Rowe's Rule

November came like a sweet breath of fresh air that year.

Albus Dumbledore stood on the tiny balcony outside his modest suite in Hogwarts and breathed it in. The morning breeze was ripe with dew off the moor and for a moment he let his mind go pleasantly blank.

The rustle of owl wings startled him out of it soon enough. He sighed as the first of many owls landed on the railing with a fat stack of letters.

He took the letters and sent the owl on its way with a nice tip before he retreated into his office, shut the doors behind him, and drew the curtains. It wouldn't stop the persistent owls from the Ministry, but it would at least cut some of the volume.

One of the baskets flanking his desk emitted a gurgle and Albus leaned over the edge to peer inside. A chubby arm pushed aside the blankets covering it to reveal a tiny thatch of black hair. Albus permitted himself a smile and knelt to rearrange the blankets around James and Lily's now orphaned son... one of many casualties of the war. One of many loose ends that needed to be tied up.

In response to his companion's activity, the second basket emitted a half-hearted wail. Albus sighed and noted -not for the first time- that he was getting far too old for this sort of thing.

Young Neville Longbottom sniffled as Albus came into view and squirmed with discomfort. Albus brushed the boy's downy brown hair aside and examined the scar there. The lightening-bolt scar was red and angry, only just beginning to scab over. Albus clucked his tongue softly and cast the mildest palliative charm he knew to soothe the infant's pain.

"Poor child, to be victim of an old man's folly..." Albus murmured. He'd been sure, so sure that Voldemort would target the Potters. Frank and Alice had been powerful Aurors, too dangerous a target for Voldemort to risk in person... and both pureblood. Albus had been sure that Tom would have seen the half-blood child as the greater threat.

Now both children had been robbed of their parents and one of them had been saddled with the burden of fame before he'd even left the cradle.

Young Harry's case was blissfully uncomplicated. Even in the wake of the tragedy of his godfather's imprisonment, the boy still had family in the muggle world. His Aunt and Uncle on Lily's side would take him. Albus would have to arrange to have the boy smuggled out of the school, lest someone from the Ministry intercept him and mistake him for Neville.

Neville would have to be kept away from the wizard population for a while. His grandmother had been an Order member in her time and Albus was sure that she'd take the boy in. No one would question her reclusive ways, especially not after the loss of her firstborn son.

With the children settled, Albus turned back to the stack of mail on his desk. The top letter was a foreboding shade of red and the address indicated that it was from the Minister of Magic.

Albus sighed once more, cast a silencing spell around the boys, and began to open his mail.