Dumbledore
Dumbledore sat in his office, weary and tired after a long day, and knowing it was just going to get longer from here. As he watched and waited with trepidation, the big fire in his office flared green, and a woman stepped out of it. She had brown eyes, though as Dumbledore gazed on them, they seemed more like steel, how hard and uncompromising they were. Her hair was grey, cut through with streaks of black. She walked ramrod straight, and anger radiated from every pore of her body, rage barely contained.
Dumbledore stood up and went to shake her hand. “Ah, hello Madam Bones. It has…been a long day, so forgive me if I do not have any refreshments prepared for you.”
Madam Bones did not take his proffered hand, and he slowly put it down, hiding his annoyance at being affronted in such a way, smoothing over his features in a way that only came with decades of practiced work. “And it’s about to get longer, Headmaster.” She brushed past him and sat down angrily. “Also, it's Minister Bones now, and don't forget that.”
Ah. So it’s Headmaster now, is it? No longer Albus, like usual, he thought wryly to himself as he sat back down on the other side of the desk, in his plush chair. Fawkes, loyal Fawkes, flew down and rested upon Dumbledore’s shoulder, cawing softly and glowing with his otherworldly light. “I assume you are here because of the incident earlier tonight?” He asked, already knowing the answer.
In response, she slammed her hand down on the desk, setting his objects rattling. “Incident, Headmaster? Incident?! This is not some minor mistake that happened and must be rectified. A student. Was. Beheaded!” She annunciated each word slowly and clearly, as if he were a child that needed to be taught, as if he hadn't been the one who had walked into the Slytherin Common Room and found one of his children, one of his responsibilities, a bright and shining star whose light had been snuffed out far too soon, lying on the ground, the head just gone. He still had not fully exited the shock that had set upon him since that moment, had not shaken off the cold fingers of disgust and guilt that had wrapped themselves around his brain. That was why when the Minister had sent a message to him an hour ago saying she would be there presently, he had accepted the letter, if not happily at least gratefully. It gave him something to focus on, something to do. Political waters to navigate and people’s tempers to soothe. If he didn't have anything to do, he would just see the scene playing over and over in his head. Running down the hallway, looking at the crumpled forms of students and not able to stop and help them, hearing the screams and the roars of something in the distance, seeing-/.
He forcefully cut off that line of thinking and refocused on Bones, who was still glaring with rage. “Yes. It is an immeasurable tragedy, Minister, and I have my staff working right now to figure out where the beast came from and how it got into the school, I assure you. The perpetrator will be caught, have no doubt about it, and they will be severely punished for tonight.”
“Pu-punished severely?” She sputtered, face growing redder by the second as she struggled to get words out. “Albus, this isn’t some student who snuck out of bed after hours and got trapped in a classroom that then shifted and you have to wait twenty-four hours to free them! A student is dead, and it is under your watchful care. I won’t lie to you Albus. The last three decades have been bad. They have been really bad.” She paused for a moment and whispered to herself, shaking her head. “God, how has it already been three decades?” Her tone was bone-weary and tired, but then she refocused on her purpose, namely, ripping him a new one. “But Hogwarts, through all the wars, all the battles that tore this nation apart, it has always been a pillar of safety. If people were in need of safe harbor, of a place to rest without worrying about being attacked by Voldemort or Grindelwald or anyone like that! Especially since you became Headmaster. Everyone knows how much Tom Riddle feared you, never dares to fight you head-on on even ground. And now even Hogwarts is unsafe.” She shook her head sadly. “Do you realize that my brother and his wife died, defying Voldemort? And my father and mother died by Grindlewald’s hand. I have one last living family member left. And I entrusted her to you! I let her come to these hallowed halls and be watched over by you as I took duties as the Minister.”
“Amelia, the attack was from the dungeons. It came nowhere near the Hufflepuff corridors.” Dumbledore broke in.
“But it could have, Albus! If the Slytherins could be attacked, if a monster of the Old World could get in here somehow and tear apart students and House-Elves alike, then it could easily do so again. I've gotten many messages from many angered parents. Lucius Malfoy, as you well can imagine, is calling for your removal from the school. This ‘incident’ as you put it, has shaken the faith of a lot of people. And I can't believe I am saying this, but for one of the few times I might be in agreement with Lucius. If you have become too old and lax in your duties, perhaps it is time for you to retire.”
Dumbledore straightened up, eyes kind but inside, anger raged. On some level he had been expecting this, of course. In the back of his mind he had known that people would be calling for his removal. But still, to hear it out loud, to let the words hang in the air, it still shocked him. After all he had done in the service of the Ministry of Magic and wizardkind itself, for all the decades of service, nearly a century and a half by now, and to be called old and lax for failing to see something no one could have seen coming? He carefully controlled his voice as he spoke, making sure it stayed calm. “Minister Bones. I understand your concern. Truly I do. But I assure you that there were no signs, nothing that could have foretold this great tragedy. It is evident we have a traitor in our midst. And I fear that if you remove me, that the traitor will only grow emboldened by this.” His voice took on a commanding tone, one that simply demanded that the other person see the reason in what he was saying.
“Don't you see, Amelia? This was an indirect attack, an attack that came when I was distracted, at a feast with all the children. The person was not involved directly at all, and made sure it came when my back was turned. Clearly they fear me, as did Voldemort once. If you remove me, the last blockage, the last obstacle in their way may be removed also. They might attack wantonly, and openly. This single casualty may very well multiply and make this seem pale in comparison. And also,” now he made his voice soften, his hands spreading out openly. “If you wish to do so, I will allow your Aurors to inspect the school themselves, and the Cursebreakers to evaluate the wards. You may find something that we missed, seeing as it is your job after all. We are just teachers, not warriors, though some of us were in our past lives perhaps.” He finished there, leaving the hanging implication and reminder that Hogwarts still had many of the Old Guard standing ready, some of the best and brightest, some of the most skilled wizards alive at the moment, in these halls, ready to protect the students. At any cost.
Amelia sighed and leaned back in her chair, rubbing at her face. After a few minutes of silent contemplation, she opened her eyes once more, bags under her eyes shifting as she did. “Very well, Albus. I will choose to put my trust in you once more, for the time being. And I will be taking you up on your offer. Tomorrow, expect our best and brightest to be at your doorstep, and they will be let in. Also, I expect better safety rules to be in place.”
Dumbledore nodded at once. “The doors shall be open to them. And new safety rules have already began to be put in place. No student is allowed out of corridors without a prefect with them, and all Heads of Houses will be going down to their respective dorm rooms before dinner and guiding the students up to the Great Hall personally. Also, at recreational times, they will go and get a headcount before the students are allowed their separate ways to make sure all are accounted for. Do you have any more suggestions to make?”
Amelia pursed her lips thoughtfully for a second and then shook her head. “The only thing I can think of is removing that archaic rule that makes it so House-Elves can not Apparate inside Hogwarts unless summoned. The days are long gone where we have to worry about another school sending House-Elves to sabotage Hogwarts by corrupting and then teleporting away to another part of the school until they can escape, I’m sure you can agree.”
Dumbledore nodded sagely. “A good suggestion. I will try and work with the Sorting Hat to see if there is a way we can remove that stipulation in the binding of Hogwarts. Now that this unpleasant business is over, can I offer you refreshments?”
She shook her head and stood up, this time accepting his outstretched hand. “No, I must be going now, Albus. Don't think this makes us all right. I still will be keeping a harsh eye on you.” She sighed and her shoulders slumped, a little bit of her ramrod posture deserting her. “I trust you will be able to deal with the funeral arrangements with the parents?”
Dumbledore felt a wash of grief roll over him and he nodded. “Very good. I will try to keep the wolves away from the door as long as possible, Dumbledore. But I make no promises. And if parents pull their students out of Hogwarts…well, I can't say I entirely blame them of course. I will keep young Susan here, but if anything happens to my niece…” She let the threat hang in the air, knowing that Dumbledore understood. And with that, she turned and her robes flared behind her, as she strode to the fire, threw a pinch of powder in it and disappeared with a roar of flame and a gout of smoke.
The moment she was gone, Dumbledore made his way slowly back to his desk and sat down heavily on it. Fawkes, who had flown back to his perch when Dumbledore had stood up, resumed his position on his shoulder. Slowly, Dumbledore raised a shaking hand and took the spectacles off his face and folded them neatly on the desk. And then…and then he allowed the emotions to bubble up inside him, and he allowed himself to feel them. And that cold night, as the moon hid behind the clouds and the body of a beast rested in a locked room in the castle, he wept. He wept for the young life lost, and the blood spilled that day. He wept, for even if he hadn't been condemned for the girl’s death, the condemnation of himself, deep in his soul, was worse than any governing body could ever do to him. He wept for love, and guilt. But most of all he wept because of the little voice in his head, the one that still sounded like Grindelwald after all this time whispered to him, telling him that if his suspicions were right, this would not be the last of the bloodshed, not for a good long while.
And besides him, Fawkes let out a long mournful squawk and wept alongside him, hot tears hitting the desk with sizzling splashing sounds. Together, they wept for the future and the past.
* * *
December, 1991
Dumbledore was in his office’s upper-level observatory, staring through his telescope when he heard the gargoyle shifting outside his door, the staircase twirling itself upwards. He stepped back from the telescope, sighing. It was past midnight, and he had finished all his paperwork for the day, so he had decided to take some time to gaze through his telescope before going to bed. He had thought that he wouldn't be interrupted and everyone else would be in bed at this time, as he probably should be, he privately admitted to himself.
Either way, he felt annoyed that his relaxing time had been interrupted as he carefully closed up the telescope so as to not damage it, and cut off the flow of magic he was feeding into the runes and then began to make his way down the staircase towards the office floor. He was on the second balcony overlooking the desk when the door was knocked heavily. Hearing that knock, the weight and heaviness of it, Dumbledore knew there was only one person it could possibly be.
“Come in, Hagrid!” he yelled as he kept making his way down the stairs, and Hagrid swung the door open and pushed his way inside, the doorway magically expanding to fit him inside. Dumbledore had had that feature installed after one of the very first times Hagrid had visited his office he had gotten stuck halfway through due to his enormous size, both in height and stomach. Even back then, when he was just starting his job here, he had been a hefty lad.
Hagrid walked in and waited patiently till Dumbledore made his way down the stairs, his beard a mess of brambles and some leaves stuck in his great mane of hair. Dumbledore suddenly felt very, very old as he walked down the stairs slowly and Hagrid awaited him. “What is it, Hagrid?” He asked as he finally made his way all the way down the stairs.
“Yer migh’ want to come see for yerself, Headmaster. I’ll explain on the way, if ye wish me too, but I dunno how make much sense it would make unless ye see it with yer own eyes.”
Dumbledore sighed and made his way to the door, waving a hand. “Very well, Hagrid. Let us go.” Hagrid nodded and together they went out the door and down the spiraling staircase. The halls were silent at this time of night, of course they were, but it still felt eerie. He was so used to hearing the bubbling laughter of the youth and the chatter of excited voices as they made their way from class to class it was unusual to hear it so…desolate. Soon, though, they were at one of the various corridors that opened to the outside, and Hagrid guided them out, having to duck to not smack his head on the arches.
“Jus’ this way, Headmaster.” Hagrid grunted as they began to walk across the great huge rolling lawn. Though the area was so expansive it felt wrong to call it a lawn, Dumbledore could think of no better word for it. They were headed towards Hagrid’s hut and the Forbidden Forest. He had offered to give Hagrid a bigger place to live many times over the decades, but Hagrid had always refused. Said he liked the smallness of the place, reminded him why he shouldn't spend much time in and be outside more. Made him better at his duties, he claimed, not wanting or being able to sit inside all comfortably for as long as he liked.
But when they approached the hut, Hagrid just kept striding right by it, not even pausing for a second or two. Dumbledore, who had been walking alongside him, now fell behind him as he had been expecting to turn towards the hut, doing it already without thought. It was then that Dumbledore noticed something he hadn't seen before, because he had been level with the gameskeeper. He shook his head at his own lack of awareness before he could stop himself
“Hagrid, my dear man…” He began as he looked upon the great battle axe taller than him that rested upon his back, along with a crossbow whose trigger was as large as Dumbledore’s head. And out of the corner of his eye, he could see a dark shadow slip out from some low brush and start slinking alongside them, keeping to the woods. He assured himself that it was surely just Kazki, the green fur blending him to the underbrush, yellow eyes the only true sign he was there, watching. With a shiver, he then noticed that the two massive tusks were stained with red as well.
Dumbledore knew that he was in no danger from the big man, that he trusted him with his life and that of course he wasn’t luring him into the woods to quietly kill and dispose of him. But that didn't stop the fear that rose inside him for a few brief moments. That’s the thing about fear, he had learned after almost two centuries on this earth, centuries that had not included him sitting safely behind a desk, no indeed. Fear didn't care about reason. It didn't care about logic or facts. It was deeper than that, more primal. It was emotion in its truest form, and the brain was hard pressed to stop something like that, something so raw and powerful. So that was why, when he spoke, he couldn't keep a slight tremor out of his voice, a slight quaver, no matter how sternly his brain told his stomach he was being an unreasonable old fool. “Why are your weapons on your back?”
Hagrid looked behind him and gestured towards the forest. “Par’ of the reason why I came to get yer. We’ll get there in a minute. Then you’ll see.”
True to his word, after a little more than a minute of walking, they got to the edge of the forest, and dark shapes moved among the trees out to greet them. Once again a little gibbering of fear rose up from his stomach, and made its presence known. Dumbledore firmly pushed it back down and took a deep breath, steadying himself, unfurling his fingers from the shaft of his wand and pulling the hand out of his pocket.
“Hello, Magorian,” he said respectively, and bowed deeply, his beard brushing against the ground. In response, the centaur bowed in return, not nearly as deep but still more than they were usually inclined to give to wizards.
“Headmaster Dumbledore. It has been a long time,” rumbled Magorian in his basso voice, straightening up from his bow of respect to meet his eyes.
“Indeed it has, Magorian. I understand there is something you wished to show me?” Dumbledore replied in a neutral tone.
“Yes, it is just a few feet in the woods at a clearing,” Magorian replied, gesturing to the trees where the other centaurs stood, half-illuminated in the moonlight, bows out and the tips reflecting the glow of said moon.
“Do I have your permission to enter your domain, then?” Dumbledore asked. Of course, legally the Forbidden Forest was in Hogwarts ground, but he didn't ask it out of any legal reason, but out of respect for the old customs. Centaurs, even more so than giants and goblins, respected the Old World rules of doing things heavily, taking great stock in the proper rituals, customs and laws that bound the ancient magical beings tighter than chains ever could. So it wasn't that he couldn't enter the Forbidden Forest if he wanted to, not like the Carpenter house, with its threshold. It was that it was, in the centaurs’ eyes, the proper thing to do, and was what kept him in their respect, if not their equal, at least not as bad as most wizards.
“Very well,” Magorian said after a brief pause. “We give you permission to enter our domain, as long as you abide by the rules of the forest.
“I shall.” said Dumbledore, inclinging his head deeply. And that was that; Magorian turned away and began to clop his way back into the forest and Dumbledore followed. The trees loomed overhead, dark and scary in the moonlight. The leaves rustled softly and even that innocuous noise seemed to have a dangerous edge to it. He didn't like being in this forest during the day , let alone during the night. And this night, there seemed to be the faint feeling of death hanging in the air, of pain and loss. And as he walked, he noticed there were foot long spikes sticking out of the trees and the ground at random angles. They were somewhat like the centaur’s spears, but without the shaft and much longer. He began to feel something very wrong had happened here.
Eventually, they found their way to where the trees cleared out and there was a patch of green grass several yards wide on either side. And in the middle of it lay a great, huge hulking beast. Its fur was a scarlet red, and around its body was long, deep furrows in the ground, probably by the long tail, at least six feet long. The body was long and sinewy with a quiet grace like a lion, and yet undeniably hard muscle underneath. The tail had spikes running up and down it, encircling it completely and poking out from between the fur, and at the end was a long, curling scorpion stinger that was as long as his forearm and tipped with a green poison. With a sudden flash of realization, it came to him that the spikes he had seen in the ground and the trunks of trees must have been from this beast, it must have shot it from its tail and they had magically regrown, for there were no gaps in the chain of spikes where they should have been missing.
The most disturbing was the beast’s face, which was human. Not just human in expression, literally human. It had a smooth, darkly tanned face with brown eyes, and its face, even in death, was twisted into a snarl. The teeth were all normal, and the proportions all right, but it still somehow looked alien, sitting on the end of a long mane of red, thick fur. One of its arms, or legs, he couldn't really be sure, lay severed not ten feet away from him, golden blood staining the grass, and it had deep furrows racked into it’s side, undeniably made from bloody tusks sitting under yellow eyes. “Is that…” Dumbledore began in a low, harsh voice, roughened with shock.
“Ay, it is. It’s a Manticore,” Hagrid replied before Dumbledore could even finish his sentence.
“But there hasn’t been one of those in the Forbidden Forest in…I don't even know how long!” Dumbledore protested, his eyes still not believing the massive, dangerous creature laying on the ground in front of him.
“Seven hundred and forty seven years,” Magorian replied quietly behind him. “Not since the wards on the castle had been upgraded. This one slipped through this morning, seemingly as shocked to see us as we were to see it. When it realized what had happened to it, that it had been separated from its home, it went quite mad. I cannot tell you whether it was from joy of new hunting grounds, a feeling of loss from not being home anymore, or pain from the unprepared…” he cast a glance at Hagrid and then at Dumbledore, who gave a small shake of his head. “...arrival into our domain. It started to rampage through the forest, and I and my kin hunted it. It wasn't hard to track, since it killed anything that it came across. Besides, something this size, coming out of nowhere, hasn't been seen since Hogwarts last upgraded its wards five hundred years ago, and all that massive magic was being moved around.” Morrigan looked at Dumbledore, something like fear mixed with confusion in his eyes. “ So we hunted the beast, and when our arrows failed and it killed one of our kin, Bane rode to get Hagrid.” Hagrid grunted in sadness, hearing that one of the centaurs had been murdered. He had always been close with them, probably because they were both creatures in a way. “Hagrid came and together we managed to corner it here, where the Gameskeeper,” a note of something like respect touched his voice, “dueled the thing with his massive axe and managed to sever one of its legs, and then drove a crossbow quarrel through the things eye, killing it for good.”
Hagrid didn't flush with pride when he looked at Dumbledore, not exactly. But there was a straightening of his shoulders, a pulling in of his stomach as rose to his full height, ramrod posture obviously bespeaking that he felt successful under Dumbledore’s praiseful face. It wasn’t often that Hagrid used his large physical mass for something other than wrestling an unruly Hippogriff, or chopping down firewood to feed the kitchens of the castle in its never-ending need for firewood, but when he did find occasion for it, it was powerful indeed. That was the reason he refused to let the firewood be magically cut down or anything like that, he had insisted that chopping down the trees kept his muscles strong.
He was cut from his musings – he really must stop doing that – when Magorian spoke again, his dark braided hair swaying as he shook his head and gestured with his hands. “This isn’t the only odd occurrence, Headmaster. Something strange has been happening in the forest these last few months. Beings that have lived here, peaceful beings like us that have never really caused any harm, they’ve…changed. Something is corrupting this forest. I know it has always seemed dark and scary to you, to all the wizards in the big castle. But there has always been a balance to it, an even scale of light and dark, though it may not seem that way at first glance. But lately that scale has been tipped, like a great hand has been pushing its fingers on the side of darkness. Not as much light is in this forest, metaphorically and literally. The sun doesn't shine as bright during the day time, and the blackness during the night seems to be heavier and more pervasive. And the stars speak of terrible things, terrible things happening now and will be happening in the future. They are darker and speak of omens that are worse than I have ever seen in my lifetime, and now with the recent addition of the barrier fraying for nastier things to break in and peaceful beings to go nasty…” He trailed off and looked up into the stars for a long moment before continuing. “I advise caution. Dark things are coming, and I fear that even you, this time, won’t be able to stand in its way.” And with that ominous note, he turned and galloped away, disappearing into the dark with the rest of the herd.
Hagrid looked at him and smiled slightly. “Still melodramatic as always, eh Headmaster?”
Dumbledore didn't respond, his faith in himself not quite as unshaken as Hagrid’s was in him.