29 May 1993
A firm hand shaking her whole body woke Minerva bright and early on the last Friday before exams began.
"Did you sleep at your desk?"
Minerva's head throbbed as she raised it; apparently, the answer to her assailant's question was yes—she had, indeed, fallen asleep at her desk, pillowed by stacks of parchment. "What time is it?" she mumbled sleepily, her voice cracking.
"Never mind that!" Pomona's voice said excitedly, from somewhere above her head. "Get some new robes on—the Mandrakes are ready!"
Minerva, who was still massaging her neck and blinking away sleep, stared up at her for almost thirty seconds before the statement meant anything to her. She'd slept so little, and so poorly in the last month that she was having a hard time waking up from what had been a surprisingly sound rest.
"Minerva!" Pomona snapped, waving her hands frantically.
"Oh!" she gasped suddenly, jumping up and seizing Pomona's upper arms. "You mean—?"
"Yes, you ridiculous thing, yes!" Pomona cried, practically jumping up and down. "The leaves have all spotted over, they're ready, I've just got to harvest them! We can have a cure by tonight! Poppy and Severus are already getting to work with the other ingredients!"
"By tonight!" Minerva yelped, clapping her hands over her mouth. She bolted from the room, into her quarters, where she spent several minutes trying to put fresh robes on inside-out until Pomona banged on the door and she realized what she'd done.
Five minutes later, the two of them were weaving their way through the crowd of breakfast stragglers, only a few of whom seemed mildly surprised by the sight of their teachers half-running through the corridors. Minerva's heart was racing as she strode up the aisle between the house tables, unable to resist the faint smile creeping onto her face.
They would have Albus back, and Hagrid, and all of the children would be all right. They would catch the Heir of Slytherin, or whoever was acting on his behalf, and finally, finally be done with this wretched school year; she actually had a wild thought of stroking Mrs. Norris behind the ears once the cat was cured.
She ascended the platform behind the staff table. She raised both hands to draw the students' attention, and chatter in the hall died down.
"I have good news," she announced, but before she could get anything else out, she was interrupted by jubilant cries.
"Dumbledore's coming back!"
"You've caught the Heir of Slytherin!"
"Quidditch matches are back on!" bellowed Oliver Wood, to a number of raucous shouts.
Minerva couldn't help but smile, and saw that on either side of where she stood, the faculty were looking equally amused—apparently, she'd been the last to rise, and therefore the last to know. She gave Pomona a nod. "Professor Sprout has informed me that the Mandrakes are ready for cutting at last. Tonight, we will be able to revive those people who have been Petrified. I need hardly remind you all that one of them may well be able to tell us who, or what, attacked them. I am hopeful that this dreadful year will end with our catching the culprit."
The entire Great Hall erupted into cheers, as students leapt up from tables, slapped high-fives, and hugged each other; some even cried tears of joy. Minerva saw a handful of Hufflepuff seventh years rush forward to Pomona and offer their help harvesting the Mandrakes during their free periods.
"I don't believe it," said Filius, and Minerva looked at him. He looked relieved, but exhausted—exactly how she felt.
"I have to write to Albus. And I must prepare a letter to Cornelius Fudge," she said. "I want to get Hagrid back here as quickly as possible once we've identified the responsible person. I'll write to the governors as well…"
"Good luck," Filius told her, with an encouraging smile. "Let me know how I can be helpful…"
Even the prospect of writing to the school governors couldn't dampen Minerva's spirit. They would have their answers in a matter of hours, she told herself as the first bell rang, and she made her way back up to her office. The students' excitement was palpable; already losing focus in the balmy, comfortable weather, they would surely be rendered impossible in a classroom setting by the additional mood boost.
Feeling celebratory, and wanting to take advantage of her free period between lessons that morning, Minerva penned her letter to Albus and then strolled up to the Owlery to send it off. When she had done so, she tucked her hands in her pockets and began walking back in the direction of her classroom, taking her time to enjoy the sunlight streaming in from the high windows in a way that it surely hadn't for many months.
Feeling thoroughly cheerful, she rounded a corner and spotted two errant, but very familiar figures running down the corridor ahead of her. She gaped for a moment, and then recovered her voice.
"Potter! Weasley!" she barked. The figures skidded to a halt and whirled around, both blanching. "What are you doing?" She descended on them and glared between their panicked faces.
"We were—we were—" Weasley stammered, one hand pointing in the vague direction of the nearby staircase. "We were going to—to go and see—"
"Hermione," said Potter.
Minerva was so startled by this, she stared at him blankly.
"We haven't seen her for ages, Professor," he said, looking embarrassed, "and we thought we'd sneak into the hospital wing, you know, and tell her the Mandrakes are nearly ready and, er, not to worry—"
Minerva felt sure that she was being put on—that the two boys had simply figured out how to get away from their teacher escort (Lockhart, she was sure, which meant that they were skiving off of History of Magic), and were off to do something that, had she been privy to the details, would likely make her head explode. But at the same time, she was struck by just how strangely lonely Ron and Harry looked without Hermione Granger between them. Unchecked emotion, fueled by lack of sleep and genuine happiness at the approaching end to all this madness, suddenly welled in her chest, and she felt tears fill her eyes.
"Of course," she said faintly, her voice cracking. "Of course, I realize this has all been hardest on the friends of those who have been…" She shook her head. "I quite understand. Yes, Potter, of course you may visit Miss Granger. I will inform Professor Binns where you've gone. Tell Madam Pomfrey I have given my permission."
Harry glanced at Ron, and they started off the way Minerva had come down the corridor, rather than the direction they'd been heading previously. So they had been going somewhere else, she thought, taking out a handkerchief and blowing her nose. Well, at least the hospital wing was supervised. She sighed and shook her head, feeling foolish and overemotional.
Not long, she thought, checking her watch for the hundredth time that hour as she walked to her classroom door, where the Hufflepuff fourth years stood, fresh from their Charms lesson. Filius gave her a nod and a smile before leaving her to usher them inside. She set them to work in groups, developing study guides and notes for their looming exams, beginning on Monday. The Hufflepuffs looked miserable at the thought of exams, but the same, impermeable excitement that had begun at breakfast still seemed to underlie the entire lesson anyway.
"Diggory, check that definition," she said, tapping a finger on his parchment as she passed one of the groups on her circle through the room. Cedric Diggory re-read his notes, crossed out the incorrect definition, and flipped open his textbook to find the correct wording.
"Everyone hoping to succeed on their exam ought to make sure that they have a clear understanding of Switching Spells…a little friendly advice," Minerva advised the classroom at large, and was rewarded by a sudden fluttering movement of books and quills. She approached her desk and was about to sit down when the door swung open, and a small girl poked her head inside.
Minerva leapt up and hurried Luna Lovegood back out the door before the Hufflepuffs could see her. The girl didn't seem to mind being pushed, but looked up at Minerva with enormous blue eyes when she had recovered her footing out in the corridor.
"Miss Lovegood, what on earth—?" she began angrily, but Luna cut her off.
"Ginny Weasley is missing, Professor," she said calmly. "She's supposed to be in Defense Against the Dark Arts with me, but Professor Lockhart gave us a study period while he's in his office, and she isn't with the other Gryffindors. I went to the bathroom to look for her, but I couldn't find her."
Due mainly—or at least, firstly—to the wealth of rule-breaking in these few short statements, Minerva felt as though she'd taken a blow to the head, and stared down at the girl. "Ex—excuse me?"
"Ginny is missing, Professor McGonagall," Luna repeated, still imperturbably and unnervingly calm. "I can't find her."
Minerva's heart hammered in her ears. She put a hand on Lovegood's shoulder and steered her back in the direction of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, four doors down. She didn't know whom she wanted to strangle more—Gilderoy Lockhart, for being so inattentive, or Ginny Weasley, for following in her brothers' footsteps and taking advantage of it. "I will look into this, Miss Lovegood. In future, however, you must abide by the rules—you're not to wander about the castle on your own."
"What about Ginny?" Luna asked, a small frown creasing her forehead.
"I will find Miss Weasley," she said, her racing pulse now starting to constrict her throat. She's playing a joke, she told herself, there's no reason to feel afraid. Calm down. "You may count on that. Now, go back to your lesson."
Luna's enormous eyes remained fixed on her for a long moment. It was the closest thing to a worried expression that Minerva had ever seen on the girl's face. Then, without another word, she retreated back into the classroom, shutting the door with a snap.
Minerva looked at her watch. It was thirty minutes until break. She broke into a run and bolted to the nearest girls' bathroom she could think of. She flew through two corridors at breakneck speed, her mind racing.
She's in the bathroom, Minerva told herself. She's in the bathroom, she's sneaked back up to Gryffindor Tower to take a nap—she's with her brothers—something!
She was about to wrench the bathroom door open, about to scream Ginny Weasley's name, when something in her gut stopped her. She had just hurtled past a stretch of wall without a second thought, but now her brain seemed to have processed what she'd seen only peripherally.
With a sensation of dread like a distant thunderclap, Minerva faced the wall. She was at Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and the wall where the Heir of Slytherin had painted his message. Only now, there was a new one beneath the first, which had been horribly smeared, as though someone had drawn their hand through fresh blood. Minerva felt faint, and her knees buckled. She half-collapsed against the wall behind her, one hand clutching her chest, and read,
HER SKELETON WILL LIE IN THE CHAMBER FOREVER
