Okay come on you know how much I love leaving you all on cliffhangers. Have you met me?
24 June 1979
Minerva lay in St. Mungo's replaying the horrible night over and over and over, for four straight days. Her broken wrist and ribs were mended quickly, for which she was grateful, but her punctured lung took longer to heal, and had the grisly effect of causing her to cough up flecks of blood for a day or so.
She had woken up in the early morning after the attack to a white-faced Elphinstone and a miraculously unhurt Alice Longbottom, who had told her the worst of the news—the Bones family were all dead, and the cottage on Fife had been completely obliterated by fire and curses. Voldemort and Bellatrix had abandoned their fellow, Aloysius Wilkes (who had died when part of the cottage roof collapsed), and escaped the scene when Dumbledore had arrived. Alice and Frank had rushed Minerva and James Potter to St. Mungo's. James had been out cold for several hours, but he was unhurt, and Sirius Black and Lily had stayed behind to try to eliminate as much evidence as possible at the remains of the cottage.
Within half an hour of Minerva's awakening, Albus arrived, and Minerva, drained and barely able to stay awake, relived the entire evening for all three of them from the beginning.
Albus had listened without interrupting; when she said she'd realized that clearly, Edgar and his family had been betrayed, he looked significantly at Elphinstone. When Minerva said that Voldemort had set the fire that had killed the children, Alice had left the room with tears in her eyes. Finally, Minerva's chest had begun to burn with pain again, and Albus rested his hand gently on her knee.
"She needs a break," Elphinstone advised, sitting forward and taking her hand.
"I must return to Hogwarts," Albus said gently. "I will come back."
The whole visit had felt like a dream, and Minerva had fallen asleep almost immediately after Albus's departure. Since then she had had a number of visitors, though she wasn't really coherent enough to speak with any of them, thanks to her painful lungs and the many potions she was given to keep her sedated and dreamless. Somewhere in the haze she remembered seeing Lily and James Potter, Albus, Amelia Bones (who had very stalwartly thanked her for trying to save her brother and had reduced Minerva to tears upon her departure), Roger Bones and his wife, and she was fairly certain that she had woken up in the wee hours one night to see Elphinstone asleep under his cloak in the chair by her bedside.
Now that she was a little more alert three days later, the real weight of what had happened was settling on her, and Minerva felt she was either going to go mad or suffocate beneath it. No matter what Amelia Bones said, no matter how many times Albus reminded her that had she not been there, the Order wouldn't have known what had happened for days, Minerva felt responsible. She could see Voldemort's horrible red eyes gleaming through the darkness and hear screams ringing in her ears as she lay awake in bed; when she slept, Edgar, Eleanor, and the three children watched her from a distance, silent and staring, before they burst into flames.
Albus was covering her classes through their exam period, providing the excuse to both students and staff of a family emergency, but Minerva had actually been holding her family at bay; the moment she was well enough, she penned each of her brothers and her parents quick notes assuring them that she was all right, but that she was not allowed visitors at present—and that she would pay them visits as soon as she could. Of course, it was very likely that they saw through this thin story, but Minerva was in no place to receive them, and couldn't bear the thought of her family all gathered around her, giving her sorrowful looks and assuring her that what had happened was beyond her control.
This, after all, was the problem that had rendered her nearly catatonic since she had fully regained consciousness. Minerva had found herself in a situation out of her control, and she had failed the test. What had started as a single night's reconnaissance had become a week of pain and misery for the entire Order, and Minerva was stuck lying in the hospital, too alert to sleep and too exhausted to do anything but go over the night, again, and again, and again as she stared at the ceiling.
If only she had gone for the little girls, instead of Eleanor.
If only she had met the Death Eaters outside sooner instead of letting them get in.
If only she had been quicker to reach the children, or to take over Edgar's duel so that he could grab the children and get away.
If only she had done something more when she had faced Voldemort.
Her heart felt as though it had been ripped to shreds, and a painful weight had taken its place. She felt paralyzed by her guilt and sadness, and had even taken to feigning sleep when Elphinstone came to see her, which he had done several times thus far.
It was during one of these periods of crushing, paralytic despair that Minerva lay on her back, gazing up at the ceiling of her hospital room. She had been alone since last evening, when she had told Elphinstone she felt too tired for a visit, and then had lain awake until the wee hours.
She would be released from the hospital tomorrow, probably, and from there…well, she didn't know what she would do. She couldn't go to an Order meeting—not yet—and she didn't want to return to Hogwarts until the students had all gone home.
Tears filled her eyes suddenly; she hadn't been able to control this reflex, and it was triggered by absolutely nothing. She rolled onto her side, wiping her eyes on the pillowcase and closing them, letting out a slow breath. She heard the sound of someone coming in the room. Not wishing to interact with a nurse if she could help it, she kept her eyes closed.
"Minerva?"
Her heart gave a jolt, and she opened her eyes. "Oh, my God—Mother," she gasped, sitting up. There was a bizarre sinking sensation in her stomach that was strangely commingled with a surge of happiness she hadn't been expecting. It had been easily six months since the last time she had seen her mother, and now here she stood, looking worried and very frightened, clutching a small bouquet of yellow flowers from Dad's garden. Isobel wore glasses now, her hair had been going white for the last several years, and she was smaller now than she had ever been. She looked even older when her face was so lined with anxiety, but she practically flew to Minerva's side and wrapped her up in her arms.
"Oh, my sweet girl," she whispered, and Minerva felt a sob catch in her chest. "I'm so sorry, Minerva, I can't imagine—but what on earth were you thinking with that letter? As if I wouldn't come down here immediately—"
"Mother," Minerva said, "I—I couldn't—I didn't want—" she broke off, her voice stuck in her throat. Tears filled her eyes again, and she fell silent.
"I know, darling," said Isobel softly, touching her cheek. She wrapped Minerva in her arms again. "Mother's here…"
