A/N: Yay! The Plot Thickens. And Darkens. Oooohh…..
A/N: Time to throw in a timely threat to Harry Potter's life to shake up the MM/SS *relationship*…
Chapter Seven: 1995
September first seemed to come sooner ever year, Minerva reflected. Tonight the students would arrive on the Hogwarts Express, ready to begin a new school year; tomorrow classes would begin in earnest.
Today the longest blackout of the summer so far was winding into its fifth day.
The day was progressing as normal, and the noon hour found Minerva seated between Albus and Severus at the High Table of the Great Hall. The room had the scrubbed-clean smell it always had right before the start of term. Minerva imagined she could hear the house elves below in the kitchens scurrying about with the preparations for the beginning-of-term feast.
Albus kept up a steady flow of conversation around the table, even if it was a bit strained. And not just in Minerva and Severus' corner, though they contributed (or maybe, Minerva observed, absorbed and trapped) their fair share. No, it was Albus who was really setting everyone on edge. Ever cheerful, his voice overdid it today. Ever twinkling, today his eyes took on an almost feverish shine. Everyone noticed to varying degrees. No one commented.
Over a glass of pumpkin juice, and after a particularly forced joke, Minerva chanced a glance at Severus. For confirmation, she told herself. He caught her eye and gazed back seriously.
Then Albus was asking her if she did believe the summers were over with earlier each year, and she was drawn into the conversation for a few minutes, and when she looked back at Severus, he was swirling his drink around in its glass again. Amazing: the one time she wanted personal interaction with him.
Dumbledore took the chance, during a moment of sustained conversation between Hagrid and Professor Sprout, to lean slightly towards Minerva. Turning his head, he said in a low voice,
"Professors—I would like to meet with you privately in my office."
Minerva nodded, glanced at Severus (looking up from his glass), and turned back to her food. This couldn't be good, and these days, "not good" meant
Bee-beep!
Bee-beep!
Bee-beep!
Minerva started at the sudden noise, and saw most of the faculty join her. Even Albus looked over with barely-masked anxiety as Severus examined the digital watch on his wrist. After pushing various buttons, he finally succeeded in turning off the alarm.
—yes, this was a good example of "not good"…blackout on the first day of school. Just in time for the students.
Minerva's hand clenched around her glass. Far was she from the uncontrolled magic of her childhood—a shattered glass here, a sudden surge burning out a lightbulb there—but in that instant her control was severely tested. This was what had Albus worried. This was what he wanted to talk about. She should have seen it before, of course.
But she'd been too wrapped up in…
Most of the faculty lingered after lunch was over. Lesson plans were finished, so there was nothing much to do. Hagrid left on the hurried justification of checking out the carriages for the students' arrival. He'd known, of course. Perhaps Dumbledore had told him, but most likely not: Hagrid counted Harry Potter almost as his own son, and the half-giant was leaving nothing to chance.
If Lord Voldemort was after anything or anyone, it was Harry Potter.
When Albus had finally excused himself, Severus cleared his throat and gave Minerva a significant look. Minerva had a half-crazed urge to Apparate directly to Albus' office, but that would have been silly. And she didn't know if Flitwick, sitting on the opposite side of the table and kicking his feet nervously, could have taken any more stress without self-disintegrating. Come to think of it, that was a serviceable self-diagnosis as well.
Severus would be proud. Had he been trained in psychology, of course.
Minerva shook her head and took one last sip of pumpkin juice. Then, as if on cue, she and Severus both stood, pushed back from the table, and walked the length of the Great Hall between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables to the huge doorway. Minerva couldn't help but think that the whole castle seemed too quiet.
"Professor Dumbledore has learned something new."
Minerva looked up at Severus sharply. "What is it?"
He shook his head slightly, still looking straight ahead.
"I don't know. But it looks as if he has learned something new."
Slight pause. Minerva was acutely aware of the dull thuds of their footsteps echoed on the stone walls. The echoes should have been louder. Or maybe it was just the fresh smell of the castle air that made her feel that the muffled noises should have rung truer.
"It is—"
Minerva looked back at Severus.
"It is—quite—convenient that a 'blackout'—and the longest of the summer, even—should occur just in time for the students' arrival." He glanced back down at her. "I see you've come to the same thought." A hint of abashed pride there, which she wondered at.
"I had," she said after a pause, then looked back ahead and continued toward Albus' office at a stronger pace.
Severus let her pull a few feet ahead, which annoyed her for some reason. It wasn't a very long walk to the large gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Albus' tower stairwell. Soon they were standing outside and giving the password ("peanut brittle"). The door opened, expelling an unusually grim-looking Sir Nicholas de Mimsey Porpington and a most usually grim-looking Bloody Baron. Severus and Minerva nodded politely to the ghosts, who gave imperceptible head-bobs before continuing through the professors to the Entrance Hall. Severus stepped forward onto the revolving staircase, and Minerva, shaking off the chill, joined him.
Albus was worried, but calm, as he greeted them at his office door.
"Minerva. Severus. Please come in." Minerva followed the younger professor through the doorway, anxiety increasing. Albus never used her first name.
"First off," Albus said, moving around the other side of his desk, "I must admit a very large mistake. I told Fudge confidentially about the problems Hogwarts has been experiencing." He looked between the two of them as Severus drew in a loud breath.
"I'm afraid he is doubtful of whether the school should remain open."
Minerva looked up sharply. "That's ridiculous. Last time You—Voldemort came to power, Hogwarts was one of our only sanctuaries."
Severus cleared his throat. "But what if it is no longer sanctuary?"
Albus nodded. "That is a real threat. But I firmly believe that Hogwarts is instrumental in any resistance effort. However," he pursed his lips underneath his beard and moustache, "we cannot ignore our responsibility to keep our students safe. I'm sure you have all noticed the peculiar coincidence of a very long blackout with the first night of the school year."
"Do you think Voldemort is planning an attack of some sort?" Severus said without flinching.
Albus looked at Severus significantly. "We have received no intelligence suggesting that. However, we must assume the worst to keep our students safe. Though personally, I have doubts as to whether Voldemort would ever set up an attack this obvious." He sighed, and looked suddenly very old.
"Several…students…of course, will need close watching."
"You mean Potter," said Minerva. Albus nodded.
"Do you believe Voldemort could have planned this entire cycle of blackouts to catch Potter unguarded?" Severus asked, skepticism barely masked.
"No," said Albus, giving him a rare warning look. "But this is definitely an opportunity for him to strike. And we must never forget that, to all appearances, Voldemort spent all of last school year trying to lure Harry into a trap."
"That was for material gain," Minerva pointed out. "From what you've told us, Voldemort's power would not be as great without Harry's—without his blood."
"There was also the revenge factor," said Severus.
Albus nodded. "And that is why we must keep all eyes peeled. I will see you two at the feast—until then, thank you for your vigilance."
They all stood. Minerva and Severus filed out of the office, Minerva feeling remarkably like a schoolgirl again—so much so that she observed the old tradition of not speaking until back in the castle proper and away from the Headmaster's tower.
"Hagrid will be taking the first-years across the lake tonight—he can't watch the carriages," she began, looking at Severus. "The carriages are the one weak spot in our evening—no one around to supervise. I suppose I could see to that."
Severus shook his head. "Where would you stand so that you could see all of the carriages all of the time? How would you get to one if it came under attack? We need a better plan."
"Well, we certainly can't have a teacher in every carriage—we don't have the numbers for that."
"We might only need a teacher in Potter's carriage."
"Harry would see right through that, of course—or if not him, Hermione would. He'd be afraid. But it would probably be in his best interests…"
"And who shall volunteer for such a job?" Severus asked rhetorically.
"Not you—those children would rather spend the night in Hogsmeade than take a carriage to the school with you." She paused to look up at his face, which was impassive. "No offense."
"Very little taken. That is an accurate observation. We can assume the rest of the faculty knows of the danger to the school already—but we may be the only ones who know to keep Potter in close sight." He looked back at Minerva. "Quite a strange way to take on the situation, don't you think?"
"It's only for tonight," she said, annoyed at his tone. "Albus knows what he's doing. Tonight is the beginning of the school year—and we're jumpy enough. He'll tell them after the feast so the students won't notice the tension."
"Oh, he'll tell the students. He always does."
"Not when Black was around."
"Black"—the slight snarl didn't escape Minerva—"was in all the papers, even the Muggle-born students knew he was loose and dangerous. Dumbledore told them about the Dementors, after all."
"The Dementors were a matter of student safety. They were prone to attack—Godric's sword, they nearly killed Harry and Hermione along with Black!"
"I believe they were just about to kiss Potter when I woke up."
"Oh yes—you were there too."
"Oh yes, I can assure you, I was."
An uncomfortable silence ensued as they walked on. Minerva wasn't quite sure why they were continuing—they didn't really have any place to be at the moment. She stopped.
"Professor?" Severus, stopping short a few steps in front of her, looked back in mild surprise.
"Where are we going?" she asked, looking around. They had unconsciously started down toward the dungeons in the lower levels of the castle. He looked around, then back at her.
"Nowhere, I fear."
Minerva blinked.
"Well, we'd better get back on the carriage problem," she said briskly, turning around and motioning him to follow her back up to the Entrance Hall. They went, after a brief conferral, across the grounds to Hagrid's hut. The half-giant opened the door with a short pause after they knocked.
"Er—hello, professors. McGonagall, Snape."
Minerva smiled. "We'd just like to know more about the carriages for tonight, Hagrid—just…to know." Hagrid's face deflated into a worried look.
"Come in," he grunted, nearly inaudible. With a short glance at Severus, Minerva obeyed. She found herself in a small, homely-looking one-room cabin—surprisingly similar to the kitchen in an old country cottage she'd lived in as a girl. Bright fireplace (which made the place a bit too hot for early September), rough wooden table, strings of onions and other vegetables hanging from the ceilings. A soft whining sound from the large arm-chair to her left attested to the presence of Fang, Hagrid's legendary boarhound.
Severus spoke from her right, startling her. "I'm sure you know that with the blackout, we must be extra careful in seeing to the safety of the students. We just need to know if there's any—security—measure that can be applied to the carriages, as they are the only place the students will be unsupervised."
"Er—no, nothin' I know of," Hagrid said, pouring himself a large cup of a rather murky liquid from off the fire that Minerva hoped was tea. "I—I don' think we have the people to ride all in the carriages, an' the route's so long—we'd really need people all along it."
"Do you think—" Minerva began.
"It's Harry, ain't it?" Hagrid interrupted suddenly. "Dumbledore thinks You-Know-Who's goin' after Harry, don't he?"
"That is the fear," Minerva said gravely. "But don't worry, Hagrid," she added, seeing his face. "I'll be riding to the castle with Harry and his friends."
Hagrid nodded mutely, then tipped back his cup and drank deeply. Minerva, hearing a small choking sound, turned around to find Fang slobbering happily on Severus' robes and practically laying on top of the potion master's feet. Biting back amusement, she motioned for them to leave.
"This means you need to be down at the Hogsmeade station when the Hogwarts Express arrives," Severus said as they strode back up to the castle. He looked over at her. "You can Apparate. I suppose you should tell Potter what's in for him on the carriage ride, unless you think it will upset him too greatly."
They walked in silence for a few moments.
"He's not James, you know," Minerva blurted all of a sudden.
"What do you mean?" Severus' voice was terse and took her aback. He'd never spoken to her this way before.
"I mean, the way you treat him—you don't coddle your students and I have no qualms with that, but you absolutely hate—"
"I believe that is my own business," Severus said sharply, cutting her off in mid-tirade. He walked on for a few seconds. "Though I have to ask why you're suddenly upset now about it. Potter has attended this school going on five years."
"All right, forget it," said Minerva.
The sky was a brilliant sapphire blue, as September skies often are, as they walked back to the school. The castle of Hogwarts stood out against the sky like an ancient monolith, its gray stone both familiar and
"What do you think will happen tonight?"
Minerva looked at him and saw, to her surprise, a hint of something Severus had never shown before: uncertainty.
"You know my guess is as good as yours," said Minerva.
"You lived through the rise of Grindelwald, didn't you?"
"I did, yes," she said. "And we both lived during the first rise of—"
"Voldemort."
She tried not to flinch.
"I was wondering—what it would be like to be in school during such an event."
"You assume I was school-age during Grindelwald's reign, Severus?"
"I assume you weren't yet grown—" he cut off, looking at her strangely. "I've heard Professor Dumbledore speak with you about it before," he said. "It was during your fourth through seventh years."
"It was indeed," Minerva replied, turning away and looking toward the castle so he couldn't see the flush in her face.
"Well?"
"Yes?"
"What was it like?"
She paused. "I remember…"
TomRiddleDumbledoreHogsmeaderaidLondonTomSlytherinsMonsterGrindelwaldattacksSlytherinschismSortingHatHesaSlytherinyoucan'tPaulTomWhy?
She cleared her throat. "I remember it was halfway through my fourth year that we first began hearing his name." She drew her robes more tightly around her in the breeze, and continued.
"At first it didn't mean anything to us—Grindelwald. Who was Grindelwald? He was working around London, and nothing could hurt Hogwarts. Then a girl—she was in Hufflepuff, I don't remember her name—then her family were killed. And then—it was serious. We were all afraid. It was like some plague. It spread. I was in Gryffindor, of course, and Grindelwald had been in Slytherin—the Slytherins were all reviled, of course."
Small snort. "Of course."
She continued. "That summer it got worse. You've read the history books—the summer of '42." She paused again. "Does the school year of '42 through '43 ring a bell?"
His forehead creased in a frown. "I'm afraid not."
She smiled ruefully. "That was the first opening of the Chamber of Secrets."
He stared at her.
"Do you want to know about it?"
He looked as if he were about to shake his head yes, but he stopped.
"Charles Abbot. Maria Montanez. Andrew Lee. Myrtle—"
"Stop."
"The monster has been killed," she said hurriedly.
"Let's go back to the castle," he said. They turned and began walking at a quicker pace.
The castle of Hogwarts stood out against the sky like an ancient monolith, its gray stone both familiar and ominous.