Betwixt and Between
I hope that this story will emerge as a relatively lengthy one chronicling Minerva McGonagall's experiences during the year covered by Deathly Hallows. However, I am rather busy in Real Life at the moment, and may not always update as quickly as I would like. Therefore, each chapter can also stand alone as a one shot. I'd also appreciate a Harry Potter beta, so drop me a line if you fancy the job. I warn you though, I'm fussy!
I hope you enjoy this bit, whether it's read as the prelude to a longer story, or as ficlet.
Prologue
It is the first day of a new academic year, and I am standing in front of my mirror.
"Straighten your hat, woman!" the mirror says grumpily.
I obey. The hat was only slightly to an angle in any case, but the mirror in my rooms has always been rather ... particular. Reflexively, I check that the stone in my claddagh brooch lines up precisely in the middle. My hands linger there a moment. Always before, I have worn some touch of green ... in my brooch, on my hat, my robes. I have always seen it as a tangible link to my Celtic ancestry. Not today. Perhaps never again. My claddagh is gold set with ruby, instead of the old silver. My robes are a rich red rather than emerald green. For so many years I have worn silver and green together, uncaring of the significance Hogwarts attaches to those colours. Today, I look what I am: a Gryffindor.
Shortly I must go down to welcome the school along with the rest of the staff, but for the first time in nearly thirty years I will not stand at the great double front doors, awaiting the influx of new first years. I am sorry for it. To see them every year, so young, so eager, and in some cases, trying to hide their fear ... always, it has given me a sense of renewed energy and renewed hope.
It is oddly appropriate that these things will be lacking this year, I think. Then I give myself a shake. I am being ridiculous, I tell myself firmly as I leave my quarters. Albus is dead, but Hogwarts will go on, as it has always done. Dark Lords have risen before, and inevitably they fell. So it will be this time.
I clasp my hands to still their trembling as I take my place at the staff table. The Headmaster looks at me, and something glitters in his eyes. I do not want to know what it is. I nod at my colleagues, and then keep my gaze firmly focused on the doors, waiting to see the children enter.
When they do arrive, in a fluid rush of black topped with more black, with brown and blonde and bright Weasley red ... I hear a concerted gasp as they falter for a moment.
"Snape!" they say. "How-?"
The little green-and-silver Slytherins are the first to take their places. They seem overjoyed. Then cautious Ravenclaw and uncertain Hufflepuff. Finally my Gryffindors. The youngest ones look white and shaken, and their elders appear little better. They are shooting furtive glances at me, questioning glances.
I try to meet their eyes imperturbably. Neville Longbottom looks deeply horrified, poor lad. He has always feared Sev- Headmaster Snape. Ginny Weasley's bright eyes remain fixed on my face, as though she hopes I will reassure her somehow.
I cannot. I know their unspoken question.
Why is it, they wonder, that Severus Snape, who is many years my junior in age and experience, takes the centre seat that is, in their eyes, rightfully mine? I was – am – Deputy Headmistress. I know in this new climate I may not long retain that title, but I will fight for it. Not because I love power, but because in these days I must make full use of the authority which is legitimately mine, if I am to protect my children.
All of them.
As silence falls, and the Headmaster rises to greet the school, I find myself remembering the day I discovered the change of regime.
I'd been sitting in the office that had belonged to Albus, and that I was futilely trying to adopt, when Severus entered. I glanced up at him over the top of my spectacles.
He said nothing, but simply stood with his arms crossed in front of him.
I tutted. "Well? What can I do for you, Severus? As you can see, I am extremely- "
"You can give me my office, for a start," he said abruptly.
I dropped my quill. Distantly, I noted with chagrin that I had left a large ink blot on the new timetable.
"I beg your pardon?" I gasped - rather foolishly, it must be admitted.
Severus Snape's thin lips twitched. "I was not aware that you had lost your hearing, Minerva."
My hands trembled. I dropped more ink, this time on the old table. I tried to remove it, but only succeeded in rubbing the liquid darkness into the grain of the wood. "I – I am sorry, Severus. Of course I heard you." I took a deep breath, and tried not exhale with a shudder. "The Ministry has appointed you as Headmaster?" I asked, as steadily as I could.
He smirked. There is no other word for it. "Indeed. Finally, they have seen sense. This school has been in the hands of Gryffindors for too long."
"They have run the school well, in good times and bad," I told him, no longer attempting to hide the tremor in my voice. "And after all Albus did for you, Severus, how can you dare to stand there - !" The words you murderer hovered unspoken, but Severus is an accomplished Legilimens, and I am certain he heard.
He placed his hands on the desk and leaned towards me. For the first time, I understood precisely why he terrified the children. "You know nothing of what lay between myself and Albus Dumbledore," he hissed. "If you value your position, Deputy Headmistress, you would be advised to hold your tongue."
I felt the colour drain from my face. I knew from the twitch of his eyelid that he had noted it too. I rose with some difficulty, but I was trembling so hard that I managed to get tangled in my robes.
Severus held out a hand. "May I help you, Professor?" he asked with poisonous courtesy.
I recoiled. "I am not yet so old that I need your – your help!" I spat at him. "You have claimed your place. Well, you may take possession of it now. I wish you joy of it!"
With a flourish, I transfigured my work so that it was small enough to be placed in my capacious pockets. The last thing I wanted to do in my distress was leave a trail of confidential parchments across the castle. Then I whipped out of the office.
As the upper door closed behind me, I leaned against the stone walls, and tried to regain my composure. An unfamiliar sound drifted through the door. A sound I did not believe I had ever heard from the lips of Severus Snape.
Laughter.
Malicious, mocking, triumphant laughter.
I clapped a hand over my mouth and fled to the haven of Gryffindor Tower.
"Professor? Professor McGonagall?"
I give myself a small shake, and find myself looking into the dark eyes of our new Headmaster as we sit side by side at the table in the Great Hall. For a long moment we hold the gaze, both searching, neither finding.
"I would offer to assist you to rise, Professor, but since I know you despise my help…."
"What is it, Severus?" I interrupt, too heartsick to be formal.
He indicates the Gryffindor table. "I think your little … lions need you." His lips curl in a sneer.
I rose and looked down at him where he still sat. "Allow me to give you a word of advice, Mr Snape. A single teacher, or a head of house, may show a degree of – partiality, shall we say? A headmaster or mistress must be above such petty rivalries."
The curl of Severus' lips becomes more pronounced. "And Albus was such a wonderful example of that lauded impartiality, was he not? I hear you, Minerva."
I flinch a little at the sound of my name on his lips.
He smiles in his cold way, and I am filled with a sudden and desperate longing to see Albus Dumbledore's twinkling blue gaze. Offering me those blasted lemon drops, no doubt… I nod at Snape, briefly, and sweep down to my poor Gryffindors, my arms spread wide.
"Come, children! What are you waiting for? Mr Longbottom, Miss Weasley, lead the way to the common room."
Neville and Ginny glance at each other, but they are quick to do my bidding, and Gryffindor rises to file out of the hall. They are too shaken to be anything but orderly. I am at the tail. I do not look back at the staff table as we leave.