Authors Note: Hello, all! First off, thanks so much to the fab readers who have read & reviewed the first 2 chapters. You guys rock! And now, without further delay, I give you . . . Chapter 3! (Ta-dah!) Hope you enjoy!

She stood alone on the road to Hogsmeade. The wind whipped around her in the darkness, howling across the moors. There was someone following her, she could feel it . . . her body quivered, every muscle and nerve poised and alert. The lonely path before her shimmered in the darkness, the outline of dead trees and underbrush surprisingly clear and sharp for a moonless night. The landscape towered before her, familiar landmarks suddenly four times their normal size. Something was quite wrong - the world around her roared with sound and movement, the overwhelming scent of something musky and sour threatened to choke her.

Home. She needed to go home. But though her body felt charged with a burning current of movement, she was frozen, alone and vulnerable in the middle of the road. Run . . . run . . . there is danger - just beyond the trees - coming down the hillsides - thundering along the road - you can feel it, taste it, smell it, you know it without seeing it or hearing it - run, Minerva . . .
" Minerva!"

She sat up wildly, her breath coming in short gasps. Where was she? What was that shadow, coming closer, leaning forward -

"Lumos!" a clear voice broke the whispery silence.

Wand-light suddenly flared dimly though the darkened room. Minerva found herself staring into Tully's joyful and sleep-touseled face. He was kneeling on the foot of her bed, positively shivering with excitement. Bowen stood next to him, leaning against the bedpost, looking equally ecstatic. She blinked a few times, and the rest of the room came into focus - Adian and Sloane were both slumped in the lavender velvet armchair by the window, looking only half- awake. Gregory stood in the doorway with his forehead pressed to the door frame, his eyes closed and his body slack. Malcolm was just beside him, his hair ridiculously mussed, squinting at her in the thin light of his wand.

"IT'S CHRISTMAS!" Tully crowed, bouncing on the end of her bed. Minerva shut her eyes for a brief moment, pinching the bridge of her nose and giving her head a little shake. It had been a dream - that terrible, hunted feeling, that dark, lonely road - none of it was real. She opened her eyes once again, noticing for the first time the faint, pinkish glow of dawn that was only just beginning to filter through the curtains.

"What time is it?" she muttered, rubbing her eyes.

"Almost half five," Adian mumbled in response.

"Urrrrgghhh. . . . Tully . . . its too early . . ." she groaned, sitting back against her pillows. She was aware that her heart was still beating rather fast, and her body felt stiff and achy from being so tense. The physical effects of her terrible dream were still very real. Now that she was awake, she needed a moment to collect herself, but her youngest brother was having none of that.

"It's never too early for Christmas, Min!" Tully chirped. It sounded as though he'd been awake for hours.

"Go tell that to Mum and Dad, why don't you?" Gregory croaked without opening his eyes. "We'll wait here."

Satisfied that all of his siblings were now at least conscious, Tully swaggered out of the room with a grinning Bowen at his heels.

"Isn't he a bit too old for this pre-dawn Christmas morning bit?" Sloane muttered.

"He's doing it for spite," Adian answered. "He and Bowen . . . they're plotting against us . . ."

Minerva shivered. Malcolm, yawning widely, crossed the room and sat down heavily on the edge of the bed.

"Maybe Dad'll tell him to go back to bed," Sloane continued. "I'm sure he's not about to jump up and dance a Christmas jig . . ."

"You all right?" Malcolm asked Minerva quietly. She'd been staring rather blankly at the window across from her bed, watching the pale light slowly widening the shadows along the curtains.

"Yes . . . just not quite awake . . ." she replied, coming back to reality. Malcolm was looking at her hard - a particular, careful glance that Minerva knew well. It was the same look he used to communicate with her across the Quidditch pitch or the crowded Griffindor common room - his practiced form of wordless conversation.

When she refused to meet his eyes, he spoke aloud.

"What were you dreaming about?"

She hesitated, not at all sure she wanted to share the details of her strange dream with her brother. Now that she was more awake, the intensity of the scene was beginning to fade. How silly, to be so worked up over walking along the road in the dark! Why, it was something Tully would fret over.

"I don't remember," she said, smoothing her dark braids back over her shoulders.

To her surprise, he let the subject drop. "Do you hear that?" he asked, his voice returned to its normal tone. "Someone's whistling the Puddlemere United anthem - oh, bloody hell, they've woken Dumbledore!"

The five siblings exchanged a wide, worried glance. In her own half-awake haze, Minerva had almost forgotten that Professor Dumbledore was staying in the guest room just down the hall. How awfully rude for him to be woken up so early on the very first morning of his holiday!

"Tully, you twit," Gregory mumbled under his breath as stuck his head out into the hallway.

"Ah! Good morning, Gregory! Happy Christmas!" the familiar, light-hearted lilt of Dumbledore's voice now echoed down the hallway. It grew louder as he approached Minerva's bedroom door. "I was wondering when you children would arise - it is Christmas morn, after all!"

"Sorry, Professor. About Tully, I mean - I hope he didn't wake you -"

"I'm pleased to say that he did not," Dumbledore crowed brightly. "I myself have been awake since nearly quarter-to-five. I've never been able to sleep in on Christmas, no matter how exceedingly ancient I become!"

"Come on, come on!" Tully's eager voice cried. He and Bowen bounded down the staircase from their parent's third floor bedroom. Eleanor and Cameron followed sleepily behind.

"Slow down, Tully love," Eleanor yawned. "Let's collect the others before we go downstairs."

Adian and Sloane now dragged themselves from Minerva's armchair and out into the hall with the rest of the family. Minerva reluctantly drew the covers back and shivered as her bare feet touched the chilly hardwood floor.

"Don't be a baby, Min - get some slippers and let's go," Malcolm said, stretching his arms wide as he, too, wandered out into the hallway.

Minerva donned her dressing gown and slippers, gave her bed one last longing glance and then followed her family downstairs to the parlor, where Christmas was waiting.

Two hours later, the McGonagall parlor had been transformed into a sea of discarded wrapping paper, gift boxes, and bows. The joyful chaos of opening presents had come to an end, and now the adults sat comfortably on the long tartan sofa, sharing tea and Christmas cake as they watched the younger children play with their new gifts.

"Mum, can I go out and try my new broom? Please?" Bowen was pleading. It was family tradition that each child was given a broomstick when they turned twelve, and Bowen had spent weeks pouring over the Quidditch Quarterly, selecting his favorite model.

"Later, Bowen - if you go out now, I'll never get you back in for Christmas dinner," Eleanor said firmly.

"Oh, Ellie, let the boy go," Cameron soothed. He did not normally contradict his wife's orders when it came to the children, but the holiday made him a bit more relaxed than usual. "So long as he knows he's to come in when he's called." he added, giving Bowen a stern look.

"Of course, Father!" he called over his shoulder as he raced upstairs to get dressed. Tully, Adian, and Sloane followed his lead, with a treasure trove of fireworks, broom accessories, and Sloane's new pet toad piled high in their arms.

"Ah, if only every day could be Christmas," Malcolm mused, stretching out on the floor amongst the tattered wrappings.

"If every day was Christmas, it wouldn't be very special, now, would it?" Minerva remarked, not bothering to glance up from her book. It was a present from Dumbledore, a heavy volume chronicling the lives of famous Animagi throughout history. She was now curled up in an armchair by the fire and so engrossed in her reading that she didn't even notice Malcolm bouncing his new Quidditch World Cup Regulation quaffle repeatedly off her knees.

"Min, must you always be such a kill-joy?" Malcolm asked lightly.

"I don't know - must you always be such a pest?"

"Now you two," Eleanor interjected with gentle caution.

"Malcolm - what is this?" Gregory suddenly asked, fishing through a pile of papers on the floor and holding up a large jar of rather suspect looking amber liquid.

"That," Malcolm replied haughtily, snatching the jar from his brother, "is my Christmas gift from Dumbledore. Brilliant, isn't it?"

"It looks like death in a bottle," Gregory said.

"Ha! There's where your wrong, my dear sir," Malcolm said, shoving Gregory and his box full of chocolate frogs aside to cross the room and hold the gloopy mess up to the light. "With this Essence du Lethifold, I will finally be able to undertake some experiments of my own."

"If you think you're keeping that in our bedroom, you're dead wrong," his wary brother replied. Dumbledore gave a gentle chuckle.

"Not to worry, Gregory. I have taken particular care to make sure that container is an unbreakable one. As long as one avoids direct contact with the skin and keeps the substance locked in a closet at night, there is relatively little danger."

"Malcolm, do be careful with that," Eleanor said, looking a bit fearfully from Dumbledore to her oldest son.

"Mother, I am not a child," Malcolm said, rather indignant at her sudden apprehension. "If Minerva's allowed to flit about trying to turn herself into a cat, I don't see why I can't work on my own - potentially ground-breaking - projects of interest!"

"I do not flit about -!" Minerva declared savagely.

"Enough!" Cameron cut in. "No one is doubting your abilities in the least, Malcolm. Let's not have any arguments on Christmas."

"Fine," said Malcolm, "I'll just take this upstairs to the closet," and he marched from the room with his present tucked under his arm.

"What exactly is Essence du Lethifold used for, anyway?" Gregory asked Dumbledore.

"Well, it has many different properties, some, I daresay, yet to be discovered," Dumbledore replied. "It is a highly potent base for many healing potions, though it's primary use thus far has been in temporary invisibility charms."

"If I'm not mistaken, it's a sanctioned, imported ingredient," Cameron said, leaning back to light his pipe. "Are you sure Malcolm will be putting that to good use, Albus?"

"I am, Cameron," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling in the merry glow of the Christmas tree. "Malcolm has recently discussed with me his interests in the Healing profession, and his potions marks are some of the best I've ever seen. I have encouraged him to pursue his ideas, under the guidance of Professor Quigley, our esteemed potions master, of course."

"Isn't that wonderful," Eleanor breathed. "How lovely it'd be to have a Healer in the family!"

"Yes, well," Cameron mused, puffing thoughtfully on his pipe for a moment. A thin cloud of woodsy smelling smoke rose towards the ceiling. "So long as he's content to stay in Hogsmeade. He's got quite a bit of family responsibility coming to him, Eleanor. As the oldest McGonagall son, he can't just dally off to London to seek his fortune."

"Cameron, don't talk that way. The children should be encouraged to pursue whatever paths they choose - especially when they show a particular aptitude," she added, glancing over at Minerva before giving her husband a reproachful look. Cameron began to bristle, but Gregory suddenly chimed in,

"What happened to not arguing on Christmas?" he blurted out.

For a moment, Minerva thought her father was going to get angry. Indeed, Cameron paused for a moment, staring sharply at his son, before his face relaxed slightly and he took another long pull on his pipe.

"Aye, you have me there, Gregory. I won't say another word about it. Fancy a bit of chess, Dumbledore?"

"Indeed, I would," Dumbledore replied jovially, setting down his teacup. As the two men began setting up the chessboard on the side table, Minerva shut her book quietly and rose from her seat.

"Aren't you going to stay and watch this match, Min?" Gregory asked her as she made her way carefully across the cluttered floor to the doorway. He was sitting beside the chess table now, eager to observe his father and Professor Dumbledore in action.

"I'll come back in a bit," she promised. "I'm just going to get dressed."

Once upstairs, however, Minerva padded past her own bedroom door and down the hall to Malcolm and Gregory's room. The door was half open, and she knocked cautiously before pushing it further ajar.

Though they'd only been home one day, Malcolm and Gregory's room was in state of messy chaos. Hogwarts robes, school books, Quidditch magazines and other piles of bric-a-brac littered the floor. Here amongst the clutter, Malcolm sat in an old captain's chair at his desk, leaning back in his seat and staring thoughtfully out the window. He jumped at the sound of his sister's gentle knocking, and spun around.

"Just wanted to make sure your potion hadn't attacked you," Minerva said with a crooked grin, gesturing to the jar that now stood on Malcolm's desk, it's contents slowly bubbling.

"Ha," Malcolm said dryly, turning back to the window. Minerva frowned. It was unusual for Malcolm to sit quietly - especially on a day where celebration and general goofing about was expected. She stepped over a pile of sweaty-smelling Quidditch robes on the floor and sat on the end of her brother's bed.

"Are you going to tell me what the matter is, or will I have to guess?" she asked sternly. Malcolm remained silent.

"Did you overhear Father and Mum's little discussion about your future?" Minerva continued.

"It was pretty bloody hard not to. Father can be awfully loud when he's declaring what other people are going to do with their lives."

"Yes, subtly is not one of his strong points," Minerva agreed. She waited for Malcolm to continue ranting, but to her surprise, he fell silent once again.

"It's not like you to take him to heart, though, Malcolm," she pressed him. "You don't really think he's going to bar you from pursuing a Healing career, do you?"

"Yes, I do," her brother said flatly. "When it comes to the family, and the Clan and its bloody traditions, Father is about as reasonable as a stone wall. It won't matter to him what I want to do. It's himself and his legacy he's worried about."

"But - it's not as if your his only child, Malcolm," Minerva said, absently smoothing at the fraying end of her brother's favorite quilt. "He's got 5 other sons and a daughter who can take over the position of the Clan -"

Malcolm snorted. "Somehow, I don't think they'll be forcing you to do anything you don't want to do."

"That's not fair -" Minerva began.

"You're right, it's not," Malcolm cut in forcefully. "But don't pretend that's not the way things are, Minerva! You don't realize how lucky you are, being the only girl - you've got a dispensation to do whatever you like, to just go off and be brilliant and not be tied to all this bloody history that comes with carrying on the McGonagall name!"

"Is that what you think I'm going to do?" Minerva's voice rose, and she could feel her cheeks growing hot with anger. "Do you really think I'm just going to off and move away when we're done with Hogwarts, pursue my own dreams and forget about everyone else? You've got a lot of bloody nerve, Malcolm - you of all people should know me better than that!"

"Oh, of course!" Malcolm exploded, his voice rising even louder than hers, almost to the point of shouting. He jumped from his seat, crossed the room and shut the door before whirling around to face her. Whereas Minerva flushed whenever she was angry or upset, Malcolm grew very pale. His face was white and his eyes shining as he stood in front of the door, his fingers still tense on the knob as he spoke.

"You're right, Minerva - I do know you better than anyone else! And I know how incredibly talented you are - and if you think for a second that Father, or Mother, or I am going to stand in the way of you achieving every possible success in life - then for once, you are wrong! But that doesn't change that fact that my career has been plotted out for me since birth, weather or not I'm interested, weather or not I'm even good at what Father wants me to do! You and I both know how hopeless I am at ancient Magick! I think Tully probably understands the whole damn process better than I do!"

Malcolm moved away from the door, pacing miserably back and forth between Gregory's bed and his own.

"Dumbledore was very encouraging when I met with him to talk about taking extra Potions sessions with Professor Quigley. He even mentioned finding a potential position for me as an apprentice at St. Mungo's at the end of next year! But you heard Father! There's no way he'll let me go to London, not without cutting me off forever! I was really pleased that Dumbledore found me some Essence du Lethifold, but now I don't know why I should even bother experimenting with it. I wish I hadn't even spoken to him about it at all."

"Malcolm, stop!" Minerva suddenly snapped, her voice much louder than either of them had expected. Malcolm froze midway between the end of his bed and the door, facing his sister.

"Be reasonable!" she continued, her voice sharp. "We still have a year and a half before we're through with Hogwarts. So many things can change between now and then, and I won't have you rolling over in self defeat before life's even begun!"

Her nostrils narrowed slightly as she drew in a long, careful breath, checking her temper before she spoke her next words.

"And as for the future - I intend to share whatever responsibilities Father hands to you, whether you like it or not! You are not the oldest child in this family, Malcolm. I have you beat by 4 and a half minutes. And if that means we are both returning to Hogsmoor to learn Clannauld Magick after next year, so be it. But I'm not leaving you behind, and neither you, nor Father, nor Dumbledore himself can convince me of anything different."

She nearly added a little 'So there!' to the end of this speech, but quickly stopped herself. Really, if Malcolm was going to be so insistently over-dramatic about things, she too could play at that game.

Her brother was staring at her now, and a strange, blank sort of look passed briefly over his face. Minerva could tell he was struggling for a reaction - deciding whether or not to continue arguing or just give in to her now. She could be far more stubborn than him when she needed to be, and Malcolm could see that she wasn't about to let him spend Christmas mooning over the state of his future.

"I'll make a deal with you," he said finally, his voice returning to its normal volume and tone, "If Father does decide to saddle us with this 'family tradition' business, we'll both cut and run to London without telling him."

"I will hold you to that," Minerva replied with a wry smile, holding out her hand for her brother to shake. Malcolm's face finally broke into its regular, amused little grin, as he crossed the room and firmly shook his sister's hand.

The rest of the McGonagall family Christmas was as peaceful and pleasant as anyone could possible wish. The traditional Holiday Dinner made the feast of the night before look like a bedtime snack. The McGonagall boys lead a careful procession of the haggis into the dining room, while the dusty old bagpipes that spent most of the year mounted above the fireplace sprang to life and played a wheezy tune. There was no further mention of McGonagall clan responsibilities or future career decisions as the merry family and their delighted guest shared puddings and pies and a few boisterously sung carols around the table.

It was only half past nine when Minerva found herself nodding off, despite the lively game of Charades being played by the rest of her family. After wishing everyone a good night and a Happy Christmas, she retired to bed, too exhausted to even read another chapter from her new book before falling asleep.

Her nightmare did not return. In truth, after the day's events, she had nearly forgotten all about her strange dream of the previous night. Instead, she dreamed of flying her broom through a lovely forest of decorated evergreen trees, while outside her bedroom window, a gentle snowfall covered the world in a final, light dusting of Christmas snow.

Psst! Me again! Just a few little comments from moi before I leave you - first of all, I should note that the argument between Malcolm & Minerva was totally not part of my plan for this chapter. They just kind of . . . started arguing - and hey, I wasn't about to stop them! But if that scene didn't work for ya'll or if the conversation seems a little out of the blue . . . thats why. Hehe - I'm blamin' it on the characters - man, what a lame cop-out!

Also, I should probably mention that the next chapter is where the action really picks up and things get a bit darker. Oooo - suspense! On that note, I'm also going to be starting classes again soon (yay for college!), so my updating may not be as frequent - but fear not, I WILL be updating! In the meantime, though, if you'd like to review and let me know what you thought this time around - and maybe remind me to get workin' on our next installment - well then, you would be my new friend! Thanks for reading!

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