(no subject)
[Private]
Minerva.
Mein lieber Gott, Löwen, what do you want from me? Do you want me for your friend? Your confidante? Your medical advisor? All of these, or none of these, or would you rather it be something else that I don't know and can't understand because you won't tell me? You say you want to talk to me, and then when we do start talking you shut me out when the conversation starts to travel down a path you don't want to take. You never used to do that, even with me...or perhaps our conversations in the past never took those paths in the first place. Did you even HEAR yourself when you mentioned how Albus had stopped talking to you last year? Why, if it was so hard for you then, are you doing the same thing to me now?
The most frustrating thing of all is the fact that I can't talk about this with anyone else. I would normally go to Remus, in this case. He is Deputy Headmaster after all. But I'm the school Healer, and the absolute last thing this school (or the Order) needs is for the school Healer is to start raising doubts concerning the mental and physical health of the Headmistress. And the dear boy does worry so about her. As for anyone else in the Order -- no. The wounds there are still too fresh, barely granulating. And the walls have ears, as they say.
Perhaps I need to give something more, in order to get something more in return. Maybe it's time I told you a few things, Minerva McGonagall. You know the basics, and Albus knew -- knows -- more, but I think I need to tell you at least part of what I told him all those years ago.
Albus.
I...I don't know what to think anymore. More and more, I'm beginning to wonder if getting him out of Azkaban will do more harm than good. More harm to Minerva, certainly. More harm to Harry Potter, definitely. And those are the two people who need it the least right now. It also makes me wonder what other decisions of his are...less than trustworthy.
Trustworthy.
Getting past the different appearance of Aracelis was difficult enough. If it wasn't for the illness and the aftereffects of Cruciatus, she would barely look older than some of the seventh-years. But that is a set of questions that I don't feel obligated to examine further. I'm enough of a busy-body as it stands. At least she's started eating more, even if it means I have to take my meals with her and eat the exact same food to head off that damned paranoia. She's been writing a good deal, too. I'm surprised she hasn't accused me of tampering with her post yet.
Tampering.
I ought to be getting things ready for Miss Edgecombe to take the potion. (I would have been ready by now if I hadn't had to make a room ready for Aracelis.) I've never had to be the only Healer working a memory recovery, but I refuse to let anyone from St Mungo's or the Ministry near her. The fewer people, the better. I should have someone standing by to hold her down, though -- perhaps Remus would assist with that. Even with the sedative the convulsions will be rather violent.
Violence.
A cup of tea and a chat with Flora are in order. But I'll have to get her out of the greenhouse somehow before the talk gets serious. I can't let on about the listening devices, but neither can we take any chances.