Disclaimers: The Potterverse and all associated characters, places, and objects belong to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros.

I've been wanting to write a Minerva-centric story for a while, but my other attempt (Betwixt and Between) was going nowhere fast, partly, I think, because I am not yet confident in my ability to write a pure Minerva pov. Then I read Elspeth's Not All Scars Are Visible right here on and was intrigued by the character of Vesta McGonagall. I liked the idea of MM having a younger sister at Hogwarts who was a contemporary of the Marauders, and wanted to know more. Then I remembered the mysterious 'M. G. McGonagall' in the first HP film, and decided that the name would provide the basis for my story. In addition, I cut my fanfic teeth on writing school stories, and as an ex pupil of a boarding school myself, I believe I can write them with some effectiveness. I hope you agree, and that you enjoy, despite the near OCness of Meta McGonagall!

NB: This is not a shippy story, but there will (obviously) be plenty of ADMM interaction, although it's more likely to be canonical than not.

Finally, read and review. And I'm open to beta-offers.

(Gah. It won't let me format italics!!)

Prologue
"Oh," said Professor Minerva McGonagall blankly.

The Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry usually enjoyed checking the list of incoming students each year. It was interesting and exciting to identify the children of contemporaries, friends and enemies, and to speculate on the backgrounds of the less familiar names. She was less accustomed to finding her own surname amongst the 'M's.

She was roused from her reverie by the descent of a warm hand on her shoulder, and the sound of her employer's voice. "Minerva? What is it?"

She glanced up at him with her lips quirking in her version of a smile. "I'm sorry, Albus; I was a little distracted. Did you say something?"

The Headmaster smiled, his eyes twinkling behind their half-moon glasses. "Nothing of any consequence. I was simply being a nosy old man and wondering what it was about that list that had you sounding so startled. Raspberry drop?"

Minerva snorted and waved away the bag of hard blood-red sweets that Albus Dumbledore was wafting under her nose. "No, thank you. I prefer to keep my teeth in good order, even if you don't. No; there's nothing wrong as such, I was simply – startled – to see my own surname on this." She indicated the parchment.

Dumbledore's bushy eyebrows went up, and he attempted to speak through his mouthful of boiled sweet. His friend and deputy glared at him.

"Really, Albus, if you want to start a serious conversation, at least have the goodness to put that stuff away before you speak! Honestly, you'd think you'd have more sense at your age!"

With a final crack, Dumbledore succeeded in disposing of the offending sweet, and he smiled gently. "My dear Minerva, most of my life is now behind me. Would you begrudge an old man one of his few remaining pleasures?"

Minerva gave vent to another snort. "Don't you try to put me on a guilt trip, Albus Dumbledore. Poppy would agree with me and you know it. And as for being old, you'll outlive us all."

The Headmaster's eyes continued to twinkle, but he took the hint. "So who's our new McGonagall?" he queried in a conversational tone as he pocketed his precious sweets and returned to his seat.

Minerva's hands twisted around the ancient scroll. The sound of the parchment crackling in protest made her gasp and she replaced it carefully on the table in front of her. "It's my younger sister. My much younger half sister, rather. Her name is Meleta Gallia. Her mother – her mother was Rosa Mundin."

"Rosa Mundin? Wasn't she one of your Transfiguration stars during your first years here?"

Minerva grimaced. "She was. She wanted to train as an Animagus, and I was very naïve then, and made the mistake of bringing her home for intensive training the summer she finished school. My father, er - "

"Took a shine to her," Professor Dumbledore supplemented, his lips twitching with amusement.

McGonagall sent him a hard look. "It's not funny, Albus. How do you think I felt, finding myself with a stepmother who is almost young enough to be my daughter? When Meleta was born - " She threw her hands up and sighed. "Well, all this raking up of past history does no-one any good. Meleta's name is on the List and that's all there is to it."

"I wonder if she'll be in Gryffindor?"

Minerva paled. "Heavens, I hope not! I almost wish that Rosa could be convinced to allow the child to enter under 'Mundin', but I know better than to get into an argument with her over it. Honestly, Albus, you've never seen anything like the way she spoils that child!"

"A little spoiling does most children no harm, Minerva," Dumbledore said gently. "As for the other, your relationship would emerge eventually, and in the meantime there would be gossip. Do you really want that for yourself or the child?"

"I -. Of course not!"

"Well, then. You need not worry about being seen to 'have favourites'. Everyone knows how scrupulous you are, and if they know the truth about Meleta from the first, no-one will think anything of it if you do choose to spend some time with her."

Minerva's black brows contracted. "I doubt I shall," she confessed. "I am very busy, as you know, and in all honesty, I find it difficult to sustain an individual conversation with a child for long." She dropped her quill and began to pace. "Merlin knows I was never the most socially competent of people, even as a child myself."

"You give yourself too little credit, my dear. Regardless, I am looking forward to meeting Miss McGonagall the younger. I am sure it will bring back many fond memories."

Minerva humphed in response, but when she turned back to her list, she found that the idea of having her little sister at Hogwarts had become ... interesting rather than intimidating or embarrassing. Yes, interesting was the right word, she mused. The next year promised to be just that.