Drabblefic #2: Dumbledore, "Mars, Bringer of War"
Title: Mars, Bringer of War
Genre: Drama
Rating & Warnings: PG
Word Count: 597
Author's Note: For tegdoh, who wanted Dumbledore and moon, and has ended up with Firenze too, which I hope she doesn't mind.
Mars, Bringer of War
Firenze rested one hind leg against the other patiently. Even though Professor Dumbledore was the most open-minded human he had ever met, he was still subject to the limitations of his kind.
Dumbledore stared at the stars high on the dark ceiling of his office, apparently lost in thought. To his side stood a round table filled with candles, some lit and burning strongly, some barely smouldering, and some only twisted blobs of wax from which the occasional faint wisp of smoke appeared.
“Mars shines brighter than I have ever seen it in my lifetime,” Firenze said impassively, at last. “Bringing with it the pledge of war. I could burn the mallowsweet and sage again, should you wish to confirm this?”
“No.” Dumbledore stared for a moment longer, before turning away with a small, weary smile. “That won’t be necessary, thank you, Firenze. Even old men know when time is running out on them.”
Firenze hesitated. “If I can assist in any way, Professor-”
“I know.” Dumbledore was looking now at the candles. Three stood at the very top of the table, in a triangle, and a half circle of others stood closely around them, as if for protection. Except several of those candles were no longer lit and one had gone completely, leaving only the holder and the heavy, sweet smell of melted wax in the air.
“Soon it’s going to be up to him alone,” Dumbledore said softly, as if to himself. “Still more a child than a man, even though he’s seen and done things no child should. It’ll be up to them all when I have gone. If only I had longer to prepare him.” He turned suddenly to look at Firenze, anguish visible in every line on his face. “You try to think of everything, imagine every possibility and eventuality. But even the stars don’t know all the answers…”
His voice trailed away tiredly and Firenze wondered what to say. “And yet,” he offered slowly, swishing his tail in thought. “You also looked long at the moon.”
“So I did.” Dumbledore looked at one candle, burning a little way apart from the others. Firenze thought there was something about the flicker of the flame that suggested uncertainty and lack of purpose.
“In times of war, you ask a great deal of people. Sometimes even more than you realise.” Dumbledore took off his spectacles and rubbed them against his sleeve. Firenze caught a glimpse of the blackened and twisted hand as the sleeve moved and Dumbledore followed his eyes. “Yes,” he said nodding. “Always the one thing you don’t foresee, that you don’t plan for.” He gestured with the spectacles towards the lone candle before replacing them slowly on his nose. “I’ve asked a good and brave man to undertake something he will hate. Something very necessary, which only he can do, but something which means searching the very depths of his soul. And I consoled myself with the thought that he wouldn’t be alone. That he would have the love and support there for him that he needed.”
A pause. “Then?” Firenze asked.
Dumbledore sighed. He reached out and picked up a smaller candle from the half circle, one that burnt fiercely and eagerly, but with an oddly colourless flame. He placed it carefully next to the other one, so that the two were almost touching. The flame of the taller candle wobbled and flared for a second, as though touched by a tiny breeze, before resuming as before.
Firenze thought both were a fraction brighter now, but Dumbledore was regarding them sadly.
“I never foresaw that he would think he was no longer worthy of that love,” he said.
Genre: Drama
Rating & Warnings: PG
Word Count: 597
Author's Note: For tegdoh, who wanted Dumbledore and moon, and has ended up with Firenze too, which I hope she doesn't mind.
Mars, Bringer of War
Firenze rested one hind leg against the other patiently. Even though Professor Dumbledore was the most open-minded human he had ever met, he was still subject to the limitations of his kind.
Dumbledore stared at the stars high on the dark ceiling of his office, apparently lost in thought. To his side stood a round table filled with candles, some lit and burning strongly, some barely smouldering, and some only twisted blobs of wax from which the occasional faint wisp of smoke appeared.
“Mars shines brighter than I have ever seen it in my lifetime,” Firenze said impassively, at last. “Bringing with it the pledge of war. I could burn the mallowsweet and sage again, should you wish to confirm this?”
“No.” Dumbledore stared for a moment longer, before turning away with a small, weary smile. “That won’t be necessary, thank you, Firenze. Even old men know when time is running out on them.”
Firenze hesitated. “If I can assist in any way, Professor-”
“I know.” Dumbledore was looking now at the candles. Three stood at the very top of the table, in a triangle, and a half circle of others stood closely around them, as if for protection. Except several of those candles were no longer lit and one had gone completely, leaving only the holder and the heavy, sweet smell of melted wax in the air.
“Soon it’s going to be up to him alone,” Dumbledore said softly, as if to himself. “Still more a child than a man, even though he’s seen and done things no child should. It’ll be up to them all when I have gone. If only I had longer to prepare him.” He turned suddenly to look at Firenze, anguish visible in every line on his face. “You try to think of everything, imagine every possibility and eventuality. But even the stars don’t know all the answers…”
His voice trailed away tiredly and Firenze wondered what to say. “And yet,” he offered slowly, swishing his tail in thought. “You also looked long at the moon.”
“So I did.” Dumbledore looked at one candle, burning a little way apart from the others. Firenze thought there was something about the flicker of the flame that suggested uncertainty and lack of purpose.
“In times of war, you ask a great deal of people. Sometimes even more than you realise.” Dumbledore took off his spectacles and rubbed them against his sleeve. Firenze caught a glimpse of the blackened and twisted hand as the sleeve moved and Dumbledore followed his eyes. “Yes,” he said nodding. “Always the one thing you don’t foresee, that you don’t plan for.” He gestured with the spectacles towards the lone candle before replacing them slowly on his nose. “I’ve asked a good and brave man to undertake something he will hate. Something very necessary, which only he can do, but something which means searching the very depths of his soul. And I consoled myself with the thought that he wouldn’t be alone. That he would have the love and support there for him that he needed.”
A pause. “Then?” Firenze asked.
Dumbledore sighed. He reached out and picked up a smaller candle from the half circle, one that burnt fiercely and eagerly, but with an oddly colourless flame. He placed it carefully next to the other one, so that the two were almost touching. The flame of the taller candle wobbled and flared for a second, as though touched by a tiny breeze, before resuming as before.
Firenze thought both were a fraction brighter now, but Dumbledore was regarding them sadly.
“I never foresaw that he would think he was no longer worthy of that love,” he said.