Her palm pressed to the door jamb as she watched Albus struggle with the final remains of his potion induced sleep. She knew the power of certain words to cut through even the deepest of sleep and with Albus, it was the inherent magic in the words, nothing that could be tested nor anything that Perenelle wished to test. It simply was and it was one of the few magics in this world that she didn't wish to dissect. Some part of her would always remain a romantic.
"He's woken." Perenelle repeated her words slowly, carefully. "A team of healers is with him now." She moved quickly, belying her years, as Albus began his trek toward the door. Not asking, she reached for his hand and clasped it tightly in her own as much a motion of reassurance was it was steadying. "Come," not that he needed that particular suggestion. "He asked for you."
Squeezing the hand she held tightly, Perenelle steered them toward the now bustling room just down the hall.