The Sugar Quill
Author: Sweeney Agonistes (Professors' Bookshelf)  Story: Headmaster Expelled  Chapter: Sent Down
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“Suspended

The door banged shut and Ron pulled the Invisibility Cloak off.

‘We’re in trouble now,’ he said hoarsely. ‘No Dumbledore. They might as well close the school tonight. There’ll be an attack a day with him gone.’

 

-Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

 

 

 

Suspended?”

 

Albus looked at Minerva, then glanced at the parchment lying on his desk. “It would seem so.”

 

“But – how? Why?” She was standing by the desk in a state of almost-shock – arms hanging slack, palms inward, fingers stretched helplessly.

 

Albus said, “I would imagine that the letter explains it all, Minerva.” She picked it up and read it; he began walking around the office, slowly taking books off of shelves and shrinking them to fit in his pockets. When he heard her set the parchment down again, he turned to face her expectantly.


Her face was pale, and she was shaking – whether from indignation or fear, he could not tell. “They feel you’re no longer adequately equipped to serve?”

 

“They’ve expected me to stop the attacks by now, and I have not,” he pointed out. “You must admit that it’s logical to assume – ”

 

“Logical, fiddlesticks,” she snapped, nostrils flaring. “You’re the only one who can stop them, and you know it, I know it – everyone knows it.”

 

“Except for the ones with the authority,” he said.

 

“And you know damned well that Lucius Malfoy forced them into signing that order.”

 

“I do,” he said. “I also know that there’s nothing I can do about it.”

 

Her face did not soften as much as sag. “Albus – ”

 

"You're in command now, Minerva." He gestured around him. "It's your office -- although I hope you won't object to my borrowing a few books."

"Of course not -- but Albus -- "

"And you'll take care of Fawkes?"

"Naturally, but -- "

He raised a hand. Softly, he said, "No protestations, Minerva, please."

She was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "I was going to ask you where you were going to go."

He paused. He hadn't thought about that. Hagrid was in Azkaban, four students and a ghost were lying Petrified in the hospital wing, and all his hopes rested on two Gryffindor second-years. He hadn't had time to think about himself.

"Take my flat in Hogsmeade," she said. "It's close by -- just in case." The last was said hastily, and he was suddenly and violently reminded of a certain ungainly, nervous fifth-year Gryffindor prefect sitting in his office near tears because she didn't think she had the capability to function without strong guidance in matters of command. He had soothed her then with biscuits, hot chocolate, and quiet, gentle words.

Now he only said, "Fawkes is accustomed to delivering mail, and he does tend to move faster than most owls." Her look of relief was fleeting, but definite.

 

He turned back to the bookshelf and selected one last volume – Hogwarts, A History – and shrank it. He faced her again, keeping his face blank. “Goodbye, Headmistress.”

 

As the door closed behind him, he heard one low, mournful note from Fawkes.

 

He rather felt the same.

 

 

 

A/N: Yay for Zsenya, Queen of Adverb Wranglers! I have not written my 100 adverbs on the blackboard because I have not yet had the chance (and there are no blackboards in my school, so it makes it a bit hard). I do promise to try and shape up in the future.

//
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