afraid I have an embarrassing problem. I only have one hand. I can hold onto the tree and remain upright, or I can unfasten my trousers. I cannot do both." Albus leaned more heavily against the tree.

"Well, no worries, sir, we can take care of this. Is it a zip or buttons?" Minerva was all business, trying to hide her own embarrassment, as well as trying to make Albus more comfortable in the awkward situation.

"Buttons. Transfigured the zip. It was a rather frightening thing to have so close to . . . you know," he said.

"All right. There, that's done. Unfortunately, I'm afraid that still leaves you with the problem of actually doing what you came to do," Minerva said, thinking rapidly. "I have an idea, sir. What about a slight Levitation Charm? I could cast something to keep you upright, that way you'd have a hand free. I'm afraid I don't think I could cast it and hold it without maintaining eye contact, but I promise not to look. And, after all, it is just a natural function," she offered, trying to minimise Albus's obvious discomfort. "You'll feel much better after, too, I'm sure."

"That sounds fine. Whenever you're ready." Albus held onto the tree and waited.

"There you go, can you feel it? See if you can let go of the tree," instructed Minerva.

Albus let go of the tree, experimentally, to discover the odd sensation of being pulled upright. Most peculiar sensation, he thought, somewhat like Mobilicorpus feels when your conscious, but not as uncomfortable. Aloud, he said, "Yes, it seems to be working. Thank you."

Glad that his back was to Minerva, Albus finished the task he had come to do, then labouriously buttoned himself back up. This was all quite embarrassing enough without having her do that, as well. He would be most grateful when he could use both hands again, and stand without becoming dizzy, and use a charm to button his clothes, if he needed to . . .

"I'm set, now, Minerva."

"All right. Here I am," she said, coming to his right side and putting an arm around him. Albus felt the modified Levitation Charm drop as she took hold of him, and his weight sagged against her.

"I'm sorry, my dear. I don't mean to be a burden. Literally," he said. "My legs just don't seem to want to hold me as they usually do."

"No worries, there, Albus, I've got you."

They made it back to the rock, where Minerva helped him on with his somewhat cleaner, and repaired, overcoat.

"I had wanted to make you a bit more room under there, but I am growing concerned about the hour. If they haven't moved Frankel yet, they will soon. I had wanted to get you some water, as well. I'll take the flask with me just in case, but I hope we'll be leaving here soon, and won't need it."

With Minerva's help, Albus crawled back under the rock. She Disillusioned him and cast a strong Warming Charm before she left, telling him that she'd be back as quickly as she could, but not to worry if she was delayed. Albus watched with a mixture of pride and apprehension as Minerva slipped easily into her Animagus form and leapt off through the night, a barely visible shadow.

Lying there, Albus thought about their predicament. If there were no other rescuers from the Ministry when Minerva went back to the road, and if Frankel was gone, which, no doubt, he was, they would have to find another way out. They could not delay. Frankel's appearance – and, hopefully, disappearance, if he were able to use his Portkey – would alert Grindelwald. They would have little time. Certainly not enough time to walk to safety, even if he were in any condition to do so. Minerva would have to Apparate them out. Perhaps to Paris. She had been there once, after all. And now that it was liberated, they could seek help from the Muggle Allied Forces there. Or perhaps he could look up one of his old wizarding acquaintances, if any were still left in the city. The Ministry had no presence in Paris, although he had urged they establish one, and the French wizarding government was still in exile, waiting for the Muggle war to cool down and for Grindelwald to be dispatched. Still, Paris would make a good destination. He would simply have to convince her that she could Apparate there despite not having been there since she was a child.

Feeling somewhat less worried now that he had an alternate plan worked out, Albus dozed fitfully and waited for Minerva's return.