Prologue: Advice from Albus

Not for the first time, Minerva McGonagall, seventy-four years young and headmistress to boot, was falling victim to a strong feeling of impending doom. In all her years at Hogwarts, she had dealt with many an emergency, and mostly considered herself quite levelheaded, but she (and not for lack of trying) could not comprehend the ridiculousness of what the Minister of Magic was asking her to instate.

'It's only for this month,' he reasoned, 'and not every student will participate, you know, it's really a small fraction of the entire'-

'I don't care how many students it involves!' Surely Rufus Scrimgeour, her old accomplice, was under some sort of enchantment; after all that had happened in the past year, there was no way he could suggest this- this absurdity! 'What the parents will say, you have no inkling.'

'I have already spoken with a quite large number of parents on this very same issue,' said Rufus, with a tone of explaining the simplest of matters to the simplest of people, 'and they are nothing but supportive. Now, Minerva, just take the papers and mull it over, please. I have other matters to attend to with far more importance than this.'

'I am sure,' she said, trying not to let an undertone of sarcasm enter her voice. It's not as if there were dark wizards to hunt; no, they had left that to the teen-agers.

'Yes,' said the Minister absently, glancing shiftily at the portrait in the corner of the room of a familiar old wizard with a long white beard, who seemed to be sleeping, although his eyeballs were twitching suspiciously behind his half-moon glasses. 'Well- it's been a pleasure, Minerva, a real delight. Hope to see you sometime soon.' With that, he Dissaparated.

'Not too soon, I hope,' said Minerva bitterly, who glanced at the stack of papers she had just been handed. Would she sleep tonight?

Sighing, the headmistress sized up the large pile of paperwork. A good two hours, at least, it would take her to sort out this mess.

'If I may be of assistance,' said a voice from across the room.

Looking up, Professor McGonagall discovered that the portrait of the old wizard was gazing at her with a bemused expression on his ancient, lined face. 'Albus,' she said. 'I thought you were-'

'I may have dozed off,' the wizard called Albus said promptly, 'But only for a minute. I did, unfortunately, miss most of your conversation with the Minister. If you would care to enlighten?'

'I fear I may be too embarrassed to tell you,' Minerva said, hating the Minister, the Ministry, the world.

'Ah, so Rufus is instigating changes in schooling? That is quite an irritating habit of his colleagues,' Albus mused, almost to himself, his eyes in the upper-right corner of his frame.

'Yes, well, wait until you get the gist of this one!' Minerva's eyes were blazing, her skin flushed. 'Some cock-and-bull plan for Inter-House unity! As if we need Slytherins getting cozy with Gryffindors, not after-' She paused, looking at Albus with fear in her gaze. 'Well, anyway, he wants a select group of students- four from each house, incidentally, and they are supposed to 'live in cohabitation' for a month, whatever that means, and do teamwork exercises, and it's all this big competition, and the winner gets one thousand Galleons!' Minerva paused to gulp for air, she had said all this very fast. 'And- and it's just ridiculous, I know you'll agree, don't understand why he's even bothered to come and…Why are you looking like that?' For she had noticed that the man in the frame, blue eyes twinkling, was smiling. 'Stop it, it's not funny!'

'Oh, no, Minerva, I wouldn't dare say it was funny,' said Albus, 'Not in the slightest.'

'Then why are you smiling?' This man confused her, he often did before his death, and he did even more now.

'Only because you are exactly as you were over sixty years ago when I tried to teach you Transfiguration,' said Albus, his countenance hazy with reminiscence. 'Stubborn as an ox, you are, never let yourself look at anything with an open mind. I fear you have distrusted the Ministry so much that it has turned into habit, whether willingly or not I do not know.'

'So,' said Minerva, beginning to catch the ex-headmaster's point, 'you're saying that you approve of this?'

'I'm not saying anything,' he said purposefully, steepling his fingers and closing his eyes. 'It is much too late for that, and some of us have paperwork to do.'

'Have it your way, then,' McGonagall said, pulling the tower of impossibly boring paperwork toward her. It was incredible how much power this man, this man who had taught her as a fourteen-year-old girl, was able to enforce without enforcing anything at all.

She couldn't help thinking, though, how interesting it would be to see how things panned out, really. It was bound to be interesting, wasn't it, the brave, the clever, the cunning, and the loyal, all living in the same house. Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, together as the founders had intended. Who knows, it might, just might, even work.