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[May. 4th, 2009|11:37 am] |
Albus knew that Voldemort wasn't gone. Oh, Tom Riddle was gone for now, but even as a lad the boy had more plans and plots then most grown men did. Tom was waiting, biding his time for something to happen, and when it did happen, it would be big. Dumbledore stroked Fawkes' plumage, his hand moving down the birds neck as he considered. So many things had happened since Voldemort was supposed to be gone, it seemed like it had been years when it had only been a few short months.
Hogwarts was quiet now, it was all long shadows and sleeps. Winter had tucked it in at last, and if he looked out the window of his office, he would see the grounds coated in white. There was something about a good snow that had always made him retrospective, and he was especially feeling it tonight. A letter had been started, and it was sitting on the desk in front of him, half finished. The words were looked over his crescent glasses, and he wondered if perhaps he should have made this offer long ago, instead of waiting for Michael Potter to become injured.
He remembered Michael Potter as the brilliant boy who was polite and yet bored. Albus had wanted to keep him at Hogwarts long enough to instill in him something that would protect him from Lord Voldemort's winning ways. Tom would see a kinship with Michael Potter, there was no doubt about that, but he had hoped that if he was kept safe here at Hogwarts, then the concept of being on the right side would be enough to protect him once he was outside. It worked; Michael had become the top auror at the ministry, and now he was going to offer the man another job where he could do just as much good, if not more: the Defense Against the Dark Arts professorship.
It was sad how it was coming to this, though. Everyone had heard the story about how Michael had been shot, and he had heard the details about how it had been dark magic which had influenced her to do so. Sebastian had informed Albus of all of this as if he didn't already have the insider information. Albus had been worried about Thomas Potter; and he was reminded of his thought that he should have gotten closer to the boy, especially if he had his father's talent. Any thought of closeness had been taken however, by the war that was being raged, and especially by the losses and betrayals within the Order.
Dumbledore's thoughts turned, not for the first time or for the last, to Sirius Black. He had thought about the man often since Halloween, and even more so since Wicca had been writing to him in an effort to try and get Black a trial. He agreed with her, Sirius Black should have a trial, but the fact that Albus himself had given evidence that two days before James had informed him of Sirius being his secret keeper... that it probably wouldn't change anything. And now Wicca had been thrown off her job, and was living with Michael Potter. Funny how all of these things connected.
He sat up, after a moment, and picked up the sugar quill again, touching the feathered tip to his lips. The parchment was brushed briefly, and he started once more.
Michael,
I have heard that you are planning on retiring from the Auror department. Have you considered teaching? Come and have tea with me. How's tomorrow at four?
Warm Wishes,
Albus Dumbledore.
There, this note was much shorter and more to the point, and that worked better somehow. The note was sealed with his symbol, and he attached it to Fawkes' leg, sending him to find Michael at Wicca Bridgewater's flat. |
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