CHAPTER SEVEN: McGonagall

CHAPTER SEVEN: McGonagall

Minerva McGonagall looked up from the stack of parchment on her desk with a sigh. She was unusually preoccupied lately and had little mind for the duties of a professor. Of course, while she was chastising herself for her inattention to the remaining pile of student essays she gave herself little credit for the large pile through which she had already worked. But this was typical for McGonagall. Minerva took most things quite seriously, including troubles and anxieties, of which there were more than enough these days.

The last school year had ended in tragedy... there was no other word for it. An imposter in their midst had delivered Harry Potter and, unintentionally, Cedric Diggory into the hands of the servant of Lord Voldemort. Cedric had been killed by Voldemort whose servant used Harry's blood as part of a spell to return Voldemort to his body. Voldemort had very nearly killed young Harry Potter as well.

As if all this weren't bad enough, the Minister of Magic refused to accept the truth of what had happened and so Dumbledore and those who were willing to accept the truth were on their own to try and fight back another dark night; a night like the one that had ended fifteen years before when Voldemort tried to murder a fifteen month-old Harry Potter and found his curse rebounded back onto himself.

In the midst of all this they were trying to educate young witches and wizards as normally as possible ...even though some of them were doubtless watching everything they did so that they might tell their Death Eater parents all that went on here. After Harry had escaped The Dark Lord, he had named several of the Death Eaters who had gathered at Voldemort's side and far too many were the mothers and fathers of Hogwarts students. This, she reasoned, was why Dumbledore didn't want the students to know that Isabel Clay was a muggle... or why she was at Hogwarts.

Truthfully, McGonagall was no longer sure why the young woman was here. They seemed no closer to discovering why she had been able to penetrate the barrier at King's Cross than they had a fortnight before. She was beginning to think it was just a fluke, that they would never figure it out.

McGonagall was concerned about Isabel. Some of those students whose parents were death eaters had an extreme dislike of muggles as well as a hunger to prove themselves to their parents... A year ago she would never have dreamed it possible that such thoughts would occur to her, but now she worried Isabel Clay would not be safe if it became known among the students that she was a muggle. The longer she was here, the greater the chance of that happening.

McGonagall rested her forehead in her hand and sighed yet again. If she let herself, she could chase worries for hours... Just when it seemed they had all they could handle, more worries presented themselves.

"Troubled, Minerva?"

McGonagall jumped and looked up to see the familiar form of Albus Dumbledore standing in the doorway.

"Albus! You gave me such a start."

"I can see that. Perhaps you'll accept my apologies over a cup of cocoa?"

A smile pulled at the corner of McGonagall's mouth. Albus and his late night cocoa excursions... some things did remain blessedly the same. Some things, however, did change. It would have been her normal inclination to politely decline pointing to the work yet to be done. But she did not. Instead, she rose.

"I would be delighted."

Shortly thereafter the two sat at the end of the Staff table in the deserted Great Hall.

"So," Dumbledore said gazing at McGonagall over the rim of his cup, "What is worrying you old friend?"

"What isn't these days?" McGonagall asked bleakly.

"Indeed, there is much-" Dumbledore's grave voice trailed off and he took a sip of cocoa. McGonagall did the same.

"Some days I don't think I can face it again." McGonagall confessed staring rather intently at the surface of her cocoa. She was surprised to feel Dumbledore's hand on her own.

"I understand all too well," he said. Then as she looked up and met his eye, "Still, I think we are less equipped to stand idle knowing the alternative we would face."

McGonagall nodded, blinking hard. She was seeing the face of Cedric, and of James and Lily and Frank and Muriel. Yet, even as she struggled to master her tears, the image of these faces seemed to steel her resolve. Dumbledore was right, much though she dreaded what was to come she was incapable of doing nothing at all and risking more innocent lives.

"Was that what was on your mind when I walked in or was it more specific?" Dumbledore asked.

McGonagall took a deep breath and felt much better for it.

"I was thinking about the situation with Isabel Clay."

"I welcome your thoughts on that, Minerva."

"I am, of course, concerned that the longer she remains here the greater the chance of the students learning she is a muggle, and these days that possibility makes me anxious." Dumbledore nodded but said nothing. McGonagall continued, "It doesn't seem that we are very much closer to discovering how she penetrated the barrier. I'm beginning to doubt that we will. Albus, it may be time to send her back."

"Minerva, I appreciate your concerns. Rest assured Isabel's safety is being looked after. As for the rest, I think it will become apparent in time. It would, therefore be unfortunate to send her away before that time arrives. Have faith, Minerva. Have faith."

******

"Well," the story said, "My author does like McGonagall and she needed to establish one or two things and do a little foreshadowing. Besides, both the author and I thought you deserved a little quiet interlude before we raise your blood pressure in the next chapter. Hee hee. OK, now write something in the review box or my author will get depressed again. Thanks"