Harry Potter and the Enchanted Hourglass
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone. But though you're still with me, I've been alone all along." Evanescence, "My Immortal"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A breezy Tuesday night in February found the faculty and students of Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry chattering happily over their evening meal. As a brilliant blue, purple and pink sunset fell, some of the students and faculty began to finish their meals and leave the hall. Professor Dumbledore had been having a particularly intense conversation with Professor McGonagall throughout the meal, their heads nearly touching as they spoke. Harry Potter and his friends, watching from below, couldn't help but notice that the professors occasionally smiled as they spoke, so they deduced that the conversation couldn't be all that serious. The look of undisguised admiration in Dumbledore's eyes made Harry smile. He was glad that his head of house had someone who cared for her so deeply. He had a feeling that deep beneath that stern exterior was a deeply passionate woman who needed, and appreciated his affection.
As Professor McGonagall finished her dinner, Dumbledore took her hand in both of his and tenderly kissed it, trying hard not to break eye contact in the motion. McGonagall blushed, smiled, and lightly stroked his face before rising from her place to leave the table.
Professor McGonagall made it as far as the edge of the Gryffindor's table before she stopped and covered her forehead with one hand as if stricken with a sudden headache. She reached for the table to steady herself and the students at the end of the table watched as their fearless leader turned pale and fainted, her wide blue eyes falling shut as she fell. Her hat tumbled off her head when she fell, and several of the professors and students leapt to her aid.
Professor Dumbledore lifted her into his arms and held her as Madam Pomfrey dropped down beside them to help.
"Minerva!" Dumbledore called, gently shaking her. Madam Pomfrey felt gingerly for the witch's pulse and sat back, hands over her mouth in shock. Her eyes welled with tears and her fair skin turned even more pale. Professor Dumbledore looked at her desperately.
"What is it, Madam Pomfrey?" he asked. She almost couldn't bring herself to say it.
"I'm so sorry, headmaster!"
Madam Pomfrey's tone was all that was needed. Many of the other professors fell silent, and the students stopped pushing to see what was wrong. Harry and his classmates held their breath.
Professor Dumbledore looked at Madam Pomfrey as if she had just sentenced him to death. He looked frantically at her and then at Professor McGonagall, now lying limp in his arms. He reached up and touched her face, once again begging her to awaken. No good. Would nothing bring her back?
Severus Snape came forward next, kneeling slowly beside the horrified headmaster, resting a hand over the hand that Dumbledore had wrapped around McGonagall's shoulders. Snape's chestnut eyes shining with tears.
"Headmaster…Albus…she's……." he couldn't seem to get the words out. Tears slipped silently from the corners of his eyes and down his nose as he began to cry, squeezing Professor McGonagall's shoulder and bending over her head. Madam Pomfrey had produced her handkerchief and begun to cry as well. Professor Sprout came up behind Pomfrey and rested her hands on the nurse's shoulders, unable to stifle tears of her own.
Poor Professor Dumbledore finally gave in to the tears. He buried his head in the robes of his deputy headmistress and softly began to sob. His shoulders, which so often held the weight of the world, shook in desolate grief. The professors gathered close to comfort one another as the students sat back in shock. Hermione buried her face in her hands and turned to cry into Harry's shoulder. He held her, unable to see through his glasses for tears of his own. The abruptness with which this had all happened had brought the entire school to its knees. Silence shrouded the room as Dumbledore sobbed, crying out for McGonagall to awaken.
"No! Minerva, please…please! Don't leave me, Minerva, please! Come back! Oh, mercy, please come back! I…I need my Scottish Rose beside me!" he wept. The students and most of the faculty had never heard this pet name, but the majority were not surprised. It was no secret the Dumbledore fancied his lovely, emerald-clad deputy.
An eternity seemed to pass before the faculty realized that nearly the whole body of students was still frozen in time beside them, and began to send them back to the dormitories. When Snape, Pomfrey and Dumbledore looked up from their lifeless comrade, Madam Hooch gasped in shock. Minerva's body seemed to have decayed as though she had been in her grave twenty years. A handful of Minerva's hair brushed off in Snape's open hand, and her robes had begun to disintegrate. Madam Pomfrey screamed, Professor Snape's heart skipped a beat, and Professor Flitwick fainted. What the devil was going on? Harry and his friends caught sight of this and Hermione screamed along with them as Harry and Ron pushed her out the door. The boys had to guide Hermione back to the common room, because she wouldn't take her hands away from her eyes as she shrieked and cried.
By the time all was said and done that night, and the rate of decay seemed to have slowed to normal, Madam Pomfrey deduced that Professor McGonagall's remains had decayed about a total of sixty years.
Back in his dungeon chambers, Professor Snape stood over the basin in his bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. His skin was paler than it usually was, and his hands continued to shake. He tried splashing water on his face to calm himself but it didn't work. His mind was spinning and his heart still pounded. Whether from grief or fear he wasn't sure, but seconds later, he was kneeling over the toilet, vomiting violently from the image burned into his eyes of his favorite colleague becoming a corpse of more than half a century before his eyes. The sensation of her hair coming off in his hand was embedded in his brain. He would never forget. He wretched again, unable to control the reaction. His breath heaved in his chest as he knelt there, unable to move.
A cool, long pair of hands came to rest upon him, one over his forehead and the other on his shoulder. He recognized this touch.
"There, there, now, Severus. It's all over now," said a cool, soothing voice. Severus relaxed and curled up into the lap of the woman kneeling beside him. She took a cool cloth from beside the basin and touched his face with it. Gently wiping the sweat and tears from his pallid countenance. The woman was tall, and nearly as pale as he with icy blue eyes and long, straight raven hair. She too dressed in black and had grown up a Slytherin. Her name was Marciana, and she was Snape's only love and fiancé. Gently, she wrapped her arms around him and kissed his head. Even in her silence he could derive a measure of comfort and once again, the potions master began to cry. Marciana rested her head on Severus' shoulder. She knew that there was little she could do for him, so she resigned herself to her silent vigil by his side on the bathroom floor.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Professor Dumbledore was dumbstruck. He wandered back to his quarters when all was said and done and sat feebly at his desk, unsure what to think. What manner of black magic could have done this? It was like nothing he had ever seen. It was as if time had suddenly swallowed her up before him. As if Father Time had slipped up and forgotten to take her all those years ago and was just now catching up to her. Slowly, Dumbledore removed his hat and rested his head down on his trembling hands. What was he to do without her?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Madam Pomfrey drew the curtains around the remains of her dear friend and slowly walked to her quarters in the rear of the infirmary. She reached her bed and collapsed to her knees, throwing herself across the rich, patchwork quilt and once again weeping; mourning the loss of one of her oldest friends. Everything had happened so quickly that night that it had defied everything in her medical training. She had never seen anything like it. It was as if Minerva had been dead sixty one years!
The other professors mourned that night as well as the students. Each as shocked as the next. What could have caused Professor McGonagall's sudden death?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The next day, Harry was trying hard to get back to some semblance of reality. He was in the library with Ron and Hermione, researching information for their History of Magic papers. Harry had chosen to look into the back issues of the Daily Prophet as a source as Hermione scanned the shelves for more. As Harry scanned the headlines and flipped, he tried to push the image of his dead Transfiguration professor out of his mind. He had gone back over half a century when a curious headline met his emerald scrutiny.
HOGWART'S STUDENT MURDERED, KILLER AT LARGE
Thinking that he had stumbled across Moaning Myrtle's death, he tentatively skipped it, but then he realized something very important: he had already passed Myrtle's date of death, 1942. This paper was dated 1937. Who else had died? Standing over the drawer, Harry skimmed the article for a name. What he saw sickened him almost as much as the previous night. Some poor fifth year girl, beaten and then horribly abused, had been thrown into the lake near the school. The mer-people had discovered her and brought her to the surface. Harry gently pulled this issue from the drawer and took it to the table where he and Ron and Hermione had been studying. Harry discovered the name of the poor, unfortunate young woman and nearly fainted.
"What's wrong, Harry?" asked Hermione, her quill stopped mid-sentence.
"What are you reading?" asked Ron. Harry was speechless. Ron and Hermione launched themselves over his shoulder to read the article. Ron sat back, his blue eyes wide in shock and Hermione covered her mouth with one hand to avoid the gasp that was fighting to issue from her mouth.
"Minerva McGonagall, 14, a fifth year student at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was brutally murdered this week by an unknown perpetrator. Hogwart's administration as well as Ministry officials are stumped. Safety protocols at Hogwart's are said to be the best in the world, and nothing in the evidence suggests that there was a breach. The Ministry is currently investigating the circumstances of this case. Family members of the young McGonagall declined interview and comment."
"We need to tell Professor Dumbledore about this," said Harry.
"Do we really want to be the ones to drudge up his misery again?" Ron said.
"You mean still," said Hermione, "He hasn't come out of his office all day."
"But he has to know that this happened! Someone went back in time and murdered Professor McGonagall while she was still young!" said Harry.
"But why? Who would want Professor McGonagall dead?" asked Hermione.
"That's what we have to find out," said Harry.
"I don't know if we should," murmured Hermione, looking down at her hands as a tear coursed down over her cheek. Harry lifted her chin with his finger.
"Hermione," he said gently, "We need to figure out what happened so that we can lay Professor McGonagall to rest."
"I know, Harry, but I just don't know if I can handle watching her die again," Hermione replied. Harry took her into his arms and hugged her as she cried again.
"Wait a minute," said Ron, "What if we can save her?" Harry and Hermione looked up from their embrace.
"What do you mean?" asked Hermione, drying her eyes.
"How did you make your schedule work during our third year? You used the time turner. What if we could do the same thing? We could use the time turner to go back in time and save Professor McGonagall!" said Ron. It was crazy. Just crazy enough to work.
Warily, Harry, Ron and Hermione took the newspaper with them and walked to the alcove that lead to Professor Dumbledore's office. The stood there before the gargoyle, unsure of what to say.
"Do you remember the password?" asked Hermione.
"I think so," said Harry.
"You *think* so?" said Ron.
"Lemon drop," said Harry. There was a deep rumbling and the gargoyle began to turn and move up, revealing the staircase that lead to Professor Dumbledore's office. The kids took one more look at one another and then mounted the stairs, which terminated at a huge wooden door. Harry knocked but no one answered. Slowly, Harry opened the door and peered inside. Professor Dumbledore was seated at his desk. There was something in his hands that Harry couldn't see, but it seemed to absorb all of his concentration. His eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, as if he had not slept and had continued to mourn through the night.
The kids came forward slowly, as though hoping not to disrupt him.
"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry ventured as they neared his desk.
"When do I wake up?" Dumbledore replied. The kids exchanged puzzled looks.
"What do you mean, professor," asked Hermione gently.
"I'm still waiting for all of this to be just a terrible dream. Waiting to wake up tomorrow and there she'll be, lying beside me there, the morning sunlight dancing on her skin and lighting a halo of fire on her hair. I'll roll over and feel her breathing and hear her heart beating and shake my head for thinking that such a thing could ever happen to her as long as I am there," Dumbledore said. Hermione was crying again. She reached out and rested a hand on Professor Dumbledore's arm. He looked up in surprise.
"Oh, Hermione…I'm so sorry, my dear," he murmured, taking her into a warm hug, "I'm sure that you didn't come here to listen to an old man ramble."
"We found this in the library, Professor," said Harry, showing him the copy of the paper. He skimmed the headline article and said, "This isn't possible. She would have been your age!"
"We know. We think that someone went back in time and killed Professor McGonagall," Harry said.
"Is there a way that we can go back, Professor? There's a chance that we could save Professor McGonagall," said Ron.
"It would be dangerous," said Professor Dumbledore.
"We've been through worse," said Harry.
"We know that the time turner can go back hours, but is there a way for us to go back decades?" asked Hermione. Slowly, Professor Dumbledore rose from his chair and went to the cabinet on the west wall.
"Something tells me I shouldn't be doing this," said Professor Dumbledore, "but if there's any chance that you could succeed, we must try. You have to make contact with me in the past. I would have been a relatively new professor at that time. I was but 96 years old. You must be careful! I will send you back approximately a month before this happened. You must return as soon as possible after you complete your mission or the fabric of time will be stretched too far and you may not be able to get back." He looked gravely at Harry, Ron and Hermione. In his hands, Dumbledore held a large hourglass framed by elaborately hewn holly wood stained a dark cherry color.
"This hourglass is an exaggerated version of the time turner," Dumbledore said, "Instead of counting back hours, it counts back months and years. It was given to me when I began teaching at Hogwart's." The kids stood in awe. Hermione stepped forward.
"Show us how it works, Professor, time isn't on our side."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Hours later, the three were ready to go. Ron was about to join Harry and Hermione across the room when he thought of something very important.
"Professor, how will we know what she looks like?" Ron asked. Professor Dumbledore flipped through a dusty album and pulled a picture out, handing it to Ron. The girl in the picture smiled radiantly. She had long dark hair and wide blue eyes that shined in the sunlight. She had a visible combination of determination and gentleness that seemed to draw everything to her protection. Ron was stunned.
"Wow…" he murmured, "Is this really her? She was bloody beautiful!" Dumbledore rested his hand on Ron's shoulder as Harry and Hermione joined them. Harry whistled softly and Hermione's gasp was barely audible.
"She must have been the most beautiful girl in her class!" Hermione said softly. Dumbledore smiled, fighting back remembering tears. Ron carefully took the picture and tucked it into his robes. They were ready. With precisely six full revolutions plus one tenth of one, Hermione held the hourglass perfectly still as a light began to stream from it, pulsating much like a strobe light before all three kids felt a jerk that nearly knocked the wind out of them as the enchanted hourglass did it's job.
When the floaters dissipated from their eyes, a very different Hogwart's met their eyes. The students' faces and hairstyles were so different that the three felt like they had come from another dimension. Harry felt as though he had gone from a color television to an old style black and white one.
"Well, the castle couldn't have changed any, would it? Do you think Professor Dumbledore's room is the one Professor McGonagall would have been in back in our time?" said Hermione.
"We have to start somewhere," said Ron, taking off down the hall, walking, but with an urgency that denoted the importance of their mission. Hermione carefully stowed the hourglass in her pack as they walked. They came to the place that in their time was Professor McGonagall's quarters and beside the door was a neat wooden plaque that read "Professor Dumbledore" in even black lettering. Harry smiled.
"Good going, Hermione," Harry said. Knocking at the door, the two waited with pounding hearts for an answer.
"Come in!" said a voice. When they opened the door, a younger, bookish looking wizard with half-moon spectacles and bright blue eyes had come to the door. He had auburn hair that was gathering some gray at the edges and a short, full beard with a smile that assured them that they had indeed found the right man.
"Professor Dumbledore, sir?" said Harry, timidly.
"Fifth years should be in Potions class right now," said the professor.
"We really need to speak with you professor," said Ron.
"Wait a moment, I don't recognize you," said Dumbledore.
"Perhaps you should sit down, Professor," said Hermione. Warily, Dumbledore backed away from the door and allowed them in. They murmured their thanks and entered, sitting down in the chairs in Dumbledore's study and looked around.
"So strange," said Harry, "Years from now this will be Professor McGonagall's study."
"Professor McGonagall? But, Minerva is only a fifth year student!" said Dumbledore. The trio took a collective breath and began to explain what was going to happen. They avoided telling Dumbledore more than he needed to know. This would change the future too much, and they had been warned by the future Dumbledore not to do this. They told him what time they had come from and what had happened in the Great Hall. They told him about the newspaper article and that his future self sent them back in time to rescue Professor McGonagall. Professor Dumbledore looked at the three fifteen year olds sitting before him and then glanced to his book case where the antique hourglass sat. He knew that it had time properties, and had felt it to be a gift too powerful for a wizard his age, but Armando Dippet had felt that the world would one day come to expect great things from Albus Dumbledore and felt that in order to do great things, that a wizard needed powerful tools of his craft.
Looking back to the students, he arranged for them to stay in guest rooms, telling Headmaster Dippet that they were his young nephews and niece, traveling to see him from far away.
"How lovely!" said Headmaster Dippet, patting Harry on the head and kissing Hermione's hand, "You'll make them feel at home, won't you Albus?" Dumbledore smiled nervously, "Of course, headmaster."
For the rest of the day, Hermione spent time in the library, researching issues of the Daily Prophet and any other book on the evil wizards that she could get her hands on. There simply had to be some clue as to who was out to get young Minerva McGonagall. Harry joined her later, after a tentative search of the castle and grounds.
"Find anything?" Harry asked, sitting down beside her.
"We're in 1937, Harry. The only dark wizard of this time period would have been Grindelwald and Professor Dumbledore won't defeat him for another decade yet!" said Hermione.
"Let's hope that Ron has more luck finding Professor McGonagall," said Harry.
"Minerva," Hermione corrected. They couldn't very well call her Professor when she's only a fifth year!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Ron waited patiently outside the transfiguration classroom for class to be dismissed. When the door swung open and the students came forth, one student caught his attention. She pushed through the other students and stomped down the corridor. Ron had to jog to keep up with her. She was about as tall as he was and as gangly. She had midnight hair that fell nearly to her waist and when she whirled to face Ron, he could see fire in her Scottish blue eyes and a light dusting of freckles over her nose and cheeks.
"What is it now?" she growled, "Have ya come to pick fun of me too? Go on, then, say what you come to say! Make fun of the Scot, just like all the rest!" Ron almost had to take a step back. The thick Scottish brogue in her voice was alien to him, but to see her in person had been more than he was ready for. She was beautiful! How could any civilized person make fun of her?
"Are ya goin' ta stand there like a catfish with your mouth open or are ya goin' ta say somethin'?" She cried out again.
"I'm new around here," Ron finally spit out. Minerva harumfed.
"Sure ya are. You'll know soon enough bout what fun is it to play 'kick the banshee'!" she said, starting to cry. Ron moved closer to her.
"Where didja say ya come from?" asked Minerva as Ron offered his handkerchief.
"London. Professor Dumbledore's my uncle," Ron replied. She seemed to believe him.
"For the record, I don't think you're anything to make fun of. As a matter of fact I…" Ron froze in mid sentence as he looked into her shiny blue eyes.
"Yes?"
"I think you're beautiful, Minerva," Ron choked out, shyly staring at the floor.
"Ya 'ardly know me and ya can say somethin' like that?" she said.
"Professor Dumbledore described you once. I've always wanted to meet you since then," Ron lied. It was going to be difficult not to tell her that he knew what she'd look like in sixty years but at that moment, he didn't care. He just wanted to be in that space and time with her, just the two of them. He walked Minerva back to her common room and promised to see her in the Great Hall. He bounded back to the library happier than he had been all week.
"Did you find her?" asked Harry.
"Yes," Ron replied, "and she's prettier than her picture. Can you believe that people pick on her?"
"Poor thing," Hermione sighed, "Well, come on, it's dinner time, and 'Uncle Albus' will be waiting for us." Obediently, the boys followed, and they ate their first meal in the Great Hall as it looked in 1937. It wasn't all that different truth be told, but certain touches about it made it look as foreign to them as the rest of the school had. Decorations that had adorned the walls in their time were absent, the Headmaster's chair was differently constructed, and the owls that circulated the mail were unfamiliar to them. It was going to take some getting used to. Harry looked at the owls and for the first time since Professor McGonagall had died, he missed Hedwig.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Back in 1995, Professor Dumbledore flipped slowly through the scrapbook album that he had taken Minerva's picture from. Pictures of him, his coworkers, friends and students smiled back at him, as well as newspaper clippings and even recipes. Albus loved to cook, but he didn't do it as much as he used to. With house elves to help him now, he relegated his cooking to special occasions. On one page, he came across the recipe for a pumpkin pie that he had baked last year for Minerva's birthday. He knew it was her favorite. He had decorated the pie with a ring of candles and a large sugar rose in the middle. She had loved it, as the pictures from the party clearly showed, and Albus' hands shook as he forced himself to turn the page away from the picture of Minerva lightly kissing his cheek in thanks for his gift.
The pictures moved in repetitive action, replaying the night over and over before his eyes. He was not helped by the fact that a much more recent night was burned into his eyes. He could still remember the sound of Poppy Pomfrey's voice as she pronounced Minerva dead. He could remember how he felt when even Severus Snape had begun to sob in his misery. He could still remember the sick feeling that swept him when Minerva's body decayed in his arms at such an alarming rate. Pulling himself back from the memories, Albus noticed the gathering puddle of tears on the cover of the album. Taking a deep breath, Dumbledore rose and went to the tall wooden cabinet, removing from it his smooth, silver penseive. Sitting back down carefully, he began to slowly draw shimmering silver threads of thought from his weary mind.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
When dinner was done on that Wednesday night in 1937, the young Professor Dumbledore caught up with Harry, Hermione and Ron.
"Have you discovered anything?" he asked them.
"Not much. We're going to have to watch and wait and see what turns up," said Hermione.
"Anything I can do to help?" asked Dumbledore.
"Help us keep an eye on Minerva. She likes your class and she tells me that she takes a walk with you almost every day," said Ron. Dumbledore nodded in agreement, "I'll do what I can."
The day before the terrible event was supposed to happen began with a thunderstorm that easily drowned out the flying class for that morning. Ron wandered into the Gryffindor common room to find Minerva curled up in a thick, overstuffed chair beneath a dark green tartan blanket. There was a book in her hands, but from the looks of it, Minerva had long ago fallen asleep. Ron gingerly took the book from her hands and glanced over the pages. Poetry. Ron had never developed a taste for it, but the one she had been reading left him spellbound; it was a muggle Egyptian Love Song by an unknown author.
At length, Minerva awoke, the early sunlight casting a bluish halo over her black hair, to find Ron sitting at the foot of the chair, reclining against the front, and reading her book of poetry. Still snuggled beneath her blanket, she smiled as she watched him reading, mouthing the words as if he were reading to some lucky girl in the opposite chair. He stopped abruptly when he felt a hand behind him playing with his tousled red hair. A blush burned his cheeks as he heard her start to giggle.
"Your curls are so dear!" she murmured. Ron had been spending more and more time with her as Harry and Hermione had taken to researching in the library and searching the castle for clues and Minerva had simply soaked up and loved the attention. Ron turned around and took Minerva's right hand into his as he sat at her feet. Gently, he kissed her hand and smiled up at her, beginning to idly caress her hand with his, touching each finger and tickling her palm. Minerva smiled broadly as Ron lifted her book and read out loud to her the Egyptian Love Song she had been reading,
"My love is one and only, without peer,
lovely above all Egypt's lovely girls.
On the horizon of my seeing,
See her, rising,
Glistening goddess of the sunrise star
Bright in the forehead of a lucky year.
So there she stands, epitome
Of shining, shedding light,
Her eyebrows, gleaming darkly, marking
Eyes which dance and wander.
Sweet are those lips, which chatter
(but never a word too much),
And the line of the long neck lovely, dropping
(since song's notes slide that way),
To young breasts firm in the bouncing light
Which shimmers that blueshadowed sidefall of hair.
And slim are those arms, overtoned with gold,
And those fingers which touch like a brush of lotus.
And (ah) how the curve of her back slips gently
By a whisper of waist to god's plenty below.
(Such thighs as hers pass knowledge
of loveliness known in the old days.)
Dressed in the perfect flesh of woman
(The heart would run captive to such slim arms).
She ladies it over the earth,
Schooling the neck of each schoolboy male
To swing on a swivel to see her move.
(He who could hold that body tight
would know at last
perfection of delight—
Best of the bullyboys,
First among lovers.)
Look you, all men, at that golden going,
Like Our Lady of Love,
Without peer."
When Ron had finished, Minerva was leaning closer to him. She was still holding his hand and she was smiling like an angel in heaven's light.
"I never noticed tha' ya have such beautiful eyes," said Minerva, looking into Ron's clear baby blues.
"I never really paid much attention to them," Ron said modestly. Slowly, Ron leaned forward and gently kissed Minerva on the lips. It was the single sweetest thing that Ron had ever experienced. Ron walked with Minerva to her next class, holding her hand the whole way as they walked. When they arrived at her class, Minerva turned and kissed his cheek.
"See ya at lunch then, Ron?" she said. Ron nodded, hesitating to let go of her hand as she walked into the classroom. As she entered the room, a Slytherin girl made a simply nasty face at her and said, "Oooh! Look! The banshee's got herself a boyfriend!" Ron was preparing to go into the room and straighten the Slytherin out when Minerva took matters into her own hands. She had been putting up with this particular girl for a long time, but today, new romance fueling her already fiery Scottish boldness, she kicked the stool out from beneath the girl, making her fall on her heavy bottom on the floor as her housemates laughed. Minerva smiled smugly as she walked to her seat and calmly sat down. Ron chuckled all the way back to the common room.
The next day, around four o'clock pm., Minerva bounded down the halls to Professor Dumbledore's office.
"Are you ready for our walk, Professor?" she asked brightly.
"I'm so sorry my Minerva," said Dumbledore, "I'm simply swamped! Can we take a rain check, my dear?" Minerva looked disappointed, but turned to leave anyway. Buried in his paperwork, Dumbledore didn't even notice that Minerva had gone to take her walk by herself.
The autumn wind blew stiffly as Minerva walked, causing her to pull her cloak closely around herself as she walked, following the well worn path down from the castle and around the lake. She stopped in her tracks near the gamekeeper's hut, thinking that she heard something like the crunch of footsteps behind her. Big ones. Minerva fought to keep her pounding heartbeat from being heard as she forced herself to continue walking, heading away from the hut. She quickened her pace a bit, letting the wind push her along. Was she really hearing footsteps? It could be Ron, coming to walk with her. But did she have the courage to turn around? Oh, for heaven's sake! She's a Gryffindor! Slowly, Minerva turned around and everything went black. Someone or something had just shot a double strength stunning spell at her. She collapsed to the ground, her attacker hoisting her up and carrying her back behind the gamekeeper's hut.
Minerva started to come around minutes later to the feeling that someone was pounding on her—hard. She realized as her consciousness cleared that her attacker was not merely pounding on her, he was—NO! She tried to fight, but he was too big and she was too young. He was too strong and she was just too afraid. She started to cry and scream for help, feeling the minutes slipping by without anyone coming to her rescue on this gray, blustery day.
Just as she was starting to give up hope, the man raised his fist to hit her again and stopped abruptly as though he had been slugged in the stomach. He collapsed on top of Minerva, nearly smothering her as she heard footsteps of several people thundering across the yard. The gamekeeper was rolled off of her and Ron scooped her up into his arms as she sobbed. He wrapped his cloak around her and held her, rocking just a little bit and stroking her hair as he kissed her head, assuring her that everything was going to be okay. Professor Dumbledore dropped to his knees beside them, spontaneously pulling Minerva away from Ron and into his own arms, shedding tears of his own and apologizing over and over for not going with her for her walk. Harry and Hermione joined them there. Hermione knelt beside Ron and put her hand on his shoulder.
"We have to go," she said softly. Ron fought the burning tears that were coming into his eyes.
"No!" Ron said, "Not yet," The group stood uneasily and Minerva looked at Ron.
"Wha's she talkin' about, Ron?" Minerva asked, puzzled. Ron gently stroked Minerva's face with his hands, pushing back the hair that had fallen into her face. Both of their hearts pounding, Ron kissed Minerva with all he had. Cupping her face in his hands. Harry and Hermione smiled at them, knowing full well that when they returned to 1995, Professor McGonagall would remember Ron giving her a kiss like that.
"I'll never forget you. The image of you in the common room yesterday will be my inspiration as long as I live," said Ron, "I want you to keep taking your walks with Professor Dumbledore. He'll take good care of you and between you and me, I think someday you'll be as great a witch as he is a wizard."
Minerva was still sniffling away tears as Ron kissed her again and let Harry pull him back with them a ways and the trio ran down the hill and back to the castle, heading straight for the place that they had appeared. Hermione carefully turned the enchanted hourglass back the other direction and Harry and Ron held tight to her robes, anticipating the yanking sensation that usually accompanied time travel.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
When the strobbing effect of the lights subsided and the floaters had faded from their eyes, Professor Dumbledore was still standing in his office waiting for them. In essence, it had been no more than five minutes since he had sent them and that was only because Harry had bumped Hermione's arm on the trip.
Slowly, the kids looked around at each other and started to smile. They did it! Professor Dumbledore smiled through a film of tears and the kids ran to embrace him.
"Oh, Professor, are we ever glad to see you!" cried Hermione.
"It was exciting but I am so glad to be home!" cried Harry.
"We did it, Professor! We saved Minerva!" Ron cried. The others looked at him.
"I mean…we saved Professor McGonagall," Ron corrected himself. The others looked at him gently. They knew that it was going to take time for him to adjust to calling her "Professor" again.
They hurried to the hospital wing where poor Madam Pomfrey was having a terrible go at trying to roll bandages with her wand. They kept tying themselves into knots as she tried to charm them. She was crying again. Ron and Harry ran and pulled the curtains away from the bed where Professor McGonagall's remains were placed. She was there, fully restored, and unconscious. Hermione and Dumbledore joined them as Madam Pomfrey shouted in protest. She didn't know that Dumbledore had sent the trio back in time to prevent the event from happening at all. Madam Pomfrey shrieked when she saw McGonagall, newly restored, lying on the bed. She rushed to her bedside with the others as Dumbledore lifted Minerva's hand to his lips and kissed it. Gently, he called her name and her eyes flickered open. She saw Dumbledore and her eyes welled with tears. She reached a shaking hand up to stroke his face as he lost the battle to keep from sobbing. He melted into her arms, his shoulders shaking from the tears that flooded his eyes. Relief washed over the three kids standing nearby, Harry's arms around his two closest friends. He kissed Hermione's head and squeezed Ron's shoulder as they watched the reunited lovers. Madam Pomfrey joined the two professors there beside the bed, folding both of them into her arms as she cried.
Professor Snape wandered into the hospital wing moments later, complaining of a splinter in his hand and stopped abruptly as he saw the scene near the bed. He pushed Harry, Ron and Hermione out of the way as he approached the bed, trying fiercely to deny the new tears invading his brown eyes. When he approached the bed, McGonagall opened her free arm to fold him into her embrace as well.
Later that night, after the massive feast to welcome Professor McGonagall back, McGonagall herself retired to her sitting room. Looking about the room, a curious smile crossed her often stern features. She sent her house elf to fetch someone to her that she desperately wished to speak to.
Minutes later, a freckled face with tousled red hair peered into the doorway.
"You called for me, Professor?" Ron called.
"Come in, Mr. Weasley," said Professor McGonagall. Ron came forward and McGonagall swept him into her arms.
"I owe you my life, Mr. Weasley," said Professor McGonagall.
"No you don't," said Ron, "It was Professor Dumbledore who shot those stunning spells at the imposter gamekeeper." He looked up at her. There was something different about this McGonagall. Something softer about her eyes, something that wasn't as stern as he remembered. She saw this quiet examination of her and smiled.
"Oh, yes, you did. I was feeling so alone that year. You changed my life by making me feel beautiful. You made me feel like I mattered during a time in my life when I felt worthless. Quite literally, Ron, you did save my life," Minerva explained. She went to a large trunk near the window and took something long and black from it. When she turned back around, she was holding Ron's cloak—the one that he had wrapped around her shoulders when she had been attacked. It had been cleaned and she draped it around his shoulders. Ron caught a glimpse of something gold on the inside of the cloak and looked only to find that inside, sewn into the cloak were the words to their Egyptian Love Song.
"I've been waiting sixty-one years to give you that cloak. After everything was said and done, Albus—I mean Professor Dumbledore—told me everything. We decided that there must be more to us, Dumbledore and I, than we knew. Something right. I was heartbroken after you left, but you were right—Professor Dumbledore took excellent care of me. It didn't make it any better, but I realized shortly after that that you had not even been born yet. Actually, your parents hadn't even been born yet," said McGonagall.
Ron looked at his lost love with understanding eyes. She sank into a nearby chair and Ron sat down at her feet again, just as he had done sixty years before, and from his pocket, he produced a well worn volume and opened it to an obviously well-loved page. This particular chair, Minerva's favorite, was large enough for her to curl up in with her favorite green tartan blanket. As a matter of fact, it was the very same chair that had been in the common room during Minerva's school years. Albus had moved it to her bedroom when she started teaching there, so that she would always have her favorite chair.
Minerva scooted over in the chair and urged Ron to come and sit beside her. Ron stood, and without hesitation, he snuggled into the chair beside her and once again, he read out loud to her the very same beautiful poem. At the prompting of Minerva's arm around him, Ron tucked his head against her shoulder as he read, and subconsciously, she reached up and began to play with the long curls on the back of his head. Both of them smiled and Minerva chuckled as she noted Ron's scarlet blush. The two sat in contemplative silence for a while after Ron had finished. Simply breathing the same air and remembering the adventure they would never forget.
When a knock at the door pierced the silence, Ron stood and kissed Minerva's cheek before he left the room and Dumbledore entered, smiling calmly at his Deputy. As soon as Ron was out of earshot, Minerva melted into Dumbledore's embrace and nearly disappeared beneath his long sleeves. After kissing her soundly, Dumbledore produced a small scarlet velvet pouch. He guided Minerva back to her chair and he himself sat down at her feet. Dumbledore took something out of the little pouch and held it in his hands. He looked up at Minerva with the eyes of a man who had been given a second chance to live the life he had always wanted.
"Albus, what is this?" she asked with a wide smile.
"The night that you were taken from me, I had something so important to ask you that I was going to wait until after dinner and I had you all to myself. I thought I'd lost you forever, Minerva, and I can't take that risk again. I don't ever want to feel like that again. Minerva, will you marry me, my love? Or has Mr. Weasley beaten me to it?" he teased. Minerva laughed through thrilled tears and accepted his proposal.
As the sun set on Hogwart's school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the lovers of the wizarding world, old and new, relaxed into relieved slumber. Fate could now take its natural course and its all thanks to love, and an enchanted hourglass.