Chapter 20

Weeks had passed since his argument with Umbridge and his tongue lashing from Minerva, and since then, he had managed to get himself thrown into detention with the pink hag at least twice a week, enough to keep the wound on his hand from healing properly. He had thought of going to Minerva for help the first time it happened, but figured that since she hadn't spoken to him, he wouldn't. He also refused to go to Dumbledore about it much to Hermiones chagrin, citing that he had enough on his plate. But even though he was constantly forced to carve open his hand, he found that it wasn't as bad as having Minerva so upset with him that she refused to acknowledge him, even in class.

He was sitting there, in front of the fire, pretending to read his transfiguration book when in fact he was watching her as she consoled one of the younger students in the corner of the room. He didn't know why he was crying, but it seemed that no matter what Minerva said or did, he only cried even more. He was so surprised when she pulled him into a tight hug and rocked him that he forgot that he was pretending to read and turned to look at her. When she looked up and caught him looking at her, she gave a watery smile, her green eyes shimmering with tears.

Giving one back, he mouthed one word. "Sorry."

The next day, during lunch in the Great Hall Harry over heard some of the younger students whispering about McGonagall and how she was so mad some of the windows exploded. Frowning, he looked to Hermione, lowering his voice to keep from being over heard from anyone else at the table.

"Did you know Professor McGonagall's back?"

The bushy haired girl nodded. "Yes, I saw her just before coming he-"

Before she could say any more, the sound of two people arguing rang out through the hall. Turning around, the group looked to the open door as the sound of Umbridges shrill voice rang louder than ever before.

"Pardon me Professor! Are you questioning my authority in my own classroom?"

"I am merely requesting that when it comes to my students, you conform to the proscribed disciplinary practises!"

Hearing Minerva's raised voice, Harry bolted out of the hall, followed by most of the others. Standing there, at the base of the stairs, were the two women, facing off. Harry couldn't help but smirk at the sight of Mienrva's pursed lips, having extensive knowledge that when they became that thin, things were about to turn ugly. And from the snickers coming from behind him, he knew some of the other students realized too.

"You are taking children," Minerva said, her accent making a strong appearance as her emotions boiled over, "And making them carve into their own hands each night in punishment!" Stepping up two of the steps, Minerva looked down at the short woman, her green eyes narrowed. "You are torturing my students with the use of those quills Delores, and I will not stand for it." She growled.

For a moment, everything was silent, but then the toad like woman giggled. "And what will you do, Minerva?" She asked in her syrupy voice, "You are barely here from issues with your health, even though you look perfectly fine. In fact," She began, stepping up to the same step as the enraged witch, "This would only be the second time you have come by since the beginning of the school year." She pointed out, her smile widening. "Is your loyalty to your students so wavering that you can't even teach them?"

Stepping up even higher, the brunette turned around and addressed everyone that had gathered to watch. "I am a tolerant woman, but I will have order." She looked at Minerva, her smile shark like. "And I will have it." With that, she turned and marched up the stairs, leaving the students and Minerva stunned and angry.

Chest heaving in effort to conceal her rage, Minerva turned around looked at her students. For the first time in her entire teaching career, she felt like she had failed them. For a few minutes, she surveyed the crowd as each one looked at her, until finally, Harry stepped forward.

"Thank you, Professor. For trying."

Fighting the smile wanting to form, Minerva dipped her head before taking a deep breath. "Away with you." She said, waving her hands dismissively.

Gathering the skirts of her robes, she descended the stairs, hoping to be able to reverse the charms on her before the end of lunch. It wasn't until she almost walked into him that she realized Harry had stayed behind.

"My apologises Potter."

"That's alright Professor," He said, "But ah, can I talk to you for a moment?"

Raising her eyebrow, Minerva inclined her head. "Walk and talk Potter."

Nodding, Harry followed her as she led him out into the courtyard in silence. For the first time in weeks, Harry didn't feel any of the usual anger coming from Minerva. Smiling, he tucked his hands into the pockets of his robes, resisting the urge he felt to whistle.

Seeing the bright smile, Minerva pursed her lips, though this time to prevent herself from smiling. "Wipe that smirk off your face Potter."

"Yes Professor."

From then on, they walked in silence, heading towards the black lake. Instantly Harry knew where they were going, almost as soon as he realized, butterflies started flying around in his stomach. He was glad they were going somewhere private where he could talk to Minerva freely instead of having to try and watch his words in case anyone was hiding around wanting to listen in, but on the other hand, the last time they were at the tree, he had pretty much been dumped by the woman walking next to him. Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Harry tried to figure out how he was going to go about apologizing to her.

"Sit Harry, we need to talk."

Later that day, after the classes where Harry was once again sitting next to Minerva, Hermione dragged him and Ron to a secluded part of the castle, stating that she had something important to talk to them about, away from prying eyes. So, after telling Minerva he'd see her later he had followed Hermione down the many hallways of the ancient castle. Walking down one of the less used hallways, Hermione looked around until she spotted a small alcove, where she nudged the boys to. Making sure no one was behind them, Hermione turned on them, hands on hips.

"Umbridge isn't teaching us anything."

"We know." The boys sighed.

"We need someone who will."

"Yeah, but who's going to risk detention with the toad," Ron argued, "Just to teach us a couple of spells."

"Well I thought," Hermione started, crossing her arms, "I thought that you would, Harry."

Harry's green eyes widened in surprise. "Me?"

"Yes."

"You want me," He repeated, pointing to himself, "To teach?"

"Yes."

"As in, teach?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes. You can teach us everything we're missing."

"Me?" He asked again.

Hermione groaned.

Sitting in what he was beginning to think of as 'their' spot, Harry starred into the crackling fire, a mug of hot chocolate in his hands. As agreed in their talk from lunch, Harry was waiting for Minerva in the common room. They hadn't really had the chance to talk things out during lunch, so they had agreed to meet up later to discuss everything that had happened. And he was all for it, but first he had to apologize to her. Sighing, he looked down into his mug, hoping it would have the answers he sought. If he did what Hermione wanted and they were caught, the consequences would be worse than anything they had suffered through before.

A soft laugh pulled him from his thoughts. "It looks like you're trying to find the answers to life in you cup there." Pushing herself from the door frame, Minerva moved to the couch and sat down beside him. "What's going on in that head of yours Harry?"

"Oh, you know," He started, looking up at the roof. "Just the meaning of life."

"Ummf." Harry moaned as a small pillow was used to hit him over the head. "Agh, what's with you and cushions?"

"I don't know, but they're good weapons." Chuckling, Minerva dropped the pillow in question in to her lap and settled back against the corner of the sofa. "What really had you looking so serious before Harry?"

Sighing, Harry looked back down into the cup he still held. "I…I was trying to figure out how to apologize to you."

"Harry-"

"No Minerva," He cut in, shaking his head, "You were right, I was an idiot. I let her bait me and because of that, I lost my temper. I'm sorry. For everything."

Taking hold of his hand, Minerva gave it a soft squeeze. "And I am sorry for not talking to you sooner, and for not realizing what she was doing to you."

Harry shook his head. "Some of the others have it worse."

"I know." She whispered, "That's why I've been making some potions for them. They won't remove the scars, but they'll prevent infection and help with the pain."

Smiling slightly, Harry nodded. "I know some of the younger students will love you for that."

"Stephen will."

"Is he the one you were helping yesterday?"

Minerva nodded. "He's been having detentions," She spat, "With her almost daily. His hand is a mess."

"What year is his in?"

"Second."

After that, they sat in silence until the fire was nothing but glowing embers.

"Hermione suggested I teach the students Defence."

"Really?"

Harry nodded.

"You should do it. They're not learning anything from her." She turned to face him, a serious look to her. "You have a better understanding about the Dark Arts then she does, more so considering how old you are, what you teach them could save their lives in this on coming storm."

"So do you, you could teach them as well."

Minerva shook her head. "Most students don't like Transfiguration."

"You wouldn't just teach Transfiguration." He argued, clutching her hand, "Minerva, you have years of knowledge and experience up your sleeves, more so then I do. Think about it, who better to teach us, than a teacher."

Sighing, Minerva looked down at their hands. "I have missed teaching."

"So you'll do it?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

"But so are you." She added.

Harry looked at her. "What?"

Looking at him, Minerva gave him a small smile. "The students know you Harry; they would be more willing to learn from someone they know than someone they don't."

"But they do know you."

"They know Professor McGonagall Harry, not Mindy McDonald."

Understanding made its way across his face. "So…we both teach them."

"We both teach them."

The following morning, Harry sat between Hermione and Minerva at breakfast. The latter reading over what was being said in the Prophet. Knowing that he'd get a rundown of the lies that were being told later on, Harry turned to Hermione.

"We'll do it." He whispered, reaching for the jar of juice in front of her.

"We? I said you!" She whispered back, her voice much harsher then Harry had ever heard.

"Mindy knows a lot about the Dark Arts-"

"But what experience does she have?"

Not knowing how to explain without giving away her real identity, Harry ummed and ahhed before Minerva finally put her paper down and looked at them, her eyes narrowed behind her wired frames.

"More so then you, Harry and Ron put together Granger. Now, do you want to learn how to defend yourself, or would you rather die because you couldn't see past your hatred?"

Pursing her lips, Hermione turned back to her breakfast. "Fine. I'll spread the word later today."

"Good."

Between them, Harry was praying they hadn't just made the biggest mistake of their lives.