Amato Animo
Sunday, 14 March 1943
Minerva stepped out of the portrait hole of Gryffindor Tower before dawn the next day. Dumbledore greeted her with a tired smile, "Good morning, Miss McGonagall."
"Good morning, Professor Dumbledore," she replied as she fell into step beside him. She was tired, but determined not to show it. She wanted to show commitment to this project, and if he was willing to wake up at this ungodly hour to help her reach her goals, she could do it too.
"I did not hear any raucous celebrations going on in Gryffindor Tower last night," he remarked.
"Our victory was a little too close for comfort, I think," Minerva replied with a small grimace.
"The conditions were not ideal," he allowed, smiling sympathetically.
"I was a little worried about that for this morning, actually," she said as they reached the Hall of Staircases. "If the ground is still wet from the rain, would there be any dew?"
"I admit I was a little concerned, myself, but, as you know, the weather cleared yesterday afternoon. I went outside last night to check how wet everything still was. While the ground was still quite wet and muddy, I thought the tree by the lake was a good, isolated option for our purposes. Its leaves were mostly dry, but I may have used a little magic to shake the rest of the water loose," Dumbledore explained with a small, self-satisfied smirk. Minerva looked over at him in amusement and gratitude, meeting his twinkling eyes with laughter in her own.
"I'm very grateful for the lengths you've gone to for my project," Minerva said sincerely. "I wouldn't have thought to try to control the environment in that way."
"Well, advanced though you may be in Transfiguration for your age, I do have a bit more research experience on you," he joked. Minerva laughed. Dumbledore grinned. "I have had many an experiment ruined by things beyond my control, so I've admittedly grown rather paranoid about controlling as much as I can."
"And I am the lucky witch who benefits from your toil and torment," Minerva grinned.
He laughed. "Careful, now, don't be too self-assured. Much of the Animagus transformation relies on Mother Nature to cooperate."
Minerva grimaced, "Oh, I know. I have nightmares about it."
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at her sudden seriousness, "Well, if you have any genuine concerns, let me reassure you that despite this project's dependency on nature, with enough patience, I am confident you will achieve your goal."
"If I have a form," she reminded him, though her heart warmed to hear his confidence in her.
"If you have a form," he allowed.
"Is that…," Minerva hesitated, eyeing her professor. The question on the tip of her tongue was one she'd had for a while. She licked her lips nervously and continued, "Is that why you're not an Animagus? You don't have a form?"
He hesitated. They walked down a few steps in silence. With each step, the knots in Minerva's stomach tightened, until finally, mercifully, he replied, "Yes. For all I am a wizard with one of the most impressive resumés in Britain, I cannot complete the Animagus transformation. But don't let that discourage you! My talents are varied, whereas I would consider it a crime against magic and perhaps the very laws of nature for you to not have an Animagus form." Minerva gave him a weak smile as they paused on their last moving staircase. He smiled back kindly. "Your magic is so attuned to Transfiguration that I cannot imagine you not having one. My magic is more offensive, I think. I'm a natural duelist, which is the greatest of ironies as I would much rather settle a disagreement with words than wands, and have devoted my life to using my magic academically."
Minerva blinked up at him in surprise. She'd always envisioned him playing a more strategic role in the war against Grindelwald, but with that information, it sounded to her as though he was out there fighting more than she'd thought. Attempting to sound nonchalant despite her extreme curiosity, Minerva commented, "I didn't know you were a duelist."
"Oh, yes. I spent most of my thirties, and some of my forties making the rounds of dueling tournaments, actually," he explained. "It's not mentioned as much as Professor Merrythought's dueling history, I imagine, since it's not particularly pertinent information to share about a Transfiguration professor. I think people forget."
"Well, I'm sure that natural ability has become an asset in recent years," Minerva remarked with a raised brow.
Dumbledore shot her an amused look, the twinkle in his eyes in full effect, but said nothing to that. She grinned privately to herself, pleased to have amused him, pleased that he knew she hadn't actually been fishing for information about the war. They both knew that he couldn't tell her anything.
They walked to the doors of the Entrance Hall in comfortable silence. As they stepped out, Minerva took a deep breath of the crisp, clean night air. To be on the safe side, they had agreed to meet an hour before astronomical dawn, which meant that, taking into consideration the time it took them to walk down from the sixth floor, it was probably only just now nearing four in the morning. It was crucial that the dew Minerva used in her project was untouched by the sun's rays.
"Speaking of dueling," Dumbledore said suddenly, despite the fact that they hadn't spoken for a few minutes. Minerva looked up at him curiously. "You still need to show me what those training dummies in the Room of Requirement can do."
With the information that he'd been in dueling tournaments fresh in her brain, Minerva now felt very self-conscious about the prospect of dueling in front of him. "I thought you were too busy," she replied.
"I am busy, but I'd like to see what the Room is capable of," he said.
They walked a few paces in the direction of the tree on the edge of the lake in silence. Minerva reminded herself that she knew that Merrythought was a champion duelist, but she was comfortable not only dueling in front of her, but also wrestling with her. That wrestling, though, might have something to do with her lack of self-consciousness. It's the same thing, she assured herself firmly. Don't you want to prove to a member of the Resistance that you're ready? She did, of course. Feeling a little more enthusiastic, now, she turned to Dumbledore and asked, "Are you available tomorrow afternoon? Right after classes?"
"I can be," he replied. They stopped together beneath the tree. "I can go straight to the Room of Requirement after my last class."
"I'll be there," she said, looking up at the tree. She smiled at the sight of dew droplets on the leaves. Dumbledore handed her a vial, and she gently collected enough dew from the leaves to fill the vial. She would only need a small spoonful, but they wanted to make sure they had more than enough in case of any accidents. To that end, they collected a second vial as well, once Minerva put the stopper in the first one.
"Now," Dumbledore said. He pulled a simple black box about the size of his hand out of the pocket of his robes. "Since you have weaseled out of me the information that I have attempted the Animagus transformation to no avail, I do not need to give you the explanation I'd prepared for why I have this. This box is magically warded to admit no light or sound, so you can use it to protect not only our dew samples, but also your potion."
"Thank you," Minerva said. She placed the vials in the box as he held it out, and then took it from him. She held it protectively against her abdomen and raised her eyebrows at her professor, "You were planning on lying to me?"
He chuckled, "Only because I didn't want to discourage you unnecessarily. I wanted to avoid telling you of my failure."
"I understand that," she replied.
They started walking back to the castle together. Dumbledore asked, "Do you plan on trying to get more sleep before Gryffindor's early Quidditch practice?"
Minerva smiled, "Oh, I canceled that. We don't need a practice the day after a Quidditch match. We need a break. So, I can sleep in as long as I want, and my brother will still collect my family's letters for me in the Great Hall."
As they mounted the stairs together, he informed her, "I made sure to tell your parents about your victory when I saw them yesterday."
"Because it was so impressive?" she remarked drily.
He grinned, "No, because the last time you played, your father expressed disappointment when I saw him Sunday morning that he hadn't included his congratulations in his letter to you."
Minerva glanced over at him, thoughtful. There was a lull in conversation for a few steps before Minerva said, "Do you know my parents well?"
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at the question, "Ah, well, I'd say I know them as they choose to present themselves, and I think I would count them amongst my friends, but I wouldn't say we are close."
"I forget, sometimes, that you see them so often," Minerva explained. "It's strange for me to imagine."
"You perceive your home life and your school life to be separate. Different worlds, almost," Dumbledore supplied.
Minerva nodded, "Yes, exactly."
"I felt the same way as a student," he said. "I think most people do."
They were quiet again, this time for the entire time it took them to climb a staircase. Minerva was growing tired as the adrenaline of the excitement of progressing with her project started to wear off, and Dumbledore's words had reminded her of something she'd heard him say once. He'd lost his father when he was eleven, and his mother when he was seventeen. Those ages were significant in a wizard's life, bookends to the years spent at Hogwarts. She wondered how much losing his father had informed his years at Hogwarts, or if there had been events, like an illness, leading up to the death of his mother that impacted those years. She wondered how much of an escape Hogwarts had been for him. As her mind started down that path, she started to imagine that escapism might explain why someone with such a talent for offensive magic became a scholar.
Minerva was pulled from her thoughts as Dumbledore started sifting through the pockets of his robes. She watched him curiously, and slowed to a stop on the stairs as he did. The staircase started moving again, though as long as they were moving in an upward direction it didn't really matter which platforms they took to get there.
"Is that a Muggle pen?" Minerva asked with raised brows as Dumbledore produced the items he'd evidently needed.
Dumbledore merely hummed in confirmation as he scribbled something onto a beat-up roll of parchment, using his thigh for support. He only wrote down a few words before capping the pen and tearing his note from the rest of the parchment. When he looked up at her again, he said, "Yes, I've found them to be much more convenient for jotting down a quick note." He replaced the pen and now-shorter roll of parchment in their pocket, and then pulled a few more scraps of parchment out of another to show her. "A good habit for an active mind. This way, I don't have to spend so much energy on remembering my occasionally brilliant thoughts, and can focus more easily on what I am doing in the moment."
"I'd compliment you on your organization, but those loose bits of parchment make me worried you'll lose your ideas anyway," Minerva remarked.
Dumbledore laughed, "Touché." Minerva quirked a smile at him, and they continued on their way in comfortable, mutually tired silence again, until Dumbledore quietly asked, "How has Gryffindor been since Mr. Kendrick and Miss York were found?"
"I think we're mostly back to normal," Minerva replied with a rueful smile. "Like you said, we're remarkably resilient. Living with a looming cloud of danger is our normal."
Dumbledore grimaced at that, but tried to make light of the situation, "Then I take it they're not harassing you for information?"
Minerva did laugh lightly at that, "No, not anymore. I think they've realized that I know nothing, finally." She glanced up at him, "What about you? Have you seen more curious Gryffindors at your door since then?"
"A few," he replied with a smile. "But I think Gryffindors are more naturally inclined to believe authority figures aren't going to give them what they seek."
"No, we think we have to save the day on our own," she agreed with a wry smirk. She closed her eyes and shook her head at that, groaning slightly, "I am such a stereotypical, foolish Gryffindor, aren't I?"
Dumbledore laughed, "Well, I wouldn't say you're foolish. Far from it."
"Thank you," she replied, though there was a small grimace still on her face.
"If it's any consolation, putting your actions into that context has made me feel less like I've failed you," he said. She raised her eyebrows at him. They stopped together at the top of their last flight of stairs, and he elaborated, "It helps to think you've decided to take this on your shoulders out of some innate Gryffindor stubbornness."
Minerva laughed, "I'm happy to be of service."
She started to continue walking towards the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, but Dumbledore stopped her. "Before we reach the Fat Lady," he began. Minerva raised her eyebrows. "I wanted to say that while I don't particularly care that you – perhaps without even realizing – have stopped addressing me as 'sir' or 'Professor,' I ask that you make an effort to remember the formality in front of your peers and professors."
Minerva's mouth opened slightly in surprise, her cheeks coloring. "Professor, I—"
He held up a staying hand, "It's alright. I've noticed it ever since the attack on Mr. Kenrick and Miss York, and I've deduced it's probably because the conversations we've had about these attacks have shattered the illusion of 'otherness' that comes with being a professor. Like I said, I don't care. I simply ask because others may interpret it as a lack of respect."
"I have a great deal of respect for you," Minerva said quietly, her face still a little warm.
"I know," he said with a reassuring smile.
With some awkwardness, they resumed their walk, reaching the portrait of the Fat Lady without another word.
"You came back," the Fat Lady grumbled once they woke her up. "You know, I don't appreciate being woken up this many times in the middle of the night."
"I am very sorry, my dear lady," Dumbledore said in a placating tone. "We, too, would have rather not had to be awake at this hour, but Miss McGonagall's project required it."
The Fat Lady harrumphed, and said, "Alright then, let's get on with it, give me the password."
"Serpens delenda est," Minerva said. The Fat Lady's portrait swung open. Minerva turned to face Dumbledore with a small smile.
"Well, I hope you are able to get some more sleep," he said, inclining his head. When he straightened, he added, "McGonagall."
Minerva grinned at him, and, feeling bold, replied, "You as well. Dumbledore."
Dumbledore chuckled, and they both turned away with the sense that, despite the unpleasantness of the hour, at least the company had been good.
Monday, 15 March 1943
The next afternoon, after classes had concluded for the day, Dumbledore met Minerva in front of the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy. They smiled at each other in greeting, and Minerva started pacing. She'd given it a lot of thought, and she knew exactly what she was going to ask for. Two doors: one for Dumbledore, to a room where he would be safe from spellfire but still be able to watch; and one for her, where she would immediately be attacked upon entering from an unexpected location. She was very specific about the kinds of spells the dummies were allowed to use, as well, but she gave them more freedom than she had in the past, considering she now had someone else with her to aid her.
When two doors appeared in the wall across from the tapestry, Dumbledore turned to Minerva with raised eyebrows. She explained, pointing, "That one is for you. You'll be able to watch me safely. I'm allowing the training dummies to use a wider variety of spells than I did before, since you're here and can revive me."
Dumbledore nodded, "Well, shall we?"
Minerva gestured towards his door, "You first."
Dumbledore complied. Once the door was shut behind him, Minerva took a deep, calming breath. I can do this, she affirmed. A small smile appeared on her face as she realized she was excited. This could be a huge step towards joining her family in the Resistance, maybe even this summer. With that in mind, Minerva gripped her wand tightly and stepped inside the Room of Requirement, through the door meant for her.
The room was dimly lit. She could not see any opponents, and, unfortunately for her, she could not use Homenum Revelio because they weren't human. She kept her ears open, listening for any sign of them, and then – a whistling sound. Minerva turned sharply in the direction of the sound and saw a jet of red light flying towards her. She simultaneously conjured a shield and dodged, and in the next second, she returned fire in the direction of the spell, towards a shadowy corner of the room. A glimmering shield appeared in that corner. Minerva fired again, twice in quick succession. Her wooden opponent rolled forward, blocking and firing back. They traded spells faster now that the dummy had come out into the open. It had a wide range of motion, allowing it to move like a human opponent would despite the fact that it was on wheels rather than on feet. They moved around each other, dodging and twisting out of the way of the other's spells, but ultimately, Minerva stilled the dummy with a well-placed Stunner after cleaving through its shield.
She didn't have a moment to breathe, though, because the second her first opponent stopped moving, she was alerted to another opponent by the faint whistling sound of a spell slicing through the air. Minerva whirled around and dodged quickly, returning fire. This opponent pushed her harder than the last, casting spells more rapidly. Her Shield Charms did not last long, forcing her to rely more on dodging even when she was sure she recognized the incoming spell as one she knew how to shield against. She did her best to keep up, firing spells of her own more quickly, trying to get the best of her new opponent.
This opponent was soon joined by another dummy. Minerva first noticed movement in her peripheral vision, as the dummy tried to move closer to her before firing. In one swift movement, she stepped out of the way of a burst of spells and turned towards the newest opponent, casting a Stunning Spell. It blocked her spell with a shield. Minerva was now forced to manage two opponents. This was something Merrythought had been making them practice more of in Dueling Club recently, though, so she took on the challenge gamely. The newest dummy attacked with a broader range, making it harder to dodge its spells. Minerva fell into a rhythm of dodging from one dummy and shielding against the other, and then, once she felt like her opponents should have been comfortable with her being on the defensive, she started attacking. Her newest opponent fell almost immediately to this sudden rapid-fire spellcasting, to her delight.
She turned on the other one with fresh determination, but this opponent was up to the challenge. At one point, while Minerva was shielding, she watched as her opponent directed its faux wand away from her, although no spell visibly came out of the wand. Almost like a – Minerva's eyes widened, and she turned her head sharply. She dodged just in time. Her foe had revived her original opponent. When she turned back to face the opponent that had revived it, her eyes widened to see the third training dummy also moving again. Minerva took several steps back to put them all within her range of vision, but they were still too much for her.
Minerva conjured a large rock and dove behind it as a cover. The dummies fired at her rock. Some fragments chipped away, but it held strong. She peered around it briefly, narrowly avoiding a rock to the face as a spell blew away a chunk of her safety. Minerva got onto her knees and started firing around her rock, peering up and around it as she did so. Her opponents were closing in on her. She needed to take them out quickly. It would be disastrous for her if she allowed them to box her in.
Taking a deep breath, Minerva tried to listen for their locations. One sounded closer than the others, on her left, non-dominant side. Minerva readied her wand and stuck her head above the rock, grimacing as some of it exploded in her face but squinting through the dust nonetheless, and pointed her wand to her leftmost opponent, blasting it off the floor. It fell on its back about ten feet away and did not get up. Minerva ducked again and clung to the right wall of her rock. Her heart pounded, and her shoulders heaved visibly. Adrenaline still ran through her veins, though, powering her forward. Minerva took one last deep breath and sprang from behind her rock, aiming at her nearest opponent's wheels and sending it spinning across the floor. She rose to her full height and engaged the remaining opponent. With a shout of determination, she slipped a Stunner past its defenses.
The dummy she'd sent spinning was just beginning to regain control, but she didn't give it the time. It quickly fell to a Stunning Spell, too. Once that opponent stilled, the room grew brighter so that it was more naturally lit. Minerva turned, looking for Dumbledore; she hadn't asked the room to change the lighting, so he must have. She found him behind her, walking towards her. Her heart leapt to see a smile on his face, and she laughed delightedly when he started to clap.
"Very well done, McGonagall," he said.
"Thank you," Minerva replied, inclining her head.
"Your opponents were fascinating," he said, stepping close to the first one and scrutinizing it. "It was as though they had minds of their own."
"It is amazing, truly," Minerva agreed. "I asked the Room for opponents that would cast Minor Burning, Stinging, and Cutting Hexes, along with the Stunning Spell, the Full Body-Bind Curse, the Impediment Jinx. Though, I didn't include the Reviving Charm on my list…" she remarked with a frown.
"That was my doing," he confessed with a grin.
Minerva's eyebrows shot up, "Ah, well that makes much more sense. Thank you for that. It was unexpected."
"So, you did have an idea of what they were going to do, then?" he asked.
"Well, I did ask that I start with just one, but once I defeated that opponent, the Room could take control. I only specified that I did not want more than two opponents," at that, she smirked at him, "although it seems I was overruled in that regard."
Dumbledore chuckled, "My apologies." He glanced around at the three training dummies and said, "If I may, I'd like to offer you some suggestions."
"Of course," Minerva replied, though her heart leapt anxiously.
"I saw you fall into a rhythm at one point when you were fighting two opponents at once," he began. Minerva nodded. "You ended up turning that on them and using it to lull them into a false sense of security, which was good, but I do caution you against falling into the same trap. Not unlike the way you fell for your own trick on the Quidditch pitch on Saturday."
Minerva laughed nervously at that.
"You also tended to mold your dueling style to match your opponents, which I found very interesting," Dumbledore continued. "I think it is a great asset to be so adaptable, but if you are dueling like your opponent, you make it easier for them to anticipate what you might do. Mimicry is a helpful tool when you are learning how to duel, and so I can understand how you've picked it up, but it is also important to remember to be unpredictable."
"That makes sense."
Dumbledore smiled kindly at her, "I don't mean to discourage you. I truly am impressed with what I witnessed, and not just because of what this room can do." Minerva smiled a little more genuinely at him at that. "I have only one more note."
Minerva nodded bravely.
"I was pleased to see you use Transfiguration in your duel, and I hope you become comfortable with incorporating more of it in the future. Transfiguration is a wonderful way to be unpredictable. Your particular usage of Transfiguration, though, is one that I would advise you to take caution when using. When you conjure a hiding place for yourself, you are essentially sticking a flag in the ground and announcing where you're going to be. Relying on that cover can become a trap of your own invention. Can you think, though, of any way that you can use your opponent's expectation of finding you there to your advantage?"
Minerva considered his question seriously. How to turn such a situation into a trap for her opponent? She could have unexpected allies with her, but where would she have gotten them? No, he'd meant something she could do alone. She considered waiting for them to come around her hiding place, simply prepared to strike, but as she envisioned the rock that she'd used, she imagined all the different ways they could have come upon her and realized that route was not practical. Then, an answer came to her that clicked into place with cool certainty, and she said, "I could not be there."
He smiled, and she knew, proudly, that she'd said the right thing. He replied, "And how would you accomplish that?"
"I could cast a Disillusionment Charm on myself," she answered. She continued thoughtfully, "I could stay there and wait for them to try to ambush me, and use their confusion – no, that wouldn't work, because as soon as I cast a spell they'd know I hadn't gone anywhere and I'd be trapped. No, I'd have to actually not be there. So I would have to have a good enough Disillusionment Charm, or a good enough cover for its imperfections, to escape from my hiding place and attack them from a new location."
"That's exactly what I would do," he said, smiling. Minerva smiled back, gratified. Dumbledore continued, "I do want to reiterate that I am impressed by what I've seen here today. Taking on multiple opponents is no small feat, and you did it with great intuition and skill. You should be proud."
"Thank you," Minerva said, grinning. And she did feel like her heart might burst with pride.
Dumbledore smiled back, "And, it shows that you've studied under Galatea Merrythought. I saw you use some of her techniques."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"You should," he agreed. As silence fell between them, he checked his watch. "I suppose I should start heading back to my office to prepare to go, 'somewhere in France,' as you say."
Minerva laughed, "I suppose you should." As they turned and walked out of the Room of Requirement together, she asked conversationally, "Have you dueled Professor Merrythought?"
"Oh yes, many times," he replied. He glanced over at her, raising his eyebrows, "She was my Defense Against the Dark Arts professor too, you know."
Minerva's eyebrows shot up, "Really?"
"Well, from my fifth year onward. But yes, she came to Hogwarts while still participating in dueling tournaments, and it was very exciting to have someone of her celebrity around. Except, of course, when she was humiliating all of us in her lessons," he said with a grin.
Minerva laughed, "I suppose her teaching style hasn't changed much, then."
"It works, doesn't it?" he returned, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
"Oh, absolutely," she agreed. "I've learned so much from her."
Dumbledore nodded, "Yes, Hogwarts is very lucky to have her."
A comfortable silence fell between them as they descended the stairs together. Minerva thought privately to herself that Hogwarts was very lucky to have him, too.
"How did your meeting with Dumbledore go?" Poppy asked Minerva as they settled into their armchairs around the fireplace in the Room of Requirement after dinner.
Minerva smiled, "Good, it went really good, I think. He said he was impressed, and not just by what the Room could do."
"Of course he was impressed!" Rolanda scoffed, but she then grinned at her friend. "There's a reason Merrythought always has you dueling seventh-years."
"Yes, but while we're not surprised because you are so incredibly impressive," Pomona said with a smile, "I'm sure it was still nice to receive that kind of praise."
"It was," Minerva agreed, nodding. "He did give me a few pointers, a few ways to improve, but he also asked me to think of some of the improvements on my own. It feels like he believes that I have the capacity to think that way already, that he believes in me."
"What, Dumbledore believes in you? No!" Poppy exclaimed. Pomona laughed.
"That's huge news, Min, we would've never suspected," Rolanda drawled, smirking.
Minerva rolled her eyes and conjured pillows to banish into their faces. This sent all three of her friends into fits of laughter. Minerva rested her elbow on the arm of her chair and put her forehead in her hand, shaking her head, but she was grinning.
As their laughter died down, Minerva said, "Truthfully, though, I think we're becoming…friends, maybe."
"Friends? You and Dumbledore?" Pomona asked. Rolanda and Poppy raised their eyebrows.
Minerva nodded, "Yes. Yesterday morning, you know, when we—" her friends nodded, "—right, so he pointed out that I'd stopped calling him 'sir.' I hadn't even realized, but he says he's noticed it since the attack on Eve and Jason. And he said he didn't mind, as long as I made an effort to say it around others, and he called me McGonagall. Like a colleague, or…apprentice."
"There it is!" Rolanda laughed. "Dumbledore's apprentice, the deepest desire of Minerva's heart."
"Don't make me banish another pillow at you," Minerva scoffed, rolling her eyes and irritated that her cheeks felt treacherously warm.
"Do you think he's going to ask you?" Pomona asked.
Minerva shrugged, though her heart fluttered hopefully, "I'm not sure, he—" She stopped, eyeing Rolanda as the Slytherin started shaking her head violently, slicing her hands horizontally across her chest dramatically.
"No, no, no, that is the wrong question," Rolanda said. "You cannot rely on other people handing you what you want. If you want to be Dumbledore's apprentice, you need to ask him yourself. Honestly, I would do it before the end of this year so you can make sure he doesn't take on anyone else."
Poppy snorted, "And who else would he take on? Minerva's Transfiguration skills are clearly beyond Hogwarts level."
Rolanda shrugged, "Anything can happen. Complacency will get you nowhere."
"Did Slughorn teach you that?" Minerva asked.
"As a matter of fact, he did," Rolanda replied, straightening her back. "He has a lot of good advice for how to reach your goals and get ahead in life."
Minerva only hummed in response to that, but she did seriously consider Rolanda's words. Her heart jumped nervously as she thought about Dumbledore potentially taking on someone else as his apprentice at the end of this year. It seemed like an irrational concern, seeing as she hadn't seen him apprentice anyone while she'd been his student, but still, she was anxious. He was stretched thin, after all. He might be considering an apprentice as a good option for divvying up his workload, someone to do the tedious marking for him while he worked on more important things.
"Now look what you've done," Poppy said, shooting Rolanda an admonishing look. "She's not going to be able to stop stressing about missing the opportunity to be Dumbledore's apprentice."
"Good," Rolanda said. "It means she'll take her future into her own hands, then."
Poppy rolled her eyes and shot a long-suffering look at Pomona. Pomona gave Poppy an amused smile in return.
"I don't think you have too much to worry about, Minerva," Pomona said comfortingly. "I think it's good advice to go talk to him yourself and make your intentions known, but he'd be mad to take anyone else. I'm sure he knows that."
Minerva gave Pomona a tense smile, "You're right." She turned to Rolanda, and her smile grew wry. "And so are you."
"Thank you," Rolanda said primly. Minerva rolled her eyes, though she was smiling.
Sunday, 21 March 1943
As the clock struck nine Sunday night, Minerva met Dumbledore at the doors to the Entrance Hall. She felt inexplicably nervous, and clutched her black box of dew a little tighter than necessary.
"Are you excited?" Dumbledore asked her, his eyes twinkling as she came to stand in front of him.
She gave him a tense smile, "I think so."
He chuckled, "Excited and nervous?"
Minerva's smile relaxed a little at that, and she released a nervous breath of laughter.
"Let's get it over with, then," he suggested, gesturing towards the door.
Minerva led the way as they stepped outside. She looked up at the sky and smiled to see the full moon shining down at her, fully visible. It was finally time for her to progress in her project.
Dumbledore came up to stand beside her, looking up at the moon, too, with a smile on his face. "I'm sure that's a welcome sight," he murmured.
"Absolutely," she replied quietly.
They stood there, staring at the moon in silence for a few moments as Dumbledore gave her time to relax. He, too, could probably use a moment to slow down his thoughts and appreciate nature. They both tilted their heads backwards, listening to the sounds of crickets, frogs, and owls creating a symphony in the night air. After a few moments of quiet contemplation, Dumbledore glanced over at Minerva and offered her a large phial. She glanced down at it with a small smile, and accepted it.
With one last glance up at the full moon, she released an anxious sigh and said, "This is it." He nodded encouragingly. She took a deep breath, worked her jaw a bit, raised the phial to her lips, and spit. Dumbledore smiled at the sight of the impressively-intact Mandrake leaf, coated in her saliva but otherwise hardly looking like it had just spent an entire moon cycle in her mouth. Minerva held it up and examined the leaf. She met his eyes around the phial and said, "I think I took good care of it, hmm?"
He chuckled, his hands in his pockets, "You certainly did."
Minerva smiled and lowered the phial. She now reached up to her head and plucked one of her hairs. Dumbledore lit his wand and pointed it at the phial, providing her with more light to ensure the black strand made it into the phial. She murmured a thank-you, and then met his eyes expectantly.
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at her nonchalantly, "Now, do you have the chrysalis?"
Minerva blanched, her blood running cold as panic started making her heart beat rapidly. She insisted, "You were supposed to bring it." She'd have to start over. She'd have to do it all again. Oh, Oliver is going to be furious.
Suddenly, Dumbledore's serious expression broke into a grin, and he pulled another phial out of the pocket of his robes. Minerva released a huge sigh of relief as he said laughingly, "I'm joking, I'm joking!"
Minerva's nostrils flared and she glared pointedly at him as he handed over the second phial. Carefully sliding the chrysalis into the phial with her hair and Mandrake leaf, Minerva shook her head and said, "Oh, you are lucky you are my professor, sir, or you would be finding yourself on the wrong end of my wand right now." Dumbledore only laughed harder at that.
Now with the chrysalis safely inside the new phial, Minerva looked up at him, watching him laugh. Laughter, unfortunately for her, was infectious, and her own lips started twitching treacherously as she looked at him. It warmed her heart to see him laugh, considering how stressed she knew he must be over the war and the Chamber of Secrets. She'd rather him not be laughing at her expense, but she supposed the fact that he felt comfortable making such a joke with her at all was a good sign. He grinned to see her smiling at him, though she shook her head.
"I'm sorry," he said.
Minerva quirked an eyebrow at him, "You don't look sorry at all."
His eyes twinkled. They were silent for a moment, until another bark of laughter escaped his throat. Minerva sighed in exasperation, but couldn't help but start laughing, too.
This bout of laughter died down faster than the first, and Dumbledore sighed, "Alright, alright." He handed her a silver spoon from his pocket. "Time for the dew."
"We'll need to be quiet while I put it in, until it's in the box," she reminded him with a pointed look.
"Yes, ma'am," he replied with a grin.
Shaking her head but smiling in spite of herself, Minerva handed him back the phial he'd brought the chrysalis in, which he stowed away in his pocket, and then asked him to hold her phial with her ingredients. She retrieved one of the vials of dew from her black box and poured some of it into her silver spoon. Dumbledore held the phial steady as she poured the dew into it with the spoon. He stoppered it for her, and Minerva emptied the vials of extra dew. They traded, and Minerva put her phial of the Animagus Mixture into the light-proof, sound-proof black box.
Once the lid was closed, Dumbledore smiled and said, "That's it."
Minerva released a shaky breath, but smiled too, "For at least a month."
"Yes, and then we truly do need Mother Nature's cooperation," he chuckled. Minerva grimaced. He assured her, "We're coming upon the spring and summer months. I wouldn't be too worried about the probability of a lightning storm."
"I'm sure you're right," Minerva said, though she was still nervous.
He smiled at her reassuringly, and then nodded his head back towards the doors, "Let's go inside. You should put your box somewhere safe."
As they walked inside and headed for the stairs together, Minerva said, "Thank you for getting Alexander to cover my patrol shift tonight."
"Well, I thought it was the least he could do, considering only you and Miss Abbott have been taking on an extra shift each week for Miss York," Dumbledore replied. "You can't control when the full moon is."
"No, that's Luna's domain," she joked. She glanced over at Dumbledore, and, noticing his thoughtfully perplexed look, added in a whisper, "Mine's wisdom."
"Oh!" Dumbledore gasped softly in understanding, and then laughed. "That's funny."
"Clearly not funny enough," she drawled, but an amused smile graced her lips.
He chuckled, "Forgive me, Luna is a common wizarding name. I thought I'd forgotten a student."
Minerva laughed, "I'm sure it's hard—"
"—Professor!"
Minerva and Dumbledore turned on the platform between the second and third floors. Fifth-year Slytherin Alphard Black was running towards them down a second-floor corridor, his pale skin in even starker contrast with his black hair than usual. Minerva's heart leapt to her throat, the instinctive query about what he was doing out of bed at this hour dying there.
"Professor!" Alphard gasped, stopping in the archway between his corridor and the Hall of Staircases and resting heavily against it. He pointed behind him and said, "Aisley – I found her – I think she's been attacked!"
"Show me," Dumbledore said immediately, drawing his wand. Alphard turned and started walking quickly back in the direction he came from. Dumbledore followed close behind, his burgundy robes swishing around him, and Minerva walked right along with him, clutching her box with the Animagus Mixture tightly. Alphard led them to the next corridor, where a female figure stood beneath a sconce. As they drew nearer, Minerva recognized her as Aisley Locke, a fifth-year Ravenclaw, frozen in place and holding up a compact mirror. Minerva imagined she'd been using the light from the sconce to check her face, perhaps before meeting the very boy who'd come to get them. She remembered seeing them snogging at the beginning of the school year, all the way back in September. But, she realized, glancing over at him now, he was a Black. His sister was Walburga, the same girl who'd been laughing about David Crowley getting petrified. Did that mean that Aisley was not Muggle-born? Would this be the first exception to that common trend?
As Dumbledore examined Aisley with a frown, poking and prodding with his wand, Minerva asked, "Alphard? Is Aisley Muggle-born?"
Alphard blinked around at her, perhaps not even realizing until now that she was there. Once he registered the question, he scowled at her, "Why, because you can't imagine a Black dating a Muggle-born?"
"I was only ask—" Minerva began defensively, color rising to her cheeks.
"Yes, she's Muggle-born," he snapped.
Minerva decided to wait quietly for Dumbledore's verdict after that. Alphard stood stiffly beside her. Mercifully soon, Dumbledore straightened and turned to them with a grave expression. "Miss Locke is exhibiting the same symptoms as the other victims." His eyes darted between the two students standing in front of him. "I will need to take her to the Hospital Wing, but I also need to see you both safely to your common rooms. Miss McGonagall, I do apologize for keeping you out later than we'd planned, but—"
"—It's alright, sir," she interjected, with a small, understanding smile.
He nodded stiffly, and then turned back to Aisley to levitate her. Minerva kept her own wand out as Dumbledore led the way back to the Hall of Staircases. They all walked in silence down the stairs, feeling tense. Minerva wondered how recently Aisley had been petrified. It was chilling to think they might have just missed her attacker. She imagined that Aisley and Alphard had arranged a time to meet, and couldn't envision Aisley waiting very long for him before that time.
In the Entrance Hall, they ran into three patrolling Prefects, including the Head Girl. She was the one who addressed them as she took in the scene with wide eyes, "Professor! Was there—?"
"—another attack, yes, Miss Scott," Dumbledore replied with a grimace. He paused, and Minerva and Alphard came to a halt behind him. "Have you three seen anything unusual tonight?"
"No, sir," Gloria replied quickly, looking pale. "We haven't seen anyone since we hurried along the library stragglers."
Dumbledore's nostrils flared, and the way his beard twitched, Minerva imagined he was grimacing. "Well, be careful. Keep your ears open and wands drawn when turning corners."
The two Prefects and the Head Girl nodded anxiously. With one last, long, regretful look their way, Dumbledore turned away and continued on towards the Hospital Wing with Minerva and Alphard in tow. Once there, Dumbledore walked directly towards the four beds in the back corner concealed behind curtains. "Miss McGonagall?" Minerva, who'd been staring at those curtains, turned quickly in his direction just in time to watch him jerk his head towards the door to Madam Jenison's office and, presumably, her private quarters beyond, "Can you knock on that door, please?"
Minerva, eager to help, walked quickly over to the door to do as she'd been asked, and then waited tensely by the door, unsure of what else to do. Dumbledore lowered Aisley onto the bed nearest the four concealed ones. Alphard sat on the edge of the bed, still looking rather pale. Dumbledore started summoning rolling dividers towards Aisley's bed to give her the privacy the other victims had. Minerva started wringing her hands anxiously. She wasn't sure why she was still so affected by these attacks. Perhaps it was the fear of the unknown, the uncertainty of who or what was the danger, and the helplessness that came along with not knowing. Minerva grimaced. Yes, that was it.
Finally, after what felt to Minerva like an agonizingly long time, the door to Madam Jenison's office swung open. The school matron, with her grey hair down and a dressing gown on, stood in the doorway and asked, "Miss McGonagall? What's happened?"
"There's been another attack," Minerva replied swiftly, gesturing over to Aisley's bed. Madam Jenison grimaced. Minerva stepped aside so the mediwitch could examine her newest resident.
"Who is it this time, Albus?" Madam Jenison asked briskly as she approached the bed.
"Aisley Locke, a fifth-year Ravenclaw," he replied.
"Muggle-born?"
"Yes."
Minerva approached the group and saw Dumbledore and Madam Jenison exchange a significant look. Madam Jenison's eyes then turned back on Aisley. Her face softened, and she sighed, "Well, you know there's nothing I can do for her except give her a place to rest her head, though I doubt she feels comfortable in the slightest."
"If it's any consolation, I have every reason to believe they all feel nothing at all," Dumbledore said gently.
"Small consolation," Madam Jenison muttered. Shaking her head, she put her hands on her hips and turned back to Dumbledore, "Well, then, off with you. You should be getting these two to their beds, I expect. And yourself, I hope."
Dumbledore met Madam Jenison's stern, motherly gaze with a small smile, "Have a good night, Mary. I apologize for waking you."
Madam Jenison waved him off, "Oh, I wasn't sleeping yet." She turned to Alphard and said, "Come on, then. You can visit her in the morning, she's not going anywhere, I promise you."
Alphard scowled, but he stood. Dumbledore led the way back out of the Hospital Wing, and once again, they walked in a tense silence. Alphard's mood affected companions', leaving everyone on edge. Minerva, trying to lighten the situation, said to Alphard, "She's going to be alright."
"Yes, that's what we've been hearing since Halloween," Alphard scoffed. "'They're going to be alright. The cure takes time.' Alright then, but what about who's doing this? They should've been caught by now! Everyone's acting like it's – it's a shadow, a specter, a ghost that never shows itself, but it's not! Someone – something tangible is doing this to people!"
"I understand your frustration," Dumbledore said quietly. He'd slowed his pace so he fell into step beside Alphard, and now looked down at the teen with a sympathetic expression. "We are doing everything we can—"
"What, then?" Alphard interjected. Minerva raised her eyebrows, grimacing at his tone. "How can a dozen fully-qualified wizards be doing everything they can and still – still fail?"
He pushed ahead of them, taking the lead as they walked through the dungeons. Dumbledore called, "Mr. Black, I implore you to stay with us."
Alphard slowed his walk, but his hands were still balled into fists. Minerva glanced over at Dumbledore, wondering how he'd respond to what Alphard had said. If he'd respond. This year, Minerva had already learned the answer simply through observation. She wondered if he would teach Alphard this lesson. Dumbledore turned his head towards her, meeting her eyes. She saw a tiredness there, an exhaustion that made her heart go out to him.
The moment lasted only for a second, though, for almost as soon as Dumbledore had looked her way, he looked forward again, and said, "To answer your question, Mr. Black, it's because people are fallible. Your professors are not as omnipotent as we'd like you to believe. I assure you, though, we are doing the best we can, and we will continue to work towards finding out who or what is behind these attacks."
Alphard said nothing to that, though his jaw was set into a hard line. No one said anything until they reached the nondescript stretch of wall that concealed the entrance to the Slytherin common room. Alphard glanced behind him at Minerva distrustfully. Dumbledore correctly guessed the fifth-year's hesitation, saying, "Miss McGonagall is a Prefect. She already knows your password."
Still scowling, Alphard turned back to the wall and muttered, "Potentia serpentis." The door to the Slytherin common room appeared, and he reached for it without a word.
"Have a good—" Dumbledore began, but Alphard shut the door behind him.
Sighing, Dumbledore gestured back down the corridor they'd come from. As they walked away, Minerva felt some relief at leaving the black cloud that had been looming over Alphard behind them.
"You didn't punish him," she commented.
"He's punishing himself enough," he replied simply. "He blames himself."
"How do you know?" she asked.
Dumbledore sighed, "Ah, well, I've seen his behavior before. I've been him. And being a teacher for nearly thirty-five years helps."
I've been him. Sandwiched between two nonchalant, generic phrases, he'd said something deeply personal that struck a chord with Minerva. Goosebumps raised on her arms. She wondered what he'd once blamed himself for. Dumbledore, though, remained completely casual as he walked beside her, as if he hadn't said anything surprising at all. They walked on in silence, up out of the dungeons and past the basement, up the grand staircase and into the Hall of Staircases. As they walked, Minerva's mind wandered, pondering all the things that had happened since the last time she and Dumbledore mounted these stairs. It felt so long ago since she'd created her Animagus Mixture, but yet, she was still carrying it, because she hadn't even been able to bring it back to her dorm. In particular, she thought about leaving Gloria Scott and two other Prefects behind after revealing to them there'd been another attack. Minerva hadn't felt quite comfortable doing that, and she realized that she didn't feel quite comfortable with Prefects patrolling in this environment at all. She glanced beside her at Dumbledore, who looked similarly contemplative, and decided that he needed to know what was on her mind. He would know that it wasn't a criticism, necessarily. Still, Minerva couldn't help but feel nervous about voicing this thought.
"Professor?" Minerva began hesitantly.
Dumbledore glanced over at her with raised brows, "Is it 'professor,' again?"
Minerva smiled lightly, "I'm about to say something impertinent, so I thought I'd soften the blow."
He laughed out loud at that, "More impertinent than usual? I'm intrigued."
A huff of laughter escaped Minerva's lips, but her smile faded nervously. She plowed forward, though, and said, "I don't think it's a good idea to have students patrolling."
Dumbledore didn't say anything immediately to that, but Minerva did note that his expression was serious. He nodded, and said, "It seemed like a better idea when it was simply one attack, when we thought we would ensure it wouldn't happen again, when we thought doing that would give us control over the situation. Now…I agree. It doesn't make sense." He sighed. They climbed up a few stairs in silence, both thoughtful, until Dumbledore continued, "My one consolation is that all of the victims seem to have been caught unawares. If that is a key ingredient, students on patrol should be safe. But it is too big of a 'should' to risk the safety of students upon."
Minerva nodded. She didn't want to have to outright ask if that meant the patrols were going to stop, but she was anxious to know. They walked up a few more stairs in silence as Minerva waited patiently to see if he'd say something about that himself. Dumbledore did, eventually, speak again, though he did not say what she'd been anticipating: "You feel unsafe?"
Minerva hesitated, feeling slightly un-Gryffindor, but nodded slowly. Dumbledore nodded in return, "A silly question. Of course you feel unsafe." He sighed, but nodded more surely. "I will speak with the Headmaster about discontinuing Prefect patrols."
They said nothing more to each other, both lost in thought as they contemplated this new attack and the ramifications of stopping Prefect patrols, until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.
"You two again," the Fat Lady remarked as they approached. "At least the hour is more reasonable, though you should still be in Gryffindor Tower already, young lady. Out after hours? But no, that boy would be—"
"—We were finishing the next step of my project, is all," Minerva interjected, her face coloring. Clearing her throat uncomfortably, she turned to Dumbledore and said, "Have a good night, Professor Dumbledore."
She tried not to read into the amused look he gave her as he replied, inclining his head, "Have a good night, Miss McGonagall."
With that, Minerva turned away from him and gave the Fat Lady the password.
"There you are!"
As soon as she'd stepped into the common room, Oliver's voice rang out from across the room. Minerva's stomach knotted anxiously; he'd been waiting for her to get back. With the Mandrake leaf gone they would finally be able to kiss again, but after the night she'd had, Minerva was in no mood to kiss him. Oliver, though, was approaching her with a boyish grin on his face. As he reached out for her, she instinctively recoiled. His smile faltered and he asked, "Minerva? What's wrong?" She glanced down at the black box in her hands containing her Animagus Mixture. "Did something go wrong? Do you have to start over?"
At the sound of rising panic in his voice, Minerva shook her head abruptly. "No. No. There…," Minerva took a deep breath and met his eyes again with a grimace, "there was another attack."
Oliver looked around the common room; she imagined he was taking stock of his friends.
"It was Aisley Locke, a fifth-year Ravenclaw."
His face scrunched in confusion, "Is she Muggle-born? Isn't she with Alphard Black?"
"She is, on both accounts. Alphard was the one who found her. I asked him. He took issue with me assuming he wouldn't date a Muggle-born, but he confirmed she was," Minerva replied. She glanced back down at her box awkwardly, and said, "I should put this in a safe place."
"Alright. Will you come back down?" he asked. Minerva met his eyes and saw him look hopefully at her. He reached for her hand, brushing his fingers gently against hers.
She gave him a tense smile. "I don't know, I'm very tired…"
Oliver looked down at their barely touching hands, his face falling. Minerva did feel a little bad about disappointing him. She knew he'd hoped for a much happier physical reunion now that they could kiss again. In an effort to make it up to him, if only a little, Minerva placed her hand gently on his cheek, guiding his head up. She gave him a small smile as their eyes met, and then she drew his face closer to hers, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. His hands came up to grip her waist and he kissed her back. She pulled away as he started getting too eager, though his lips followed her briefly as she moved away from him. She used her hand on his cheek to hold him in place, and once they were separated, Minerva gave him a knowing little smile. Oliver pouted, but she was pleased to see a happy twinkle in his brown eyes. She nuzzled his nose and then drew away completely, stepping out of his embrace.
"I'll see you tomorrow, alright?" she said quietly.
He nodded, "See you tomorrow. Goodnight, Minerva. I love you."
"Goodnight. I love you, too," she replied. She squeezed his hand one last time before turning away to head up the stairs to the sixth-year girls' dormitory.
Monday, 22 March 1943
The next morning, Minerva awoke to the sound of her wand vibrating on her bedside table a few minutes before the time the Prophet had given for sunrise. She quickly reached for it, silencing it and sitting up in bed. Her heart pounded anxiously. This morning she would begin the next step of the process for the Animagus transformation, which she would need to keep up with at sunrise and sunset for at least a month. A little nervous and a lot excited, Minerva reached for her reading glasses and the book Poppy had given her for her birthday on the Animagus transformation. She knew the spell she'd need to recite by heart, but she was anxious enough about making sure everything was perfect that she wanted to read the words as she said them. It was a bit of a tongue-twister, and one slip-up could ruin her entire project.
Minerva took a deep breath, pushed her square-framed reading glasses up the bridge of her nose, and opened her book to the marked page. Her eyes found the words of the spell easily. She read them in her head several times, taking deep, calming breaths. Eventually, she nodded to herself comfortingly, placed the tip of her wand over her heart, and said, "Amato Animo Animato Animagus."
From the tip of her wand, she felt a ball of warmth, but just the ghost of a feeling of warmth, like a memory, rather than a radiating sunshine sort of warmth. That hint of warmth spread slowly from her heart throughout her body: up her shoulders, down her arms, throughout her abdomen, down her legs, filling her head, tickling her nose and ears and tongue and eyes, and reaching all the way to the tips of her fingers and toes. The sensation brought a smile to her face and took her breath away. It felt good; it felt right. It brought tears to her eyes, taking her by surprise. She hadn't expected to get emotional on day one of reciting the spell. She laughed softly to herself as she reached up to wipe her eyes. Even though it was only day one of this stage, even though she still had a long way to go before she completed the transformation, she already knew that this was the best thing she'd ever done.