It was midnight, and the common room was empty except for a bespectacled seventh year girl bent over a heavy book, with a stack of other books waiting beside her. The rest of Gryffindor house had gone to bed, but she had her NEWTs to look forward to, and was going to put in as much studying as she could before it was too late. Even her fellow seventh-years weren't taking it very seriously, saying that it didn't make sense to worry about NEWTs when they could be attacked at any moment, but Minerva was convinced that they were just looking for excuses. It was precisely because she'd placed the highest priority on academic excellence that she'd achieved the honor of Head Girl, and she wasn't about to let herself get distracted when she was so close to leaving Hogwarts with seven years of perfect marks.

Still, studying alone in the dead of night with the fearful atmosphere created by those damned attacks, and subsisting only on invigorating potions to keep from falling asleep, was proving to be harder than she'd anticipated. She found herself staring at the same sentence for several minutes without understanding a word of it. With a sigh, she took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes hard. She picked up her wand from on top of the stack of books next to her and tapped on her empty goblet on the table; instantly it filled with a steaming potion, which she blew on and sipped carefully.

The sudden creaking sound of the portrait-hole opening startled her so that the hot drink sloshed onto her lap, and she gasped. She whipped her glasses back on and turned around, half expecting to find the mysterious monster that had the school in such a frenzy, but was relieved to see only a student coming in late. She stood up, hoping he wouldn't see the wet spot on the front of her robes, crossed her arms, and tried to give him a stern look to cover up her surprise.

"You shouldn't be wandering the halls at this time of night," she said.

She recognized the boy as Hagrid, a third year who was bigger than the biggest Slytherin Beater. He looked at her with big, round eyes. "Sorry, I din' think anyone'd be up," he said. "I'll… I'll jus' go on ter bed now…" He hunched over, as if trying to make himself look small- a laughable prospect- and started to move toward the boys' dorms.

Minerva walked over and stood in his path. Even as tall as she was, the younger Hagrid towered over her. But she drew herself up to her full height with her fists on her hips and, surprisingly, the boy cringed. "What on earth were you doing out there?" she said in a harsh whisper. "It's against the rules to be out after hours. And, I might add, exceptionally dangerous these days," she said, dropping her hands to her sides and feeling her stern demeaner crumple in the face of that fear. Damn that awful Chamber of Secrets and its contemptible Monster.

She sighed. "As Head Girl, I should take action. But I don't want to have to report you to the head-of-house for this," she said. "Whatever it was could have waited until morning. Next time, you will remember that, I hope?"

The boy looked repentantly at his shoes. "I'm sorry. It won' happen again."

"See that it doesn't," she said, stepping aside and allowed him to shuffle into the boys' dormitory. The front of her robe was still wet from spilling her potion – she dried it with a flick of her wand. She turned to look once more at her daunting stack of books, and sighed deeply. She should be going to bed, she reminded herself, though with her nerves as frayed as they were she knew she would have a hard time relaxing. She gathered the books into her bag and retreated to the girl's dormitory for the night.

***

At breakfast the next morning, Minerva received a small scroll of parchment bound with a purple ribbon. Inside was this message:

You have been invited to a small get-together to celebrate the end of classes and relieve tension before exam time. Hope to see you in my office at 8:00!

Sincerely,

Professor Slughorn

She shook her head and sighed. Another meeting of the "Slug Club". This would really cut into her studying time. But come to think of it, she had been very tense lately, as had everyone else in the school. What would be the harm in letting her hair down for just a few hours before NEWTs really started? It might calm her nerves enough to get through the tests. She rolled the scroll back up and slipped it into an inner pocket of her robes before going to the library, where she had been spending most of her time.

On her way walking down the length of the Gryffindor table, Minerva saw Hagrid, the third-year who had come in late the night before. He seemed to be furtively filling his pockets with food. Minerva shook her head in amazement, but did not stop him; she was not surprised that three meals a day were not enough to keep up with his latest growth spurt, and that he needed to take a little extra. She pretended she hadn't seen, and instead turned to admonish a nearby fourth-year who was placing an inappropriate charm on his baked beans.

***

That evening Minerva walked into Slughorn's office, where several Slytherin boys were already gathered around the plump and epicurean professor, eager for his favor. Truth be told, she had never really thought much of the company that Slughorn always invited to his "small get-togethers," or at least of the Slytherins he invited. But she had been invited… and had never liked the idea of saying no to a teacher.

She headed straight for a table off to the side where snacks were laid out, and where a couple of non-Slytherins were gathered. They were discussing what it seemed nobody could get off their minds lately: the Chamber of Secrets, and possible identities of the Heir of Slytherin.

"It's got to be a Slytherin, right?" a young blonde boy, Brian Griswald, who played Keeper for the Hufflepuff team, was saying. "That much should be obvious."

"Not necessarily," said Janice, a Ravenclaw girl, a little shakily; Minerva recognized her as the older sister of one of the first students to have been attacked. "Well, it stands to reason that it probably was a descendant of Slytherin, but that doesn't mean… well, Houses don't always run in families. Everyone in my family was in Gryffindor."

"Maybe, but I don't see anyone in any other house even wanting to open up that Chamber," Griswald was saying. "Who else would want to attack students with mixed blood? Slytherins are the only one that stuff really matters to. Even Slughorn obviously…"

"I wouldn't be so quick to conclude," interrupted a dark-haired fifth-year, who had just joined the discussion, "that the so-called 'heir' has such an obvious motive." It was Tom Riddle, a Slytherin, the staff's favorite boy. He reached across the group and picked up a chocolate from the table, which he tossed in the air and caught in his mouth. "For all we know," he said, with a quick swallow, "it's just some fool who was looking for excitement, too big for his britches, and never knew what he was getting into… doesn't know how dangerous that monster can be. Someone who wants a pet, but thinks an owl is a bit too conventional."

Griswald scoffed. "I hardly think anyone's that dumb."

"Oh?" Tom turned to look at Janice, the Ravenclaw girl. "I heard you saying it isn't necessarily a Slytherin – and on behalf of all my housemates, I thank you for that," he chuckled again. "Clearly you know the dangers of judgment without cause. I'm sure that if evidence points to someone… unexpected, you can be trusted to judge only by the evidence. Am I right?"

Janice frowned, her brow tightly wrinkled. "That is correct…" she said, then hesitated before she said more. "And if it is as you suggest," she said, looking around at her classmates with a little trepidation, "then I almost hope that it is someone who is just being foolish, and not outright malicious. I cannot bear the thought of someone in this school being so… well, so evil.." She fell silent, looking down into the goblet of punch in her hand. For a moment they all stood in silence.

Then Tom looked from one student for another before nailing Minerva with an oddly penetrating gaze. "What do you think, McGonagall? You're the oldest of us, and you're Head Girl. Do you think anyone in, say, your own house is liable to (just by accident mind you) blunder into a matter too dangerous for his abilities to handle? Maybe someone who's a little too trusting, a little too muddle-headed, for his own good? Or anyone else's?"

Minerva returned his unreadable stare evenly. "If you have someone in mind," she said quietly, "I'm sure I don't know who it is."

Riddle chuckled and shook his head. "Not at all. I'll be the last to throw around accusations, not without proof anyway. I just hope people will keep an open mind." He looked once more at each person in turn. "Just remember… it could be anyone."

Just then, a high-pitched cry, like that of a lady about to faint, made the four of them turn to look toward the door. Professor Dumbledore was standing at the door, and it seemed to have been Professor Slughorn who had cried out, as he was looking pale and horrified at Dumbledore, whose head was bowed solemnly. Slughorn turned and gestured to the assembled students to come to the door.

"Come, come, a terrible thing has happened! We must get you all back to your common rooms…"

"What happened?" said a student.

"Was it another attack?" said another, and at the suggestion the room erupted into panicked chatter. Slughorn motioned with his hands for them to settle down.

"Now, now, I'm sure it's nothing to… well, yes, I suppose it is reason to panic, but please, do stay calm," Slughorn, his voice still pitched too high, clearly not following his own advice. Dumbledore came up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder; Slughorn thankfully stepped aside and let him address the party, which fell silent immediately.

Dumbledore looked around at them very gravely. "Childen," he said, "I feel I must be truthful with you. There has been another attack…" there were gasps around the room… "and I am grieved to tell you that the worst has happened: one of your classmates has been killed." More horrified gasps, and then a flurry of whispers.

"Who was it?" shouted someone from the back of the room.

Dumbledore raised a hand to silence them. "I cannot say until the student's parents have been informed. There will be an announcement, but I felt it was your right to know the seriousness of this. There is to be no wandering the corridors once you have returned to your common rooms, and you will heed any of your teachers' instructions, is that clear?" There was a murmur of general assent. "Now, we shall travel together as a group; nobody is to be left alone. Wands out – I want all of you on your guard."

He turned to lead them out of the office, and Slughorn hung back toward the rear to be sure nobody would lag behind as they walked down the corridors.

***

Minerva and the Gryffindor prefects struggled to keep order in a common room alive with gossip, speculation, and general panic. Eventually Minerva managed to get everyone's attention by standing up on a table and demanding that they go to bed, or at least into their dormitories, and try to get some rest; they were safer in Gryffindor Tower than anywhere else, and nothing could be done for now, not until the headmaster made a decision of what to do. Then, after a brief struggle, it was just her and the prefects in the common room.

"You go to bed too," she said. "Keep your own dormitories in order. I'll stay here… in case someone comes in with news." Once she was alone in the common room, she crumpled into an armchair and buried her face in her hands, accidentally knocking her glasses askew. A quiet voice in her head was nagging her, as if there was something she should be noticing, something missing. Suddenly she lifted her head up, her eyes wide open.

"Hagrid!" she said out loud, then looked around, half-expecting someone to have heard her. She hadn't seen his hulking, conspicuous form in the common room with everyone else… she hadn't noticed his absence because she was distracted by trying to control everyone else. Where could he be? And for God's sake, why? Unless…

"No," she said out loud, going numb all over. "No, not him…"

She leapt a foot into the air when she heard the portrait door swing open, and she wheeled around to see who was there; relief washed over her like a torrent when she saw Hagrid slumping miserably through the hole, with Professor Dumbledore following closely after. Dumbledore and gave Minerva a small nod, but Hagrid kept his eyes fixed firmly to the ground – with a clench of her stomach, she noticed tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Take your time, Rubeus," he said while Hagrid climbed the stairs toward the boys' dormitories, and stood waiting at the foot, looking very troubled.

Minerva hurried toward the professor – always her favorite teacher, master of her best subject and a true mentor in every respect. "Professor, what's going on?" she asked, though she was sure it was out of her place to do so.

Dumbledore sighed and looked down at her. "Minerva," he said heavily, "it is not really my place to tell you this, but if anyone would advocate for..." his voice trailed off for a moment, and then he began again. "Will you respect Rubeus's privacy?" he asked.

"Of course," she said, frowning.

Dumbledore looked once more up the staircase, then motioned for her to come closer, and whispered. "Rubeus has been accused of causing the attacks," he said, and Minerva gasped.

"No, it can't…" she started, then stopped, lost in thought. She had never had reason to believe Hagrid to be a troublemaker, despite half the staff treating him like… like… well, like something not as respectable as the "normal" students. Something about him seemed to arouse a knee-jerk prejudice, whether it was his size, his less-than-extraordinary magical ability, or even his tendency to seem… well, not all that bright. She suspected that some of the teachers even wanted him to get in trouble, as if this would confirm their suspicions that he had some kind of animal nature, that he was less than human. And if there was one thing Hagrid had made clear, it was that anyone who would discriminate against muggle-borns was to him a disgrace to wizardry. But, as Tom had been saying, the heir's motives might not be so obvious…

"Who's accusing him?" she asked suddenly, though she suspected she knew the answer

"A prefect, a very highly-regarded student: Tom Riddle. I believe you know him?"

Minerva's eyes widened. In her mind she recalled him just a few hours before, saying I'll be the last to throw around accusations, not without proof anyway. It was as if he had been making sure his views were on the record, as if he had known even then what he would do. "Does he have proof?" she asked.

"The evidence does not favor him. And his own word carries little weight among those who cannot see past appearances." Dumbledore looked at her intensely. "There is not a person on the staff, besides myself, that Tom has not convinced. He is only suspended for now, but he will likely be expelled unless he is proven innocent. I will advocate him before Professor Dippet, but I do not know how much I can accomplish on his behalf." He looked once more up the staircase. Minerva stared at her feet, frowning furiously, unable to believe what was happening.

Tom Riddle… she had never liked him, and not just because he was a Slytherin. Everyone's favorite boy… everyone except Dumbledore. She suspected he could have pointed his accusing finger at anyone, even the headmaster himself, and gotten a fair amount of the staff to take his word for it. Yet she had always seen in him an ominous insincerity; he was almost too charming, too trustworthy, to be real. And Hagrid… as awkward and blundering as he was, she had never known him to lie, or to do anything truly harmful.

But if most of the staff was convinced… what could she do? It would be her word that Hagrid seemed to be a good person, against Tom Riddle and whatever proof he had managed to come up with. And against all her teachers (except for one).

And she was so close to being finished with school, so close to completing her NEWTs. Could she jeopardize that to stand up for someone who was probably going to be expelled anyway? Possibly even imprisoned, if they thought he had actually killed a person? She shuddered. He wouldn't kill a student, would he? Or even set loose a creature that could do so? But how could she know for sure? And if… oh, that terrible if… if he really was behind it all, then perhaps the attacks would finally stop…

She heard a door open upstairs, and turned to see Hagrid coming out of the boys' dormitory, his massive trunk balanced on one impossibly broad shoulder, hanging his head dejectedly. Minerva stepped hurriedly out of his way as he walked by, and watched him and Dumbledore walking toward the portrait-hole, her feet frozen to the floor. Dumbledore looked over his shoulder at her for a moment before they both disappeared into the hall outside. The moment the portrait swung closed, Minerva ran to the nearest armchair and flung herself into it, trying to hold back her terrified sobs.

But what could she do?

***

Decades later, Minerva McGonagall paced the corridors of Hogwarts, as she had taken to doing so often in these dark times. She may be Deputy Headmistress, but a great lot of authority that gave her with that terrible Umbridge reigning over all this chaos, blocking her at every, every turn. Never before in all her memory had Hogwarts been such a terrible place as now, with Dumbledore gone, the Ministry taking over bit by bit, teachers unable to do their jobs, or even to open their mouths, without fear of retribution. She had done her best to defy the contemptible witch who now claimed the undeserved title of "Headmistress," but sometimes it all seemed so futile. And at those times she paced the halls.

She passed a section of corridor which had tall windows along one side overlooking the grounds. It was late, the stars were out, and she attempted to take a deep breath while taking in the darkened landscape, quiet and peaceful…

But it wasn't so peaceful, she saw. She frowned as she saw several dark figures crossing the grounds, one of them easily recognizeable as the squat Umbridge; they were approaching Hagrid's hut at the edge of the forest. Could it be? But why would they come in the middle of the night? And why so many of them? Minerva quickened her pace, then broke into a run toward the entry hall and through the massive front doors of the school. She saw flashes of light across the grounds – there was a duel going on, or more likely an all-out brawl.

She heard Hagrid's voice echoing across the grounds: "Reasonable be damned, yeh won' take me like this, Dawlish!"

Anger surging through her, Minerva ran in the direction of the lights, taking out her wand. It was as she suspected: Umbridge and her lackies were trying to take Hagrid by force! Had they no decency at all? She couldn't turn aside, not now, not this time… she had failed Hagrid before when she could have stood up for him, and she wouldn't do it again. He didn't deserve this.

"How dare you!" she shouted, letting loose all her barely-restrained hatred for Umbridge and all she represented. "How dare you! Leave him alone! Alone, I say!" Some of the aurors turned around, and she noticed at least one raising his wand at her, but she marched on, heedless. "On what grounds are you attacking him? He has done nothing, nothing to warrant such -"

Four red beams of light charged toward her, and a moment later everything went black.