Once Minerva reached her small apartment, the smell of rotten eggs overtook her. She quickly ran outside to get some fresh air.
She looked up at the night sky. The moon was full, but the sky was cloudy. Minerva couldn't be sure, but she thought she heard the cry of a werewolf coming from the Forbidden Forest.
All sorts of different thoughts rushed through Minerva's head as she walked through the streets of Hogsmeade. Professor Dumbledore fancied her, that much she knew. Albus must be close to seventy-five years older than her. Minerva would be turning twenty in June, which would make Albus at least ninety-five years old. That age difference wasn't unheard off, it just wasn't very common.
Minerva tried to imagine herself holding Albus' hand. Kissing Albus. Making love to him. She shook her head. Minerva just couldn't picture it. A tear slowly fell down her cheek. The last thing Minerva wanted to do was hurt him. But she couldn't see how she would do anything but that.
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Minerva had been up most of the night, trying to decide what to do. Finally, a plausible idea came to her.
She flooed over to Albus' office wearing her best muggle clothes. A dark green suit, that fell just above her knees. Her legs were bare, as stockings were impossible to find because of the war. She carried a light green handbag and wore a matching hat and gloves.
"You look festive," Albus said cheerfully, helping her out of the fireplace.
Minerva couldn't keep herself from blushing. "Thank you, Albus," she said softly.
It looked like the tea was all ready for them. Minerva sat down, crossing her legs. She took a small sip of tea, being careful not to spill on her suit.
"Congratulations," Albus said, his eyes twinkling.
"For what?" Minerva asked, puzzled.
"The German Ministry of Magic has given us both the Order of Agrippa, Second Class, for defeating Grindelwald," Albus said.
"Only a Second Class?" Minerva blurted out.
Albus nodded. He suddenly turned serious. "If we hadn't let his apprentice get away, it might have been a First Class."
"Tom escaped?" Minerva asked. So much had happened the previous night that she had forgotten all about Tom being there.
"I doubt Tom will ever be Tom again, Minerva. He was calling himself Voldemort," Albus said.
Minerva thought for a moment. "I heard someone call him that my seventh year," she told him.
Albus closed his eyes for a moment. "I wish I could pinpoint the moment he turned towards the dark side for comfort. I failed him," Albus admitted.
Minerva's eyes flashed. "Don't you dare think that about yourself, Albus," Minerva said in a steely voice. "I had a glimpse for what Tom had to live through. It could turn anyone. It is not your fault."
Albus smiled. "Deep down, I know you're right, Minerva. Somehow though, it feels right to take the blame."
"It's not your fault," Minerva said softly.
A comfortable silence fell over the room. Minerva took a thoughtful sip of tea.
"So why are you wearing your muggle finest?" Albus asked cheerfully.
Minerva gulped. It was now or never. "I'm going on a trip," she said carefully.
Albus raised an eyebrow. "A trip?" he asked flatly.
She nodded. "I'm going to my parent's hometown. I want to see where they're buried," she said softly. "Stewart and I always said we would take a trip to see their graves, but we never did."
"Is Stewart buried there as well?" Albus asked gently.
"Yes," Minerva said. "There was no body recovered, but there's a small memorial next to my parents." She could feel her eyes watering just by thinking about them.
"It will do you good to see him at rest," Albus said.
Minerva took a sip of tea. "He died exactly two years ago today. Two years," she said dully.
His eyes searched hers. "Then what will you do?" he asked.
Minerva let out a breath. "I'm thinking of going to University. A muggle University," she admitted.
"Really?" Albus asked, and to her surprise, he looked happy for her. "It's always good to learn more."
They shared a smile at the wonders of learning. The clock on the mantle struck. Minerva looked up to check the time. "I'm so sorry, Albus, but I have to go," Minerva said quickly. "I have a train to catch."
Albus stood up. "My dear, I do hope we can continue writing to each other, even if you're at University."
"I'd like that," Minerva said.
"I could even write to you using the muggle post, if you'd like," Albus said.
"We'll see," Minerva said, smiling. She walked towards the fireplace. Awkwardly, the two embraced, and Minerva kissed him gently on the cheek.
"I've been teaching here for almost fifty years, Minerva. I do believe you have officially become one of my favorite students," he told her.
"Thank you, Albus," she said. "That means a lot. It really does."
"I'll be seeing you, I'm sure," Albus said, sounding somewhat sad.
"I'm sure," Minerva repeated.
"Good luck," Albus told her. Minerva nodded, and grabbed a handful of floo powder. A moment later she was gone.
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May 1945Minerva ended up staying in London for almost two weeks. She decided to enroll for University first, before going to see her parents. After much deliberation, she decided to enroll at King's College London. The location was good, near the tube. Minerva decided that if she was going to a muggle school, then she would live like a muggle as well.
There was a great deal of forms to fill out. Right away Minerva knew she couldn't afford the room and board. She would have to find a place where she could earn her keep.
Finally she was ready to see her parent's and brother's resting site.
Minerva walked into the King's Cross Station. She smiled, remembering her first time here with Stewart.
As she had watched the scenery out of the window, everything had felt familiar, somehow. Then it hit her. This was practically the route the Hogwarts express took.
It stayed that way for most of the journey. When she got of the train, she realized that she was maybe thirty minutes by foot from Hogwarts.
"It's okay," Minerva whispered to herself. She looked to see if she could find a boarding house of some kind. She would rest tonight, and find the graves tomorrow.
Walking down a few blocks she saw McGonagall's Commercial Hotel. That would do just fine, she decided.
She walked in and looked around. The lobby was shabby. The walls needed a coat of paint, and the rug was frayed at the end. A bar, crowded with people was at one end, and the registration desk was at the other.
Minerva rang the bell, and waited for someone to come to the desk. An older gentleman slowly walked to the front.
"Yes?" he asked.
"I'd like a room for the night," Minerva told him. She fished through her purse for some muggle money.
He quoted the price, and Minerva paid him quickly. He handed her a large brass key and showed her the hallway to go to.
Minerva thanked him and turned to go to her room. She passed the bar, and a few men let out a low whistle.
"Leave the lady alone," the barkeeper yelled at them. It hadn't mattered, since Minerva hardly noticed them. All she wanted was to lay down and rest.
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Minerva woke up early the next morning, barely able to contain her excitement. She just had a feeling that she would feel more at ease once she saw the actual graves.
It was rather cool for a day in early May, so Minerva wore an emerald green cardigan with her tartan skirt. The breeze felt cool upon her face, and once she reached a field, she could feel the morning dew tickling the top of her feet.
The churchyard wasn't far. Then again, this was a small town, nothing was far. Finally she reached the graveyard. This too looked shabby, which angered Minerva. But then she remembered that the town had much more to worry about than a graveyard, with the war and all.
She searched and searched for her parent's name. Timothy and Diana Duncan. Then out of the blue, she found them.
The graves were small, but that's what she expected. Her brother had a military headstone, to show that he was killed in service.
What she hadn't expected was the flood of emotions going through her. Minerva's parents had been killed when she was so young, that they didn't even have a chance to be parents to her.
Minerva remembered her brother's last letter to her, saying how he feared he would never meet the girl of his dreams, marry and have babies. Minerva sat down quickly. Tears came pouring down her face, but no sound crossed her lips.
She must have cried for almost a half an hour. When she thought she could weep no more, she kissed the tips of her fingers and pressed them against her brother's grave.
Suddenly there was a voice behind her. "We have victory over in Europe. You shouldn't be crying," a voice with a strong Scottish accent told her.
Minerva sniffed, but didn't look behind her. "I want to cry," she told him. "I need to cry."
"I best change me tactics, then. A girl as beautiful as you shouldn't be crying," the voice said.
That caused Minerva to laugh and turn around. "You haven't even seen my face," she said smiling.
"Ah, I knew that would work," the man said happily. "And look, I was right."
Minerva took a good look at the man who had made her laugh for the first time in weeks. He had shocking red hair, and bright blue eyes. He looked to be a few years older than Minerva, but that was possibly because of the war. He was wearing an army uniform, with one sleeve pinned up.
He caught her staring at where a second arm should be. He patted his stump. "The rest is somewhere over in France," he said good-naturedly.
All of a sudden she recognized him. "You're the bartender at McGonagall's, aren't you?" she asked, wiping her eyes.
He nodded. "Indeed I am, and you are the beautiful, yet mysterious girl who checked in last night," he said cheerfully.
"Aye," Minerva laughed.
"Have you heard the news?" he asked her.
Minerva shook her head. "Good or bad?" she asked timidly.
"Good," he said, kneeling down next to her. "No, not good. Better than good. The best news."
She smiled at his enthusiasm. "Well?" she asked, wanting to know what happened.
"It's over. Happened yesterday. Victory is ours," he said seriously. "The Axis force finally surrendered."
Minerva closed her eyes, letting the information sink into her. The war was over! She was thrilled knowing that she might have had something to do with it. At first she thought being a tabby cat as her Animagus form was awful. But now she knew that it was the best thing she could have been.
There was a silence, and they just seemed to look at each other. "I'm Minerva Duncan," she blurted out suddenly.
"Well, hello, Minerva Duncan. I'm Montgomery McGonagall."
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A/N – Montgomery McGonagall is named after one of my favorite fictional Scotsmen, Montgomery Scott from Star Trek, the Original Series.
As those of you who have read Radishes and Turnips know...tomorrow's my b-day! I love birthdays. A wonderful, yet inexpensive gift would be a review! Thank you for reading as always! You guys make my day!