September 26th 1977

The room was silent apart from Minerva's quill as it scratched along the roll of parchment she had been working on for the past few minutes. It was dark outside, having long past 9 o'clock, and a strange mist had settled across the school grounds. Feeling the cold, which seemed to be seeping through even the tiniest cracks in the stone walls and window frames, Minerva tapped the oil lamp impatiently so that the shrunken flame grew to a more considerable and normal size. Bending back down over her work she pushed the Evening Prophet ever so slightly across her desk so that she would be able to continue writing her commentary on the essay unobstructed. The moving picture on the newspaper of several dementors swooping in on some terrified and trapped children slid under the bright light of the lamp's flame, the article beneath warning wizarding families of the increasing threat of unprovoked dementor attacks.

As she finished her sentence, Minerva put her quill down and rubbed her eyes, which were now prickling with tiredness. Leaning back in her chair she checked her father's watch, which was strapped across her wrist, and felt her stomach sink as she realised the needle was closer to 11 o'clock than 10. Despite deciding to wait for Dumbledore earlier that morning, she had to admit to herself that at some point she would have to go home. Getting up suddenly to wake herself up she picked up her wand, which now no longer left her side, and conjured her patronus sending the small tabby cat to her brother's house in Caithness alerting him that she would be arriving in the next few minutes.

However, as soon as the reassuring blue light of her patronus disappeared out of the room someone knocked at the door. Despite the increased security around the school and the fact that deep down she knew she was safe, Minerva nevertheless felt her muscles tense.

"Come in," she said, not as confidently as she would have liked.

Dumbledore entered the room, his travelling cloak still on telling her that he had only just got back. He smiled tiredly however Minerva noticed that it did not quite reach his eyes. "I thought you would have gone home by now," he said, walking over to her desk conjuring a soft armchair in which he could sit comfortably.

Minerva sat back down herself, pushing her work aside so that she could rest her arms on her desk without smudging any ink. "I was worried," she said quietly, "Besides my niece asked me to help her with her application letter for a job at Ollivanders," she briefly glanced over at the parchment she had been working on before, "I thought it would be best to get it done before I saw her."

Dumbledore nodded, then looking grave he added, "I hope you told your brother you would be arriving late?"

Minerva pursed her lips and gave him a pointed look for what she considered to be a patronising question. "Of course I did," she said finally, "And actually if anyone should be asked that question, it's you. I don't think Aberforth knows where you are half the time, Albus. He may not say it but he really does cares about you." Dumbledore didn't say anything and they remained in silence for a few seconds - Minerva watching Dumbledore closely, and Dumbledore looking determinedly away. Shaking her head Minerva waved her hand dismissively. "But that is beside the point. What I really want to know," she pressed on, "Is what happened."

Dumbledore didn't answer immediately. He took his hat off slowly and then made a scene of cleaning the lenses of his half-moon spectacles with the fabric of his travelling cloak. When he finally put them back on, Minerva was on the edge of her seat waiting for the answer she had been thinking of since she had last seen him. "Our suspicions have proved themselves to be correct," said Albus finally.

Minerva felt herself sink in her seat and closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose with her fingertips. "So that's Lucius Malfoy too," she said, more to herself than anyone else. "He must be part of You-Know-Who's inner-circle then," she said, letting her arm drop back onto the table. Dumbledore nodded mutely seemingly deep in thought and Minerva, realising that he had not corrected her for using the term You-Know-Who, frowned feeling as though she was missing something. "Something else happened. Who else did you see?"

"Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, Bellatrix Black, Evan Rosier, Igor Karkaroff." Dumbledore looked away from the window, now giving her his full attention, "We can now confirm Malfoy manner as a meeting place and we will be disclosing this information at the next Order meeting." He stood up suddenly, "I need to send word to the Minister, Minerva. I will see you soon I hope."

"No," said Minerva standing up quickly and hurrying around her desk. "No, no, no. Hold on, Albus," she said, blocking the exit to stop him from leaving without answering her questions. "If you make a claim such as this one to Minchum there is no way he will take you seriously," she said bluntly. "The Malfoys have always had a large influence at the Ministry. Abraxas Malfoy even had Lynch removed from office 2 years ago! This is a serious claim and if we want to be believed we need to think about how we are going to phrase ourselves first." Dumbledore didn't say anything and Minerva clucked her tongue. "Don't you think you should ask Alastor or Elphinstone to tell him," she urged him, "Or Frank Longbottom! Albus, I think the Minister would take these allegations more seriously if it came from Ministry workers or Aurors."

Dumbledore shook his head dismissively and Minerva rolled her eyes, throwing her hand up in the air in frustration. "What is the point of you discussing these issues with me if you never listen to my opinion?" she answered waspishly.

"I do listen, Minerva," said Dumbledore, turning away from the door so that he was facing her properly, "But we need to act immediately. Elphinstone and Alastor will be in bed as will Frank."

"You know you could reach them if you wanted to," Minerva shot back, turning around "Besides I doubt Alastor even sleeps at all! He is becoming so paranoid I wouldn't be surprised if he just sits by his bedroom window watching the street in case You-Know-Who shows up."

"Voldemort," corrected Dumbledore, albeit quietly.

Minerva spun around and pointed a finger at him. "Don't," she said firmly, "I am not in the mood for that, Albus. Not now."

"You used to say his name."

"I used to," replied Minerva, the image of how she found her brother's smouldering and destroyed house with the dark mark glistening above now vivid in her mind's eye. She briefly closed her eyes, pushing the memory from her mind, "But I don't anymore. He has done such unspeakable things, Albus I –"

Dumbledore interrupted her. "I saw him tonight"

Minerva blanched, "Y-You what?"

"I saw Voldemort. He was at the meeting at Malfoy Manor this evening."

Having never seen him before Minerva, feeling all her previous frustration dissipate, took a few steps towards Dumbledore and said, "What did he look like?"

Dumbledore shook his head and rubbed his eyes. Although he had remained fairly calm and composed all evening, at that precise moment he seemed old and Minerva didn't know what to do when a look of deepness sadness overcame him. "Inhuman," he said finally.

Tentatively, Minerva took a few steps closer and asked, "In-In what way?"

"His skin looks like it has been," Dumbledore frowned as he struggled to find the word, "melted." He sighed and rubbed his eyes, "Some dark magic is at work here, Minerva. I believe," he paused and Minerva had the distinct impression he was stopping himself from revealing anything else. Shaking his head he gave a small smile, "I believe your family will be worried about you by now, my dear. It's getting late and I have an urgent owl to send to the Minister."

Minerva bit back her angry retort at being dismissed this way. "Well, if that is all you are going to tell me then on your head so be it. I am just an owl away if you need me, Albus," she reminded him, knowing full well he was not going to disclose this piece of information with her until he felt ready.

Dumbledore nodded appreciatively. "I will see you next week then, my dear."

"Yes, for the meeting," said Minerva, still feeling distinctly prickled by their short interaction. With much more force than necessary, she started manually gathering all of her books and papers and putting them into her bag. As Dumbledore started to walk out of the room Minerva, unable to contain her curiosity, suddenly burst out, "What sort of magic can disfigure somebody like that?"

Dumbledore gave her a strange look, "Dark magic, my dear. But as of yet I do not know what type." He shook his head and gave her a small smile, "It's late. "Travel safely, Minerva. Let me know when you arrive at your brother's' house." When she nodded he gave her a brief wave and then swept out of the room.

Muttering darkly under her breath, Minerva gathered her sheets of paper, her bags and then disapparated on the spot – Dumbledore having lifted the protective spells for her to get home safely that evening.