A/N: If you have this story on alert and are still around, thank you so much for coming back. I realize this is probably the only update you will have received, so please be aware that this story has been rewritten in 2021. If you haven't already, please go back and read the updated version so that this story makes sense! Thank you for reading, reviewing, and sticking with me. I'll try to keep to a weekly/ biweekly update schedule, depending on how quickly I can write/edit. I do have more pre-written, but I want to make sure I have enough to sustain a regular publishing schedule. I've kept you all waiting for far too long already.

For disclaimer, please see the prologue.

Chapter Eleven: Autumn Term, 1942, Pt. I

Minerva was sitting on the couch by the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, absentmindedly braiding her hair. Today was her seventeenth birthday, and while being of age had definite perks that she was excited to explore, she couldn't see past her afternoon plans. True to form, Minerva had scored an 'Outstanding' on all of her attempted OWLs. Dumbledore had sent her a letter over the summer outlining his sincerest congratulations, recommitting to train her to be an Animagus once she hit legal age. Now that it was finally her birthday, Minerva would spend the afternoon with her Head, going over the process.

"Is that Minerva McGonagall? Up before seven on a Sunday?" Augusta floated down the stairs, softly sitting beside her friend. "I'm shocked you didn't sleep in. It is your birthday, after all. Happy birthday, Min."

Minerva smiled at Augusta. While Augusta still had moments of shyness, she had broken out of her shell over the last few years. "Thanks, Augusta. I'm too excited to sleep, I suppose."

"What on earth has you so excited you can't sleep?" Augusta laughed. "You could sleep through anything."

"I," Minerva hesitated, knowing that Dumbledore expected her to keep the training under wraps, "I have a lot to do. Just a lot of planning, I guess."

"There's something you're not telling me," Augusta guessed. "And knowing you as I do, it's special. You can't stop smiling. So whatever it is, enjoy it."

Minerva was somewhat surprised at the girl's perceptiveness. "I will. Trust me. And when I can tell you, I will."

"Oh, I don't doubt that." Mirth lined the younger girl's eyes. "I'm sure Aidan will catch you in an abandoned corridor with this mystery human at some point."

"What?" Minerva instantly took back her thought about Augusta's intuition. She wanted to shut that particular train of thought down, but thought better of it. Better to have everyone think she had a secret paramour than risk the truth getting out. "Augusta, I'm not quite ready to come out with it, just yet."

"I thought so," Augusta winked. "Want to head down to breakfast early? I could certainly use the food; I didn't eat a lot last night."

"Yea, why not? If I start early, maybe I can actually manage to eat some of my breakfast before Aidan gets up," Minerva laughed, grabbing her friend's arm and leading her out of the room.

The morning, while heartwarming, didn't pass quickly enough for Minerva. She had thoroughly enjoyed her breakfast and slapping Aidan's hands away, as usual. The elves had outdone themselves, as usual. Her family had sent her wonderfully thoughtful gifts, as usual. Minerva's problem lay in awaiting the unusual. Aidan kept not-so-gently elbowing her back into conversations, her mind whirring with thoughts about what animal she might turn into. She knew she wasn't being terrific company at the moment, but she allowed herself to forget her manners. It was her birthday, and she could do what she wanted.

"McGonagall!" Aidan yelled in her ear, elbowing her again. "What the bloody hell is wrong with you? We're talking Quidditch here, and you're in another world. Get it together, woman!"

"Aidan!" Augusta admonished. "Be kind, her mind is...elsewhere."

Something in her tone sounded somewhat knowing, like she knew a secret no one else did. Aidan caught on, whipping his head between the two. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing, Aidan," Minerva rolled her eyes, silently cursing herself for letting Augusta believe she had some sort of hidden beau. "I just have a lot on my mind, that's all."

"You always have mind enough for Quidditch," Aidan pointed out. He frowned when he saw Augusta giggle, and Charlotte's eyes light up knowingly. "What kind of stupid girl thing is going on here?"

Charlotte laughed, "Aidan, I think our Min has a crush."

Minerva blushed furiously, knowing that it was the farthest thing from the truth. "No, guys-"

"OH, MY MERLIN!" Aidan jumped up on the couch, bouncing on his toes. "MCGONAGALL FINALLY HAS FEELINGS!"

"Aidan, pull yourself together!" Minerva hissed, pulling at his sweater. "Stop yelling!"

"Oh, no, NEVER! MCGONAGALL'S GOT A BOYFRIEND, WHAT ABOUT YOU? DID YOU ALL HEAR THE NEWS? MCG HAS A NEW BEAU, HIS FAMILY IS LOADED WITH DOUGH-"

"Kindly shut the fuck up," Minerva yanked his arm this time, sending him toppling to the ground. She glared at him. "Child."

Aidan wasn't put off by her moods. If anything, he was encouraged. "Char, Augusta- McG is cursing. McG never curses. MCG HAS A BOYFRIEND!"

"Aidan, enough, before she hexes you," Charlotte wrapped her arms around him. "Besides, you're giving me a headache."

"Honestly, Aidan, she'll never tell us who he is now," Augusta moaned, throwing her head back against the cushions. "Crikey, how is it half-past one already? We've let your birthday slip away. What do you want to do next, Min?"

Minerva stared. "It's half-past one? Fuck, I've got to go!" She cursed again, causing Aidan's mouth to fall open as she hastily collected her things. "Right, I've got something to do this afternoon. I should see you all for dinner!" She ran off towards the exit.

"Yo, McG! Do I need to have a talk with this bloke or what?" Aidan called after her, and she sighed, leaving Charlotte to handle him.

Running through the castle, Minerva skidded to a stop in front of Dumbledore's door. She panted in the open doorway, doing her best to breathe again.

"One could be forgiven for thinking you'd forgotten about our session." Dumbledore's eyes danced with laughter as he waved her inside. "Come on in. The tea is still warm."

Minerva felt her cheeks betray her and turn a deep crimson. "Sorry, Professor. Things got a little out of hand in the common room." She accepted the teacup gratefully.

"Good out of hand, or bad out of hand?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, it was nothing. Just some harmless birthday teasing," Minerva sighed into the tea. "Trust me."

"Alright, I do," Dumbledore said, inwardly chuckling at the antics of teenagers. "Happy birthday, Miss McGonagall."

"Thank you, Professor!" Minerva perked up. "Where do we start?"

"We don't start anything today," Dumbledore replied, firmly but kindly. "I believe I told you that this is an arduous process. Today I want to cover the basics of everything you can expect throughout our time together. We'll also need to go over a few issues that may be uncomfortable for either or both of us. Becoming an Animagus is an extremely complex piece of magic. Many witches and wizards attempt it, and few succeed. It requires complete, sustained attention for a long period of time. Also," he shifted slightly, "I need to know that you trust me. We cannot foresee how this will go, Miss McGonagall, or the side effects. I need to know that you're comfortable telling me if or when this becomes too much, or if you're in pain mid-transformation. You need to be completely honest with me, without any thought for your pride, bravado, or what I will think. My opinion of you and your accomplishments will not change, I can assure you of that."

"I understand, sir," Minerva nodded thoughtfully. "I do trust you. One hundred percent. If I feel the need to stop, I'll let you know."

"Good." Dumbledore peered at her over his glasses. "I am going to go over the entire process with you. I genuinely believe that you should know everything that you'll be required to do; it would not do either of us any favours for you to be blindsided by a task down the road. As I alluded to last spring, you need to be skilled in both Transfiguration and Potions. Obviously, you are," he indulged her with a brief smile, "but your OWL scores alone will not suffice. I will only train you if I'm certain you hold enough knowledge to fully understand what is happening and why. I'm aware you have a busy schedule, particularly now that you are Quidditch captain, but I propose that we meet twice weekly to go over various theories in these two subjects. Is that agreeable?"

"Yes, Professor," Minerva said, adding, "I rather like the idea of learning more advanced magic."

"I thought you would," Dumbledore said gently. "But that's not nearly all of it. After you have accumulated enough knowledge, you will need to carry a Mandrake leaf in your mouth for a month."

"A month? That sounds unpleasant," Minerva choked.

"Well, it isn't pleasant, I'll have you know."

"Ah, so you have done this before?"

Dumbledore looked at his student, who was looking very much like the cat that had caught the canary. "You will carry the Mandrake leaf in your mouth for a month, after which time you will place it in a particular phial. Don't worry, I have one that shall suffice -do not ask me again if I've done this, Miss McGonagall- and at the end of the month's time, we will place both the leaf and one of your hairs into it.

"Then, we will have to find some dew to add to the mixture, which will brew for a week. After, we find an insect to add before hiding it away until the next electrical storm."

"What do you mean, we hide it away until the next electrical storm? That could be the very next day or three years from now!" Minerva exclaimed.

"Precisely. This is why, on second thought, you were smart to suggest that we start your training this year. The caveat is, Miss McGonagall, while we wait for the storm, you cannot seek this mixture out. You cannot look at it. You cannot touch it. You cannot even go in the general direction of its hiding place. During this time, there will be an incantation that you will be required to chant day and night, every day until the storm."

"That sounds easy enough."

"No, the incantation is not the most challenging part of the ordeal," Dumbledore agreed, amused. "If we're lucky, you will start to feel a second heartbeat begin to beat with your own. Whenever we are fortunate enough to see lightning, we shall go together to attempt your first transformation."

"Really? Sir, you don't have to come with me," Minerva offered mildly, wanting to try it by herself.

"There's no way you'll be attempting it alone. We go together. I need to ensure that you are safe and looked after." His tone brokered no disagreement. "You will undoubtedly hate the taste of the potion, and the first transformation will be unbearably painful. I can't allow you to walk into that alone, not in good conscience. I'm responsible for your care while you're here. Through the pain, you will see the corporeal form of the animal you will become. If all goes well, you'll be able to transform at that point. Most who attempt this cannot transform without their wands; being nearby, I'll ensure that you can transform back into your human form."

"I am ready. You haven't deterred me, if that's what you were hoping to do," Minerva stated matter of factly.

"That wasn't my intention. You simply need to be aware of all of the facts, even those that sound completely undesirable," Dumbledore admonished. "Now, that's the entire process in a nutshell. Any questions?"

"No."

"Then, we shall move on to matters that are far more uncomfortable." Minerva's eyebrow arched, and he exhaled slowly. "Miss McGonagall, there will assuredly be moments throughout this journey that will be highly awkward for us in our roles as student and professor."

"What do you mean, Professor? You've seen me almost every day for the past five years, I can't imagine there's much you don't know," Minerva frowned.

"We will be undergoing intense psychological and educational trials together," Dumbledore eased gently. "I will be teaching you the arts of Occlumency and Legilimency to better ward your mind against your animal self taking control against your will. I will need to perform Legilimency on you to test your mind. I may discover things that you wouldn't want one of your professors to know. Conversely, you will need to test your skills as a Legilimens on myself. I believe myself to be reasonably skilled in Occlumency if it isn't too egotistical to say so, but there is a chance that you may uncover things in my past. We will be bound by a necessity of trust, Miss McGonagall."

Minerva paused, considering this. She hadn't expected this turn of events, but she felt strangely touched that he trusted her enough to allow her into his mind. It briefly crossed her mind that perhaps he genuinely believed she wouldn't be able to. "I'll admit that it's unideal, but I trust you. And I thank you for thinking enough of me to risk your secrets, all for my education."

"That's what teachers do. And I trust you," Dumbledore winked at her before sobering up, not meeting her eyes. "There is another matter."

"Oh, that wasn't all, was it?" Minerva inquired dryly.

"Miss McGonagall, I don't know how to phrase this delicately," he swallowed uncomfortably, shifting slightly. "When you transform for the first time, there is a chance that you will be...unclothed when you transform back into a human. Or, more scarily, you may not transform back, and I will have to intervene. It goes without saying that I do not mean to be inappropriate. I only insist on being there for your safety, and unfortunately, the loss of one's clothes is a gamble one takes."

Minerva studied his expression. He seemed to be oddly self-conscious. She thought about taking pity on him, but after the morning she had endured, she was in the mood for a little teasing of her own. "If there's a chance you might see me naked, please call me Minerva, Professor."

Dumbledore gaped at her. "Miss McGonagall, I'm serious. I don't want you to think I'm taking advantage of you."

"And I know you're not, Professor. You're simply saying that in the pursuit of my education, you might see me naked. That's alright, I'm fine with you being the first..." she trailed off, blushing in horror. "Um, that's not quite what I meant, er- oh, fucking hell." Minerva glanced up at the sky, looking for help and silently praying for salvation. She risked a look at Dumbledore, who seemed to be torn between laughing outright and shrinking in complete and utter embarrassment. She summoned all of her bravery and declared, "I trust you, Professor. This is a professional and collegial relationship meant to broaden my educational horizons. I understand that you are not willingly viewing me without any clothes on."

"I'm glad we understand each other, Miss Mc..." he stopped himself, seeing her glare. "Minerva. I'm glad we understand each other, Minerva."

She beamed. "As am I, Professor. Besides," Minerva grinned cheekily, "if Professor Carter is your type, I'm definitely not."

Dumbledore groaned. "You're also my student. Types aside, that is a line that cannot be crossed." He paused, alarmed at what he had alluded to. "Minerva, do forgive me."

To his horrified amusement, she laughed. "I believe I started it, Professor. Shall we say Thursday for our first session, seeing as we already have a standing appointment?"

"That makes sense to me," he agreed. "Minerva, if I am going to call you by your name during these sessions, then I must insist that you also call me by mine."

Minerva smiled, "I shall see you in class, Albus." Then she ran off, knowing that her good mood would result in Aidan's teasing for the next few weeks, but not finding the energy to care.

Three weeks later, Minerva found herself on Dumbledore's -no, Albus'- floor, groaning as her head pounded. "Was that really necessary?"

"You know the answer is yes." Albus extended a hand and helped her up. "You've been very impressive thus far, managing to occlude my weaker attacks."

Minerva snorted, reaching to rub her back where it had hit the floor. "Basically, what you're saying is that I'm fine if my animal is weak-willed, or if I'm ever captured by very gentle torturers."

His eyes were crinkled in confusion. "Why on earth are you worried about getting captured?"

"We're in the midst of a war, Albus," she pointed out the obvious. "I'm not so naive as to believe that once I graduate, I'll still be kept safe and happy and coddled like I am here."

Albus stared at her. "You are correct, the world will seem very, very different. Are you thinking of joining the war effort?"

"Does it make me a coward if I say no?" Minerva asked hesitantly, not sure she wanted the answer. "I don't have any desire to be an Auror, so that's off the table. I'd also be the worst Medi-Witch the world has ever seen, seeing as I can't stand the sight of blood."

He laughed as her nose wrinkled at the thought, shaking his head. "No, it doesn't make you a coward, Minerva. There is no shame in wanting to dissociate from the thought of war. I would think much less of you if you were the type eager to engage in battle simply for the thrill of the fight. That is more disappointing than simply using your talents elsewhere."

"I'm not Riddle, Albus," Minerva uttered softly. Riddle had gone through a transformation himself over the past few years. He hadn't deigned to talk to her since the diary incident, going so far as to completely ignore her in Slug Club meetings. Ironically, her only interaction with him was when he chased away men that wanted to talk to her. He was still doing that, much to Minerva's growing annoyance, and she no longer found it amusing. Riddle was becoming a charming, talented young man, one with whom the Hogwarts staff had all fallen in love as he grew out of his angsty, violent boyhood. He was even chosen to be a Prefect this year, but Albus had made sure that he never shared a patrol duty with Minerva. Aidan was still leery of him and thought he was creepy, but only Albus and Minerva saw him for what he was: powerful, and all too motivated to wield it.

"Hmm? Oh no, I wasn't thinking of Mr. Riddle," Albus waved his hand dismissively. "No, no. Now, let's try again, shall we? Your initial shields are improving, but you need to create a fortress around your memories. It's not enough to keep someone out; you must make everything impenetrable. Remember, you are emotionless. Ready?"

Minerva nodded, gripping the arms of the chair. "Yes."

In the years to come, Minerva would never be able to forget the feeling of Albus continually penetrating her mental defences. Her mind ached like it never had before. Sometimes he would blow open every memory all at once, the voices of her past self echoing around her head. Other times, she wouldn't even know he was there until she felt a memory shift, a change in the air. Albus was very skilled, and she could see why so many were in awe of his talent. Everything spun around in her head: Diana's broken body, Callum's face when they won the Quidditch Cup for the first time, Aidan's voice when he realized he had performed well enough on his OWLs to still consider being an Auror, the embarrassment at hearing Albus' relationship with Professor Carter implode.

"Enough." Speaking inside of her mind, Minerva did what she could to stop the barrage. "Stop it."

She felt rather than heard Albus' reply. "You need to force me out." To her annoyance, he kept going, travelling through her memories like they were walking in Diagon Alley, and he was merely pointing out the different stores. "Make me move, Minerva."

Minerva realized painfully that her books had failed her here. She could study all she wanted, but nothing would physically prepare her for the mental stamina required to keep the great Albus Dumbledore out of her mind. Relaxing, Minerva focused on building a wall, wrapping it up with chains and locks and vines and steel and planks. She could feel Albus retreat but not entirely withdraw, clearly not expecting her to defend herself with renewed force.

She sensed it before she felt it.

Albus blew her mind open, chilling her defences to the point of freezing. Minerva was in a trance; she didn't have enough power to move, not now. All she could do was stand, frozen helplessly, as he rummaged through every memory. There she was when she was five, her parents fighting over her use of accidental magic, her father snarling "witch" in an irate tone. Her neighbour no longer wanting to play with Minerva when they realized Minerva could make the swings move. The heartbreak of seeing Aidan and Charlotte together, of losing her friendship. Her never-ending fear that Callum wouldn't make it out of the war alive. The moment Riddle gripped her arm, and seeing that memory again broke something inside of her. Her arm seared in pain, visceral as she relived it over and over, her mind coming to the conclusion that Albus was torturing her on purpose. He was trying to teach her a lesson.

Minerva had always been a quick study.

Jolting out of the chair, Minerva pushed back, stronger than she had ever been before. She siphoned the energy out of her pain like she was an addict abusing her hit. It fueled her, made her angry. How dare Albus think he could infiltrate her mind? How dare he make her relive that night? How could he have the audacity to cause her pain in the here and now, when he was the one who had picked up her broken pieces? He was only Albus Dumbledore, not some all-powerful god. A person. No more, no less. People revered his name like he had the power to simultaneously crush and save the world at the same time. Maybe he could, she spared a moment to think fleetingly, but this was her mind. And he wasn't welcome to crush it.

Her mind barricaded itself like a bank, pushing Albus back and away. He fought back but couldn't win. She toyed with him, letting him think he had found a weakness only to eject him from a memory with more force than she had thought possible. They were dancing on the edge of her mind, victory so close for Minerva when both student and teacher compelled their minds forward at the same time.

It was a stalemate. Both froze, unable to move, neither willing to risk the ramifications of being the first to break the hold. Minerva was sweating with the effort, her memories swirling around her like fog on a rainy Scottish morning. Albus seemed to be having the same problem, to her shock, his connection fluttering tenuously. He was so shocked that his defences slipped, almost imperceptibly, but enough. Ruefully wondering why she was always able to win against him, Minerva stormed forward as gently as she could, breaking Albus' defences and entering his mind, his memories hers for the taking.

Albus, age ten. His father seemed to be yelling at some neighbourhood children, impossibly mad about something.

Albus, age thirteen. The Hogwarts staff was so impressed with his natural aptitude for magic.

Albus, age sixteen. He was fighting with a younger man, perhaps a brother. Minerva noted surprisingly that Albus had been attractive when he was her age.

Albus, age seventeen. It looked like a heartbreaking funeral, his younger siblings crying while he stood at the altar, stoically and full of resentment.

Albus, age eighteen. He was easily transforming into a phoenix and back, a similarly aged boy laughing as he did so. The young Albus became human once more, taking the hands of his companion.

"Albus, you are majestic when you do that," the young man smiled, brushing a hair out of Albus' face. "I want one of your feathers, one of these days."

"You want yet another token of my affection?" Albus teased him lovingly, pressing a soft kiss to the boy's lips. "Gellert, you already have so many..."

The scene changed, and the man named Gellert was replaced by Albus' brother.

"Albus, this is fucking insane!" The younger man screamed. "Do you even know what you're talking about? 'For the greater good?' That sounds absolutely fucking ridiculous. You've abandoned caring for Ariana just to spend time with him." The disdain in his voice was venomous. "One day, Albus, Grindelwald will get us all blown up!"

"Oh, Aberforth, you never did have the mind to understand how the world works," Albus sneered. "You don't recognize real, true power."

The two men stared at each other, and suddenly the two were flinging hexes. Gellert was there, too, viciously slashing his wand through the air. A young, red-headed girl entered the room, tiredly resting her head on the doorway. She mumbled something once, twice; the men couldn't hear, wouldn't listen. Stumbling into the fray, she tried to get the attention of her brothers. Spells were blinding flashes of light: gold, blue, green, red. The entire room was in disorienting chaos. All of a sudden, the girl collapsed.

Horrified, Minerva withdrew from Albus' mind. She was pained to see that he was crying silently, tear tracks running down his face from the pain and anguish of having his mind assaulted only to relive his most personal memories. He was shaking, and Minerva had no idea what to do.

"Minerva, I..." Albus trailed weakly, unable -or perhaps unwilling- to meet her eyes again. "That's never happened before, ever."

"Albus, I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean..." she, too, had nothing to say, no words of comfort to offer. They sat in silence, the sound of a clock ticking the only sign that they weren't frozen in time.

It may have been hours or seconds after, but Albus finally took a breath, centering himself back into propriety. "I must apologize for being so hard on you. Three weeks isn't a lot of time; I shouldn't have pressed like that. I wasn't aware that Riddle had caused you so much pain."

Minerva gawked at him. "You were doing your job. Don't pity me. I am the one who is sorry. I pushed too far, I saw so much." She hung her head, allowing the shame to wash over her. "I am very sorry, Albus. Was that...your sister?"

Albus jerked his head in the direction of what one could generously call a nod. "Yes."

They were silent for a few more minutes until Minerva couldn't handle it anymore. "I won't tell anyone what I saw, Albus."

"I know that, Minerva." She was insulted when he rolled his eyes. "I believe I told you at the outset that we would need to trust each other implicitly. You have just proven why it was so important to establish that before we began. And," he snorted indelicately, "you've proven once again why you're the brightest witch to grace these halls since the founders themselves. No one has ever been able to push me like that, not ever. You made me relive things I have not seen in a quarter of a century," Albus ruminated silently, his fingers pressed into his temples.

"Can you get mad at me, Albus?" Minerva felt her ire raise at his willingness to sweep the incident under the rug. "You're far too cavalier about what I saw. Can we, I don't know, discuss it, or something?"

Albus' eyes flashed dangerously. "No, we cannot discuss it. You saw a part of my past that is only known to the people who are in the memories themselves. You did very well with your training, and I believe we can progress on to the next stage."

Minerva couldn't stop herself. "Albus, you know him! You can't expect me to gloss over that. You know Grindelwald-"

"I knew Grindelwald-"

"Exactly, you can stop this! You can prevent people from getting hurt!"

"How would you expect me to do that, hmm? Storm up to him and stick my tongue down his throat, convince him to change his ways?"

Minerva flushed but continued, encouraged by his emotional response. "Surely you can do something! Give information to the Ministry, anything!"

"And when I have to share those memories to prove my reports, Minerva? Then what? Will you be happy when I get carted off to Azkaban for obstruction of justice? For withholding possible aid to the war effort? Who will teach you then?"

"Your reputation will protect you, everyone-"

"Don't insult me with such idiocy, Minerva," Albus thundered. "Do not make me regret trusting you."

She glared at him silently. No one had ever insulted her intelligence before, and she wasn't at all impressed that he had been the first. Willing herself to keep calm lest she further disrupt their relationship, Minerva spoke, her tone icy. "I'm not an idiot, Albus, and I don't appreciate being treated as such. And it is below you to place the blame for your actions -inactions- on me."

Albus glared right back, contemplating why she felt she could speak to him in such a manner, and why he was inclined to let her get away with it. "I will forgive you your insolence just this once, Minerva, given what you have just seen. We'll euphemistically call it a shell-shocked reaction. We shall move on to the next phase of this process. Here," he tersely Summoned a Mandrake leaf from his cabinet. "You are to put this in your mouth at the next full moon, which I believe is Saturday, and keep it there for the next thirty days. At that time, you can come and see me, and we'll continue."

Her eyes fixed on his, hurt, confusion and anger shining through. "You will not dismiss me so readily, Albus. You will not bully me into forgoing the academic part of our sessions. That would be a dereliction of duty on your part. While perhaps not as incriminating or salacious, you have also seen my memories. You also know parts of my soul that no one else knows. It is not only you that is affected by this," Minerva half-lectured, half-hissed, snatching the Mandrake leaf off the desk. "I will be back here Thursday, prepared to discuss with you the finer points of Gamp's advanced theories. And when I return, you will be prepared to teach me. Good evening, Albus." She stalked out of the room, maintaining her composure as the door clicked shut behind her. Only when she was around the corner did Minerva finally allow herself to cry.