June Week

Chapter 4: Surcease From Sorrow

It was strange, Minerva reflected, how her Hogwarts education had taught her so much and so little at the same time. She’d learned how to mix potions and draw up star charts and change furniture into animals. Still, she kept discovering other, equally important things that no one had bothered to tell her – such as just how far-reaching the implications of a single act could be.

Take her misadventure at the hands of Tom Riddle, for example. It had affected her in all the ways one would expect from such an event. But it had also led to some unpredictable changes.

One of those was the way it had altered her relationship with Professor Dumbledore. Ever since she’d gotten past her initial suspicion of him on the day they’d met, she'd trusted the professor as deeply as anyone could trust anyone. Her own father, though he'd loved her, had been too wrapped up in his work and his private eccentricities to pay her much attention. Dumbledore, in contrast, always made time for her, always wanted to know what was happening in her life, always had words of genuine praise for her. Even after she'd turned eighteen and technically been on her own, he'd given her advice and support. She couldn't have asked for a better, kinder man to oversee her affairs.

Now, in the months following The Incident, as she had come to think of it, her fondness for her mentor had developed into a painful romantic crush. She was a smart girl, and it wasn't hard for her to pick out the psychological issues fueling her feelings. She was wary of boys her own age at the moment. If one could attack her, might others not also? But she was still human, and young, and wanted someone to love - and Professor Dumbledore, whom she knew would cut off his own hands before he would hurt her, was a safe target for that love. So she lavished all her affection on him, in part openly, in part secretly.

It was a chaste love, really, and the fantasies that accompanied it were chaste as well, adolescent dreams of kissing and embracing, of sleeping warm and safe at his side where no one could touch her. The thought of greater intimacy made her insides seize up with fear. She knew, intellectually, that her next sexual experience was not likely to be as traumatic as the first had been, but the prospect was still horrifying. Sometimes she sat alone in her room and fretted over it. What if her hopes were realized and Professor Dumbledore came to return her feelings? He would surely want that from her then. What would she do? How could she refuse?

Albus, she reminded herself, you're supposed to call him Albus now. He'd told her so at the beginning of the school year, saying that since they were colleagues, they should be on a first-name basis. She still felt herself turning red every time she addressed him that way, but it was getting easier.

At least something was improving for her. Though she didn't have to teach any of Tom's classes -- he was a sixth-year now, and she was only handling the first-years -- she still saw him often enough to keep The Incident constantly at the front of her mind. Falling asleep at night was nearly impossible, despite all the extra protective spells she'd put on her door; she couldn't shake the worry that she would wake up in a different place with another chunk of her memory missing. Often it was close to dawn before she finally drifted off, and even then her sleep was thin and restless. The resulting exhaustion made it very difficult for her to manage the duties of her new job, not to mention her private mission of finding dirt she could use against her attacker.

There was another thing that wasn't going well. Now that she was part of the staff, she had more freedom to move around the castle, but she still couldn't go prowling after hours without an excuse ready in case someone asked. Nor could she get inside the Slytherin dormitories -- and even if she could have, she wasn't sure she would have. Gryffindor bravery or no, it was foolhardy to walk into a snake's den, so to speak. She was not about to be violated a second time if she could help it, even if it meant getting the evidence she needed.

And wasn't violation the crux of her problem? As far as she could tell, the rape itself hadn't been too bad, as such things went. After a day or two of discomfort, her physical injuries had healed, but that violated feeling just wouldn't go away. She felt branded by it, as if "VICTIM" were written in large, glowing letters on her forehead. And there was Tom every day in the Great Hall, eating and talking and smiling his chilly smile, just as if nothing had ever passed between them. Clearly he wasn't affected.

Maybe it wasn't really him. Maybe it was someone else. Maybe you're going mad, and rape hallucinations are the first symptom.

No. Minerva trusted her own judgment more than that. She knew what had happened to her, and she knew who had done it, knew by the way she instinctively stiffened and drew in on herself every time he was near. Her body remembered, even if her mind could not. All she had to do was prove it. But how?

All this stress roiling around in her head took its toll on her, and soon enough, Dumbledore noticed that something was wrong. Just before the Christmas holidays, he started asking her questions - gentle questions, but probing ones that were difficult to sidestep. It didn't help that she wanted to answer him truthfully, to unload the problem onto him and let him solve it. Instead, she told him that she was having trouble with the adjustment to teaching, and he seemed to believe her (though you never could tell precisely what was going on behind the twinkling eyes and jovial expression).

"Perhaps it would do you good to get out of the castle for a day," he mused. They were in his office, which was now her office too, at least until she earned a full teaching appointment and got one of her own. "You could go into Hogsmeade next time the students go -"

"No!" Minerva said, so sharply that he glanced at her in surprise. "I mean, no, thank you, I'd rather not. I've been there plenty of times."

"True, true," Dumbledore said. "But still, I think a break is in order. Ah, I know! I'll be going into London next Saturday to take care of some business. How would you like to go along with me? You could look around in Diagon Alley while I'm occupied, and then we could have an early dinner together before coming back. What do you think?"

What did she think? A whole day miles away from Tom and everything to do with him? Dinner alone with Dumbledore -- with Albus? No need to ponder that one!

"I would love to," she said. "But are you sure it’s quite safe? With the Muggle war and all?”

"They're having blackouts at night, and some hit-and-run air raids," Dumbledore said, "but not much is going on during the day at the moment. The Muggles seem to be going about their business as usual, even if they have to climb over heaps of rubble to do it. Anyway, there are spells on Diagon Alley for protection. I don't foresee any trouble. Really, Minerva, do you think I'd take you there if I thought it were dangerous?"

"No, of course not,” she said, smiling in spite of herself. He smiled back and patted the top of her head.

"I do miss the ribbons," he said. "I suppose you're too grown-up now to wear them anymore."

"Right," Minerva said. She'd stopped doing her hair with ribbons months ago -- they made her look too young to be teaching, and there were too many unpleasant memories associated with them. Lately she'd been scraping it all back into a bun. It was a much more professorial style. Her temples ached at the end of the day from the pulling, but she figured she'd get used to that in time.

"Well, growing up does happen to the best of us," said Dumbledore with another smile. "Why don't you meet me here after breakfast on Saturday? My appointment's at ten; that should give me plenty of time to drop you off in Diagon Alley. I think you'll enjoy yourself."

"I plan to," Minerva said. "Believe me, I do."

And she did. Dumbledore left her just inside the entrance to Diagon Alley with a promise to rejoin her at three o'clock, and she spent several happy hours roaming around. She'd never been much of a recreational shopper - she'd had to be terribly tight with her money while she was a student, and it had always seemed silly to waste time gaping at things she couldn't buy - but now she could enjoy looking in the various shops and making mental lists of what she would come back for later in the day and what she would have to save up for. She ate walnut fudge and petted the exotic creatures in the animal shop, and finally, around one o'clock, ended up in Flourish and Blotts.

The familiar smell of parchment, vellum, rag paper and leather washed over her as soon as she stepped inside, reminding her, as it always did, of her father’s vast collection of books both Muggle and magical. Their whole house had been permeated by that scent, with undertones of pipe smoke and brewing potions. One sniff was enough to make her feel warm and snug and cared-for, despite the chill coming from the door behind her.

She moved slowly up and down the aisles, choosing a copy of Great Expectations and one of Magical History Of The Scottish Highlands (that last largely because she’d been thinking of her father, who’d had more national pride than William Wallace himself). Then she headed over to the Transfiguration section to see if there was anything new.

On a bottom shelf in that area, tucked into a corner, she spied a huge, thick tome titled The Trickiest Transfiguration: A Guide To Becoming An Animagus and stopped for a minute. Professor Dumbledore – Albus – had devoted several lectures to Animagi back in her third year, or maybe her fourth. It had sounded interesting, but with all the other work she had to do, she'd had no time to really investigate the subject beyond what she needed to know for exams. Now she had time. It wasn't as if she was spending many hours sleeping, after all.

Suddenly it hit her like a freight train: this could be the solution to her problem! If she could become an animal -- something small, something that would go unnoticed among all the other animals at Hogwarts -- she could sneak around wherever and whenever she wanted. She could spy on Tom like nobody's business. And if he, or anyone else, tried to molest her while she was in human form, well, turning into an animal would put a stop to that even more effectively than a blast from her wand, wouldn't it?

Minerva pulled the book off the shelf and added it to her pile. Panting slightly (the dratted thing was as heavy as four normal books), she carried it up to the front of the shop and paid.