Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

It was...dark, not so dark that she could not see, but still to dark for it to be safe to walk around. Now a days, even Hogwarts' grounds were no impenetrable. No one was safe from the ever-looming presence of Tom Marvalo Riddle - not Albus Dumbledore or even the Minister of Magic. That had been proven, as they had both died in the last three months. These times were dark, but not so dark that one – with a hopeful eye – could not see.

But hope was hard to find. The Order of the Phoenix was stretch to it's limits, to few good wizards were left to fight the Death Eaters and their Lord. The Ministry had fallen to the hands of the corrupt long ago and there was only one last semi-safe place – Hogwarts. But even there, the sons and daughters of Death Eaters spied and tortured students - and even teachers - stealing the little hope that survived in their hearts. So she, Professor McGonagall, did everything she could to protect her students and their fragile hopes.

Very few had expected Voldemort to return as he had, three years ago – it had taken a very personal appearance, on his part, in the Ministry of Magic HQ before anyone believed that he was back. Very few had expected Voldemort to return as he had – and now even fewer people believed that he would ever leave. No one believed that the terrible tragedy their lives had become would ever, could ever, end.

Professor McGonagall marched swiftly toward the northern gate of Hogwarts, locking it with spell and key, before continuing a little less apprehensively into the school. Once back in her humble quarters, the transfigurations professor whipped off her heavy winter cloak, the warmth of the log fire banishing the mid-January chill from her old bones. With Dumbledore dead she was very lucky to even be teaching at Hogwarts – she was sure that Severus Snape would have gotten rid of all of the teaching staff if there were enough Death Eaters to replace them. She hated to imagine that, as the two that currently taught (Defense Against) the Dark Arts were horrid enough as it was.

Professor McGonagall knew of the secret "army" that hid in the room of requirement. She had often gone to speak with them, offering a boost of moral and news from the world. They were always anxious for news of Harry Potter, and it sadden Minerva to see their defeated expressions every time she said "There is no news of Harry Potter, or Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley.". In truth, they were the only people that Minerva knew that hadn't given up hope. No one had seen or heard of the Golden trio in months. They had all earned a place in her heart as the bravest wizards of their age (she was actually quite disappointed that some of them were not in Gryffindor). She regretted that she could not stay with the army and offer them guidance and support, but her duties as the Head of Gryffindor house were rather strained as of late.

After quickly changing into her sleeping attire, the transfiguration professor sat down in a rather Spartan armchair – opening a thick volume on extremely advanced transfiguration. Minerva had constantly found herself studying as of late. She was incredibly unnerved by the two Death Eaters gone Professors that now taught at Hogwarts, and thus found herself constantly on edge. The 60-some year-old witch even begun exercising regularly in an attempt to fight off the symptoms of old age. Minerva had been fighting this war since she first bought her wand, and she was determined to see it through. She had worked to hard and too long to die now. She was determined to see this war through.

After reading thoroughly the chapter entitled 'On Preventing Transformations',
the old witch nodded off in a rather uncomfortable position while sitting in her armchair, exhausted from tampering with the Hogwarts wards all day.

Well, I just couldn't get this one out of my head, so I decided to put it on paper!

I'll continue it if I get enough support – I do have some inkling of a plot, but ideas are welcome too!