Hello! So, this is the newly written chapter of my old story "Even in the darkness". In this story, I'll change quite a bit of previous timeline, my writing style and some of the things that I just did not like! Hope you'll continue to read and review my story! Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I own everything but the plot. Sadly, it's the other way around.

Warning: I changed a few … well, a lot of the events in LotR books and movies.

"Even in the darkness"

Chapter 1

An unexpected meeting

In the darkness of the forest, a scent of blood invaded Gandalf's nostrils. His soft footsteps echoed no more as he stood rooted to the spot. His own breathing was the only thing he heard, his blue eyes sharply wandered around. Blood froze in the veins of the grey wizard as he prepared for the quite possible duel. But there was only silence, no sound reached him.

Still, there was this feeling, gnawing him up from the inside. There was something he had to find.

All of a sudden, Gandalf felt a slight tingle of magic, causing a shiver to run down his spine. Someone definitely was nearby, someone very powerful and very dark. The man found himself being led through the forest by his senses, with every step his own powers grew weaker, the flesh around his bones now felt like a burden.

Finally, his eyes fell upon that something he had to find. It was a tall woman, lying surrounded by the crown of golden autumn leaves. Her stern looking pale face shimmered under the sunlight, raven locks fell upon it in soft waves. She lay peacefully as red colour soaked into her torn robes, deep cuts shone upon her body. A black dagger was deep in her abdomen, glowing in light green. Under the square glasses, her eyes were closed.

Gandalf's gaze wandered in search for her attacker, but nothing caught his eye. The one who had done this to her was nowhere to be seen. The wizard slowly sunk to his knees and gently, as if afraid to disturb her dreamless sleep, traced her soft face with his rough finger. The woman was breathing to his surprise, her chest was rising and falling regularly.

With strange hesitation, the fingers of the wizard wrapped around the dagger and pulled it out with one quick movement. Without thinking, he put it in his bag and scooped the fallen woman into his arms. If there was a way to save her, he would find it.

After a few moments, Gandalf heard Shadowfax's galloping and then his eyes caught the sight of the horse itself. There was no time for walking and wasting precious time.

Ten minutes later the wizard laid the woman on a soft bed while his own head swirled with dark thoughts. Most of the wounds that were bleeding before his eyes weren't that deep, except for the one that the dagger had left in her abdomen. It was taking a lot of her blood, the need to heal it was Gandalf's priority.

His fingers quickly worked on the buttons of her torn dress and he pulled it off along with the layers hid under. The woman was left in only her black undergarments, melting with her raven hair. Grey eyes fell upon four reddish scars, crossing her pale chest. They were obviously left from a magical spell, no weapon could bring harm like this. But there was no time to waste.

The man firmly pressed a white clean cloth to the wound, applying pressure to cut off the heavy flowing of liquid. Five minutes later he found himself failing miserably, the condition of the injury was even worse. Somehow the bleeding could not be ended, blood freely streamed from the cut.

Gandalf took his last opportunity to help the woman and tightly wrapped a bandage around her waist, adding pressure to the injury. His hand wandered in a bag until it found a vile of blood-replenishing potion. He gently forced it down her throat and felt her veins slowly being filled up again. If this wouldn't help her, there would be nothing he could do.

With a lighter heart, the grey wizard took care of her smaller cuts and bruises. Another time he used the bandage, covering the deep cut on her right arm. That should help the woman for the mean time.

With last glance at her face, Gandalf unbuckled his belt and pulled the grey robe of his off. With steady hands, he pulled the undershirt over his silver head and dressed the female in it, shifting her body to a more comfortable position. After he had pulled on the robe again, his gentle hands covered her with warm, white blanket. Only one thought swirled in his head as he left the room.

Who was this mysterious woman?

Darkness was everywhere, no light dared to disturb it even a little. A soft wind was blowing and gently stirring the branches of lonely trees, making them rumble silently. No sound was heard around, no animals or birds could be seen. There were none here.

Minerva began walking slowly, without any sound as if afraid of what would happen if she broke the enveloping silence. Her emerald eyes caught strange, obscure glowing up ahead; it chilled her blood. Shivers ran down her spine as her pace quickened until she found herself running from the light.

The woman stumbled over a tree root and fell over, only to rise again and turn around. There was something, or rather someone walking on the fallen leaves.

"Minerva…"

The witch heard her name being called over and over again as she slowly backed away. Only to hit someone's chest and feel hands sneaking around her waist.

"Join me…"

Minerva turned around in the tight grip to see a silver skull of once so familiar face.

With a jump, Minerva found herself crying, cold tears stung her emerald irises. Black locks were slick with sweat and fell upon her frightened face. Rather startled by the nightmare, the woman calmed down a bit, trying to slow down the mad beat in her chest.

Warm air left and filled her lungs as the witch tried to breathe, tiny drops fell on the white blanket as she wept. Minutes had passed as she finally reached to wipe the tears from her porcelain skin. Restoring composure, Minerva looked around for her glasses for all her eyes met was a fuzz.

Her slender fingers wrapped around her square helpers as her body was set aflame. Her back hit the mattress once again as her eyes closed without command. Fingers tangled in white bed sheets, clutching them tightly in the unbearable pain. Gasping for air, Minerva heard someone's heavy steps nearing with every second.

"Touch me… And you're d-dead," words left her mouth as she pressed her wooden wand at that someone's throat.

"I'm here with no intentions of harm," deep, calming voice said in defense. "Let me look at your wound."

"Get away from me!"

With a thud, the wand hit the ground as Minerva leaped at the stranger with the last bit of her strength. She straddled his quite bigger body and pinned his arms above his head. Her eyes couldn't clearly pick out his features, but he definitely had a grey beard and silver mane of hair.

"Where is h-he?" hissed the witch coldly through gritted from agony teeth.

"Who?" The man tried to break free from her grip. "What are you talking about?"

"Did you kill him?! Tell me where he is if you don't want to leave this world!"

Minerva clutched his wrists harder as she felt like passing out from the hell she was in. Her irises could not possibly concentrate anymore, blackness swarmed in her already foggy vision.

"I-I am going to kill y-you…"

Her voice already lost all of its coldness, the words that had left her mouth were but a whisper. Cold sweat shone on her even paler face as she fought against her will.

"No, not now you aren't," the silver-haired stranger said, his fingers wrapping around her own. "Perhaps later."

Minerva only looked at his face as her pain slowly diminished. After it reduced, her energy was gone with it, too. Emerald eyes closed, weariness took over and her body collapsed on the chest of the man.

"I despise you…" she still managed to whisper against his ear.

"I am charmed by you, too," he remarked.

With those words he sat up, her fragile body in his arms. Soft fingers forced her chin upwards; a shiver ran down Minerva's spine as a pair of eyes locked with her own, seeing right through her.

"Are you going to kill me?" the woman inquired casually.

"No, I am going to give you a hand with your wounds," he acknowledged.

"When whatever you did to me wears off, I am going to pull you apart… With my bare hands," a threatening whisper left her mouth.

"Before you do pull me apart, I am going to help you." The stranger put one hand on her eyes. "Calm you need be for that."

The woman drifted off on his shoulder and for that Gandalf felt glad. There could be no way she would let him touch her when she's conscious.

The grip around her waist tightened and the wizard stood up with a heavy sigh. He carried the woman to the bed where he had last left her, and gently laid her body on it. Her skin looked even paler than before, it had lost most of its colour. With a caring hand Gandalf touched her forehead, but the contact only caused his worry to increase. The woman was burning with high fever.

Leaving the room, the grey wizard fetched a wet cloth, a glass of cool water and a light duvet. He left water on the bedside table while the cloth rested on her burning forehead. Gandalf pulled his nightshirt away from her body for it to cool down, and took a look at her wound. It looked quite alright, there was no blood on the white bandage, but he would have to check up on it later. The man covered the slim figure of the woman with the duvet and slumped on an armchair beside the bed. That was all he could do for the moment.

Still, his eyes rested upon her milky white skin, her raven locks and fevered face. This woman was strange. Traces of age lingered on her features, but they were full of sorrow and pain. She had suffered before. The wizard could tell that by how she attacked him for the need to save someone. And the coldness in her voice. Oh, how cold it had sounded as it was directed at him, the harshness of it told him that this woman was not one to mess with.

And so the thoughts of her went on and on in his head as his blue eyes read the depths of her soul.

Minerva McGonagall opened her irises once again, only to be met with the same distorted image of a wall. She sat up slowly, the duvet fell from her bare shoulders. The woman did not know what to think as she found herself in only undergarments, in other words - almost naked. But her rage disappeared as her eyes fell upon a white bandage wrapped around her waist. That someone who she attacked had tried to save her?

Still, Minerva attentively glanced around, not quite aware of her surroundings. Her square glasses found the place on the bridge of her nose where they belonged. Finally, her sight came back and the first thing she noticed was a pile of neatly folded clothes lying on the bedside table.

Silently as ever the witch rose on her feet and took a piece of clothing from the top of the pile. After unfolding, she found brown fitting pants with silver belt. Pants … really? Minerva hadn't worn clothing like that since she went to Hogwarts herself. And it was a long time ago… a very long time ago. But there was no other choice but to wear the thing.

With a sigh, Minerva pulled the pants on and buckled them with the belt. Without another thought the woman pulled the other clothes on, put her hair in a loose bun and cautiously went to the door before her. Her eyes caught the reflection of herself in a mirror.

She looked strange with these clothes on, even different. The witch was not accustomed to attire like this, she had worn robes for the most of her life. Still, the black shirt quite fitted her, and the knee length boots were rather comfortable.

Without sound door closed behind her back as Minerva left the room. It only took five steps for the witch to draw her wand out and swiftly point it at… Albus?

I must be imagining things, thoughts swarm in her empty head, but she still lowered her weapon. Blue eyes, silver hair, grey beard and robes. Now that's one of a coincidence.

But was it fortune or disaster?

"Did you come here with the intention to kill me? Or specifically, pull me apart with your bare hands?" the man inquired in a lightly taunting manner.

Minerva could only breathe, examining the man before her. Words tried to escape from inside but only turned into a dry gulp, which caused the grey stranger to rise an eyebrow at her.

Suddenly, the witch crossed her arms on her chest and began in ice cold tone, "With that attitude I just might."

For a brief second surprise ran across the man's face, but it was not lost for Minerva. "Why so amazed? Did you not think I could talk? Or are you taken aback by my answer?"

This time the grey stranger was the one who stood speechless for a minute. "Neither. I was just merely surprised at how harshly you speak to me."

"What else do you expect? I know nothing of who you are, nor where I am." The witch frowned slightly. "Are you a death eater?" A spark of warning flickered in her emerald eyes as she gripped her wand tighter.

The man thought for a while but then replied, "I am not aware of that name, but I am certainly not a death eater."

"Then why did you try to attack me?" Minerva demanded.

"For all I remember, you were the one who tackled me on the ground and threatened to kill me. Was that not what happened?" he answered bluntly.

The witch was dead silent. What kind of death eater would help her, heal her and talk so strangely politely? And he did tell her he meant no harm. Was he truly not foe but an ally?

"I-I own you an apology…" the woman stammered, seemingly out of character.

"Gandalf," the man filled her pause. "Gandalf the Grey."

"Gandalf," Minerva repeated. "Forgive me. I did not mean to threat—"

"No apology is in need... I'm sorry, but I don't think I caught your name?" Gandalf interrupted her with a calm smile.

"Minerva McGonagall."

"Well then, Minerva McGonagall, this might be the beginning of our unlikely friendship." The man beamed at her sincerely.

Gandalf stretched his hand before the woman and waited for her to react. After a second of glancing, Minerva put her hand in his palm and locked her emerald eyes with his sapphire orbs.

"It might just be." The witch smiled as the man softly kissed her hand.