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Him Again	By : Apocalypticat Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 1312 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Minerva looked down at the child nestled in her arms and smiled. Despite this, the smooth pink body shuddered and she saw the sapphire eyes become shiny with tears. I must look awful, she thought distantly. Gently, she stroked one flawless cheek with a finger. Something ached dully inside her chest.

Once, she�d wanted to hold her own child and feel a vulnerable warmth that was half hers. She�d wanted it ever so much - had dreamed of it since her first crush and had still nursed the desire past the period in which it would have been possible. Lost children danced in the corners of her mind - children which were never created. It was both wonderful and terrible to hold the baby of a successful younger generation.

Weak fingers clutched at the material of her cloak. Her lips curved again and she snuggled the baby closer. It was then that she noticed that tears were wending their ways down the infant cheeks - but that no sound was emerging. The child was just staring up at her with vast pupils and a blank face, crying.

Her smile faded. Tears and silence were what she feared most.

Ginny made a small sound of maternal anxiety and extended her arms for her son. Minerva handed the baby over - and remembered its name - Brian. As Ginny tried to comfort him, she couldn�t help but say it aloud. The shock of it, and how it had caught her so unguarded, were impossible to quell.

�Brian,� she said, in a slightly hoarse voice. She gazed at Harry, hiding her trembling hands in her pockets.

The emerald eyes met hers. There was such a piercing intensity to Harry�s stare that she was suddenly afraid that he would somehow see and know everything about her - and then it would be impossible to continue being stern Professor McGonagall. She dismissed the thought when she remembered that Harry had never been a Leglimens, but it was still enough to make her uncomfortable.

�Brian,� said Harry, nodding slightly.

Something significant passed through the air between them. Minerva kept her face carefully inscrutable. Quite abruptly, she found herself imagining the expression on His face if He was still there to realise whom Harry had called the young Potter after. She forced away the image; there was no sense in aggravating the rush of emotion that had occurred when she�d made the connection.

�I don�t know what�s the matter with him�� muttered Ginny quietly, worriedly. Minerva saw her share a glance with her husband.

Puzzled and vaguely curious, the Headmistress looked more closely at Harry. She had never found Harry�s face very easy to read - to her, the emerald eyes were the only features that betrayed any real emotion - which was strange; many of her colleagues had always acted as though the boy - and now a man - was the most transparent person on the planet. Indeed, she could quite clearly recall Severus sneering in the staff room at the �Potter brat�s inability to quell or conceal the most basic of-�

Again, her mind had hit one of the walls inside her head. Things seemed to be getting worse; she had violated her thoughts twice now in one afternoon� It was too late; a small flame of anger had clenched one of her fists inside one of the pockets of her robes. She forced herself back to Harry - whose worry was just detectable by the very minute tightening of his lips�

�How many sugars do you take in your tea, Professor?� Harry was suddenly asking politely, and the moment had passed.

�None, but thank you,� she replied and Harry made a face.

She took the warm cup and sat down on the nearest sofa, and tried to ignore the large eyes that were gazing at her intently from Ginny�s arms. Minerva focussed on the tea and attempted to concentrate on the irrefutable present.

#

Weeks and months passed. Albus tried to combat the boredom by playing games inside his head - counting the cracks on the ceiling, trying to recall the answers to the various crossword puzzles he�d once been in the habit of doing and going over the more complex nuances of transfiguration. The first two months soon exhausted such dissatisfying exercises and he soon began chewing over memories and questions.

In the time leading up to his death, Albus had spent so much time thinking about the war and concentrating on the hefty problem of Voldemort, that it was hard not to fall back into the habit. More than once he found himself trying to estimate, for example, the alliances of the various members of the Wizengamot, before realising abruptly that Voldemort had been defeated, and that several of the Wizengamot had probably died. It was a very strange experience - the jolt felt was half pleasant and half terrible. He felt an immense curiosity about the whole thing: how had Voldemort been defeated? He had had several theories as to how it could be done and had obviously known that Harry would be the instrument of victory - but how had it happened, exactly? Harry had clearly destroyed the Horcruxes, but� how had he done so? How had he found the unidentified Horcruxes? How had the final battle against Voldemort had taken place? How had Harry won, when Voldemort�s magical power had been infinitely superior, even when matched against the �power he knew not?�

The matter of Snape�s betrayal was the hardest thing to contemplate. Albus felt a bitter anger at himself for allowing himself to be blinded by Snape�s (he found himself abhorring the name Severus) façade and for ignoring Harry�s warnings. He had preached trust, whilst refusing to trust someone he loved. How could that be justified?

As for Snape himself! You betrayed yourself. You betrayed your own reasoning, your own feelings, your own soul. You betrayed, above all, Lily�s memory.

He only felt appreciative of his new life when with Harry. Harry quite obviously loved the son he thought he had, and Albus did his best to live up to his new father�s wishes. It was Harry�s hands that guided �Brian� as he stumbled and took his first steps. It was Harry who walked around the house with him, playing a primitive form of hide-and-seek.

Ginny boasted to her friends of her �little angel.� �He never cries, you know. A little star. But give him a toy and he�ll just stare at you as though he doesn�t see the point.�

Gradually, he was learning to control his new body. He had the feeling of simply re-learning an old skill which he hadn�t used in a while and it was something to do to pass the time. Occasionally, he tried to speak - but that particular part of his body, to his frustration, simply would not obey him. Coordination of the tongue, gums and lips all at once was still difficult; the only sounds he could produce were gurgling noises. However, for the sake of the truth, he continued to try - and seemed to get slightly closer each time.

�Haaoorr. Haorreee. Hahhhhrrr.�

Right now, the subject of his efforts was at work, and his �mother� - a thought that shook him whenever it came to him - was humming to herself in the kitchen. It brought back memories of Maria Dumbledore, who had also hummed whilst making the dinner - his father had called her his �bumblebee.� He had taken the opportunity to get away and had crawled into the dining room, to practise.

He swallowed and stared up at the mantelpiece, on which sat a photo of Harry and Ginny at their wedding, smiling and dancing to music only they could hear. It recalled the photo of James and Lily and he felt himself smile unconsciously before beginning.

�Haooorrr. Haaaooorrre.�

Determination flared in him. He had to do this; he owed Harry and Ginny the truth, no matter how painful it was! Albus had learnt from the mistake he�d made during Harry�s fifth year and would never repeat it.

�Haaooorreee.�

Perhaps - perhaps if he learnt to speak, he would be able to talk to Minerva himself and ask her what was wrong.

�Haaweee. Hahwee.�

Albus blinked. The sound was recognisable as being Harry�s name. Maybe now�

�Hahwee. Ieem Allbuhsh Duhmballdooorr.�

Excitement surged through him. Somehow, at last, he was remembering! The words were slurred and distorted, but one could know them for what they were. When Harry came back from work, if he could get the pair of them alone and�

Albus�s enthusiasm faded. The physical rudiments had indeed arrived, but there were still the question as to how to tell Harry and Ginny. How would he phrase it? Where would he begin? Was it even possible to deliver such news gently? Ginny�s horrified and shocked face swam before him: she�d given birth to her headmaster! And Harry� His thoughts stalled; Harry�s reaction was impossible to fathom and unbearable to think about. It was all very well calling a child after someone who was dead, but it was definitely not acceptable for the said deceased to actually turn out to be that child.

In spite of what Harry had said earlier, it was still obvious to Albus that he would not be welcome. Even Sirius, he mused, would not be quite so welcome now - not years after he�d died, after the war had ended, not after Harry had had such a hard time getting over his grief. Albus tried to put himself in Harry�s shoes - how would he feel if his headmaster turned up as his child? Horrified, he thought. Devastated.

The comparison wasn�t exactly fair, though. Albus�s relationship with his headmaster had never been as warm as his relationship with Harry had been, and it had eventually descended into outright hostility. Harry and he had been close; he could even be pleased that� But no. He swept the thought aside. It was the concept that was important, not the who.

The child that was Albus Dumbledore gave a small sigh and rocked back on its heels. Harry would be back in a few hours, and then it would all come out.

#

Poppy Pomfrey�s hands were folded primly on her lap and her mouth was pursed with disapproval. Rolanda Hooch stood next to her, her face twitching with the expression of anger that was threatening to overcome it and her hands on her hips. Poppy�s eyes kept flicking to Rolanda with a look that was half warning and half sympathy before turning back to rest sternly upon their target.

A lesser woman would have quailed under the looks the pair were giving her - but Minerva McGonagall was not among the ranks of these lesser women, and so simply gazed back at them. Her face gave away nothing of the turmoil inside her at the sight of the school matron and the flying instructor united in their quest to force her - if necessary, physically frogmarch her - into enjoying herself. Evidently, the unspoken message which Minerva had been projecting to the pair for the last few years had failed to breach Poppy�s walls of concern or batter through Rolanda�s spurned mental Beaters. Neither of them understand anything, she thought sadly.

�There are guests waiting for you,� said Poppy, with a slight inflection on �waiting� that nobody missed. �Rolanda organised it especially.�

�I apologise, but these forms will not sign themselves,� Minerva replied, gesturing at the papers on her desk. The office had been mercifully silent before Poppy and Rolanda had entered and now they were there, guilt was tearing at her like a mad thing. It�s not a lie, she thought a little desperately. These papers do need doing.

�Surely it is not necessary for them to be done now,� said Rolanda stiffly. �Not this minute, this hour, this very afternoon.�

�I�m falling behind. The school�s affairs are a priority, Rolanda.�

�And the party I arranged isn�t?�

There was a nasty silence. Minerva dropped her eyes to the parchment and focussed on her own signature in an attempt to blot out Rolanda�s hurt tone. Her signature embodied all that used to be, should be, Minerva McGonagall. The letters was neat and well-formed but the end of the �g� was sharp and defiant.

�How very like you,� she remembered Rolanda saying once, when they were younger, closer. �All demure and perfect - and then your temper flares.�

�Is that was I�m supposed to say to the people waiting downstairs?� the present-day Rolanda snapped. �Should I go down and say, �I�m sorry, you are not deemed to be the Headmistress�s main priority today?��

�Rolanda,� said Poppy, and the flying instructor�s jaw clamped shut whilst the matron assumed a professional stance. She looked Minerva up and down. �It is not healthy to shut yourself away. Your last health assessment worried me, Minerva. You are losing both weight and sleep. I would advise that you came down and got some fresh air and good company.�

�I appreciate your concern, Poppy, but we can all expect such things as health to decline with age. Today is the day I turn seventy-eight, not twenty-one. I should think it is hardly appropriate for women of my age to go frolicking about at a party.�

Rolanda gaped her and shook her head slowly, apparently half-stunned. �What�s happened to you? The old Minerva McGonagall wouldn�t have been happy to �decline with age!��

Sparks of anger stirred behind the sadness. Didn�t either of them understand? She wanted to be left alone! �The old Minerva McGonagall was younger and probably more foolish.� She was tempted to say that the old Minerva McGonagall was dead, but there was no need to make a simple audience with two staff members into a display of dramatics.

�What happened to you? What�s changed?�

�Will you not confide in us anymore, Min?� asked Poppy softly.

�Where�s the Minerva McGonagall who made a laughing-stock of Umbridge? Where�s the Minerva McGonagall who took five Stunners in the chest and whose first words upon waking were to swear she�d throw the old toad off the Astronomy Tower? What happened to the Minerva McGonagall who helped bring down Grindelwald? I ask - where is she? Because she�s certainly not the woman sitting before me today.�

Minerva winced and agreed. The Minerva Rolanda was talking about sounded like a completely different person. She clenched her fists.

�I would ask certain members of staff not to behave like rowdy students.�

Poppy�s face went as rugged as a cliff-face. Rolanda gaped again and stared as the woman sitting at the desk as though she couldn�t believe her eyes. When she spoke, it was in a rather strained voice.

�When since have I been a �member of staff?� Is this Professor Hooch you�re talking to?�

Minerva�s knuckles cracked. �I should hope so, unless you are suffering from some sort of personality disorder - in which case, you should consult my colleague next to you.�

Instantly, she wanted to go back in time and snatch the words out of the air. Rolanda�s eyes were moist and Poppy�s firm façade had suddenly given way. She seemed older, and suddenly diminished.

��Colleague?�� she repeated. ��Colleague?��

�Forgive us,� choked out Rolanda. �But we were under the impression that we were your friends - no matter how much you�ve tried to shove us away!�

The Headmistress found she had lost the ability to speak. Bile at herself crawled up her throat. She saw herself suddenly, as if from miles away: a cold, cruel woman hiding in her office, hurting whoever dared enter. Was that truly what she�d become?

She began to apologise but the flying instructor cut her off with a wave of the hand. �My apologies, Headmistess. We�ll go now.�

It was like a slap across the face - a slap which she deserved. Headmistess! No, nobody saw Minerva anymore; it was just the Headmistress, Professor McGongall, a face defined by her role. Her two ex-best friends stalked out of the room - and she realised she�d lost them. That was it. They�d finally got the message that she wanted to be left alone - and now she was. She balled her knuckles into her eyes and cried.

Meanwhile, Rolanda and Poppy waited until they had entered the relative privacy of the Hospital Wing before turning to each other with looks of dismay. Rolanda�s eyes overflowed. The sight of the wreck of her friend spurning her had cut her to the core. Again and again, the scene replayed: the skeletal woman at the desk, with shadows under her weary eyes and a gaze that would not fully meet theirs, speaking curtly - harshly, even - as if they had not grown up at Hogwarts together at all, but were mere acquaintances. She gulped as her remaining friend patted her on the back.

�I�ve had enough,� said Poppy in an uncharacteristically strident voice. �We�ve got to get to the bottom of this. I refuse to believe that she meant anything she said in that office.�

�We�ve got to bring back Minerva,� agreed Rolanda, wiping her eyes.

#

It had all gone wrong.

Harry was gasping; the air seemed to catch in his throat and not reach his lungs. Reality was a contrast of light and dark - like his life - and there was only the Veil, only the Veil in the whole world. His forehead stabbed with the ghost of pain. He clutched at it, but hands seemed to be holding him, pushing him down-

Voldemort! Yes, that was it, Voldemort and the Killing Curse-

He struggled. He thought he could hear Ginny sobbing, but that was impossible; he was in the Department of Mysteries and she was at home-

Harry gasped. The image pasting itself before his eyes was intolerable, unbearable. The curtain swung back - again and again - and he was calling but Remus was stopping him, stopping him from helping-

�SIRIUS!� he screamed - but the iron grey eyes were blank and empty, and the Veil had engulfed the whole universe.

Now Voldemort was before him, red eyes livid with fury. Rage swept the fear aside. I�ll get you, I�ll get you for all this - you killed my parents-

He could hear their screams and cries again, just like he had with the Dementors. A hook-nosed man now stalked towards him. Snape! He tried to bring his wand up but the hands were still holding him down-

-Dumbledore was falling from the Astronomy Tower, his body curving away from the ghost-green of the Dark Mark, which cried its message of death to the stars - and now he was lying in the grass, his spectacles knocked askew, the blue eyes as vacant as Sirius�s-

�COWARD!� Harry shrieked at Snape but Snape had disappeared. There was darkness and peace. Perhaps I�m asleep, thought Harry.

But no, Voldemort was back again, his wand pointing at Harry�s heart. Avada Kedavra. Harry knew he was going to die - but the statue took the curse instead and hope flared in his chest at the sight of-

�DUMBLEDORE!� he cried - but no, Snape had killed him-

�COWARD, COWARD, COWARD! YOU KILLED HIM, I�LL KILL YOU!�

The hands grabbed at him more tightly. Ginny�s tears were flowing down her beautiful face. Sirius was falling through the Veil again - and now Voldemort was too, but that didn�t change anything-

Harry covered his eyes and moaned. �Peace, peace, please Merlin, peace! No more!�

Harry�s body convulsed. The bedroom was full of the sharp, panicked cries of Healers as they struggled to hold him down. Ginny sat on the bed and wept. Remus handed her a box of tissues, wordlessly. He spun around as Tonks burst in.

�What happened?�

Tonk�s hair had turned as grey as ash to reflect her misery. �Amycus - we were pursuing him through the Ministry - it was a break-in. Harry and the rest of us chased him down in the Veil room and Amycus - he blew one of the new recruits through the Veil.� Her face twitched. �And Harry - Harry just l-lost it.�

Remus turned pale. �Too many memories,� he whispered.

Outside the shut door, Brian Potter - Albus Dumbledore - leant against the wall, his young body trembling. He was glad he wasn�t in the room, watching Harry fit and sob, but the sounds were more than enough.

�SIRIUS!�

That first, tortured shout had been what had woken him up from his afternoon nap. The second shout - �COWARD!� - had been what made him unhitch the side of his cot and clamber out into the hallway. He closed his eyes and covered his face. A nightmare - Harry�s nightmare - had swallowed the whole house.

�DUMBLEDORE! COWARD, COWARD, COWARD! YOU KILLED HIM, I�LL KILL YOU!�

His own name had acted like some sort of bodybind. Paralysis had ensured he�d heard all of Harry�s shouts. A part of him wanted to go in and wrap Harry in his arms. My boy, my boy, I�m here-

Albus felt numb. The truth would destroy Harry; he knew it now.

�Peace, peace, please Merlin, peace! No more!�

He buried his head in his hands. Peace, indeed. Harry would have peace. No more. It was what he wanted too.
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Him Again