Moaning

Tuesday, 8 June 1943

"…oh, I simply can't believe it!" Poppy gushed, red in the face in her joy with a huge grin. She was pacing in front of a fireplace in the Room of Requirement, while Minerva and Rolanda lounged on couches. They hadn't produced their usual room because they'd found having an empty chair for Pomona dampened their mood considerably. "I mean, do you even understand? This means that she's going to be short an apprentice for an entire year while she waits for me to graduate! She's going to wait for me! And Rolanda, it's all because of what you said about asking for what you want."

Minerva's smile was a bit forced at that. She was happy for her friend for receiving official confirmation from Madam Jenison about an apprenticeship, truly, but hearing her say those words sent a pang through her heart as she remembered Dumbledore might not wait for her. She hadn't yet told her friends about the sort of limbo she was in, waiting to hear from Dumbledore about whether or not he could wait, whether or not they could come up with some compromise, perhaps, where he could get the help he needed and she could get the education and experience she deserved. She'd avoided saying anything because she didn't want to hear Rolanda say I told you so, but now, watching Rolanda turn a significant look on her, completely oblivious to her pain, Minerva thought that it might have been a good idea after all to confide in her friends. Right now, though, she knew she couldn't say anything. She didn't want to bring Poppy down.

"I can't wait to tell Nathan! I think I'm going to go find him right now, do you mind?" Poppy asked, her eyes bright and eager.

Rolanda waved her off, "No, of course not, go ahead."

Minerva's heart pounded as she waved goodbye to her friend. She supposed this was a perfect opportunity to talk to Rolanda, though she was nervous now that it had fallen into her lap so suddenly and unexpectedly.

As the door shut behind Poppy, Rolanda turned to Minerva with a raised brow and drawled, "You know, you could learn a thing or two from Poppy."

Minerva pursed her lips and rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. Quietly, she replied, "But I did talk to Dumbledore."

"You did? When?" Rolanda asked, surprised.

Minerva bit her lip. She was frustrated at the way her emotions were starting to get the best of her. This was something that was so important to her, yes, but she wished she wouldn't end up on the verge of tears every time she thought about potentially not having the opportunity of her dreams. Minerva cleared her throat and said, "About two weeks ago."

"Two weeks? Why haven't you said anything?" Rolanda exclaimed, sitting upright on her couch. Minerva didn't reply immediately. Rolanda got up off her couch and walked over to Minerva's, perching herself on the edge by Minerva's legs. She looked concerned, now, "Minerva?"

Minerva couldn't look at her. Her nostrils flared as she sucked in a breath, trying to keep herself together. "Because he said he's not sure he can wait a year for me. Because he's been receiving 'external pressure' to take one on from this graduating class."

"Oh, Min…" Rolanda murmured, reaching forward and grasping Minerva's hand tightly. Minerva blinked furiously. "I'm so sorry."

"You were right," Minerva choked. "I should have listened to you. I should have—"

"Don't," Rolanda murmured, squeezing her hand. "Look, if he's receiving external pressure, it might not have made any difference in this case."

"At least I would have known," Minerva whispered. "I wouldn't have been carrying on like a stupid little privileged pureblood girl who thinks the world will fall into place at her will."

"Minerva." Rolanda squeezed her hand again, though there was laughter in her voice now. "You are not stupid, thank Merlin, or little – I hate to break it to you, but you're a giant of a woman—" Minerva snorted, rubbing her hands over her face, "—and maybe you're privileged, sure, oh well, but I would not say being a pureblood defines you. You don't act like one. I would know, all my bloody dormmates are the worst kind of purebloods. Regardless, despite what I've been advising you to do, I'll admit I did privately agree that it was unlikely that Dumbledore would take on anyone else. I don't think it was stupid of you at all to assume that he would be your post-graduation plan."

Minerva pressed her lips together firmly as her heart warmed to her best friend. She conjured a handkerchief and brought it to her eyes, wiping away the rebellious tears that had leaked out of the corners. "You're not going to say 'I told you so'?" Minerva mumbled.

Rolanda laughed, "Would you like me to?" Minerva lifted her head enough to give Rolanda a withering look, at which Rolanda merely grinned. "No, I'm not. Of course I'm not. That would only make you feel worse, and like I said, I'm not sure asking sooner would have made any difference."

Minerva laid her head back down on the couch and sighed.

They were quiet for a moment while Rolanda rubbed circles on the back of Minerva's hand with her thumb. Eventually, though, Rolanda asked quietly, "Is that why you didn't say anything? Because you were worried I would just say 'I told you so'?"

Minerva grimaced sheepishly, "I'm sorry, that wasn't fair to you."

"Oh, Minerva…" Rolanda sighed. "You know I'm always going to be in your corner, don't you? I'll support you through anything. I hate that you felt like you had to endure this alone."

"Well, I did tell Oliver," Minerva sniffed, though remembering her singular conversation with Oliver about her anxieties didn't exactly warm her heart.

"That's good, I'm glad," Rolanda murmured.

Minerva stared at the ceiling quietly again, reflecting on Oliver, now. They hadn't discussed how she was feeling about her situation with Dumbledore since the first night. She hadn't wanted to annoy him and he, to her dismay, hadn't asked. "Rolanda?" Minerva said quietly, a little impulsively.

"Hmm?"

"Can I think out loud?"

"Of course."

Minerva hesitated. She was afraid to say the things that were on her mind out loud. She felt as though if she did, she would give them more meaning and power, and that scared her. Still, she took a deep breath and began to talk. "I have a lot of fun with Oliver…and I'm definitely physically attracted to him. Very much so." Her words caught in her breath. Her heart was pounding.

Rolanda waited, rubbing soothing circles again on the back of Minerva's hand. After a few moments, she pressed, "I sense a 'but' coming."

Minerva nodded. "But. There are things that…worry me."

"Like what?" Rolanda asked quietly.

"Like…the fact that he hasn't once checked in with me about how I'm feeling, ever since I told him. About Dumbledore. And the way that he handled it when I told him bothered me. He didn't seem interested in why I was distracted, at first, and then I realized I was hesitant to tell him anyway because I was worried he would think the reason I was so anxious was stupid or silly. Then he said I was overreacting," Rolanda's eyebrows shot up at this, "and…I left that conversation feeling guilty for the way I'd spoken to him. Which, now that I think about it, is a little twisted."

"I'd say," Rolanda murmured, her brow furrowed.

Now that Minerva had opened the floodgates, she couldn't stop. "On multiple occasions I've felt like he's dismissive. The biggest thing that comes to mind is the way he thought about and talked about my Animagus project during the Mandrake stage, and how many arguments that caused that we never completely resolved to either of our satisfaction. He called it stupid. I never felt like he truly understood how much that hurt me, because he never fully understood how important the project was to me. When I finally achieved the transformation, he told me he was proud of me," Minerva's voice thickened as a wave of emotions started to overcome her, "and it meant so much to me at the time. Now…now I think that it did partially because I never really believed he was supportive of the project, but isn't during the project when I needed his support the most? The days I wanted to kiss him but I couldn't that were hard on me too, then the days I had to wake up early and interrupt conversations or snogging in the evening to cast the spell, worried about irritating my dormmates or being rude or an inconvenience? You know? I wish I'd had his support then, and I didn't feel like I did."

Minerva took a deep, shuddering breath, wiping away tears angrily. "And I know that's all in the past, and it's a very specific example that will never happen again, but that's not the only time I've felt like he's been dismissive. The way he talked about my preoccupation with the Chamber of Secrets, the way he tried to sweep my worries about an apprenticeship under the rug, and – and the way he dismissed my concerns about our ability to coordinate our dreams."

"Coordinate your dreams?" Rolanda asked.

"I asked him what he wanted to do after Hogwarts – career, family – and I asked some 'what if' questions that I thought were important, and he became…defensive," Minerva sniffed, pulling her hand from Rolanda's and crossing her arms over her chest. "He's not sure what he wants to do for a career yet, but he's insistent on having a job because it would be 'emasculating' if his wife was the one financially supporting him and their children."

Rolanda's eyes widened, "He actually said that?"

Minerva grimaced and nodded.

Rolanda snorted, "Artemisia Lufkin did not become the first female Minister for Magic in 1798 for wizards to be thinking that way in 1943, no thank you."

Minerva smiled weakly. Rolanda scooted up on the couch so that she was seated closer to Minerva's head and gave her a sympathetic smile. She placed a hand tenderly on Minerva's face and wiped away fresh tears with her thumb. Minerva closed her eyes tightly and sighed again. She said quietly, "I feel like I can't give up on him, though. I feel like I made a commitment to him the day…the day I decided to have sex with him. That I…I mean, didn't I decide then that this was it for me?"

Rolanda sighed and grasped one of Minerva's hands again, looking down at their entwined hands rather than at Minerva's face. She pressed her lips together, and then slowly, shook her head, "I don't think so. Of course, I understand where you're coming from. But…well, you know…you know that the day Chris was conceived wasn't the first time Rebecca and Mitchell had sex, don't you?" She glanced awkwardly up at Minerva. "I know that, Mitchell being your brother, it's probably different for you, but…Rebecca's my sister. We used to talk about things like that – relationships, sex… I received more of a sex education from Rebecca than I ever have from my mother. And you know they were always breaking up with each other and getting back together. I couldn't even keep up and Rebecca was telling me about it as it happened, so I'm sure you couldn't." Rolanda took a deep, shaky breath. "I remember the first time they broke up after they started having sex. Rebecca was gutted…but she was the one who did it. She broke up with him because she didn't like the way he was talking to her – no offense." Rolanda added quickly, glancing up at Minerva again with an apologetic grimace.

"None taken," Minerva murmured. "They were always fighting."

"The point is…what I learned from Rebecca that day was just because you make that decision to take that step with someone when the relationship is good, doesn't mean you're trapped with them when you're not happy anymore," Rolanda concluded quietly.

Minerva's face crumpled, and she pulled her hand away from Rolanda's again to cover her face. Am I unhappy? she asked herself. The wave of emotion that welled up within her at Rolanda's words seemed to think so. She hadn't dared let herself go there yet, to think that she might not be happy with Oliver anymore, but now that Rolanda had said it out loud, she knew the words resonated with her. She did feel trapped. She did feel unhappy.

"I need to talk to him," Minerva whispered. She slid her hands down her face and groaned, "Oh, fuck."

Rolanda's lips quirked in amusement, though she schooled her features quickly.

Minerva shook her head and sat up. She conjured herself a new handkerchief and wiped her face with it. She used the time it took to dry her face to take a few deep, calming breaths. Once she finished, she let her hand holding the handkerchief fall to her lap. She sat, slightly hunched over, feeling sad and afraid. Rolanda placed a hand gently on her back and started rubbing soothing circles there. Minerva let her, just sitting there with her eyes closed.

After a few minutes, Minerva opened her eyes again and said, "I want to take some time to think before I talk to him. I want to be sure of what I want to say. I want…" she swallowed and bowed her head, "I want to give us our best chance. If he…if he can own up to his dismissiveness, if he can promise to do better…maybe we'll be alright."

Rolanda bit her lip, but said nothing. When Minerva glanced up at her, she gave her a supportive smile and slid the hand that had been rubbing circles around her shoulder, pulling her into a hug. Minerva leaned into it gratefully.

Saturday, 12 June 1943

"Oliver?"

Minerva's heart was pounding. Her stomach was in knots; she felt like she might be sick. She pulled at the pendant around her neck nervously. Oblivious, Oliver turned a smile on her, raising his eyebrows questioningly. They were walking together out of the library on Saturday afternoon, after spending time with their friends working on essays. Though Minerva had been having a hard time focusing, preoccupied as she was with thoughts of the conversation that she was planning on having with Oliver, Rolanda had dutifully behaved as though nothing at all was wrong.

"Let's go for a walk around the lake," she suggested.

"Alright," he agreed, and once they reached the Entrance Hall, instead of going up the stairs they turned for the castle doors.

They walked in silence to the lake. Minerva's hand rested in the crook of his elbow so she could avoid holding his hand and revealing how sweaty her palms were. They walked along the edge of the lake for a few minutes in silence while Minerva mustered up the courage to start the conversation she was dreading.

"It's a beautiful day," Oliver commented, breaking the silence.

Minerva nodded. It was. There were other students out on the grounds enjoying the sunny weather, and peppered along the edge of the lake were a few groups of students that they would have to pass. Minerva was not looking forward to passing them while having this conversation. She was a Gryffindor, though, and so she pushed through her nerves to say, "I was hoping to talk to you about us."

"Us?" he repeated, raising his eyebrows. He gave her a playful smirk, "Am I going to be interrogated again?"

Minerva didn't smile. "That's not funny, Oliver."

Oliver's smile faltered, and he looked down at his shoes. "Alright, I'm sorry. What about?"

"Well, sort of about that," she began, her heart pounding nervously. "About how I feel as though you don't take things that bother me seriously."

"I take the things that bother you seriously," he insisted, his voice rising defensively.

"I'm only telling you how I feel, Oliver, will you please listen?" Minerva replied. Oliver's jaw snapped shut. He looked at her seriously as they continued walking. She pursed her lips and shook her head. "This is exactly what I mean. You're doing it right now. Instead of listening to the way I feel, you're getting defensive."

Oliver took a deep breath and said, "Then tell me how you feel."

"Well, for starters, I have never felt like we resolved the way I felt about how you treated me during my Animagus project," Minerva began. Oliver's mouth opened in surprise. He looked like he was about to say something, but stopped himself, instead waiting to hear what Minerva had to say. "We talked about it at length, I know, but I never felt satisfied. I felt like you didn't understand how upset I was about the way you talked about my project. That it made me feel, on a deeper level, that I couldn't talk about the project with you with the enthusiasm that I talked about it with my friends. That you wouldn't care, or be happy with me."

"Minerva, I am so proud of what you've accomplished," Oliver said quietly, frowning.

"You say that now, but I would have loved to have that validation while I was going through the project," Minerva replied, her brows knit together sadly.

"I…" he shook his head, and then sighed, "I'm sorry. If I could go back and change it, I would. But I can't, Minerva. I don't know what you want me to do about that."

"I…" she ran a hand through her hair in frustration, "I want you to acknowledge that it was wrong without acting like I'm unreasonable for being upset."

Oliver opened and closed his mouth quickly at that. They walked a few paces in silence as they passed a group of fifth-years taking a study break. Once they passed the other students, he said quietly, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made you feel that way."

"Thank you," Minerva replied quietly. She took a deep breath. Oliver bowed his head as he realized there was more, but waited patiently. "Why haven't you asked how I'm doing since I told you I was worried I wouldn't able to be Dumbledore's apprentice?"

Oliver blinked in surprise and glanced up at her with his mouth opened in a slight 'o.' "You're still upset about that?"

Minerva grimaced, "Of course I am! I told you, that's my dream apprenticeship."

"If you'd have said something—"

"—I felt like if I did, I would annoy you," Minerva interjected. "You made me feel that day like you didn't care. You told me I was overreacting and all you wanted to do was shag me!"

Oliver put his face in his hands and groaned, "But you were overreacting! There are other Transfiguration Masters out there—"

"—but only one works at Hogwarts!" Minerva snapped. Oliver shook his head, pulling his cheeks as his hands slid down his face. "This goes right back to how you don't take the things that bother me seriously, and we haven't even started to talk about the conversation we had about jobs and children."

"Merlin, Minerva," Oliver said. He said her name like a curse. "What did I do wrong then? I didn't agree to quit my hypothetical job to raise hypothetical children so you could take a hypothetical job offer?"

Minerva scowled, growing angrier, "No, actually, and you don't have to be so rude about it. I was thinking more about how you ended the conversation before I felt satisfied, while I still felt like there was more to discuss, because you wanted us to work through the problems as they come."

"And why can't we?" he asked, frustrated himself. "I don't understand why we have to make these plans now!"

"Because when you say you love someone and you want to spend the rest of your life with them, it follows that you have a few conversations about your expectations about the future! I'm not asking for us to write out a plan and set it in stone, I'm asking us to have an understanding of the other's expectations for the future of this relationship! I'm not interested in investing two years of my life into a relationship only to have it fall to pieces when we graduate and find out our plans aren't compatible!"

"Fall to – aren't – wait, are you thinking of – is that what this is?" Oliver stopped suddenly, his face going white. Minerva stopped too, dread filling her heart. He grasped her upper arms tightly and said earnestly, "Minerva, I love you."

She swallowed hard, "You aren't talking to me like you love me." He pulled away, as if burned. "You're talking to me like you're sick and tired of talking to me."

He put both of his hands behind his head and replied, "We're arguing! That doesn't mean – we love each other, we're supposed to pull through despite the arguments—"

"—but the arguments matter, Oliver, and they're making me unhappy," she interjected. She took a deep breath, her voice thickening, "I started by telling you how I was feeling because I wanted to give us a chance, but I think I knew—" her voice broke. Oliver shook his head, bringing his hand up to cover his mouth. "—I think I knew, deep down, what needs to happen."

"No, no, no, no, no," Oliver moaned, shaking his head faster. "Minerva, please don't do this, I'm sorry, we can fix this—"

Minerva swallowed back tears as she saw tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. She needed to keep it together. "Listen to us, Oliver. Do we sound like people who can fix this?"

He turned away sharply from her, stepping towards the lake with his hands over his mouth. Minerva titled her head to the sky, willing treacherous tears back into her eyes. She felt sick with herself, but something in her gut kept pushing her forward. She sucked in a deep breath as he whirled back to face her, his face white and his eyes redder than his hair, "I will do anything, anything—"

"—Oliver—"

"—we love each other—"

"—sometimes that's not enough!" she exclaimed. He jerked away, his jaw dropping open. Minerva pursed her lips, "So what if we survive this and spend another year, year and a half together? What happens when you decide you're ready to talk about marriage, and a family, and our careers, and we can't see eye to eye? What happens then?" Her voice broke, "The longer we carry on, the harder that's going to be."

Oliver turned away from her again, crouching down beside the lake. Minerva closed her eyes tightly as she heard a low moan come from him, like a wounded animal, and he began to audibly sob. She pressed her lips together tightly. Each sound that came out of his mouth pierced through her heart like a knife. This was the worst thing she'd ever done, and it made her feel physically ill.

Hesitantly, Minerva approached him, kneeling quietly beside him. He jerked his face away from her. Minerva closed her eyes, "Oliver…I'm so sorry."

He hung his head and shook it. She caught a glimpse of his red, tear-streaked face, and felt another stab of sickening pain. "That's it, then?" he asked roughly.

Minerva closed her eyes, her own head drooping. Her heart panged again. She almost couldn't get the words out. She swallowed hard, though, and nodded, "Yes. That's…that's it. I'm sorry."

"I'd like to be alone, then," he replied shortly.

Minerva nodded, slowly getting to her feet. She hesitated for a moment, staring at him hunched over the lake like that, before turning sharply away and forcing herself to put one foot in front of the other, walking back to the castle. She took deep, calming breaths all the way back, the speed of her walking increasing with each step she took. She wanted to keep it together until she was safely tucked into her own bed, with the curtains pulled. She walked quickly, not wanting to encounter anyone—

"—Minerva!"

Minerva's heart sunk. She turned away from the grand staircase, which she'd been about to climb and, dread filling her stomach, faced Donnie Longbottom.

"Was Augusta outside, I couldn't – are you alright?" Donnie's face went from casually pleasant to concerned in an instant as he drew near enough to her to see the slight reddening around her eyes.

Minerva's jaw clenched and she averted her gaze. She could not bear sympathy from Oliver's best friend, not after what she'd done. "You should – you should talk to Oliver. He's sitting by the lake." With that, she turned abruptly back to the stairs and started running up them, her robes lifted over her feet.

She did not make it to her bed before the tears started coming, but she walked quickly past anyone she came across with her head bowed. To her relief, her dorm room was empty when she arrived. She threw herself onto her bed and, with a wave of her wand, shut her curtains. She curled into a ball and finally let the tears flow freely. She felt her emotions like a physical pain. Her whole body ached and her stomach twisted as she sobbed into her pillow. Part of her wanted to run downstairs and take it all back, to beg for his forgiveness and hold him tight and never let go. Good memories kept assaulting her, stabbing at her – the sight of his smile, the sound of his laughter, flying beside him, making love to him, the box full of sentimentality he kept under his bed – torturing her. But another part of her, the persistent, rational part of her brain that never rested, even in a situation like this, whispered that she'd done it for a reason. She'd known in her gut what needed to happen. It was hard – perhaps the most difficult thing she'd ever done, emotionally – but she'd done it, and she needed to let it go. So, Minerva stayed in her bed, clutching her pillow, letting out all her pain.

Still, it was hard to let it go. She sat up in bed, still crying, and reached for her bookbag without completely processing what she was doing. She retrieved parchment, ink, a quill, and a book to use as a hard surface, and began to write. Dear Aunt Sylvia. Her quill paused, and she stared at the words. She desperately needed to write out her thoughts, but staring at her aunt's name made her think of her mother, and the strides they'd made towards improving their relationship. With that in mind, Minerva raised her wand, clearing the words. She dipped her quill in ink again and started over: Dear Mum…

Sunday, 13 June 1943

The next afternoon, Minerva sat with Poppy and Rolanda in the Hospital Wing next to Pomona's bed. Minerva had conjured them a bench narrow enough to fit in the space between the curtain and the bed so they could all sit together. She sat between them, and they both leaned against her supportively. Minerva rested her head over Rolanda's, staring at Pomona without seeing her, and held both Poppy's and Rolanda's hands. They said nothing to each other; there was nothing more to say. They'd given their sympathy and their support and their love. At this point, Minerva simply needed time.

"Poppy? Minerva?"

All three witches straightened and turned towards the person who'd spoke. Head Girl Gloria Scott stood hesitantly at the curtains. She glanced at her frozen housemate before turning back to the Prefects she'd come to see. "I'm sorry to bother you, but the other Ravenclaw Prefects are having a hard time finding Myrtle Warren, and I thought you'd like to know. It's probably nothing, but—"

"—of course," Poppy interjected, standing. Minerva stood too, and Poppy said quickly, "Oh, Minerva, you don't have to—"

"—I told you I'd help you with Myrtle," Minerva replied shortly. She gave Poppy a small smile and added, "I could use the distraction."

Poppy smiled sympathetically in return, "We can look together."

They glanced back at Rolanda, who looked a little reluctant to join them, "Er – I think I'll head to the library…"

"That sounds like a good idea," Minerva replied, patting her on the shoulder understandingly. Rolanda gave her a grateful smile.

As Poppy and Minerva walked with Gloria out of the Hospital Wing, Poppy asked, "When was the last time Myrtle was seen?"

Gloria grimaced, "Evidently Olive Hornby was tormenting her this morning in the Entrance Hall. She didn't appear in the Great Hall for lunch, and isn't in Ravenclaw Tower."

Poppy nodded soberly. Gloria parted from them to search on her own, and Minerva and Poppy started to make their way up the stairs.

"Where do people go when they're upset?" Poppy asked aloud.

Minerva grimaced, "Aside from their bed? Empty classrooms and toilet stalls sounded like good ideas to me yesterday."

Poppy winced, "I'm sorry."

Minerva waved her off. "That's as good a place as any to start looking. I say we do it methodically, starting here. It happened in the Entrance Hall, so it stands to reason she would've run up these stairs, perhaps thinking to go to Ravenclaw, but evidently stopping off somewhere because she couldn't make it."

Poppy nodded, "I agree."

They moved through the first floor one room at a time, checking each classroom and each lavatory stall. They didn't see any of the Ravenclaw Prefects who were allegedly also searching, but they supposed that the Ravenclaws could have started searching from their tower with the intention of making their way down. As they closed the door of the last room on the first floor after nearly an hour of searching with no luck and made their way back to the stairs, they both hoped that they ran into other Prefects sooner rather than later. Searching this thoroughly was exhausting.

On the second floor, they went through a handful of classrooms before reaching the girls' toilet. They pushed open the door with their wands raised, as they'd entered every room before, and Poppy called, "Myrtle? Are you in here?"

They received no response, but they stepped further into the room regardless. They turned the corner to examine the stalls, and saw that one of them was closed. Poppy said, "Hello? Is someone in here?"

When no one replied, Minerva and Poppy exchanged a concerned look. Minerva transformed into her Animagus form to look under the stalls, and caught a glimpse of feet under the closed door. She transformed back with a frown, approaching the door. She knocked and asked, "Are you alright in there?"

She glanced hesitantly at Poppy. With all the attacks they'd been having, she did not feel comfortable ignoring the silence. She knocked again. "If you don't respond, I'm opening this door."

A pit formed in her stomach when the person on the other side remained silent once again. She met Poppy's eyes one more time, who nodded at her. Minerva swallowed hard and flicked her wand at the lock, sliding it open. She opened the door slowly, giving the person inside one final chance to squeal for privacy. Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes landed on Myrtle Warren, slumped atop the closed toilet with tear tracks shining on her face. Minerva glanced over at Poppy, alarm rising in her chest.

Poppy peered around the stall door, and her eyes widened as her eyes landed on Myrtle. She pushed past Minerva with her wand raised, waving it in a complicated pattern that Minerva imagined must be a Diagnostic Charm, though she'd never taken Healing. Poppy's wand stilled abruptly, and Minerva's eyes flicked nervously to her face. Poppy had gone sheet white.

"Poppy?" Minerva whispered, her heart pounding.

Poppy was shaking. She waved her wand again, though her movements were not as precise this time. "No…" she whispered.

"Poppy!" Minerva cried in alarm as Poppy's knees buckled under her, and reached forward to catch her elbow, holding her up.

"She's dead," Poppy whispered.

Minerva's own face went white. Her stomach dropped, and her heart skipped a beat. "Wh-what?"

Poppy's face crumpled, and a shaking hand came up to cover her mouth. She started nodding absently.

Minerva's brain felt sluggish. She couldn't believe it, couldn't comprehend it. A student, dead? It was impossible to her. Even after all the attacks, even after all the fear and uncertainty, she hadn't ever rationally believed a student would die. Without being fully cognizant of her actions, Minerva stepped forward and grasped Myrtle's wrist, searching for a pulse. Myrtle was cold, and as much as Minerva tried, as much as she moved her thumb, she could not find a pulse. Still, she stepped closer and felt Myrtle's neck, needing to be sure. Cold.

She looked back at Poppy. Seeing how distraught her friend was helped Minerva clear her head, and she sprang into action. She gripped Poppy's arms and pulled her to her feet, "Come on, Poppy. We need to focus."

Poppy nodded slowly, still looking past Minerva at Myrtle in shock.

"We need to alert the staff, and we need to make sure no one comes in here," Minerva said slowly. Poppy's eyes flickered to meet hers. She nodded again, but this time more surely. Minerva squeezed her upper arms comfortingly, "Do you think you can stand outside the door and make sure no one comes in?"

"Yes," Poppy whispered. She nodded.

"Good. I'm going to find a professor, alright?" Minerva informed her, pushing her gently back out of the lavatory. Poppy nodded again.

As they stepped up to the door to open it, it swung open of its own accord and a second-year Ravenclaw girl started walking in. Minerva gave her an apologetic smile and said, "I'm sorry, but we're closing this toilet. You can find another one a floor up or a floor down."

The girl glanced around the sixth-years, wondering if she dared argue with the Prefects, before turning and hurrying out the door. They followed her out, and Poppy stopped in front of the door. She was still pale, but she looked resolute.

Minerva squeezed her arms again and said, "I'll be back as soon as I can."

Poppy nodded, and Minerva ran off towards the stairs. Her first thought, of course, was Dumbledore, and his office was only one floor down. She ran down the stairs, feeling a sense of déjà-vu as she jumped onto a moving staircase right as it pulled away. When she reached his office door, she banged on it loudly, "Professor? It's an emergency!"

She pressed her ear against the door. Hearing nothing on the inside, she tried the handle. It was locked. Her nostrils flared in frustration. Not knowing what else to do, hoping that perhaps there would be some clue to Dumbledore's whereabouts inside, she drew her wand and started trying to unlock the door. A simple Alohomora didn't work, and neither did any of the advanced unlocking charms she knew. Of course they wouldn't; this was Dumbledore. Grimacing regretfully, and clearly not in her right mind, Minerva stepped back from the door and cast a powerful Blasting Hex. To her surprise, the door burst open, splitting in two. A pair of students a little farther down the hall stopped in their tracks, their eyes wide, but she paid them no mind. She stepped over the broken wood that had collapsed in the doorway and stepped inside, her shoulders heaving as adrenaline rushed through her veins.

Fawkes the phoenix squawked in indignation as she burst in. Minerva ignored the bird as she looked around. She swallowed hard as her eyes darted to the door to his classroom and then to the door to his private quarters. She peeked in his classroom, but he was not within. His desk was a mess, and hopes of finding a neat calendar anywhere were quickly dying. Desperately, she looked up at Fawkes and said, "Fawkes, if you can, please, it's urgent, Dumbledore needs to know—"

She was cut off as Fawkes raised his wings and pushed off his perch, rising into the air. Her heart beat faster as the phoenix flew over to her with two powerful flaps of his wings, and slapped his tail feathers into her face. Instinctively, she grasped them, and a flash of flame erupted in her vision, covering her with warmth but not burning her. She closed her eyes instinctively against the flames. She reopened them as the sound of gasps and scraping chairs met her ears, and found herself, to her great surprise, in the staffroom of Hogwarts. Every single one of the staff members was staring at her in shock. Dumbledore and Merrythought had risen to their feet.

Minerva recovered first, and said quickly, "Professors – there's been—" She swallowed hard, her heart pounding. It was harder to get out than she thought it would be. She still couldn't fully believe it, though she'd felt Myrtle's cold body herself. "A student's dead."

All of the staff got to their feet at that, exchanging alarmed looks. "Are you sure?" Merrythought asked quickly, shouting to be heard over the voices of her colleagues.

"Poppy did a Diagnostic Charm. Twice. I felt her skin," Minerva replied, nodding.

"Well, lead the way, then," Merrythought directed sharply, pointing towards the door.

The exact method of Minerva's arrival quickly escaped everyone's mind as they followed her out the door. Students jumped out of the way, sliding towards the walls, as their professors and support staff all marched out of the staffroom at once with a sixth-year Gryffindor Prefect at their head. Minerva imagined they must all look quite serious and terrifying. Behind her, she heard Dippet's voice say, "Remember what we talked about, Dumbledore." Minerva was too focused on her mission to spare a thought to what that might mean.

They made it up two flights of stairs, past wide-eyed and whispering students, until they reached the door that Poppy was guarding, still looking rather pale. She stepped aside quickly as Minerva reached it with the entirety of the Hogwarts staff in tow, and Minerva led the way inside. She gestured towards the stalls anxiously, stepping out of the way so the professors could see the stall themselves. Minerva closed her eyes as the sound of their gasps reached her ears.

"Step aside, let me through!" Minerva opened her eyes to see Madam Jenison pushing her way through the crowd of her colleagues to reach Myrtle.

After a few seconds, Dippet asked sharply, "Well?"

Minerva's heart pounded as she awaited an answer. "Dead," came the matron's quiet reply.

Whispers and mutters sprang up amongst the staff. Minerva wrapped her arms around herself and bowed her head. Now that her mission was complete, her adrenaline was wearing off and her emotions were starting to get the best of her. A student was dead. A student she'd told Poppy she'd help protect. She tried to control her breathing, but it came out shakily. She closed her eyes, trying to center herself.

"McGonagall?" Dumbledore's quiet voice in front of her made her lift her head. She met his light blue eyes. They were not twinkling.

Dippet's voice interrupted whatever Dumbledore had wanted to say to her, as it resounded not only in the room they were in, but throughout the hall outside and, Minerva suspected, the entire castle, "All students are to return to their common rooms at once. Prefects, please ensure that all students of your house are accounted for."

Behind Dumbledore, Minerva saw Merrythought push her way out of the crowd of staff members and walk quickly out the door. Her heart lurched to see tears on the Defense professor's face. Gibson and Slughorn followed her out the door, presumably to see to their houses, both looking grim. Minerva met Dumbledore's eyes uncertainly, unsure if she was also meant to follow these instructions.

"If it's alright with you, I'd like to ask you a few questions before you rejoin your housemates," Dumbledore inquired softly.

Minerva nodded mutely.

"Had you been looking for Miss Warren when you found her?" he asked.

"Yes, Gloria Scott came to tell me and Poppy that the Ravenclaw Prefects couldn't find her," Minerva replied.

"And do you have any idea what Myrtle was doing before she went missing?"

Minerva sucked in a deep breath, guilt rising up within her, "Evidently Olive Hornby had been tormenting her in the Entrance Hall this morning, and that was the last time anyone saw her. That's what Gloria told us, but she said it like she'd heard it from someone too."

Dumbledore nodded, "Thank you." Minerva nodded back, looking down. After a pause, Dumbledore asked, "Are you alright?"

Minerva nodded once, but couldn't bring herself to do more than that. It was a lie, of course. Her lips pressed together firmly and her nostrils flared. With her chin against her chest, she started shaking her head instead. Finally, the tears started to come, the tears she'd been holding back to stay focused on her mission of keeping the crisis under control. Her shoulders started to shake as she cried, and Dumbledore placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. Minerva sucked in a breath and asked, "Can I have a hug?"

After only a second's hesitation, Dumbledore drew her into a hug. She wrapped her arms around him tightly, gratefully, and sobbed into his shoulder. Minerva felt incredibly guilty. She remembered, back when David Crowley was attacked on Halloween, how her original goal had been to watch over the students. She felt as though if she'd stayed focused on that goal, instead of trying to be the hero and take on the impossible task of finding out who the perpetrator of the attacks was, she could have prevented this. She could have been there for Myrtle. Mason had warned Poppy that Myrtle might need extra help. Though she doubted Olive Hornby and Lacerta Macmillan were behind this, still, if she'd focused on helping the students, she might have been able to prevent the incident that had sent Myrtle into that toilet stall in the first place. Minerva wondered what happened to that original goal, but as she wondered, an answer came to her. Their questions had exhausted her. They'd made her want to solve the problem so she wouldn't have to answer the questions anymore. She'd felt like she was helping. Now, she only felt foolish and naïve and useless. She felt like a failure. Perhaps if she'd done more to combat bullying and unrest and spent less time in the library searching for leads, Myrtle would be alive.

Minerva didn't know how long she stood there, clinging to her professor and sobbing, but eventually her tears did dry and her sobs did quiet. She drew away from him slowly, her face feeling wet and messy and her hair in disarray. "Thank you," she said simply.

Her brows knit together sadly as she looked up at him and saw that he, too, had tears in his eyes. Her heart went out to him. Simultaneously, they raised their wands and conjured handkerchiefs. This inspired a half-hysterical bark of laughter to escape Minerva's lips, which immediately made her feel guilty. She averted her gaze as she used her handkerchief to wipe her face. As she cleaned her face, she heard Dippet saying, "I think we ought to leave her as she is for a little while longer, until each of us has had a chance to study the scene. Galatea will be contacting the girl's family – they're Muggles, I can't imagine what they're going to think – and I suppose my next step will be contacting the Board of Governors to inform them of our decision." He sucked in a deep breath. "I did not want it to have to come to this."

Minerva raised her head from the handkerchief, her heart pounding again for a different reason. She met Dumbledore's sad eyes with wide ones of her own. Her lips parted questioningly. He nodded slowly. Minerva closed her eyes tightly and bowed her head. Her stomach twisted sickeningly. Hogwarts was her home. She couldn't fathom a world without it.

"I'll escort you to your common room," Dumbledore said quietly.

Minerva nodded and followed him out the door. Poppy was no longer there. She imagined she'd gone with Merrythought to Ravenclaw. They walked together through the corridor to the Hall of Staircases, where they climbed the stairs in silence to the sixth floor. Minerva remembered with a lump in her throat how many times in recent weeks she'd walked up and down these stairs with Dumbledore, feeling as though they were becoming friends. She treasured those memories, and couldn't believe that she might never walk these stairs with him again. Tears prickled at her eyes anew, though she fought to keep herself under control. She'd cried enough in front of him for one day.

It was a long, quiet walk up to the sixth floor from the second, but they made it to the portrait of the Fat Lady eventually. Dumbledore gave the password, and as the door swung open, the sound of voices on the other side died almost immediately. Dumbledore stepped through first, and Minerva followed close behind. She kept her face looking straight ahead, not wanting to meet anyone's eyes and resisting the instinctive urge to search for Oliver. She was sure that despite her use of a handkerchief, her face still showed signs of crying.

All of the Gryffindors were quiet as they focused on their Head of House. Dumbledore did not need to raise his voice to be heard, and he announced, "I regret to inform you that a student, fourth-year Ravenclaw Myrtle Warren, has died."

Gasps spread throughout the common room. A few Gryffindors started whispering to each other. Some of the fourth-years let out chokes or cries.

"I will remain should any of you wish to talk," Dumbledore continued. Minerva glanced up at him at that. If he was about to be surrounded by curious and weepy students, she did not want to be standing beside him for that. Without another moment's hesitation, she stepped quickly away from him and hurried up the stairs to her dormitory.

As Minerva collapsed onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling, she felt empty. It had been an emotionally draining two days, and now that she was alone in her bed, she felt as though the first day fed into this one. All of her friends in Gryffindor were Oliver's friends too, and were closer to him than they were to her. It was only yesterday that she'd broken up with him. She didn't expect any of them to feel particularly charitable towards her. Laying on her back, uncertain of who to turn to and feeling as though she was due some hostility from the people that she would call friends, Minerva thought she might feel more alone now than she'd ever felt in her life. Logically, she knew she had Rolanda and Poppy – and Pomona, when she woke up – but they felt far away now. She'd never wished more that they were in Gryffindor with her.

"Minerva?"

Minerva lifted her head off her pillow, startled. She peeked through her curtains, blinking in surprise at the trio of girls standing by the nearest bed. Her dormmates Clarisse, Thalia, and Marjorie stood hesitantly by Clarisse's bed.

"Are you alright?" Marjorie asked.

Minerva's brows knit together and she averted her gaze.

Marjorie approached her slowly, glancing up at the curtains and placing a hand on them, "Can I…?"

Minerva nodded, and Marjorie pulled them back. She took a seat on the edge of Minerva's bed and reached out a hand, grasping Minerva's wrist gently. Minerva looked into her lap, sniffling. She felt tears prickling at her eyes again and fought to hold them back. She wasn't particularly close with her dormmates, though they had been spending a little bit more time together recently, ever since Clarisse started dating Theodore. Still, they'd had no conversations of substance and hardly knew anything about each other on a deeper, personal level.

Marjorie, though, didn't seem to care about that, and drew Minerva into a hug. Minerva's face crumpled over Marjorie's shoulder, touched by her kindness, and the dam broke. She held on to Marjorie tightly as she released her grief about Myrtle and Oliver and her friends. Clarisse and Thalia came around Minerva's bed to sit with them. Minerva's heart warmed when she felt Clarisse's hand start stroking her back gently. She was well and truly sick of crying, embarrassed of crying, but the tears kept falling. It was simply all too much.

"I saw her," she heard herself say into Marjorie's shoulder. "I found her. With Poppy. She was so cold."

Marjorie held her tighter and started rocking her, making soothing sounds in her ear.

"I – I've never seen—" she hiccoughed. The words caught in her throat. She couldn't get them out. The three girls understood, though.

"You know," Thalia said quietly, looking at her hands. "There was an attack in my town over the summer. It's alright if you don't remember, there's so many…" she laughed humorlessly. Her face pinched painfully. "I could barely do anything. I didn't know what to do. I felt so helpless. And…and then I saw my neighbors. Dead. I'd never seen – seen that either. It was chilling. Sickening. And I didn't even know them that well, they'd moved in after I started at Hogwarts, but I still – I couldn't stop crying." Even now, she wiped tears from the corners of her eyes. Minerva pulled away from Marjorie and reached out a hand to Thalia, who grasped it tightly. Thalia opened her mouth to say something, but the words died on her tongue. She shook her head and closed her eyes instead.

Minerva reached forward and hugged Thalia. They sniffled into each other's shoulders, holding on for about a full minute before drawing away quietly. Minerva glanced up at Clarisse, and asked, "Why are you being so nice to me?"

Although Minerva felt deeply insecure about this question, although she was waiting to be judged, Clarisse blinked in surprise. "What do you mean? When have you ever given us a reason to not be nice to you?"

Minerva ducked her head, a little embarrassed, "But Oliver…"

Clarisse's expression softened, and her hand returned to Minerva's back comfortingly. She shook her head at Minerva, "Minerva, you silly, silly witch. Witches have to stick together, you know."

"But we've never been close," she persisted, a little awkwardly.

Clarisse gave her a small smile, "No, we haven't. But I might have gotten a request down the grapevine to keep an eye on you after what happened yesterday." She raised her eyebrows significantly. When Minerva only looked perplexed in response, Clarisse laughed softly and explained, "Rolanda. You realize that Richard and Theodore are best mates, don't you? Rolanda told Richard, who told Theodore, who told me."

Affection for Rolanda, as well as a little amusement, rose within her. She laughed softly, shaking her head. Then she looked up at them, meeting each of their eyes, and said sincerely, "Thank you." They gave her small smiles in return.