Friendship, Love, and the Road Ahead

Friday, 4 September 1942

"I can't believe we had a free period in the middle of the day," Rolanda remarked cheerfully. She skipped ahead of her friends as she said this, and they laughed. Minerva, Rolanda, Poppy, and Pomona were walking together along the edge of the Black Lake, enjoying the sunny September day. It was lunchtime now, but since they'd had a free period right before lunch, they were able to be in the Great Hall as soon as the food was served, and consequently had the rest of the time to themselves.

"Sixth year is going to be a good year," Pomona said with a happy sigh. "I can feel it."

"No OWLs, no NEWTs, more free time…I think I feel the same," Minerva agreed, smiling at Pomona. Pomona smiled back.

"And Quidditch!" Rolanda added in a sing-song voice, skipping again. Minerva laughed.

"And let's not forget, you have a date tomorrow, Minerva," Poppy said teasingly. Minerva's cheeks turned slightly pink, but a small smile played at her lips.

"Yes, of course!" Rolanda said, spinning around and walking backwards now. Minerva shook her head at her friends.

"Come on, leave her alone," Pomona said gently, looping her arm through Minerva's.

"I don't think we're bothering her, do you, Minerva? A date is something to look forward to!" Rolanda replied.

Minerva ignored Rolanda, instead opting to focus straight ahead, towards the Forbidden Forest. Her eyes were soon drawn to a large figure on the edge of the forest. She narrowed her eyes, trying to see better, and instead said, "What's that?"

Minerva's friends turned to see what she was looking at. They started walking towards the figure, several inches taller than even Dumbledore, the tallest professor at Hogwarts, and at least twice as wide as Minerva. There was only one person at Hogwarts that large, and Minerva called out his name as they approached. "Hagrid?"

Rubeus Hagrid turned to see who'd called his name and smiled widely as the four witches approached. He put a finger to his lips, and once they were close enough to hear him at a lower volume, he greeted quietly, "Hello! Have yeh ever seen a bowtruckle?"

"We learned about them when we took Care of Magical Creatures in third year, but I love them, they're so cute!" Pomona whispered, stepping up next to Hagrid. Her friends crowded around her. None of them had decided to keep taking Care of Magical Creatures in their N.E.W.T. years, but they still found magical creatures interesting.

He pointed up into the tree before them, and sure enough, if you looked closely you could make out the small, twig-like creatures walking among the branches. One of them seemed to be standing guard, as it was watching them intently. Minerva remembered from third year that although bowtruckles might be cute, they were quite capable of defending their homes from threats. They were known to claw humans' eyes out who threatened their trees.

"I start Care o' Magical Creatures today," Hagrid whispered. "I 'spect they'll be part o' the lesson." He looked absolutely thrilled at the prospect; the pure excitement on his face brought a smile to Minerva's face.

"What, are you a third year?" Rolanda asked, surprised.

Hagrid's face flushed, "Er, yes."

"Honestly, Rolanda, you were at his sorting, for Merlin's sake," Minerva quipped, giving her friend a stern look.

Rolanda threw up her hands, "All the sortings blur together for me. How do you expect me to remember the year of every student in Hogwarts? It's not like I have the benefit of being in the same house as him, like you, to remember that!"

"'s alrigh'," Hagrid mumbled.

Minerva put a hand on Hagrid's upper arm and said, "Well, I think you'll love Care of Magical Creatures, Hagrid. I'm excited for you to start."

Hagrid grinned down at her, "Me too!" Minerva smiled widely back at him.

Poppy checked her watch at that moment and said, "We should start heading to our next class. It'll take us some time to get to the second floor from here."

The three other witches nodded, and said goodbye to Hagrid. As they started walking back to the castle, Pomona exclaimed, "Oh! I forgot," she grimaced at Poppy hesitantly, "do you think we have time to stop by the library? I need to grab a book, I know exactly which one—"

"We have time," Poppy interjected reassuringly. Pomona gave her a relieved smile.

Once the four friends entered the castle, they made a detour towards the library instead of heading up the staircase. Minerva, Rolanda, and Poppy decided to wait outside the library for Pomona while she ran in for her book.

"How do you think Defense is going to be this year?" Poppy asked conversationally.

Rolanda grimaced, "I heard it's rough."

"Yes, I heard the difficulty increases this year more than any other year," Minerva added.

"It's going to be difficult dueling nonverbally," Poppy agreed.

"Oh, I didn't even think about that!" Rolanda groaned. Their professors in their other classes the past two days had been encouraging them to cast their spells wordlessly, and had warned them that all of their professors would be doing so from now on.

"Well, I think nonverbal magic is most important in dueling, of all subjects, wouldn't you agree?" Minerva remarked.

"I suppose," Rolanda grumbled.

"Excuse me?"

The three witches turned to find a group of first-year Hufflepuffs standing by the display case outside the library, trying to get their attention.

Poppy smiled warmly at them and said, "Hello! Can we help you with something?"

"We've been exploring," the boy in the middle began, "and we know there's a room full of trophies like this. We were wondering if you knew why these were kept separate."

Minerva, Poppy, and Rolanda approached the case. Poppy replied, "I don't know for sure, but I've examined them myself and have found that they were all awarded to Hogwarts students centuries ago who distinguished themselves after graduation."

"So, we'll be learning about them in History of Magic, then?" asked the boy.

"Maybe," Minerva replied with a slight smirk.

"You're sixth-years, aren't you?" the boy asked boldly. "Shouldn't you know?"

Rolanda snorted into her hand and turned away to smother her laughter. Poppy gave the boy a kind, indulgent smile, "Well, ah – what's your name?"

"David Crowley."

"Well, David, many students have a hard time focusing in History of Magic, and hardly any students keep with it after their O.W.L. exam. So, you could potentially learn about these people in a class we would never take, or…," she gave him a slightly guilty smile, "…in one we didn't pay attention to."

The Hufflepuffs exchanged wide-eyed glances at that. David exclaimed, aghast, "But you're a Ravenclaw! I thought Ravenclaws were the best at school."

Rolanda rolled her eyes at the grin that formed on Poppy's face in response to that. Poppy gave Minerva a side-eyed glance and said loftily, "Did you hear that? I'm the best."

The corners of Minerva's lips twitched but she crossed her arms, "I beg to differ, my friend."

"What's got you looking so smug?" Pomona's voice said from a distance. She looked a little red in the face, but she was clutching a book to her chest. She approached them at a normal pace, trying to catch her breath.

"Your housemates have just informed me that Ravenclaws are the best at school," Poppy informed her with a grin.

Pomona groaned, "Oh, don't say that, it'll only go to their heads." She finally reached their group, and patted the nearest first-year girl on the shoulder, "In my opinion, Hufflepuffs are the best. We work the hardest."

"All of the houses have their strengths," Minerva said diplomatically.

"You're only saying that because Gryffindor is the only one without a definitive trait that can be related back to performing well in school," Rolanda quipped.

"And yet I'm top of the class in Transfiguration," she countered, quirking a brow.

"That's just you," Rolanda retorted, grinning. "The rest of your house are dolts."

Minerva shoved her playfully. Rolanda shoved her back harder. Poppy held her hands up and placed them on Minerva and Rolanda's shoulders, "Alright, alright, come on now, let's set a better example for the first-years."

"Yes, Mother," Rolanda replied with a smirk.

Poppy sighed heavily and rolled her eyes, "We should go." She turned to the first-year Hufflepuffs who had been watching the exchange between the older students with some wariness. "I hope we were able to answer your question."

The first-years nodded.

With that, Poppy led the way back down the corridor to the Entrance Hall. More students were leaving the Great Hall now, having finished lunch, and were dispersing throughout the castle, whether on their way to their next class or off to enjoy a free period of their own.

In the Entrance Hall, they were stopped again by a third-year Gryffindor, "Hey, Minerva! Have you seen Rubeus?"

"Hello Gordon! I have, actually. We saw him on the edge of the Forbidden Forest looking at bowtruckles about ten minutes ago," Minerva replied.

"Thanks!" Gordon Wright jogged out of the Entrance Hall with that, presumably to find his friend Hagrid.

"We're never making it to Defense Against the Dark Arts," Poppy laughed as they climbed the stairs.

"Don't hate me, then," Rolanda began with a small smile. Poppy shot her a sharp look. "I want to stop in the loo before we go to class."

Poppy groaned and rolled her eyes, but said nothing. They continued climbing up to the second floor. They continued to see more people they knew as they walked, but simply nodded or waved and continued on their way to their destination. Minerva nearly stopped once they finally made it to the second floor and they encountered seventh-year Gryffindor Prefect Eve York with her boyfriend Jason Kendrick; a sharp look from Poppy kept her interaction to a smile and a wave, which was returned by both older Gryffindors.

Outside the second-floor girls' toilet, a fifth-year Ravenclaw named Aisley Locke was leaning against the wall looking into her compact mirror. Rolanda's eyes widened when she saw the girl and asked her, "Are you in line?"

Aisley looked up at Rolanda in surprise. "What? Oh, no. I'm waiting for someone, you can go."

Rolanda sighed in relief, and the four witches entered the restroom. Pomona approached the sinks and started fixing her hair, which, being naturally curly, had not responded well to her earlier hurried behavior. Minerva looked at her own appearance in the mirror over Pomona's shoulder and made a few adjustments to her hair, reapplying the charm that was holding what would have been a peek-a-boo bang at her temple.

Just as they were about to leave, the door burst open and a fourth-year Ravenclaw girl ran inside, wailing. Poppy jumped into action and stepped into the girl's path, taking her by the shoulders, "Myrtle! Myrtle, what's wrong?"

Myrtle Warren collapsed into the Prefect's arms, sobbing. Minerva instinctively palmed her wand. "They're – they're so mean," Myrtle replied, hiccoughing.

"Who's mean?" Poppy asked soothingly.

"Slytherins," she said hoarsely. Rolanda scowled but kept her mouth shut.

"What did the Slytherins do, Myrtle?" Poppy pressed in a gentle voice.

Myrtle didn't respond immediately, overcome as she was with crying. After sobbing for a few moments into Poppy's shoulder, she moaned, "They – they said I was stupid, and ugly, and fat, and my glasses made me less of a witch – and – and I have no fr-friends – no one likes me—"

"I like you, Myrtle," Poppy interjected, smoothing the girl's hair. "And lots of witches and wizards wear glasses. Sometimes magic isn't the answer. I've read about it; I'm quite interested in Healing. Did you know that?"

Myrtle shook her head.

"Well, I am, and the textbooks say that it is actually more common for wizards and witches to need glasses because magic can only correct small impairments," Poppy informed her. Myrtle sniffed. Poppy took her face in her hands, pulling her away so she could get a better look at it, "I like your glasses."

Myrtle gave her a wobbly smile.

"And as for fat," she raised her eyebrows and looked the girl up and down, "if you're fat, then I must be huge."

Myrtle giggled at that.

Poppy grinned and rubbed her back, "People say things like that usually because they are insecure about themselves. You can't let it get to you."

"Yes, and the next time they say something like that, call them fat and ugly right back to their face," Rolanda encouraged.

Minerva elbowed her, and Poppy shot her a sharp look, "No, we should be better than bullies, right?"

Rolanda sighed, "I suppose."

Poppy turned back to Myrtle and said, "We need to get to class. Are you going to be alright?"

Myrtle nodded, wiping her face on the sleeve of her robes.

Poppy smiled and said, "Good."

Minerva, Poppy, Pomona, and Rolanda each gave Myrtle a comforting smile and pat on the shoulder as they passed her on their way out the door. Directly outside the door, they were confronted with the reason Aisley Locke had been standing there looking in a handheld mirror instead of the one inside the lavatory. Poppy's and Minerva's eyebrows shot up, and Pomona's face turned bright red as they were confronted with Aisley heavily snogging fifth-year Slytherin Alphard Black directly outside the door. Rolanda whistled as they passed the couple. Alphard pulled away from Aisley to wink at Rolanda before Aisley yanked his head back in her direction.

"They could be a little more discreet," Poppy muttered, her own face pink, as they walked away from the couple and towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

"I think we're going to see more of our peers doing things like that this year," Rolanda remarked with a smirk. Poppy glanced at her with a look of distaste. Rolanda shrugged, "Really, I do. Sixth year is the year most of our yearmates are going to turn seventeen, and with pseudo-adulthood among randy teenagers who have the threat of death looming over them comes, well…ask my sister. And Minerva's brother. And their baby."

Poppy's face turned bright red at that.

"Please don't ask their child," Minerva said with sharp eyes and quirking lips. Rolanda grinned at her.

Finally, the quartet of witches made it to the door of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, and a little early at that. Most of the sixth-years taking Defense were lined up against the wall already. Rolanda waved enthusiastically at her boyfriend, Richard, who was further up the line from her. He grinned and waved back. Oliver Brown was standing next to him, and Minerva made eye contact with him, giving him a smile. Oliver smiled back at her. Minerva's stomach flipped giddily in response.

"Stupefy!"

The sixth-years looked around for the source of the voice. Most of them drew their wands.

"Protego! Petrificus Totalus!"

Minerva turned around with her wand raised. The voices were coming from back in the direction she and her friends had just come. Three boys were facing off against two, shouting spells at each other. Minerva grimaced and raced off down the hall to put a stop to it. Poppy followed close behind. As she got closer, Minerva realized that one of the boys was her fourth-year Slytherin cousin, Mason, and he was flanked by his two best friends, Rodger Roads of Slytherin and Lloyd Ravensdale of Ravenclaw. They were fighting two other Slytherins in their year, Tereus Rosier and Antonin Dolohov.

"That's enough!" Minerva shouted. The boys ignored her, shouting more spells at each other. No one had landed a spell, yet. Scowling, Minerva aimed and shouted, "Protego!"

A large shield charm appeared between the two sides of duelists. A few spells were absorbed into the shield, and then the five boys turned to face Minerva with heated expressions on their face.

"That is quite enough!" Poppy snapped. "Lloyd, I expect better from you. Ten points from Ravenclaw." Lloyd opened his mouth in outrage. "And, ten points from each of the four Slytherins."

"That's forty points!" Rosier roared, furious. "And only ten from your house!"

"Well, I see one Ravenclaw and four Slytherins here," a voice on the other side of the confrontation interjected smoothly. Minerva and Poppy looked up and saw one of the new Slytherin Prefects, Tom Riddle, standing beside sixth-year Abraxas Malfoy. Riddle was the one who had spoken.

Rosier and Dolohov turned to their Prefects, opening their mouths to defend themselves. A raised eyebrow from Riddle silenced them. He continued, "There are more important things to concern yourselves with than house points, such as not shaming our house by making a spectacle of yourselves where the entire school can see you." Rosier and Dolohov flushed. Riddle turned to Malfoy casually and asked, "Wouldn't you agree?"

Malfoy, who had been observing the scene, his eyes lingering on Mason and Minerva, said, "Any fractures in Slytherin House should remain in Slytherin House."

Lloyd rounded on Poppy and said, "They were tormenting Myrtle, we had to—"

"—if you see one of your peers being tormented, you should bring the matter to a Prefect or a professor, not take it into your own hands," Poppy interjected sternly. "Dueling is not permitted. It's actually against the law. Did you know that?"

Lloyd's nostrils flared, but he said nothing in his defense. Minerva watched her cousin, who would not look at her. He hadn't said a word since she'd intervened. Minerva tried to approach him, but he turned away sharply and started walking away. Shaking her head, Minerva called after him, "Mason!"

"Leave me alone!" he snapped, not stopping. Minerva pursed her lips, but didn't pursue him.

Friday, 4 September 1942

"Bishop to F4," Miranda McGonagall announced. She watched the black piece that had been called upon to move slide across the board. Once situated, she smugly proclaimed, "Check!" The Black Bishop waved his fist threateningly at the White King.

Miranda looked across the board at her opponent, whose enormous, round, green eyes darted across the scene before them. Tartan the house-elf pulled at one of his large, floppy ears anxiously. His opponent had preoccupied him with defending the other side of his king; this move came as a surprise. Nervously, Tartan announced his move: "King to C1."

The game went on for a little longer, but Miranda ultimately won. Tartan buried his face in his thin-fingered hands. Miranda giggled and reached across the board to pat him on the head, "Oh, it's okay Tartan, I've only just started teaching you!" Miranda slipped out of her chair and stood next to the house-elf's. Tartan stood, coming up about a foot shorter than Miranda.

"Thank you, Miss Miranda, Tartan is very thankful to be taught," Tartan said. Miranda beamed and gave him a one-armed hug. "Tartan must go back to work, now. Dinner soon. Rosie will need help."

"Alright, see you later, Tartan!" With that, Tartan popped away to the kitchen, leaving Miranda alone.

Miranda sighed. She had been living like this for days that already felt like more than a week, with McGonagall Manor quiet and usually only occupied by the two house-elves and one or two of the adults. Her uncle, Jon, was there the most during the day because he was the only one who worked from home. He had become a sort of self-employed business man, who invested his money in wizarding businesses and even owned a handful of his own. He would visit his investments regularly, but mostly he managed them through correspondence. In addition, for the last six years he had held a seat on the Hogwarts Board of Governors, which had monthly meetings. When Miranda's grandparents returned from work, it would typically be about the time for Jon to go to Resistance headquarters, where he would meet with his brother, wife, and sister-in-law once they finished work. The four of them would return to the manor typically at the same time.

It was currently a Resistance meeting time, so Charles and Gliona were somewhere around the manor or the grounds. Miranda couldn't fathom how they had lived happily here by themselves before their sons moved back in with their families. The manor felt too big for only the three of them. Miranda missed her old house, where she had shared a bedroom with Minerva. She knew, though, that she would never return to that house. She could never.

When Miranda was bored, she took to wandering around the manor, exploring the rooms and side corridors, which she began to do now that Tartan had left her alone. In her exploration she had noticed that there seemed to be different phases of construction. Generations of her ancestors before her evidently built new bedrooms and corridors, and she could tell the difference between the periods of architecture now that she'd stared at it long enough. She had found secret passageways connecting rooms, and one bedroom that had a trapdoor with a ladder leading down to a basement room that Miranda was too afraid to explore.

Today, though, she decided to go take a well-traveled route to the library from the drawing room, where she had been playing chess with Tartan. She passed statues of mythological scenes from Greek and Roman stories, of gods and goddesses and of humans – from Roman emperors to McGonagall ancestors – depicted as gods; she passed paintings of scenes from Scottish lore, and portraits of Miranda's ancestors. There were vases on pedestals, some which looked distinctly Greek and some that Miranda wasn't sure of the origin. There were swords and shields hanging on the walls, and suits of armor standing intermittently down the halls. Finally, she reached the double doors of the library, over which hung an elaborate McGonagall Coat of Arms that Miranda's grandfather Charles now used as his Arms.

Miranda opened the library doors and smiled to find her grandmother sitting in one of the wing-backed chairs, reading. Gliona looked up when Miranda entered, "Hello, Miranda! What have you been up to today?"

"Not a lot. I read a bit in my room, and I played two games of chess with Tartan."

"Sounds like a relaxing day. Were you looking for me?"

"I came to browse the books, I've finished mine."

"I suppose your old Gran isn't more interesting than a good book," Gliona pouted teasingly.

Miranda laughed, "Well, if you want to be interesting, you could start my education early and teach me how to brew a potion or two."

Gliona gave her a stern look, "Miranda McGonagall, I will not be emotionally blackmailed into encouraging you to use magic before school age."

"It's not really magic, though, isn't it? I don't need a wand, it's only a passive form of magic! I won't be casting any spells!"

Gliona's lips were pursed, but a smile twitched at the edges, "Have you asked your parents?"

"My parents are hardly ever here," Miranda stated, her expression saddening deliberately. She let her eyes fall to the floor, and all of her mischievous excitement slipped off her face. The corners of her mouth dipped down.

Almost immediately, Gliona softened, "Oh Miranda…"

Miranda's eyes watered, but she tried to hide it. Although she started this line of conversation with the hope of making Gliona feel sorry for her, and teach her Potions, she had tapped into something real to achieve this goal. Showing real emotion made her feel vulnerable, and as the youngest child in her family, she hated feeling that way because she always felt like she needed to prove that she was mature enough to be treated on the same level as her siblings and cousin. She knew it was paradoxical, but in her mind as long as she was always in control of the emotions that she used to get her way, she was still strong and worthy of respect.

Gliona, however, did not make it to the age of seventy-two – as a mother of two sons, no less – without knowing when a child was trying to hide their tears. She stood from her chair, setting her book down, and came to wrap her arms around Miranda. As mature as Miranda thought she was, she was still only ten, and she broke down in her grandmother's arms. Gliona held her tightly and kissed the top of her head.

"I'm so afraid," Miranda sobbed.

"My dear Miranda," Gliona murmured, rubbing soothing circles on her granddaughter's back, "I'm so sorry that you have to worry about all of this."

Miranda sniffled, "And I…I feel so alone. Hardly anyone is ever here."

Gliona frowned and tried to think of a solution. "We should all spend more quality time together when we're all here. We could play games, like Exploding Snap or non-magical card games, or chess tournaments, or we could simply sit around and talk to each other."

"…I'd like that," Miranda whispered.

"I can't believe we haven't done this yet. Why haven't you said something?"

"I wanted to be strong…"

"Miranda," Gliona sighed. "It's okay to be a child. No one is asking you to be strong for us. It's our job to be strong for you."

"I just want…I just thought that maybe if I was more mature, you would talk to me about grown-up things. Or teach me magic…like Potions."

Gliona shook her head and let out a short, amused laugh, "You're a marvel, Miranda. Truly." With one last tight squeeze, she released her granddaughter and held her at arm's length. "I will consider teaching you Potions."

Miranda beamed, "Really?!"

"I said consider!"

"That's enough!" Any trace of her sadness had evaporated at the prospect of finally learning some magic. Gliona's heart melted at the sight. What was the harm, really? She would be supervising, and Miranda was right that it did not require a wand, not really. Gliona could light any fires, and they would not be doing anything so advanced that a wand movement was required. If she could bring this sad, lonely little girl any joy during this war, why shouldn't she? She was mostly convinced, but she did not want to bend to her granddaughter's will so easily; it would only encourage her to ask for more.

Miranda flounced down onto a couch, "Gran, what was Hogwarts like when you were a student?"

Gliona smiled and came to sit next to Miranda, "Well, you know that I went to Hogwarts in the 1800's."

"Because you're old as dirt," Miranda teased.

Gliona put her arm around Miranda's small shoulders, "Precisely. I don't think that any of my professors are still there – well, except for Binns, although he was alive when I was a student." Gliona laughed.

"I couldn't believe it when Mitchell wrote about him showing up to class one day as a ghost!" Miranda said breathlessly.

Shaking her head, Gliona smirked, "It seems to me the man doesn't know he's dead."

"Well Minerva said he now enters through the blackboard, so doesn't that mean he does know?"

"Hmm, I forgot about that detail. I suppose so, then. Oh! That reminds me, Minerva has written about Professor Dare, hasn't she? Teaching Charms?" Gliona asked. Miranda nodded. "That's probably the same Professor Dare that I had. She must be getting on, though. She wasn't young when she taught me. I can't imagine her staying on much longer."

"What about…your friends? Were you in any clubs? What did you do for fun? Did you play Quidditch?" Miranda's questions came out in an excited rush.

Gliona laughed, "I did not play Quidditch, but I was in the Gardening Club. I learned a lot in it that I use on our gardens here at the manor. I was best friends with two boys, which was quite scandalous at the time. It wasn't that I didn't get along with girls, I did, but I simply had such a great bond with those two strange Ravenclaw boys."

"But you were a Gryffindor, right?"

"Yes, I was. I had friends in Gryffindor, I was friendly with all of the girls in my dorm, but there were four of them and they paired up, so I was the odd girl out. They always included me, though, and I sat with them for meals."

"So was one of those boys Granda?" Miranda asked mischievously.

"Yes, your Granda and I have been friends for a very long time," Gliona replied, smiling fondly. "But we did the thing properly. He asked my parents' permission to court me before we dated." She leaned forward conspiratorially, "People did whisper, though. Being friends with two boys wasn't very good for my reputation."

The pair of them talked until dinner. Gliona filled Miranda's head with stories of Hogwarts: the classes, the activities, the curiosities of the castle. Much of this information Miranda had heard before, but she never tired of hearing about it. Going to Hogwarts was a dream. The stories ended a little before seven, when dinner was scheduled to be served, and they walked down to the dining room together to meet the rest of their family.

When they walked in, Miranda beamed at the sight of her parents standing by the table. They turned to look at who entered, and smiled at their youngest child. Miranda bounced over and hugged her father tightly around the waist. William McGonagall placed a hand on her head, and Halina gently touched Miranda's back. As the hug grew longer than expected, Miranda's parents looked questioningly up at Gliona, who stood with her arms crossed, smiling in the doorway. Gliona walked over and put a hand on her son's shoulder, "We're going to be spending more quality time together as a family."

William and Halina's heads snapped back down to Miranda, with looks of mixed concern and guilt on their faces. William extracted himself from his daughter's grasp and knelt down to meet her at eye level. His face fell to see her wiping her face. "Oh, my bonnie, wee lass, I'm so sorry." He held her by the elbows and tried to catch her eye. Miranda wouldn't look up, so he had to tilt his head down. Her lips quivered when their eyes met. William sighed sadly and brought her back to his chest. Halina knelt and hugged Miranda from behind.

Moments later, William pulled away and smiled at Miranda. "Do you know how to play Exploding Snap?" Miranda shook her head. "Well then, I'll have to teach you! We'll play after dinner. How does that sound?" Miranda smiled and nodded quickly, too upset to speak. William placed a kiss on her forehead. Miranda turned to her mother, and Halina hugged her from the front.

"We love you so much, Miranda," Halina murmured.

"I know," Miranda whispered coarsely. "I love you too."

William stood and pulled out the chair Miranda had been sitting in ever since their number decreased from ten to seven. Miranda smiled and, wiping her face with her sleeve, sat down in the chair. William pushed her in, and Halina moved around the table to sit across from Miranda. William took his seat next to his wife, and Gliona sat next to her son.

Voices from the hall announced the presence of the rest of their family currently living in the manor. "…and so, based on that, Flamel is going to be sending a team into Paris." Miranda perked up at the sound of Diana's voice, realizing her aunt was talking about the war.

"Will you be going?" the voice of Miranda's grandfather, Charles, reached the girl's ears.

"So, Mum, what did Tartan and Rosie cook for us tonight?" William asked loudly.

Gliona raised her eyebrows at her son, an amused smile quirking at her pursed lips. "Grilled cod, roasted carrots, and mashed potatoes."

The voices outside the dining room had quieted after William's loud question. Charles, Jon, and Diana entered together, no longer speaking. Miranda scowled. She knew they purposely avoided talking about the war in front of her. She wanted to know what was going on; she wanted to know what her family was doing. They all, however, insisted on protecting her from the knowledge of whatever it was they were doing when they Flooed to France. As such, dinner conversation revolved around work and leisure, as if the war didn't exist at all. Halina was teaching classes on singing and piano at the Academy, and William was working on an exciting new project in the Department of Mysteries about which he of course could share nothing. Diana felt she was getting closer to closing a case at work as an Auror, while Jon spent his day responding to letters and reviewing budgets. Charles received a new case in the Beast Division about a loose dragon hiding out near a Highland village, and Gliona had an office party in the Improper Use of Magic Office since it was the first Friday after summer ended; having the majority of the people who would be improperly using magic confined at Hogwarts was always a reason for them to celebrate. Miranda pushed her carrots around her plate glumly.

"So, after dinner, William is going to teach Miranda how to play Exploding Snap. I thought that we should all enjoy our after-dinner beverages together in the drawing room and watch them, and spend time as a family," Gliona announced during a lull in conversation when everyone felt like they had shared enough about their days.

Jon and Diana exchanged surprised looks. Charles's eyes darted between his wife, his son William, and his granddaughter. Gliona met his gaze sternly, and he smiled, "I think that's a great idea."

After dinner the family made their way together to the drawing room, where Tartan and Rosie appeared to ask for beverage orders. Charles, Gliona, William, and Diana ordered brandy; Halina asked for chamomile tea; Jon and Miranda didn't want anything. The family spent the rest of the evening playing Exploding Snap, talking, and laughing. William taught Miranda how to set up the cards, and the rest of the family rooted her on, giving her advice. Miranda was grinning, and bouncing on her feet between turns. The longer the game went on without exploding, the faster she bounced, revealing her anxiousness. Miranda squealed loudly the first time the cards exploded. Gliona sat in an armchair next to her husband, presiding over it all with a proud, fond smile on her face. She loved these people. This was the family she made with the man she loved. The circumstances around why her sons returned home may not be ideal, but she couldn't deny that having them around again filled her with joy.

Saturday, 5 September 1942

Early the next morning, the family gathered again for breakfast, which was a much quieter affair. Most of the adults relied on caffeine to make them more pleasant in the morning. It was Saturday, though; if their children at Hogwarts kept with their habits from the previous years, they should have sent letters by owl last night that would arrive this morning. The expectation of that alone made Miranda wide-awake this Saturday morning. She eagerly looked around at her family members, barely eating. In contrast, the adults spoke quietly to their seat neighbors, mostly focused on their food and tea or coffee.

Finally, Rosie the house-elf popped in with a stack of letters in her hand. Miranda eagerly held her hand out, and Rosie brought her a letter with a smile. "Thank you, Rosie!" Rosie passed another two letters to William and Halina, and a fourth to Jon and Diana before popping away again.

Halina regarded her daughter with a wry smile, "You aren't going to finish eating until we've read these, are you?"

Smiling faux-innocently, Miranda replied, "I'm too excited to have an appetite!"

Shaking her head, Halina turned to the rest of the table, "Shall we begin?"

Charles made a sweeping gesture towards her, "Go ahead, you can start."

Glancing at her husband, Halina clarified, "I'll read Minerva's, and you Michael's?" William nodded. Halina opened Minerva's letter and cleared her throat, "My dear family,

"It hasn't yet been a week, so not much has happened, but there is so much that I am looking forward to already. The schedule for Prefect rounds for the autumn term has been set, and I'll be patrolling Monday nights and two Saturdays. I can't complain. I've also had the opportunity to observe how David MacVanish fares as a Prefect, and I'd say he was a good choice on Dumbledore and Dippet's part. I'm also finally starting to learn more about Slughorn's Golden Boy, Tom Riddle. He has a way with words – he seems to know exactly what to say at precisely the right moment. No wonder Slughorn loves him. That man lives for a good ego stroking.

"Classes have barely started. With my O.W.L. results, I'm taking Charms, Defense, Potions, Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, and – of course – Transfiguration. This year my spellcasting courses are all focusing on wordless magic, which is very exciting. I've tried to practice a little in the past by myself, and aside from the Summoning Charm I still have to whisper a little. I'm excited to start being instructed in the best techniques. And Transfiguration! I can barely contain myself! This year we're learning about human Transfiguration! I always stop myself from accosting Dumbledore with queries into the Animagus transformation, but I found an article he wrote on it and I know he can teach it even though he's not one himself. I may just have to go ahead and ask, though, because I think my friends are tiring of hearing me go on about it.

"I'm wondering if I should have taken Healing instead of one of my other electives. Sure, I find Arithmancy and Ancient Runes to be interesting subjects, but isn't Healing more practical right now? I suppose I need Arithmancy if I want a future in research, but I don't really need Ancient Runes. Poppy and Pomona had their first classes in it this week and Poppy is over the moon about what she's learning. I suppose I didn't really consider it, since it's only a N.E.W.T.-level course and I have no background with it. I don't think there's anything that I can do about it, though, so I know there's no use in dwelling on it. I'm simply going to have to learn to be happy for Poppy when she talks about how wonderful the class is.

"I have my first Quidditch practice as well as tryouts scheduled with Plumpton. I'm excited to start playing again, and flying with my team. There's a fourth-year girl who's been badgering me about tryouts. I don't know if I want her to be good or not. I hope she'll calm down if she actually earns a spot on the team. I only need a Chaser. I've been thinking, though, about perhaps trying out some alternates, especially since one of our Beaters is a seventh year. It might be good practice for a new face to practice with Oliver and find a rhythm with him before we throw them into a live game next year. I'm sort of wishing I had done that with my Chasers. I'll talk to Prewett and Oliver and see what they think.

"I hope everyone is doing well. I miss you all already – yes, even you, Uncle Jon. I am happy to be back with my friends, though. I look forward to telling you about all the things we're excited for this year!

"Much love, Minerva." Halina looked up to see Jon holding his hands up mock-defensively and grinning. Everyone had smiles on their faces.

Jon read Mason's letter next, "Dear family,

"Not much has happened so far, but I felt obligated to write something to you. I'm not doing much in my classes yet. I think fourth year is going to be a sort of lull year, the calm before the storm of O.W.L.'s year. Ancient Runes is looking to be really interesting, though, so I'm excited for that. We're going to be delving even more into doing magic with them this year. I think being good at Charms is going to really help me in this class.

"No surprise, the new Slytherin Prefects are Sophia Moss and Tom Riddle. Slughorn loves them, especially Riddle. He's good at keeping the peace in Slytherin between Malfoy's gang and those of us who don't care as much about blood purity. I can't help but notice, though, how much time he spends at Malfoy's side. I respect his position as a mediator, but I think he's made his true allegiance clear and obviously I find it distasteful. It's surprising, though, because although no one ever talks about it, not even Malfoy's crew, I'm quite certain that Riddle isn't pureblooded. I don't understand why he would align himself with them at the end of the day. It makes me wonder about him. Ah, well. Perhaps he's another Slughorn type. He sees more advantage in being on their good side than in hanging around people like Rodger and me. I can't blame him, really, because miraculously, those blood purity fanatics actually seem to listen to him and value his opinion. I've even seen Malfoy listening intently to him speak on occasion. Anyway, I don't have much to say about Sophia other than she's also, interestingly, a half-blood. I could be being idealistic in thinking that Slughorn and Dippet deliberately chose two half-bloods as Prefects to take a stance against the blood purity nonsense, but honestly, I think Slughorn mostly values her for her dad's position in the international department at the Ministry. I think he's involved with importation of plants, so, you know, Potions ingredients?

"Minerva's been keeping an annoyingly close eye on Rosier and Dolohov on my behalf. Can one of you tell her to let up? It's kind of emasculating. Rodger and I can handle them, but their taunts in the dorm about my Gryffindor watchdog are starting to really irritate me. I'd rather it just be us against them. We're not going to start dueling in the hallways. Honestly, if Slytherins ever resort to dueling to solve their problems, it's within the privacy of our common room, where she can't stop them. We don't like to make a spectacle of ourselves. This is a very rare occurrence, though, don't worry. I've never dueled anyone.

"Well, that's all for me. Hopefully I'll have something more interesting to talk about next week.

"Sincerely, Mason.

"P.S.: I debated whether or not I should add this to the letter I wrote this morning, but just in case Minerva included what happened today in her letter, I didn't want you to think I was deliberately, blatantly lying. I did end up in a duel today, but it was because Lloyd started it. Rosier and Dolohov were tormenting a girl in his house, and he had words with them over it that came to dueling. Rodger and I jumped in to help him, but I promise – this isn't something I'm seeking out, or even want to be participating in. Like I said, it's not the Slytherin way."

Diana groaned, and Jon looked over at her, "Do Slytherins really duel each other in the common room?"

"It happened once while I was a student. That's the thing about Slytherin house, though. We're prideful and like to present a united front against the judgement of the rest of the houses, but in my experience there's always that division between the traditionalists and the progressives. I think the fact that there is a Malfoy and a McGonagall in Slytherin at the same time is helping things become a little more intense, though. Malfoy is probably encouraging Rosier and Dolohov to torment those boys."

"What do you think of this Riddle boy?" Charles asked.

Diana shook her head, "I don't think he's a problem. Typical ladder-climbing behavior. I saw it when I was a student. Sometimes students who aren't purebloods align themselves with those who are and care about such things because they somehow see them as a sort of elite group. I suppose that's the goal with maintaining the notion of the importance of blood purity."

"That makes sense, I suppose," Halina remarked.

"Honestly, I hope our children marry people who aren't purebloods. I'm starting to feel like we're a little hypocritical," William commented, half-joking.

"Well, Isabella's a pureblood, so that hopefully means that Mitchell is off the table for that goal," Halina returned, sighing.

William shrugged, "There's still four left." As he spoke, he opened Michael's letter to the family. It contained much of the same: he talked about classes, what he was excited about, and his friends. Since he was a third year, he would be going to Hogsmeade for the first time in a few weeks. He was also at an age where he didn't really care who was Prefect, so he didn't mention the new Hufflepuff Prefects. He mentioned being excited about what he expected to learn about in Potions and in Charms classes. He included a few photographs he'd taken with the camera he'd been given last Christmas that the adults passed around.

Miranda quickly grew bored of listening to the contents of Michael's letter and to the adults talking about his photos – she was anxious to read the letter that Minerva wrote just for her. To make things interesting for Miranda, Minerva always included more details in her personal letters to her little sister than she included in those intended to be heard by the whole family at breakfast. She had to be excused from the table, though, to read a letter privately. Her excitement redirected, Miranda suddenly found herself starving, and her breakfast intensely appetizing.

Since Miranda had barely touched her food until now, her sudden increased speed was immediately noticeable by everyone at the table. Halina laughed and lightly admonished her daughter, "Slow down, you'll make yourself ill." Miranda smiled sheepishly with a mouthful of scrambled eggs. William snorted at the sight.

With the letters meant for the table all read, the whole family returned to their meals. Miranda eventually finished, at a slower pace, and her parents excused her from the table. The adults remained seated, finishing their caffeinated beverages and the last scraps of their meals. The ten-year-old girl retreated to the drawing room to read Minerva's letter.

Dear Miranda,

I imagine at this point you've already heard the contents of the letter I wrote for the family and know how excited I am about what I'm learning this year. I know I complained about Ancient Runes being worthless compared to Healing – and I suppose it's true that Healing has more immediate practical value at the moment – but Ancient Runes is truly a fascinating subject. It's useful in casting protection spells, and other long-term charms, curses, and wards. Which means it's also extremely useful in learning how to break such powerful spells. I encourage you to consider it for your third-year studies. But we can talk about that when you get there. I'm not sure exactly what subjects you'd like best, still, since you're still excited about and seem interested in everything. Why don't you write to me what you're most interested to read about right now and I'll go more in depth about what I'm learning in that class in my next letter?

Rolanda and Richard are, reliably, still together and very happy. I think they really might get married, which I find very sweet. Richard's good for her. I think she'd be more like Aunt Sylvia without him. Has Mum complained about her recently? Has that Claude fellow who works at W.A.D.A. made any more trouble trying to win her back? Anyway, Rolanda has also booked the Quidditch pitch for practice, and she's also thinking about doing tryouts for an alternate Seeker, since she's losing Lucretia Black at the end of the year. Honestly, now that I'm thinking about Black, I'm more convinced that I should tryout an alternate Beater. She and Prewett seem closer than ever this year, and if Prewett has a hard time doing his job, Beating Bludgers at his Seeker girlfriend, I might have to replace him. I hope it doesn't come to that. He's a good Beater. I'll have a chat with him to check in on his commitment to the team. He may be thinking, as a seventh year, that there are things more important than winning a Quidditch match, but make no mistake – until you graduate Hogwarts, there is little that is more important than winning a House Quidditch match. I love Rolanda, but I need to crush her at Quidditch simply because Slytherin is historically our biggest rival.

Pomona and Poppy are well. Taking Healing is a dream come true for Poppy. She's had this vision of being a Healer for a while now, and I think she hoped that she and Pomona could go through the Healer Academy together like they've done everything together so far. Pomona hasn't taken to Healing quite like Poppy, though. She's still obsessed with her plants. She's good at the subject, yes, but she doesn't love it like she loves Herbology. I think Poppy is finally starting to realize that she and Pomona aren't going to be on the same life path forever simply because they've been friends since they learned to walk and talk. It's good for her to realize this now. I'm confident that whatever happens to us, wherever we go in our careers, we'll still be close. I'm glad that Pomona kept up with Arithmancy and dropped Care of Magical Creatures for Healing. She almost did the opposite, because she loved learning about magical creatures, but Rolanda and I were able to convince her to think about what was best for her and her potential future researching Herbology, instead of what was best for Poppy's plan. Poppy means well, and we love her to death, but it's hard to change her mind about something when she decides she's right. It's good to be flexible. I think she's learning how to be, though.

As for me…I don't want the family to know, yet, but Oliver Brown asked me on a date, and I accepted. We're having a picnic by the lake tomorrow – which I suppose is your today, now that you're reading this – and truthfully I'm a little nervous. I don't know if you remember, but I dated him when we were third-years. Now we're sixth-years, I'm Quidditch Captain and he's one of my Beaters. Part of why we were able to stay friends was because we were so young when we dated that there weren't a lot of emotions involved. I fancy him quite a bit, though, and he's fun to be around. I think it's good that he stops me from being so serious all the time. I feel lighter around him. Hopefully, these will remain positive things. I don't want to ruin our friendship. He's very good-looking, too; he's definitely not the same thirteen-year-old boy I dated three years ago. I'll spare you further details.

I hope you're not too miserable in that big manor by yourself. Don't forget to appreciate the time you get to spend with our family, though. You have a wonderful opportunity to hear stories from our grandparents. They're interesting people, you know. Granda has told me many stories about his sister Minerva, my namesake, and I feel like I know her even though she died before even our father was born. And Gran has some funny stories about growing up the only daughter in a very masculine family, being the baby of the family with two brothers who were so much older than her. Her brothers sound quite interesting, but we knew that from clan gatherings! Truly, though, if anyone knows what it's like to be the youngest surrounded by adults, it's Gran. Her brothers were teenagers when she was born, after all. Cherish the moment, Miranda. That's my advice. I wish I listened to Dad more when he talked about our family history. You know he loves talking about it – you should ask him to tell you his favorite stories sometime.

That's all for me. Write back soon!

Much love,

- Minnie

Miranda smiled to see how Minerva had crossed out "Minerva" and written "Minnie" instead. Fondness for her sister nearly pulled her out of the thoughtfulness the rest of the letter had sent her into, but not quite. Her mind lingered on Minerva's advice. She had been giddy reading about Oliver, but it was Minerva's final message that left her contemplative. She hadn't realized that Gliona might understand how she felt. Miranda thought it was tough having siblings who were three, seven, and ten years older than her, but she couldn't imagine having two brothers who were already teenagers when she was born. They wouldn't have anything in common. Miranda valued Minerva's letters, how Minerva treated her like a friend in them. She knew that Minerva didn't need to be telling her ten-year-old sister about her new potential boyfriend. Minerva's message also brought to mind, again, exactly what she feared about the war the most: that she may lose a family member forever. Miranda swallowed hard. Minerva was right. She would miss these people when she finally made it to Hogwarts, and would still worry about them. If she lost one of them, she would regret wishing away this time. She shook her head, her eyes feeling warm. Minerva was so smart. Miranda felt lucky to have such a good big sister.

Standing up and patting her face to try to shake away the wetness growing in her eyes, Miranda left the drawing room to return to the dining room. Before she entered, she remembered to quickly stuff Minerva's letter back into its envelope, since Minerva said she didn't want the family to know about Oliver yet. The letter put away, she stepped inside and simply observed her family laughing and talking together. Part of her wanted to say something; part of her wanted to hug one of them, any one of them. She wanted to spend more time with them. Miranda settled on walking to the table and returning to her seat. Six heads turned when she sat down, and she smiled around at them.

William spoke, "Did Minerva have anything interesting to say?"

"She talked more about her friends and Quidditch," Miranda replied. She paused, and then continued, "She gave me some good advice." She stopped there, hesitant about sharing how she was feeling now.

"Oh? About what?" her father asked, eyebrows raised.

When Miranda did not respond immediately, Halina frowned and asked, "Are you alright, darling?"

Miranda nodded quickly, and finally responded, slowly, "She…helped me realize that I should appreciate this time I have with you all more. That I'll miss it when it's gone." The adults looked around at each other, faint smiles appearing on their faces. Miranda looked up from her lap and at her father, "Dad, what's your favorite story you've learned from our family history?"

William McGonagall's smile widened, and he began the story of Wilyam McGonagall, a fifteenth-century ancestor who was the first person in their direct line to own McGonagall Manor since the distant ancestor who built it.