Chapter Eleven

March 17th, 1945



The days passed in a flurry of activity. Minerva McGonagall was a proudly registered Animagus, and the transformations were growing easier for her by the day. It was almost fair to say that some of her friends were envious of her ability. Many of them had never known anyone who had completed the training as the Animagus ability was among the rarest ones in existence. Only the tongues, such as the one in which Tom Riddle could speak, were counted as more uncommon or unusual, though the Minerva's ability was considered as more valuable.

Professor Dumbledore, with the permission of the headmaster, had spent another two weeks in France after bring his classes back up to speed, which was an easy enough task, thanks to Minerva and her study group. He had just returned to the school late that evening following a particularly harrowing time on the continent. The Aurors with whom he was working, Claire and Thibault from the French Ministry and two off-duty English Aurors, and himself walked into an ambush by a few of Grindelwald's young and ardent supporters, who reveled in killing at their master's command whether he was mad or not.

They had taken heavy losses, three of the Aurors, including those from England, but for what it was worth Grindelwald's supporters were killed as well. There was no comfort in that fact; not even his French comrade could take any in it. They had been no older than sixteen. What was the expression Thibault had used? Cannon fodder? But what had happened their colleagues was worse. Claire, Albus realized, had heard the killing curse being cast and had instinctively stepped in front of him. She had saved his life. But no one could save the other Aurors. Thibault and Albus had escaped only because of luck and his friend's experience.

On his way back into the castle that evening, Dumbledore passed Daniel Vector in the corridor.

"Good evening, professor." said Daniel cheerfully.

"Send Minerva to my office, would you, son?" he questioned.

Vector could see the tiredness and worry in the eyes of his head of house. Both were more than a bit uncharacteristic of Dumbledore.

"Of course. I think she's studying at the moment. Something she's been at lately. Potions and alchemy, I believe." Daniel told him with a nod.

There was only the vaguest twinkle in his eyes at Daniel's words. Minerva was trying to follow in his footsteps, he suspected.

"Thank you, Mister Vector." said the professor.

Vector turned to go run the errand, but frowned and asked over his shoulder, "Is everything all right, professor?"

"No, it isn't." answered Dumbledore, who was walking away slowly in the direction of his office.


Daniel caught up to Minerva at the library where she could often be found after dinner whenever Professor Dumbledore was absent from Hogwarts. She was seated a well-secluded table near the rear of the library, apparently reading through several books at once in an attempt to 'do her own research' while also working on a potions' essay.

"Dumbledore is back, and he wants to see you, of course." said Vector. "In his office tonight." he added with a slight smirk.

Dumbledore was several days early. Minerva's eyes lit up as she began gathering up her things.

"Thank you very much, Daniel." she said.

"I make an excellent errand boy, you know."

"That you do." she agreed.

"I bet he has some interesting news if he wants to see you immediately and everything. Should we wait up for you?"

"Please don't. You are a prefect, Daniel, and shouldn't encourage such things." she said sternly.

"Breakfast, I suppose?" he asked with a sigh.

"Well, you had better tell Poppy then. She's been skipping breakfast lately." said Minerva with vague disapproval.

"If she's going into the mediwitch program at St. Mungo's, she has to get top marks ..." said Daniel.

"She's thirteen! She has plenty of time for good marks and a sensible breakfast!" Minerva argued quietly, following him out of the library.


Professor Dumbledore was already putting on a kettle for tea as Minerva walked into his office. Tonight he did not bother the house elves for it. He was preparing everything himself. He pressed an empty cup into her hands for later as she took her seat by the fire. Minerva frowned as she looked into his eyes. Albus seemed very weary and troubled. She touched his hand as she accepted the porcelain cup. He was slightly cold to the touch.

"Is there anything wrong, Albus?" she questioned quietly. For someone completely lacking skills in Divination, her intuition at that particular moment was very good.

The professor took a heavy seat in his chair, leaving his own cup on the tray. He leaned forward and looked at her carefully over his spectacles. He could hide very little from Miss McGonagall.

"Yes, Minerva, and I don't know quite how I should tell you this. I have had some amount of experience delivering bad news of late, but ... I count you among my closest friends, Minerva, and I hope you know that."

She set her teacup on a table by her chair and said, "Of course, Albus. Whatever it is, just tell me."

As Minerva watched him struggle to find the right words, she felt a sudden shiver of nervousness and concern. Albus was good with words and very straightforward. This was very uncharacteristic of him in so many ways.

"Your parents," he began, "were volunteering in France. I imagine they told you ..."

"No, they haven't mention it, but then they don't owl me very often." said Minerva, ducking her head slightly.

"They began some weeks ago, at my urging, I must admit."

"Something's happen to them." she said bluntly, a look of fear and horror coming into her eyes as she looked up again. Her heart was hammering.

"Yes, you see, Minerva, they were killed last night during an ambush. I'm sorry. I am terribly sorry." he told her, reaching to take her hand.

"There must be some sort of mistake. My parents are very good at what they do. They certainly wouldn't get themselves killed like that." she managed.

"I was ... I was there, Minerva. I am afraid that they are dead." he said gently.

He watched her blink away the tears, trying almost frantically to hold them back. She was so strong and so young. Albus gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

"If you want to cry, I won't think any less of you." he said softly.

Her mind was reeling, but the only thing Minerva could think about was how much she didn't want to break down in front of her transfigurations' professor. His words didn't seem to make any sense. She felt numb, almost as though she had been hit by a stray stunning spell, and nothing made sense at all. Not the way she felt, not what was going on around her. She was just supposed to be visiting her professor, her friend. The world wasn't supposed to turn upside down like this. And her ears seemed to be ringing, but she didn't know why. Minerva looked at the hand of her professor, the one clutching her own in a tight, but comfortable grip. Why was he doing that? Her eyes stung, and she touched the dampness at their rims with her fingertips. She was crying. She didn't want to cry. She clung to that thought.

Minerva raised her head and looked into his clear blue eyes and saw tears forming there. She frowned and struggled to swallow. There was a tightness in her throat that made it difficult. He was going to cry too? She wasn't sure if that made it better or worse. She struggled to her feet, and Albus rose with her, pulling her into his arms and holding her as she gasped for breath, still contending with her own emotions, still holding back most of her tears. He hushed her softly and gently stroked her long, dark hair.

"It will be all right, Minerva, in time." he assured her.

"It won't." she said. "It will never be all right again."

"I'm so sorry, Minerva." he whispered as her shoulders shook. "I would have done anything to spare ..."

"It's not your fault. It's his. Grindelwald's. He takes everything away from us. I asked you ..." she said, making a hiccuping sound. "I asked you how close to home the war could come. Now I guess I know."

"I remember." he said, releasing her and guiding her back into her seat. Brushing a few stray strands of hair from her damp face, Dumbledore said, "Let me pour you that cup of tea now."

Minerva nodded mutely, looking into the fire and periodically wiping her eyes as he busied himself with the teapot. The world had seemed mostly logical, mostly within the scope of her comprehension, just that afternoon. Now all of that was gone, replaced by the sound of her own heart in her ears and a numbing ache in the center of her chest.

Albus looked at her guiltily. What right had he had to involve her parents in this mess? He had never imagined that they would be killed so senselessly, so suddenly. The pain on her face cut him to the very quick. He shook his head and poured a few drops of dreamless sleep potion into her tea. It would calm her down and permit her to sleep that night. It would fix nothing and give her no solace, but at least she would sleep untroubled and perhaps that would help her as much as anything possibly could.

She accepted the tea gratefully and drank it quickly despite its hotness. It gave her mind something to concentrate on other than the spinning and the aching pain of loss. Albus took the cup back from her.

"Thank you." she whispered.

"I can arrange for you to miss classes this week. You need time to ..." he began to tell her.

"No, I don't need any time. My parents ... would expect me to push forward, to carry on, and not to go crying like some silly little girl."

"They would understand, Minerva." he stated emphatically.

She was beginning to feel sleepy as she looked up at him, searching his blue eyes for answers to all of her questions and knowing that she could trust him.

"What do you think is best, Albus? I will do whatever you think is best."

"Then I will make certain that you have the proper amount of time to grieve. When you are ready, you may return to your classes and so forth." he answered.

"Very well." she said with a soft yawn. "You gave me something in the tea." she accused.

"Yes." he admitted.

"Thank you. I suppose I need it." she said before closing her eyes.

Dumbledore watch her rather sadly as she fell asleep in her chair by the fire. The grief and pain would be with her for a long time, but Minerva was strong. He was very glad of that.

He sighed softly and lifted her from the chair. All of her peers would be in bed already. Part of him longed to take her to his rooms to watch over Minerva and take care of her himself. Her sleeping face, though still damp with tears, was very peaceful and quite lovely. It was for the latter reason the he instead returned her to her dormitory in Gryffindor Tower, carrying her through the dark and empty halls of the castle.

His own professors and his colleagues had fallen in love with many of their sixth and seventh year students, though he doubted that it was always love that guided the actions of some, but it had never happened to him, at least not before Minerva McGonagall came along. And he had no idea what to do about it because he valued her as a friend above anything and everything else. He would do nothing and would say nothing to endanger that, especially not during her time of grief and mourning.

He dared not entertain the thought that she too might harbor such feelings. It would have been almost impossible.

"I am old and she is young, but what does that really mean for us?" he thought absently, tucking her into bed.

Albus sighed softly as he leaned down and kissed her forehead before returning to his office. There was still much to be done, much to be considered, though thoughts of Minerva were never far from his mind.

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A/N: I don't know if I handled that in the best possible way. But I suppose the no-crying thing needs an explanation: being raised by Aurors does not a weepy girl make. Her parents (in my opinion) would have done their best to raise her to be very strong and all that that implies. But then Minerva is only human too.


Aislin: I'm glad you liked that part. Thanks for the very specific review!

MK: Thank you for the review!

Whisper: Yes, actually I do know where this is going. It is a companion piece to another fic that I wrote ... Okay, but, technically that story is going to have a sequel, so I know where this part of the story is going (I have ... a map!), but I don't know how absolutely everything will end up. I love Hermione/Snape and Ginny/Remus (oh, yeah, huge potential problems there). I definitely appreciate your concerns. I have read a few stories here and there that have just made me go, 'Um, no ... not in million years' *clicks back button*. This chapter might ease of your immediate concerns. Minerva does seem rather mature for her age. I would attribute that to her partentage (see above A/N) and to a slightly lesser degree, Dumbledore's influence. As for her perceptions, her Animagus form is a cat for a reason. Okay, that's a bit lame. I write ahead instead of posting immediately (I change my mind too much to post things that are entirely WIPs and it causes writer's block). Thank you very much for reviewing!

Serenity Raye: I may go back and edit the transformation later or something. I wasn't all that happy with it either. Anyway, the reason the talked about the war was because he had gone looking for her, and not vice versa. I admit that could be a bit off too. I'm glad you pointed that out. I think Minerva's schoolmates will be showing up some, but not a whole lot. Thanks for the review!

stoneygem: Ah, someone took a peek at my bio. Cool. I enjoy a lot of Peter Maffay's music. The some of songs from the "Begegnung" album are rather interesting, and "So Bist Du", "Zwei in einem Boot", and "Wölfe sterben niemals aus" are really neat. I also like "Es war Sommer", but I think I read too much into it (if only my German were better!). Unfortunately, I don't know which songs are/were popular, so I might be naming really weird stuff. Thanks for reviewing!

Child-of-the-Dawn: A story about young Minerva would not be complete with the transformation. Thanks for the review!