Sleuthing and Sympathy

Monday, 15 February 1943

Minerva leaned back in her chair, surveying the list she and her friends had just made. She, Rolanda, Poppy, and Pomona were seated at a table in the library after their classes. Typically, they'd use this time to work on their schoolwork. In light of the attack on Eve and James, though, they felt compelled to devote it to them.

"So, this is it," Poppy said heavily. Her elbows were resting on the table, and her fingers were buried in her dark hair. "This is everything we know."

Rolanda picked up the list and scanned it. "'The attacker claims to be motivated by blood purity,'" she read. She scoffed and tossed the parchment back on the table, "'Claims.' We've even put that down as a maybe. We know nothing."

"We know some things," Pomona insisted. "I think Minerva being there the night Gordon Wright was attacked provided us with some very helpful information."

Minerva gave her a half-smile and shrugged, "Maybe."

"Well, it's unlikely it was any of the Prefects patrolling that night," Poppy allowed. "They were all patrolling with a partner, or, as in Henry, Lois, and Gene's case, with two partners."

"I'm not even sure that disqualifies the Prefects," Rolanda remarked dubiously. "How do we know the attacks are only being done by one person?"

This quieted the witches. They looked at their hands as they pondered that. Eventually, Pomona shook her head and murmured defeatedly, "We don't."

"Honestly," Minerva grimaced, "the fact that whoever did this has managed to do something unrecognizable to Healers, mediwitches, and our professors…may suggest that we are dealing with more than one person."

Poppy shook her head, "Let's move on from that right now. We also know for a fact, because you saw them yourself, that Rubeus Hagrid, Lyall Lupin, and Professor Slughorn were out after curfew that night."

"I don't think 'out after curfew' is exactly the right wording for a professor," Rolanda said a little defensively, crossing her arms.

"No, even though it seemed he wasn't on patrol that night, professors of course can go where they please," Minerva murmured thoughtfully. "However, I read something in Dumbledore and Merrythought's faces when I said we saw him. They looked at each other, like…. like they thought this was significant. And Dippet gave them a not-so-pleased look for that. Dippet loves Slughorn."

"You don't think Dumbledore and Merrythought think it's him, do you?" Pomona asked with wide eyes.

"It is not Slughorn," Rolanda scoffed.

"Why, because he's helped you so much?" Minerva asked sharply. "If Dumbledore –"

"Just because your favorite professor might think something doesn't make it true," Rolanda snapped. "In any case, for all that he's a Slytherin, Slughorn has all the subtlety of a Bludger in an apothecary, at least physically. The victims were attacked with their backs turned. They would have certainly heard him coming if it was him."

"Minerva brought up how strange that was," Poppy remarked softly, looking pensive. "Maybe they all had their backs turned because they trusted their attacker?"

Rolanda's nostrils flared, but she did not respond.

"I think we should talk to Hagrid and Lupin," Pomona said. "Even if it wasn't either of them, maybe they saw something useful?"

"I think that's a good idea," Rolanda replied quickly. "Let's go find them."

"What? Now?" Poppy asked.

"Yes, now, when else? We're so bloody busy all the time," Rolanda quipped, standing. "Come on!"

"Well, this is a good place to start looking for Lyall, at least," Poppy said, folding up their piece of parchment to put in her pocket and standing too. "He's here if he's not interrogating a ghost somewhere."

Minerva's eyebrows pinched and her eyes darted over to Poppy, "Excuse me, he does what?"

Poppy gave her a half-smile and said, "Ghosts are his research interest. He's particularly fascinated with Peeves, but, well, you can't exactly interrogate Peeves."

Rolanda snorted and muttered, "Bloody Ravenclaws."

The four witches got up from the table and split up to search the library for Lyall Lupin. Minerva found the fifth-year hunched over a book, furiously scribbling on a piece of parchment at the desk closest to the Restricted Section, partially concealed by bookshelves. She watched him for a few seconds before deducing he wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon, and rushed to find her friends so they could talk to him together. Once she had her friends corralled, the four of them moved together quickly back towards where Minerva had found him.

Poppy placed a staying hand on Minerva's shoulder as she started to move ahead of her friends to approach Lyall. Minerva looked back at the Ravenclaw, who gave her a small smile that seemed to suggest, "Let me handle this," and walked ahead of her. Poppy led the way over to Lyall's table, and her friends approached at a slower pace so as not to overwhelm him.

"Hello, Lyall," Poppy said in greeting. Lyall's head jerked up in surprise, and his quill scratched across the parchment. He cursed and set aside the quill, surveying the damage to his work. As he raised his wand to fix the mistake, Poppy said quickly, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's alright, I fixed it," he said, looking up at her again.

"OWL preparations?" she asked conversationally.

He gave her a lopsided grin, and his shoulders shook once with amusement, "No. It's a personal project, actually."

Poppy tilted her head to get a look at what was on the page of the book he had been referencing. She raised her eyebrows and asked, "Boggarts? I thought your interests were in ghosts?"

"Boggarts are actually considered spirits! And, what I find particularly fascinating is that I've discovered that Peeves is closer to a Boggart than a ghost in nature," he said eagerly, his face alight.

Poppy looked at him sharply with raised brows, "Really? I had no idea."

Minerva twitched impatiently as she watched this exchange. She was eager to get to the real reason for finding Lyall. Rolanda gripped her upper arm, urging patience. Minerva's instinct to approach the situation like a battering ram was not what was needed here.

The movement between Minerva and Rolanda, though, caught Lyall's attention, and his eyes roved over Poppy's hovering friends. He raised his eyebrows and turned back to his fellow Ravenclaw, "Was there something I could help you with, Poppy?"

Rolanda released Minerva's arm, and the two of them, along with Pomona, approached the table. Poppy gave Lyall a tight, awkward smile, and said, "Well, we were hoping we could ask you about the night Gordon Wright was attacked."

Lyall made eye contact with Minerva, who bit her tongue to prevent herself from jumping into the questions she wanted to ask. He turned back to Poppy and said, "Merrythought already asked me a load of questions. Clearly, I didn't have anything of importance to say because no one's been caught and there's been another attack since then."

Poppy sat in the chair across from him and folded her hands on the table. She leant forward earnestly and said, "You understand what it's like to have a restless mind, Lyall. We can't bear it anymore. Maybe you're right. Maybe we'll glean nothing from what you have to say. Maybe we're wasting our time. But we need to do something, and if we walk away with this stone unturned…it'll itch at us. You understand that, don't you?"

Lyall snorted, his lips curling in spite of himself in amusement. He shook his head in the direction of his parchment and book, and sighed. He looked back up at Poppy with a rueful smile and said, "I think having friends outside of Ravenclaw has given you delusions of grandeur, Poppy."

Poppy laughed softly and gave him a small half-smile, "I wouldn't trade the experience for the world."

Lyall looked back around at the three other witches standing around their table and sighed again. He nodded at Poppy, "Alright. I'll answer your questions."

Minerva, Rolanda, and Pomona eagerly took seats at Lyall's table. Lyall and Poppy shared an amused grin as he turned directly to face Minerva expectantly. Rolanda snorted behind her hand as Minerva plowed ahead, undeterred by the body language of the people around her, "Did you see anyone else that night?"

"Aside from you and Gloria Scott, I saw Peeves. I had been following him through the dungeons. I didn't see anyone else, but he didn't go near the Slytherin common room –"

"How do you know where the Slytherin common room is?" Rolanda interjected with a furrowed brow.

Lyall rolled his eyes, "I spend enough time in the dungeons to have noticed where the Slytherins come and go from." He turned back to Minerva and said, "Anyway, I was just coming from the kitchen when you saw me, where, obviously, I also saw the house-elves. But that's it."

"You didn't see anyone else from the basement to the entrance of Ravenclaw tower?" Poppy asked, frowning.

Lyall shook his head, "I told you, I don't have any useful information."

Eyeing his book, Pomona commented, "One avenue we haven't explored is that a spirit could be behind this. What do you think about that?"

Lyall raised his eyebrows, looking at her consideringly, "I'm not sure. It's possible. The wizarding world has had a hard time understanding spirits throughout history, and it's possible that they could be capable of this thing that no one seems to have seen before. But, I say that only because we know so little about spirits. That's like saying the creatures of the Forbidden Forest could be providing aid to Grindelwald just because we have next to no communication with them."

Rolanda snorted. Pomona sighed in disappointment. Lyall looked around at the four witches, and then said, "I do think it's something inhuman, though. I don't think our magic did this."

"Why?" Poppy asked, frowning.

"I visited Wright in the Hospital Wing," he shifted uncomfortably, directing his eyes down at his book. "That could've been me, so…I felt compelled to see. I haven't studied healing magic, so truthfully, I have nothing close to an expert opinion on this, but that was my instinct. I've –" he glanced towards the Restricted Section, "I've read some of the books in there. I've read about Dark Magic. What I saw in Wright was not like anything I've read about."

"The closest thing I was able to find was Joseph Berber's research into what he called 'Medusa Spells,' which he was never fully successful with in the way he wanted," Minerva said. Lyall turned to her with interest. "Perhaps someone adapted that research."

Lyall grimaced, "I don't know anything about that, but if that's true, whoever did this would need a lot of practice and research. There would be other victims who have different symptoms. And, I would wager to guess that they would have had to have been practicing for at least months before Crowley was attacked. To do that without getting caught, they'd have to have been of-age this summer, at least." He shook his head, "No, I don't think that avenue is likely, unless you can find evidence elsewhere that this Berber achieved something like what we're seeing here."

Minerva frowned, "You're probably right about that, but that still doesn't mean a human couldn't have done this. Arithmancers postulate that there are infinite possibilities of what magic can truly do simply because there are an infinite number of magical individuals."

"And 'magical individuals' includes magical beasts and beings," Lyall reminded her with a sympathetic smile. He sighed, "Did you have any other questions for me?"

Minerva pursed her lips, looking thoughtful. Then, she asked, "Where exactly did you go in the castle? What path did you take?"

"Merrythought asked that too," he said, tilting his head. "It's been a while, now, so be patient with me… I started following Peeves before curfew. I found him on the…third floor. When curfew hit, we were in the basement. He didn't spend a lot of time there that night. Most of the night we spent in the dungeons. It's a maze down there, so it's hard for me to say precisely where I was at all times, but I only passed the Potions corridor on my way down into and then out of the dungeons. Like I said before, I never went by the Slytherin common room. Eventually, he went through a wall and I lost him. I was hungry, so I went to the kitchens, straight from the dungeons, through the Potions corridor. You found me in the basement. From there, I went through the Entrance Hall, and up the Hall of Staircases. I took the platforms the stairs brought me to up towards the fifth floor… I ended up on the platform on the opposite side of the hall from the entrance to Ravenclaw Tower, so I…I took a right and followed the corridors that way to get to the common room."

Minerva, Pomona, and Rolanda looked to Poppy to see if this description made sense to her. She nodded, and smiled at Lyall, "Thank you so much for your help, Lyall. We're sorry to interrupt your research, and appreciate you indulging us."

He nodded at them, and the four witches stood to leave. He returned to his work without another word, and they walked away, feeling unsatisfied.

Once they were out of earshot, Pomona sighed and said, "Hagrid, then?"

Her friends nodded. Poppy asked, "Where do you think we'll find him, Minerva?"

"Outside, most likely. I almost never see him inside," Minerva replied.

They walked together to the Entrance Hall and out the doors of the castle. They didn't see him by the lake, or along the tree line of the forest, and so they went to explore the area around the greenhouses. Pomona led the way between them as they searched for Hagrid, and her friends discovered more unexpected pathways and hidey-holes than they realized were in this part of the castle grounds. Minerva glanced over at Rolanda and could practically see the ideas forming in the Slytherin's head of the possibilities those tucked-away places had to offer. Minerva couldn't help but thinking of them herself, and felt a little flustered at how heated those ideas were making her.

Eventually, Pomona led them out of the maze of greenhouses, and the four of them stood on the grounds of Hogwarts looking around dejectedly. Pomona put her hands on her hips and said, "Well, is there anywhere else he could be?"

"Where was he when you saw him that night?" Rolanda asked.

"The dungeons," Minerva replied, frowning.

"That's a strange place for a Gryffindor to be after-hours," Rolanda remarked.

Poppy and Pomona exchanged a nervous glance at that. Minerva watched the exchange and said emphatically, "It is not Hagrid. He's a third-year, and an average student at best."

"Well…," Pomona began carefully, "Lyall did say he didn't think it was a human who did it."

"What, so you think because Hagrid's a half-giant –"

"He's what?" Poppy asked sharply. Rolanda's head perked up.

Minerva blinked at them, feeling just as surprised as they felt. "Of course he is! How could you not know? How do you think he got that big? He's fourteen, for Merlin's sake!"

Her friends exchanged glances. Poppy shrugged, "I thought he got something like a poorly brewed Skele-grow."

"I don't think people would just assume someone's a half-giant," Rolanda added. "I mean, logistically, I can't imagine –"

"Alright, alright you've made your point," Minerva interjected quickly, not wanting to dwell on the logistics of Hagrid's birth.

"I just meant," Pomona continued, her face a bit pink, "that Hagrid could be controlling a creature that has been attacking the students."

"You said he spends a lot of time outside," Poppy reminded her. "Do you know what he does?"

Minerva pursed her lips at them, unwilling to answer. She knew Hagrid to be a friendly, big-hearted, jovial boy, if a little dim. She was certain he was not behind the attacks.

"Minerva?" Poppy prodded gently.

Minerva crossed her arms, "Harrumph." She glanced around at them for a moment longer before unhappily saying, "He's been known to explore the Forbidden Forest. He's served several detentions for it."

Her friends glanced around at each other anxiously.

"It's not him," Minerva said firmly through gritted teeth. "Hagrid is a kind, sensitive boy. He doesn't have it in him to hurt anyone."

Pomona placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, "I'm sure you're right."

Poppy ducked her head. Rolanda glanced at her as she did this, but gave no other outward reaction.

Minerva nodded curtly, "Well, let's try to find him, shall we?"

"We won't get anywhere if he's in the forest," Poppy remarked.

"If that's the case, I'll see him eventually in the common room," Minerva replied. "I can ask him a few questions there."

Poppy pulled out their folded-up list out of the pocket of her robes and flattened it. Rolanda looked over her shoulder, and asked, "You wrote down the list of Prefects who were on patrol the nights Crowley and Wright were attacked. Did you ever hear their accounts of what the night was like for them?"

"Short versions, yes," Poppy replied.

"This is interesting," Rolanda said, pointing to something on the parchment. Poppy quirked an eyebrow at Rolanda's finger. The Slytherin explained, "Henry and Lillian were both patrolling the night Wright was attacked. I'm surprised a couple is allowed to patrol together."

"They're not, not really," Minerva replied. "They never would under the old way of doing patrols, but now that they've doubled the number of Prefects it's harder for Henry and Gloria to make a schedule that fits all the old requirements. Henry and Lillian simply can't pair up with each other; they have to do their rounds with other people."

"Hold on," Pomona said, "I'm so confused. I thought you said either the Head Boy or the Head Girl patrols in a night. Weren't you patrolling with Gloria?"

"I was," Minerva replied. "The Head Boy and Girl alternate nights of leading the patrols, but they're also included in the schedule as Prefects."

"That's absolutely mad," Pomona remarked.

Minerva grimaced, "It is. They're each patrolling five or six nights a week in their NEWT year."

Poppy shook her head, "I'd go mental. Lillian's actually grateful that she's not Head Girl, now."

"But, I'm sorry, I'm still on this Henry and Lillian thought," Rolanda interjected. Her friends looked back over at her. "Weren't they also the ones who found Eve and Jason?"

Minerva's eyebrows shot up, "Are you suggesting that Henry and Lillian are behind this?"

"Why not? We thought that the petrifications could be the result of two people combining their magic in a new way, didn't we?" Rolanda replied.

Poppy scowled at her, "My cousin is not behind this."

Rolanda held her hands up defensively, "Maybe it's a coincidence. I'm just trying to connect what little dots we have."

Poppy folded up the parchment again brusquely, "Henry and Lillian may have both been on patrol that night, but they weren't together. Lillian was patrolling with Shafiq, and Henry was with Lois and Gene."

"Alright, I'm sorry," Rolanda muttered.

"Gene?"

Pomona hovered awkwardly over the chair her ex-boyfriend sat in, doing schoolwork in the Hufflepuff common room. Gene Wood looked up at her and blinked in surprise, his cheeks coloring slightly. They had hardly said two words to each other since breaking up at the end of their fifth year, but now Pomona was itching to ask him a few questions.

"Pomona?" he returned, not bothering to hide the confusion in his tone.

Pomona's own cheeks flushed and she grimaced down at her wringing hands, "I was wondering if I could talk to you in private."

"Er," he glanced around the table he was sitting at. His other three dormmates were sitting with him, all looking up at Pomona with open curiosity. "Sure, we can go to my dorm, if that's alright with you?"

Pomona nodded briskly, wishing her cheeks wouldn't turn so red. He excused himself from the table and left his belongings in place before leading the way back to the sixth-year boys' dormitory. Pomona shut the door behind them. Gene sat on the edge of his bed and gestured to the one across from him, "You can sit there, Ben won't mind, he's – er –" His cheeks turned red again.

He's friends with Theodore, Pomona finished for him in her head, your new boyfriend. Pomona's face felt uncomfortably hot, but she sat on the edge of Ben's bed.

"So," Gene cleared his throat, "what did you want to talk to me about?"

Pomona wrung her hands in her lap, "The attacks." Gene's eyebrows shot up. "You know my friends – Poppy, Minerva, Rolanda –"

"Of course."

"—well, we've been spending a lot of time together trying to figure out the truth behind these attacks. Minerva mentioned you were patrolling the night Gordon Wright was petrified," she began.

"Yes, and so was she. She and Gloria found him," Gene reminded her unnecessarily.

"Right, well, she has one perspective of events. She knows what happened after. But I was wondering what you saw on your patrol. Who were you patrolling with?" she asked.

He eyed her hesitantly before replying, "I patrolled that night with Henry and Lois. We – we sent a few stragglers to bed, and one couple under mistletoe –" he averted his gaze from Pomona at that before continuing, "—but nothing stood out to me as particularly suspicious. And Gibson already asked me to tell her every little detail I could possibly remember, back when it happened. I –" he shrugged, "—I don't think there was anything more to my night than that."

Pomona nodded, frowning into her lap. She smoothed her robes nervously before saying, "Rolanda said something that…made me think." She looked up at him apprehensively. "She wondered if it was just a coincidence that Henry and Lillian were the ones who found Eve and Jason, and that they were also patrolling that night."

Gene blanched. The change was so marked because of how pink his face had been before. Pomona's eyes widened at that reaction and she whispered, "Do you know something?"

He squirmed under her gaze. Pomona did not ease the intensity of her stare, hoping it would break him. Eventually, Gene buried his face in his hands, "This is a disaster."

"Gene, please…if you know something…," Pomona urged.

"It's not –" he sighed, "They just wanted the excitement of snogging while on patrol together. They wanted to try it. Shafiq, Lois, and I…we agreed to cover for them. But then, the attack happened, and it became much more serious. We had to coordinate our stories, and make sure we all agreed to keep the truth a secret. I'm not supposed to be telling you this, but…I didn't even think about Eve and Jason…" His eyes were wide, and his hands covered his mouth.

Pomona's heart pounded at this revelation. She now had to seriously consider if she thought the Head Boy and her best friend's cousin were capable of doing these things, and…would claim it was in service of Slytherin's anti-Muggle-born legacy. Pomona frowned. She couldn't imagine them being supporters of Salazar Slytherin's ideology.

Shaking his head, Gene continued, "At the time, I agreed to keep it a secret because I saw how the new schedule was taking a toll on Gloria. Being Head Girl right now seems to be a special form of torture. I agreed to help in the first place because I imagined Henry was going through much of the same, and the idea that I could help him with a little diversion from it all was appealing to me. Then, well, when I saw Henry, a person who still wanted to be Head Boy, in jeopardy of losing that position, I decided that he couldn't lose it. Only a special kind of person could survive in Henry or Gloria's shoes right now, and I wouldn't want to drop any of the seventh-years right into all that mess."

He looked up at her, pale-faced, "Do you really think they could be behind this?"

Pomona bit her lip as they stared at each other intensely, hearts pounding. Finally, she murmured, "I don't know." She ran her fingers through her red curls and asked, "Do you?"

Gene grimaced, "I don't know. But it hadn't occurred to me until you just suggested it. So maybe that's a good sign of their character? That, or I'm oblivious."

Pomona snorted softly through her nose, "Well, I don't think it's the latter."

Gene gave her a small smile, "Thanks."

"Poppy's adamant Lillian has nothing to do with this," Pomona said. "And…I don't know. Now that we're seriously talking about this, I'm realizing…I cannot imagine Henry doing anything like this."

Gene nodded and said quietly, "I agree."

They sat together in slightly less awkward silence for a moment before Pomona tried joking, "Can you believe this is the most we've said to each other in nearly a year?"

Gene snorted and smiled at her awkwardly. He tilted his head back and forth considering before saying, "We haven't had many opportunities to talk, anyway. I suppose that's because you have so many friends outside of Hufflepuff."

Pomona smiled lopsidedly and shrugged, "I suppose. While I love my friends dearly, though, I do value my friendships within Hufflepuff."

Gene straightened, his cheeks flushing, "You love –"

Pomona flushed, too, and felt compelled to reply, "I don't love Theodore."

Gene's face only turned redder at this, and he looked down at his hands in his lap as he said, "I'm sorry, it's none of my business if you do."

They averted their gazes from each other, both of their faces red. Neither of them was sure how to end the conversation. Speaking a little too quickly, Gene said, "I – er – heard you've been working with Marsh on the Mandrakes."

"I have!" Pomona said, eager to push through the awkwardness.

"How's – how's that going?"

"Good, it's going good," she replied. "It's definitely stressful, though. There's a lot counting on us doing this right. We have two more repottings on the schedule, one this weekend and one in April, and then the next time they move it'll be when they're ready to be harvested."

"I can't imagine how hard it must be to repot them when they get big," he grimaced.

Pomona grimaced too, "Our December repotting was a still manageable, but I'm sure I'll find out next week." He laughed lightly, with only a little awkwardness. Their eyes met and they gave each other small, understanding smiles. Pomona sighed and stood, saying, "I suppose we should be getting back to the common room, lest we want any rumors starting." She gave him a teasing smile at that, and was relieved to see an amused smirk twist at his lips as he stood, too.

That night, at dinner, Rolanda surreptitiously watched Shafiq down the table. Sylvette Shafiq was the seventh-year female Prefect for Slytherin, and if she was patrolling with Lillian Hobbs the night Wright was attacked, Rolanda wanted to hear her part of the story. It was simply a sensitive subject to bring up in Slytherin house. She had to ask her questions discreetly, in a place they could not be heard. But since she and Shafiq did not have much of a relationship, she had to be discreet even in how she approached the older girl. In this particular moment, Rolanda was disappointed she had a reputation for not being the sort of person to care about titles of authority; people would be suspicious if she tried the, "Could I talk to you, as a Prefect?" route.

In Rolanda's peripheral vision, she saw the motion of standing in the area where Shafiq was sitting. She glanced casually over, still having to give the appearance of listening to Lucretia talk about wedding plans, and noticed that Shafiq was indeed getting up to leave. Rolanda's heart started pounding, but her eyes found Lucretia's again in seconds. Her expression did not change.

"…and I'm just exhausted already. It's all too much. I can't keep letting my mother add and add people like this. It feels as though she wants to invite the entire pureblood population of Britain," Lucretia complained.

Rolanda gave her a tight, sympathetic smile, "I can't imagine how stressful that must be."

Lucretia made a deep, throaty sound of disgust that made Rolanda quirk an eyebrow at her. Lucretia smiled at that, albeit a small one, and said, "I'm just glad they've let me make you a bridesmaid."

Rolanda smiled back and reached across the table to pat Lucretia's hand, "Me too." At that moment, Shafiq walked past their place at the table on her way out of the Great Hall. "Who's your Matron of Honor again?"

"Charis Crouch. She's my dad's cousin," Lucretia replied dully. "I hardly know her. She's six years older than me."

"You should make her deal with the stressful bits, if she was so eager to be honored by the role," Rolanda remarked.

Lucretia laughed, "Is that your way of telling me you're tired of hearing me complain?"

Rolanda grinned and stood, "That's my way of telling you I just realized I haven't started my Potions essay that's due tomorrow, and I need Slughorn to love me."

Lucretia laughed again and waved her off. Rolanda turned and walked at her normal brisk pace out of the Great Hall without so much as a glance at Shafiq's back as the older witch walked down the opposite side of the table ahead of her. Rolanda's aisle was closest to the doors, though, so that should make up for some of the distance between them.

Sure enough, when they reached the doors, they were mere feet apart. Shafiq turned, sensing Rolanda's closeness, and raised her eyebrows in recognition, "Robinson."

Rolanda inclined her head, "Shafiq."

Shafiq had a proud, regal-looking face with aesthetically pleasing symmetry, with warm, caramel-colored skin and dark hair and eyes. Rolanda had long thought Shafiq was a beautiful girl, in a way that made her uncomfortable, as though she should feel worse about herself. That was a large part of why Rolanda had never tried to have much of a relationship with the older girl.

In the Entrance Hall, they fell into step together, and Shafiq asked conversationally, "Headed back to the common room?"

"Yes, I have a Potions essay to write," Rolanda replied.

"I'm headed there as well," Shafiq said.

There was a lull in conversation, and then Rolanda asked, "Do you have rounds tonight?"

Shafiq smiled, "No, thank goodness."

"Is being a Prefect really that bad?" Rolanda asked, laughing.

Shafiq shrugged, "Now, perhaps. Our shifts are double the length, and we have two or three a week rather than one or two. I also quite liked walking the halls by myself at night, but now I'm forced to make small talk with someone else."

Rolanda grimaced, "I'm sorry." She glanced around. They were now walking through the dungeons, and it seemed no one was around, "I actually wanted to talk to you about that, but," she lowered her voice, "I was hoping to do it in private."

Shafiq gave Rolanda a searching look, and then looked around the hallway herself. They walked several paces before Shafiq nodded almost imperceptibly. Aloud, she said, "I don't know what you could possibly want to know about my rounds. They're awfully dull, to tell you the truth."

"You just have to get through a few more months, and then you can reap the benefits of having a leadership role in school for the rest of your career," Rolanda reminded her with a sympathetic half-smile.

Shafiq snorted softly, her shoulders rolling up and down slightly. Then, without a word, she stepped to the side and opened a door on her side of the hallway. Rolanda followed her through silently.

As soon as Rolanda shut the door behind her, Shafiq asked, "Did McGonagall and Nadson put you up to this?"

Rolanda grimaced, "Actually, if Poppy knew I was talking to you about this, she'd be less than pleased with me."

Shafiq's eyebrows rose at that, and she crossed her arms. "Well. What is it, then?" she asked bluntly.

"I wanted to know about your rounds the night Wright was attacked. In December. You were patrolling with Lillian Hobbs that night, weren't you?" Rolanda asked.

Shafiq's jaw clenched. She surveyed Rolanda with expressionless, dark brown eyes. Eventually, she said, "I was."

Rolanda stared at Shafiq, curious about her body language. It seemed defensive to Rolanda, which led her to believe that her theory might be right after all. Rolanda decided to be direct, "Did you split up from Lillian at any point? Perhaps, so she could meet her boyfriend?"

Shafiq looked away. Rolanda's heart felt like it was about to explode. Intuitively, she knew the answer, and Shafiq knew that she would too from this body language. Instead of answering, Shafiq asked, "Who told you?"

"No one," Rolanda replied quickly. "I guessed."

Shafiq cursed and shook her head.

"Do other people know?"

"Walsh and Wood, of course. The three of us patrolled together while Hobbs and O'Brien – well, did whatever it is they do together in private. I don't care enough to inquire after their love life, even when forced to spend two hours with Hobbs," Shafiq replied.

"Did you tell the professors?" Rolanda asked breathlessly.

Shafiq inhaled deeply, and then grimaced, "We agreed not to. They would lose their badges if the professors found out they'd been abusing their privileges to do the very thing they were supposed to be taking points for. We vowed to tell no one, but, well, I thought one of them had said something and that's why you knew." She eyed Rolanda consideringly, and asked, "How did you figure it out?"

"I was suspicious of them because they were both patrolling that night, and they were the ones who found Eve and Jason," Rolanda explained, working hard to keep a tone of pride out of her voice.

Shafiq's eyebrows shot up, "You think they are the ones behind these attacks?" At Rolanda's serious expression, her lips started twitching. She shook her head and, slowly, started laughing quietly, "There's no way. They were shaking when the five of us met to discuss what to do, and while they're alright at lying, they're not that good. They were genuinely terrified."

Rolanda sighed and ran her fingers through her blonde hair, "Back to square one, then."

Shafiq gave her a sympathetic smile and said, "If you want my advice, I say let it be. I think it's probably someone really unexpected. Whoever's doing this would try to stay as far away from it all as possible, not draw attention to themselves by alerting the professors of another attack."

"I can't just let it be," Rolanda murmured. "For one thing, my friends never could."

"Ah, well, that's what you get for taking up with the other houses," Shafiq quipped, smirking.

Rolanda smiled ruefully at her and shook her head, "They've made my life infinitely more colorful."

Shafiq nodded, "I can respect that. Personally, though, it seems like a headache."

Rolanda laughed, "It can be."

Shafiq grinned. They stood in comfortable silence together for a moment before Shafiq said, "Well, if that was all…?"

"Yes, thank you," Rolanda replied, gesturing to the door. "You go ahead, you left the Great Hall first."

Shafiq gave her a tight smile and left. Rolanda counted to sixty in her head, and then left, making her way back out of the dungeons and up to the seventh floor instead of following Shafiq to the common room.

A quarter till curfew, Minerva, Rolanda, Poppy, and Pomona were making their way together down from the seventh floor. Pomona and Rolanda needed to return to their common rooms in the basement and dungeons respectively, and Minerva and Poppy were both on the schedule for rounds that night. They hadn't patrolled together at all that year – Poppy said Lillian had told her Henry and Gloria were trying to be conscientious of combinations of Prefects that could distract each other from their duties – but now that Eve had been petrified, they were given the opportunity. Minerva and Agnes Abbott each were given one of Eve's weekly shifts, which they would cover until Henry and Gloria changed the schedule after the Easter break. That meant, though, that for the next eight and a half weeks, Minerva and Agnes would be patrolling for two hours after curfew, three or four times a week.

Minerva imagined she would be very tired by the time the Easter holidays were upon them.

Once they reached the third floor, Minerva and Poppy said their goodbyes to Rolanda and Pomona, who continued on downstairs to their common rooms in the dungeons and basement, respectively. Minerva and Poppy left the Hall of Staircases and headed for the Prefect's lounge to meet the rest of the Prefects on patrol that night.

After giving the password to the gargoyle guarding the lounge, Minerva and Poppy stepped inside. Henry was lounging in one of the armchairs, looking tired already. Her heart went out to him in sympathy; his shifts on the patrol schedule had been awful. She couldn't imagine having to patrol the halls five or six nights a week in her N.E.W.T. year. That sounded like a nightmare. She hadn't a clue how he was keeping it all together.

Fifth-years David MacVanish of Gryffindor and Sophia Moss of Slytherin were sitting in armchairs, not speaking, separate from where Henry sat with a dark expression on his face. Minerva and Poppy exchanged a grimace before taking seats near Henry. He gave them tired smiles as they sat down and said, "Thank you, again, for taking on Eve's Monday shifts, Minerva."

"It's not a problem," Minerva assured him politely, keeping her concerns about her own energy and sanity to herself.

His eyes trailed over to Poppy and he asked with a small quirk of his lips, "If Gloria and I agree to let the two of you patrol the halls together, do you think you can do your jobs?"

"Of course we can," Poppy replied. Minerva huffed with amusement and crossed her arms.

At that moment, Gloria and the seventh-year male Prefect for Hufflepuff, John Dewhurst, entered the lounge. Henry and Gloria exchanged tight, tired, empathetic smiles in greeting, but said nothing to each other once the two Hufflepuffs took seats nearby.

John inclined his head, "Henry."

"John," Henry returned, inclining his head as well.

An awkward silence followed, but John persevered, turning to Minerva and Poppy. His eyebrows raised as he registered Minerva's presence, and greeted her, "Minerva! What a surprise!"

Minerva grimaced, "Someone had to step in for Eve."

John's smile faltered, "Right, of course."

Soon enough, the last two Prefects they were waiting for, Riddle and Urquart, entered the lounge. Minerva's eyes lingered on Riddle as he entered. She hadn't patrolled with him yet either, and as such, had had very few interactions with him this year.

"Alright, now that we're all here," Henry began, sitting up straighter in his chair. David and Sophia joined the rest of the Prefects over by Henry's chair. "I was thinking that we would keep with our usual patrol partners, with Minerva simply slipping into Eve's place. That would leave David and Sophia with me, Gloria with Urquart, John with Riddle, and Minerva with Poppy. Any objections?"

Gloria's eyes darted to Minerva and Poppy, perhaps thinking that it was not ideal for two best friends to patrol together. She said nothing, though.

Henry clapped his hands together and stood, "Alright, then. That's settled. Dungeons, basement, and ground floor go to Minerva and Poppy. Gloria, Urquart, you'll take the first and second floors. David, Sophia, and I will patrol the third, fourth, and fifth floor. That leaves the sixth and seventh floors to Riddle and John. Any questions?"

A few Prefects shook their heads, Minerva included, but others chose to simply not react, such as Riddle. The Prefects made their way out of their lounge, falling into step beside their assigned partners. Minerva and Poppy were quiet on the way down to their assigned floors, but once they turned a corner on the ground floor away from the Entrance Hall, Minerva turned to Poppy and said, "So what do you really think about what Rolanda and Pomona told us?"

In the Room of Requirement that night, both Rolanda and Pomona relayed information they'd gathered from the Prefects in their houses who had been on patrol that night with Henry and Lillian.

Poppy scowled, "It's unfortunate."

Minerva snorted.

"It is!" Poppy insisted defensively. "They were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Twice."

"But what if that's because they did it?" Minerva asked quietly.

"They didn't," Poppy snapped in a whisper.

"How do we know for sure?"

Poppy shot her a sharp look, "Because we know them."

Minerva gave her a dubious look, "We probably know whoever is doing this, Poppy."

Poppy scoffed in disgust, "Probably not as well as I know Lillian. Maybe not even as well as you know Henry."

"I don't really know Henry," Minerva said.

"Exactly," Poppy replied. "And, what's most compelling to me about Henry, at least, is that he's absolutely miserable right now. Do you really think he would've kept up with these attacks if he was behind them, after what the professors have been making him and Gloria go through?"

Minerva pursed her lips. She didn't have a good counterpoint to that.

They walked in comfortable silence after that through the corridors of the ground floor. Near the library, they encountered a few panicked-looking, extremely apologetic stragglers who they let go on their way, considering it was only about ten minutes past curfew and they were all in pairs, at least, with their fellow housemates. Farther from the library, they encountered no students, and decided to make their way down to the basement.

As they neared the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room, they heard a clattering sound that made them stop. They stopped and glanced at each other and listened for any other sounds with their wands instinctively raised. Minerva didn't hear anything else, but Poppy seemed to, because her eyes trailed to a nearby broom cupboard. She quietly crept over to it and leaned closer to the door, listening. Minerva maintained eye contact with Poppy, and eventually, the Ravenclaw mouthed, 'Kissing.' The witches grimaced at each other. Poppy's hand fell regretfully onto the door handle. She hesitated for just a second before twisting and yanking the door open. The two occupants both screamed. Minerva hastily erected a shield charm as a male voice shouted, "Stupefy!" and a jet of red light shot out of the broom cupboard.

A moment of calm silence directly followed the two spells, and Minerva was able to take in the scene. Two fifth-year Hufflepuffs, Prefect Thomas Laskey and Chaser Renée Edwards, were standing in the broom cupboard with red faces. Thomas had his wand out, but now that he'd had an opportunity to process who had opened the door, he lowered it.

"Thomas!" Poppy exclaimed, baffled.

He blanched, "What time is it?"

Minerva rolled her eyes, "About thirty minutes past time for you to not be in a broom cupboard when your dorm is ten paces away."

Thomas and Renée flushed red again. Thomas stuttered, "I'm – I'm so sorry – it's just – some of my dormmates are already sleeping – we – we –"

"Thomas," Minerva interjected. Thomas shut his mouth. "It's fine. Relax. You know we're merciful the first hour after curfew. Just get to Hufflepuff, and don't do this again." She gave him a pointed look to punctuate the sentence.

Thomas nodded vigorously and took Renée's hand, leading her quickly past Minerva and Poppy before either of them could change their minds.

Poppy sighed and shook her head. Minerva snorted softly. The pair of them made their way through the rest of the basement in about twenty minutes, and then went down into the dungeons. The dungeons were the largest territory they had to cover on their rounds, and the most mazelike. They carefully paid attention to their surroundings, because if one didn't look for certain landmarks and visual cues in the dungeons, it was easy to get lost. They navigated through well enough, though, without encountering anyone but the Bloody Baron, and were now making their way out of the dungeons, already within the second and last hour of their rounds.

They rounded their last corner and, ahead, they could see the stairs. They froze, though, because there was a large, hulking figure climbing up the stairs from the dungeons. Minerva's heart pounded. Slytherin's monster? She cast a Silencing Charm on herself and started to approach the figure quickly with her wand raised. Poppy followed, but not without some trepidation. As they neared, though, and the light from the candles in the basement took the figure out of the shadows, Minerva started to recognize him. She relaxed, and cancelled her Silencing Charm.

"Hagrid?" she called.

The figure froze, and turned slowly. The candlelight revealed the guilty-looking, familiar face of Rubeus Hagrid.

Minerva lowered her wand and asked sternly, "What are you doing down here? You should've been in Gryffindor over an hour ago!"

"Well, ah…," he glanced between Minerva and Poppy nervously, "'s a bit o' a personal project o' mine."

Minerva crossed her arms and raised a single skeptical brow. They stared at each other, he looking like an owl and she like a stalking cat. Eventually, Minerva softened as a small sigh escaped her lips, and she lowered her eyebrow. Quietly, she said, "This is where Gloria and I found you the night Wright was petrified, Hagrid."

"I keep me project down here," he maintained.

"What's your project, Hagrid?" Poppy asked gently.

Hagrid wrung his school robes. Instead of answering, he said, "I haven' hurt anyone."

"Hagrid," Minerva pressed in a warning tone. He made no indication that he would finally give her a proper answer. She pursed her lips, "I think we're going to have to go see Professor Dumbledore."

Hagrid blanched, but said nothing to defend himself. Minerva glanced back at Poppy, who grimaced and shrugged. Minerva made her way up the stairs with Poppy close behind and said to Hagrid, "Come on, then."

Hagrid obediently fell into step with them. Minerva noticed how conscientious he was being about taking small enough steps for her and Poppy, despite his slightly brooding expression. She was reminded as she observed him that, despite the fact he was about a foot taller than her and at least twice as wide, he was still just a third-year, and likely had all the insecurities that came with that age. And then some, she thought to herself.

To try to break the tension, Minerva said, "For what it's worth, Hagrid, I don't think you've hurt anyone."

He glanced over at her nervously. She thought he might say something, but their feet carried them up another flight of stairs and he still remained silent.

Once she was confident that he wasn't going to say anything to that, she asked, "Were you doing the same thing the night Wright was attacked?"

Hagrid didn't respond to that at first, but eventually, he nodded slowly.

"Did you see anything that night?" she asked.

"I didn' see wha' happened ter Gordon, if tha's wha' yeh mean," Hagrid replied.

"Did you see anyone at all?" Minerva pressed.

"Tom Riddle saw me jus' before yeh," he answered. He glanced sharply over at her after the words came out of his mouth, paling, "I shouldn'ta said tha'."

"Why not?" Minerva asked quickly.

"Did he ask you not to?" Poppy added.

"He – he promised ter keep me project secret if I didn' say nothin abou' him," Hagrid groaned.

"What was he doing?" Poppy asked, her eyes wide.

"Well, he wasn't on patrol that night," Minerva muttered.

"He said summat 'bout a girl," Hagrid replied, shrugging.

Minerva and Poppy exchanged scowls. It was hard to narrow down suspects in a hotbed of teenage hormones. Unfortunately for Hagrid, despite his friendliness he seemed to be the most likely suspect, solely on the basis of his mystery project. Minerva wondered if whatever it was had a mind of its own; that would explain how someone like Hagrid could, perhaps, unintentionally be behind the attacks.

Eventually, the trio made it to the door to Dumbledore's office on the first floor. Minerva knocked, hoping that somehow Dumbledore would be alerted to someone knocking on his door even if he was within his private chambers. She didn't know where the door to those were; the thought of knowing brought color to her cheeks.

A minute or two passed with no response. Minerva exchanged an uncertain glance with Poppy. She didn't want to knock again, in case he was on his way to the door, but felt like at this point she should. Sighing, she raised her fist to knock again but, at that moment, the door swung open, revealing Albus Dumbledore in a purple dressing gown. He looked around at the three of them with a tired smile, his eyes lingering on Hagrid.

"I'm sorry for disturbing—" Minerva began

Dumbledore waved her off, "It's quite alright, Miss McGonagall." He turned to Hagrid and said, "Out after hours again, Mr. Hagrid?"

Hagrid's cheeks colored.

Dumbledore opened the door more fully and stepped aside, "Well, come on in, then." He looked back at the two Prefects as Hagrid ducked his head and squeezed past him with some difficulty, and said, "Thank you, ladies, for bringing him to me. I will take care of it from here."

With that, Dumbledore closed the door to his office, leaving him alone with Hagrid inside. Minerva and Poppy looked at each other again before making their way back to the ground floor to finish up their rounds. On the stairs, Poppy asked, "You know him better than me. What do you think?"

Minerva shook her head, "Like I said before, Hagrid isn't capable of hurting anyone. The only way he could be behind the attacks is if this mystery project of his has a mind of its own."

"It's possible…," Poppy said hesitantly. Minerva grimaced.

Tuesday, 16 February 1943

At breakfast the next morning, Minerva sat with her Gryffindor friends reading the morning's Prophet. The Great Hall was mostly quiet as everyone read about the most recent attack. Though there seemed to be a new attack every day, now, there didn't seem to be a rhyme or reason behind where the Walpurgisnacht struck, pushing their way into wizarding homes and demanding the occupants join Grindelwald or die, and so it was always a bit of a shock to the people from the places that were attacked. Minerva set down her paper and looked over at Oliver. He sat with his elbows resting on the table and his fingers entwined, covering his mouth. His freckles stood out against his paler-than-usual face. He stared at his plate, though his eyes looked to be miles away.

As Minerva scooted closer to him and put her arm around his shoulders, she imagined his mind was miles away. She imagined he was thinking of his parents, his little brother, and his little sister in their home in Alston, practically just down the road from the town of the latest attack, Penrith. Oliver felt stiff in her embrace. Minerva rested her head against his shoulder, and started massaging the shoulder opposite her head. She watched his face as she worked; the only indication he gave her that he registered what she was doing was the way his eyes closed slowly as she massaged him. Slowly, she felt his shoulders loosen under her head and hand, though his breathing was becoming louder. She thought she saw his eyes tighten shut for a moment, but before she could fully register that, he was standing. Minerva was forced upright as he abruptly got to his feet and started walking quickly out of the Great Hall. She hurried to follow him.

Oliver took long strides, but Minerva's legs were as long as his were. She was able to keep pace with him as he climbed the stairs two at a time, all the way up to the sixth-floor portrait of the Fat Lady. Minerva followed him inside and up the stairs to the boys' dormitories. None of his dormmates were in his room when they entered. When Oliver finally collapsed onto his bed, she got a glimpse of his face for the first time since the Great Hall; her heart ached to see tears in his eyes. The sight sent chills down her spine and her arms. She couldn't remember ever seeing him cry before.

Minerva approached his bed cautiously. He'd turned his back to her, perhaps because he didn't want her to see him like this. She loved him, though, and refused to let him deal with this alone. Minerva climbed onto the bed and slid right up against him, spooning him from behind. She was relieved when he allowed her arm to slip between his and hugged it against his chest. They laid there in silence for a few minutes, Minerva with her face buried into the back of his robes with tears in her own eyes, and Oliver sniffling and crying quietly.

Eventually, though, Minerva felt she needed to say something. She propped herself up on her free elbow and started stroking his head, looking over his shoulder at his face. His eyes and nose were red, and his face was tear-streaked and pale. He didn't look up at her. She stayed her hand and leaned down to place a kiss on his cheek. Near his ear, she murmured, "They're alright."

Oliver sniffed and croaked, "For now."

Minerva's lips formed a thin line at that. She wasn't sure what to say.

Thankfully, though taking her by surprise, Oliver spoke, "I thought I knew fear." Minerva's heart sank and she closed her eyes. Oliver whispered, "I've never been this afraid in my life."

Minerva continued to stroke his hair, uncertain what to say to that.

Oliver added quietly, "I'm ashamed."

"Of being afraid?" Minerva asked.

He nodded once.

Minerva shook her head, though he couldn't see, and replied in a soothing voice, "We all experience fear. We're human. You don't have to be brave and strong all the time just because you're a Gryffindor, Oliver."

He didn't say anything to that. Eventually, though, he finally turned in her arms, looking up at her face. His brow furrowed slightly and his lips parted to see that her eyes were red, too. Minerva gave him a sad little smile and stroked his cheek affectionately. Oliver reached up and touched her cheek, too. He said, "I didn't want you to see me like this. I didn't want to upset you."

Minerva shook her head again and leaned down to place a gentle kiss on his forehead. She murmured, "I love you, Oliver. You can be vulnerable with me." Their hands clasped together and, staring at them, she added, "I won't judge you when you're not strong."

She glanced up at his face again and saw that his eyebrows had crumpled a bit again at that. He was pressing his lips together tightly. He looked like he was going to cry again, but this time, for a different reason. Minerva felt a tear escape her eye and gave him a rueful smile. Oliver rolled onto his other side, facing Minerva now, and she laid down beside him. Their legs slid together, and Oliver pulled her close with the arm that wasn't entwined with hers between them. He kissed her softly, tenderly on the lips, and then rested his forehead against hers.

"I love you so much," he murmured.

"I love you too."

He kissed her hand, and said, "You're the center of my world. You're my motivation to face the day when I know bad news is coming. You're…you're simply the best thing that's ever happened to me."

They stared at each other intensely. Minerva's heart raced, as she could practically feel the intensity of his love for her. It took her breath away. She reached with her free hand up to his face and held it there as she leaned forward to kiss him softly. As she pulled away, his grip on her tightened, urging her back, and kissed her again.

Minerva pulled away regretfully, murmuring warningly, "We need to go to Potions."

"I don't want to go to Potions," Oliver muttered, biting her lip.

Minerva laughed softly through her nose, smirking at him, "Come on." She tried to get out of the bed, but he wrapped his arms around her tighter and pulled her to him. She laughed more fully at that. "Don't make me hex you, Brown."

Oliver released her immediately, knowing better than to take a threat like that lightly. She grinned down at him as she sat up. Oliver pouted up at her. "Why do I need Potions, again?"

"It's useful," she replied, standing.

"Debatable. Apothecaries carry potions."

"At higher rates than what it would cost to brew it yourself," she reminded him loftily, checking her hair in a mirror.

Oliver harrumphed and got out of bed.

"Could I have everyone's attention, please?" Minerva asked. The different groups she'd divided her Transfiguration Club into all stopped what they were doing and turned to her. "Going around the room, it seems most of you need a little revision on Switching Spells, which is understandable. Even though they are taught in their simplest form in first year, they are more complex than that and they will be revisited on both the O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. exams. Well, so I hear, about the NEWTs." She allowed herself a small smile at that.

"The root of the incantation is the same, for whatever you are switching: Permuto. If you are merely switching one characteristic of an object with another, the incantation is Permuto Partis. An easy way to remember it is by thinking that you are only switching part of the object. Along a similar vein, if you are switching the entirety, or the total, of one object with another, perhaps to have them trade places, the incantation is Permuto Totalus. The direction of what needs to be switched comes from your focus. You need to clearly think about what you want to happen as you say the words, or think them, if you're onto nonverbal magic. That focus of will is the key to a successful Switching Spell."

Minerva turned to the box on her desk that Dumbledore had given her full of supplies from lessons earlier in the year that he wouldn't need again until the next school year. From it, she selected the small cushions and levitated them out of the box, distributing them in pairs to the different groups around the room. One of the cushions she gave them was plain, white, and round, while the other was square with a little soft, round bauble in the center, "I want you to try switching that bauble from its cushion to the other one. Let me know if you need help."

Minerva walked around the room as she watched the students that she tutored work with varying levels of difficulty. The ones who were trying were all having a hard time reaching success. As she stopped to watch the fifth-years struggle with the task, the door to her classroom opened. She raised her eyebrows in surprise as Dumbledore popped his head inside. He gave her a tight smile as their eyes met. Minerva's stomach dropped at that expression. She knew without him having to say a word that he had bad news. He motioned for her to come out into the hall with him.

Heart pounding, Minerva announced to the class, "Continue what you're doing, I'll be back in a moment." She ended her statement with a slightly inquiring lilt, making eye contact with Dumbledore. He nodded in response. Some students stopped to watch as she quickly made her way to the door. Dumbledore held it open as she passed through, and then closed it behind her once she was in the corridor with him.

Minerva waited with bated breath for him to speak. Dumbledore sighed heavily and said, "As soon as your lesson is over, could you please bring Miss Grantham to my office?"

"Of course," Minerva replied quickly. She wanted to ask more, but wasn't sure if he'd find that appropriate.

"Thank you," he replied. His eyes trailed back to the door of her classroom, and he added, "I want to disrupt her learning as little as possible, so please…do your best to proceed with discretion."

Minerva nodded briskly, her heart sinking. She had an idea of what news he had for Helen Grantham. He grimaced at her and inclined his head before turning on his heel and departing. Minerva took a deep breath and smoothed her robes unnecessarily as she tried to compose herself. When she stepped back inside her classroom, her expression betrayed none of what Dumbledore had said to her. She proceeded with her tutoring with a professional demeanor, ignoring the inquiring looks of some of the older students.

At the end of the lesson, Minerva made sure she was working with the second-years so as to stop Helen more discreetly. Standing near the second-years' table, Minerva announced, "Alright, everyone, that's all the time we have tonight. I hope to see you all again on Thursday."

Most of the students started packing up their belongings after her pronouncement, though a few started making their way over to her. She pretended as though she hadn't noticed, yet, and turned to Helen, saying, "You've certainly improved a great deal since you started coming here, Helen."

Helen blushed and smiled, "Thank you. You've been a great help."

"I'm glad," Minerva replied. She glanced up and met the eye of a nearing fourth-year Ravenclaw, Xander Trelawney. She quickly turned back to Helen and murmured, "Do you mind staying a bit after? I'd like to talk to you in private."

Helen blanched, and Minerva's heart broke a little. A twelve-year-old girl shouldn't instinctively assume the worst when asked for a private word, but that was the world they lived in. Helen nodded, and resumed packing her bag more slowly.

Minerva turned to Xander and gave him a tight smile, "What can I do for you, Xander?"

"Thanks so much for reviewing Switching Spells, I still have a hard time with them. For me, though, the hardest ones are the Cross-Species Switching Spells. Do you think we can go over those next time?" he asked.

"Unfortunately, it's difficult for me to acquire live animals simply for tutoring. That's something that I would go to Dumbledore with during his office hours," Minerva replied.

Xander sighed in disappointment but gave her an understanding smile, "Thanks, anyway."

Minerva nodded, and turned her attention to the student waiting behind him as he walked away to collect his belongings. It was another Ravenclaw, a fifth-year girl named Aisley Locke. She was holding a roll of parchment in her hands, which she held out to Minerva, "I finished making the changes you suggested. Would you mind giving it one last look?"

"Of course not," Minerva replied, though inwardly she wondered why she was so indulgent. Helen was probably agonizing about what Minerva had to say to her. Still, Minerva skimmed over the familiar essay, looking for the points she'd suggested changing and adding. Once finished, she looked up at Aisley and smiled, "Great work, Aisley." Aisley beamed, happily accepting her scroll back.

Thankfully, there were no other students waiting behind Aisley, and Minerva began tidying up the classroom as the rest of the students filed out. She banished the cushions back to their box with one wave of her wand, and with a flick, righted all the chairs that hadn't been properly pushed in.

Soon enough, the only two people left in the room were Minerva and Helen. The second-year Gryffindor girl met her eyes nervously. Minerva attempted a reassuring smile and said, "Dumbledore wants us to go to his office."

"So he was here for me," Helen said quietly. Minerva placed a hand on the girl's shoulder, unsure of what to say. She was afraid that this twelve-year-old's life was about to change forever.

They walked together to Dumbledore's office in tense silence. Minerva felt she needed to get better at making reassuring small talk. That sort of thing, though, was simply not in her nature. Once they finally reached the door, Minerva glanced down at Helen to gauge her emotional state. The girl was pale-faced, and she was wringing her hands nervously. A pang shot through her heart on her behalf, and, steeling herself, she knocked on Dumbledore's door.

"Come in."

Minerva turned the knob and pushed open the door to reveal Dumbledore seated behind his desk. He removed his half-moon spectacles as he looked up at them, and gave Helen a calming smile. This did not seem to have an impact on Helen, though, who stood frozen next to Minerva.

"Miss Grantham, thank you for coming," he said. "Please, come in and have a seat."

Helen didn't move. She glanced up at Minerva, who attempted a reassuringly smile. Helen looked back at Dumbledore and said, "Can she come in too?"

"If you would like," he replied.

Minerva patted Helen on the shoulder and urged the girl inside. She shut the door behind them as they entered, and led the way to the chairs across from Dumbledore's desk. Helen sat down warily in the chair Minerva left vacant.

Dumbledore stood up and came around the desk. He leaned against it directly in front of Helen, folding his hands in front of him. Once he settled into position, he met Helen's eyes and said, "While you were in Transfiguration Club, I received word from the Auror Department that there was an attack in Lincoln by the Walpurgisnacht." Helen's lips started trembling, and the way she wrung her hands became more aggressive. Dumbledore took a breath before plowing forward, "Your home was one of the ones targeted. I am very sorry to tell you that your parents and your sister did not survive the attack."

Minerva closed her eyes tightly as Helen's entire body crumpled. A sound like a wounded animal came from the girl as she began to sob. Anger pulsed through Minerva's veins. Helen was too young to know this kind of pain. Too young to know the horrors of war. Too young to be alone in the world. Minerva took a deep breath and left her chair, kneeling on the floor beside Helen's chair. She put her arms around the girl, who was folded over as sobs racked her body. Helen reached out in response to Minerva's touch and clung to her. Minerva felt each of Helen's wails in her heart, like a punch to the gut. Tears sprung to her own eyes, but she blinked hard to hold them back. This girl needed her to be strong. She needed someone to tell her everything was going to be okay.

She made eye contact with Dumbledore over Helen's shoulder. He glanced away as he wiped away a single tear from his own eye. Somehow, seeing that action strengthened Minerva. Knowing that he was affected too was heartening; she wasn't necessarily failing Helen by getting emotional herself, if someone like Albus Dumbledore could still get emotional delivering news like this to his students.

The longer Helen cried, the more she leaned on Minerva. From Minerva's position on the ground, though, Helen's weight was starting to become burdensome. She wished for a place to sit beside the girl. She made eye contact with Dumbledore again, trying to convey with her body language that she wanted to adjust her position. Dumbledore, somehow, was able to understand her, and transfigured the chair Helen was already sitting in into a couch. Minerva took a seat on it, and took Helen back into her arms, rubbing soothing circles on her back. Every now and then, Helen's sobs would wane, but then come back in full force. Each time this would happen, Minerva grimaced to herself as the force of Helen's renewed pain washed over her.

As Helen's sobs finally started to die down, Dumbledore offered her a cup of water, which she gratefully drank. She stared into space as she sipped from it, leaning against Minerva with a listless expression on her face. Her eyes were puffy and red, and her cheeks were covered in tear tracks.

"Your aunt and uncle are safe," Dumbledore said quietly. "They have agreed to take you in."

Minerva watched Helen's expression to gauge if she'd heard. Helen sniffed and pushed her hair out of her face. She nodded into her lap as she did so, but said nothing. Dumbledore offered her a handkerchief, which she took and used to blow her nose. He conjured a new one for her to use for her cheeks, and vanished the one she'd just used. Helen wiped her face while still leaning heavily against Minerva. Once her hand dropped back into her lap, the handkerchief crumpled in her hand, she looked up at Minerva and murmured, "Thank you."

Minerva squeezed her tightly and replied quietly, "Of course."

Helen sniffed and buried her head against Minerva's shoulder again. Her face crumpled again, but no tears came out. She croaked, "My mum loves," a shaky breath shuddered out of her as the pain of realizing she'd instinctively used the incorrect tense hit her, "Transfiguration. That's what she always ask-asked about in her letters. I –" Helen's voice broke, "I wanted to-to get better for-for her."

Minerva closed her eyes and wrapped both of her arms around Helen. She murmured, "You still can. In her memory."

Helen's sobs renewed. Minerva wished she knew the right thing to say to ease the girl's pain, but she, personally, was fortunate enough to have no experience with loss. She looked helplessly up at Dumbledore. Taking in his somber expression, she remembered what he'd said to her on Christmas: I have a brother, but that's all. He met her eyes. She hoped he saw her plea for help in her eyes.

Dumbledore grimaced and looked down at his hands again, and Minerva's heart sank. She looked away, back down Helen's back, disappointed in Dumbledore. Helen's sobs were the only sound filling the room for a few minutes before Dumbledore's voice surprised Minerva, "Miss –" Minerva glanced up at him in surprise. He was looking at her. He stopped and shook his head, and then started again, "Helen."

Helen's sobs quieted in surprise at being addressed by her first name. She lifted her head from Minerva's shoulder and looked up at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore gave the girl a sympathetic smile, took a deep breath, and said, "I…I lost my parents at a young age as well." Helen stared up at him with wide eyes, surprised with his openness. "I was eleven when I lost my father, and seventeen when I lost my mother." Dumbledore's lips thinned. He glanced out the open window for a moment before continuing, "I won't pretend like those events didn't change my life. They absolutely did. And this will change yours." Helen's lips quivered, and she looked back down into her lap. "But, looking back on those times in my life, the hurtles that I had to overcome because of those loses ultimately made me stronger. I know you will come out of this stronger, little does it feel like that now."

Helen sniffed. Minerva conjured another handkerchief for her, which she gratefully took. Smoothing the girl's hair, Minerva felt compelled to say, "And you'll carry them with you every step of the way."

Helen nodded quickly. She inhaled sharply, squeezing Minerva's hand.

Minerva's heart ached as she watched this twelve-year-old girl try to put on a brave face, and murmured, "You don't have to be strong right now, Helen."

Helen's eyebrows crinkled and she shook her head.

"Your aunt and uncle will be coming to Hogwarts tomorrow," Dumbledore informed her softly. "You are excused from classes for the day. Tomorrow, we can discuss your options if you need more time."

Helen nodded.

Dumbledore sighed, "Well, I'm sure you don't feel up to dinner in the Great Hall." Helen shook her head. "I can have food brought here for you instead."

"I'm not hungry," Helen said quietly.

"You should eat," Minerva urged. She looked up at Dumbledore, "I'll take dinner here, if you don't mind."

Dumbledore nodded and summoned a house-elf named Zookey to bring them dinner. Zookey popped away and returned minutes later with a tray of far too many sandwiches, three plates, a teapot, and three cups. Dumbledore took one of the plates and served himself two different kinds of sandwiches and a cup of tea, which he brought with him back behind his desk. Minerva inspected the sandwiches and found that the blandest among them was a cheese sandwich, so she brought one of those and a cup of tea to Helen. She chose for herself a ham and cheese sandwich and an egg salad sandwich, and brought her plate and her own cup of tea back to the couch. Helen sat there holding her tea with her plate balancing on her knees, not touching the food. Minerva sipped her tea and watched Helen over the rim of the cup. Perhaps sensing her gaze, Helen looked up from the ground and met Minerva's eyes. The hollow expression in the girl's eyes chilled Minerva.

Minerva set her teacup down on Dumbledore's desk and picked up one of her sandwiches, biting into it pointedly. Helen looked away from her, down at her plain sandwich. She picked it up and looked at it without enthusiasm, before, thankfully, slowly bringing it to her mouth and taking a bite. Minerva smiled slightly behind her own sandwich. Slowly but methodically, Helen ate her sandwich, though she looked like she was forcing herself to do so with every bite.

They ate in silence, and as they did so, Minerva couldn't help but feel like this girl was her responsibility now. Someone need to look after her, make sure she was still eating, sleeping, going to class, doing her assignments, and all the other things one needed to do to take care of oneself. It seemed those things were going to be difficult for Helen. Minerva vowed that she would do her best to help keep Helen's life on track.

Once Minerva had eaten her fill, and it seemed Helen could not be coaxed into eating any more, Minerva said, "It's getting late. We should probably be heading back to Gryffindor Tower…" she glanced down at Helen and added, "unless you're not ready?"

"I can go back," Helen replied quietly. She set her plate on the couch beside her and looked up at Dumbledore, "Thank you, sir."

"If you need anything at all, please let me know," he said with a kind smile.

Minerva stood with her, but just as she was turning to go, Dumbledore said, "Ah, Miss McGonagall, since I have you here—" Minerva turned back around to face him, and he continued, "—if you're ready, I would like to begin your project on Saturday."

Minerva smiled a proper smile and said, "I'm ready."

"Wonderful. I will let Professor Marsh know," he replied with a small smile of his own.

"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore."

"No, Miss McGonagall, thank you," he returned. His eyes shifted over to Helen, and he said, "I hope you sleep well, Miss Grantham."

Helen grimaced at him, and turned to leave, her hands balled into fists. Minerva gave Dumbledore one last sad smile before following the second-year out the door and to the Gryffindor common room. They walked in silence the whole way, but before Helen could give the Fat Lady the password, Minerva placed a staying hand on her shoulder. Helen didn't turn to look at her, but didn't give the password, either.

"Helen…I just want you to know, even though I don't know how you're feeling, you can come to me if you need anything. If you just want to talk, or if you're having trouble sleeping…anything. You can rely on me," she said quietly.

Helen bowed her head. She looked like she might cry again, but she held it together. "Thank you," she whispered.

At that moment, the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open, revealing, to Minerva's surprise, a band of sixth-year boys, led by Oliver. Everyone stared at each other for a moment in surprise, before Donnie finally said, "I found her."

Minerva stared at them, bewildered, "What is this, a search party?"

Oliver's face flushed, "Well, you weren't at dinner and no one knew where you were."

"I'm sorry if I worried you," Minerva said. At that moment, Helen pulled away from her, startling her, and walked quickly inside Gryffindor Tower. The sixth-year boys looked around at her as she passed them curiously. Minerva watched her walk away with a frown, hoping that she would actually come to her with her problems.

"Troublemaker?" Richard asked.

Minerva grimaced, "Ah, no. The Walpurgisnacht killed her parents and sister."

The boys blanched. Richard covered his mouth with a muttered curse.

"Well, er, since we found you, I suppose we can go back inside, then," Donnie said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. Richard, Theodore, Alexander Cridland, and Edmund Douglas followed Donnie back into the common room.

Oliver, making eye contact with Minerva and seeing that she made no move to follow, stayed back with her. Once the portrait hole was shut behind them, he approached her and put his arms around her. They stood there, drawing comfort from each other for a moment before a voice interjected, "Are you going in or not, then?"

Minerva and Oliver separated and turned to look at the Fat Lady, who looked rather impatient. "Not," Minerva answered. With that, she took Oliver by the hand and led him down the corridor to the nearest unused classroom.

Once that door shut behind them, Oliver asked, "Are you alright?"

Minerva shrugged, "It's not my family that's dead."

"Yes, but I know from experience that other people's grief can be draining," he said. "When Donnie's dad died, it ended up being really hard on me. That's my best mate, you know? He needed me, and I was there for him, but…I nearly went mad myself."

Minerva sighed and placed her head on his shoulder, snaking her arms around his neck. Oliver wrapped her in a hug, and Minerva leaned into it gratefully. "You're right."

"Of course I'm right," he teased lightly. Minerva snorted softly. Oliver smiled into her hair. "And I know you, Minerva McGonagall. You're going to want to take care of that girl. I'm not going to stop you, but please, don't forget to take care of yourself, too."

"I'm sure you won't let me forget," Minerva murmured.

"No, I won't," Oliver agreed. "But you can make my job easier."

Minerva's laughter came out like a little hum at that. She lifted her head off his shoulder and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips. He hummed happily at the contact and leaned forward to kiss her again slowly, tenderly. Minerva smiled as he pulled away and said, "That reminds me." He raised his eyebrows at her. "I'm finally going to be starting my Animagus project on Saturday."

"That's exciting!" Oliver replied with a grin. "But what reminded you?"

"Kissing you," she replied with a rueful smile. He blinked at her, confused. She explained, "The first part of the process requires me to put a Mandrake leaf in my mouth from one full moon to the next. I have to hold it in there for about a month, essentially, and it's there to…absorb my magic, and, I suppose, my saliva." She watched his expression, wondering if he would make the connection on his own. He still looked confused. She sighed and finished, "So that means that the Mandrake leaf cannot be contaminated with anyone else's magic or saliva."

Finally, it clicked. Oliver's jaw dropped a little, "Wha – what? No…"

She gave him a sad little smile and nodded, "I'm afraid so."

Oliver pouted, glancing down at her lips, "But I like kissing you."

"Then you'd better get a month's worth of it out of me before Saturday night," she murmured, a playful smile curling at her lips.

Oliver grinned, catching her meaning. He didn't need her to tell him twice to snog her senseless.