Chapter IV

August 27, 1944.

Diagon Alley, London.

Minerva McGonagall sat at a rickety table across from Flourish and Blotts. A hat was pulled low over her forehead, its brim shading her eyes, while the Daily Prophet blocked the rest of her face. She'd read through the paper seven times now, and was quite tired of it; especially with the knowledge of the new copy of Transfiguration Today which was in her bag and a well-stocked, despite the difficulties of transportation due to war, bookstore was across the street. However, a witch reading a brightly coloured academic journal or a overly large leather tome would draw far more attention than one simply reading the paper, and Minerva was aiming to be inconspicuous. It was said that the best way to hide was in plain sight, but there was no need to push the expression. Instead, Minerva found herself mentally correcting the most minuscule of grammatical errors in the publication at hand.

In happier times, it would be far easier to blend in with the crowds on Diagon Alley. She'd be able to walk, stretch her legs, read anything, even enjoy a small lunch or cup of tea. Now, the street was empty. Occasionally a Hogwarts student would hurry by, pushed on by parents before ducking into the nearest shop, or otherwise a harried looking warlock would pass, followed for several seconds by the sound of his heels clicking on the cobblestones reverberating across the empty street.

In many parts of the country, wizards carried on as if the muggle's war was as unimportant as a broken arm, something that could be healed in seconds and leave no lasting mark. In London, though, the consequences were unavoidable. It was easy to ignore fighting going on many miles away, across seas and even oceans. The fact still remained that there was little even wizards could do about having bombs dropped repeatedly over buildings that were hundreds of years old. There were spells, of course, and often Diagon Alley received little to no damage on the outside. Still, stores shook, and contents would lay scattered and broken. The apothecary had relocated to Hogsmeade in 1941, and every restaurant and food stand on the now slightly dented and cracked street had shut down from a combination of damage and the effects of rationing- The Leaky Cauldron being the sole exception. Even Gringotts' seemed to be leaning. Wizards and witches found it at first ridiculous that muggle inventions could cause so much destruction when faced with magic, but in essence magic was little other than concentrated energy- as were bombs. The two did not mix. There had been no air raids in a blessedly long time, but the trepidation still existed, and the wizarding community of London remained quiet.

Minerva turned another page of the paper as she noticed a worker staring out at her through the window. She didn't particularly care if Dumbledore was alerted to her presence; he'd known she'd be here or else he wouldn't have left the note. Anyway, knowing Albus, he was nowhere near Flourish and Blotts, but would let her know when he returned. Her goals were to avoid any commotion that could get back to Caterdily, and to make it seem as if Albus was blissfully ignorant of her assignment.

The bell abouve the bookstores' door chimed softly, and Minerva lifted her eyes to observe a very tall man with auburn hair exit whilst shaking hands with the owner and wishing him a good day. He had a brown bag in one hand, though from the way he was holding it, it was evident that he'd bought very light books, or something else entirely was hidden inside it. Albus was not one to use featherweight charms unless he had to. Respectable wizards could tell the difference between avoiding unnecessary discomfort and laziness.

Dumbledore turned around, and nodded very slightly to Minerva. She adjusted the way she was holding the paper so that four fingers rested on the outside. Albus turned sharply and began to walk quickly down the street, his heels clacking and echoing long after he was out of sight. Four minutes later, Minerva stood and followed, leaving the paper on the table and vanishing the hat back into the matter from which it had been formed.

She arrived in the Leaky Cauldron not more than five minutes later. A few inhabitants were scattered through the dark booths. Her eyes were drawn to the fireplace, which was full of green flames. She moved marginally closer to it, and found herself next to a hunched man in tattered clothes. His hands and face were as wrinkled as his apparel.

"Taking the floo too, are you? Well, ladies first, m'dear," the man wheezed, his grin showing a mouth full of half rotten teeth. Minerva was hesitant until she looked into his eyes- bright, clear blue eyes. Befuddlement cleared, she stepped into the tall hearth and felt herself spinning before she was able to utter a single word. She came to a stop viewing Dumbledore's office and quickly ducked beneath the mantle and into the small room. Dumbledore appeared seconds later, and proceeded to knock his head into the mantle whilst climbing out.

"Every time," he winced, massaging the spot as he sank into an overly stuffed chintz armchair. Minerva quickly stepped closer to him, brushing away his hand and replacing it with her own. "I'm fine," Albus assured her. "It won't even bruise." She could tell he was right, but still waited a moment before pulling away. "I expect you're curious as to what just happened," he continued, summoning a chair from his desk over to the fireplace.

Minerva sat down slightly reluctantly. She felt as if she'd been sitting all day. "I think I know," she answered. "As Hogwarts is protected, it's impossible to just floo into, but I couldn't be seen with you, or Caterdily would know that you are aware of my intentions. I would assume that you were able to floo here, transfigure yourself, then return and somehow clear the network for me to get through."

"To assume is to make an ass of you and me," Albus muttered absentmindedly. Minerva stared at him blankly. "Excuse me. Rather clever muggle expression. Nevertheless, you are correct. How did I transfigure myself back so quickly?"

"The protective spells did the work for you," mused Minerva slowly. "You were able to get out disguised, because departures are not monitored. Only arrivals. Nothing but polyjuice potion can keep someone disguised while entering, in any way."

Albus beamed at her. "I see you've done your research. Have the others?"

"Moody certainly has. I'm willing to bet he could tell you the middle names of any given professor's grandparents, as well as their own childhood dreams and detailed daily routines. He's almost unnecessarily thorough, and completely paranoid. Scrimgeor has most likely read the basics. I doubt that DeMattos has opened a report in her life." McGonagall frowned. Albus chuckled.

"To each their own." He was silent for a moment, staring at nothing. "I take it you can still transform?" Minerva fingered her wand without a second thought, feeling herself shrink and the near invisible hairs covering her body become thicker and longer. She padded over to Albus and, when he didn't look down, miaowed. He gave her a strange, almost pained smile. Minerva had an intuitive feeling that she could tell what was troubling him; her own mind was being overwhelmed with memories of days and nights spend in this office studying, working, practicing, and perfecting her efforts to become an animagus, more often than not in an unnecessarily intimate fashion. The waves of nostalgia were so strong that they practically hurt. She thanked Merlin that she was in this form, unable to speak and barely able to show outward expression. However, a question hovered towards the back of her mind, one that begged for an answer.

"Have things really changed so much, or was I simply that blind? It seemed like those were such better times." Minerva brushed a few stray hairs off of her robes. Even out of context, Albus understood her. He smiled.

"If you count a dark presence roaming the school and attacking Muggle-borns as better times..." he ventured wryly, tracing the embroidery on his chair's arm. Minerva couldn't help smirking slightly, even though she knew better. Whatever the Chamber of Secrets was and where it lay was still a mystery, and the days of its opening still haunted the back corners of her nightmares. "In all seriousness, however, yes. They were. Wars come and go, but as far as I can postulate, none has affected the moral of wizard kind so much as this one. There is a certain darkness that I worry shall lurk in our lives for many years to come."

Something about his words chilled Minerva down to the bone. "It will end. One day." She stood, suddenly uncomfortable. "Well, now that I've fulfilled my daily duties of stalking you, I daresay Scrimgeour could use hand keeping his sanity. I'll see you at dinner, Albus."

"I look forward to it, Minerva. Could you please pass this on to Armando? He tends to take a walk around this time, I think it's highly likely that you'll cross paths." The witch nodded and accepted a small pile of letters from the bag Albus had carried out of Flourish and Blotts. He, however, did not let go. She looked up to meet his eyes. "Only if you want to, Minerva."

His meaning was as clear as crystal. Mail was monitored- whatever Albus was holding was top secret, unknown to the ministry. These papers were not something to review and paraphrase to Caterdily; they were to be passed unopened. This was a test of loyalty. The thought made her mouth thin slightly- she would have hoped Dumbledore knew clearly where her loyalties lay. Still, it was understandable; this small action could get her fired without a second thought, and without a job, where would she be?

"I know," she replied, maintaining eye contact and wiping any other thoughts from her mind. He relinquished his grip, and she brusquely turned and walked out of the room, knowing she was headed far deeper into this mess of a war than she had ever planned.

Professor LaBorde rounded yet another corner, and let out a small huff of air in frustration as she was met with an unfamiliar hallway. She had been lost for a good twenty minutes, and was getting tired of wandering around hopelessly with a stack of parchment in her arms, listening to the clack of her heels echoing off the cool stone of abandoned hallways. However, her pride would not allow her to sink down against one of the walls and just sit there until someone traipsed by, as she rather wanted to.

I'd probably starve, she thought, beginning to walk again. This place is gigantic.

A few turns later, LaBorde noticed the sound of a second pair of footsteps clicking brusquely, and silently thanked Merlin. Her relief faded, however, as the footsteps slowed and became quieter. She held the stack of parchment to her chest with one hand, lowering the other to slip her wand out of her sleeve. The footsteps were now barely audible, but did not have the fading quality of someone moving further away. A swish and flick levitated the parchment behind her, leaving her arms free. She did not bother consciously lightening her footsteps, as the hair on the back of her neck prickled- whoever was lurking nearby knew she was there, and perhaps acting unaware would catch them by surprise- but still, her movements became more fluid and controlled.

She whipped around a corner, wand raised, and found herself face to face with Minerva McGonagall. She quickly dropped her wand arm and held the other up, fingers spread. Aurors were paranoid, and would see anyone pointing a wand at them as a threat. Thankfully, Minerva was more cautious than her coworkers, or LaBorde had a nasty feeling she could easily have had her face blasted off.

"Sorry," Minerva apologized curtly. "This isn't a well-traveled part of the castle."

"I noticed," LaBorde replied with a wry grin. She tuned slightly and let the papers, which had drifted dangerously close to the ground, rise and flop back into her arms. "I was looking for Quinn. We exchanged lesson plans earlier, checking for repetition and such, and I need to return these to him."

Minerva couldn't help smiling slightly. "Well, you're three floors off..."

River groaned. "Thank Merlin I ran into you, I would have been up here for ages." They began to walk, Minerva leading. "You know... I've been contemplating teaching a unit on dueling to the fifth through seventh years. I think they would be awed to receive a few pointers from an auror. Would you be comfortable talking to them, if you had the time?"

Minerva looked a little surprised by the offer, but mostly pleased. "That would be nice," she replied. River smiled broadly. "I have to wonder why you didn't ask DeMattos, though."

"Teenagers are rebellious enough as it is, thanks. I'd rather maim a unicorn than let that woman put so much as a toe in my classroom, let alone have free reign." After several minutes of walking and idle chat about the upcoming year, they arrived at the passage housing Quinn's office and living quarters. River took extra care to memorize her surroundings.

The heavy rainfall had stopped for the moment, but the air still felt thick with moisture, and a bitter wind whipped around, the tall grass on the grounds and bending the trees of the Forbidden Forrest. The lake waters were choppy, and Armando found that even several feet away, stronger gusts would bring a spray of water up to meet him. Still, he kept his position, idly watching Ogg, Tara and Damien attempting to extract a wayward kelpie from the lake, one of the long-term school governors by his side.

"And where is that blundering oaf you insisted on hiring?" the governor sniffed, hand resting on his cane. "I would think he could crush the bloody thing with one boot."

"Hagrid," Armando replied, emphasizing the boy's name, "is taking care of Ogg's usual duties while he is otherwise occupied. This storm has done a great deal of damage, as I'm sure you can imagine."

"Well I don't like him being unsupervised. He should be watched at all times- he is on our payroll, after all." A shriek came from the lake as the kelpie dove down, splashing the three with frigid water.

"Actually, Abraxas, I believe he is on my payroll. His humble wages come out of Albus' and my salaries. Ogg has also been known to slip him some pocked money," Armando replied cooly, for once wishing the meeting would reconvene early.

"Even worse. A man content to live off of donations from hard-working superiors."

Armando was relieved that Minerva appeared a short second later. His tongue was beginning to bruise from biting it so hard.

"Headmaster," she nodded, ignoring the blond figure beside him. "Your cousin owled you a letter. Albus was going to bring it to you but I was on the way to my rounds and thought I'd save him the walk."

"Thank you, Ms. McGonagall." He tucked the letter into his cloak without glancing at it.

Abraxas, meanwhile, was looking at her in disgust. "A woman? They sent a woman to protect Hogwarts?"

"And it appears they sent a slimy pseudo-politician with no qualifications other than a pocket full of galleons to defend the educational rights of the next generation. I suppose we are hopeless on both fronts, Lord Malfoy," she replied scathingly. Armando suppressed a smile as she mouthed off to the man nearly three times her age. For all Albus' tutelage, he had never managed to stamp the Scottish tongue out of her in favor of his own, more hidden insults.

"I assure you that I, unlike you, possess the skills necessary to complete my job." He looked her up and down pointedly.

"Oh, yes, if only I were pretty enough to seduce the enemy and learn their secrets-" The deep toning of a bell down in Hogsmede interrupted their verbal sparring. Thankfully, Dippet thought. He had been starting to blush.

"And so ends our break. We'd best be getting back, Abraxas. Thank you, Ms. McGonagall." Abraxas spun on his heel and clipped back towards the castle, Armando still at his side.

Wonderful, thought Minerva, watching them walk away. I'll lose my job because of a school governor that has the whole Ministry in his pocket. If Dippet doesn't fire me for insubordination first.

Dippet, however, raised a hand behind his back, circling his index finger and thumb while raising his other three digits- the same Italian symbol DeMattos used to signify perfection.

A/N: Sorry guys! College is hard.