A/N: Thank you for the lovely messages after the last chapter.

C/W: Character death ahead.

For the disclaimer, please see the prologue.

Chapter Twenty-Five: June 1944, Pt. II

Minerva awoke in an unfamiliar room, the faintest tinges of the impending sunrise peeking through the curtains. Albus twitched beside her, and she sighed contentedly, leaning her head against his chest. The movement caused him to stir awake. He yawned and wrapped his arm around her.

"I thought you hated early mornings," Albus mumbled, his head atop of hers. "Why are you up so early?"

"I just happened to wake up, Albus. No sinister motivation involved, I promise," Minerva smiled. "There is something rather beautiful about waking up in this huge, fancy bed to watch the sunrise with you, though."

"I hope it's something we can do more of in future." He kissed the side of her head. "Did you sleep well?"

"I slept perfectly, thank you. And before you can ask, I feel fine, too. I don't think my magic depleted any more than it already was," Minerva frowned. "In fact, I actually feel a lot better."

"That's excellent news, my dear." Albus' stomach rumbled, and she bit back a giggle at the sound. "I, on the other hand, am hungry and worn out."

Minerva sat up instantly, her forehead creasing in concern. "If I was a nuisance, you could have kicked me out. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable in your own bed."

"Minerva, I'm fine." He took her head in his hands and stared into her eyes. "You didn't cause me any problems; in fact, I slept better than I have in years. I feel like I have a hangover, which is odd considering we didn't consume any alcohol last night. Perhaps you just wore me out, hmm?"

She blushed as his eyes twinkled mischievously. "That's not funny, Albus. I worry about you, you know. Maybe that's it: you've been worried about me for so long that now that the threat is gone, your body is releasing the stress."

"That's a good theory," he admitted. "Perhaps I'll ask Lavinia to take a look at me when I take you to see her today."

"You're making me go back?" Minerva groaned.

"You exerted plenty of energy yesterday, and I want to make sure you're right as rain," Albus said firmly. "I won't have you get worse on my account."

"If I feed you, will you change your mind?" she retorted, raising an eyebrow. He pulled her back down and tickled her, causing her to burst into laughter.

"I won't be changing my mind, but I'll feel better. Perhaps then Lavinia will have more time for you." Albus poked her ribs one last time. "I must admit, however, that I am loathe to get out of bed."

"Then don't," Minerva shrugged. "Tell me something."

"Tell you something?" She could hear the amusement in his voice. "What do you want me to tell you?"

"Something that I wouldn't expect to hear from the great Albus Dumbledore," Minerva suggested, suddenly nervous. "Something just for me?"

Albus was quiet for a moment, considering. "I like tenpin bowling."

"You like bowling? As in, the muggle sport?"

"Yes, and if I am ever so fortunate as to get my name on a chocolate frog card, that is the only thing I would want to be on it."

"That's not something just for me then, is it?" Minerva teased.

"If I go bowling only with you, would that rectify my error?"

"Are you asking me out on a date, Albus Dumbledore?"

"If you'll have me, Minerva McGonagall. It would most likely have to be after the war is over, but yes, I would be happy to go bowling with you."

She kissed him soundly, thrilled at the prospect. "Now that I've wrangled a date from you, let's get you some food."

Minerva went to swing herself out of bed, but he held her back. "We could ask Jilly to bring us food here, if you're comfortable with that. I trust her implicitly."

"If you trust her, I see no reason why I shouldn't."

"Jilly?" Albus called. He waited for the pop that usually accompanied her arrival, but she didn't appear. "Jilly?"

"That's...odd." Minerva propped herself up on her elbows, concerned. "Is she okay?"

"I don't know. That has never happened before." Albus furrowed his brow, concern lacing his voice. "Let's get up, get dressed, and get your wand out, my dear."

"My wand?" Minerva muttered, doing his bidding. She transfigured yesterday's clothes into her regular, everyday attire. "Albus, why my wand?"

"Something doesn't feel quite right." Albus shook his head, looking around the room. "Follow me closely into the main room."

She nodded, and they walked slowly into his living room. Albus turned to lock the bedroom door behind him but stopped suddenly, laughing.

"Albus?"

"I forgot that I put up privacy wards last night," he chuckled, "once I realized how insistent you were. I didn't mean to cast such strong wards, though; I didn't intend to prohibit Jilly from entering."

He dropped the wards, and mayhem overcame his quarters.

"Holy shit," Minerva gaped, watching as letters came flying through his fireplace, settling on whatever surface they could find. Jilly suddenly appeared, out of breath.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir!" Jilly panted. "Where has you been? Everyone's be looking for you."

"Is everything all right, Jilly?" Albus bent down beside his loyal elf. "Are you okay?"

"Everyone wants to knows where you are, Professor Dumbledore. Something has happened, but Jilly doesn't know." The elf shook her head. "The Headmaster is on his way back. He's been here three times already looking for you."

"Thank you, Jilly, that will be all," Albus said softly, watching as she popped away.

"What do the letters say, Albus?" Minerva watched as he opened one. His eyes traced the page, and she could practically see his heart stop as he froze. "Albus?"

"Minerva, I-" He was interrupted by a knock coming from outside of the office door. "Follow me."

They walked through his quarters and office to his main door. Albus opened it, and an irate Dippet walked through it.

"Where in God's name have you been, Albus? I've been trying to reach you for the last six hours! And what's Miss McGonagall doing here?" Dippet added, his eyes settling on Minerva.

"Lavinia had advised us that Miss McGonagall required supervision after yesterday's task, and she suggested my spare room as a suitable place for rest. I placed privacy charms on my quarters so that she could sleep uninterrupted by any duties of mine that may have arisen throughout the night. Unfortunately, I cast them more strongly than I intended," Albus offered to his employer. "I did open one of your letters this morning, Armando, so I am aware of the unfortunate news."

"So you'll know a student has died! And only a year after the last one! This isn't good, Albus, it's not good at all! Parents have to be contacted, and the press is here. They're still quite angry with you, Miss McGonagall, after you didn't indulge them yesterday. I would avoid them if I were you. Oh, and the Minister would like a word with you. With both of you, actually," Dippet sighed, utterly exhausted. "Albus, we both know I don't handle these sorts of things very well."

Minerva had frozen in place. "I'm sorry, Headmaster, but what did you say? A student has died? Who was it?"

She watched Albus and Dippet exchange a glance, and her heart dropped when Albus approached her, gently helping her to sit down in her usual chair. Minerva fell into it, his hand resting on her leg. "This may come as a shock, Miss McGonagall..." he trailed off, his voice failing him.

"Al-Professor?" Minerva corrected, shooting a furtive glance towards Dippet. "What happened?"

Her heartbeat quickened as she recognized sorrow in Albus' eyes. "I am so sorry, but if the note on my desk is correct, then Charlotte Creevey passed away last night."

There was silence as Minerva stared at him, dumbfounded. She shook her head, unbelieving. "I spoke to her the night before last. I woke up in the bed beside her just yesterday morning. That girl hasn't had an injury in seven years, and you're telling me she's dead? That's impossible."

"Your dorm-mates found her this morning. Madam Prewett's tests show that she fell ill during the night and succumbed early this morning, Miss McGonagall," Dippet bit out, tension evident in his words. "The Minister would like to speak to you about it. Well, he wants all three of us in my office, actually."

Minerva turned to Albus in denial, although her hands had begun to shake. "You must be joking. You mean to tell me that Charlotte died? While we were in here? I couldn't see her because I was here and we were unreachable?"

"I am so deeply sorry, Minerva," Albus apologized softly, slipping into informality, his guilty conscience written across his face. "I know the two of you were very close."

She stared at him, shocked. Minerva's mouth opened in horror as her mind stretched beyond Charlotte to the rest of her friends. "How is Aidan? What about the rest of the girls? I need to see them!" Her voice rose with every syllable she spoke.

"Mr. Scrimgeour is understandably distraught," Dippet sighed, "and your roommates are also upset. Madam Prewett is observing them all, providing Calming Draughts when required. They're worried about you."

"Me? I'm worried about them! They had to handle this alone, without me. I can't believe it!" Minerva cried. Her voice grew frantic as a million thoughts raced through her mind. She was slowly learning how to keep her emotions under control until she could process them, but at the moment, the only thing she could focus on was Charlotte and her friends. Her family for the last seven years had been ripped apart from her in their final moments together, and it stung her soul.

"You need to be with your friends. I'll escort you to the infirmary," Albus decided, throwing on an outer cloak.

"How did this happen?" Minerva asked angrily, directing her frustration at the Headmaster. Tears slipped down her face, but she paid them no mind. "She didn't have a pre-existing condition. I would have known about it after seven years in the same bloody bedroom."

"Miss McGonagall," Dippet began, nervously wringing his hands together, "this is why the Minister would like to speak with you. We'll need to head to my office before the infirmary."

"Armando, surely that can wait," Albus protested.

"These aren't my orders, Albus." Dippet shook his head slowly. "They're the Minister's."

"Well, for Merlin's sake then, let's get on with it!" Minerva pushed herself out of the chair and left the room, distress and fear propelling her forward. She could distantly hear the men hurrying behind them as her heeled boots clipped the stone corridors; louder still was the echo of Charlotte's voice in her mind. Their last conversation played on a reel, Minerva determined to see if there was anything she might have missed. How resigned yet hopeful Charlotte had been to a future without Aidan. How excited she was for graduation. How she had asked Minerva to still be friends. How could she have thought we wouldn't be friends? Minerva asked herself, her mind compiling a futile list of all the things she wanted to say to Charlotte. As she walked along the corridors, her glasses became increasingly tear-stained. Taking them off with one hand, Minerva angrily rubbed at them, wishing she could go back to lounging lazily in bed with Albus, her mind calm and blissfully unaware.

He appeared behind her, placing his hand lightly on her shoulder. "I'll get you through this meeting as quickly as possible."

She gave him a tight smile as they rounded the final corner. "Thank you."

They rode the staircase up to Dippet's office in silence. The Headmaster opened the door to reveal the Minister, Professor Slughorn, and Riddle sitting around the desk. At the sight of Riddle, the truth of what must have happened hit Minerva like the Hogwarts Express.

"YOU!" she roared, entering the office and drawing her wand. "You chose to pass by the bloody witch, didn't you?"

"Miss McGonagall!" Dippet gasped, aghast. "What are you talking about?"

"You're the reason Charlotte is dead!" Minerva screamed. She wanted nothing more than to tear Riddle apart limb from limb and then throw the pieces into the Black Lake. "How could you, you filthy, idiotic coward!" She lunged at him, only to be held back by Albus.

"DO NOT CALL ME A COWARD!" Riddle jumped out of his seat and withdrew his own wand, pointing it at Minerva's chin.

"Settle down, both of you. Now." The Minister spoke firmly, only raising his voice slightly. Albus pulled Minerva towards himself and Riddle slowly sat down again, heeding their orders. "McGonagall, to fill you in, we are aware that the two of you faced an obstacle yesterday that required you to either duel a witch or pass by unscathed at someone else's expense."

Minerva rose an eyebrow. She forced herself to compartmentalize her emotions, knowing it wouldn't help to be thrown out of the room. "That is correct. I chose the honourable way out. Given that Charlotte suddenly dropped dead for no apparent reason, I would bet all of my winnings that Riddle here decided to risk someone else's skin instead of his own."

"Mr. Riddle?" Dippet asked, tentatively. "Which option did you choose?"

Riddle rolled his eyes. "I wished the lady a good day and walked right by her. It was a do-or-die tournament. I wasn't going to risk my life and put myself in even more danger."

Professor Slughorn patted Riddle's arm in an attempt to reassure him. "Now, Tom, my dear boy, you did what you thought was best for yourself. No one else would have chosen to duel someone unnecessarily."

"I damn well did duel the witch!" Minerva shouted. "It wasn't that hard to choose, Professor!"

"What are the repercussions, Minister?" Albus interjected softly. "You summoned us all here for a reason, I would presume. Now we all know that both Miss McGonagall and Mr. Riddle faced a witch who issued them an ultimatum. They each chose a different path. Most horrifically, one of our students has died as a result of one of these decisions. What are you going to do about it?"

"You can't do anything to me," Riddle sneered, somewhat imperiously. "A champion is protected from judicial consequences when acting during a task of the Triwizard Tournament. Check page three-hundred and ninety-four of the rulebook."

"Doing more research, Riddle?" Her face paled as another mystery clicked into place. "Did you hurt Vlad, as well?"

"We were at the same obstacle, and we had to duel. There was no other way out," he shrugged. "He'll be fine in the end, I hear."

"BUT CHARLOTTE ISN'T, YOU BLITHERING IDIOT!" Minerva lost control, bellowing at the man who had plagued her since her second year.

"I think it may be best if Riddle takes his leave now." The Minister nodded in the Slytherin's direction. "Horace, please take him back to the Slytherin common room."

Minerva watched as they left, her heart thumping dangerously. Once the door slammed, she turned fiercely to the Minister. "Sir, you cannot tell me that he is going to walk away freely. You need to lock him up before he can hurt anyone else."

"McGonagall, I wish I could," Minister Spencer-Moon admitted, taking off his hat and tossing it across the desk. "As inconvenient as it is, Riddle is right. I can't actually charge him with anything, not when he was protected under the auspices of the tournament."

"Minister, then you need to prevent this tournament from happening ever again," Minerva told him crossly. "My friend..." her voice clouded, thick with sadness, "is dead because of a dangerous tournament and a cowardly teenage boy. You must stop it, now. How preposterous is it that an innocent bystander was killed because of a champion's choice?"

"It is preposterous, you're right," the Minister agreed. "I don't know how to cancel a centuries-old tournament, though. There will be pushback, and it won't be pleasant."

"Who gives a damn about the public's perception when the reality is that students are dying?" Minerva retorted, indignant. "During a war, you would think people would appreciate fewer opportunities for unnecessary death."

"Minister, I think that Miss McGonagall is correct," Albus intervened. "Miss Creevey wasn't the first student to die because of this tournament, but we can ensure that she is the last. Moreover, we still don't know why there were four champions. The entire event has been subsumed in suspicious activity from the start."

Minerva swallowed anxiously. She didn't want to admit that she knew how Riddle did it; she didn't need Albus worrying about Riddle's infatuation with her. Biting her lip, she turned to the Headmaster as he voiced his opinion.

"What about a fifty-year moratorium on the tournament?" Dippet suggested. "That would take us until 1994, and surely by then, no one would permit such a dangerous activity."

Fifty years in the future, Minerva would have reason to wish she had fought that notion, but at eighteen years old, bereaved and heartbroken, she found the idea to be quite reasonable.

"I think that would suffice," she offered. "Professor Dumbledore?"

"If the Minister is amenable to the idea, I'd say it's the best we have." Albus looked at the Minister, who nodded tersely. "Well, if that's settled then, Miss McGonagall needs another check-up from Lavinia and should be left alone to grieve with her friends in peace thereafter."

"Not so fast, Albus," the Minister tutted. "I need to speak with McGonagall. Armando, you're fine if we occupy your office for a while longer, aren't you?"

"I suppose, yes, of course," Dippet frowned. "Albus, why don't the two of us head to the infirmary and check on the students there?"

Albus looked at Minerva, clearly trying to gauge how comfortable she felt. She nodded minutely, and he made his excuses. "I expect to see you shortly, Miss McGonagall." He followed Dippet out the door, shutting it softly behind him.

"Please, sit down, McGonagall." The Minister gestured at the seat that Riddle had vacated. "I need to speak with you about something."

Minerva sat cautiously, willing herself to remain calm. "What can I help you with, sir?"

"I would like to offer you a personal invitation to join the Aurors." He leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk. "You're the type of person I could use on my team, particularly during wartime."

Whatever she had been expecting, this wasn't it. "Minister, that's very kind of you, but I don't know that I even qualify. I don't have my NEWT scores back yet."

The Minister snorted. "I'm sure it'll come as no surprise to you that you received a mark of 'Outstanding' on all of your examinations. You've just achieved the most NEWTs ever, tying Dumbledore's score. Well done."

Despite the day she was having, Minerva inwardly congratulated herself. "Thank you, Minister."

"You're also a very talented duellist," he continued, "and I need someone who can fight with your strength. Obviously, Dumbledore trained you well. Your non-verbal magic skills are impressive, and you have a logical mind that would serve you well as an Auror."

"Minister, please tell me this tournament wasn't held as mere means of finding soldiers fresh out of school," Minerva said slowly, her eyes narrowing. "That would be nothing short of barbaric."

"I knew I liked you the moment I met you last year when you barged in here and argued with me about that Haggarty boy," the Minister chuckled, and Minerva didn't bother to correct his mistake. "No, that's not why the tournament was held. It turned out to be quite convenient, though."

"Sir, I had planned on achieving my mastery after school," Minerva informed him. "My goal is to continue my education before hopefully returning here to teach."

"There won't be a Hogwarts left for you to come back to if we lose the war, McGonagall," he told her bluntly. "With you, we might have a shot. You should know that I left your Animagus form off of our national registry. It would come in handy as an Auror, and I didn't want to expose you."

"You seem to be quite convinced that I'll be joining the war effort, Minister."

"McGonagall, you may think you're an enigma, but I've been in the political realm for a very long time. I know what moves you're going to make before you've even thought of them. You may think that you're playing coy, but after talking to Dumbledore and Dippet, I have your number."

"And what exactly is my number, pray tell?"

"Your sense of duty and loyalty to your friends comes before all else," the Minister recited, counting off his fingers, "and you're incredibly intelligent. You have a duty to this country, and you know it, and even though you may hate the idea of war, you like the idea of fighting. Of duelling, of contributing. Of winning. All Gryffindors do. You're smart enough to know that your studies would most likely be interrupted due to the war anyway, or at the very least, your experience would be marred. Lastly," a knowing look crossed his face, "you love your friends. Your brother is already an Auror, and your friend Scrimgeour intends to join him. Dumbledore, your esteemed professor, has informed me that he has finally agreed to help our Aurors bring down Grindelwald for once and for all. If nothing else, you care about those three men. You'll want to be near them for as long as you can be."

Minerva stared at him, loathing the fact that he knew enough about her to surmise all that. Even more, she hated that he was right. She closed her eyes in an attempt to remain as professional as she could. "Minister, I don't think it's a good time for me to give you an official answer. I need to be reexamined by Madam Prewett to make sure I'm medically fit to make any decision, let alone one that concerns to serving in a war effort. And, in case you had forgotten, I recently discovered that my friend has died unexpectedly."

He jutted his chin towards the door. "While I extend my sincerest condolences, governing doesn't give me a lot of time to sit and twiddle my thumbs. I can't wait all day for an answer, but I can certainly wait a few hours. I'll be here when you're ready."

"Thank you, Minister," she sighed, standing up and crossing the room.

"Oh, McGonagall?"

"Yes, sir?" Minerva turned to face him. "What else can I help you with?"

"I'll tell the press you're otherwise occupied," the Minister remarked. "Consider it payment in advance of you joining my team."

She looked at him hard before nodding tersely. The walk from Dippet's office to the Hospital Wing was a blur, both in terms of speed and the tears streaming down her face. Twelve hours ago, her life had been planned out and was exactly the way she wanted it to be. Now, it seemed that her world had rotated on shifting sands, and her walls were crashing down around her. Her grieving heart warred with her mind, trying to give each problem due consideration. Arriving at the Hospital Wing with both Charlotte and the Minister's voices in her head, Minerva steeled herself.

Opening the door, nothing could have prepared her for the sight before her. Aidan reminded her of Diana all those years ago, bent and broken and strapped to a hospital bed. His wails sliced through the air like a scythe, causing more tears to slip down her cheeks. Her roommates were gathered around him, holding each other up as best as they could.

"Oh, there you are, Miss McGonagall." Madam Prewett approached her and pulled her into a motherly hug. "This has been quite the twenty-four hours for you, hasn't it, my girl? Can I pull you away for your examination before the others see you?"

She nodded, allowing the matron to lead her to an empty bed. Madam Prewett flicked her wrist, and the curtains closed around them. Minerva stood there, robotically going through the motions, allowing herself to be poked and prodded, all the while thinking of Charlotte and Aurors, of Aidan and the Minister.

"Your magical core is almost back to normal," the Medi-Witch commented, "and everything else looks to be in order."

"I'm happy to hear it," Minerva replied, sounding anything but.

"There's just one thing," Madam Prewett continued, fishing around for a potion in one of the drawers. "Can I ask why your diagnostic shows that you had sex last night?"

Minerva froze, bringing her mind back to the issue at hand. "Why on earth would your diagnostic spell show that?"

"The spell tracks your magical energy; it shows aberrations in activity levels. You can see here," Madam Prewett pointed at a graph floating above Minerva's head, "that your magical core was obviously very active during the tournament yesterday. Then, it calms down for a while, until last evening." She tapped her finger against a sudden spike on the chart.

"Why have you drawn that particular conclusion? I could have been doing anything," Minerva asked, somewhat defensively.

"Minerva, dear," the Medi-Witch soothed softly, "I know you've had an awful day, but you might recall that these tests also show what potions are actively working in your body. Before today, your contraception potion was dormant. Now, it's running wild, actively preventing pregnancy."

"Oh," Minerva swallowed. "I suppose the proverbial cat is out of the bag, then. Are you going to tell the Minister?"

"After hearing my story, do you really think I'd do that?" Madam Prewett ran a hand over the girl's hair, smoothing it gently. "No, of course not. Besides which, you're overage, and you graduate tomorrow."

"That's exactly what I said," Minerva muttered.

"And," the older witch continued, smirking at Minerva's remark, "I think you're a good match. Not many people can break down Albus' walls the way you can."

"You two are close," Minerva commented, somewhat hesitant.

"Albus and I may have overlapped in school, but my husband is a father figure to him. He's like a surrogate son to me, as weird as that is to say about someone who is practically your own age."

"I suppose the age difference makes things rather complicated," Minerva admitted. "I think Albus is about the same age as my father. In fact, he may even be older."

"It makes for some awkward conversations," Madam Prewett agreed, "but it has all been worth it in the end." She looked at the younger girl, who, for various reasons, reminded her so much of herself. "You're not close to your mother, are you?"

"It's difficult because she wants nothing more than to be a witch, but she hides her abilities in the name of love. I don't want to say anything that would make her upset," Minerva frowned. "Why?"

"I'm here if you need me, Minerva. Sometimes it helps to talk to someone who has walked your path. I have a feeling you don't open up much at home."

Minerva's heart melted. She tended to be more reserved at home, although that was primarily due to her father's hatred of all things magical. It was her self-adopted rule that everything in her life stayed hidden and compartmentalized as a result. "You're right, thank you. I appreciate it."

"Of course," Madam Prewett winked. She offered the potion she had found to Minerva. "Take this; you'll feel calmer. And please, call me Lavinia."

"Do you have any advice on that situation?" Minerva jerked her head in the direction of Aidan's bed, accepting the potion glumly. "I...I don't know what to do. I feel lost." To her horror, tears started leaking from her eyes. "And then the Minister talked to me, and..."

"Come here, girl," Madam Prewett sighed, pulling Minerva into her arms. "In terms of the situation out there, all you can do is be present and honour your own emotions. That's how you'll help your friends and yourself. This isn't a wound you can fix; otherwise, I would have already done that for all of you."

"I keep hearing her voice," Minerva whispered into the older woman's shoulder. "Our last conversation, over and over."

"Do not think you could have done anything to change this. This isn't your fault, no matter what you think." Madam Prewett took Minerva's chin in her hand and forced Minerva to look at her. "You didn't cause this."

"But the tournament was my fault," Minerva protested meekly, needing someone to understand that Riddle had only participated because of her. "I did this, and if I hadn't entered, then-"

"Then someone else would have, and someone else may have died. You can't take one choice in isolation and say that it would have changed everything for the better. You don't know that." The matron's voice was firm. "You may not ever fully heal from this, but the first step in healing at all is to relinquish responsibility for it. This did not happen because of anything you did or didn't do, alright?"

Minerva nodded, allowing tears to flick off her cheeks and onto Madam Prewett's apron. "And what do I do about the Minister?"

Madam Prewett frowned and pursed her lips. "What did our esteemed Minister say, exactly?"

"He presented me with an option that I didn't think existed," Minerva sighed, wiping her eyes. "I should probably see Aidan first, though, before I think of that."

"One hurdle at a time." She released Minerva, squeezing her shoulder gently. "That's all you can do." Madam Prewett pulled back the curtains, revealing Minerva to her friends.

"Min!" Harriet caught sight of her first, tissues torn to shreds in between her fingers. "Come here."

Minerva joined her friends, looping an arm around Harriet and pulling her close. "It feels good to hug you."

"You, too." Harriet squeezed her arm and smiled, despite the evident tear-tracks down her cheeks. "Madam Prewett has cleared you?"

"I'm physically fine, yes."

"Thank Merlin. I couldn't handle anything else today," Harriet sniffled.

Minerva looked up from Harriet to watch Poppy and Augusta. The girls were snuggled together on a nearby couch, an opened chocolate bar strewn across their blankets. "How are the others?"

"As bad as we are," Harriet said simply. "Poppy feels especially bad because she thinks she should have been able to stop it, what with all of the practice she's had with Madam Prewett."

"Survivor's guilt," Minerva shook her head, inwardly sighing. "And Aidan?"

"He's been asking for you," Harriet admitted, and Minerva's heart wrenched at the words. "I've stayed beside him until you could get here. I'll give you some time to talk to him alone." She stood up and sat beside the others on the couch.

"Aidan?" Minerva asked tentatively, placing her hand on his. "Can you hear me?"

"McGonagall?"

She released a hoarse laugh. "Yes, it's me."

"I want my ten percent cut of your winnings, now that you've officially won." Aidan attempted to grin but fell far short of his goal. "I'm happy you're here."

"I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier," Minerva whispered, doing her best to heed Madam Prewett's words and feel. "I'm so, so sorry, Aidan. I should have been there this morning."

"I'm happy you weren't." He closed his eyes. "Everyone screamed when they found her. I can't get the noises out of my head. I would be even more miserable if I had heard you, too."

Tears threatened her eyesight, rubbing against her glasses. "Aidan, I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."

"You weren't to know, and Madam Prewett told us this morning that Dumbledore needed to look after you," he replied. Even when he was mourning the loss of his girlfriend, he still felt the need to reassure her. "Min, we don't blame you for anything."

"Aidan, I just want to help-"

"Then help me figure this out," Aidan interjected, angry and flushed. "Help me understand why someone so good was ripped from this world for no reason at all. Help me understand how I can feel so angry even though we weren't going to last much longer. Tell me why it feels like my heart has shrivelled into tiny pieces and stabbed me from the inside, poking me where ever it can. Can you explain why, even though we were fighting nonstop, I miss her so much that I feel lost? Like I should turn my head and see her here beside you?"

"Because fighting means you care, Aidan," Minerva choked out, her voice rough with emotion. "If you hadn't cared, you would have just given up. You did care. That's why it hurts so much."

"This isn't right, Min!" Aidan wailed desperately, his hands clutching hers. "She should be here at graduation! When Lucy has her baby, she should be there!"

Minerva's heart sank further, plummeting to the ground. It hadn't occurred to her that Callum and Lucy would need to be told. "She should, Aidan. I don't think Charlotte would have wanted us to turn those into sad occasions, but-"

"Don't you dare say that!" he screamed, catching the attention of the room's other occupants. "How do you know what she wanted? No one can know now because she is dead, Min!"

"All I mean to say," Minerva soothed, "is that she loved her time here with us, and she loved Callum and Lucy. She would have made the most of those moments. We should do the same, even if only to honour her."

"I'm going to find out who did this," Aidan vowed darkly, "and kill them. That would honour her."

At the last moment, Minerva managed to stop her eyebrows from raising. "What do you mean, who did this?"

"She was cursed, Min," Aidan spat, "and no one knows how or why."

"What?" Minerva asked, aghast. She made a mental note to ask Albus why Aidan hadn't been given the full details of the situation.

"Char didn't wake up this morning. Apparently, she was hit with a curse at the tournament, but she was fine at the party last night, I swear," Aidan's voice cracked. "She was worried about you, but she was fine."

"Worried about me?"

"Well, we all were," Aidan told her, "considering you won, left immediately, and then didn't show up all night. Charlotte was even more worried than Poppy, if you can believe it. It took all four of us to convince her that you would be fine."

"I had to be supervised by Dumbledore," she whispered, explaining the situation, even though it didn't matter, that he already knew. She couldn't explain herself to dear, sweet Charlotte, who had spent her last hours worrying about where Minerva was. Minerva swallowed the guilt roughly.

"Remember when I was excited about this tournament?" Aidan asked morosely. "What if I did this? What if this is the universe's twisted way of telling me I don't deserve to be happy?"

"Aidan, you didn't do this. Listen to me. This wasn't your fault," she begged him to understand. It's my fault, Minerva thought miserably. "Aidan, you couldn't have done anything."

He simply shook his head. "I'm going to fix this, no matter what you say. They showed me my NEWT results: my Auror application was accepted. I am going to learn everything I can about dark wizards and dark magic, and then I am going to hunt down whoever did this, and I will kill them." His magic crackled around them, sending a chair hurtling into a cabinet across the room.

"Mr. Scrimgeour," Madam Prewett called, "do you need another Calming Draught?"

"No!" Aidan yelled back, his anger evaporating into sadness. "No, I need Charlotte. Can't we bring her back?" He looked at Minerva, his eyes wide and helpless. "What's the point in magic if we can't save the people we love?"

Minerva leaned over and took him in her arms as he wept, his tears dampening her robes. She cried silently beside him, mourning not only Charlotte, but the loss of Aidan's innocence. Feeling eyes on her, she sat up gently, looking into the saddened faces of Poppy, Augusta, and Harriet. Her sadness slowly morphed into rage, knowing she would do anything to stand by them, to protect them, to ensure that nothing like this would ever happen again. With Aidan sobbing into her side, Minerva released a slow breath, truly thinking about the Minister's words for the first time. She did her best to separate her grief from what should be a logical decision, but she knew in that instant that Madam Prewett- Lavinia- was wrong. It was impossible to analyze the two issues separately, not when they both concerned her love for her friends, her protective nature, and her need to fight back. They could not be separated because together they made her who she was. Joining the Aurors would give her the emotional control she craved, and it was also the most logical path to ensure everyone she loved was protected. With her best friend curled up beside her, she made her decision.

Hours later, having slipped deftly by Albus and Dippet, Minerva let herself into Dippet's office, arms crossed defiantly across her chest. "Minister, if you want me to work for you, I have a few demands."

Minister Spencer-Moon allowed a sly smile to settle across his face, looking very much like the cat who caught the canary. "Take a seat, McGonagall."

Minerva sat on a hill overlooking the lake, the quidditch pitch to her left. It was a beautiful day: the sun shone brightly on the water, illuminating its ripples, and the wind was gentle, almost like it knew the day had been the complete opposite.

"You forgot your winnings, my dear." She turned to see Albus walking up the hill. A heavy bag hung loosely from his hand, presumably her galleons. He gestured to the empty space beside her. "May I join you?"

"Of course."

He settled in beside her, and she knew what was coming before he could say the words. "Minerva, I must apologize that you weren't with your friends this morning. I hate that I kept you from those who needed you most."

"Albus, you have absolutely nothing to apologize for. In case you've forgotten, I initiated everything last night. Don't carry a guilty conscience for something that wasn't your idea. And before you get any ideas, I don't regret what happened. In fact, it's the one thing keeping me afloat right now," her face softened. "I hope you don't regret it, either."

"I don't regret it happening," Albus began, "and I doubt I ever could. I just wish the circumstances this morning could have been different."

Minerva snorted humourlessly. "I can't say I disagree with you."

"How is Mr. Scrimgeour?"

"He is about as terrible as you would expect," Minerva sighed. She cast a cloaking spell around them, giving her the freedom to lean against his shoulder. Albus murmured his own more advanced spells to protect them in tandem with hers. "He blames himself."

"Surely you can talk him out of that," Albus said, looping an arm around her.

"I don't think I can," she shook her head. "Albus, why doesn't Aidan know what happened to Charlotte?"

"Lavinia thought he wasn't in the right frame of mind to handle it." Albus closed his eyes. "Apparently, he posed a risk to himself and to others. The general consensus was that he most likely would have killed Mr. Riddle if he knew the truth."

"So we're going to keep this from him forever?"

"You don't need to keep it a secret if you don't wish to. The Minister didn't swear you to secrecy. However," Albus cautioned her, "I am worried that it would do more harm than good. Men can lose their heads in their quest for vengeance."

She considered Aidan's anger. "I am inclined to agree with you."

"And how are you faring?"

"I feel horrible. I don't understand it. I mean, I obviously understand it, but I don't understand how someone can just be here one moment and then not the next," Minerva whispered softly, tears touching her eyelashes. "It's not right, and it's not fair. I knew that people would die during the war, but this wasn't war. This was cowardice and cruelty and a lack of personal responsibility."

"We both know that I have some experience with loss," Albus expressed hesitantly, and Minerva knew he meant the death of his sister. She wrapped her hand tightly around his in an attempt to comfort him. "I don't believe I could say anything that would help. All I can offer is to be here for you in whatever capacity you need."

"I sincerely appreciate that," she said, and meant it. Exhaling slowly, she changed the subject. "Albus, this is the second person that Riddle has murdered. Directly or indirectly, he has killed two students here."

"I know," he sighed wearily, tugging at his beard. "I worry about next year, particularly if I'm still at the frontlines and Armando is here on his own. Horace has a tendency to bulldoze over anyone who criticizes one of his favourite students."

"You have to tell him what we know," Minerva beseeched him. "Please."

"I will do what I can, Minerva. He already knows about Miss Creevey, and I'll show him your memory of last year. I can lead him to the answer, but I can't convince him."

"I know. Thank you."

"Then let's say nothing more about it." Albus kissed the top of her head. "I do have a different question for you, though. When I bid the Minister goodbye, he gave me your winnings and boasted rather proudly that you would be joining us on the battlefield. Did I miss something, or has your career goal changed?"

"Lord, I wanted to talk to you first," Minerva muttered. "Damn the Minister. This morning, he asked me to join his team. He was apparently impressed by my abilities, and he knew what buttons to push to get me to consider it."

"He didn't coerce you, did he?" Albus' voice was fierce.

"No, my love, he didn't." Minerva squeezed his hand, missing the way his face beamed at the term of endearment. "He simply redirected my attention and forced me to consider all of my options. Rightfully, he pointed out that you, Callum, and Aidan will all be on the Auror forces. I can't protect the three of you if I'm not with you."

"Minerva, you don't need to protect me," Albus told her seriously. "I would rather you be safe somewhere else."

"And I would rather help you win this war so we can all be safe and resume our normal existences as quickly as possible," she retorted. "Aidan is going to need emotional support, particularly after today, and Callum will be a new father. He'll be a wreck. I can help to keep their minds off things. It'll be like we're in my early years here, the trio reunited."

"And me?"

"And you," a smile broke across her face, "you, I just want to spend time with."

"There's no guarantee you'll be posted at our unit," Albus frowned, "or that we'll all be together."

"Ah, ah, ah," Minerva grinned, tapping his nose. "I told the Minister that if he expected me to change my career plans the day before graduation, he had better make it worth my while. The four of us will be kept together. The entire time, I might add, provided none of us gets hurt. And none of us will be forced to leave due to injury. I'll make sure of that," she added fiercely.

"So you've thought of everything, then," Albus remarked.

"Almost," she laughed. "I'm hoping that this gives you the opportunity to get to know Callum and Aidan outside of the classroom."

"I look forward to it, my dear."

"There's just one thing," Minerva continued. "I recall you telling Professor Carter that you had to end your relationship because you didn't think it wise for two fighters to be dating during a war. Did you just want to be rid of her, or did I end...this," she waved between them, "before it began?"

"I'll admit that it was a convenient excuse," Albus confessed. "Not my finest moment, but she was far too persistent. You'll have to work a lot harder to get rid of me. And if I recall correctly, you once told me that war wasn't the right time for anything 'extra-curricular'. It would seem that you've changed your mind, no?"

"Touché," she grumbled, burrowing herself into his side, letting him run his fingers through her hair.

He laughed at her before turning serious once more. "Tabby, what about your mastery?"

"Schools will continue to exist, and I can go after all of you are safe," Minerva murmured contentedly. "It would be too hard to concentrate anyway, knowing the three of you were fighting."

"You don't love freely, but you love deeply," Albus uttered softly, his breath a whisper against her ear. "I do love you, Minerva."

She felt her heart swell and become whole again. "I love you too, Albus." He wrapped his arms more tightly around her, and together they watched the lake's small undulations, her last day at Hogwarts ending in the same peaceful manner with which it had begun.