A/N: Updated April 2021. Thanks for reading!
For disclaimer, please see the prologue.
Chapter Eight: October 4, 1940
"Happy birthday, Min!" Minerva woke to see her four roommates peering over her, huge grins on their faces.
"Ugggggh," Minerva groaned, rolling over to lay on her stomach. "What time is it?"
Poppy giggled. "Seven." When Minerva threw a pillow over her head, Poppy snatched it back. "It's Friday, Min. We still have classes. Get up!"
"There should be a law," Minerva mumbled, rolling over again, "that you don't have class on your birthday. Quidditch went late last night. Leave me alone. Five more minutes."
"You're the oldest one of us, but sometimes you act just like a child," Charlotte commented, hoping to get a rise out of the birthday girl. Given that Minerva was born after September 1, she had had to wait an extra year to go to Hogwarts, and she was at least four months older than her roommates. "C'mon, I want to know what you get for breakfast this year."
Minerva perked up at the thought of food. Every year, the elves would make a special breakfast on your birthday. Aidan usually ended up with a bigger plate, but Minerva's was always filled with eggs Benedict and a nice side of maple back bacon. It was her breakfast of choice and the only reason to get out of bed early on her birthday. Especially on a birthday when she wouldn't get to see Callum. Her fourth year was proving to be harder emotionally than she would have liked. It was tough to be on her own at Hogwarts, her brother fighting in a war. Exhaling, Minerva said, "It better be the same breakfast; otherwise, this morning is about to get infinitely worse. Okay, girls, move."
They dispersed and left her to get changed. Minerva went downstairs, caught by surprise when Aidan decided to pop a balloon in her face. She hexed him for the effort, and the group all went down to breakfast.
"Oh man, that looks good, McGonagall," Aidan looked over her shoulder. "They gave you extra mushrooms this year!"
"They did," Minerva agreed, smacking his hand away when he reached for one. "Eat your own food!"
"You're gonna feel bad about that when you realize what your birthday gift is this year," Aidan taunted. "It'll put all of my other gifts to shame."
Minerva looked at him. "For the past three years, you've given me a "get out of helping Aidan with his homework" coupon. Are you telling me you finally changed it up?"
"Trust us, Min," Augusta smiled. "It's definitely better than that."
Minerva quirked her eyebrow and went back to eating her breakfast. Her owl, Felina, flew in and dropped gifts next to her plate. "Thanks, Fel." She rubbed the owl's neck and opened the parcels. Her parents had sent her some clothes, and Diana had given her a few books.
"McGonagall, these are sad gifts," Aidan shook his head. "Who's that one from?" he nodded over to one small package left by her glass.
"Callum? He's the only one left." Minerva reached over and picked it up. Frowning, she held out her hand. "It's addressed to you, Scrimgeour."
"Awesome!" Aidan practically ripped her hand off in his quest to reach it. "I miss him."
"Well," Minerva huffed, aghast. "You would think that he would write to his sister on her fifteenth birthday, but apparently he only cares about the resumé of his partner in pranks." She stood up. "I'll see you in Arithmancy."
"Aidan, she's livid. She's had a bad year without Callum so far, and this obviously is a hard day for her," Harriet said nervously, eyeing their friend as she stalked down the Great Hall. "Maybe you should just tell her."
"What kind of person would I be if I told her? Oh no," Aidan reached over to eat Minerva's leftovers. "She's in for the shock of her life."
The rest of the day passed very, very slowly. After shrugging off Rowena's hugs in double Arithmancy, Minerva wanted nothing more than to go back to her room and take a nap. She was abnormally tired lately -probably a result of having to keep Aidan in check now that Callum wasn't around- and their new Quidditch captain, McLaggen, was running them ragged every chance he got. The rumour mill said that he couldn't pull off a win without Callum and Evangeline, and he was determined to prove them wrong. They had practice four days a week in addition to a scrimmage every Saturday. Last night, Amelia Spinnet had been so exhausted that she had fainted right off her broom. The only thing that sustained Minerva was her sleep, and she was more than a little annoyed that Callum hadn't bothered to write her on her first Hogwarts birthday without him. She knew she was behaving like a petulant child, but she didn't have the energy to lift her wand, let alone care. It goes without saying just how annoyed she was when, on her way to her last class of the day, Minerva literally ran into Tom Riddle.
"Oh, so sorry about that, Minerva," he held her arms so she could regain her footing. "I didn't see you there."
Minerva felt a wave of pain crash over her arm and did her best not to let it show. "It wasn't intentional, Riddle." She made to walk around him, but he stopped her in his path.
"It's Tom, Minerva. Tom M. Riddle. You can call me by my name, you know. I'm sorry I hit you, but I am happy I got to see you." Riddle smiled at her, and she wondered why, out of all of Merlin's creatures, she was his fascination. "I heard it's your birthday."
"You already knew it was my birthday," Minerva quipped. "What of it?"
"I thought I would give you this." He reached into his robes and pulled out a simple diary. "I know you're always going through parchment, and I thought you may want something a bit more...polished."
Minerva was at a loss for words. This ridiculous teenager had tormented her and literally branded her with his magic, and yet, here he was, trying to give her a gift. She couldn't figure him out. This was a first for her; Minerva McGonagall always knew the answer.
"Riddle, I...I don't know what to say," she replied quietly. "Do you honestly believe that I'd feel comfortable taking this? After everything?"
"It's Tom. You wouldn't be who you are if you trusted it right away," Riddle shrugged. "I just needed to remind you that one day, you'll come around." He held the diary out again. "Please, Minerva. I'm trying to be nice."
She hesitated, eyeing him carefully. Slowly, she reached out and took it before putting it into her bag. Riddle wouldn't know that she had Transfiguration next and that she would just hand it over to Dumbledore. That was one way to take care of it. Minerva nodded tersely and then strolled quickly to Transfiguration.
Dumbledore met her eyes when she entered the classroom, late thanks to Riddle's little delay. Throughout the lesson, Minerva could feel him looking over her, no doubt worrying when she couldn't seem to stop scratching at her arm. She didn't even bother with the pretense of leaving when he dismissed them; instead, she stayed back until everyone else had left.
He stared at her until she folded. Sighing, she handed him the diary. "Would you be able to take a look at this, Professor? Check it over for dark magic, curses, that sort of thing?"
"And why would you feel that I need to do that?" Dumbledore took the diary, running his hands over the spine. He looked at her. "I'm not going to like the answer, am I, Miss McGonagall?"
"No, probably not," Minerva muttered. He raised his eyebrows, and when she had finished telling him the story, he looked less than impressed. No, Minerva decided, he looked downright menacing.
"Your arm, Miss McGonagall," Dumbledore pursed his lips and healed her as best as he could. "We're going to need to work on a counter curse for that."
"I doubt one exists, Professor," Minerva replied sardonically. "How can one create a counter curse for accidental magic?"
He opened his mouth, undoubtedly about to reprimand her for her snark, when his classroom door opened. Professor Carter strolled in, a backpack slung over her shoulder. "Albus, did you not realize the time? We have to-" she stopped suddenly, noticing that he was in the presence of a student. "Oh, I'm sorry. Miss McGonagall, are you quite alright?"
"Clara, perhaps you can help me with this." Dumbledore motioned for her to approach them. "This diary was gifted to Miss McGonagall, and she has reason to believe that it may be cursed."
Professor Carter's eyebrows raised to her hairline at the remark, but she walked over and started inspecting it nonetheless. After several minutes, she sighed, tucking a strand of blonde hair back behind her ear. "I don't think anything is going on here. It appears to be a simple diary."
"I'm inclined to agree with you, Clara," Dumbledore spoke softly, his wand tracing over the diary once more. "You may have it back, Miss McGonagall. However, if you wish to limit these sorts of interactions in the future, I would recommend strongly that you return it to its rightful owner."
Minerva took the diary back. "Thank you for your help, Professors. I will certainly do that."
"Why, do you have a relentless suitor, Miss McGonagall?" Professor Carter laughed, quickly quieting herself upon seeing the grim looks on the others' faces.
"More like a personal poltergeist, Professor Carter," Minerva replied, smiling grimly. "Enjoy your evening." She turned to leave, but her Head's voice stopped her at the door.
"Happy birthday, Miss McGonagall. I hope you can still manage to have a good day," Dumbledore smiled kindly at her.
Minerva bobbed her head in acknowledgement before heading down to the Slytherin common room. She hated being near the dungeons, particularly knowing that Slughorn tended to hang around, but she wanted to give the diary back quickly. When she arrived, Minerva looked at the gift and hesitated. If it had been cursed, her life would have been so much easier. She would have had reason to be angry; she could curse him and hex him and maybe even have him suspended, depending on Dumbledore's opinion. In fact, the realization that it wasn't cursed almost made her more uncomfortable. Riddle had actually extended an olive branch. It was a dramatic, surprising action that made her think he might be growing up a little bit. But, Minerva mused, she still didn't want him thinking that he could grow with her. So, thanking him silently for divulging his middle initial, she wrote "T. M. Riddle" on the front page. She leaned it carefully against the entrance, trusting that it would make its way to him.
With that unpleasant task completed, Minerva could finally focus on her nice warm bed. She trudged up to Gryffindor Tower and was not particularly amused to find Harriet and Augusta talking outside the Fat Lady's portrait.
"Min! There you are! Where the hell have you been?" Harriet hissed, pulling at her wrist. "We were worried sick. No one has seen you since Transfiguration!"
"Yea, well," Minerva did her best not to breathe fire, "it's been a bit of a busy day. Girls, I would really just like to go to bed."
Augusta looked at Harriet and took over. "We're just happy you're okay, Min. Now, come on. We've been waiting for you." She smiled and pulled Minerva through the portrait.
"SURPRISE!" Minerva emerged from the portrait to see almost all of Gryffindor house waiting for her, streamers and balloons floating around the room. Her jaw dropped. No one had ever done something quite like this for her before.
"I told you this gift would top last year's." Aidan stepped forward, grinning like the cat who caught the canary. He gave her a quick hug and lowered his voice. "I figured you might be a bit low without Callum, so we went all out for you this year, McGonagall."
Minerva shook her head, awestruck. "Aidan, I can't believe you. This," she threw her hands up, "is pretty magical. Thank you."
He blushed. "Now, don't expect this every year. But for now, we've got cake and presents, and Butterbeer and pumpkin juice -oh, and Callum and Lucy sent some weird ginger cookie thing for you, I think he called them ginger newts? I don't know, they taste terrible; I tried them for you. We even got McLaggen to call off tomorrow's quidditch practice so we could all stay up late."
"If you got McLaggen to cancel quidditch, I owe you. Big time, Aidan," Minerva laughed. "I'm way too sore to practise again tomorrow."
"Well, he couldn't really hold practice tomorrow anyway, given that Amelia is still a little foggy," Aidan shrugged. "He just needed some convincing. Also, that package from Callum this morning? It's the second part of his gift, after those cookies. He needed a prankster to pull it off, though, so that's why it came to me."
"What in Merlin's name was it, Scrimgeour?" Minerva's eyes narrowed. Callum knew that she detested pranks. "I'm not about to wind up in detention for something you did."
"No, no, McG, it can't be traced back to us," Aidan said, deliberately misunderstanding her caution. "You see, Callum's been up to some cool stuff in London. He found this cool potion that I managed to get the elves to put into the professors'-"
"YOU DRUGGED OUR PROFESSORS? AS A BIRTHDAY GIFT, IN MY NAME? WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?" Minerva seethed, grabbing his arm. "Are you an idiot? I'm actually concerned about your intelligence. Are you unwell?"
"McGonagall, listen," Aidan swallowed. "Do you really think Callum would give me something harmful? No, he wouldn't. It's just a potion that turns all of their hair into funny patterns. Think about it: Carter will have tartan hair, Dumbledore's beard will be polka dots, Slughorn's ring of balding hair will be, I don't know, striped or something. It will be fun, and it will only last for a day. C'mon, McG. It will be fine. Trust me. And if for some reason the elves rat me out, I'll say it was all my idea, and I won't mention your name."
"That'll be because there is no reason to mention my name," Minerva huffed.
"Exactly, now you're talking. Now, let's enjoy your party, alright? There's music, food, drinks, good company, and you'll get to sleep in tomorrow." Aidan winked and headed straight for the food, laughing with Jaime and Michael when the former's chocolate frog ran off.
Minerva sighed, somewhat amused. The boy she had met on the boat three years ago was the reason she'd eventually go grey early in life, but Aidan had really done what he could to make this year a little bit easier for her. And as much as she loathed to admit it, she was kind of excited to see Dumbledore's beard, coloured and distorted and funny. Minerva flicked her wand towards a balloon, charming it to fly and knock Aidan's cake into his face. When he stared at her, fuming and undoubtedly thinking of how he should retaliate, she laughed heartily for the first time all year.