A/N: Thank you for all of your messages. I hope this one lives up to your expectations.

For the disclaimer, please the prologue.

Chapter Twenty-Four: June 1944, Pt. I

"Dawlish, Goyle, wands away! Ten points from Slytherin. Honestly, you both know better than to start a fight during the exam period! Go back to your common room immediately," Minerva told the young girls sternly, sighing inwardly at the situation. She was on her way to visit Albus for a night of relaxation before the final task, and after her exams, she was in desperate need of a night off.

"Honestly, miss, we didn't mean any trouble!" Goyle's bottom lip quivered slightly. "A girl is crying back there behind the tapestry! We thought she might need help, or that there might be something scary back there."

Minerva sighed and looked in the direction of Goyle's outstretched finger. Sure enough, there was a small sniffling sound. "Fine. Off to bed, both of you. I'll give you your points back after I'm sure you've made it back without interruptions, is that understood? I will check with Professor Slughorn."

They nodded and ran off, muttering between them. Pinching her nose wearily, Minerva walked over to the tapestry and pulled it aside to reveal a tear-stained Charlotte. Only habit allowed her to quickly mask her shock with tenderness. "May I sit?"

"Yeah, of course, Min," Charlotte sniffled. She tried to smile but failed miserably. "I didn't mean to interrupt your evening. Were you off to see Dumbledore before the task tomorrow?"

"Yes," Minerva replied, settling in on the stone floor. "He thought it might be wise to have a debriefing after the NEWTs and before this tournament finally comes to an end. I suppose it's his way of trying to ensure I've calmed down and won't be riding a wave of adrenaline into the task tomorrow."

"I wish I could calm down," Charlotte confessed. "I feel like I've been crying non-stop lately. Professor Johnson was not particularly happy with me last Thursday. Remember how I cried so much that I rendered everyone's Cheering Charms ineffective? She gave me detention for a week."

Minerva winced, remembering how miserable she had felt after that class. "You've had a hard time of it lately, Char."

"I've had a hard time? Min, have you looked in the mirror lately? You're the one attempting the most NEWTs anyone's seen since Dumbledore, all while being Head Girl and competing in a deadly tournament," Charlotte snorted. "I feel so inadequate when I look at you."

"Now, now," Minerva soothed. "I didn't make it out of this year completely unscathed. My relationship burst into flames too, you know."

"Not like this," Charlotte whispered. "You somehow managed to end things gracefully, like you do everything. I wish I could be more like you."

"Don't be ridiculous, Charlotte."

"Maybe if I were more like you, Aidan wouldn't want to break up with me."

Charlotte's words hung in the air between them, the air thick and heavy with tension. For once, Minerva was utterly taken aback. "Char, I'll tell you now what I told you once before: Aidan and I have nothing between us."

"No, maybe not," Charlotte argued, "but we both know that Aidan and I keep fighting partly because I'm not like you." The girls' minds travelled back to a May weekend over which Aidan had angrily spat out that he wished Charlotte was as level-headed as Minerva. Charlotte hadn't spoken to either of them for a week.

"He's also not dating me," Minerva said, as rationally as she could. "So, he can easily make comparisons. If we were dating, I probably wouldn't want him to go off to war, either. As it stands, I don't really want him to go."

"Then why did you tell him you would let him go?" Charlotte asked softly.

Minerva's throat went dry. She hadn't known that her friend was aware of that particular conversation. "I told him I wouldn't stand in his way. That doesn't mean I wouldn't put up a fight. And honestly," she waved her hand, "hypotheticals are often ridiculous, because who knows how we'd react if we were in different roles? Besides, I also recall telling him that my answer shouldn't count for much precisely because I am not you."

Charlotte stared at her, searching her eyes for something. Minerva was almost at the point of discomfort when Charlotte finally spoke. "I respect your honesty, Min. And, for what it's worth, I appreciate that you made room for me in your friendship. I hope you think it's worth it, even when we end things."

"Char, don't resign yourself to the end just yet." Even while speaking the words, Minerva knew how foreign the false hope sounded rolling off her tongue.

"Minerva, it's ending. I think he's waiting until after the task tomorrow -probably so you're not worried about us, to be honest- but we won't be a couple at graduation. It's awful of me to say," Charlotte smiled tearfully, "but I think it's been a long time coming. And I think we'll be happier, even if it takes a while."

"As long as you're not caught crying behind a tapestry, I'm sure it will be an improvement," Minerva commented drolly, and they both laughed.

"Min, can you promise me something?" A flash of seriousness lit Charlotte's eyes. "Promise me that even after Aidan and I are done, we'll still be friends. I know that you and Aidan were friends first, but I can't lose you, Min. I've gotten used to you."

Minerva beamed despite the situation. "Char, we'll be friends far beyond a breakup. Besides, who else will help me plan Lucy's baby shower? We both know I'm horrible at that sort of thing."

It was her friend's turn to smile. "I'll be there in a heartbeat, Min, you know that. It'll be nice to have an excuse to come back here to Scotland."

"I keep forgetting that you'll be heading back to Wales."

"Well, when the best masters of astronomy are at home, you go home," Charlotte shrugged. "I'll only be an owl away."

"I know," Minerva said softly, already missing the safety of their dormitory. She felt a bubble of sadness wash over her but forced it down. "Now, if you're okay, I really should be off to see Dumbledore before he sends out a search party."

Charlotte threw her head back and laughed. "Merlin, can you imagine? But yes, I'll be fine. I'll head back to the tower and go to bed. Sleep will probably do me some good." She wrapped her arms around Minerva in a sideways hug before lifting them both off of the floor. "I should see you tomorrow in our room before the task, but if we miss each other, be safe. I can't wait to celebrate with you when it's all over."

"You and me both, Char," Minerva shook her head ruefully, "you and me both." She squeezed her friend's hand and watched her walk back towards Gryffindor Tower with a spring in her step. Biting back a laugh, Minerva made her way to Albus' office, where she happily discovered a hot pot of tea and an enthusiastic chess set.

"Ah, Minerva!" Albus said joyously once she had shut his office door behind her. "Come sit. I figured a good game of chess would help take your mind off things."

"Or give you an excuse to win something," Minerva said dryly, accepting a cup of tea as she sat down. She sighed as she cracked her neck to release the tension from the past week. "Merlin, it's been a long week."

"If it's any compensation, the Ministry examiners have all told me just how impressed they are with your abilities, my dear. I believe you should have your results back the day after tomorrow."

"Ah. So if I survive tomorrow, I have that to look forward to," Minerva paused, sending one of her pawns in motion on the board. "Whoever decided to schedule this task directly after exams has a cruel sense of humour."

"Minerva, please don't joke about surviving tomorrow," Albus reprimanded her softly. She inwardly groaned at her misstep. Ever since the last task, he had been more fearful of harm coming to her than she had thought possible. His training schedule was so intense that she almost missed Aidan's lackadaisical methods.

"Albus, I'll be fine this time. I promise. Dubois is literally banished from the island, and if I may say so, I'm sure I can handle Élodie by myself." Minerva's eyes narrowed as she watched Albus take one of her rooks. "Resorted to emotional manipulation, have you? Are you really that desperate to win?"

"That was a coincidence, my dear, that's all," Albus replied airily. "Do you have the bag of keys ready?"

"Do you really think I'd forget the clue that was left at the end of the last task? I may have endured a few hits to the head, but my memory is fine. I only wish that we knew what their purpose was."

"Presumably, you'll need to unlock something. Six somethings, as a matter of fact."

She lightly swatted his arm. "You think you're clever, don't you? And to think you don't like it when I joke about the tournament."

"I don't like it when you joke about your safety. The fact that we have absolutely no clue what tomorrow will bring, well, that's actually quite funny," Albus retorted. He frowned at the board. "You have me in quite the predicament, it seems."

"Do I?" Minerva laughed as her remaining rook smashed his bishop in half. "You must not be paying enough attention tonight, Albus."

"It would appear not. Perhaps I am merely distracted by tomorrow's events."

She looked him over carefully. "I know you're worried, but worry won't solve anything. We've practiced for months. We've trained harder than even I wanted to. Whatever comes, I'll be fine. Que sera sera."

He raised an eyebrow. "I've never known you to be so blasé about something. I thought you didn't believe in fate."

"I don't. However, I do believe in grim acceptance. Oh," Minerva added slyly, "and I just took your queen."

"So you did." Albus peered at the board. "I don't think I see a way out of this." He cautiously repositioned his king.

"Oh, don't give up, Albus," Minerva teased, edging one of her pieces forward. "I'm looking forward to sweet, sweet victory. Don't cheapen it because you gave up."

"I'm not giving up. I'm merely admitting that my options are...limited," Albus grumbled. He moved his king at last, groaning in defeat.

"If you've taught me correctly, I believe that's checkmate, Albus." Minerva smiled wickedly at him as they watched her queen shove his king off of the board. "I won."

"So you did. I haven't lost a game of chess in over fifteen years."

"I seem to recall informing you that you would rue the day you taught me how to play chess."

They stared at each other over the board, her dancing eyes casting light on his awestruck gaze. Silence stood between them, neither one moving. Abruptly, Albus rose and strode over to her side of the board. He took her face in his hands and lifted her up to meet him. Their lips crashed together in a wave of desire. Finally, Minerva thought as he picked her up and placed her on his desk. Minerva had expected the usual butterflies when they touched, but she was unprepared for the explosion of anticipation that flowed through her body. His tongue wrapped around hers, and she moaned into his mouth. She took her hands in his, utterly content. To Minerva's delight, the desk was much more comfortable than an old broom cupboard, and Albus was a significantly more experienced kisser than either Michael or Riddle.

"Who knew winning," Minerva murmured as he kissed her neck, "could be such an aphrodisiac?"

"Winning, I knew," Albus replied softly, pausing his ministrations. "Losing, however, is a newfound discovery."

"You're not one for losing, are you?"

"I have never before considered it to be such a stimulating sensation, no." He leant his forehead against hers. "I fear that we've indulged our feelings enough for tonight, unfortunately."

"Albus," Minerva gasped, slightly breathless. "We've been kissing for less than two minutes."

"While your ability to keep track of time amidst our activities is impressive, it's not the length of time that gives me pause; rather, the fact that you have not yet graduated."

"Your sense of propriety really kills the mood, did you know that?"

Albus laughed. "I believe that it has saved me from many an awkward situation."

"I don't think this is awkward," Minerva said lowly, wrapping her legs around him. "Do you?"

"Not awkward," his breath hitched, "but untimely. You have a task tomorrow, in case you've forgotten."

She sighed and untangled her body from his. "No, I haven't. Is this where you send me off to bed?"

"It would be easier if you would simply agree that you need your rest, but if you need to be sent to Gryffindor Tower, I can easily dismiss you." His teasing tone betrayed his harsh words as he helped her down from his desk. "Go, and I will see you in the morning."

"Can we continue this," she cheekily waved her hands between them, "in the morning?"

"You know we can't," Albus chuckled. "Give it three days."

"So close and yet so far," Minerva muttered. She collected her bag and placed a quick peck on Albus' cheek. Walking to the door, she called behind her, "Thank you for the game, Albus. I look forward to beating you many more times in future."

He groaned as she shut the door behind her.

Minerva's hands were clasped together tightly in her lap. Given the second task's climactic ending, the Ministry had decided it would be best if all of the champions had their own tent in preparation for the event. Instead of a private briefing of the task, the champions would discover their final challenge at the same time as the spectators. Shuddering at the memory of her last task, she reached up to touch her new, square-shaped spectacles. She had begrudgingly charmed her glasses to stay on her face no matter what came her way, as Madam Prewett had suggested to her.

"How are you doing?" Albus' voice broke through her thoughts as he entered her tent. "Not long now, I'm afraid."

"Don't be afraid," Minerva replied smoothly. "One way or another, it will be over soon."

He joined her at her little sitting table. "I thought you might have family in here with you. Mademoiselle LaFontaine and Mr. Karkaroff each have large contingents of family members. I didn't want to interrupt your time with your family."

"As you can see," Minerva snorted grimly, "no family here. Callum is here, but he's technically on duty, so he can't visit. Diana is apparently busy at work, whatever that means, and Ma, well..." she hesitated. "Da didn't want her to come to visit. He isn't particularly fond of magic."

Albus could sense there was more to that story, but he didn't want to make her more nervous than she already was. "Well, I know I'm a poor consolation prize, but I am one of your staunchest supporters."

"You're not a consolation prize, Albus," Minerva smiled at him. "Not to me."

He returned her smile and squeezed her hand gently. "Now, I already know you're going to ask for advice, so I've given it some forethought. Don't believe anything you don't trust right away, and get out safely this time around, winner or not."

"Even if winning is an aphrodisiac?" she inquired, somewhat brazenly.

"I believe I told you yesterday that losing can have the same effect," Albus responded smartly. "Remember, you're only five points behind Mr. Riddle. He's the only one who gets to start before you. The other two are so far behind you that realistically, they pose no threat."

"Five years ago, you warned me to stay away from Riddle," Minerva chuckled. "It's ironic that now, at the end of my final year, it all comes down to one final battle between the two of us."

"The mark on your arm isn't bothering you?"

"It hasn't since the Hagrid incident last year."

"Good." He checked his pocket-watch and sighed. "We best head outside, Minerva."

She nodded her acquiescence and followed him outside the tent to where the other three champions were gathered. Dippet was positioned slightly off-centre, speaking into a large microphone.

"Here are our four champions!" Dippet cried, and his words were met with enthusiastic cheers from the stands. "Their goal today is simple: make their way to the centre of the maze, where the Triwizard Cup was placed earlier this morning. The first champion to take hold of the Cup wins the Triwizard Tournament, the galleons, and the lifelong recognition that comes with it!

"As he is in first place, Mr. Riddle of Hogwarts," Dippet paused to allow the crowd's screams of support, "will enter the maze first. He will be followed closely by Miss McGonagall, also of Hogwarts. Mademoiselle LaFontaine of Beauxbatons will enter next, and then Durmstrang's Mr. Karkaroff will close it out. Now, a message to our champions: we wish you the very best of luck. You've all performed admirably up until this point, and I have no doubt that we will crown a very deserving victor. And now," he slowed down for dramatic effect, "Mr. Riddle, it's your time to enter the maze."

Minerva watched as Riddle walked through a hole in the greenery. Steeling herself, she closed her eyes and channelled the nerves into adrenaline. Her father had always told her that "the absence of nerves meant an absence of care," and she wanted to use that energy for something good. Chancing a look back at Albus, he winked at her, despite the nervous smile plastered on his face.

"It is now Miss McGonagall's turn! Best of luck!" Dippet called grandly into the microphone.

"Here we go," Minerva muttered, approaching the shrubs. The plant split itself in half, and she walked through the opening. She shuddered slightly when it closed behind her, resigning her to her fate. Withdrawing her wand from its holster, she called, "Dirigious Maximus!"

Thinking of the centre of the maze, she guided the spell to illuminate her way to the Cup. Albus had recommended this incantation as a means of not only helping her to win, but to escape the maze quickly. Tiny bulbs of light appeared before her, and Minerva followed them carefully while keeping an eye out for a threatening obstacle. She found one sooner than she would have liked: turning a corner, she bit back a scream as an elderly, weathered witch stood before her.

"Hello, dearie." The voice was haunting and high-pitched, setting Minerva's teeth on edge. "You have a choice in front of you, child."

"And what choice would that be?" She asked the question politely, but her wand arm wavered imperceptibly.

"You have two options. Each has its own advantages and disadvantages. Neither is inherently good nor inherently bad, much like you or I," the witch added. She held up her fingers, which were constructed from gnarled branches. "Your first option is this: you may pass me freely without harm and without a fight. I will bid you adieu and wish you well on your travels."

"What do you ask for in return?"

The witch smiled wickedly, apparently pleased that Minerva had some sense. "Nothing much, dearie, it's a mere bargain. You would pass by unharmed, you see, so someone else...wouldn't. It's a trade, and a fair one at that. You can go freely, and I would still get my payment."

"Your toll is bodily injury?" Minerva was both aghast at the suggestion and horrified that the Ministry would leave an innocent's well-being in the hands of frightened teenagers.

"Every so often, it's bodily injury, yes. Occasionally, the price is death. Either way, an innocent person in the crowds will be struck with a potent curse."

"The second option?" Minerva's face paled.

"If you don't wish to pass easily, you can choose to duel me. If you win, I shall humbly step aside and allow your passage." A wand unfurled out of the witch's hand, a sixth piece of wood coming forth and resting between her wooden fingers. "I should warn you, though. It will not be a battle easily won."

"I can't allow you to harm someone else because I didn't want to duel you. That's cowardly," Minerva said slowly, settling into a duelling stance. No sooner had she said the words than she was propelled backwards into the green walls, landing on the ground with a sickening thud.

"Oooooooooof," Minerva groaned, turning herself on to her hands and knees. "What kind of duellist is so unmannered that they would just attack someone-"

Her words were cut short as the witch blasted her with a tickling charm. The witch came closer until she could kneel over Minerva. She patted the younger women's head, her wooden fingers tapping unpleasantly on Minerva's forehead. "Did you really think that I would play fair? This is, quite literally, a do-or-die tournament. What did you expect?"

"I...I didn't..." Minerva gasped for air, clutching at the ground to steady herself.

The witch suddenly ceased the tickling charm. "Done yet, dearie? I didn't think a Gryffindor would give up this easily, but..." She waved her arm in an intricate pattern, clearly intent on ending the battle.

Not ready to die just yet, Minerva summoned her remaining energy and rolled to the side, narrowly missing a streak of green light. She looked to the left and saw a smoking imprint in the space where, only seconds ago, she had been lying in the dirt. Realizing she needed to make a move and quickly, Minerva somersaulted three times forwards to distance herself from the witch. While she was turning, she disillusioned herself.

The witch turned, looking for her. "Where are you, my pretty? We haven't finished our lovely conversation."

Minerva shouted, "Petrificus totalus!" She smirked as the witch froze, and then Minerva cast a final Bombarda on her target, blasting her opponent into tiny fragments.

"I didn't think that would work, to be honest," Minerva murmured, happy to have rid herself of the witch. Recasting her direction spell, she followed the path to a metal gate.

"Well, well, well, what have we here?" she asked herself quietly. Inspecting the gate, she found a lock. Minerva extracted the sack of keys from the second task. The first three keys were non-starters, but the fourth one clicked in its lock softly. She magically drew an x on the lucky key so that she wouldn't waste time on it again and pushed through the gate. As she shut it behind her, a piece of parchment fell into her hands, the letter t imprinted upon it. Not knowing what else to do with it, Minerva stuffed it into a pocket in her robes and started upon the newly opened path.

At each crossroad, Minerva grew more and more thankful for Albus and his direction spell. She could hear screams and shouts throughout the maze, and each noise propelled her to move quickly. The second obstacle she encountered was nothing more than a fleet of Cornish pixies. Effortlessly immobilizing them, Minerva found herself at another gate. After she crossed through, she received another parchment, this time with the letter e.

She continued along her path until she came across Vlad, shrieking and writhing around on the ground in agony. "Vlad! Vlad, are you okay? Can you hear me?"

"Help me, please! Please, Minerva, get help!" he wailed, scratching at his head. "He's in my brain; make it stop! PLEASE, MAKE IT STOP!"

"Who is in your head? Vlad, can you talk to me? What spell were you struck with?"

"I don't know," he ground out, "but Merlin, GET OUT OF MY HEAD! GET ME OUT OF HERE!"

"Do you not want to finish the task?" Minerva asked, uncertain.

"I need him out of my head," Vlad whimpered. "Send up the sparks."

"Alright." Minerva brushed her hand over his head, hoping to be somewhat comforting. She extended her arm above her and shot red sparks into the air. "Someone will be along to help you shortly. You'll be okay. Would you like me to wait with you?"

Despite his pain, Vlad snorted. "You shouldn't have to spend any extra time in here. Go."

"Be well, Vlad," she uttered softly. Stepping around him, Minerva wove her way around various corners and under archways. If only the task simply required navigation, she thought, sighing. She allowed her mind to wander slightly as she walked, looking for the next gate to appear before her.

"Hello, Miss McGonagall." A familiar voice appeared out of the rising mists before her. "Or, should I say, my dear?"

She should have known there would be another obstacle. Steeling herself, Minerva turned to see Albus standing there, looking very much like his benevolent self. As much as he could, anyway, while as transparent as a ghost. "You? Again?"

"Really, my dear, I must say I expected a more...enthusiastic greeting." Albus conjured a chintzy chair and sat on it, his eyes bemused.

"How would they know?" she murmured to herself. While she was aware that Dippet knew something of the situation between Albus and herself, Minerva hadn't thought he would divulge that information to a Ministry committee.

"Excuse my old ears, but I didn't catch that," Albus beamed at her. "Would you care to join me?"

Minerva stared at him as another chair appeared beside him. "No, I don't care to join you. I would like to pass by you so I can escape this maze and see the real you."

"How do you know I'm not real?"

"I suppose I don't," she huffed, not in the mood to indulge another fake Albus. "Tell me: what is my task here?"

"It's simple, my dear. Kill me," Albus gazed at her, unblinking. "All you have to do is wave your wand and kill me. You know the incantation. You know the wand movements. If you truly want to win, all you have to do is go through with it."

"I've never uttered that curse in my life," Minerva breathed. During their practices, Albus had made sure Minerva could resist the Imperious and Cruciatus curses, but they had not once spoken about the killing curse. Perhaps he had thought it too grisly to raise as a potential necessity, or maybe he simply assumed that, if she found herself on the wrong end of that curse, she would be beyond any help he could offer.

"It is a ghastly curse, and a rather permanent one at that," Albus admitted. "You don't have much of a choice, unfortunately. If you can't find it within yourself to murder me, we can sit here and indulge ourselves in good company. This option would suit me just fine. However, if you want to win - and I believe that you do - you'll need to progress as quickly as you can. Time is of the essence."

"I swear to Merlin," Minerva warned, "you better be another fake Albus. If I make it out of this hellhole to hear that I murdered Albus Dumbledore, I'll kill your ghost, too."

"Do you truly believe I'm not real?"

Minerva thought back to Albus' parting advice, considering them for a moment. "I think you're an excellent figment of someone else's imagination, intended to delay me. But I don't trust you, and I can always trust the real you."

"Minerva, I'm offended-"

She didn't let him finish. Raising her arm, Minerva cast a spell that she hoped she'd never have to hear again: "Avada kedavra!"

The fake Albus - she refused to let herself believe that it may have been the real him - collapsed to the ground with a streak of green. Walking by him, Minerva swallowed down the bile that threatened to spill from her mouth. Seven months had passed since she had first seen her new boggart, and a similar sight caused by her own hand was almost too much for her to bear. She reached the gate and unlocked it handily. The letter e fell into her expectant palm.

"Another e? Really?" Minerva shook her head, continuing on her way. Knowing that she had three letters in her possession and only three remaining keys, it dawned on her that the task was halfway over. She directed herself again and headed to the right. Minerva made it only a few steps before she heard a whirring sound behind her.

"So soon?" she asked another rhetorical question, turning around and shaking her head. Her eyes bugged as she caught sight of the maze's walls closing in on themselves. It was picking up speed as it approached her, clearly intent on crushing her between them.

Following her direction spell, Minerva ran, skidding around corners as she went. She was panting as she crashed into a gate. Hurriedly, she searched her bag for the right key, thankful that she only had three to try. The last key slid into the lock and clicked into place; she slipped through the gate and slammed it behind her at the exact moment the wall collided with it on the other side.

"Christ almighty," Minerva murmured, gasping for air. She caught the letter b as it glided into her palm. It suddenly occurred to her that the task might not end even if someone else won. She might be required to see this tournament to its bitter end, regardless. Swallowing at the thought, she thought of how close she was to the finish line. "Two more. Only two more."

Minerva strode purposefully through the maze. All she desired was the tournament's termination. Even if that resulted in a win for Élodie - and therefore a win for Dubois - Minerva would be thankful to put the horrors of this year firmly in her past. Continuing along, she abruptly tripped over an object protruding from the wall's base.

She looked down at the ground and yelped when she caught sight of the culprit. It was a leg that, as it moved, revealed a baby Acromantula crawling out from the depths of the maze. Once it had fully unveiled itself, the spider didn't move, merely staring at Minerva. Then, it duplicated, and soon the entire path from which she had travelled had filled with the furry creatures.

"I fucking hate spiders," Minerva cursed, attempting to stun the one nearest her. She immediately smarted when the spider repelled her curse and began to advance towards her. Suddenly not concerned with her usual level of propriety, Minerva shrieked. She ran in the opposite direction and, having learned from the last obstacle, removed the last two keys from inside her cloak. It was with a sense of relief that she hit the gate, familiar, iron, and stable.

This time, the first key proved lucky, and she walked through the gate. A spider's leg poked through it, stroking at her cloak. She screamed, wondering briefly if they had obtained the spiders from the boy Hagrid. Shivering, Minerva realized the gate through which she had passed was situated nearer the heart of the maze; it was colder and darker. Gripping the falling parchment tightly, this one with an s imprinted upon it, she began to jog. A hot cup of tea in Albus' office suddenly seemed to be the most idyllic place in the world.

When she recognized the task before the sixth and final gate, Minerva almost laughed at the ease of it. Standing before her was a medley of creatures from the first task. Thankfully, her boggart was not among them. With a refined slash of her wand, she handily immobilized them and strolled on to the gate. She slipped the key into the lock and grinned when a parchment with the letter d fell into her palm. Much to her relief, she could see the glow of the Cup in front of her.

Minerva sprinted in its direction, thrilled at the chance to not only end this tournament, but to win it in the process. She could feel its magic pulsing as she approached it, and her heart started to pound with the thrill of it all. The end of this tournament was no longer a wish but a reality, and she so wanted to be the victor. After all, Minerva was a Gryffindor, and she savoured the taste of glory.

Abruptly, she tasted the tang of iron as she crashed into yet another locked gate, impeding her path. This particular gate was shimmering with a disillusionment spell; the Cup was no longer visible to her. "I don't have any keys left! What the hell is this?"

A timer and card floated down in front of her. The front of the card read: "Open me to discover your final trial. Nota bene: the timer will start immediately."

Inhaling deeply, Minerva opened the card. As the timer beside her began to tick, her eyes devoured the text before her.

"Solve the riddle below before the timer is done, and the Cup you will have won.

Riddle:

Letters you collected along the way

now hold the key to your rewarding pay.

Use them to spell out a certain word,

one that means the others you have spurred.

Your hint thus begins:

What happens when you win?

Not a loser, not the worst

What have you done to call yourself the first?

You guess the right word, and the cup is yours,

Choose wrongly and you shall not make it through the door."

"What does that mean?" Minerva groaned. She retrieved the parchments from within her coat and charmed them to float in the air above them. Using her wand to switch their order around, she attempted to unscramble them to no avail. The timer's incessant ticking quickly became a nuisance, and Minerva sighed deeply when a response failed to come to mind.

"Okay, McGonagall, think," she murmured. "We have two es, and then one each of t, s, d, and b. Obviously, the word will be a synonym for 'won'. That could be triumph, victory, or even conquest. Success? No, I only have one s. 'What have I done to the others?' Well, I would do better than them- I would beat them! Yes, beat! Oh crikey, I don't have an a." Minerva took a moment to inhale, allowing her mind to cogitate quickly. Her eyes widened as it came to her. "Best! I would be the best! That's certainly not the worst. And if I have e and d left over, then I must have bested them! That must be it!"

She speedily rearranged the letters to form the word and magically placed them into their places on the padlock. The padlock glowed for a moment before falling to the ground, and the timer and scroll disappeared along with it. Minerva pushed open the gate to see the Cup once more. Running, she reached the small garden of which the Cup was the centre. To her horror, Riddle was there, sprinting towards her from the opposite direction. She ran harder, faster, wishing her broom were there to aid her in her quest.

In the end, it didn't matter as they both crashed into yet another invisible wall.

"Fancy seeing you here, McGonagall," Riddle spat at her, leaping up from the ground.

"Well, well, well. It appears that I solved a riddle to meet a Riddle," Minerva commented dryly, wiping herself free of the mud.

He glared at her. "Do you know how we get to the Cup?"

"No, and if I did, I most certainly wouldn't be telling you."

As if it knew they were there, and it most likely did, considering it was magical, the Cup spoke to them. "When two arrive, it signifies equals among the champions. Only the very best will be allowed through my protection."

Minerva's eyes flicked over Riddle obdurately. "Any idea how we determine that, Riddle?"

"Why, McGonagall," he drawled, flexing his wand arm, "we duel."

The wind picked up around them in anticipation of their magic. She ground her feet into the earth, twisting them until she was in a comfortable duelling stance. Riddle surprised her by beginning to walk slowly in a circle. She didn't want to be surrounded by his watchful eye, so Minerva walked too, in the opposite direction. They were the perfect pair, creating a perfectly distanced circle.

"I don't believe that walking constitutes a duel, Riddle," Minerva replied, flicking a Stupefy in his direction.

He deflected it easily. "We're just warming up. It's been a while since we talked."

"And this is the moment you choose? Isn't that a bit odd?"

"I highly doubt we'll have the chance to talk again after this," Riddle spoke conversationally. "After all, you'll be graduating, and I don't think you'll make the time for me after you leave."

"If you have something to get off your chest, Riddle, please do it quickly. I'm not in the mood to suffer fools gladly."

His eyes flashed angrily. "I'm not a fool, McGonagall. You've always thought you had my number, haven't you? That was - and forever will be - your biggest mistake."

"You've shown who you were, from the very beginning!" Minerva shouted. She was fatigued and didn't have the energy to entertain his provocations. "Except for one night and a few casual interactions after that, you have continuously proven yourself to be deceptive and cruel."

To her shock, his bravado faltered at her words. "I was never cruel to you. I only tried to love you."

"You were still cruel to others, Riddle! And if you weren't cruel to me, what would you call your actions in the Hospital Wing? What would you call this?" Minerva thrust her sleeve up, showcasing the red imprint where he had marked her skin. Their current situation caused it to tingle unpleasantly. "You marked me forever! This has your cruelty written all over it!"

"I...McGonagall...how?" Riddle trailed off, clearly taken aback.

"When you grabbed my arm at the Slug Club ball, back in my third year," she told him crossly, shoving her sleeve back down.

"I didn't mean to do anything," he wondered aloud. Riddle seemed entranced by his own handiwork. "Could I take a look at it?"

"No! I only showed you as proof that you're not as harmless as you think," Minerva snarled. "Do you get it yet? Why you scare people off, no matter your intentions? I wear your mark every day, like a slithery cross to bear."

"If you'd only have accepted me, you wouldn't have that mark!" Riddle screamed. "Do you remember what you told me that night in the Prefects' bathroom? You told me I couldn't love you - love anyone - if my soul wasn't whole. Do you know what I did to rid myself of you? To not want you anymore?" His eyes were wild, and Minerva had a feeling that she was watching the last vestiges of Tom Riddle's humanity leave his body.

"Riddle, we haven't spoken to each other in months. I don't see-"

"Don't you understand? I've loved you since you tried to duel me for taunting that Jordan girl! Finally," he spat, "someone who could match my power, my daring."

"You were eleven," Minerva retorted, exasperated. "Honestly, if I had known that this would be the outcome, I never would have kissed you."

"But you did. I know you felt something. That kiss was going somewhere, and maybe if your mouth hadn't cut my tongue open, you would be at my side, not old Dumbledore's."

Minerva's temper flared. "There is absolutely nothing between Dumbledore and me. We are friends, nothing more."

"I wonder what Dippet would say if he knew that his deputy spent his nights with his head between the Head Girl's legs," Riddle taunted.

She rose to the bait, screaming, "Expelliarmus!"

His wand twitched out of his hand, but he managed to keep a firm grip on it. "Did I touch a nerve there, McGonagall?"

"You are such a coward," Minerva laughed, somewhat wildly. "You can't just accept that someone doesn't love you. No, you convince yourself that there must be a reason, some other man that I must love in your place. And who better than Dumbledore, a famed alchemist in his own right, widely considered to be one of the most powerful wizards of all time? I'm sure it's easy to tell yourself you lost me to him, but honestly, Riddle, I just don't love you."

"He wouldn't try to prove himself to you, to deserve you! Not the way that I have!"

"I don't want him to prove himself to- wait, what on earth did you do?" Minerva asked, not sure she wanted the answer.

"I entered this bloody tournament for you!" Riddle yelled. "That day you asked me to cover for you so you could go to Hogsmeade, I did some research. A lot of research. Apparently, the idiotic goblet can be tricked if you write down a fourth school name. Honestly, what kind of magical apparatus is that?"

"Dippet would have noticed that," she said, her voice wavering, "when he pulled your name out of the goblet."

"Ah, that was the easy part," Riddle grinned wickedly. "I charmed the parchment so that it would read "Hogwarts" to anyone else who would try to read it. And I confounded the goblet. It thinks there were four schools, not just three. I don't think that I charmed the paper as well as I thought I had, though; otherwise, it wouldn't have come out of the Goblet at the same time as yours," he frowned, his mind racing. "I need to keep training."

Minerva rolled her eyes. "What does this plot of yours have to do with me? Wouldn't a Slytherin like you want the fame?"

He shrugged. "The fame, perhaps. It's Gryffindors who want glory, not us. I just wanted to make sure you wouldn't die."

"I've managed pretty well so far, thank you," Minerva scoffed. "I don't think you helped matters by adding an extra competitor to the mix."

"Perhaps I didn't do this only for you," Riddle admitted. "I wanted to show you what we could do together. You and I could change this world for the better; there's so much power between us. Think of what we could do for the greater good. We could make sure no one has to endure what I endured. No child would have to fear their own potential, their own magic. We wouldn't have to hide for muggles anymore. We could take our proper place. We could change society."

A chill trickled down Minerva's spine. When Riddle said "greater good," it sounded akin to what Grindelwald had said in Albus' memories. It certainly didn't sound like the same greater good about which Albus had spoken when discussing sacrifices for the war effort. In future, Minerva would remember this conversation as the moment when she truly realized that there were two very different sides to every war.

"I don't want any part in your schemes, Riddle," Minerva declared. "Has anyone told you that you talk too much?"

She brandished her wand, flinging hexes and curses at him as quickly as she could. He was so occupied deflecting hers that he couldn't fight back.

"You don't have to fear Dumbledore in terms of my love for him," Minerva said casually, hoping to reinforce the notion that she wasn't having an illicit affair with their professor. "You do, however, need to fear his power. He taught me how to duel, and you're no match for him, I'm afraid."

She whipped her wand around, encasing him in a bubble. Riddle was mouthing curses at her from inside, evidently frustrated at his inability to break her protective spells. Laughing again, Minerva leant gently against the wall surrounding the Cup, relaxing into its magic. It slowly enveloped her, and in the moment it took for her to inhale, she found herself on the other side of the wall. Smirking, she waved at Riddle and wrapped her hand around the handle of the Cup.

There was a sudden pull behind her navel as she felt herself flying through space. Just as abruptly as her journey began, it ended with Minerva crashing onto the professors' platform, the Cup in hand. Cheers erupted from the stands, and she took a step back from the noise, promptly tripping over her robes.

Albus deftly caught her in his arms. "Tabby," he breathed so quietly that she almost didn't hear him. "You did it. You won."

"My arm, Albus," Minerva murmured. "Riddle...can you fix it?"

He wordlessly ran his hand over her arm, ceasing the pain. "Are you all right?" She nodded, and Albus adjusted the volume of his voice. "Well done, Miss McGonagall! A Hogwarts victor, and from my own house! I couldn't be prouder."

"Yes, well done, Miss McGonagall!" Dippet was upon her now, throwing his arms around her. He kissed her cheek gaily. "What a wonderful day for our school!"

"Oh, thank you, Headmaster," Minerva nodded her thanks, reddening under his awestruck gaze. "I did what I could."

"You did more than that," the Minister interrupted smoothly. "That was an impressive demonstration of power, Miss McGonagall. Not that we expected anything less, of course. You've performed extremely well all tournament."

Minerva got the impression that his words were more than just complimentary, but she couldn't put her finger on it. "Thank you, Minister. That's very kind of you."

He stared at her, and Minerva wavered slightly under his gaze. Turning to Albus, she said, "Would I be able to go back to my dormitory now? I'm exhausted."

"You'll need to see Madam Prewett before you attend what I can only presume will be quite the party in Gryffindor Tower," Albus smiled. "I can take you to the Hospital Wing now, if you wish."

Minerva opened her mouth, but the Minister spoke first. "Albus, the press is here. They'll want to speak to our champion."

"I believe Miss McGonagall stated that she would like to take her leave, Minister," Albus said firmly. "I'm sure you're more than capable of handling the press."

"Albus, I really must insist," the Minister protested.

"Minister, please give the press my regards. Please explain that while I am thrilled about my unexpected victory, I am feeling the effects of a nine-month-long adventure. I look forward to getting a good night's sleep, and perhaps playing some Wizard's Chess." Minerva looked at Albus with her last words, a sparkle blooming in her eyes. "I simply don't have the energy to face the press. I would appreciate the chance to go to the infirmary so that Madam Prewett can treat me, if required."

"I believe you have your statement, Minister," Albus pronounced coolly. "Have a good evening."

He took Minerva by the arm and led her away from the others. They walked off the podium and began the long walk back to the castle.

"Thank you for getting me out of that," Minerva uttered softly, shivering in the cold. "I had no desire to contend with reporters today."

"I never have any desire to handle the press," Albus snorted. "They tend to create a truth as opposed to reporting what actually happened. You gave them a show tonight."

"It couldn't have been that impressive." Minerva rolled her eyes. A thought struck her, and she gripped his arm more tightly. "Albus, did they rescue Vlad in time? I sent sparks up for him."

"Ah, so that was you." Albus clucked his tongue. "We were wondering who would have done that for him. He wasn't in the best frame of mind, I'm afraid, but Madam Prewett has assured us that he'll heal well enough. There may be some lingering nightmares, unfortunately."

"After what I saw, that doesn't seem too terrible," Minerva shuddered. "It was like something was in his head."

"Headmaster Torin was understandably displeased," Albus confided. He took note of her shaking shoulders and placed his cloak around her. "Better?"

"Much, thank you." She pressed it tightly against her chest. A warming charm was making its way through the fabric, and she sighed into the comfort it provided. "I'm thrilled that I won, but I must confess to being happier that the whole ordeal is over. Does that make me ungrateful?"

"No, I'd say that makes you wise." He paused to open the castle door. "Come on, let's get you to Lavinia."

They walked in silence for the rest of the way. Minerva was content to lean against his arm, letting him lead the way. She had exerted far too much energy once again, and the combination of her fatigue and the moving staircases was giving her a strange sense of vertigo.

"I'm so happy you won, girl!" Madam Prewett exclaimed once they had arrived at the Hospital Wing. "I've seen all four of you quite a few times now, and you were by far the most deserving."

"Thank you, Madam Prewett." Minerva blushed slightly. "Hard work and luck were a winning combination."

The elder witch snorted loudly. "Hardly luck. You put far more effort into preparation than all of them, save perhaps Mr. Riddle. Merlin knows he lacks your brain."

"Lavinia, we are here so that you can assess Miss McGonagall after the task," Albus said gently, subtly redirecting the conversation. "Would you please complete your examinations?"

"I know why you're here, Albus!" Madam Prewett scolded. "I'm just congratulating the girl. Calm your hippogriffs. Come here, missy. Let's take a look at you, hmm?"

Obliging, Minerva walked within the Medi-Witch's reach. She allowed herself to be poked and prodded. "I honestly feel exhausted, but that's all. The stairs gave me a slight case of vertigo, but otherwise, my head feels fine. I don't think I've re-injured it, if that's what you're worried about."

"After seven years, you're finally learning that you need to be open and honest with me. I can see I've done my job," she tutted approvingly. "Your magical core is more depleted than I would like, but given what you've just been through, I'm not surprised. I'd like you to take these potions and get a good night's sleep."

"I suppose Gryffindor Tower is out of the question, then," Minerva frowned, accepting the potions. "Where do you want me to go?"

"Ah, they would be throwing you a victory party, wouldn't they?" Madam Prewett's eyes narrowed. "I can't keep you here, I'm afraid. It's the end of the year, so all of my available beds have already been sent off to the laundry for cleaning." She paused for a moment, thinking. "Albus, you have a spare room. Can Miss McGonagall take up lodging with you tonight?"

His eyes bugged slightly. "Lavinia, surely that's inappropriate."

"No more inappropriate than my bedroom being located directly next to the Hospital Wing," she argued. "I can't house her here, and Gryffindor Tower will be far too much stimulus for her tonight. I need her supervised in case anything happens, Albus, and you're the logical candidate for the role. What, would you rather I send her off to Horace's dungeons?"

"No matter what happens, I will not be sleeping in Professor Slughorn's dungeons," Minerva spoke firmly. "I absolutely refuse."

"You have your Head Girl rooms," Albus suggested. "Why don't you use those?"

"Did you miss the part where I said the girl needs to be supervised?" Madam Prewett inquired sharply. "She could wind up needing medical attention. I have to send her somewhere. I'm giving you the choice. It can be you, Horace, Armando, Clara, Melody, whoever. Who should I owl?"

Albus looked at Minerva. Her eyes gave nothing away; it was his decision to make, and his alone. He sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. "She can stay with me."

"Now, was that really that hard, Albus?" Madam Prewett rolled her eyes. "Here, take these potions and go rest. Congratulations again, Miss McGonagall."

The Medi-Witch turned on her heel, leaving Albus and Minerva to their own devices. He wordlessly opened the door and held it open for her to walk through. They walked in silence back to his office. Albus stopped short of entering, turning to speak to her.

"Do you require anything from your rooms before we retire for the evening?"

Minerva shook her head. "No, I can transfigure these clothes into anything I may need."

"I suppose that if you do find yourself requiring something, we can ask Jilly to retrieve it from your dormitory. It's probably best that you avoid the party altogether. I can't imagine your friends will let you leave easily if they see you make an appearance." Albus opened the door and led her through the office to a hidden door at the rear. "Please, make yourself at home."

His quarters were airy and bright, if a bit eccentric. Billowing royal blue curtains hung from the ceiling, draped artfully around various bits of furniture. An unfinished game of chess was perched precariously on the coffee table, and his desk overflowed with various parchments and books. The fireplace roared in the corner, and Minerva sighed, moving closer to the warmth.

"This is beautiful, Albus," Minerva said softly. "I would never be able to leave if I were you."

He smiled deeply. "The castle was quite generous. However, living here does require me to do my job, and for that purpose alone, I must leave."

Minerva sank into a chair by the fire, pulling a blanket over herself. "Do you think we might have some tea?"

"Wouldn't you like to see your room first?"

"No, there's something I'd actually like to discuss with you," Minerva admitted. "One of the obstacles from the task unsettled me, and I think it may impact both of us."

Albus frowned. "Of course, my dear." He asked Jilly for the tea, and once it was sitting between them on a table, steaming, he waved her on.

"I had to duel you again," Minerva started. "It was obviously you, no enlarged head this time around. You were in ghost form, I think. Anyway, your ghost alluded to the fact that you and I have a relationship that isn't strictly platonic. You even addressed me as 'my dear'. I wanted to be sure that the Ministry isn't about to pound down your door and haul us both away."

"The Ministry used some leftover essence from the procedure for the second task to create your obstacles this time around," Albus explained. "No one knows what was contained in your memories. From our vantage point, you cast a spell at me, and I disappeared. No one thought anything of it."

"Oh, that's good," Minerva responded, somewhat absentmindedly. It had suddenly struck her that they had been handed a golden opportunity. She was required to spend the night with him in his quarters, and she didn't want to waste it siloed in a completely different room. "Albus?"

"Yes, my dear?"

"I just won the Triwizard Tournament."

"You did," Albus chuckled. "Is the reality of the situation finally setting in?"

She avoided his question by asking one of her own. "Do you still feel the same way about winning as you did last night? That it's an aphrodisiac?"

"Minerva." His voice was low. She couldn't discern if it was in want or in warning. Testing his limits, she lifted herself out of her chair, threw the blanket on the floor, and sat on the arm of his own chair, her toes resting lightly on his thigh. "I highly doubt that this is what Lavinia intended when she said you required a night of supervision, my dear."

"Whether or not it's what she meant, she presented us with an opportunity." Minerva wrapped her arms around his neck and swung herself around so she straddled him. "You and I are both smart people, Albus. It would be asinine if we didn't take advantage of the situation."

"You're here because you need rest. We don't want to risk a magical depletion, Minerva," Albus protested.

"Speak for yourself," she whispered, nipping at his ear and running her hands across his shoulders. When he didn't respond, she sighed and pulled back, looking into his eyes. "Honestly, Albus. Why are you so against this? I thought you wanted this, too. We can't guarantee an opportunity like this will come around again."

"Other than concern for your health and well-being? You're still my student, Minerva. At least, until your graduation. I'll remind you that that event is to be held two days from now."

"My graduation is in two days," she agreed, slowly unbuttoning his outer robe. "What's forty-eight hours, in the scheme of things?"

"I'd argue the difference is how I feel about my own moral code," Albus muttered, placing his hands on her hips as she worked. "If you keep this up, I'll lose my head."

"That's rather what I was going for, Albus," Minerva smiled sweetly. She lifted his arms up so he could shrug off his robe. Her victory had made her bold, and now that she was free from the threat of the tournament, she was prepared to move their relationship forward.

"Are you sure, Minerva?" he asked. His eyes met hers, care, love, and seriousness all shining out of them like as brightly as a Patronus.

"I'm positive, Albus." She pressed her lips to his firmly, doing what she could to convince him. If her tongue couldn't talk him into it, maybe it could convince him with kissing.

Her methods worked. He muttered a spell under his breath, and she felt privacy wards erect around them. Albus stood, not once breaking their kiss. Minerva wrapped her legs around him as he carried her into his bedroom. He released her gently so that she was resting lightly on the ground, pressed against him.

Feeling a sudden need for intimacy without passion, she embraced him tightly. "Never, ever ask me to kill you again, alright?" She kissed his chest and felt his heartbeat through the thin layer of his shirt. "I'm not doing it again."

"Minerva, I wasn't aware that I had asked you to kill me," Albus responded, confused. He tipped her head up so that she could look at him. "What are you talking about?"

"I just needed you to know how much you mean to me, Albus," Minerva responded honestly. "Before we go any further, I needed you to know that."

He smiled. "You mean a great deal to me, Tabby. Anything else you think I should know?"

"I've been taking the monthly contraception potion since last year," Minerva told him as she shrugged off her cloak and boots. "Oh, and Michael and I never had sex, so this will be my first time."

"You're very clinical this evening," Albus remarked, bemused.

Minerva winced, remembering a time when Michael had told her the same thing. "I'm sorry. I don't know how to fix that."

He helped her remove her shirt and then watched as she removed her bra, seemingly unfazed while undressing in front of him. "You don't have to fix who you are. Not for me."

"I love that you said that," she breathed, jumping back into his arms. "Thank you for catching me."

"Always," Albus murmured, laying her back on his bed. He positioned himself over top of her, giving himself room to kiss his way down her stomach. His beard tickled her as he moved down to her waist. He raised a questioning eyebrow at her, and she nodded, permitting him to remove her pants.

Albus wrestled them off of her, wandlessly cleaning any remaining mud from the task off of her legs. He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. "You're beautiful, Tabby."

She blushed. "Your turn." Minerva tried to undo his pants but found it a difficult task from her position. "Can you help?"

He snapped his fingers and magically, his clothes were gone. She could feel his thighs pinning hers to the bed. "Is that better?"

"Why didn't you just do that in the bloody first place?" she grumbled. Minerva kneaded her hands into his hair. "Would have saved so much time."

Albus chuckled softly. "Minerva, one last time: are you sure about this?"

She adjusted her position so that their foreheads were pressed together. "Simply know that I said yes, that I'm saying yes, and that I'll always say yes."

"Always?"

"As surely as you'll always catch me," Minerva promised, and she was rewarded with a passionate kiss. He laughed when she flipped them over, the rustling sheets their personal soundtrack for the evening.

Their tea lay forgotten in the next room, its steam evaporating into the air.