"You've always known, I think, that I am a dangerous man. And now you know that I am a foolish, wicked, and cowardly one. How can you possibly want me now that you know me?"
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It's 1943, and both the wizarding and Muggle worlds have explod...
Rất tiếc! Hình ảnh này không tuân theo hướng dẫn nội dung. Để tiếp tục đăng tải, vui lòng xóa hoặc tải lên một hình ảnh khác.
"Goodbye, Professor Dumbledore."
Rất tiếc! Hình ảnh này không tuân theo hướng dẫn nội dung. Để tiếp tục đăng tải, vui lòng xóa hoặc tải lên một hình ảnh khác.
Minerva approached Albus's office door with a new feeling: trepidation. The events of the past weeks—Tom Riddle's discovery of their affair, Aberforth Dumbledore's startling admonition about her lover, and her dawning realisation that Albus was more deeply involved in two concurrent wars than she had allowed herself to believe—had shaken her out of her complacent happiness, replacing it with a niggling anxiety she couldn't suppress.
And now this business with Albus's brother.
By the time she arrived at Albus's door, the trepidation had been replaced by foreboding.
Stop it, Minerva, she told herself. This nervousness was irrational. Albus is fine. We're fine.
Her worries evaporated when he opened the door and she saw his dear, handsome—to her, anyway—face.
"How is Aberforth?" she asked as soon as the door was closed behind her.
"He is recovering well," said Albus.
"I'm very glad. Can you tell me what happened?" She was unsure if it was overstepping to ask.
"His shop was blown up. It was the Blackrobes—Grindelwald's supporters."
A cold fist gripped Minerva's heart.
Blackrobes? After Albus's brother?
The sudden realisation that Albus was in real, physical danger, probably every day of his life, broke through her consciousness in a way that hadn't happened before—she hadn't let it. But now the brutal fact would not be ignored. Albus was not invincible.
"My gods! Was he badly injured?"
"A few broken bones, now mended, and some burns, which will take some time to heal, but heal they will." After a pause, he added, "I will need to look after him for a time. He has nowhere to go. The shop was his livelihood, and he lived in the flat above it."
"I'm so sorry." She moved to set her books down at the table, but Albus put a hand on her arm, stopping her.
