A Different Kind of Magic--UNDERGOING EDIT

All things Harry Potter and its fandom belong to JK Rowling and the gang. I do not own it or make any money from monkeying with the nuts and bolts of it all.

A/N: Here are some explanations you all have been waiting for along with readying ourselves for the next stage in our journey. A warning is noted here for self-mutilation, for those of you with a weaker constitution. Reviews are welcomed and encouraged!

A/N #2: With response to reviews, I've had correspondance that Minerva and Remus are a bit OOC. I have taken liberty with Remus' character in this story and he is a bolder, more quick to arouse his temper type of person. Later in the story I will reveal a reason behind the animosity between him and Snape, and there are other events that affect him dramatically. Minerva is really in over her head with the entire situation and her ideals are being convoluted. Hopefully that clears things up a little. Feel free to contact me directly at ladydagger27@yahoo.com if you want more background info.


Chapter 24 ¬– Making Arrangements


“I assure you, Miss Longbottom. In his roundabout way, Professor Snape’s apology was sincere.”

“Did he really refer to himself as a greasy, well, you know…”

“Bastard? Yes, he did, at least that’s what Poppy told me.” Minerva chuckled. “It is his way of taking the blame. He is a proud man, Ava. It is easier for him to apologize through me than directly to someone. Pride. Stubbornness. Surely you know how men are.”

Ava glanced sidelong at Remus.

He put up both hands. “Hey! Don’t look at me! I never act like a git!”

“I seem to recall, just a week ago my defense professor and deputy headmaster, showing up in my office under the influence of what I assume was Madam Rosmerta’s Firewhisky. A strong batch it was, too. You two reeked to the high heavens.”

“Point made, Minerva. Don’t rub it in.”

Ava bit her nails and looked at the floor. “Well, since he’s apologized, I’ll go back down there, but only for Miss Granger’s sake. I don’t know how she can stand him. He made it seem like we were becoming friends. He took a real interest in my arts education, and even talked of showing me some books when he was better.”

Lupin gave her arm a squeeze. “Don’t take it personally. He’s always been like that.”

“Professor Lupin is quite right, Ava. It’s just his way when he is stressed. Everyone around him pays the price. Pay him no mind.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” Remus inquired.

“No, I’ll be fine. Thank you for relaying the message, Minerva. I think I understand him a little better now.”

“Be a good girl and run along then. Make sure you bring Hermione’s trunk down with you. I took the liberty of giving her my old one, since we don’t know what happened to her personal property after the destruction of the Manor. You can help her transfigure a new wardrobe to take with her to the Weasleys, and I’ve put some things in there I think she will enjoy.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What about Professor Snape?”

“What about him, Professor Lupin?” Minerva looked at Remus questioningly.

“What has become of his personal possessions?”

“When he left for the Dark Lord, I had his belongings packed and stored in the Room of Requirement. There hasn’t been time to go through them, and he had no heirs, so everything is untouched. I will escort him there personally to pack when we have gone over his options.”

He nodded. “Well, I have an afternoon detention with my students, if you ladies will excuse me.”

“Yes, good day, Remus. I shall see you in the Great Hall for dinner, Miss Ava.”

“Thank you, Headmistress.”

--

Saturday afternoon was tense when Ava finally Floo’ed in to check on her two patients. She squeaked when the professor grabbed her arm and demanded, “What the hell is Rabastan Lestrange doing here? Has everyone gone completely mad?”

His eyes gleamed with a deadly coldness that sent shivers through her body. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hermione gesturing emphatically, trying to get Snape’s attention. He turned to her and barked “What?”

Hermione crossed her arms and pointed at Ava, making a cutting motion. Severus let her go and purposefully limped back to his bed, sitting down heavily. His teeth were gritted with the effort it took not to throttle the information out of her.

Ava advanced to Hermione’s bed and sat on the edge, rubbing her arm where he had squeezed it. “I accept your apology, Professor,” she began.

“What? Oh, yes, sorry about all that,” he muttered, looking away.

Ava looked at Hermione, who merely shrugged, nonplussed. Taking that as her cue, she pressed on. “Hasn’t anyone told you what’s going on?” she inquired.

Hermione shook her head. Snape was simply irritated beyond all reason. “Do you think I’d be fucking asking if we knew what the hell was going on?” he grated.

“If you’re going to swear at me, I’ll just leave you in the dark,” she sniffed and rose to leave.

“No! No ¬– please stay. I just… hate… not being in control,” he finished lamely, ashamed as hell at having to make the admission.

Ava crossed over to his bed and sat next to him, not touching, but lending her reassurance with her presence. “Remus told me you both were going to be accepted back into the Order.”

Severus snorted, but was otherwise silent.

“Minerva has plans for you. Please do as she says. I really would like to see you two get back to normal as quickly as possible.”

“Normal? What the fu ¬– heck, is normal? Rabastan Lestrange holds the positions of Head of Slytherin, Potions master, and Deputy Headmaster. Since when is that normal?” His voice was rising again, but it couldn’t be helped. All of these surprises were giving him a headache.

Ava continued to remain calm; incredulous no one had bothered to tell them anything, but she was reluctant to tell them everything. “Rabastan is a trusted member of the Order,” she began quietly, but was interrupted by Snape’s roar of disbelief.

“You can’t be serious! He’s the worst low-life, lying snake in the grass that was ever shat from the bowels of Lord Voldemort himself! This has got to be some sort of sick joke!”

Ava was very serious when she turned to him. “This is not a joke, Professor. Rabastan worked as an undercover agent for Dumbledore, just as you did. He didn’t come to work for the Order until much later in the war, but he still did. There was an oath of loyalty sworn, and he was just as instrumental in the Dark Lord’s downfall as you were. The only difference was he was not found out, and you were.”

Shock was plain on both faces across from her in the palpable silence that followed. There was simply nothing to be said in light of that revelation.

“I’m not privy to all the details, but Rabastan was caught in a compromising position that Dumbledore helped him out of. The price was his loyalty to the Order. He was the only one who knew, and it was a good thing he kept it secret. Rabastan was under oath not to reveal the nature of his agreement. Needless to say, we were all shocked when Rabastan was posted here, and Albus let us in on the secret. It took quite a bit of convincing before Minerva believed Albus. Even then, she subjected Rabastan to a series of tests to prove his loyalty.

“We’re not sure quite how it happened, but after the war, the Ministry was moving on with things, helping with clean up, reparations to victims, hunting down rogue Death Eaters, et cetera. Over the course of months, a change seemed to happen, inexplicably, within the Ministry and Wizengamot. Innocent people began disappearing. Prominent members of government were replaced with no election. The board of Governors was dissolved, and the Minister put in sole control of Hogwarts appointments. The newspaper printed only articles in favor of the new government policies. Then the attacks on the Death Eater hospital facilities began. It’s still a mystery to us. Some death eaters, including Rabastan, were declared rehabilitated and placed in positions of authority within various Wizarding institutions.”

“How the hell are the parents of the children that attend here okay with all of this?”

Ava shrugged. “I don’t think they are. A lot has been glossed over; a huge publicity campaign was done on behalf of that same question and others about the release of these criminals. The Ministry claims to have irrevocably changed the thought processes of these people by some spell that was supposedly created, and a series of potions that keep them compliant to servitude. They justify the reintroduction of the Death Eaters with “serviceable skills” to Wizarding society because of the great losses we suffered on behalf of the Light. So many great witches and wizards have been killed; it has been impossible to fill in all the gaps. The public seems to have bought it. Even though enrollment is down sharply, the numbers are expected to pick up next fall, once things have calmed down. Rabastan says he was never subjected to any spells or potions. We can only assume the Ministry is lying through their teeth, but we don’t know why, obviously. It’s a good thing Rabastan’s on our side. There could have been someone really nasty sent here instead of him.”

Snape’s breathing was ragged as he digested all of this information. Rabastan was one of the good guys? It just didn’t compute. No. It couldn’t be! It was all a lie! He shook his head, trying to get a grasp, but it was no use. He slammed his fists into the side of the bed.

“Damn. Things have really gone to hell.”

“We’re still trying to figure out what’s going on, Professor. When Rabastan was placed here, it was with the understanding he was the Ministry’s eyes and ears here at Hogwarts. He’s been a real help with keeping an ear to the pulse of government. It’s not like we hear much, but sometimes we can at least get a feel for when something is brewing and steel ourselves for it, even if we don’t know what it is.”

“Did you have any indication as to the impending attack on the Manor?”

Ava shook her head. “We had no idea that was coming. I think Hermione’s note precipitated that. If we hadn’t come blasting the place to pieces, things could have turned out very different.”

“But, Rabastan fucking Lestrange?” He just couldn’t wrap his mind around it. “Ava, the man is a cold-blooded killer! He’s raped, tortured, and killed more people than your mind can fathom. There’s no way that bastard could ever be rehabilitated!”

“Should we think the same things of you, Professor?” the lithe girl next to him asked coldly.

His head snapped around to see a different side to this seemingly innocuous young lady. Her eyes were sharp and calculating, shrewdly evaluating him in the same manner as he had regarded her. Maybe there was more to this chit than met the eye.

“What are you talking about?” he snapped irritably. “I did what needed to be done for the sake of the greater good. It was all in the name of war.”

“Does that absolve you of guilt and condemnation? Should we all think you are guilty based on the presumption that once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater?”

“Rabastan Lestrange and I are two entirely different creatures, Miss,” he replied with venom. “To compare me to him is like comparing Albus to Voldemort.”

“It’s all a matter of perspective. One man’s salvation is another man’s downfall.”

She stood, looking down on him, clearly nonplussed by his protestations at being in a different league than someone she had worked closely with for months, despite her dislike for the current head of Slytherin.

“If you had come to know him as the Order has, you would not say such uneducated things about Rabastan. He has done as much for the Order, more than you possibly, than you can ever fathom. Lack of knowledge on the subject does not negate the fact his service existed and was tantamount to your achievements. His simply went unnoticed and undeservedly forgotten by even some of those who now know of his allegiance. I hardly think you to be a fair judge of character, considering you had it a fair sight better than him in many ways.”

With that, the conversation ended, and Ava flounced over to Hermione to begin transfiguring old clothes into beautiful new ones for Hermione’s new life. Their heads pressed together and hands held while they presumably communicated about clothing. He missed the small package Ava passed to Hermione that was slipped into a pocket of her gown.

Severus had nothing to say in reply to Ava’s last remarks. Every possible scathing retort had been continually ripped from his lips before they formed. If such a monumental undertaking had indeed co-existed right under his nose and without anyone’s knowledge, then he had a lot of self-contemplation to do. He had always prided himself on being a great judge of character. Clearly, the underpinnings of Rabastan’s personality were still there, as was evidenced by his show of prowess, cunning and foolish boasting. All of this had been right under his nose, this person he loathed, and he had never seen this other side of the man. It would not have been under Severus to do the same in return had situations been reversed; to get a dig in while an old rival was down on his luck, just he was at the moment. The fact remained – Rabastan had the trust and respect of the Order, and his own place was back to the bottom of the heap. It wouldn’t do to forget it. It had taken a slip of a girl to take him down a notch. Maybe Lupin was onto something with this annoying wench. Not unlike Granger, he could see how she would get under the skin after awhile.

Severus sighed and settled himself into his armchair by the fireplace, with a cuppa hot black tea that would curl the nose hair on any other self-respecting individual. He listened to the rustling and clatter of the young women across the room with half an ear, oblivious to the transfiguring spree going on.

The two girls had a great time, with Hermione able to gingerly try on the clothing with the help of Ava’s wand. They made sure there were plenty of daily, practical items, but some of them were downright ridiculous, in Snape’s opinion. The transfiguring went on for a good two hours and was really wearing on his nerves by that point.

“Would you keep it down, I am trying to read! I don’t know how two girls, one of whom cannot speak, can make so much noise transfiguring bloody clothing!” he bellowed for the fourth time.

Hermione ignored him as she twirled in front of him. Ava said, “Hermione wants to know what you think of this one, Professor.”

“It’s Severus, and I think it’s asinine to think flowing sleeves will be practical in any manner at all.”

Ava snorted and playfully plucked the book from his hands. “You wouldn’t know beautiful if it smacked you in the face, would you, Professor Snape?”

Severus was trying very hard not to lose his patience with these two. “It’s Severus, Miss Longbottom. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. One does not have to strut about like a peacock to appear beautiful. Looks are not everything. If there are no brains behind the beauty, then it is empty and means nothing.”

Hermione smacked the stone into one of his hands. Way to wax philosophical, Severus. We just wanted your opinion.

She turned to Ava and gave her the stone in turn. Give him his book back and let him be a stuffy bore. I want to see what else Minerva put in the trunk for me to bring.

“Here’s your book, Severus. It’s Ava, not Miss Longbottom, as long as we are all on a first name basis.” The girls went back to their transfiguring and digging in the trunk.

Severus desperately wanted to snatch Ava’s wand out of her hand and somehow wish his magic back. It was tearing him apart not to not even be able to do wandless magic. He had tried three times to perform Legilimency on Hermione, and nothing had happened. He had even been unable to block Potter. What kind of life waits for me with no magic?

Snape wanted to rage, shout, and destroy the room. He felt like wiping the joy off the faces of those around him, and erasing it from the world altogether. Misery threatened to overtake his every waking moment. Even darker clouds hovered on the morrow; he hoped to simply survive the transition, and considered committing a crime to take the choice away from any of them. It was all too much.

As he was wont to do, when the storm clouds of despair washed over him, Severus shut out the world around him, laid down on his bed, and took a short afternoon kip, hoping it would calm his spirits and refresh his outlook before spending the evening with Hermione.

Ava left shortly after Severus dropped off, and the two girls hugged each other effusively. When the smaller girl was gone, Hermione glanced sideways at the tousle-haired man on the opposite bed to make sure he was asleep. She furtively crept into the loo and closed the door, locking it firmly behind her. The little packet in her pocket felt like a stone against the thin cotton gown. It rested there like a venomous scorpion, ready to strike when she reached in to retrieve it.

Of course, no such thing actually happened. It was plainly wrapped in parchment with a single silk ribbon tied in a bow. A twinge of guilt tugged at Hermione’s heart at having to lie to Ava about the real use of this bit of metal. Severus claimed that having a house-elf shave him was akin to wearing ill-fitting robes. It sufficed, but was not comfortable.

She gingerly unwrapped the parcel and placed three Muggle razor blades on the sink. One she would keep for Severus; that, at least, would give him the option of using it, even though she doubted he would. It would also cover her real intent for the other two. With shaking hands, she settled herself on the stool and gripped one of the blades in her right hand. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut tight, a tear squeezing past her lashes, noiselessly absorbing into her gown.

The only thing she could see in her mind was Brian and the damage he had done. How she wished now she had begged Harry to Obliviate her when she had the chance. She couldn’t bear to tell any of the others what had happened. Severus knew, but he comforted her. Oh, God. She had sex with him. How could he still want her after knowing what had happened to her? Maybe that’s all she was good for now. To be used by those who would have her. If her suffering could bring another person happiness, there was no point in denying that person, was there? What was the point in wishing away the memories, in willing the pain to cease? None. It made her dead inside, shameful and disgusted with herself for being weak. She had been unable to save Deidre, unable to stop Brian. Hell, she had been at the fucking facility for months and never suspected a thing. Brightest witch of her age, her ass. More like gullible, pathetic, and useless.

The blade gleamed dully in the low light. Here was another coward’s way out. Self-inflicted pain was the only way she could think of to punish herself for the weakness she had shown. It would enable her to maintain some control over the shame and guilt. She deserved this, and it had to be done. A soft sob erupted from her lips as she brought the blade to her wrist and held it there. Pulling back the blade, she turned her head to the side and gasped when she pulled it across the pale skin.

Bright red blood spurted from her wrist in a shower against the opposite wall. Hermione open her eyes, her mouth felling into an ‘O’ with shock that she had actually done it. As if of its own accord, her hand and the blade moved further up her arm and made four more slices, each quite evenly measured, all the way up to the crux of her elbow. The blood from those cuts merely travelled in dull rivulets down her arm, over her fingers, and onto the floor. Quite a puddle was gathering by now, and Hermione looked down to try and see her reflection.

It was an odd sensation to see her own life source pouring out of her. The clatter of the blade onto the floor didn’t even register. A sense of calm washed over her, making her feel a bit high. She was floating above herself, watching herself looking at the growing pool of blood with blank disinterest. The body of Hermione below her made a sound that sounded oddly like ‘Dobby,’ like she was picking up where a conversation had left off only moments earlier.

A house-elf appeared beside her, the little chap’s eyes bugging out of his head. In a rare display, the funny creature muttered some words and the wounds on the arm were gone. Another flick of his funny little fingers and the floor of the loo was sparkling. The macabre magic show beneath her was neither frightening nor amusing. She felt nothing at all. The house-elf called Dobby turned around and looked at the disembodied Hermione hovering right above him. He bared his teeth at her and held up the physical Hermione’s hand.

“Miss best be getting back in her body. Dobby does not know why Miss wants to hurt herself. It is time for Miss to go back to bed.”

With a snap, Hermione was once more looking through her own eyes. She gazed dully at Dobby and nodded once. Her eyes pleaded with him.

“Please don’t tell, Dobby. Promise me.”

His solemn look was one of pity and sadness. “Dobby does not wish for Miss to hurt herself. It is a very grave thing you have done. Dobby must tell.”

As if enough tears hadn’t fallen, a fresh batch began to course down her cheeks. She begged him, sliding off the stool and onto her blood-drenched knees. “They have no idea what it feels like. No one can understand the burden I carry. I don’t want to hurt anyone else, Dobby. This is the only way I can let go of the pain and carry on with my life. Please let this be the one thing you do for me. I promise not to take it too far. I just couldn’t bear it if anyone else knew. Please, Dobby, please?”

His eyes opened and closed slowly for a few minutes before he replied. Hermione bowed her head, her body wracked with sobs. When she looked up, Dobby was holding out a vial of Blood-Replenishing potion for her. She gratefully accepted it and drank swiftly.

“Dobby will keep this one secret for Miss, although it gives Dobby great sadness to see Miss in such a state. There will be no more secrets I can keep for Miss. This one weighs heavy on the heart of Dobby.”

Hermione took his tiny hands in hers and thanked him profusely. With a snap, her gown was pristine, and the elf was gone. She quickly gathered the two blades she claimed as her own and wrapped them in the parchment once more.

Slipping them into her pocket, she rose from the floor of the loo and tried, without success, to wipe the tearstains from her cheeks. She opened the door to the bedroom and was face-to-face with Severus Snape.

--

“Come in.”

Rabastan entered the headmistress’s office and seated himself across from her.

“Tell me, Rabastan, how did your meeting go today with Senior-Undersecretary Umbridge?”

The enormous brute adjusted his voluminous robes around the chair before he addressed the headmistress.

“I need to bring her something; information that will keep her satisfied for a while. Umbridge doesn’t think I’m doing my job when I come back and have nothing to report to the Ministry. The time she spent here puts me at a disadvantage. She already knows a great deal about the school, so it’s not like I can just lie to her outright. There is a lot on the line, Minerva. They’re not suspicious of me, but you know how that can change on a knut.”

Minerva considered his words carefully. Long fingers tapped the desk while she contemplated her next course of action.

“Plan an outing with some seventh year students. Make it part of the N.E.W.T.s. Take them to Wales for a rare flower that blooms this time of year. Severus always used to go alone, but I believe he kept detailed notes of his journeys. I will provide you with a copy of the location, and you can use that as an excuse to tell Dolores you believe the trip may serve a dual purpose. It is near a prison the Ministry is keeping for those who were supposedly responsible for some of the attacks on their so-called medical facilities. A holding arena, if you will; double-speak for torturing people without needing to follow Wizarding law or being accountable to anyone else, without regard to extracting information from the poor souls. It makes me sick!”

“What makes you think Umbridge will be interested in this tidbit?” He frowned, his scar making the gesture seem ominous. “I don’t think it’s wise to bring the students that close to their facility. It’s got a pretty bad rap, even around the lower level employees that don’t hear much. Who’s to say they won’t take us all in for questioning? Seems pretty risky to me.”

The older witch stroked her wizened chin with her long nails. “Well, Dolores can hardly have our Hogwarts students stumbling on her precious facility, now can she? As you are already aware of where the actual Ministry facilities are at, I fully expect you to keep the students out of harm’s way. It’s the best plan I have to keep her distracted while we look for the second scroll.”

“I’ll make sure to keep them well clear of the facility, but if I catch one whiff of danger to them, I’m going to Port Key us all back here right then and there.” He practically growled at the dangerous suggestion, not at all approving of the headmistress’ odd disregard for the safety of the students and Order members at times.

“What news of the second scroll?” If Minerva recognized his disapproval of her orders, she didn’t show it.

Rabastan snorted rudely. “The Minister and Umbridge have kept information about the scrolls under wraps since the first meeting. They figured out someone was listening. They don’t suspect me, but made mention of the door to Umbridge’s office being left open. I must have not closed it all the way when I had to Floo back to Hogwarts, before I was discovered listening in on their conversation.”

“It was a good thing you were able to secure a copy of the first scroll for us before they transferred it to Gringotts. Goodness knows we’d still be in the dark without your help, Rabastan. I will forever be in your debt for the valuable information you are securing for the Order.”

Rabastan cleared his throat uncomfortably. “You know I don’t like to discuss it, Headmistress McGonagall.”

“Yes, yes, I’m sorry. The fact remains, we are in your debt.”

“Not that, ma’am, the scrolls. The whole thing stinks, if you ask me. The fact remains, regardless of what the Ministry is up to, it’s just good to be out of Azkaban. When I heard Albus had died, I was deeply aggrieved. It was extremely difficult to keep the Dark Lord and then the Inquisitors out of my head. I’ll never forget what they did to my brother, bastard that he was.”

Minerva feigned compassion for her most useful Order member.“I am deeply sorry for the loss of your brother. We all lost people dear to us in the war.”

Rabastan played into her false sympathy, unaware just how little she really did care for his welfare when it came to an end result. “It was my wish to tell him about my service to the Order. We knew we were going to die in Azkaban. I shared a cell with him. He wanted nothing more than to escape as Sirius had done years before, and join Yaxley on the outside. He thinks Yaxley went into hiding, but no one’s heard from him since the final battle. We often wondered if Yaxley was an unregistered Metamorphagus. He never said anything about it if he was. Anyhow, before my brother could come up with a plan, he was interrogated and killed. I will never forgive Shacklebolt for that, no matter what my brother did for the Dark Lord. We all did what we had to do to survive. It was dog-eat-dog in those days. My brother died at the hands of a coward.”

His head bowed at the memory. The silence remained for so long he was startled by Minerva’s next question.

“I want to know why you disobeyed a direct order and went to the dungeon without my permission.”

Rabastan sat in stunned silence, a frown forming on his face, making his scar pull in opposition to his lip in a grotesque grimace. How had they gone from discussing his brother to his trespass into the dungeon? The witch was off her rocker. Wait, how did she know?

“My wards are set to recognize all who enter or leave the dungeon where they are kept. I demand to know why you were down there.”

Well, that answered that question at least. He should have known better, but then again, he didn’t really care. Rabastan Lestrange would do as he damn well pleased in regards to his behavior toward Snape. “Severus Snape is a filthy cheat and a liar, Minerva!”

“So you felt it best to deliberately disobey me, to square away a personal grudge with my former Potions professor?”

“Ma’am, let me explain.”

“I will not, Rabastan! I can only imagine how you have flaunted your personal position and status with Severus. I am quite aware of your personal hatred for Professor Snape. I would wager he is in a right snit about your presence here. You have created more work for me now that I have to explain you to Severus and Hermione. Your behavior lately has been intolerable. I will not tolerate anymore petty bickering or antagonizing amongst my Order members or staff. Severus and Hermione are going to be a part of our efforts, whether you like it or not. Is that understood, Rabastan?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he grumbled reluctantly, wishing to hell he could get away with hexing her.

“I don’t care how loyal you have been to the Order. I will not hesitate to “arrange” to have you taken care of if you cross me.” Then her gaze softened a bit. “Try not to be so rough around the edges, Professor Lestrange. You and Severus are alike in more ways than you two will ever admit – proud, stubborn, private, imposing. At least he had the good sense not to act on foolish impulses as you do. I am also tired of hearing complaints about you harassing Miss Longbottom. She is not interested in you, Rabastan, so leave her alone!”

He was getting tired of her thinly veiled threats in regards to his behavior. She never carried through. If you aren’t going to shit, get off the pot was his own personal motto. Instead, he did his best to look sullen and reply,” Yes, ma’am. Is there anything else?”

“Please report back to the Ministry before next weekend. You can update me at our monthly Order meeting a week from tomorrow. You are dismissed.”

Rabastan left, and Minerva put her head in her hands. “Albus, how did you ever manage?”

The portrait laughed appreciatively. “Blind dumb luck. Now you know where all my wrinkles came from.”

“That’s not making me feel any better Albus.”

“I have full confidence in you my dear.”

“I wish I felt the same.”