Early update because I have a dozen or so pre-written chapters ready to upload. Anyway, Goblet of Fire now! So exciting :) Lots of Minerva and Albus and Sirius Black this year :) (Not to mention Voldemort coming back at the end!) Do let me know what you think. And as always, thank you for the lovely reviews. I am so glad that you are enjoying this story!
18 August 1994
Malcolm and Helen's kitchen was busier than usual. Currently sitting around the kitchen table were Pomona, Minerva, with her great-niece Rosie on her lap, Helen and Albert. The latter was looking around the room interestedly. Although he had visited a few times, the wealth of magical items in the room still intrigued him.
Meanwhile, the rest of the McGonagall clan had gone to the Quidditch match along with Grace, Pomona's daughter. Although this had not initially been the plan, indeed it was intended that Minerva would be at the match, a last-minute hiccup had meant that Minerva had offered to give her ticket to her goddaughter instead. More specifically, the hiccup involved Helen who unfortunately had fallen ill a few nights prior. Since it had been arranged that Helen would be the one to stay in Caithness and look after Rosie, Minerva had volunteered to stay behind too when Helen had fallen ill. After all, it seemed most unfair to leave Helen on her own, with a young child, while she was also poorly.
However, after a whole evening and day with an almost empty house, accompanied by Helen's frequent reassurances that she was fine, it had been arranged for Pomona and Albert to come for dinner.
"I wonder what caused it," Pomona said, accepting Rosie from Minera who had just got up to make some tea. "Has this happened before?"
Helen tilted her head from side to side. "Every once in a while," she said. "It seems to be an on and off sort of thing," she added, which received a nod from Minerva by the stove. "Malcolm has finally persuaded me to book an appointment at St Mungo's."
Pomona frowned slightly while simultaneously letting Rosie take hold of her pinkie. "Perhaps that's best, dear," she said. "It may be nothing, but better safe than sorry."
Helen nodded and wrapped the shawl tightly across her shoulders as she shivered. "I suppose," she said. "Oh, thank you, Minerva," she said, gratefully accepting the mug of tea Minerva was offering her.
Minerva patted her shoulder, then sat down too, waving her wand so that the rest of the mugs glided to the table. "Would you like me to turn up the fire?" she asked, concerned.
"Goodness, no," Helen said, wrapping her hands around her mug. "You'll all be boiling."
Minerva watched her sister-in-law. The faintest of blue tinges were present on her usually rosy lips. "I'll get you another blanket from upstairs," she said, getting up again. "No need for hypothermia," she added.
Helen smiled weakly. "Perhaps take Rosie too," she said. "It's almost past her bedtime."
Minerva nodded and bent down to pick up the small baby from Pomona's arms. "Come on, dear," she said lightly. "Time for bed, I think?"
Rosie gurgled, then leant her head against Minerva's chest.
"Back in two ticks," Minerva told the others before leaving the room. The wireless was quietly humming music in the living room, and Minerva turned it up a bit; she did not want to miss the results of the match. Ireland vs Bulgaria — she had really wanted to watch that one, she thought, a little dejectedly. But, she reminded herself, Malcolm had promised to take photographs for her.
Minerva sighed just as Rosie moved and whimpered slightly.
"There, there, now," Minerva said soothingly, moving away from the wireless and continuing upstairs. "Was I taking too long for your liking?"
"Nghmm," said Rosie.
Minerva smiled and kissed her on the head. "My apologies, dear," she said, rocking Rosie gently. "Let's get you sorted."
Minerva climbed the steps until she reached the first landing. The second spare room in Malcolm and Helen's house had temporarily been made into a makeshift nursery. It felt strange walking in there and seeing a cot and drawers filled with baby clothes and other items. Once, a very very long time ago now, this room had belonged to Minerva herself. Next door, where Malcolm and Helen slept, had been her mother and father's room. And the room after that had been Malcolm and Robert's room.
Following their mother's funeral, it had felt cruel to sell the house. At first, it had been left empty. Helen and Malcolm had lived in their house down the road; finding it too difficult to move back into the manse. Minerva too had been at Hogwarts, and could not find it in her to return to her childhood home. It was only until recently that the house was in use again. And although sad sometimes, walking through the halls and remembering the times she had spent with her brothers and parents, Minerva and Malcolm were glad that the house was still theirs.
Minerva walked to the cot and lay Rosie down in it. She then pulled the blanket up so that it was covering Rosie's small body. The girl barely made a sound while all of this happened. She was drowsy and almost asleep. Minerva smiled and stroked Rosie's head before quietly going back downstairs, picking up another blanket as she went. As she reached the living room again she bumped into Pomona.
"I think we might head off now," Pomona told her as she gently closed the bathroom door. "Helen seems to be getting quite tired now, so I'd rather we not overstay our welcome. What time should we come to pick Grace up tomorrow?" she added.
"I think they are planning on heading back at 12," Minerva said, trying to remember the plan. "I'll send you a message when they get back."
Pomona nodded, and she leant in a kissed Minerva on the cheek. "Thank you, dear," she said as they moved through to the kitchen.
"Heading off?" asked Helen as Minerva and Pomona entered the kitchen; the latter with her coat in her arms.
"I think so," Pomona replied. "It's getting late, and Albert has work tomorrow."
Albert nodded - he was a secondary school teacher at a muggle school and unlike the Professors at Hogwarts, he still had to go to school every day during the holidays.
"Summer camp," he explained, getting up.
"Albert is meant to be supervising games ranging from water fights to tennis," added Pomona, patting her husband's arm and smiling.
Helen smiled too. "Goodness, if only Hogwarts had done that," she said, catching Minerva's eye as she got up. "Imagine Professor McGonagall engaging in watersports."
Pomona chuckled, and Minerva shook her head. "I would rather you not imagine," she said, and Helen smirked as she linked her arms with her.
"I'm sorry. Reading club then?"
Pomona snorted, and the 4 of them moved to the living room.
"Maybe next year you can drop a suggestion to Dumbledore?" Helen teased. "Oh, use the floo," she added suddenly, noticing Pomona and Albert had been making their way to the front door.
"Are you sure?"
Helen nodded confidently. "Yes, of course. Malcolm went to the shops yesterday. Our floo pot is positively overflowing with powder," she added. "It will probably last us for 5 years, at least."
She smiled and fumbled with the pot on the mantelpiece and handed it over. Pomona took it gratefully.
"Thank you for having us, Helen," she said, kissing the witch on the cheek. "I do hope you start to feel better soon."
"Thank you," Helen said, patting Pomona's arm and then turning to Albert. "I'll be fit as a fiddle in no time, I'm sure."
After they had all said their goodbyes, Albert and Pomona got ready to go; the former looking a little nervous. Minerva didn't blame him - using floo powder was a strange experience. Though a great deal more comfortable than disapparation, she thought.
Pomona and Albert stepped into the emerald flames, waved, and then disappeared.
"That was nice," Helen said, though she closed her eyes briefly and leaned her head on Minerva's shoulder.
"I think bed for you too," Minerva said, rubbing Helen's arm. "Can you manage the stairs?"
"'Course," Helen mumbled.
Minerva waited a moment until Helen had mustered enough strength and then guided the witch up the staircase. By the time they reached the top Helen was leaning heavily, if not fully, on Minerva.
"Can I get you anything, dear?" Minerva asked once Helen was safely in bed. "Some water? An extra blanket?"
"I think I'm all right, Minerva, thank you," Helen murmured, her eyelids already drifting shut. She forced them open and put her hand on Minerva's wrist. "Thanks for the help with Rosie today and for staying. I know how much you wanted to go to that match."
"That's quite all right," Minerva said sincerely. "I'm sure we will hear all about the Irish's victory tomorrow."
Helen smiled weakly. "Two peas in a pod you and Malcolm," she said, rolling her eyes. "Bulgaria is going to win."
Minerva smiled and shrugged.
"Prepare yourself for disappointment, Minerva," Helen murmured as Minerva moved towards the door. She then tried to sit up a bit. "Wake me up if Rosie cries," she added. "You lost enough sleep last night."
Minerva shook her head. "I will do no such thing," she said. "Now, get some rest. Let me know if you need anything."
Barely three hours later, Minerva's eyelids fluttered open as the sound of Rosie's crying grew louder. Slowly, she removed her duvet and began to get up. As she straightened and the soles of her feet touched the wooden floorboards, Minerva stumbled slightly. Disorientated and a little tired, she rubbed her eyes with one hand while the others tapped blindly on the bedside table in search of her glasses.
Rosie's crying got steadily louder, and now a little more alert, Minerva snapped her fingers so that her spectacles shot into her hands instead. Once they were on she hurried out of her bedroom.
"Hush now," she said soothingly, arriving beside Rosie's cot and bending down to pick up the small bundle.
Rosie opened her arms and clung tightly to Minerva's neck.
"Whatever is wrong, dear?" Minerva asked, softly rocking the wee girl in her arms. Rosie buried her head into Minerva's chest and, slowly, her crying became just small whimpers. It was only when she had stopped crying entirely that Minerva became aware of a faint knocking on the door downstairs. Rosie whimpered again as Minerva frowned and walked out of the bedroom.
"Minerva?" Minerva looked left to see Helen also poking her head out of her room. "Am I dreaming or is that the door?
Minerva strained her ears and looked towards the staircase.
Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap.
"That is definitely the door," she said.
"Should—should we open it?" Helen asked tentatively. She looked questioningly at Minerva who nodded firmly.
"It may be someone in need of assistance," she said, walking over to her sister-in-law to give her Rosie.
Helen opened her arms and accepted the baby. However, she also reached out and grabbed Minerva's arm. "What if—what if it's a burglar?"
"I doubt burglars knock, Helen," Minerva said, though, worried herself, she opened her hand so that her wand zoomed into it. "I promise I will be careful," she added.
Helen furrowed her eyebrows as Minerva began to make her way downstairs. "Be careful," she called after her.
Minerva looked back and gave Helen a reassuring smile before continuing her descent. The closer she got to the door, the more urgent the knocking became. It was a surprise neither she nor Helen had heard it earlier, Minerva thought. Presumably, it was this racket that had woken Rosie up.
"Helen, is that you?" came a voice from the other side of the door.
Minerva frowned, instantly recognising the voice. Her grip around her wand loosened, and she opened the door abruptly to find Malcolm and Grace on the other side of it.
"Oh," she said as Grace immediately shot inside and wrapped her arm tightly around Minerva's waist. Minerva stumbled back a little and looked up bewilderedly at her brother. "It's 3 o'clock in the morning, Malcolm."
"I know," he said, rubbing his eyes. "I know. Look, Minerva," he said hurriedly, "something happened at the match. We got separated from the others, so I need to go back and find them. Look after Grace and call Pomona."
"What am I meant to tell her? Malcolm, what happened?"
"Death Eaters, Minerva. There were Death Eaters at the match and the—the Dark Mark."
Minerva felt her stomach plummet.
"I need to go," he said, giving her a hurried and shaky kiss on the cheek.
"No—Malcolm!" Minerva tried to grab Malcolm's arm, but he was already stumbling away.
"Stay here, and I'll be back soon," he told her. And without waiting for a reply, he gave her a semi-wave and then disapparated.