I'm sorry about the delay on the last chapter, I ran into a bit of writer's block. I hope you enjoy this chapter, it is a bit of a filler before we get back in MMAD goodness but let me know what you think.
Apologies again. Enjoy.
February 1952
It had taken Augusta rather a long time to speak to Minerva again.
On the evening that Augusta and Walter were due to return to Hogwarts from the Christmas break Minerva had opted to skip supper all together. Considering that she had received no reply to her considerably lengthy letter of explanation she thought it the best way to avoid a scene breaking out in the Great Hall.
It had been a somewhat valid plan. Minerva was not made to suffer a very public dressing down in front of the entire school.
Instead, upon realising that Minerva was not at dinner, Augusta had stormed her way up the marble staircase to the Gryffindor common room in a towering temper and had given Minerva barely enough time to look up from her book before launching into an exceedingly loud, and obviously well-rehearsed, rant.
In the interest of friendship Minerva had sat in a state of polite impassivity and waited, somewhat impatiently, for Augusta to tire herself out. She had, after all, done the same for Ivy.
But Augusta's stamina was impressive.
Minerva's patience was not.
"- WITH NOT SO MUCH AS A WORD! WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO THINK? 3 IN THE MORNING AND YOUR BED IS EMPTY AGAIN – DON'T YOU WALK AWAY FROM ME MINERVA MCGONAGALL!" Augusta bellowed across the room.
"I'm not about to stand here while you disturb the entire castle with such childish pettiness." she shouted back, "I've apologised! What more do you want from me? My wand at your service? A kiss at your feet? I. AM. SORRY!"
"You're sorry?" Augusta spluttered. Her cheeks had angry red splotches blooming and she seemed somewhat flat. Deflated. But she seemed to swell again as she sucked air into her lungs.
"YOU'RE SORRY?!" she exploded.
Minerva had hardly time to duck as a heavy ink well hurtled past her ear and shattered against the portrait over the fireplace.
"HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?" she cried over the shrieks of the ruffled old witch in the painting.
"ME?" Augusta screeched, taking aim with a copy of Spellman's Syllabary. "Do you know what kind of rumours were flying through the train faster than a thestral in flight? DO YOU?"
Minerva drew her wand as Augusta pulled back her arm.
"PROTEGO!"
Augusta stumbled and fell into a table as the force of Minerva's shield charm knocked her back. Colour rising further up her face. But Minerva had gone ghost white.
"Who's left to protect your precious reputation? Clean up your mess? ME!"
She wasn't listening. Augusta's shouts were just white noise reverberating around a single word echoing in the din.
Rumours?
A cold weight had frozen in her chest but her face felt hot. Her collar was tight at her throat. Itchy. The room was stifling.
She barely registered that Augusta was still yelling as she slipped past her to the portrait hole. Sterling and Walter had just rounded the corner to the corridor as she climbed out from behind the Fat Lady.
"Minerva?" they asked in unison.
"Minerva I tried to stop her." Walter apologised weakly.
But Minerva did not so much as slow down. Nor did she release Augusta from behind the shield charm until had safely hidden herself in the prefects bathroom on the fifth floor.
It took more than a month for the storm to break.
On the night of the 6th Sterling was distracted from his food on account of attempting to worm information about the upcoming Ravenclaw/ Slytherin match out of Ivy.
"Come on Ivy." He pleaded, "you flattened Hufflepuff. If you beat Slytherin, Ravenclaw will be on top of the table."
"I'm not about to help Gryffindor steal the cup out from under us." Ivy maintained between mouthfuls. But Minerva had never seen a person focused so intently on their dinner or disinterested in conversation as Augusta was now. Though this was not new behaviour.
For weeks now she had paid Minerva about as much attention as her own shadow. At first the inattention had done little to faze her but Augusta's continued refusal to acknowledge her presence whilst in the same room together had begun to rub into a sore spot. Vera, who seemed to smell a weakness at several paces, had taken extraordinary delight in mercilessly poking at it.
Vera, Minerva had learned later from Walter, had been the one who had spread sensational stories up and down the Hogwarts Express before she had even regained consciousness. Minerva could not credit her with being particularly gifted in many things but her ability to churn the rumour mill was one of her better talents.
She had endured the catcalls in the corridors, the wolf whistles from across the Great Hall, even the odd jeer through the staircase. Malcolm had lost over 50 points from Gryffindor for duelling in the corridors. 20 of which Minerva had taken from him herself after he had punched a fifth year boy in the mouth for calling his sister a slapper. The same boy had reportedly been unable to re-enter Ravenclaw Tower under account of his tongue being glued to the roof of his mouth. Minerva had been unable to determine whether this was Robert or Ivy's handiwork as they were decidedly more subtle in their actions than Malcolm. She had struggled to have more than a moment's conversation with Professor Dumbledore outside of class and their brief exchanges were limited to yet another excuse for postponing her private lessons.
But worse than this; late at night, when the talk and the whispers were nothing but a swirling, poisonous mass beneath Gryffindor Tower, Vera's voice would cut across the dark dormitory with sweet venom and strike through the hangings of her four poster bed.
And Augusta would remain silent.
However, when Walter's owl soared through the high window of the hall and stepped through Augusta's potatoes to deliver the evening edition of the Daily Prophet she was anything but.
"Augusta be quiet." Walter shushed her sharply.
As if by instinct she looked to Minerva with an appalled and offended expression before she could remember not to. Before she could rectify her mistake Ivy's tawny owl swooped past her face. Closely followed by Sterling's drowsy barn owl.
Flicking mashed potato off of her fingers, Augusta turned her face to the ceiling.
"Oh my." She said in a small voice that was soon lost in the mad rush of wings that had filled the room.
All through the hall, at every table, students were being inundated by owl post. Minerva turned immediately to look up at the staff table. Professor Slughorn had his pudgy little hand pressed to his mouth and was fishing for his handkerchief in his breast pocket. Professor Beery had frozen with his fork halfway to his mouth, the Headmaster was striding out of the hall and Professor Numera had taken off her hat.
"Augusta what's going on?" Minerva murmured over the table to Augusta who was busy reading over Walter's shoulder.
"The King…" she whispered, "Minerva I think the King is dead."
And looking around the room, she thought she might be right.
Professor Vene was weeping silently into her goblet. Tears were falling steadily from Ivy's long lashes as she read the letter from her parents and all through the hall came the steady cries and exclamations from muggleborns and their letters from home. Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen.
"I think, I'm finished." Sterling muttered to no one in particular, folding up this letter with shaking hands. He stood stiffly, as though he'd forgotten how, and left the hall.
"Yeah, me too." Walter agreed quietly and followed after him.
Augusta looked meaningfully from Minerva to Ivy, who still hadn't shifted from her position as a weeping statue, but was saved from having to intervene by a jarring knock to the shoulder.
"Ouch, Malcolm." She protested.
"You got a paper?" he asked hurriedly and reached across her for Walter's abandoned Prophet without waiting for a reply. "Here, Alastor." He called back down the table to a smaller dark haired boy who snatched it out of his hands.
"Minerva do you know what's going on?" came another, more temperate, voice, "someone said something about the King… Goodness, Ivy are you alright?"
"She'll be alright, Robert." She assured, softly, "Can you take her back to the common room?"
Robert nodded solemnly, "Yes of course. Malcolm!" he snapped as his brother's blonde head popped in between and over shoulders to get a better look at the paper, "get away, you're like a crow on a carcass."
Malcolm shot Robert a filthy look but sat down all the same, his eyes following intently. Waiting until his back was turned.
Augusta and Minerva helped Robert get Ivy to her feet before they left their plates too.
"Go to bed." She said sharply and clipped Malcolm over the back of the head; whose nose had risen to peek under a seventh year girl's elbow. Grumbling and rubbing his head, Malcolm shuffled from the hall with his friend in tow. Minerva and Augusta followed close behind.
She did not think she could have recalled a stranger sight. Groups of students had huddles in masses all over the hall, at tables, against walls, on the floor. Families had converged, just as her own had, for solace or information. House tables and colours seemed to have been forgotten. Others had fled the hall all together and Augusta and Minerva met them in their tight groups on the stairs. Heard the echo of their stifled cry from the alcoves in the corridors. The portraits were ashen. Did news really travel that fast?
When they reached the common room they found it empty and the fire cold in its hearth. Without a word they continued up to their dormitory. Minerva lit the lamps with her wand and they dressed for bed in silence. It wasn't until she was turning down her covers that Augusta found her voice again.
"Do you think I can fall asleep before Vera gets here?" she asked with a yawn, "If I have to listen to her jibe all night again I think I might hex her. Talk about sour grapes."
"Sour grapes?" Minerva queried, pulling up the covers and extinguishing her lamp.
"Mmm… the only reason she bothered to stir up a fuss at all was because Lucan made a fool of her in front of half the school. He came over to us while we were waiting for the carriages," she said through an enormous yawn, "looking for you I suspect. Anyway. Vera and Ainslie were lurking about with a couple of Hufflepuff girls from Herbology and… well, you know as much as I don't fancy him Volantis isn't hard to look at. Ainslie was giggling like an idiot and Vera turns around and asks if he'd go to Hogsmeade with her when we got back from holidays… He told her he'd sooner spend Christmas at Hogwarts. Turned around without so much as a start and dragged his things back inside. She didn't know you were in the hospital wing… she was just looking for any excuse to drag you both in a bit of mud… But I didn't know why he'd want to stay here over Christmas when he'd arranged to go home… I thought… well it doesn't matter now." She trailed off in a matter-of-fact tone.
But the wheels suddenly clunked into place.
"Do you mean to tell me," Minerva cut in, "that you've neglected to speak to me for over a month because Vera Cunningham started a rumour that you felt honour bound to deny but then got crabby about because you thought it might be true?"
There was an affected little sniff off in the darkness.
"Well when you put it like that…"
"Pride made Lucan stay at Hogwarts. Not me."
"Yes. I can see that now." She snapped.
"You could have just asked me." Minerva rolled her eyes, exasperated.
"Or you could have just told me what you were doing." Augusta huffed, and rolled over.
Minerva could not help but smile.
"Good night, Augusta."
"Hmph."
