Daddy's Favorite

I never thought I would see a Leavetaking Feast sadder than last year's. I will never forget the black decorations and Albus' toast to Cedric Diggory.

I was wrong.

Oh, the decorations were livelier this year, but the mood ... well, I suppose controlled and barely repressed hysteria is the best description. After all, Voldemort is back, God may never have been in his Heaven, and all is decidedly wrong with the universe.

So I am looking forward to my brief meeting with Albus tonight. Ordinarily I would never dream of bothering him on a night like this. But time is running out and affairs are pressing. We must take advantage of every moment from this point until ... the end, whatever that might be.

"Lollipops," I whisper, opening the way to the Headmaster's office. Albus' weakness of confectionary passwords is one of the solid rocks of my existance.

I enter his office and stop in shock. I have not been here in the last several days, since before the tragedy at the Ministry. He had told me briefly about his confrontation with Harry but...

Either Albus is redecorating or Harry was much angrier than he let on.

I have never seen the room so bare. Usually it is crowded with instruments of various kinds - most delicate and expensive. Tonight you could hold waltzing lessons in front of the Headmaster's desk.

"Ah, Professor McGonogall," the corpulent portrait behind the desk greets me, "I'm so glad to see you." Many of the other former Heads mumble similar hellos.

"Hello Martin," I manage to smile. Martin Sloane has always been one of my favorite former Headmasters, "Where is Albus?"

"In his sitting room," he gestures to his left. "You have to talk some sense into the man!"

"About what?" I move over to stand in front of the desk.

"I have the greatest admiration for Mr. Potter, we all do," there is a general murmer of assent, "and we know he had experienced a terrible shock, but to let him speak to the Headmaster like that..." Martin shakes his head.

"What did Harry say?" Albus has just told me briefly that Harry and he had worked through an "intense" conversation on the night of Sirius' death. I can imagine the intensity must have been high. For Sirius to die like that....

I despise crying, at least in public, and if I keep thinking of poor Sirius - and for that matter poor Harry - I will get started.

"Screaming like that..."

"Hello Minerva," Albus' voice easily cuts over Martin, who subsides grumpily. Albus is standing in the door of his sitting room and beckons me forward. "Please join me."

Harry? Screaming? Albus said nothing about that!

I enter the room and get another shock. The table is piled high with pieces, parts, and components of various instruments. I am not an expert on this kind of thing, but I recognize bits of at least three different delicate - and extremely expensive - instruments.

"Albus, did Harry...?"

"I'm afraid so," his expression is as sad as I've ever seen it, "the boy was ... almost out of control. For a moment I considered using my wand." He sighs heavily. "I'm glad I did not. He would hate me more than he does already."

That goes right to my heart. Of all the teachers, I am the one who best understand how Albus feels about Harry. In fact I share most of those feelings. And I have my own suspicions about this year which, if true, mean that I have a great deal to be guilty about myself.

"The portraits say he was screaming." I reach over and rub his shoulder lightly. He looks so tired, and so old.

"He was," Albus says quietly, "he even said he did not want to be human anymore if it meant feeling like that."

"Albus!" I feel tears burning my eyes.

Suddenly he smiles. "Nothing wrong with him physically though." He looks at the broken instruments and chuckles. "If we can't get him back as a seeker he would make a marvelous beater with all that arm strength." His blue eyes twinkle a bit.

I'm not sure I would take it quite so lightly, considering the expense of the instruments strewn in pieces on the table, but like him I feel my heart rise at the thought.

"What can I do for you Minerva? You mentioned you wanted to go quickly over the Prefect reports?"

"Yes Albus." This is a necessary chore I thought we could get out of the way quickly so as not to have to deal with it later when things with the coming war grow pressing. "Especially our two fifth years, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. I thought if you could sign the reports tonight, I could do the rest of the paperwork in the morning, before the staff Leavetaking Luncheon."

"Excellent planning as always Minerva. Anything of great import?" He begins to scan the papers quickly.

"The older prefects continued their superb performances as you can see."

"Wonderful, and the younger ones?" He glances at me over his spectacles and smiles.

"Mr. Weasley was somewhat nervous and a little awkward in group situations, but had improved markedly by the end of the year. Hermione, as you can see, was excellent - better even than either of the sixth years." I smile. I have to admit that I have a soft spot in my heart for Hermione, who in some ways reminds me of myself at that age - although I was not quite so bright.

"Wonderful! I had every faith that Harry's friends would not let us down."

That irritates me a little. It is true that they ARE Harry's friends certainly. It is also true, if I force myself to admit it, that Ron Weasley probably owes his prefect badge to that fact. But Hermione deserves a little more recognition than that.

"I was particularly impressed," I venture, "that Hermione did such an excellent job without a drop in her grades."

"That is indeed a great achievement. We are quite lucky to have such a brilliant student."

Exactly the right thing to say. Why am I still not satisfied? There is something about the way he said it. Something offhand that does not sit quite right.

"I am looking forward to seeing her O.W.L. scores."

"As am I. I am sure they will be extraordinary." He smiles again. But again something is not quite right.

"Did I tell you that she has mentioned an Auror's career?" That is only one of the careers she mentioned, but I want to test something.

"Did she? I am sure she would make a splendid Auror!"

Once again exactly the right thing to say. And once again something is somewhat wrong. What is it?

"I imagine," Albus continues, "that Harry would be glad to have someone like Hermione with him in the Corps, if he should become an Auror."

"Yes," I say, "when he becomes an Auror." I have promised Harry to see to help him achieve the required results for admission to the Corps if it kills me, and I have every intention of doing so. Still something is bothering me.

"Harry as an Auror would be quite a sight," I say.

"Oh my yes," Albus chuckles again and continues to re-arrange parts.

That's it. The twinkle. The famous Dumbledore eye twinkle.

I feel silly. I feel foolish. I feel absolutely ridiculous.

I also feel mildly angry.

The legendary twinkling light in Albus' eyes seems to dim when he mentions Hermione. It is especially noticeable because it shines so brightly whenever he talks about Harry.

Albus. I know you love Harry. I love him too. Considering that you left him with those damnable muggles for reasons you've never explained to me, I have moments when I think I love him MORE than you do.

Then why am I angry? Well, not angry. Irritated.

"I wonder what kind of O.W.L. scores Harry will get," I say, more to keep the conversation going than anything else. "I dare say they won't be as good as Hermione's."

"Oh certainly not," Albus acknowledges, "although I would be stunned if he does not get an Outstanding in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Possibly Care of Magical Creatures and maybe even Charms. But for the rest certainly not as well as Ms. Granger. But then tests are generally a poor indicator of worth anyway."

That is absolutely true. He and I have had that conversation many times. And I know he did not mean that to be a back-handed slap at Hermione. But I can't help but notice that his eyes twinkled at the mention of Harry's probable performance, while they did not when talking about Hermione's probable much superior showing.

I should be going now. Tomorrow will be a busy day, and I need to corner Hermione before she gets on the train and force her to divulge some details about Harry's experiences with Dolores Umbridge. If what she says confirms my suspicions, I may well need a strong shoulder to weep on come this time tomorrow night.

Still I don't move. I know Albus does not mean an insult. I know he respects my feelings for Hermione. I know I am being obsessive.

But I can't help it.

"Do you plan to put everything back in working order?" I indicate the pieces and components scattered on the table.

"What I can, although much of it is ruined beyond recall."

His eyes twinkle.

I am beginning to get more irritated than is wise, strickly speaking.

"You know," I try desperately, "Hermione may well set a record for performance on O.W.L.s. At least for recent performance."

"I would not be surprised. Ms. Granger's abilities are quite stunning at times."

No twinkle.

"Are you sure you won't be able to fix everything?" I worry that Albus might recognize the disjointed nature of my conversation, but I hope he will attribute it to tiredness.

"No, not everything. When Harry has a tantrum he does quite a thorough job."

Twinkle.

I draw in a sharp breath. Then let it out slowly. Just what was I planning to say? Was I planning to shout at him for unfairness. What has he said that is unfair?

Absolutely nothing.

It's just that his eyes shine when he talks about Harry breaking expensive and possibly irreplaceable pieces of magical equipment, and they don't when he discusses the possibility of Hermione setting a record on O.W.L.s.

Just what am I supposed to say? "Twinkle damn it?"

"Well good night Albus."

"Good night Minerva."

I walk slowly down the stairs. My irritation is rapidly seeping away, but some of it remains.

Albus, I have admired you for decades. You are my leading light as to what a teacher should be.

I have no doubt that were Hermione in need, Albus would rush to her aid. I have no doubt that he is genuinely proud of her.

I also have no doubt that he will never regard her the way he regards Harry.

We all have our favorites. It is a fact. In truth, Harry is a favorite of mine as much as Hermione, although in a different way. I can argue with nothing that the Headmaster has said.

And yet.....

Couldn't you have spared a little twinkle Albus? Just a little of that wonderful shine of yours?

I know the answer.

I adore Albus. I always will.

But tonight he became in my eyes just a little less than he had been.

All of this over a twinkle? All of this over a shine in an old man's eyes?

Sometimes it is hard to know what the important things in life are. The twinkle in Albus' eyes is one of them. I hope Hermione learns that kind of lesson. I sometimes worry she spends too much time with books and not enough with life. That is one reason I am glad she is friends with Harry and Ron.

But I hope she does not learn it when she is standing before Albus with Harry.

Life is often cruel.

I never thought Albus' eyes would be.

I was wrong.