A/N: Buckle up. ;) Thanks for reading!

For the disclaimer, please see the prologue.

Chapter Eighteen: October 30, 1943

"Weasley, kindly remove the sticking charm from the wall," Minerva snapped at the second-year. Today the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang contingents would be arriving, and Minerva and Aidan were under strict orders to keep the student population well-behaved. "Wilson, clean your hands. You have dirt all over them."

"I don't really get all of this fuss," Aidan whispered to her. "Sure, they're different schools, but they're students, just like us. They won't all be perfect, surely."

"I'd rather not come off looking like Hogwarts can't get its act together," Minerva scoffed. "Besides, we don't make the rules. We just enforce them."

"What a stupid system," he muttered. "Oi, Plinchet, watch it! Get off the bannister!" Aidan ran off to force the wayward student off the stairs.

"You doing okay?" Michael sidled up to Minerva, bumping his hip against hers. "You seem stressed."

"If you could find some way to tame the entire student population, you would be my favourite person alive," Minerva admitted. "Today of all days, they're all acting like toddlers."

"They're excited," Michael reminded her. "Can you blame them? We've never been able to interact with another school before."

"I know," Minerva groaned. "They're just going to get so much worse."

"We'll have a house-elf on call with tea every night," he promised her. "Want me to lead the upper years into the Hall?"

"Yes, please," Minerva squeezed his hand gratefully. "I appreciate it."

"I know," he winked and off he went.

"Miss McGonagall," a familiar voice boomed from behind her, making her jump. "Sorry about that."

"Merlin, you're going to give me a heart attack," Minerva turned, placing her hand over her heart.

"You're slipping in your old age if I can get away with sneaking up on you," Albus laughed. "Are all of the students ready?"

"They better be, at this point. And if not, well, we can always put a cloaking spell on them," Minerva smiled grimly. "Have the other schools arrived yet?"

"Only just," he told her. "The Headmaster wants everyone seated as quickly as possible so they can make their grand entrances."

"How grand are these entrances going to be?" Minerva arched an eyebrow.

"Grand enough to compete with the grandeur of our castle, surely," Albus muttered. "It'll be a display you'll remember, that's for certain. Lead them in, will you?"

"Of course," Minerva nodded briskly. She turned to the students. "Alright, everyone head in. Remember, it's your best behaviour or bust tonight. We will take house points away." She followed the last of them in, slipping into her usual seat beside Aidan at the table. There was a lot less room at the table tonight, given the need to accommodate two extra-large tables in the Hall. Charlotte was practically in Aidan's lap.

"Attention, please!" Dippet bellowed from the podium at the Head Table. "It is my great pleasure to welcome the fine ladies of Beauxbatons!"

The doors opened, and about one hundred students entered the room. They didn't so much enter as dance, their feet gliding along the stone floor. Their sapphire dresses floated around them as they moved, music guiding their way.

"Woah," Aidan choked. "Michael, do you see them?"

"Of course I see-" Michael stopped upon seeing Minerva's warning glare. "What about them, Aidan?"

"They're bloody perfect!" Aidan's eyes widened as a brunette dropped an orchid on his plate.

"If you fancy having a girlfriend, you'll shut up," Charlotte said airily. "I can find another place to sit that's not your lap, you know."

"Can we get you one of these dresses?" Aidan asked, his eyes never leaving the dancing girls.

"Aidan, you really are an idiot," Michael shook his head. "Charlotte, he'll be back to himself in an hour or two."

"Oh, he better be. I'll be screaming at him if he's not," Charlotte pinched his arm. "For fuck's sakes, Aidan, don't be so obvious."

The music reached a crescendo, and the girls parted, allowing an older woman to walk in between the rows. "Bonjour, Hogwarts. Je m'appelle Madame Dubois. I am the Headmistress of Beauxbatons. C'est un plaisir d'être ici."

"Did you know they'd speak French? I don't understand French," Aidan muttered under his breath.

"No? Pity," Charlotte snapped, and Minerva and Michael had to bite back laughs.

"Merci et bienvenue," Dippet welcomed them, his horrible French accent causing some laughter amongst the crowd. "Please, sit over here." He gestured at the table to his right. "And now, Durmstrang!"

It was Charlotte's turn to gasp. "They're gorgeous. Min, aren't they gorgeous?"

Minerva had to admit that she certainly didn't mind looking at the men. They all seemed to be attractive, and she quite enjoyed watching them as they marched into the Hall without a care for the spectators.

"Char better be talking about their cloaks," Aidan growled at Michael. "Don't you think?"

"I reckon you don't have a leg to stand on at the moment, mate," Michael ran a hand through his hair. "I don't enjoy this any more than you do, though."

A very tall man stepped up to the podium beside Dippet. "Evening, Hogwarts. I am Professor Torin, the Headmaster at Durmstrang. Thank you all," Torin's beady eyes roamed over the Hall, "for your warm hospitality."

"How wonderful this is!" Dippet clasped his hands together excitedly. "Durmstrang, please take your seats! Now, we are so very thrilled to be your hosts here for the next year. We hope that Hogwarts will prove to be a welcoming and safe home for you. The Triwizard Tournament is a wonderful example of international cooperation, and we look forward to seeing it unfold over the coming months. As you all know, our champions will be selected tomorrow night- one from each school. Here to tell us more about that is Mr. Bagman, a Ministry representative."

There was far less clapping for Mr. Bagman than there had been for Callum, even with the addition of two schools. "Right, well, um, thank you, Professor, I mean Headmaster, Dippet, sir," Mr. Bagman nodded at Dippet. "We are very -I mean we at the Ministry- are excited, no, joyous, that you will all participate in this tournament. Well, not all of you, but some of you. The champions, of course, and then the rest of you will participate through your passion and support..."

Aidan interrupted the poor man's ramblings. "This oaf can't finish a sentence. What sorts of people are the Ministry hiring nowadays?"

"I doubt he was hired yesterday," Minerva commented drily, observing the many wrinkles lining his face. "Even still, I'm sure he's good at his job."

"He's obviously not-" Aidan started, but Charlotte interrupted him.

"Shut up! He's talking about the tournament that you seem hell-bent on entering," she admonished.

Bagman let out a wild laugh. "Here, I have, well not me, but our wonderful workers here, have the Goblet of Fire! You have until half-past six tomorrow evening -or is that considered nighttime? I'm not sure- to drop your name in the Goblet. All you need to do is write your name and your school on a piece of parchment -make sure it's legible, please- and place, drop, levitate your parchment into the Goblet. This time tomorrow, the Goblet will select our three champions. That's it, thank you." Bagman mopped at his brow nervously and sat back down beside Madam Prewett, who patted his hand kindly.

"Oof," Michael shook his head, "I feel bad for that guy. He's going to need a stiff drink after this."

"So, do you reckon we can just go and put our names in?" Aidan rubbed his hands excitedly. "C'mon Min, let's go!"

"Aidan, I haven't yet decided if I'm going to enter."

"You literally have less than twenty-four hours. You better decide quickly."

"Thank you, Aidan," Minerva pursed her lips. "I wasn't aware of that."

"I wanted to put our names in together," Aidan whined. "I want to do it now."

"What about tomorrow during our spare period? It's in the morning, so if I decide to enter, we can do it after breakfast. And if I decide not to do it, then you'll get to do it tomorrow, and nothing bad really happened to you," Minerva suggested.

"I feel like I'm losing here either way," Aidan squinted at her, "but fine."

"Now that that's settled," Charlotte stood up, "Aidan, how about we go upstairs and have a nice chat, shall we?"

Aidan swallowed and took her hand. "I'm doomed, man," he whispered at Michael as he left.

"Good luck, mate," Michael called out at their retreating figures. Then, he turned to face Minerva. "Are we going to talk about you entering this tournament?"

"What do you think I should do?" Minerva asked.

"I'm not going to tell you what I think you should do. I want to know what you want to do."

Minerva laughed, "That's one of your more redeeming qualities." She sobered for a moment. "I don't think I know what I want to do."

"So talk it out," Michael waited patiently.

"I don't really want to die," Minerva said slowly. "I know that's a bit dramatic coming from me, but it's true. These things are dangerous, and even the most careful of witches can get seriously hurt."

"I don't want to see you hurt, either. And yet," Michael rubbed her arm, "I can sense a 'but' in there somewhere."

"But I want to win, Michael!" Minerva relaxed, finally saying the words aloud. "I want to try and see if I can do it. I want the galleons for what they can do for me later. And," she smiled wryly, "a part of me wants the title. I don't relish the fame, mind you, but I like winning things. If the Goblet doesn't pick me, then that's fine, but I don't want my fear to be the thing that stops me."

"So you enter, and whatever happens, happens. If you're not chosen, it wasn't meant to be. If you are, we get you ready as best as we can," Michael grinned. "I think, either way, I win: either you're safe, or my girlfriend becomes the biggest badass this school has ever seen."

Minerva wanted to laugh, but she couldn't help remembering Albus' tired face when he had suggested she shouldn't enter. "You won't be disappointed in me if I enter?"

His forehead wrinkled. "Why would I be disappointed in you? It's a really cool, brave thing to do."

"I," Minerva shook her head, "I think people expect me to be more responsible and safe than I am."

"Prove them wrong. Now, shall we head to bed?" Michael blushed when her eyebrows quirked at his question. "Um, I just mean-"

"I think we both need some sleep," Minerva giggled uncharacteristically, taking his hand as she stood up. "I need to prepare myself. I have a tournament to enter in the morning."

"Ready, Min?" Aidan held his hand out to help her up from the breakfast table, which was rapidly emptying as the bell signaled the start of all first-period classes. "Let's do this!"

"It's too early in the morning to be this excited," Minerva grumbled, accepting his help.

"Need I remind you that you chose the time of day?"

"And aren't you happy that you waited? I'm entering now, aren't I?" Minerva scoffed, not waiting for an answer. "You've got your parchment ready and everything?"

"Yup, here!" Aidan produced it with a flourish. "Look okay to you?"

"Yeah, if your name is now Aidan Scrimheout," Minerva rolled her eyes. "Fix it, will you? Because no one will know who that is."

"Merlin, how did you screw up your own name?" Michael was shaking with laughter. "Mate, you can be such an idiot."

"Well, I still love you," Charlotte declared, pecking Aidan's cheek. "And he won't be laughing when my boyfriend is the champion, and his girlfriend is not." She winked at Michael and Minerva; Charlotte was only trying to raise Aidan's spirits, nothing more. "Now, can you please do this so we can move on with our lives?"

"All fixed," Aidan noted. "Let's go!"

So the two friends that had met six years ago, and who had together taken their first steps in the castle, dropped their names in the Goblet simultaneously. The Goblet hissed, drawing the papers into its depths like they had never existed in the first place.

"And now we wait," Minerva sighed, turning to the others. "I know we've only just had breakfast, but would anyone want a cup of tea?"

"Sure, I could go for that," Michael said, but Minerva wasn't paying attention anymore.

Beyond her friends, she could see Albus at the front of the Hall, his face resigned as he took in the sight of Minerva near the Goblet. Her heart sank, crashing into the floor when he turned on his heel. "On second thought, start without me. I'll be right back," she assured her friends, running out of the Hall.

"Professor, wait!" Minerva caught up to him. "I wanted to tell you myself. I didn't mean for you to just see it."

"Miss McGonagall, we both know you were hoping that I wouldn't find out," Albus told her, his eyebrow raising. "Although how you thought you'd keep me in the dark if you were chosen as Champion, I have no idea. Care to enlighten me?"

Minerva felt her face flush. "Okay, no, I hadn't really thought that far ahead. I don't think I will be chosen, though, so really, there would have been no harm done."

"Why are you so insistent on downplaying your own abilities?" Albus clucked his tongue. "Surely, you know that you are one of the most powerful people in this castle. Most certainly, you are the student with the greatest talent."

"I wouldn't say that," Minerva sighed. "I do know that I have a good chance of being picked, but I have this feeling that someone out there deserves it more than me."

"Ah, that may be true," Albus inclined his head, "but I don't believe that the Goblet takes merit and choice into consideration."

"Are you...disappointed in me, Professor?" Minerva inquired hesitantly. "I was worried after our talk that you would think less of me for entering."

"I don't think less of you, nor do I think I ever could," Albus released a weary breath. "And please, don't think I was disappointed in you. It wasn't disappointment. It was fear. Go back to your friends, Miss McGonagall. I shall see you this evening for the big reveal. I wish you the best of luck," Albus smiled kindly, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"Professor!" Minerva protested, but to no avail. All she could do was watch his retreating form and wonder why it brought her such pain to see him so tormented.

"Here it is!" Dippet announced grandly. "The moment we've all been waiting for! The Goblet will release one name from each school. If you are one of the selected champions, please come forward and through this doorway here." He pointed at the door that Minerva and Aidan had gone through on the first day back at school. "There will be a brief meeting for the champions and their professors. That will be all until the first task, which will be held on the 24th of November. Now, let's begin!"

Dippet Summoned the Goblet towards him. It hissed, spitting out blue and silver flames. The entire Great Hall was silent as a piece of parchment slowly flew into the air. Dippet reached out and softly cupped it in his hands. "The Beauxbatons champion is...Élodie LaFontaine!"

There was polite applause as the girl made her way up to the Head Table. She was beautiful, her chestnut hair rolling down her back as she grinned and waved to the crowd. Minerva and Charlotte exchanged an eye roll as Élodie headed into the passageway.

"Now," Dippet held out his hand in anticipation, "the Durmstrang champion is...Vlad Karkaroff!"

Instead of applause, Karkarff's selection seemed to incite grunts of approval from the crowd. Headmaster Torin met him at the Table, shaking his hand firmly. He led his student out of the Hall, their heads bowed together.

"And finally," Dippet smiled, unable to hide his bias, "it's time for the Goblet to choose our Hogwarts champion!

Not unexpectedly, given the number of Hogwarts students, a loud cheer echoed through the Hall. Aidan threw a nervous glance at Minerva, and she returned it. Michael squeezed her hand. Why does everything momentous happen so slowly? Minerva wondered, waiting for the piece of parchment to fly into Dippet's expectant hands. She looked around the room: Poppy was paler than Peeves, Rowena was chewing her hair, and Albus' eyes seemed to tighten suddenly.

And that's when she saw it.

Not one but two parchments were making an appearance, hissing at each other as they fought for an unobstructed path out of the Goblet. Too impatient to care, Dippet snatched them both out of the air. Minerva noted sickeningly that his hands were now trembling.

"Tom Riddle!" Dippet half-yelled, half-screamed. "And Minerva McGonagall!"

Minerva's eyes widened, and her body froze. What kind of sick, twisted kismet would land her in the tournament against Riddle? "This can't be happening. No, no no. This isn't happening." Her wild eyes met Michael's. "No, this isn't real."

"Min, it is, and you need to go," Michael nudged her gently. "Riddle's on his way up already. You've got to go see Dippet."

"This isn't supposed to happen," Minerva muttered, disoriented as she stood up. She cast a searching glance across the room, walking forward. Whispers were emanating throughout the Hall. Some were nice, others weren't. Steeling herself, she nodded at Dippet as she passed. He nodded glumly at her, and she continued on. Minerva met Albus' eyes briefly, and his eyes were ablaze with what Minerva could only call a murderous gleam. She stumbled into the small room and found Riddle already there. He appeared to be explaining the situation to Élodie and Vlad.

For the first time in her five years of knowing him, Riddle seemed flustered. "I don't know what happened, but both our names came out of the Goblet."

"Qu'est-ce qui se passe ici?" Élodie snapped, turning to Vlad. "Il y en a deux?"

"I don't speak French," Vlad replied. "If you want me to answer you, speak in English."

Minerva sighed, turning to Élodie. "Je ne sais pas pourquoi, mais la Coupe nous ont choisis, tous les deux."

Élodie's sneer deepened viciously. "You expect me to believe the Goblet just happened to name two champions for Hogwarts?"

"Oh, so you do speak English," Vlad muttered. "How kind of you to let the rest of us know."

The Frenchwoman opened her mouth to retort, no doubt meanly, but a cacophony of yells and shouts interrupted her. Minerva closed her eyes in preparation for the incoming onslaught.

"Miss McGonagall, I must ask you," Dippet approached her as he entered the room, "did you hoodwink the Goblet of Fire?"

"Headmaster, no, of course, I didn't," Minerva answered, aghast. "You know I wouldn't do anything like that!"

"And you, Mr. Riddle? Did you do anything to increase your chances of being selected?"

"No, Headmaster. I simply entered my name in it last evening. I wrote 'Tom Riddle, Hogwarts', and that was the end of it," Riddle lifted his lips into a charming smile. "Mayhap the Goblet deemed both McGonagall and I here to be worthy of the challenge."

"Dippet, this is asinine!" Torin shouted. "They were obviously in on it together!

"Professor Torin, I can assure you that they didn't charm the Goblet," Albus said calmly, leaning against a pillar. If one were to look closely enough, a slight tremor in his hands was visible. "The Goblet is protected against all magical hoodwinking. We all," Albus gestured at the gathered staff, "saw to that together, along with various Ministry personnel."

"Of which her brother is one!" Dubois exclaimed angrily. "Surely, her brother charmed it for her!"

"Are you really going to question the authority of one of our Ministry officials, Madame?" Albus asked.

"Oui, I think I will," Dubois sneered. "It is not fair for us to travel so far to have Hogwarts rig the contest outright. I want to know what happened here! Do you keep Veritaserum on hand? We can charm the truth out of her!"

"Really, Dubois, that seems a bit much," Dippet tried weakly. "They're just-"

"I consent to Veritaserum if required," Minerva interjected coldly, causing the professors to turn to her. "However, the use of Veritaserum on students is forbidden here in Great Britain, so perhaps you could decide on a legal form of interrogation? That would be much more agreeable to me, and most likely to the Ministry folk that you seem to also want to subject to your medieval methods."

The Headmistress was not impressed with Minerva's wit. She stormed over to Minerva, her nails digging into the younger woman's arm. "What gives you the right to speak to me in such a manner? How dare you address me in that tone? Who do you think you are, hmmm?"

"Madame Dubois, you will unhand my student," Albus demanded furiously. When she didn't release Minerva right away, he repeated himself, this time allowing power to ooze out of his voice. "You will unhand my student immediately, Madame."

Minerva felt her chest warm when he referred to her as his. She moved to step away from Dubois, but she didn't quite let her go.

Instead, Dubois hissed quietly at Minerva, twisting her arm before releasing her. "Quelle chienne."

Minerva stared at the woman. Her French was far from perfect, but she knew enough to know that the Headmistress had just called her a bitch. From the angry look on Albus' face, he had understood her meaning, as well.

"Wellllll," Dippet elongated the word, not sure how to handle the situation that had presented itself before him. "Having known Miss McGonagall for as long as I have, I know her to have more moral fibre than you suggest, Madame. I believe that she, along with Mr. Riddle, would prefer to earn their spot here, rather than charm their way in. I can understand the frustration, though; undoubtedly, Albus and I would be upset if the situation were reversed! When the Ministry delegation arrives tomorrow, they can inspect the Goblet for any signs of tampering. And," Dippet added, heading off Torin's opening mouth, "we can exclude Mr. McGonagall from partaking in that investigation if you wish. But I will not have his career jeopardized because of mere suspicion, is that understood? He is a Ministry official, and shall be treated as such."

Upon seeing Torin and Dubois's terse nods, the Headmaster continued. "Now that we've taken care of that unpleasantness, champions, please listen. As I mentioned in the Hall, the first task will take place on the 24th of November. You won't get any more help than that, and as is customary for the tournament, professors and staff are unable to help you with any of the tasks..." Dippet trailed off as Torin led Vlad out of the room, muttering in his ear. Dubois and Élodie followed suit.

"What are the chances they'll listen to that last bit?" Dippet smiled weakly at Albus. "Do either of you want to debrief anything?" He looked at Minerva and Tom.

"Armando, if you don't mind, I think it would be a good idea for you to spend some time here with Mr. Riddle," Albus answered smoothly. "You know him better than I do, and surely he wouldn't refuse the help. I can talk to Miss McGonagall. I am her Head, after all."

"What a splendid idea, Albus," Dippet mopped his brow, glad that someone else had decided on a course of action. "Mr. Riddle, would you like to follow me back to my office?"

Riddle glared at Minerva as he walked by. "See you at the first task, McGonagall. I look forward to besting you once and for all. Those galleons are mine."

"To the victor goes the spoils," Minerva quipped. "Have a good evening, Riddle." She smiled, and when he realized he wasn't going to successfully get a rise out of her, Riddle turned and followed Dippet from the room.

"Shall we head to my office?" Albus gestured at the door. "I believe we have a lot to discuss."

"After you." Minerva walked just behind him, lost in thought. Not only was she chosen as a champion, but Riddle was her co-champion. Albus wouldn't be pleased about that development, and as they entered his office, she steeled herself for his reaction.

He sat down opposite her at his desk and served the tea as though it were a regular Thursday evening, and they had nothing to do but play Wizard's Chess. Albus merely fiddled with his teacup, evidently waiting for her to speak.

Minerva wasn't in the mood to wait him out. "Alright, Albus, let's hear it."

"Pardon me?"

"Let's hear it. Let's hear about how you were right, and I was wrong, and that this was a very dumb, juvenile idea."

"I don't believe I ever said it was a dumb idea, Minerva." His voice was soft. "I was worried about your safety. I'm even more concerned now. I don't trust Mr. Karkaroff, nor Mademoiselle LaFontaine, not now that they feel hard done by. And," he scoffed, "my feelings towards Mr. Riddle and his regard -or lack thereof- for your safety have always been perfectly clear."

"I hadn't realized that I wouldn't be able to ask for help," Minerva admitted faintly. "I wasn't under the impression that I would be completely alone in this."

"Oh, I'll definitely be helping you now," Albus answered grimly. "Torin isn't the brightest wizard I've ever met, but he doesn't like being wronged, and as you could undoubtedly gauge from Dubois' charming vocabulary, she appears to blame you for tonight's series of events. I have no doubt they'll be making sure their students know what's coming. Knowing Armando, he'll be charmed by Riddle into helping him. I don't wish you to be underprepared, or, shall we say, disadvantaged, because I didn't help you."

"Can't I get removed from the tournament for that? Isn't that cheating?" Minerva asked.

Albus snorted, "You'd think so, but no. It's the one rule that no one follows, and that everyone gets away with. The Goblet of Fire is, in essence, a legally binding contract. You chose to enter, knowing what the consequences would be, and the Goblet selected you. Despite what the Ministry would have you believe, receiving help from a professor does not break that contract. The only way for the contract to be broken is if a champion doesn't participate. Someone tried to get out of it about a hundred and fifty years ago, and when they didn't show up to the first task, their leg was chopped off by a wayward slicing hex."

"That's horrific," Minerva muttered.

"Yes, and that's why this tournament is so dangerous," Albus said firmly. "I will help you to the best of my abilities, and that's all there is to it."

"I sincerely appreciate that Albus, considering how much you didn't want me to enter."

"Minerva," he began, "I wouldn't leave you alone in this, do you understand? You made the best decision for you, and I respect it, regardless of whether I agreed. Given everything that's happened tonight, I would feel much, much worse if I refused to help you."

She allowed herself a tight smile. "Albus, I want you to know why I decided to throw my name into the Goblet."

"Minerva, you've already told me your reasons. You don't need to continuously explain yourself to me."

"I do, though," Minerva exclaimed, exasperated. "I need you to know that it wasn't the fame or the glory that enticed me. It was a fleeting thought, certainly, but I want to win. I'm competitive, and I'm not ashamed of it. It's something to win, something that I can use to prove that I can do whatever it is I want to do. And," she carried on ruefully, "the galleons would prove very useful.

"I need you to understand this. I need you to understand my motives and that I'm not bowing down to some sort of dark, vengeful quest for power." Both Minerva and Albus knew she was alluding to Grindelwald, and both were intelligent enough not to mention it. "Albus, I can't articulate it, exactly, but I need you to believe me here. What you think of me will always be a consideration in anything I might try to do. Your opinion means more to me than anyone else's, and it will always matter to me."

"I don't quite believe that that's true," Albus smiled kindly. "Surely, Mr. Scrimgeour or Miss Creevey's words would have more of an impact than my own. Or Mr. Rosin's, as of late?"

"No," Minerva responded adamantly, shaking her head. "No, your opinion matters most to me."

She reddened as she realized just how true that statement was, and she spared a fleeting thought to wonder why that was the case.

Albus' cheeks flushed of their own accord at her words. "That's very kind of you, Minerva. I can only hope to be worthy of your trust in me."

"You got me through the Animagus thing well enough, in the end," Minerva exhaled wryly. "Surely a dangerous tournament with three other students can't be that hard?"

"I know you're joking, but I am fearful," Albus confessed. "We have an interesting line to toe, as it were. My main concern is keeping you safe and alive; winning is secondary to all of that. However, if I help you too much, people might suspect that Callum is the one aiding you, not myself. I don't wish to risk your brother's career."

"Nor do I," Minerva said fiercely.

"I didn't think so," he sighed. "We have to make sure you're prepared enough that you avoid injury, but not so prepared that you make it look easy. And you make everything look easy as it is," Albus added. "What troubles me is how much help the other champions will be getting. They don't have a Callum to worry about, as it were. They'll be taking as much help as they can get. They'll only hold back enough so that it doesn't look like the whole tournament is a farce."

"Do you know anything about the task yet, Albus?" Minerva asked.

"All I know is that it will take place during the afternoon by the Black Lake."

"By the Black Lake, or in it?"

"I meant what I said, Minerva," Albus said, amused. "By the Black Lake. As I get more information, I will tell you what I can. We will train Thursdays, as usual."

"Can we add another training session per week, if you have the time for it?" Minerva hesitated. "It's just that without any quidditch practice, I have a lot of extra time on my hands. I might as well spend it getting ready."

"I think something can be arranged," he smiled. "Shall I let you get back now? It's getting late, and I would bet my month's paycheque that Mr. Scrimgeour and Mr. Rosin are waiting up for you."

"You're probably right," Minerva agreed. "Thank you, Albus."

"No need to thank me. I'd do it for any of my students," he winked.

"Maybe, but we both know I'm your favourite," she shot back, a teasing smile on her lips.

Albus had a startled look on his face. Minerva worried she had ruined the moment, but his mouth opened into a wide smile. "That may be true, but I can hardly say that in public, now can I?"

She laughed, "That wouldn't go over too well, no. Goodnight, Albus."

"Goodnight, Minerva." She felt his gaze watch over her as she left and shut the door firmly behind her.

When Minerva arrived at Gryffindor Tower, she wasn't at all surprised to see that Albus' prediction was correct: Michael and Aidan were waiting for her, along with Charlotte.

"Min!" Michael's voice was clearly relieved. "Are you okay? Do you need anything? Want anything? We could ask the elves for some tea?"

Minerva smiled, sliding in beside him. "No, thank you. I just had tea in Al-Dumbledore's office."

"Oi, are you in trouble because it picked two of you?" Aidan leaned in, eagerly awaiting the gossip.

"No, I'm not in trouble," Minerva rolled her eyes, frowning when she remembered Madame Dubois. "Although, I think the French headmistress wants my head on a spike. She seems to think Callum helped me bewitch the Goblet, or something equally asinine."

"Callum would never do something so stupid as that!" Charlotte gasped. "What did Riddle say?"

"Well, we obviously didn't collude, and I highly doubt that Riddle wanted to share the spotlight," Minerva mused. "He looked as shocked as I felt, and he didn't say much. Dumbledore and Dippet agreed that Dumbledore would help me, and Dippet would help Riddle."

"Well, you're in much better hands. Dumbledore'll take care of you," Michael commented.

"What?" Minerva's head snapped up. "What do you mean?"

"Just that Dumbledore is clearly the superior wizard," he frowned, rubbing her back. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I probably could use a glass of whiskey," Minerva admitted. "It's been a long night."

"Next time we're in Hogsmeade, we'll get you some," Charlotte promised her. "But now that you're back, I think I'll head to bed. I'm knackered, so I can't even begin to imagine how you're feeling, Minerva. I'll see you all in the morning, yeah?"

"If you're heading up, I should go to bed, too," Aidan sighed, pushing himself up off the couch. He turned back to face them. "Min, even if I wish it were me, I'm glad it's you. This way, I get all of the fun but none of the risk."

Minerva's heart swelled as she realized he wasn't angry with her. "I'm sure you'll be asking for some galleons if you help me, and I win, right?"

"Only a ten percent cut," Aidan winked. "Night, Michael."

"Night, mate." Michael waited until the other two disappeared up their respective staircases before talking, wrapping her up in his arms. "Are you really feeling alright?"

"I wish it were just me from Hogwarts, but most of all, I wish it had been anyone but Riddle," Minerva murmured into his chest. "He's going to do anything he can to beat me, and the other two looked like they hated me just because the Goblet decided to pull a Houdini and trick us all."

"If they're so concentrated on beating you, they won't be thinking about winning," Michael said, and she felt him grin into her hair. "We'll get you through it, you know. You're not alone in this."

"I know, I know," Minerva bristled at the gentle chastising, and Michael laughed at her reaction. "I'm fortunate to have all of you."

"They don't have the team that you have around you supporting you. They're not nearly as intelligent or talented as you are. They're not as capable as you are." He hammered his point home. "And if you don't win, that's okay. It's okay to lose. Losing doesn't mean failure, Min."

"My competitiveness disagrees with you there." She looked up at him, sighing as they locked eyes. "Don't you miss quidditch, and how easy that was?"

"Miss quidditch? Never," Michael shuddered. "I only joined so that I could spend time with you. Now I get to do that without hopping on a broom and beating away bewitched bludgers."

"Oh," Minerva said faintly. "I hadn't realized that."

"No, I didn't think you had," Michael grinned, and when he leaned down to kiss her, Minerva let herself get lost in the warmth of his arms and the gentle press of his lips against hers.