The first thing Minerva expected to see as she, the next morning, opened her bright green eyes, was the star-filled sky. She'd grown used to awake with the moon, she'd grown to open her eyes and look straight into the eyes of the night.
But as she did open her eyes and looked, she saw the dark green roof of a camouflage tent- and fresh, young sunlight peeping through the small window. It took her quite a few moments to recover- and to realize where she was, but as soon as her searching eyes found back her beloved broomstick, her lips curled into a slight, yet not entirely happy smile. She was happy to have made it, of course- to be here, to be here to defend the rights of all girls who were considered not strong enough to fight. She was proud because at least on of them, namely her, had made it.
But she also was frightened. Frightened because of the future- because of the things to come, of course, frightened because of the final battle against Lord Grindelwald, but there was so much more.
The prejudices she would have to face. The bitterness, already growing deep within her, she would have to battle.
Herself, whom she would have to fight.
Because there had arisen something- something she had not expected to arise. Something that had showed itself just the night before, as Albus- Professor Dumbledore- had taken her hand and introduced her to the Minister. The soft pressure of his fingers on the palm of her hand had told her something she did not quite understand.
As she turned round on her small yet comfortable bed, she realized she truly did not understand- and it worried her. It worried her beyond words- because exactly on the moment she needed her common sense the most, it seemed to have abandoned her.
Getting more lost in her own, confused thoughts with every passing moment, Minerva decided to get out of bed before she got herself entirely depressed. She slowly stretched her legs in a somewhat catlike and searched her bag for a suitable robe to wear. A somewhat ruffled, yet practical dark blue dress quite appealed to her, and less than five minutes later, she had finished both dressing and plaiting her hair in five minutes - a remarkable- so every woman will acknowledge- record indeed.
But in fact she'd finished right in time, because as soon as her long, black plait- adjusted by a dark red ribbon- tumbled down her back, a soft knock on the tent cover kept her from pondering.
"Minerva?"
She turned around at this familiar calling of her name- quicker than even she with her sharp reflexes had ever thought possible. Albus Dumbledore faintly smiled as he extended his hands towards her.
"I've not had the time yesterday," he semi-stately declared- but the twinkle in his eyes gave his joy away.
"to congratulate you, Miss McGonagall, on your appointment as my personal assistant. Congratulations!"
Before Minerva had time to really understand what had happened, the man before her, her Professor and companion-through-days-to-come had pulled her closer and pressed three polite, yet enthusiastic kisses on her cheeks.
"Congratulations!" Albus repeated with a broad grin fixed on his auburn-bearded face, and Minerva slightly smiled. She had to oppress the urge to touch her cheeks with her fingertips- she knew very well they'd gone entirely pink-ish, and it made her feel somewhat uncomfortable.
"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore." she softly responded, forcing a broad smile that she did not entirely feel on her thin lips.
"Really, thank you. I had not expected you to- you shouldn't have…"
She started stammering and did the best thing she could do… she shut up and smiled again, a real smile this time.
"Thank you." Minerva summarized, untangling her folded hands in the process- and Albus smiled, his eyes twinkling more with every word he said.
"It's nothing, Minerva- after all, I will need my personal assistant in the days to come- and who else than the youngest Animagus ever heard of could be fit for that task."
Minerva felt the blood creep up to her cheeks again and laughed, surprising herself.
"Professor, could you stop making me blush, please?"
Albus smiled and made a small, semi-courteous bow.
"Ah- Minerva, I cannot but remark that blush quite flatters you, my dear."
Minerva smiled and shook her head, resting a hand against her warm cheek.
"You are doing it again!"
Albus looked up again and smiled once more, extending his arm towards her.
"Well then I'll stop right here, Minerva- are you ready to accompany me?"
She nodded and grabbed his arm, but he caught her somewhat inquiring gaze and explained
"Ethain has organized a small meeting about the plans for the future. He told me I didn't have to wake you for it, but I thought you'd probably want to be there…"
Minerva's eyes almost shot fire as she had almost so easily been overlooked. She knew it had probably been just the Minister's kind nature- she realized she must have looked very tired the night before- but still. Somehow, somewhere she secretly thought it had been her gender that had made him "spare" her, if she could put it that way. And that she didn't like.
That –despite all possible good intentions- Minerva McGonagall truly did not like.
As she walked alongside Albus, her arm resting against his in a remarkably comfortable gesture, and slowly approached the small circle- meeting- that apparently was to take place before the largest tent, she noticed again what she had realized the night before- and maybe even already way earlier.
She was the only woman here.
And Minerva again understood what she'd understood so many times before.
She knew what she would have to do.
She would have to fight.
But as she did open her eyes and looked, she saw the dark green roof of a camouflage tent- and fresh, young sunlight peeping through the small window. It took her quite a few moments to recover- and to realize where she was, but as soon as her searching eyes found back her beloved broomstick, her lips curled into a slight, yet not entirely happy smile. She was happy to have made it, of course- to be here, to be here to defend the rights of all girls who were considered not strong enough to fight. She was proud because at least on of them, namely her, had made it.
But she also was frightened. Frightened because of the future- because of the things to come, of course, frightened because of the final battle against Lord Grindelwald, but there was so much more.
The prejudices she would have to face. The bitterness, already growing deep within her, she would have to battle.
Herself, whom she would have to fight.
Because there had arisen something- something she had not expected to arise. Something that had showed itself just the night before, as Albus- Professor Dumbledore- had taken her hand and introduced her to the Minister. The soft pressure of his fingers on the palm of her hand had told her something she did not quite understand.
As she turned round on her small yet comfortable bed, she realized she truly did not understand- and it worried her. It worried her beyond words- because exactly on the moment she needed her common sense the most, it seemed to have abandoned her.
Getting more lost in her own, confused thoughts with every passing moment, Minerva decided to get out of bed before she got herself entirely depressed. She slowly stretched her legs in a somewhat catlike and searched her bag for a suitable robe to wear. A somewhat ruffled, yet practical dark blue dress quite appealed to her, and less than five minutes later, she had finished both dressing and plaiting her hair in five minutes - a remarkable- so every woman will acknowledge- record indeed.
But in fact she'd finished right in time, because as soon as her long, black plait- adjusted by a dark red ribbon- tumbled down her back, a soft knock on the tent cover kept her from pondering.
"Minerva?"
She turned around at this familiar calling of her name- quicker than even she with her sharp reflexes had ever thought possible. Albus Dumbledore faintly smiled as he extended his hands towards her.
"I've not had the time yesterday," he semi-stately declared- but the twinkle in his eyes gave his joy away.
"to congratulate you, Miss McGonagall, on your appointment as my personal assistant. Congratulations!"
Before Minerva had time to really understand what had happened, the man before her, her Professor and companion-through-days-to-come had pulled her closer and pressed three polite, yet enthusiastic kisses on her cheeks.
"Congratulations!" Albus repeated with a broad grin fixed on his auburn-bearded face, and Minerva slightly smiled. She had to oppress the urge to touch her cheeks with her fingertips- she knew very well they'd gone entirely pink-ish, and it made her feel somewhat uncomfortable.
"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore." she softly responded, forcing a broad smile that she did not entirely feel on her thin lips.
"Really, thank you. I had not expected you to- you shouldn't have…"
She started stammering and did the best thing she could do… she shut up and smiled again, a real smile this time.
"Thank you." Minerva summarized, untangling her folded hands in the process- and Albus smiled, his eyes twinkling more with every word he said.
"It's nothing, Minerva- after all, I will need my personal assistant in the days to come- and who else than the youngest Animagus ever heard of could be fit for that task."
Minerva felt the blood creep up to her cheeks again and laughed, surprising herself.
"Professor, could you stop making me blush, please?"
Albus smiled and made a small, semi-courteous bow.
"Ah- Minerva, I cannot but remark that blush quite flatters you, my dear."
Minerva smiled and shook her head, resting a hand against her warm cheek.
"You are doing it again!"
Albus looked up again and smiled once more, extending his arm towards her.
"Well then I'll stop right here, Minerva- are you ready to accompany me?"
She nodded and grabbed his arm, but he caught her somewhat inquiring gaze and explained
"Ethain has organized a small meeting about the plans for the future. He told me I didn't have to wake you for it, but I thought you'd probably want to be there…"
Minerva's eyes almost shot fire as she had almost so easily been overlooked. She knew it had probably been just the Minister's kind nature- she realized she must have looked very tired the night before- but still. Somehow, somewhere she secretly thought it had been her gender that had made him "spare" her, if she could put it that way. And that she didn't like.
That –despite all possible good intentions- Minerva McGonagall truly did not like.
As she walked alongside Albus, her arm resting against his in a remarkably comfortable gesture, and slowly approached the small circle- meeting- that apparently was to take place before the largest tent, she noticed again what she had realized the night before- and maybe even already way earlier.
She was the only woman here.
And Minerva again understood what she'd understood so many times before.
She knew what she would have to do.
She would have to fight.