A/N: Thank you all for your kind words.

For the disclaimer, please see the prologue.

Chapter Nineteen: November 1943

"Are you absolutely certain that we don't need to practice anymore?" Minerva asked, her hands fidgeting in her lap.

"I'm positive. The first task is tomorrow, and we've done the best we can. You need to rest and relax now. It wouldn't do to overtax yourself and then underperform tomorrow," Albus smiled gently. "You'll be fine, Minerva. You're ready."

"How can I be ready for something when I don't even know what's coming?" Minerva exploded, her hands flying out in exasperation. "Honestly, what we know is limited to three things: it will be held by the Black Lake, it's a timed contest, and it's some sort of obstacle course. That's not really helpful, now is it?"

"We've done a thorough recapitulation of everything you've ever learned in a Defence course, plus what you'll be expected to know for your NEWTs. Whatever you may possibly face, we'll have thought of it. You're quick on your feet; you'll know what to do. And, as we discovered," Albus grimaced, holding up his recently broken-and-then-healed arm, "you're quite the duelist."

"I really am sorry about that, Albus," Minerva winced. In one of their sessions, she had managed to somehow cast a Reducto on only the bones in his left forearm. Neither of them was quite sure how she had managed it, but both had admitted the magic was impressive nonetheless.

"It was alright, Madam Prewett patched me up in the end," Albus said merrily, as though they were selecting chocolates to order.

"It sounded painful."

"Well, it did hurt," he admitted, "but all's well that ends well."

"That's what I'll be saying about this tournament if I make it out alive," Minerva muttered. "I'm starting to wish I had listened to you."

"And that's the first time anyone has said that," Albus laughed. "Are you sure you don't want to do something to take your mind off of it? Play some Wizard's Chess, perhaps?"

She snorted, "No, Albus, I do not want to play Wizard's Chess. I couldn't beat you if my life depended on it, and right now, I need to build my confidence up."

"If it's not what you need at the moment, it's not what you need." Albus flicked his wrist, and the pieces flew back into their proper place on his mantle. "Something is bothering you, and it's not just the task tomorrow. What is it?"

"You're not going to like this," Minerva warned. She handed him a folded up letter that had the Ministry's official stamp imprinted upon it. "I found this in last week's batch of essays, and I wasn't sure how to tell you that I had seen it."

Albus sighed, eyeing the paper but not opening it. "Is this what I think it is?"

"Probably." Minerva closed her eyes in anticipation of his reaction. "Were you ever planning on telling me that the Ministry was formally requesting you officially join the war effort to go and defeat Grindelwald?"

"No, I can't say that I was." Albus raised his teacup to his lips in a move to silence himself, dropping the pretense -and the cup- when Minerva arched her eyebrow. "I rather thought that you had a lot going on at the moment."

"I would concur with that statement, but I rely on your presence here and would surely be affected by your leaving. No matter what I have going on, I would like to know before you dash away in the dark of the night!"

"I'm not going to dash away at any time, let alone in the dark of the night," Albus' lips quirked into a smile. "I'm not going to go at all."

"Won't the Ministry, I don't know, arrest you for that?" Minerva breathed.

"They can't arrest me for not going to war. The Ministry doesn't have a conscription law," Albus pointed out. "No, I'll merely have to handle some disgruntled Ministry officials, that's all."

Minerva nodded and then narrowed her eyes, remembering an earlier conversation with him. "Are you soul-bonded to Grindelwald, Albus?"

"Minerva, where in the devil did that question come from?" Albus' jaw dropped open.

"When you told me about soul-bonds, you said that there wasn't a known case in years. You also mentioned that the existence of a soul-bond was possible and maybe just not known to the public. So," Minerva shrugged, "a soul-bond may be why you don't want to fight him. You might not be able to. It would also explain why you were in such a state after I saw your memories."

All he could do was stare at his student and wonder at how her mind worked the way it did. "As impressive as that conclusion is, Minerva, the answer is no. No, I am not soul-bonded to Gellert."

"Ah, well, it was worth the guess."

"Quite." Albus paused, eyeing her. He sighed heavily before continuing, "While I will confess that I do not want to face off against Gellert because of our previous relationship, that is not why I do not wish to join the war right now. I'm afraid that I cannot leave Hogwarts at this juncture."

"Why is that?"

"Because of you, Minerva."

She felt breathless as her heart stopped. "I am not as important as the entire wizarding world, surely."

"That would depend on who you ask, as I'm sure your brother would feel differently," Albus said carefully. "I made you a promise that I would see you through this year, and I intend to keep that promise."

"Did you ever actually promise? I won't hold you to that, not when it's weighed against the war effort," Minerva told him quickly.

"I may not have said the actual word," Albus replied drily, "but it is what I meant. I need to make sure you get through this year. Preferably unscathed."

"I don't know what I did to deserve your protection, Albus, but I am indebted to you," Minerva smiled, then crinkled her eyes. "You'll have to go at some point, though, won't you?"

"To fight Gellert? Presumably, yes. For some reason, the Ministry believes I am the only person who can successfully duel him and end the war. I won't be able to evade their letters forever," Albus chuckled wryly. "After this year, it might be a good time for a sabbatical. Take some time to change gears, flex a different muscle."

"But what will I do without you here?" Minerva whispered.

"You won't be here, either," Albus reminded her kindly. "You'll be off studying, getting your mastery so that you can sit on my side of this desk one day."

It suddenly hit her that she wouldn't be returning to Hogwarts. There wouldn't be any more nights in the common room, laughing and studying; no more Thursday nights with Albus; no more Quidditch and house cups for which to compete. She was truly almost at the end of her journey here, and that made her stomach twist like nothing else ever had.

"I don't think I've faced that just yet," she confessed, looking down at the desk.

"I can tell." His voice was heartbreakingly gentle. "Minerva, you will do so many wonderful things in this world. Hogwarts will still be here to welcome you home when you're ready for it. You need time to thrive in the wizarding world by yourself, away from school, away from me, away from your friends. Make some bad decisions, stay out too late, meet new people, travel. Allow life to change you so that when you return -because I have no doubt that you will achieve your goals- you're that much better of a teacher for your adventures."

While the entire monologue was both comforting and flattering, Minerva only had ears for one part of it. "Away from you? Won't you want to keep in contact with me once I leave?"

"Minerva, of course I will," Albus frowned, "but I'm not sure how much contact I'll be able to maintain with anyone when I'm on the frontlines of the war."

"They're not just going to, I don't know, airlift you into Grindelwald's hiding spot or something?" She was suddenly horrified that he'd be fighting in the war. The prospect of him getting hurt -or worse- was too painful to consider.

"That's not how wars work, I'm afraid. If it helps at all, I'm not keen on fighting. But we all have a part to play for the greater good," Albus sighed. "I will obviously do my best to return home safely. I simply cannot promise that I can keep up with my correspondence while at war. Especially when I won't have you to help me answer it," he laughed half-heartedly.

"I don't think I want you to go to war, Albus," she shook her head. "I can't risk losing you and Callum. That's too much to bear."

"As egotistical -and perhaps crass- as it may sound, you might lose a lot more than an old professor and a brother if I don't try." He ran his finger over his teacup, looking at the tea as though it held his future in its leaves. "This is quite the departure from your stance last year. I believe it was about a year ago that you tried to convince me to enter the war."

"That was evidently juvenile of me!" Minerva snapped. "And if I remember correctly, I wanted you to give evidence to the Ministry, not rush to the frontlines like a bat out of hell!"

"Even so, you know now in your head that I need to go, despite not wanting me to. I appreciate your regard for my life and well-being, and it means the world to me that you care. Minerva, knowing what you do, you must realize that it has to be me that goes. It's the only way to end it." Albus looked like he might cry, and it made her feel sick.

"Will you even be able to end it, Albus? Are you capable of fighting him?" Minerva reached out and grabbed his hand impulsively. "It's okay if you don't think you can."

"I will do my very best to detain him without murder, if that's what you mean," Albus sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that hour. "It matters not whether I think I can do it simply because I know it has to be done." His eyes flickered to the clock above his door. "I think it would do you well to keep that philosophy in mind when it comes to the task tomorrow. You need to stop worrying about me and get some rest. It's my turn to worry about you."

"Is this your way of kicking me out?" Minerva asked, slipping her hand away from his and rising to her feet.

"It's a dignified way of informing you that I need to be alone at the moment," Albus admitted. "You've given me a lot to think about."

"Albus, I am sorry," she apologized. "I didn't mean to open any old wounds."

"You didn't," he reassured her. "No, you've simply reminded me that I have a lot to consider and that it's best to actually feel my feelings, as it were, as opposed to hiding letters in my students' essays. Now, go to bed. I can't have you falling apart tomorrow on my behalf."

She attempted a smile. "Will I see you tomorrow?"

"Probably just before, when the Ministry briefs you," he nodded towards the door. "Go to bed."

"I'm going, Albus," Minerva laughed merrily, shutting the door behind her. She allowed the laughter to keep her thoughts away from the war until she reached the Tower, very excited to lay her head on the pillow.

"Min!" Michael rushed towards her when she exited the portrait-way. "I was worried."

"There's no reason to be worried," Minerva chided. Ever since her name had been selected, he had been watching her every move, ensuring that she didn't hurt herself. If forced, she would have to admit it was all getting to be a bit tiresome. Even still, she sighed when his face fell. "I appreciate the worry, Michael, but I'm fine. I was prepping with Dumbledore, that's all."

"Do you feel ready for tomorrow, then?" He sat them both down on one of the couches. "I could get us some tea, or we could play a game, or-"

"Michael." Minerva put her finger to his lips. "I'm fine. I am as ready as I can be. I don't need to be babysat, alright?"

"Min, I wasn't trying to babysit you." His brow crinkled in hurt and confusion. "I only wanted to make sure that you were fine. I know how worried you are about this task, and I wanted to help."

"I know, but I'm independent, and I am accustomed to preparing myself without someone else trying to ready me for whatever task I have to accomplish next. I don't need to be coddled."

He stared at her. "Seriously? Okay, then. Have a good night." Michael pushed himself off the couch, and at the last second, Minerva snapped her arm out and pulled him back. He rubbed his forearm. "Ouch, good quidditch reflexes."

"I didn't mean to hurt you," she sighed, pinching her nose. "Are we fighting? We don't fight."

"I guess you could call this a fight," Michael said slowly. "I'd say it's more of a spat than anything else. The word 'fight' feels a bit dramatic for whatever this," he waved his hands madly between them, "is."

"I'm sorry," Minerva apologized, wondering inwardly why she had to apologize for wanting her space. "I don't mean to pick fights or spats or anything else. It's been a long night, and tomorrow doesn't look like it will be much better." She picked his arm up and wrapped it around herself.

"Dumbledore wore you out, huh?"

She thought back to their conversation. "In a manner of speaking, yes. He definitely gave me a lot to mull over."

Michael pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "As long as it helps you and it didn't make you more nervous, it's okay with me."

Minerva burrowed herself further into his arms, and for the first time, she heard herself lie to Michael. "It helped, don't worry." She yawned, "Can we just fall asleep here?"

"As much as I would love to wake up next to you tomorrow morning, I think you need your beauty sleep in an actual bed." Michael picked her up, gently placing her on the first step of the girls' staircase. "G'night, Min."

"Goodnight." Minerva spun on her heel and walked away, her mind still racing. No, it was unlikely that she'd be getting any sleep at all.

The next morning, a very tired Minerva was in the champions' tent by the Black Lake, pacing aimlessly. She could hear the excitement of the crowd as the students slowly filled their seats. Having already bid goodbye to her nervous group of friends, all that was left to do now was wait. Élodie was off in a corner, muttering in French. She had cast a Protego around her so that no one could approach her, not that anyone really wanted to. Vlad was exercising, doing push-ups to prepare. The only calm person in the tent was Riddle: lying on a bed with his eyes closed, he seemed utterly oblivious to his surroundings. Finally, there was a rustling at the tent's opening, and Minerva jumped to attention.

Dippet led an entourage of Albus, Dubois, and Torin into the tent. "How are you all feeling this glorious Wednesday morning? I hope you all had a good night's sleep because you'll need it for our first task. Gather around, everyone."

They all awkwardly shuffled into position without speaking. Riddle positioned himself in front of Dippet, knocking Torin out of the way. The European headmaster huffed in response and pulled Vlad beside him. Dubois placed a protective arm around Élodie's shoulders, holding her student tightly against her. Minerva sidestepped around the French duo, landing in front of Albus. He placed a firm but comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Now, there are Ministry officials who will be watching you throughout the task, so no funny business," Dippet began to explain the task at hand. "A bridge fifty feet high has been constructed over the Black Lake. It is your job to get yourselves up to the bridge. Once you're there, you will find an obstacle course. Now, there are two ways to finish this task. The first -and most obvious- is to tackle the obstacles and cross the bridge, sliding down the slide on the other end. If you do that, you will find a clue to the second task at the end of it—kind of like a leprechaun and their pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

"The second way to finish this task is decidedly less glamorous. It is entirely possible that you might fall off of the bridge and into the Black Lake while attempting to cross it. If this happens to you, you have two choices. One: attempt to get yourself back up and finish the task as intended. Two: swim through the Black Lake, while defying all of the dangerous creatures within it, and make it to the end. If you take this latter option, bear in mind you will receive a penalty for the second task. Additionally, we are not scoring this task using the traditional method. Instead, this is purely a timed task. If you finish with the fastest time, you will receive ten points; second place earns seven; third place, five; and fourth place earns you three points. Remember, you have only your wand. The order today will follow the order that your names came out of the Goblet of Fire: Mademoiselle LaFontaine, Mr. Karkaroff, Mr. Riddle, and finally, Miss McGonagall. Any questions?"

They all shook their heads. "On that note," Dippet said excitedly, "we have about five minutes before we begin. Take some time to speak with your professors, and then we'll start." He pulled Riddle aside, whispering as he did so.

"Any last-minute advice?" Minerva asked Albus as she followed him to her designated area.

"Keep calm, and remember, you're an exceptionally accomplished flier," he spoke very quietly. "See if you can summon that energy within you, do you understand?"

Minerva looked at him with a gleam in her eye, comprehension dawning. "I understand you perfectly, Professor. I'll be sure to heed your advice."

Albus pulled his lips into a tight smile. "Good. Watch your balance, too. I wouldn't be surprised if there's nothing for you to hold on to."

"I rather thought not...isn't that how we'll fall off?" Minerva frowned. "Or does the actual bridge itself just dissolve underneath us?"

"I'd be prepared for either," Albus answered grimly. "I honestly have no idea how this works."

"Did you see Callum out there?" For the first time, Albus could see a trace of nerves in her.

"He's on grounds duty for this task," Albus said gently, "but he said he has task duty for the second. He'll be able to watch then."

"Is this because the other schools still think he helped me cheat?" Minerva asked quietly.

Albus sat down on her bed, grabbing hold of her hands and pulling her down beside him. "Minerva, the investigation proved that neither of you did anything wrong. The Goblet simply picked both you and Mr. Riddle, for reasons unbeknownst to any of us. I will admit, Torin and Dubois are still angry, and so yes, it was agreed that Callum would stay away for the first task, but it wasn't because they thought you would cheat. Callum offered it as a...flower leaf, the muggles call it?"

She laughed, "An olive branch. He offered them an olive branch."

"Exactly," Albus chuckled. "He'll still see you after the task, although I know that's not the same as having him watch you now."

Their conversation was interrupted by Dippet. "Professors, please follow me. It's time for the task to begin! Mademoiselle LaFontaine, a Ministry representative will be in to collect you shortly."

Albus attempted to stand, but Minerva gripped his hands like a vice, her eyes wild. The enormity of what she was about to face hit her suddenly, much like everything else lately. "Please, don't go. I'm...I'm scared."

"You've never been scared in your life, my dear. You're nervous, that's all. You can do this. You must." He squeezed her hands as comfortingly as he could, given his own apprehension, and stood. "Be brave for me. Be brave for your brother. Most importantly, be brave for yourself."

Minerva watched him walk off. She caught Riddle smirking at her. There was no doubt in her mind that he was drawing his own conclusions about her relationship with Albus, and she wasn't in the mood for it. "Oh, fuck off, Riddle. You need to get this salacious notion out of your head."

"I don't have the slightest clue what you're talking about, McGonagall," Riddle said smoothly, lying back on his bed. "I don't care who you hold hands with."

She opened her mouth to reply but thought better of it. Unfortunately, she didn't have much of a defence. They had been holding hands, in a manner of speaking, even if it wasn't what Riddle thought it was. Waiting as the others took their turns, Minerva had a lot of time to think, and it occurred to her that Albus had called her "my dear". That was an interesting deviation from the norm, she mused.

She did her best to clear her mind and before she knew it, a short Ministry official beckoned in her direction. "You're up, Miss McGonagall. Madam Prewett will be available after the task to take care of any injuries you may have." He spoke as they walked down the pathway. "The second you step on that block there," he pointed, "your time starts. Best of luck."

"Not much ceremony for this part, now is there?" Minerva muttered as she made her way to the podium. Taking a deep breath, she stepped atop of it, one foot before the other. A giant timer appeared in the sky, a not-so-subtle reminder that the task had started. Looking up, she saw the massive bridge. Any view of the crowd she may have had was eclipsed by the timer, the bridge, and giant flags set up to line the arena.

Remembering Albus' instructions, Minerva pointed her wand and spoke clearly into the wind, "Accio Nimbus 1250!" She waited patiently until her trusty broomstick appeared, and she hopped on it, flying up to the bridge. Cheers went up in the crowd as she flew, and she allowed herself to smile. Arriving at the top of the bridge, she charmed her broom so that it would fly under the bridge as she walked. If she fell, she would only fall so far as her broom.

"Here we go," Minerva steeled herself, walking slowly. There wasn't a bannister to keep her steady, so she had to rely on her well-trained Quidditch skills to stay balanced. She smiled as she caught the Devil's Snare creeping its way around the bridge and into her path. Quickly setting the plant ablaze, it fell to the ground, and she was able to continue on her way. The next few obstacles were as easy as the first, and she made quick work of the flying grindylows, and then the charmed keys that were threatening to peck her eyes out. It wasn't until the boggart that she stumbled.

"Fucking hell," Minerva swore as she saw the boggart. She recognized its magical form right away, and she could see it crawl out of a badly-cloaked wardrobe. While she had expected to see Riddle, her boggart had a new, unexpected form, and it was much, much worse.

Instead of Riddle, she saw Albus, blood gushing out of his eyes and through his spectacles. His hands were turning black, becoming wrinkly and leathered as a curse spread up his arms. When he spoke, his voice was a mere croak.

"Is this what you wanted, Minerva? For me to go and fight? For me to turn to nothing?" The boggart turned towards her, and she let out a strangled scream. His pupils were visible now, as brilliantly blue as ever, despite the deepening red flowing beyond their depths and coating his face. "I never thought you'd want me to die, my dear."

In her head, Minerva knew that what was happening wasn't real. She knew she was too sensible to fall into this trap, especially for a second time. The counter-spell was on the tip of her tongue. And yet, when he started screaming in pain, his painful yells echoed through her ears and brought tears to her eyes. She took a step back to separate herself from the boggart, but miscalculated.

Her foot caught air, and she felt herself tumble over the edge of the bridge. It was only a split second before her hands grasped her broom, and she inwardly thanked Albus for his innovative thinking. The crowd gasped loudly around her, and Minerva shook her head, clearing it out.

She had a task to finish.

Hoisting herself onto her broom, she flew back up to the bridge, hopping onto the platform. Bracing herself, she yelled, "Riddikulus!" watching the boggart turn into a dancing Albus. Wryly, Minerva thought that if there were any spell she needed to practice over and over again, it would probably be the boggart-conquering spell that she clearly should have mastered in her third-year. To her amazement, the rest of the obstacles were no match for her. The demonic mooncalves were simple; she used a summoning charm to fetch food for them from Professor Grubbyplank's warehouse. Minerva bypassed the screeching banshees by casting a muffling charm over them, and when it came time for the spells being thrown at her by an invisible spell-caster, she took pride in her duelling skills. Her opponent was quickly obliterated into smithereens, no match for the woman who could break Albus Dumbledore's forearm. Finally, she found the slide at the end of the bridge.

Sliding down, Minerva flew off at the end, effortlessly catching the green vial midair. Much like her animagus form, she landed on her feet to thunderous applause. There was barely time to catch her breath before she was bombarded by Madam Prewett.

"You look fine to me, girl," Madam Prewett said, smiling, checking her over. "Thank Merlin. I was worried. You should see the lot that went before you."

"Did I do alright, then?" Minerva panted, accepting the Pepper-Up potion that the Medi-Witch handed her.

"You did better than alright, Miss McGonagall," the elder witch snorted. "You did spectacularly. Only one to avoid falling in the lake, I'll have you know. Mr. Riddle and Mademoiselle LaFontaine got back up, but it took them ages. You finished twelve minutes ahead of Mr. Riddle, and he was the best before you. Congratulations on the win." To Minerva's surprise, Madam Prewett winked at her before walking away.

Aidan, Charlotte, Augusta and Harriet jumped on her next, each screaming into her ear.

"That was bloody brilliant!" Aidan exclaimed, hopping up and down. "That was fantastic, Min! You should have seen the others, what a bloody useless lot they were!"

Minerva listened half-heartedly, but her eyes were on the professors' platform. There, she found Albus, and her gaze locked with his. He smiled, and she felt an outpouring of relief when his eyes were their regular blue, no blood in sight. Minerva grinned, stepping forward to see him. She definitely needed to thank him for the nudge towards using her broom.

She was pulled back by a beaming Michael. "Have I ever told you how amazingly attractive it is when you win something?" He wrapped his arms around her, lifted her up, and kissed her thoroughly as he twirled her around.

"Michael, we're in public!" Minerva hissed as he set her down, much to the chagrin of the cheering crowd.

"I couldn't help it, Min," Michael shrugged, still grinning. "You were phenomenal."

Minerva turned helplessly back to the platform, hoping once more to talk to Albus, but he was gone.