PART SIX

L: The Attacks, One

Minerva returned to her office, putting her books and parchments in their proper places, then thought about tea. Going back to her rooms and using the loo, Minerva remembered her brief conversation with Hagrid earlier that day. She really ought to pay him a visit. She hadn't seen much of him since she had returned to teach, as their paths rarely crossed. He seldom came to meals in the Great Hall, she had noticed, although she was sure that Dumbledore had made him welcome at the staff table. Likely a habit from the years when Dippet was Headmaster.

Although many people had been very fond of the previous Headmaster, Minerva's own feelings for Armando Dippet were ambivalent. He had seemed to respect Dumbledore and value his advice, both of which Minerva approved, and by vesting the wards in Dumbledore, he had clearly been willing to hand the Transfiguration teacher a large portion of the authority that usually accompanied being Headmaster. Nonetheless, the events at the end of her sixth year had irrevocably changed her view of Headmaster Dippet. He may have been an "old softy," as Poppy had said yesterday, but that was not always a good thing – it depended to whom he was being a "softy," Minerva supposed. He certainly had not shown much backbone at the time, and he had not listened to his Deputy Headmaster's advice on that occasion. Minerva remembered those frightening weeks in May and June when she had come to believe that Hogwarts might be closed for good.

Minerva had been surprised to learn at the first prefects' meeting of her sixth year that Tom Riddle had been made a prefect. Because she had arrived early to begin her Animagus training and to learn about the project with which Dumbledore wanted her help, Minerva hadn't been on the Hogwarts Express back to school, so when she saw Riddle approaching the classroom in which the first meeting was to be held, wearing a shiny new prefect's badge on his robe, she was stunned. Riddle noticed her surprise at seeing him, and he looked down at her with an arrogant smile.

"Some people know quality when they see it, McGonagall," he said, sneering as he swept past her and into the classroom.

"How could you let a bully like Riddle become prefect?" she had asked indignantly the next time she was alone with her Transfiguration teacher.

"Such things are not up to me, Minerva," he had replied patiently.

"Yes, but you are the Deputy Headmaster, and you are in charge of the prefects. Didn't you have anything to say in the matter?"

"As you know, the prefects are chosen, two from each House, by a vote. I am only one vote. And it was pointed out by Professor Slughorn that Mr Riddle is an exemplary student and a leader amongst the Slytherins, demonstrating two of the qualities sought in a prefect."

"Leader," scoffed Minerva. "He's a bully, and you know it. He's even a bully in his own House, even if he goes about it more subtly there. He always manages to come out smelling clean whenever there's any trouble in Slytherin, but I'm sure that's only because he's learned how not to get caught. You know he will abuse his position, Professor. He was bad enough before; now he's got the school's blessing to intimidate students from other Houses and to push around the ones in his own – or is that what they call 'leadership' in Slytherin?"

Dumbledore had calmed her down and assured her that he would keep an eye on Riddle. She would, too, for that matter, but when she told her professor that, he looked at her sharply and said, "Be careful of him, Minerva. Your assessment of his character may be correct, but it is incomplete; I can say no more, but remember my warning. Try not to get on his wrong side."

"If the only other option is to be on his right side, then I'd rather get on his wrong side." Minerva shook her head in disbelief. He was Head of Gryffindor House, and he was telling a Gryffindor to make nice to a nasty, bullying, Slytherin?

"Just be careful, please. Come see me if there is a problem. I will sort it out."

Minerva just nodded, acknowledging what he'd said. She was almost of age, though, and she certainly wasn't going to run to one of her teachers just because a Big, Bad Slytherin might want to intimidate her.

Over the first months of the term, she had caught the boy out after curfew several times, and never in the dungeons, where he might have a conceivable excuse to be. The first time, he had used his prefect's badge as his excuse, but when Minerva pointed out to him that he was not on the patrol list, he claimed not to have known that curfew applied to prefects when they weren't on patrol. He smiled at her charmingly, as though that would convince her to forget all of the times the previous year when she had almost caught him browbeating, hexing, or intimidating other students – "almost" because the students involved would always deny there was any trouble and no witnesses would admit to it, either. Minerva didn't know what it was that Riddle said to someone that would keep them quiet every time they could have reported his behaviour, but whatever it was, it had kept Riddle's name out of her reports. Minerva actually had begun to report each incident involving the Slytherin, even when there was no complaint and no specific evidence of what Minerva believed he had been doing just before she arrived, but Dumbledore told her just a few weeks into her fifth year that she had to stop making those reports.

"I'm sorry, Minerva. It looks to some as though you have a personal grudge against Mr Riddle; I have been asked to tell you not to make any more reports about him unless you actually catch him doing something that is against the school rules."

Minerva was angry, and she did not hesitate to let her mentor know it. Was she supposed to turn a blind eye when he bullied other students, especially young ones?

"Minerva, if these students wished, they could complain to their Heads of House, even if they do not wish to speak with you about it. No one has done so. I agree with you that this fact may be meaningless in this situation; nonetheless, it is so. And I would never want you to turn a blind eye to anything that you believe is wrong, you know that. Just make unofficial reports to me when you see such things, but avoid calling unnecessary attention to yourself in the process."

Minerva had grumbled, but had done as Professor Dumbledore requested throughout her fifth year. And now here he was, almost a year later, "Prefect" Tom Riddle, trying to charm her with his smile. She was having none of it, but knowing what the response would be if she reported him, Minerva let him go with a warning that first time she found him out after curfew. Early in October, she caught him out past curfew a second time, but Riddle had a note from Professor Slughorn with him. When Minerva pointed out that the time on the note was two hours past and that the Potions classroom in which he had supposedly been working was in the dungeons, as was his dormitory, and not on the second floor, where they were, the Slytherin just laughed and told her that if she had a problem with it, she should speak with Professor Slughorn about it. Then he looked her up and down, a leer on his face, and said, "Or you could run to your Professor Dumbledore about it – it would give you another excuse to see him, after all. You should be grateful to me for that, McGonagall." He licked his lower lip, in what Minerva presumed he thought was a lascivious way, and added, "How grateful would you be?"

Minerva suppressed a disgusted shudder. "You really are a pathetic child, you do know that, don't you, Riddle? And I will let Professor Slughorn know that you were able to make use of his note. I am sure he will be will be most pleased with you." The expression of fury that contorted Riddle's face when she told him that he was a pathetic child did not escape Minerva's notice; nonetheless, she turned her back to him and walked away, half-expecting that he would hex her. She was almost disappointed that he didn't – she would finally have had proof that he was the nasty little snake she had always believed him to be. His insinuation about "running to Dumbledore" troubled her little – he was just a revolting Slytherin with a dirty mind. He only had friends whom he intimidated or who were useful to him; what would he understand of her relationship with her mentor? Minerva knew that he was a favourite of Slughorn's, but she was sure that, whatever Slughorn's thoughts were when he had admitted Riddle into his little elite group of students, Riddle was gaining more from Slughorn than Slughorn would ever profit from his acquaintance with him.

Minerva only ran into Riddle during her Prefect Patrol three more times; each time, he had a note from Professor Slughorn. Minerva thought that either he was becoming more adept at avoiding her when she patrolled, or else he was checking the Prefect Patrol schedule and had confined his lurking the halls to those nights when she wasn't on the schedule. She never heard from other prefects that they had found him out after hours, but it wasn't as though she had taken a poll, either.

Then one evening in May, while on Prefect Patrol, Minerva came across a horrifying sight: a student lying frozen at the feet of one of the suits of armour. As she ran to him, she could see that it was a student from Hufflepuff, a second-year, she thought. Her own heart pounding in her chest, Minerva felt for a pulse and found one. Someone must have cursed him, perhaps with Petrificus Totalis, so she lifted her wand and said, "Finite Incantatum!" When that failed to release the young boy from his petrified state, Minerva was unsure what to do. She was patrolling alone. She did not want to leave to get help, but she could do the boy no good by staying with him, either. Yelling for help on the apparently deserted second floor would probably be useless – and if the person who had done this was still around, it would attract his attention, even if no help came.

Frightened by the thought that whoever had done this might be nearby, Minerva cast Mobilicorpus and began levitating the Hufflepuff toward the hospital wing, then, remembering how Wilspy had come when she had called her, she yelled out, "Wilspy! Wilspy, come quickly, I need you!"

A second later the house-elf appeared.

"Get Professor Dumbledore! Tell him a student's badly hurt and I'm bringing him to the hospital wing."

Without a word, Wilspy popped away.

Levitating the frozen student, Minerva was making her way to the staircase that would lead her to the first floor and the main entrance of the infirmary when she heard someone running up the stairs. It was Dumbledore. With relief, Minerva gave the boy over to his care, and at his direction, lowered the student to the ground.

"I have sent Wilspy to fetch Madam Valentius," he said as he knelt beside the child. Running his left hand over the boy's body whilst casting a spell with his wand in his right, Dumbledore's face grew more worried. "This is no curse. I do not know what caused this, but it did not come from the end of a wand."

In the distance, they could hear others approaching the foot of the stairs on the first floor. Professor Dumbledore levitated the student and started down the stairs, calling after him for Minerva to follow.

"It's Jeremy Flanders, Madam Valentius. He's been petrified by something; I do not know what caused it."

After they had brought the Hufflepuff to the infirmary, Professor Dumbledore drew her into one of the private rooms – she thought it was the one she had stayed in after her accident the previous December – and questioned her about everything she had seen and heard before she had found the boy. But Minerva could think of nothing at all out of the ordinary.

The next few weeks were terrifying. Two more students were found in a state similar to the one young Jeremy Flanders had been in. Minerva cursed herself for not having been more observant before she had discovered him. There must have been some clue that she had missed that evening, something that would have revealed what sinister force was at work, but she had seen and heard nothing, other than the drippy tap in girl's bathroom, which was hardly unusual.

And then in early June, Myrtle was killed. Killed in the bathroom with the drippy tap.

Despite the new, strict rules in place, requiring all students to remain in their common rooms, to go nowhere but their classes and meals, and then only when accompanied by a teacher, Minerva slipped out of Gryffindor Tower that evening, earning a rebuke from the Fat Lady. She ran quickly down the stairs toward the first floor. She needed to see Professor Dumbledore; she was driven to see him. She didn't even know why; she just wanted some reassurance that all was well. As she waited for the staircase between the second and third floors to come around to her, Minerva was grabbed by the shoulder, hard, and twirled around.


A/N: Thank you to everyone who has been reviewing! I really enjoy reading what people's responses are to the various scenes. I try to respond to every signed review for WIPs. (If you don't want a response, just leave an anonymous review, or mention in your review that no response is necessary. I know how it can be to get too much email! grin) Occasionally, people ask questions about the story, and I am happy to answer whatever I am able to, so feel free to ask questions, too. The next chapter should be posted fairly soon, so keep an eye out - in the meantime, I'm sorry about the tiny cliffie. ;-)