A March Through Time

"Avada Kedavra!" A deadly bolt of green light shot out from Albus' wand straight at Minerva's silvery shield. With a flick of her wrist, her shield deflected the curse.

Minerva countered immediately. "Crucio!"

Albus sent a fiery ball of energy on an interception course. "Imperio!"

Faster than the oncoming curse streaking towards her, Minerva transformed into her animagi form. She dashed towards Dumbledore. The third curse hit the far dungeon wall sending a spray of stones and bricks into the air.

Minerva reappeared in a crouching position in front of Albus. "Moraris Mori!"

Albus held his hands up. "PROTEGO!"

His shield glowed red as the dark green curse impacted. Albus was pushed back a few steps. The curse did not dissipate as expected. Albus was forced to maintain his shield as the curse persisted.

Standing well off to the side, the portrait of Phineas Nigellus asked, "For how long does it last?"

"Duration is proportional to the magical strength of the creator," explained Minerva. Dressed in slim black trousers tucked into black boots with a red leather vest over a buttoned down, long-sleeved white blouse, she looked more warrior than teacher.

"The longest so far is twenty minutes," added Albus as he planted his feet more firmly and made a pushing motion with both hands. His shield glowed brighter and expanded another meter.

"Do you feel the draw, Albus?" asked Armando observing the Moraris curse in action beside Phineas' portrait. The dark green mass of energy stretched to the edges of Albus' shield.

"Of course I do!" answered Albus. He sounded just a bit cross. "Just wait until it's your turn!"

Minerva gestured at the curse and slowly closed her right fist while pulling her fist towards her body. The curse energy began to recede into the center of Albus' shield.

Armando scribbled on a piece of parchment. "I'm quite content to leave the experimentation to the two of you."

"Minerva, are you … are you doing … something?" asked Dumbledore. With spread fingers, he positioned his hands closer together so they formed a sphere. His shield began to undulate and cycle through various reddish hues. "It feels different than … than before." Perspiration began to bead on his forehead.

"I'd like to see if narrowing the focus is sufficient to-"

Albus' shield and the Moraris curse exploded with an ear-splitting crack like lightning on a clear day. Albus was thrown a good three meters backwards.

"- penetrate your shield," finished Minerva. "And, yes, it is."

Sprawled on the cold ground flat on his back, Albus groaned. "I plan on … on sleeping for a week. I feel … quite spent."

Minerva bent over him feeling his forehead and helping him to his feet. "How did it feel this time, Albus?"

"Like a stiletto slipping deep into my side. No pain but an obvious decrease in energy and oxygen the deeper it went. That last minute felt like I was breathing underwater," gasped Albus. "What's the next … next test?"

Minerva gave him a Pepper-Up potion which he drained in one gulp. "This concludes my test. Thank you, Albus." She helped Albus remove the heavy gray over-robe that had served as his body armor.

"Phineus, as our Dark Arts expert, has Minerva created a curse of Unforgivable quality?" asked Armando.

Phineus' eyes narrowed. He looked at Minerva with the light of speculation in his eyes. "I would say she has. Oh, what you could have accomplished in my house."

"The Sorting Hat couldn't decide between Ravenclaw or Gryffindor," said Minerva. She pressed a glass of pumpkin juice on Dumbledore. "Have more liquids. The curse kills you from the inside. One of the first things it targets is water in your body then oxygen. You have to be dehydrated. Drink up."

Phineas continued, "It is aptly named - the Lingering Death Curse. It is an ingenious, complex approach, Miss McGonagall. Not instant like the Avada with the suffering aspects of the Cruciatus. It certainly keeps the victim occupied as they work to keep it at bay all the while it depletes them of life energy. Brilliantly devious."

"Well, that was not what I was aiming for in its final form," said Minerva. "It's a nightmare."

"What will be your next step, Minerva?" asked Armando. "It will have to be reviewed and registered with the Ministry beforehand prior to publication."

Minerva shook her head. "I'm not releasing it. Ever. It's far too dangerous."

"That is your prerogative but I would suggest that we keep the codex intact," said Armando.

"Why risk someone stumbling over it in the future? Albus and I are the only two who know how to cast it, and once I've destroyed everything, no one else can use it. It's for the best," said Minerva.

"I feel that it could be important," said Armando.

"Are you certain?" asked Albus.

Armando nodded. "It was an extremely strong impression."

"I suppose it can be stored at Gringotts and-" began Albus.

"Albus, the curse nearly killed you. How can you think about keeping it? " asked Minerva.

"I shall explain over dinner, Minerva," said Armando. "Not a word to Slughorn. We shall keep all knowledge of this matter to the four of us. It will be our little secret."

Albus found Minerva reading the Daily Prophet in the staff lounge. The front page was dominated by the mysterious death of Hepzibah Smith, a descendant of school founder Helga Hufflepuff.

"Minerva, I have a problem."

She put the paper down on the table. "What can I do to help?"

"The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher I've hired cannot assume his post until next term. Would you consider teaching DADA this year?" asked Albus.

"Teach two disciplines simultaneously and run my house? You overestimate my capacity."

"I will teach your Transfiguration classes."

"You're far more qualified than I to teach DADA."

"Here speaks one who created the-you-know-what," teased Albus. "Consider it an opportunity to increase your overall teaching experience before you become my deputy next year. It is only for the year. Do not become attached to it."

"I shan't. If I am to teach properly, I shall have to revise the coursework," said Minerva.

"You will have a free hand. By all means, teach DADA as you see fit," said Albus.

"Some parents may feel I'm too rigorous. I warn you there shall be complaints."

Albus smiled. "Send any letters to me, Professor. It will be my pleasure to, what's the muggle saying, run interference for you."

On a chilly February morning in 1971, Albus sat in his office watching Alastor Moody pace across the floor. The auror had raced to Hogwarts after giving his superiors a report on the spate of Death Eater attacks. The Ministry was not in any hurry to do something about it. Moody had had enough.

"Minerva is ideal. She's an animagi and -"

"No, Alastor. That is final."

"I think we should let her decide if she wants to help the Order or not."

Albus rose to his full height. "You will not be informing Minerva about the Order. You will not breathe one word about it."

"But," insisted Alastor. "She could get into places we never could. And, what's more, no one knows her to be one of us."

"And that is how it will stand."

"We don't have to use her in the field. Her organizing talents would be a godsend setting up safe locations, procuring supplies and such."

Albus pinned the younger man with an implacable stare. "Alastor, I will not repeat myself again, you will not, nor will anyone else, speak of the Order to Minerva. If I hear of anyone doing so, you will answer to me."

"I don't understand your reluctance to use her talents -" Albus flicked one finger and Alastor found himself immobile, rooted to the floor.

"I will not use her for anything, for anyone, for any reason. I made a promise to ... someone once that I would take care of her and see her happy. I mean to fulfill that promise." Albus flicked his finger again. Alastor sagged. "Minerva is the new head of Gryffindor this year. I do not want my deputy to be overburdened more than she already is."

The headmaster lay back against his chair and closed his eyes. He was exhausted. It was the end of term and yet he felt himself growing more and more restive. Voldemort had returned as he had feared. Harry's account of what happened with Quirrell confirmed his worst fears. Minister Fudge had turned a blind ear to any attempt he made to talk about Voldemort. And what of Harry?

His rumination was interrupted by two sharp knocks at his door. "Come in, Minerva."

"I've brought you sustenance and to nag you to sleep." Minerva placed a steaming cup of hot cocoa on his desk. "As my mother always said the way to a man's heart was through his stomach."

"You won my heart a long time ago." The words left his mouth before he could think. His eyes flew to her face while his tongue formed an apology.

A soft smile graced her lips. "And look where it's got me, nagging and cajoling you to not overwork." Over the years of them working together, their private banter had become more and more flirtatious. Minerva saw no harm in it. Flirting eased the tension and no one was harmed by it. "All the children are gone. There will be time enough to finish all this tomorrow. Drink your cocoa and get to bed."

"Yes. mother." He was contrite but he made no move to follow her request.

Minerva chuckled. "You can be so stubborn sometimes." She wrapped one hand around his cocoa.

"And you never let me win an argument."

"What are friends for?" Minerva shooed him away from his desk and into his bedroom. She helped him with his ornate outer cloak then transformed his inner robe into a nightshirt.

"You are a very managing female."

"Someone has to take you in hand otherwise you walk all over anyone who tries to help you." She fluffed his pillows and waited until he got into bed. She made sure that a book lay ready for him next to his cocoa. With infinite care, she brushed back a strand of hair that had slipped over his face. "Get some sleep."

"On one condition - that you join me for a picnic by the lake tomorrow."

"Agreed." Minerva gave him a quick peck on the lips. A kiss between friends nothing more. "Good night, Albus."

"Good night, Minerva." Albus watched her leave and close the door. "Sweet dreams, my love."