13 June 1980 Who: Edgar and Dumbledore What: Edgar has started walking again, and the Headmaster pays him a visit When: 13 June, mid-afternoon Where: Dig's place still Rating: PG Status: Completed log.
Edgar was finally allowed up and about again. Moderately, at least. Dig had encouraged him to stand and start walking around the house a bit with a cane he'd been provided. He couldn't quite stand up straight, and that was probably a good thing considering when he tried he could feel the wound on his stomach in particular stretch uncomfortably. He limped around the place in a very ugly pair of pajamas that had been dug out of some time warp or another, paying visit to those of the Order who, like himself, were still recovering. He spoke briefly to Fabian again, then met baby Harry and chatted with James (whose lack of arm was a bit of a shock to see--or not see, really) and Lily. He lingered outside of the door where he was told Dorcas was, debating whether or not he should go in. He didn't like this, not knowing what state she was in, or whether or not she was going to be okay. He needed her to be okay.
He was interrupted from his thoughts and indecision by a hand on his shoulder. "Good afternoon, Edgar," Albus said quietly, with a nod to the younger man. "I'm glad to see that you are up and about. I apologize--I have not had the opportunity to return since the attack unfortunately for... a great number of reasons."
"Understandable, sir," Edgar replied, though he was still frustrated with Dumbledore for countless other reasons, most especially having left the country without so much as a rhyme or reason provided to Edgar. Certainly they were lucky to have Dig, but Dumbledore's leadership in the last six months or so had been greatly lacking and Edgar was tired of it. Things likes last Sunday couldn't happened again. Like he'd said to Fabian, they all very nearly been slaughtered.
"I'd like a moment of your time, if you're feeling up to it," Albus said, noting how the tenseness in Edgar's tone. Albus knew that he owed Edgar answers for his behavior when really he only had a few to provide. Now he was entirely overwhelmed by Aberforth's death--another sibling lost, more deserved guilt to carry--but knew that from here on out, the Order would have to take a much more direct approach to putting an end to the war. Voldemort wasn't playing any more games and it was more than time for Albus to wake up and smell the violence.
"Alright," Edgar agreed, and led Dumbledore back to his room where he perched tentatively on the edge of his bed. He didn't want to lie down again. "I want to tell you how frustrated I've been with everything, sir. Not just the attack, but... in the last few months. We've all felt that your leadership of this group is, quite simply, not there. I don't know if that's what you wanted to talk to me about, but it's certainly something that I want to talk about. It's unfair to the Order, and it's unfair to me, for you to piss about whenever you feel like it and leave me in charge of directing something you weren't bothering with in the first place. I'm not cut out for this, not yet."
Albus listened intently and sighed when Edgar stopped. He had come into the room, standing near the door after shutting it. "I know this," he answered. "I am sorry to have overlooked the Order as I have been. I don't have much to offer you in the way of explanations. But certainly I have seen that this war has changed considerably and that we can no longer be the same Order we began as."
Edgar snorted. "No. Hardly. And no offense, sir, but it's difficult for an apology to rectify the fact that you've been, in all honesty, useless to us in the last little while. Especially since Bagnold was killed. We did nothing to stop Lestrange from taking over the Ministry, nothing. Because no one except you is in a position to do that."
"Perhaps, but Hogwarts is--"
Edgar interrupted him. "No. Hogwarts is an institution that could've held its own in your absence. You could've appointed someone you trust to take over as Headmaster. This is the Ministry we're talking about, the governing body of society, and there's a bleeding Death Eater running it on You Know Who's behalf. I'm not asking for excuses, sir, or explanations, or whatever else you have ready to pacify me with. I'm looking for the same man who roped me into this fucking war with the promise of making a difference. Because sitting on my arse and waiting for direction isn't making a difference. Asking a 24 year old, inexperienced man to fill your shoes is a tall and impossible order. They don't want that and neither do I."
"I have no intention of leaving," Albus said after a quiet moment in which he surveyed Edgar and the younger man stared back unwavering with the eye not covered with bandages. "I realize that the tide has turned and that the result of restlessness was a trap that nearly killed you all. That did kill Aberforth. I take responsibility for this. And I apologize for putting you in a situation that you were not equipped to handle. I know you are capable of so much, Edgar, that I often forget you have your own limitations. An old man's mistake."
"An old man's oversight, more like," Edgar answered, getting more frustrated. "What are you going to do then, sir?" Edgar was tired of trying to make all the important decisions and setting expectations. He was resentful. Why should he even have to? "What should we be expecting here? Are we going to take action against these people and take the Ministry back? Are we going to show them the same tolerance they've shown us? Are we going to fight this war, or are we going to play peace-keepers? Because I think the time for non-violence has long passed."
"You're right," Albus replied. "Right now we are going to recover from what was set against us. Then... then we shall take more direct action. I swear it. They have tired of their games and puzzles and they have tired of us. We will take the Ministry. We will restore moral order. But as always, patience and--"
"Okay, no," Edgar interrupted again. "Patience, Albus? Really? After all that's happened, after your own brother has died, after Dorcas is still in a questionable state and James is missing an arm and Fabian has been quite literally whipped with dark magic, you're still telling me--us--to have patience? I'm fucking done with patience! I'm done with waiting for you to actually make a decision that concerns the greater good instead of yourself. I've honestly heard enough, sir."
"Edgar, it is not as easy as walking onto a battlefield with your head held high and your wits about you," Albus said. "There are many battles that we cannot win, even with the right amount of preparation. Either way, so many of you are still healing. So yes, patience. Patience and unity and dedication. You have given me that thus far. It has been six years, Edgar, please do not give that away in anger."
"I'm not giving anything away. I'm not done with this war and I won't be until it's over or I'm dead, whichever comes first. I'm not talking about the Order. I'm not talking about the war. I'm talking about you, sir," Edgar inhaled deeply. He wasn't ready for this conversation, not as much as he thought he was when he started it. It was what Albus needed to hear, but Edgar still hurt and felt exhausted and he was still endlessly worried about the state Dorcas was in. He felt lost, and the lack of direction, the seemingly empty promises, were doing nothing. "I think you should leave, sir. We can finish this conversation later. I'll try and be patient in the meantime, however."
Albus didn't say anything. He knew he had let down Edgar, and the rest of the Order, and that he had a great deal to make up for. First, however, there were the preparations for Aberforth and the closing of the school. Then perhaps he could focus. He opened the door and left Edgar and the angry silence hanging between them at Ed's dismissal. He spoke to Dig for a few moments before leaving the house and returning to the castle.
Edgar sat in his room for a little longer, rubbing his good eye with the palm of his hand. After a while he got up and set to walking around again, wanting to stop in to see Caradoc, and maybe, if he could, Dorcas. He would have to talk to Pepper.