Disclaimer: None of the recognizable characters and settings belong to me. They are all the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling. I'm just playing around with them for the fun of it…no monetary gain is sought.

This story is dedicated to scatteredlogic for her cherished friendship and all her invaluable help.

Chapter Twenty Nine: Out of the Frying Pan…

As the massive door closed behind Minerva and the Aurors, Dumbledore turned back to his stunned staff. His eyes skimmed over their faces quickly, assessing much. Filch was quite excited and not doing a very good job of hiding it. There was a part of Filch that always longed to see those he grudgingly considered his masters to be brought low. Though Dumbledore didn't believe that the man would actively seek to have harm come to anyone here within the castle, if harm came knocking all on its own, he wouldn't mind one bit opening the door and watching from the sidelines. Best to deal with him first.

"Argus. If you have duties that you need to attend to, it would probably be best if you got to them. I don't think there'll be anything else happening here at the moment."

Filch nodded with an air of disappointment. "Aye, Headmaster. I probably should be getting up to the Prefect's bath. I never did think that I'd be better off with my lot than with Professor McGonagall's, but I'd rather be mucking out the plumbing for days than be headed to where she's going right now. Yes, I would." He nodded to Dumbledore and Snape with some satisfaction, ignored the librarian, then turned around and headed off up the staircase.

Dumbledore then turned to Snape and Pince. Irma Pince looked severely stricken, and was twisting her hands together and staring at him with a rather dazed expression on her face. Snape on the other hand, though obviously upset, did not look surprised. In fact, if anything, he looked slightly guilty. If he had to guess, the Headmaster would have to assume that Minerva's arrest wasn't as much of a surprise to him as it was to the rest of them. Perhaps he'd learned something of this last night, but if so, why on earth hadn't he come and told him about it?

Irma suddenly clutched at the elder wizard's sleeve. "Headmaster, what are we going to do? We can't just let them throw Minerva into prison. She'll never survive in that horrible place. You have to do something. This has to be some huge misunderstanding. Minerva would never murder anyone! You know that!"

Dumbledore patted Madam Pince's hand reassuringly. "There, there, Irma. I'm sure that you're right. Probably, this is all just a mistake. As soon as I've spoken to the school and reassured them, I will contact Amelia Bones and find out what's really going on. We'll get Minerva out of there as soon as we can. I promise."

The scared librarian nodded; firmly convinced that Dumbledore could do anything that he said he could. Things would be okay. They just had to be.

"Now, you go on in to breakfast, and I'll be in, in a moment." He gave her a reassuring smile.

Irma nodded again and tried a weak smile in return, but it wasn't a very successful effort. "All right, if you say so."

Still feeling somewhat dazed and uneasy, she nevertheless did as she was told and turned away from Dumbledore to cross the entryway and open the door to the Great Hall; then reluctantly, she slipped through it with a final quick, nervous glance back at the two men who remained behind in the vestibule.

As soon as the door closed behind the librarian, Dumbledore turned his sharp gaze on his Potions master who stood quietly, simply waiting for his interrogation to begin.

"You knew that was going to happen, didn't you, Severus." It was more of a statement than a question.

Reluctantly, Snape nodded. "Minerva hoped that she'd be able to slip away from the school before they came for her, but she wasn't successful in her attempt…obviously." Mostly because of me, he admitted to himself with an uncomfortable twinge of guilt.

"Why didn't one of you come to me? I should've been informed long before things got to this point."

Snape nodded his agreement. "I know, Headmaster. I only found out the truth last night, after we spoke. I wanted to tell you. I spent most of last night trying to persuade Minerva that telling you what was going on would be the wisest course of action she could take, but she refused to listen to me. There is no more stubborn creature on the face of the earth than Minerva McGonagall once she's made up her mind about something." Snape's face registered his disgust at his lack of success at convincing her to act sensibly.

Dumbledore nodded shortly and sighed. "Very well. Once I talk to the school, I'll go and speak to Amelia and get her version of what's going on, though I imagine I'll discover that it concerns Ian Standish in some way."

Snape's expression darkened, and he nodded. "Yes. I'm afraid it does."

"After you eat your own breakfast, Severus, you will join me in my office. Obviously, you know Minerva's side of things, and I'll need to know what that is before I can decide how best to act."

"Yes, Headmaster. I'll tell you everything I know."

"Very well. Now, let us go in and project a united front to reassure the students."

Dumbledore turned away and crossed to the doors that led into the Great Hall. With a swift movement of his hand, the heavy wooden panels flew open before him, and he swept into the hall with the dark figure of the Potions master dogging his steps and knowing full well that the very last thing he could ever do at the moment, was sit quietly and eat his breakfast as if nothing had happened. As if she wasn't gone.

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Minerva huddled in the corner of a cramped boat cabin and tried to ignore the horrific effect that the rolling swells beneath her were having on her empty stomach, though she imagined that it would be worse if she'd actually managed to eat anything this morning.

Once the Aurors had hustled her out of Hogwarts, they'd shoved her down across the lawn and then one of them had produced a ratty old sock from an inner pocket and had draped it over her shoulder and down across her upper chest while both he and his partner placed their hands on it and smirked at her. After what seemed like an appalling length of time to have to stand there in the freezing cold without a cloak and with these men's hands resting, however sedately, on her bosom, the portkey finally activated, and she suddenly found herself standing on a square platform in the middle of the North Sea with nothing to see in any direction but churning water and a smallish boat tied up to the side of the platform.

The Aurors had shoved her onboard the boat and not bothered to help her up when she stumbled as the boat pitched to the side. She'd fallen on her left hip, hitting the side of her face against the rough planks of the deck and wrenching her shoulder rather painfully. Her escorts had laughed and let her lie there while they spoke to the three rather disreputable looking men who inhabited the boat.

"This here's Minerva McGonagall…murderess. They're expecting her at the island. All the information's already gone ahead of her. I doubt if she'll give you much trouble."

One of the men nodded and looked down at her with a big toothy grin. "Yeah, they been lookin' forward to this one comin'. Ain't got any woman prisoners anymore, you know. Plus, I think Andy had the old biddy in school. Thought it would be great fun to see her again."

All the men had chuckled nastily and leered down at Minerva, who'd curled up as best she could and looked away from them all, shivering uncontrollably in the intense cold. At this point, they'd picked her up off of the deck and thrust her into the back of the small cabin, which blessedly had a warming charm cast on it; then it had been but a matter of moments before the Aurors had stepped back onto the platform and, with a stiff salute, had vanished, and the boat had cast off and headed out into the choppy waves.

The trip from the platform out to Azkaban Fortress was only a matter of about a quarter of an hour, and the time flew by far too fast. Minerva had made the trip once before, many years ago, but that had seemed very different indeed. She'd accompanied Albus out to the prison to speak to a Death Eater who was being held there, early in Voldemort's first reign of terror. The dementors were still there then, and their distressing influence had been obvious even at quite a distance from the prison itself.

Now, as she squinted towards the distant horizon and began to watch the forbidding fortress thrust itself up out of the steel gray sea, she felt a smothering hopelessness descend on her once more, but this time she knew that it came from deep within herself, not from any outside source. Never, when she'd made that first trip to this forsaken place, did it ever occur to her that she might return someday as a prisoner. How had she ever come to this?

Before long, the boat moved inside a huge cavern that opened into the side of the sheer cliffs that ringed the island. Minerva watched forlornly as, after they'd cruised inside the torch lit chamber, immense metal doors slid into place behind them, blocking out the meager daylight and casting her into a twilight hell.

Once the boat had stopped and been secured to its mooring, one of the men grasped her by the arm and hauled her to her feet.

"Welcome to your new home, my lady. I certainly hope you enjoy your stay here with us." The tall gaunt man grinned toothily down at her and laughed maliciously. "We're all going to enjoy having you, that's for sure. Even if you are rather scrawny…and older than my granny."

Minerva shivered at the leering look in his eyes, as it suddenly occurred to her what a precarious position she was in as the only female prisoner on an island populated by what appeared to be a large number of rather unscrupulous men.

One of the others, a fat, heavily bearded man frowned at the tall one and spoke a word of caution. "Careful, Roy. We've got to play by the rules, you know. We don't know what her status is yet. Let me take her up to processing. Andy's expecting her."

Roy frowned at his heavy companion. "I can do it, Clyde. I need to stretch my legs, and don't worry, she'll arrive in good shape…mostly."

Clyde crossed his arms. "Andy knows the boat's docked, Roy. It's your hide if she isn't taken directly to him."

Roy's complexion went a shade paler under his layer of grime. "I know," he said shortly. "Come on." He turned to Minerva once more and pulled her along with him as fast as his long legs could carry him.

Once off the boat, they walked through a maze of dark, narrow corridors, past row after row of damp looking cells, some empty…some not. Minerva fearfully peered through grime encrusted bars into one or two of those with occupants as they passed, but could only catch fleeting glimpses of dirty, hopeless faces, most of which never glanced her way at all.

Every step that she took inside this horrid place just made her feel worse and worse. She thought that she'd been prepared for what she'd face here, but she was now coming to realize that she'd been wrong about that. Very, very wrong.

After awhile, it appeared that they'd climbed far enough up through the fortress to begin to have narrow, drafty windows appear here and there, letting gray watery light in to mix with the smoky torches that sputtered and flickered in the icy breezes every few feet along the passageways. Roy continued to pull Minerva roughly along with him, but his steps had slowed some, and he kept casting appraising glances her way as if trying to decide whether he should do something or not. Minerva was very much afraid that she knew what he was contemplating, and she hoped desperately that he'd listen to the other man's warning and simply take her to where she was supposed to be taken.

Finally, Roy stopped outside a plain wooden door. Minerva expected him to open it and for them to then go inside together, but instead, he pushed her up against the cold, damp stones of the wall beside it and grasped at her breast with a greasy hand. He kneaded the soft flesh beneath her garments with a slightly surprised look on his face as his own quite angular body pressed avidly against her own.

"Well, now," he murmured softly against her ear. "You ain't quite as bony as you look, are you?"

Her mouth had gone dry as dust when her back hit the wall, and her heart began to pound with fear as he continued to fondle her and press against her. Then, just as she thought he was about to pull up her skirt and try to assault her, he roughly pulled back and frowned down at her.

Without another word, he yanked open the door and shoved her into the room. She stumbled but managed to catch herself without falling, fortunately. She wasn't sure how many more blows to her head she could take in one day. As she straightened up, she found herself in a small stone room containing only a roughly hewn table with a folded pile of dark cloth on top of it, and a single chair. Sitting in the chair was a wiry balding man of middle years who smirked broadly at her and stood up.

"Well, well, Professor McGonagall. Fancy meeting you here of all places. Do you remember me? Granted, it's been a few years, but I sure as hell remember you."

Minerva frowned. "As a matter of fact, I do remember you. Andrew Pitt, isn't it?"

The man smiled even more broadly. "Now I am flattered. Who'd have guessed that you'd remember little old me after all these years?"

Then as if the sun went behind a sudden cloud, his smile faded and a frown took its place. He addressed the tall man who still stood in the doorway. "You can go about your business now, Roy. I'll handle her from here on out. Just send up a couple of guards to take her to her cell. There's no rush though. Tell them to wait outside until I call. The Professor and I need some time to get…reacquainted." The sharp sneer that had crept into his tone caused a shiver to speed down Minerva's spine.

Roy nodded and with a final speculative glance at Minerva, he turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Pitt now turned and walked around his prisoner in a wide circle assessing her condition, taking note of the marks of abuse on her face, the disheveled hair and the few rips in her gown that her rough treatment so far had produced. "Hmm…I'll admit that when I heard you were coming here, I thought at first that it must be a mistake." His voice was soft and sneering. "Surely the high and mighty Minerva McGonagall wouldn't ever break the law, and certainly she wouldn't commit murder, oh, no, indeed. But apparently, I was wrong. Yes, apparently during all those years when you were strutting around Hogwarts, turning your nose up at everything me and my buddies did, you were actually being the biggest hypocrite of all. Isn't that right…Professor?" He slurred the word insultingly and snapped it at her face.

Minerva really didn't know how to answer him, so she simply stood there and stared calmly back at him waiting to see what would happen next.

"Nothing to say to that, huh? Well, you won't be keeping that superior, better than thou attitude for long around here." Swiftly, the man pulled his wand from a sleeve holster and aimed it at her. With a muttered spell, he removed the binders that had held her hands behind her back. With a sense of relief, she brought her hands around in front of her body and tried to rub some feeling back into them.

"Okay, Professor, now that your hands are free, use them. Take off your clothes." He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at her.

Instinctively, Minerva glanced around at the empty room, though she knew that there was no place to go to attain any privacy. "Here?" she asked.

Pitt barked a short ugly laugh. "Yes, here, Professor. Prisoners don't get to keep their clothing when they come here. Nor do they get fancy dressing rooms to change in."

He walked across the room and picked up the pile of folded material that turned out to be a rough, shapeless brown robe, and folded up inside was a pair of brown leather slippers. He waved the garments at her briefly and then carelessly tossed them back down onto the table.

"This is what you'll be wearing here. Now strip…or I'll do it for you."

Not having the slightest doubt that he meant every word he said, Minerva quickly divested herself of her robe, stockings and shoes, but when she then reached for the garments on the table, he slapped her hand and forced her to draw back.

"Oh no, Professor. When I said strip, I meant everything. You don't keep your soft, comfortable undergarments. No, indeed. You can keep the knickers, I suppose, for the moment, but nothing else. I want it all. Now." As she hesitated, he smiled. "You'll get everything back you know, for your trial. Of course, once you're found guilty…"

Minerva shivered at the thought that things could possibly get worse than they already were, but apparently there was some slight difference between the accused and the condemned here. And as horrid as her status was now, it would deteriorate even more once she'd actually been found guilty of her crime. Slowly, she averted her eyes from Andy Pitt and removed the rest of her clothing. As she drew her shift over her head and let it fall from nerveless fingers, his eyes gleamed but, surprisingly, he held his tongue.

As he watched closely, she picked up the shapeless brown robe, and slipped it over her head. Then she slid her thin feet into the uncomfortable slippers. Once she stood dressed in her prison attire, he nodded with satisfaction. "There now, that wasn't as bad as you thought it would be, was it? It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, I'll say that. You have a pretty good body for such a skinny old witch. Though it did seem to have quite a few bruises on it. Some of them were in very interesting places, too. Hey, when I was in school, we used to speculate all the time about whether or not you and old Dumbledore were sleeping together. Are you? Were those his "lovebites" on your body?"

The question caught her by surprise. It didn't really surprise her to think that students might be wondering about their professors' sex lives, but she certainly never expected the topic to come up here, under these conditions. Idly, she wondered what he'd say if he knew that her lover was actually one of his former schoolmates, a younger schoolmate at that. With a sigh, she straightened up and stared haughtily at Pitt. "That's not any of your business, Mr. Pitt."

"Hmmm… Well, you're wrong there. Anything that I choose to inquire about becomes my business here…Professor…and you'd do well to remember that. Though I suppose it's not as if it really matters now. If old "Addled Albus" is your lover, he's certainly out of luck from now on. He's probably out looking for a replacement as we speak." He chuckled at his own joke.

"Oh, and one more thing." He waved his wand at her head and all the pins that held her hair up vanished instantly; the heavy mass cascaded down her back and settled around her shoulders. "No hairpins."

He circled around behind her, grasped a handful of her hair and brought it up to his nose. Inhaling deeply, he smiled. "Lavender. A pity it won't be smelling so fragrant for long."

Suddenly, he grasped her chin roughly in his hand and wrenched her face around to his. "You're in my power here, Professor. When I say jump, you'd better do it immediately or the consequences won't be very nice ones. Have I made myself clear on this?"

Minerva nodded stiffly. Not an easy task with his fingers digging into the sides of her face.

"Excellent." He smiled and released her. "Now, for the final touch." He aimed his wand at her throat and stated calmly, "Regnare Bestia".

Instantly, a tight metal collar encircled her neck, and she felt a wave of weakness wash over her. She staggered and would perhaps have fallen if he hadn't grabbed her arm tightly and held her on her feet.

"Yes, it does seem to have quite a strong effect, doesn't it, Professor? We can't be having you doing your little feline impersonation around here, though. Cats who wander often end up dead. No pets allowed, you know. So, it's best to see that you stay in your cell. This little collar will assure that."

Hesitantly, she fingered the collar, which felt slightly warm to the touch, and glared wordlessly at her captor. There didn't really seem to be any point in responding.

With a final smirk, he dropped his hand away from her arm and turned to the door.

"Guard," he bellowed sharply.

At his yell, the door opened inward and two rather burly men entered.

Pitt moved away from Minerva and gestured to her casually. "Take her to cell number 869, McMurthy. It's time for the Professor to get a close up look at her new standard of living."

The guards chuckled and nodded. Then one of them reached out a hand and grabbed Minerva's arm, hauling her out the door into the corridor beyond. Once there, he put his hand in the middle of her back and shoved her to the left, stating roughly, "Get moving, missy."

And shivering with more than the cold, Minerva complied.

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Next Chapter: As Minerva faces her life in prison, those at Hogwarts begin to plan to get her released.