Meeting of the Minds

Albus Dumbledore sat in his office, his heart aching. Harry had just left; he’d finally forced himself to tell the boy about the prophecy. He knew he had made a tremendous mistake not telling him sooner. Keeping his distance from Harry this year had been another mistake, a mistake he feared had caused the death of Sirius Black, and added to the burden the poor boy must carry.

Taking out his watch and placing it in front of him on the desk, Albus sat in his chair for a long while. Every so often, one of the portraits would try to cheer him up. He kept silent, ignoring their comments, staring at the watch.

“I’m talking to you, Dumbledore,” Phineas Nigellus said. “I’m making much more noise than that watch of yours. Why are you acting like you can’t hear me?”

“Ah, Phineas, I can hear you. But what this watch is telling me is so troubling, I don’t feel much like responding to you at the moment. You’ll have to forgive me.”

The portraits fell silent, giving Dumbledore his space. He sat quietly for a few moments. Finally he arose, sighing, and stepped over to his fireplace, threw in a handful of Floo Powder, stepped into the fire and said, “Diagon Alley.”

Stepping out of the fireplace at the Leaky Cauldron, Albus was glad to see the room was almost empty. He nodded to the barkeep, and walked out into the street. After walking for a few minutes, he arrived outside The British Museum. It was still dark outside and the museum was closed. Albus ducked into the doorway of a building across the street and looked around for Muggle security cameras. You couldn’t be too careful, these days. Satisfied that he was not being observed, either by actual people or by electronic means, he assumed his animagus form.

Now that he was quite a bit smaller, the building looked immense. Flying toward it, he looked for a way to get inside. He found a chimney pipe that looked promising and was soon inside, making his way to the main floor where the special exhibits were located.

He heard a dull murmur of voices and knew he had found what he was looking for. Flying down to land on a bench, he transformed back into his human form.

“Albus Dumbledore, we are honoured by your visit,” said the portrait of Merlin the Enchanter.

“Not only that, we’re really pleased to see you,” said the portrait of Gandalf the wizard.

“Thank you for your kind welcome,” said Dumbledore, standing and making a small bow toward the portraits, which were placed on adjacent walls near a corner so they were nearly facing one another.

“What brings you to our fair exhibit?” asked Merlin.

“I felt the need of fellowship …” Dumbledore trailed off.

“I’ve been expecting this,” said Gandalf. “It’s a heavy burden, watching over someone whose task it is to save the world from evil. How often I wished I could share that burden when Frodo and Sam were making their way toward Mt. Doom.”

“Well, you could have come and talked to me,” said Merlin. “I’d have listened.”

“You were asleep. It’s only since they’ve put up these portraits that we can communicate at all, don’t you remember?” said Gandalf.

“Ah, yes. Sorry about that. I’d have been happy to help,” said Merlin.

“How can we help you, Albus?” asked Gandalf.

“The guilt is eating away at me. I’ve made a terrible mistake, and I fear it’s caused the death of someone quite dear to young Harry. I was trying to protect him. I should have told Harry about the prophecy much sooner, maybe things would have turned out differently.”

“Or maybe Harry needed to grow through this experience,” said Gandalf. “I was devastated when I learned that Frodo and his friends didn’t get the message I’d left for them at Bree. But Aragorn was watching, and he made sure Frodo reached Rivendell -- with some magical assistance, of course. And Frodo learned to trust Aragorn, because I wasn’t there.”

“Yes, that is a good point,” Dumbledore replied. “I’ve been very proud of these young people and how they’ve risen to the tasks set before them.”

“Ah, the hobbits surprised me many times with their strength and perseverance,” said Gandalf. “But I understand the feeling of guilt all too well. I very much wished I could have done something to save Denethor, the Steward of Gondor.”

“I’m very familiar with guilt,” said Merlin. “I was the one who introduced Sir Launcelot to King Arthur. Oh, he served the King well as a Knight, but he brought him such great pain because of the love between Launcelot and Guinevere.”

“Romance can bring great pain,” said Gandalf. “I am rather glad I was spared the complication of relationships of that type. Has that been your experience, as well, Albus?”

“Yes, I seem to have avoided romantic entanglements. Even in fan fiction, I’m seldom one of the sailors on the bewildering variety of ships.”

“Ships. I sailed on a ship once. With Frodo and Bilbo, from the Grey Havens . . .” Gandalf trailed off, remembering.

“Arthur was carried away on a boat as well,” said Merlin. “It is foretold that he will return again some day.”

“Oh, don’t talk to me about foretelling the future,” grumbled Dumbledore, looking unhappily at his watch. “Right now I wish I didn’t know anything about the future.”

“It is a heavy burden to know what cannot be seen with the eyes,” said Gandalf. “I often wished I wasn’t the one with the knowledge, the sight, the answers.” He paused. “I did sort of enjoy being mysterious, however.”

“You have to watch that,” warned Merlin. “People get so they expect too much from you.”

“Yes, everyone expects me to know the answers,” complained Dumbledore. “Even the readers expect that of me. I think I disappointed a lot of people in this latest book, however.”

“It’s good for them to be disappointed. It builds character,” said Gandalf. “I know Legolas and Gimli were both very disappointed when they thought I’d perished in Moria. But it brought them closer together. This friendship between an elf and a dwarf is one of my accomplishments that I’m most proud of.”

“Maybe you should take my place,” suggested Dumbledore. “I’d be grateful to anyone who could bring unity between the Gryffindors and the Slytherins.”

“Different groups of people have been warring against one another since the beginning of time,” said Merlin wisely. “One wizard won’t be able to change that.”

The three wizards sat for a while in companionable silence.

“Excuse me, I’m being summoned to one of my other portraits,” said Gandalf, disappearing from view.

“While he’s gone,” Merlin whispered, “I need to ask you a favor, Albus. Do you have any ear plugs? Gandalf’s snoring is keeping me awake at night.”

Dumbledore pointed his wand at the empty space next to him on the bench, and conjured up ear plugs out of thin air, which he handed to Merlin.

“Thank you, these will do nicely,” said Merlin. He had just finished tucking them inside his robes when Gandalf returned.

“Well, good wizards, we think we have problems, but I’ve just met someone who’s in a real fix,” said Gandalf, slightly out of breath. “One of my portraits in America hangs in a film museum. Next to it is the portrait of a sort of space-age wizard. He told me I can call him Ben. He has a fat metal wand that projects a glowing blue light like a sword. Poor fellow, his apprentice actually turned to the Dark Side. He wants our help …”