CHAPTER 20
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 20 ~ Two Visitations
“I understand your concern, Headmaster, but this council would be amiss if it used the resources of our society to handle a purely muggle concern,” Professor Figglesworth said to a scowling Albus.
The Head of Hogwarts stood in front of a podium, having just addressed the Ministry Council on the issue of the possible discovery of Dementors in India, where the creatures were feeding off of the Untouchables.
“But Minister, it should be clear to you that should the Dementors increase their numbers they will be a threat to both the muggle and the wizarding world,” Albus said, “They care not where they draw their souls from. These Dementors have no allegiance to any government authority. They are predators. We must find them and destroy them.”
Figglesworth looked over the paperwork before him, scowling slightly.
“There is no mention of Dementors here. Just the condition of the unfortunate muggles…which for all we know could have been brought on by any number of things. It is not our affair, Headmaster. Let the muggles handle their own problems,” the Minister said with finality. The other council members murmured agreement.
“This council is just as blind and pig-headed as when Fudge was in office. You refuse to see the impending danger until it is upon you,” Albus seethed, power crackling around him in his ire. The council drew back collectively as nervous Aurors took a step forward. No one wanted to fuck with an angry Albus.
“Fine then. I myself will find a way to deal with this situation. For a wizard who runs Hogwarts, I do an awful amount of Ministry work,” the wizard said. “And I assure you, when this business is handled, your reluctance to help will be made common knowledge. You will not receive one iota of credit Figglesworth…neither you nor your empty-headed cronies!” Albus declared, gathering up his paperwork, turning with a great swirl of robes and exiting the boardroom.
The thunder of apparation followed him. No one should have been able to apparate out of the Ministry building…it was a breach of security, but simple wards could not contain Albus Dumbledore. The gods bless them if they tried to arrest him for it.
“He could be trouble, Minister,” one of the councilmen said nervously.
“He’s always trouble,” Figglesworth spat. “Dementors in India. What business of that is ours? Let their Brahmins take care of whatever is striking those people down. They should be glad something is thinning out their population.”
The other council members mumbled agreement as they departed the boardroom.
Damn Dumbledore. The old wizard was always drumming up trouble where there was none.
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”Right through here, Headmaster,” the medi-witch said, opening the door and letting the tall, elderly wizard walk through.
“Thank you, my dear,” Albus said to the witch, who nodded and closed the door behind him.
Albus sighed and looked around the sterile white room. St. Mungos didn’t allow extras in these type of patient rooms. It made no difference to those interred. Albus walked over to the small cot and looked down on Professor Minerva McGonagall, his former Transfiguration student and lover. She was small and wasted now, her reddish-gray hair completely white although she was only in her eighties, just reaching middle-age.
The old wizard sighed, drew up a small folding chair and sat down, taking the witch’s slender hand in his own as he wiped a tear from under his half-moon spectacles.
“Ah, Minerva my sweet. Here we are again,” he said softly, blinking down at the witch. Her thin chest rose and fell slightly beneath the white paper gown she was kept in.
“How I miss you,” he breathed, his thumb moving back and forth over her knuckles. Then his eyes hardened.
“Those idiots at the Ministry have once again turned a blind eye to a growing danger. Dementors are in India, Minerva…and I have no doubt that they are breeding. It seems, my dear, I am once again going to have to take matters into my own hands and send Order members overseas in search of the creatures,” he said, pausing as the witch’s hand twitched.
In the beginning when this happened the wizard hoped that the witch was returning to him. The healers all assured him it was an involuntary motion. Minerva’s limbs were exercised each day to lessen the loss of muscle mass as they kept her alive. Some healers believed victims of Dementors should be allowed to die, and those who could not afford the constant care often did. Albus paid for Minerva’s continued care, unable to let the witch go. At least he could see her. It was incredibly selfish of him…but there it was.
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”Albus! Albus!” Minerva called from the darkness, hearing the Headmaster’s voice. She banged on the invisible walls as she had every time he visited her for years, her eyes glistening. “Albus! I’m here! I’m here!”
A low hiss echoed around her. The witch turned red with rage at the sound.
“You damnable creature!” Minerva shouted at the noise of her captor, “Release me!”
The Dementor ignored the small, irritating voice. The soul had been shouting at it for release for more than eight years now. It was used to the noise, but would be glad when the human’s body died and it could absorb someone more…peaceable to maintain its half-life. True, it had absorbed others for the express purpose of breeding, but Minerva was its core soul, the one that powered it. Only the death of the witch’s body would release her to the afterlife.
The creature shifted deeper into the shadows of the ruins and settled in to dream of vengeance against the wizarding world.
Albus stayed with Minerva for over an hour, having a one-sided discussion concerning how he would go about garnering volunteers to hunt Dementors, not knowing Minerva was listening to every word. She was happy that the horrible creatures would be hunted down and destroyed, but also realized that when the Dementor that held her spirit died, she would too. No one had ever revived when a Dementor was destroyed, so the soul it contained must have been destroyed as well.
This saddened her, but sacrifices had to be made. If she died, then her death would be worth it. The Dementors had to be stopped, no matter the cost. Gods, if she could just see Albus…just look into those kindly, twinkling blue eyes just once more, she’d gladly go to the Afterlife…
”Goodbye, Minerva my love,” the old wizard said, kissing her hand, then laying it carefully by her side, his eyes glistening. “Until next time, my sweet.”
Albus slowly rose from the chair and lifted his glasses, wiping at his eyes as he always did when he left the witch he loved. He put the chair back and looked at Minerva once more before departing the room.
He would find those damned Dementors and this time make sure every single one was wiped from the face of the earth. They had taken the only woman he had ever loved intimately.
For that, they would pay.
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Albus took a leave of absence from Hogwarts, leaving Professor Flitwick as temporary Headmaster. He had not yet let anyone know about the possibility of the Dementors living in India and breeding. After much consideration, he decided Minister Figglesworth had a point…no one had seen the Dementors. He decided it would be best if he went to India to find out for certain what had stricken the Untouchables. Hopefully there would be stricken muggles to examine. In India, they let them die. It was hard enough for the poor to feed those of their families who weren’t in such a state. To feed someone who could not contribute made no sense.
Hermione continued to work on Harry’s song, now adding the underlying notations, upgrading the intricate score to an absolute symphony. She also began to advertise for skilled musicians for a “private project.” To pull them in, she offered two galleons for their time.
What a fiasco that was. Every poser in the wizarding world must have shown up outside of the Potions Master’s gate. Hermione was glad Severus wasn’t on the premises. Some hexes would have certainly flown. Hermione quickly drew up an application and with a few well placed spells made it self-judging…those unqualified were immediately spirited back to whence they came. Then she placed a spell on it to duplicate itself each time an application was taken, placed them in a box and had Eli go outside and attach the box to the fence.
The very first question was: “Can you read music?”
Two-thirds of the musicians disappeared immediately.
Eli scowled out of the living room window at the crowd.
“The Master wouldn’t likes this,” he complained to Hermione, who was in the other window holding a clipboard and watching person after person pluck applications from the self-filling box she had attached to the picket fence.
“Well, let’s just be glad the Master isn’t here,” she said.
The name and appointment times of those witches and wizards who met the requirements magically appeared on the clipboard. Hermione was glad she had thought to make a one day deadline otherwise she would have been overrun. As it stood, she had over two hundred possibles to review by the time the sun went down. It would take a couple of weeks to see them all.
Severus didn’t return to his home for more than a month, although he found himself thinking of Hermione often. Too often in fact, his body reacting to the very thought of the witch. The wizard was hoping “out of sight” meant “out of mind”, but it wasn’t the case. A few nights he needed the assistance of a sleeping draught to help him sleep. Severus was a stubborn wizard, and felt his attraction for the witch was not a good thing. It was undisciplined, something he wasn’t in control of. He knew the moment he saw Hermione he’d want to take her to his bed and lose himself in her again.
He had heard the term “pussy-whipped” before. Had this affliction befallen him? He had only been with the witch once, well twice if he counted the first time…which was a mere shadow of intimacy compared to what he experienced with the witch.
Only his music served to take his mind off her. He had learned the main melody of Harry’s song, picking it out from among the hundreds of notations. He had to admit it was a hauntingly beautiful strain. When he played, Severus could feel the young wizard’s difficult life flow over him, feel the discordance, the impending darkness in the movements of his song…and almost hear the accompaniment of hope, strength, courage and destiny, the unplayed parts of the symphony still coming to life beneath his bow. But that was impossible. It had to be in his head.
Severus avoided using his security mirror to look in on Hermione. He felt it would lower his resistance even further, but one Saturday afternoon he couldn’t help himself and took the mirror out from its hiding place and focused on Hermione. His eyes widened as he saw the witch sitting in her lab behind a long table with a stack of parchments piled on it, apparently listening to a wizard playing a flute. A music stand was in front of him, and Severus saw the parchment.
Hermione must have finished Harry’s music and was auditioning musicians, hoping to find a Harper. By the way the witch’s face was set, she wasn’t impressed with the playing. She motioned to the wizard to stop and said something. The wizard’s face contorted angrily and he shouted something at the witch, waving his flute about and striding toward her.
Hermione’s wand was out in an instant, and the wizard froze as the witch looked at him narrow-eyed. She slid two gallons across the table. The glowering wizard picked it up and Hermione flicked her wand at him and he was gone. She lowered her head and rubbed her brow in exasperation. After several moments she stood up, picked up a parchment and examined it, then walked to the lab door and opened it. Severus could see she had set up wooden chairs in the small space and a number of witches and wizards sat there, looking at her expectantly.
She said something, and a witch with a huge cello made her way inside. Hermione pulled up a chair for her, and lowered the music stand so the witch could read the music, and returned to her seat. The woman began to play and Hermione looked interested for a moment, but then her eyes began to dull. Suddenly she waved her hand at the witch and shook her head.
The witch began to cry. Hermione looked contrite as the woman rose and collected her two galleons. The woman looked at Hermione reproachfully and said something rude by Hermione’s shocked reaction. Then the woman picked up her cello and exited in a huff. Hermione stared after her and suddenly looked extremely tired and worn.
Musicians were a volatile lot under the best circumstances, and they were wearing the witch down. Severus was curious as to how they played the score. He sat there a moment in indecision. If he went to the house now, he would have something to distract him from Hermione, at least for the time being.
He sat there a long moment, watching the next applicant, a burly man with a tuba. He shook his head. No way could a tuba capture the spirit of the symphony of Harry’s soul. He knew how it should be played.
Suddenly the wizard stood up, strode over to the bookshelf, opened the false front and retrieved his violin and bow.
After all her hard work, Hermione deserved to hear the song as it should be played. He was no Harper, but he felt he had captured the essence of the score.
Besides, she needed someone to help her judge. Someone who didn’t mind telling another person they weren’t good enough.
Someone like him.
Severus returned the security mirror to his desk drawer, walked into his bedroom and apparated, arriving in his living room with a crack of thunder, startling Eli, who looked extremely fearful at the sight of his Master. He was sure to be displeased at all the strangers in his house.
“M-m-master,” the elf began, babbling.
Severus held a pale hand up.
“I already know, Eli,” he said to the elf. Then Eli saw the violin and his green eyes widened.
“You means to play the magic music, Master?” the elf asked him, excited.
Severus scowled at him.
“Possibly. But I am primarily here to help Hermione rid herself of these posers,” the dark wizard responded, reducing both bow and violin case and depositing them in separate pockets. Then he walked to the door leading down to the labs, pulled it opened and walked through.
Every eye looked up as the Potions Master swept down the stairs, scowling blackly at the group and walking through the lab door as if he owned the place.
“Hey!” some voices rose behind him.
Severus slammed the door in their faces, shocking both Hermione and the wizard with the oboe. He looked at the witch and felt his stomach clench with desire…but he covered it well. He was gratified to see however, that Hermione’s eyes heated up the moment she saw him. She too fought it back.
“Severus, what are you doing here?” she asked the wizard as he dragged a chair over to the table and sat down next to her, his dark eyes resting on the oboe player.
“I am here to help you judge,” he said, “I know how the song should be played and am an actual musician. I can make better decisions than you.”
Hermione smiled at the wizard gratefully.
The oboe player looked disgruntled.
“Can I continue?” he asked with irritation in his voice. He was just falling into his groove when the tall, pale wizard entered.
“Go ahead,” Severus replied, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms. Hermione thought it wasn’t a very receptive position.
The oboe player began at the beginning. He had only played two measures when Severus said, “No.”
The wizard pulled the woodwind out of his mouth.
“What do you mean no? I hardly played a note,” he complained, his face reddening.
“And thank the gods for that,” Severus replied. “You don’t have the proper instrument or skill for this piece. Depart.”
The oboe player looked mutinous, and Severus’ face took on a darker mien as if to say…”Please give me a reason to hex you.”
”What about my two galleons?” the wizard asked, looking at Hermione pointedly. The witch avoided looking at Severus and pulled two galleons out of a bag resting on the table. A rather big bag. The Potions Master’s eyes narrowed.
“Is that MY money?” he asked the witch.
Hermione nodded.
“It’s part of the project. You said not to use my own money,” the witch said in a small voice.
Severus stared at the witch for a moment. He had a flashback of Hermione pinned against the tiled wall of the shower, soaked, her legs wrapped around his slippery waist and amber eyes glazed with passion as he fucked her. The wizard blinked and the witch was restored. His black eyes fell on the oboe player.
“Take it,” he said.
The wizard walked up and retrieved the coins. He looked as if he wanted to say something nasty, but the Potions Master’s eyes glinted at him warningly, and the wizard exited without a word.
Severus suddenly rose.
“Wait here,” he said to Hermione, exiting the lab and closing the door behind him.
Suddenly she heard a lot of grumbling and a couple of blasts. She rose from her chair and was about to go to the door when it opened and Severus walked back in, fixing his robes.
“Sit down,” he said to her imperiously. “I’ve just removed half of your applicants. Those with brass and woodwinds. They aren’t the proper instruments and I don’t want my galleons wasted. Strings. Only strings can began to capture the essence of that song, though I seriously doubt you will find your Harper this way.”
Hermione sat down, her face crestfallen. Severus found he didn’t like it, but there was little he could do. He wouldn’t give the witch false hope.
“Next!” he bellowed.
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A/N: Albus visiting Minerva…so sad…but inversely Minerva irritating the Dementor that held her soul was pretty funny. The Ministry Council is as asinine and prejudiced as ever. So, the Headmaster has gone to India. Interesting. And Severus avoided seeing Hermione thinking his lust would cool. Poor wizard. lol. But now he’s there…with his violin. Lol, I would hate to have him as a judge. He’s as bad as Simon on American Idol. Please review.