A/N: Hi! Thank you all for the LOVELY reviews I've gotten so far on this story. This is my first published Harry Potter fanfic, and I'm glad that people seem to like it so far! In this chapter, things start to pick up a bit. Enjoy!

Minerva McGonagall led the first years into the Great Hall on September first, 1991. There was quite the amount of chatter among the students, all having heard that Harry Potter was in their class. Minerva, however, was more concerned that her daughter was among the group she was leading towards the Sorting Hat. She was quite certain that Hermione would be in Gryffindor. After all, both of her biologic parents were at one time Head of the Gryffindor house. As she read the names of the children, her heart tensed with excitement for her daughter.

"Granger, Hermione!" she called, after many other names. Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat. Minerva heard a groan from a redheaded boy still waiting to be Sorted. Must be a Weasley, she thought. Just what I need, another one running amok. She went on with the Sorting, although her mind was in a completely different place. Does Albus realise his daughter was just Sorted? She knew it was a silly question, of course he knew. He had to; he knew very well that the Muggle family she was given to were the Grangers. Once she got to the name Harry Potter, though, her mind came back to the present.

"Potter, Harry!" she called out. The entire hall errupted with whispers, but for Minerva, the name brought back a memory different from what the rest of the hall must've been thinking. All except for Albus, perhaps.

Ten years ago

It was November first, and Minerva McGonagall was in her Animagus form, sitting on the corner of Privet Drive in Little Whinging. She was reading a map, checking to make sure that she was at the correct address. She had heard from Hagrid of Albus' plans tonight, he was bringing the Potter boy to his relatives. She waited all day, sitting on the curb, waiting for her colleague to finally apear. She was shooed by a large, beefy-like Muggle; she returned it with one of her famous glares. Maybe I have the wrong address, she thought. But sure enough, after a full day of waiting amongst Muggles, Albus Dumbledore showed up on Privet Drive. The moment she saw him Apparate onto the street, she narrowed her eyes and twitched her tail. It was nearly midnight. Dumbledore looked up at her, chucking. "I shoud have known." He rummaged in his cloak for something, and pulled out his Deluminator. As he eliminated the lights from the streetlamps, he sat down next to her.

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall." She transformed back into her human self, and looked up at him.

"How did you know it was me?" she asked.

"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."

"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," she said.

"All day? When you could have been celebrating ? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."

Minerva sniffed angrily.

"Oh yes, everyone's been celebrating, all right." She was getting impatient. Not only had two of her favorite students been murdered the day before, she had to deal with Muggles treating her like a common alley cat all day. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no - even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." She jerked her head back at the Dursleys' dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls . . . shooting stars . . . Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent - I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."

"You can't blame them," Albus said gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."

"I know that," she said irratbly. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors." Minerva threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore, hoping he would tell her something. As usual, he never did. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?" She was getting very annoyed with the old man; Albus seemed to have realised. Minerva rarely used his surname.

"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"

"A what?"

"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."

"No, thank you," she said coldy. This was not the moment for lemon drops, she thought. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone -"

"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You-Know-Who' nonsense - for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort." Minerva flinched as Albus unwrapped two lemon drops and continued on. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name."

"I know you haven't," Minerva said, half exasperated and half admiring. She knew quite all right that he had no problem saying the name. After all, he was the one who saved her from the boy Voldemort back in her days as a student. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was frightened of."

"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have"

"Only because you're too - well - noble to use them," she said.

"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."

Minerva shot him a sharp look. Ever since their night together two years ago, he would subtly hint at it every chance he got. Did he like making her feel embarassed? Did he need to constantly rub it in her face, that he, Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of his time, had gotten the always calm and collected Minerva McGonagall to scream out his name in pleasure in his private quarters all those nights ago? "The owls are nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. You know what everyone's saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?" She had reached the point that she most wanted to discuss with the Headmaster. She had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day for this, and she was determined to find out what the truth was in those rumors. She gave Dumbledore such a piercing stare as he chose another lemon drop and remained silent.

"What they're saying," she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are - are- that they're - dead."

Dumbledore bowed his head, and Minerva gasped.

"Lily and James . . . I can't believe it . . . I didn't want to believe it . . . Oh, Albus . . ." Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. She shuttered at his touch. She couldn't believe that these two brilliant young people could be dead. She had watched them grow from little first years, constantly bickering, to seventh years madly in love. She had seen them grow up into lovers, and was at the wedding of the two. When the news arrived of their baby, she was ecstatic for them, for she knew the joys a child could bring. To think that they were now gone; well, it tore her heart right from her chest.

"I know . . . I know . . ." he said heavily.

Minerva went on, though her voice was trembling. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's son, Harry. But - he couldn't. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke - and that'w why he's gone."

Dumbledore nodded glumly.

"It's - it's true?" faltered Minerva. "After all he's done . . . all the people he's killed . . . he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding . . . of all the things to stop him . . . but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?"

"We can only guess," said Dumbledore. "We may never know." He had a look in his eyes, though. He knew more than he was leading on, Minerva could tell. She pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles, and Albus gave great sniffs as he took a golden watch from his pocket. She knew that Albus was very fond of the Potters, he had even offered to be their Secret Keeper. That job went to the traitor, Sirius Black. She had never been too fond of Black in his days at Hogwarts, but she tolerated him and his friends' pranks through the years. She had to agree that some of them were quite entertaining, except for when she was the butt of the jokes. But when he tricked Severus Snape into going into the Shrieking Shack on the night of the full moon, she had lost all respect she had for the boy. Even though he was in the order and James' best friend, she avoided him at all costs. Now that she knew that he betrayed his best friend, his wife, and child, she figured she had even more reason for disliking the boy.

"Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?" asked Dumbledore.

"Yes," she said. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you'r here, of all places?"

"I've come to bring Harry to his aut and uncle. They're the only family he has left now."

"You don't mean - you can't mean the people who live here?" she cried, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. "Dumbledore - you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son - I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter come and live here!"

"It's the best place for him," he said firmly. "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter."

"A letter?" she repeated faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He'll be famous - a legend - I wouldn't be surprised if today was know as Harry Potter day in the future - there will be books written about Harry - every child in our world will know his name!"

"Exactly," said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any boy's head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won't remember! Can't you see how much better off he'll be, growing up away from all that until he's ready to take it?"

Minerva opened her mouth, but then changed her mind. She knew he was right, he's always right. But especially considering James' ego, it would perhaps be better for his son to grow up away from fame. "Yes - yes, you're right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?" she said, eyeing his cloak. She thought that maybe he was hiding Harry underneath it.

"Hagrid's bringing him."

"You think it - wise - to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"

"I would trust Hagrid with my life."

"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," she said grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to - what was that?"

A low rumbling sound broke the silence around them. As it grew louder, the two looked up and saw a large motorcycle fall out of the air and land in front of them. Riding it was none other than Rubeus Hagrid. As he and Albus conversed, Minerva let her gaze drift to the pile of blankets in Hagrid's arms. A baby with a tuft of messy black hair and a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead was fast asleep.

"Is that where - ?" she whispered, gesturing to his forehead.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."

"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground." Minerva slightly shuddered, remembering that she had seen that scar first-hand. "Well - give him here, Hagrid - we'd better get this over with."

Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house. Hagrid asked to say good-bye to the boy, and in turn let out a loud howl.

"Shhh!" Minerva hissed, "you'll wake the Muggles!"

"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it - Lily an' James dead - an' poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles -"

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Minerva whispered as she patted him on the shoulder. Dumbledore made his way over to the doorstep and placed Harry down gently. He took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets, and came back over. They all took a full minute and looked at the little bundle. Minerva blinked furiously as she did; not believing any of what was happening. James and Lily Potter couldn't be dead; their son is not an orphan. She looked over at Albus and noticed that his eyes didn't have their usual twinkle.

"Well," he said finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."

"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'll be taking Sirius his bike back. G'night, Professor McGonagall - Professor Dumbledore, sir." Hagrid left, leaving the two alone again.

"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," he said with a nod. Minerva blew her nose and transformed back into her Animagus form. She watched as Albus returned light to the street and Disapparated. She could've sworn she heard him mumble, "Good luck, Harry." She wandered down the street, transformed back into a human, and Disapparated into Hogsmeade. She waltzed into the Three Broomsticks and was immediately greeted with huge cheers and laughs. She grabbed herself a drink and waltzed past a tall, thin man, with bright blue eyes who was watching her. She sat down and ignored the man for the rest of the night; and ever since that night, their relationship was strictly professional. Neither Albus nor Minerva ever hinted that anything had happened between the two.

Minerva awoke from her daydream, and finished with the Sorting. She sat down next to the Headmaster and listened as he greeted the students with his usual blabber of odd words. She ate - no, picked at - her dinner in silence, watching her young Gryffindors socialize at the table. Everything was so easy for them; they were so naive, so lucky. She slightly glanced at Albus and noticed that he too was looking at the Gryffindor table. Sitting together were none other than the Weasley boy, Harry Potter, and Hermione Granger. Well, she thought, let's hope she got her father's knack for making friends.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the chapter! It took me forever to finish, but that was mainly because I kept procrastinating :P. Anyway, all of the dialogue in Minerva's memory and a good portion of the other text belongs to the astounding J.K. Rowling. Not me. So don't sue me. So, reviews are greatly appreciated, and a new chapter will be up in a few days!