"No."
She raised her right eyebrow pointedly at the youth's outburst of subversion.
"Excuse me?" Minerva used what she thought was an appropriately stern tone. In the past, that particular question had already proven its effectiveness, quenching more violent insurrections from more troublesome children. Yet she noted that, though his audible gulp and fearful shudder seemed to indicate otherwise, his green eyes had barely wavered.
"I'm sorry, Professor. Please let me rephrase..." He thought long and hard under her doubtful gaze. Eventually his eyes met hers with a tame, respectful defiance. "I understand that you're doing this with both my and the school's best interests in mind." He reddened a bit "I also understand that you think my reticence is simply a fourteen-year-old's shyness at the prospect of having to ask a girl to a ball, and having to open it with a dance. I won't insult you by pretending that it hasn't weighed in my decision..."
Well that was a pretty strong overture, she waited patiently for him to form the inevitable 'but'.
"In fact, if I may be so bold..."
He lifted his gaze and smiled at her with gentle humour. The 'but' would have to wait: Mr. Potter felt bold, for a change. Well it was a rare occurrence to see him feel bold right to her face.
"If I may be so bold, I... I want you to know I'm grateful for what you're trying to do. I understand that you're looking out for me, here. I'm pretty sure that you think this ball would end up being a welcome distraction from this year's new and improved plot-to-kill-the-boy-who-lived."
Minerva was both impressed and depressed at that remark. Before she caught them, her eyes flickered to her joined hands resting on her desk in a short-lived expression of shame. She hoped he hadn't caught it. She didn't want to confirm or deny, but he already had an awkward look of tentative reassurance about him.
"And if I'm being perfectly honest, perhaps it would be. Normal teenager stuff: courting, asking girls out... Spending a nice evening dancing in formal wear... But."
Finally. His embarrassed gratefulness dissolved, leaving a husk of his smile behind; a hollow ghost of his appreciation on his forlorn expression.
"But I'm afraid shyness is only an afterthought here. If it were just that, I would resign myself..." His eyes had a sudden burst of renewed humour "I would try to grapple with my courage only to fail miserably, and end up being a pretty terrible date for a perfectly nice girl whose only fault would have been to have two feet and a self-esteem for me to accidentally trample on like a blundering fool. Normal teenager stuff."
She allowed a good natured smile to pierce through her stern mask. But after this sentence, his grin disappeared completely into a sad resignation.
"No, the real reason is that... Please don't take it personally but..."
He bit his lip.
"I'm sorry, Professor, but you're wrong."
Well saying that would have taken a lot out of him. She almost opened her mouth, but managed to convince her pride to shut up and listen to the core of his argument.
"I'm not representing Hogwarts, Cedric is. I'm not representing Gryffindor, Cedric is: Gryffindor is a part of Hogwarts. The truth is that I'm here because of a... mistake. An injustice, even. And I have to protest it: I find myself bound by a contract that I haven't read or signed, not to mention the fact that even if I had, it should be void because of my age. I have to remind everyone that I am not a champion. In this case – just like in the past three years – it really pains me to say it but I'm not anybody's champion. If we're perfectly honest, I'm just a regular old victim."
Minerva wanted to formulate a response, but his last word and its dejected tone had brutally clenched her throat. So, he continued unimpeded.
"It's like I've been abducted, except I'm still here to see that nobody noticed. As pleasant as it would be to only concern myself with girls and dancing, I can't pretend that everything is fine. Everybody already thinks that I wanted this; I'm already alone in a spotlight which I know for a fact is going to fall on my head and kill me..."
"You're not alone. Your house supports you..." She managed, her voice betraying nothing her emotion.
"I have the support of my house, but only because they want to 'win the Tournament'. My house should be supporting the one who actually represents them. And because of this, they don't. They encourage me, but not in hopes that... not in hope that I live through this ordeal. They have this misguided idea that this is a game and they want to win it. I have this... subtly different idea that this is a mortal peril and I want to survive it. Their cheers don't help with the loneliness I'm afraid, I just feel like a gladiator in the lion pit. And after the stunt I pulled for the first task well... Some are slowly getting it, some are amused by my antics, but most are just angry with me for throwing away what they consider to be a chance."
Minerva's eyes flickered downwards again. Had she been swept up by her own competitive spirit herself?
"My house got caught up in the Tournament as if I were a participant, and you're asking me to do the same; but I'm not a participant. I'm a hostage. I need my peers to realise that. I need them to be on the lookout for a metaphorical ransom note."
Minerva stood up, faced the window of her office. Her vision had started to blur, so she discreetly extracted a handkerchief from her pocket and dried her eyes, disguising her gesture as a thoughtful pinch of the bridge of her nose. Behind her, the student she kept failing to protect had more to say.
"I need at least some of them to be on my side... My real side... I don't know what my enemies are up to, but I do know that this is only step one. I need my friends to be ready for step two."
"And you think not attending the ball would do that?"
"I think being reminded that there should only be three couples dancing on that floor might help. And I think when their eyes look for scarred faces and find only Pr. Moody's... Some will think I'm just being cowardly again, I guess, but some may finally realise that... That something is very wrong... But even if you don't think it'll help, it's all I can do to protest... So I have to do it. I have to be a champion for the tasks, but I don't have to be one for the decorum. And I'm sorry, but no punishment would make me. Short of forcing me to forfeit my magic or my life, like some archaic goblet."
Minerva was silent for a moment. "No punishment? Even if I were to expel you?" Somehow, she heard his eyes shoot at her with a terrified gleam, and realised that this was poor form on her part. These kind of words didn't just fall out of a Gryffindor's mouth by accident, let alone this one – did she really need to test his resolve? She sighed in defeat even before he started to mumble his "well, er... I... I hope you won't, I really, really do, but–" with a rapidly shattering voice.
"I'm sorry."
Minerva let her apology hang in the conversation for a moment. At first, she had meant for it to cover her mean-spirited test, but as she felt his gaze on her back she let further implications flow silently under it. She had failed him quite thoroughly, after all. She turned back to face him, and sat at her desk.
"Well. Let's discuss a deal, then."
He looked at her quizzically.
"I'll allow you not to attend, as long as you find a date who's willing not to attend with you. And I do mean a date. You don't have to dress up, but I expect the both of you to have at least one dance. I can provide music if you need it. That and..."
It was her turn to bite her lip in hesitation. She couldn't believe she was about to suggest what she was about to suggest. She had carried the Yule Ball on her shoulders since long before the school year had begun...
"If this is to be effective... I want you to make it extremely clear that this... That this is in protest rather than shame or cowardice. I don't know how you can convey that message, but... but... As loathe as I am to concede it... maybe..."
Courage, Minerva. She had to stand up for her student, now. If only for penance's sake. Even if she ended up undermining herself, her authority, her work... She rested her forehead on her two pergameneous hands, her elbows planted in her desk, trying very hard to summon a long forgotten youthful house spirit. She finally sighed out a heartbroken sentence which would no doubt cost her a lot:
"Maybe the Weasley twins can help you express this message with sufficient panache."
She looked up at his disbelieving expression as it deepened into a confused frown and an incredulous expression of horrified glee, which she tempered immediately by hissing an absolute caveat.
"I did not tell you this, and whatever they do will not perturb the ball for more than a minute, nor will it disrupt the opening dance at all for the champions do I make myself clear?"
He nodded eagerly. He was particularly grateful that she hadn't said 'the other champions'.
"I want to hear you say it, Mr. Potter."
"No more than a minute, after the opening dance is over. It's all my idea."
She sighed and sat back.
"I suggest you think long and hard about this. I may be required to punish you afterwards..."
He gave her a confused look.
"Appearances have to be kept, Mr. Potter. And by that point, I think you'll agree that you will be in my debt, so to speak." He nodded furiously under her unreadable stare. "On an unrelated note, I think that Animagus training could be construed as an adequate detention for a Transfiguration teacher to give, don't you? Although it would be an exceptionally harsh one: after all, it is excruciatingly difficult. But it can be such an advantage for certain tasks."
Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. He had known, on some level, that McGonagall was a Gryffindor. He had seen her display the trademark house spirit on occasion, when she had given him a spot on the Quidditch team instead of expelling him for instance... And then his first broom... But never had he expected to see her display these qualities so thoroughly for his sake. She seemed like an older Hermione, down to the steel hard, unwavering support in the face of adversity. He had never felt such gratefulness towards an authority figure. Except maybe Sirius when he had invited him to live with him. She was also comparable to Hermione insofar as she was currently planning furiously, trying to both mitigate and improve her idea with specific instructions, and an impressive display of understanding of in-house sociology.
"I can't know the specifics, of course. Under no circumstance are the Weasley twins to know that I had a say in this matter. If you need an authority to ground them, you may recruit... Miss Bell or Miss Spinnet... No, there's no avoiding it: you may recruit Miss Granger to keep them in line... In which case, you may tell Miss Granger – and only her – about my involvement. But only if you absolutely need to. In which case you are to immediately send her to me so that I can impress upon her the importance of secrecy..."
After this, McGonagall hesitated. Harry caught her thoughts on the fly: bringing more people in wasn't safe.
"If Hermione believes me – and that's a big if; I don't know if I'd believe myself – she'd understand. She's the only one who understands me– err... my situation, I mean. I mean she understands the situation I just desc– you know what I mean." His thoughts were somewhat chaotic, but he adapted to her planning process pretty quickly. After all, he had seen it before in his best friend. A thought assaulted him and he had to ask "About that detention..."