Thank you for the reviews on the last chapter!
Minerva chapter now, to start a fairly important subplot.
Chapter Nine: Gryffindor's Shame
Minerva mopped at her eyes. They were watering badly, a combination of the poor light around her and the long day she'd had. Once again, she suffered the temptation to go back to the Headmaster's office—her office, now, though she still hadn't got used to that—and curl up to get some sleep. Merlin knew she had plenty of her own affairs to occupy her aboveground. There were the teachers to reassure, the Transfiguration courses to arrange, candidates for the various positions held open for her to interview, the papers to placate…
But none of that was as urgent as the work that had brought her down here, she reminded herself, and so she straightened her shoulders and plowed forward. The plop of water echoed in the distance. Minerva tried to imagine exactly where she was in relation to the castle above her, and could not.
She walked a long, sloping tunnel that sometimes stayed level but mostly led irresistibly down and down. It had begun behind a door in the Headmaster's office. Minerva didn't recognize it, didn't remember ever hearing Albus speak of it, and had immediately become suspicious. The first thing she concluded was that it led to more of the Headmaster's mischief. And then she had, on first stepping into it, felt the tingle of wards around her.
The wards weren't the same as they should have been, though. They were tangled, tattered, broken. They didn't reach out to her, but tried to lash and score her face, at least until Minerva drew out the silver Headmistress's badge she'd taken to wearing at her throat. Then they subsided and lay around her with a snarl.
Minerva immediately began following the tunnel.
She paused to lick her dry lips and readjust her grip on her wand. She hadn't cast a Lumos spell, since that could dangerously reveal her position to an enemy, but a ball of light that bobbed several feet ahead of her. As always, Minerva studied the floor for a sign of holes or weakening.
She'd just started to move forward when she stopped, nose twitching. Sometimes, when she concentrated, she could use a cat's heightened senses even in human form, and her nose was telling her there was something in front of her now.
Devil's Snare, she thought, and waved her wand. "Finite Incantatem!"
That caught her ball of light, dispelling it, but should also have taken care of the glamour that covered the plant. As Minerva conjured more light, she nodded in grim recognition of the mass of green tendrils, which swayed towards her as though starved.
Albus put this here to ensnare anyone who dared walk the path. Now I am more certain than ever that he did something wrong down here, and wanted no one else to know about it.
"Incendio!" Minerva said, and the flames ripped into the Devil's Snare, which coiled hastily away, leaving her a clear path through. Minerva edged down the path, and halted on the other side with a little laugh. Impossible as it seemed when the Headmaster had been arrested for child abuse and he had left Merlin-knew-what troubles around for her to fix, she felt younger than she had in ten years.
At least something like this requires skills I know I have, she thought, as she marched forward. Not trying to think of what people want me to say other than the truth. That had been the most frustrating part of dealing with the newspaper reporters, as they continually begged her to give them details about the child abuse that did not actually exist.
Or details that Minerva had no intention of releasing. Harry's pale face flashed before her eyes most of the time now, and so did Severus Snape's almost equally haggard one. Even knowing he had sent an incredibly naked account to the Ministry, Minerva saw no need to imitate him. Honeywhistle and the rest could find the grist for their evil mills elsewhere.
The tunnel curved around a large pillar. Minerva floated her ball of light out of the way this time, and once again cast Finite at the carved stone. It shuddered, and flickered, and then several deep blue lights came into being on it.
Minerva studied them from a safe distance, frowning. Most spells that produced blue light were pale blue, for no reasons Minerva knew (the Color Theorists at St. Mungo's were apt to babble on for hours about them, but Minerva had never listened). This was a deep, glinting blue, rather like the cobalt cups that Minerva's mother had used at the table when she was a girl.
She took one step nearer, and then another, defensive spells poised on the tip of her tongue.
Nothing happened until she got nearer the pillar, and then it was only a slight gasp and a widening of her eyes. She could see, now, that wards or spells clinging about the pillar did not cast the blue light. Instead, it came from several triangular stones, each as large as a fist, buried deeply in the pillar itself.
Minerva knew the stones by sight, but only from the pages of books. She had never assumed that she would have a chance to see them face-to… well, rock. Supposedly, they were so valuable that wizarding society had used them up long ago.
And, somehow, she had never thought that she would be seeing them face-to-rock after the Headmaster had been accused of child abuse, though if there was one place the rocks might still be in use, it was Hogwarts.
Minerva counted the stones now, silently, walking around the pillar a few times to be sure that she had them all. Yes. For all their brilliance, there were only four of them. One was carved with an open book, one a narrow design that looked like a valley cut between mountains, and the one lowest down on the pillar showed a strange device, somewhere between a wand and a sword.
The one nearest the top showed a sleeping cat.
Minerva swallowed. Granted, she was taking a risk, and she didn't know if the instinctive associations she had given the gems would help.
But she was a Gryffindor, and she was Headmistress, and she was desperate to protect her school and make up for the shame of her House that Albus had incurred on it.
She reached up and pressed her palm to the stone carved with the cat.
There came a long, deep moan, a rushing wind that gathered up speed and music as it swept along. Minerva stood still as the wind wrapped around her body, chilling her skin, sinking under her clothes. Then the pillar and the tunnel began to move, a circling, stately dance as proud as a snake's.
Minerva went along for the ride, telling herself that she was a Gryffindor, and Gryffindors were not made afraid as easily as all that.
Pressing into her mind, though, was the reminder that she hadn't told anyone where she was going, exactly the kind of carelessness she would have scolded one of her students for.
The dance stopped at last, and Minerva opened her eyes. She was not surprised to find herself in a different place entirely. No one had ever said that anchor-stones were ordinary, and one of their properties was bringing the living person in the web into contact with the dead.
Minerva stepped back, able to remove her hand from the cat's stone only now. She looked around, wondering who would meet her. She had a good idea of whom the other anchor-stones indicated, but any of them might choose to respond.
Or no one, she reminded herself. In that case, she was certain she could touch the cat's stone and transport herself back through the pillar.
Well, fairly certain, at least.
A golden light burst into being in front of her, illuminating the round, bare cavern. Well, it would have been bare to most people in Hogwarts. Now that she was Headmistress, Minerva could see all the wards, even the ones that had been slow or reluctant to respond to her so far. And this room was covered with them, blending into messy knots from which still more lines of wards led forth.
This was the anchor in more than one way, Minerva realized then. This was the room where the wards all came together, forming Hogwarts's base, the web of webs.
The golden light was separate from the wards, though. It rolled together like the ball of flame a phoenix created in appearing, and then solidified and shimmered, bright as molten metal. Minerva had to shield her eyes until the light abruptly dimmed, and an anxious, male voice said, "Oh, dear. I see that matters have changed from the last time I was here."
Minerva looked up. In front of her stood an older wizard, though his white beard still bore a trace of gold. His robes were golden and red, and worked down their seams with the same wand-and-sword design as one of the anchor-stones. He had green eyes worn by the years, but they stared at her with strong, clear intelligence.
"Godric Gryffindor," she said, because she needed the reassurance, even though she knew it must be.
He nodded. "Or a part of him," he said. "I trust that you understand how anchor-stones work?"
"This is a ghost or a dream of you," said Minerva, with a wave of her hand. "A—a record, of you as you were at a certain point in your life. Left to guard the school and to help the Headmasters of Hogwarts." She was astonishing herself with her own calm speech. Well, perhaps it was to be expected. She had gone a little beyond shock when the wards tried to attack her.
Godric nodded. "The others who remain with you, as you probably surmised, are Helga and Rowena." A flash of anger crossed his face. "Salazar was still here when we bound some of our spirits to protect the school, but he wouldn't agree to do it. Something about never leaving part of himself behind, lest an enemy could get hold of it." Godric shrugged. "But Salazar was always paranoid. You're new, Headmistress. I think your name is—"
"Minerva McGonagall." Minerva lifted her head proudly.
"Ah." Godric nodded. "I remember a Headmaster McGonagall, about the middle of the sixteenth century. A good man."
"One of my ancestors," Minerva acknowledged. "I need to know how much you know about the recent power transfer between Albus Dumbledore and myself, sir. I found one of the anchor-stones carved with a cat, but—"
"We're only magical constructs, really," Godric interrupted. "The school takes care of transforming the stones when it accepts a new Headmaster or Headmistress. No, I don't know much, but your appearing so suddenly like this, and not being prepared to find us, isn't a good sign. Usually, the Headmaster comes with his successor and shows him or her all the secrets of Hogwarts's tunnels at one time. What happened to Albus Dumbledore?"
Minerva sighed and bowed her head. This would take some explaining.
As quietly as she could, she narrated the plan of sacrifice she now understood Albus to have been pursuing, and why he had pursued it. She made sure to mention how Gryffindor Albus had been, and how he found a Lord-level child in Slytherin an impossible concept to come to terms with, assuming that the child would of course become another Dark Lord. She explained the abuse he had inflicted—as much as she understood; she had not yet forced herself all the way through Severus's records—and why she had come rather abruptly into her own office.
Godric was silent when she was done, though Minerva could not tell what he was thinking, since he had turned his back on her. He walked over to the far side of the cavern, and then abruptly swore and lashed out with one foot. It sank into the wall. Minerva winced as she might have if he had actually contacted something and bruised his skin. I hope that I never have to bind part of myself to an anchor-stone. It must be frustrating to want to rage, and not be able to hit anything.
Godric turned back around, his green eyes absolutely burning with fury. "He was Gryffindor," he said.
Minerva simply nodded, deciding that Godric would probably come to the same conclusions she had.
"He was Gryffindor, and he did this," Godric went on, his voice rising. He stalked back and forth. Minerva studied his boots, and saw that they skimmed the floor, but she no longer thought he was solid. More likely, it was just conscious practice that kept them there, since Godric was a different kind of ghost. "What kind of shame has he brought down on our House? How are we going to recover our reputation, teach the others to trust us again?" He looked at her. "You're Gryffindor, aren't you? Most of the McGonagalls have been."
Minerva nodded again.
"They're going to distrust Gryffindors as they once distrusted Slytherins," Godric whispered, and then laughed harshly. "What kind of world is it where someone who follows my principles abuses children and someone who follows Salazar's principles is only interested in freedom?"
"One I need your help to navigate," said Minerva, seizing what she felt was her best chance. "I know that something is still wrong with the wards; they did not transfer to me as smoothly as they should have when Albus was taken out of power. Can you guide me to the place where the tangling originates from?" She took one more look around the cavern. "All of them here seem neat and smoothly braided."
Godric stilled for a moment. Then he said, "Of course I will. It is partly my doing that this happened, after all." He turned towards a corner of the cavern, beckoning for her to follow him.
"Partly your doing?" Minerva frowned as she walked, paying as much attention to the walls as to what she was saying. There seemed to be no door or any evidence of entrance elsewhere than the pillar. She hoped it wasn't a door that ghosts could get through, but which she was condemned to linger behind. "I don't think it is. I want to recover the reputation of Gryffindor as much as you do, but you aren't responsible for the behavior of everyone in your House."
"I am for this," said Godric softly. "Some years ago, the Headmaster came to me, and said that he needed to alter the defenses of the school in order to protect the students better. I accepted that, of course, and showed him how to do it. Now I worry that I gave him the key to a door I should never have opened." He gestured, and the stone in front of them vanished.
Minerva stared. What appeared to be a sheer staircase of white stone soared upward before her, gleaming in the fall of a shaft of sunlight from somewhere high above. Diamond dust, or particles of what looked like it, circled in the air. Minerva shook her head and looked at Godric. "I don't understand. Are we outside?"
"Not exactly," said Godric, and indicated another anchor-stone embedded in the rock at the foot of the staircase, so deeply that Minerva had not even noticed its deep blue glow next to the steps themselves. "Just as you can bind a dead wizard's essence to one of these stones, you can bind the essence of a dead place. Create nearly inaccessible boltholes, because, after all, you're escaping into the past—but it's a past cut off from everyone else, so that you don't need to chance meeting yourself like you do with a Time-Turner." He held his hand out to Minerva, who hesitantly laid her palm in it, and found to her shock that his fingers were solid. "This was once part of the home where I was born," he added simply. "I showed it to Albus because no one could get into it unless I was holding their hand. I couldn't think of a better place for the altered defenses of the school to rest."
Minerva took the first step up the staircase. It trembled at her weight, and then emitted a shining, shrill note. Minerva trembled back, and shook her head as they climbed higher and higher into the shaft of sun. This was like a dream of Light, and she could not imagine what the home beyond the staircase would look like.
It was as marvelous as she'd hoped. They were still indoors, she saw when the staircase played out, but the house was made of the same white stone as the steps themselves, polished planes that captured light and then breathed it back out in softened but still dazzling bursts. Minerva found herself standing on a broad floor of flat flags, with a gleam of green and gold through distant windows. The green was not the deep, poisonous color of Slytherin, but the fierce color of living trees. The air around her breathed warmth like the height of summer. Minerva could see other pillars and intricate, shining silver and white artifacts sitting tamely on the floor, just waiting for someone to pick them up and use them to create beautiful things.
"This way," Godric murmured, and swept on across the floor, in the direction of one of the pillars. Minerva followed, still looking around in wonder. This was one of those wizarding places she had dreamed about, she thought, the ones from the days of wild magic and fey tales. Then, the Light had been the minority faction, with more wizards holding allegiance to the wild Dark magic that danced on Walpurgis Night. Midsummer rituals were small and sacred but intense, things of great power, and Light wizards created their homes as bastions of civilization, dedicated to the careful keeping and preserving of valuable artifacts and books—not things to be destroyed as many Dark artifacts were, the moment their owners lost interest in them.
The Light can hurt others—Albus has proven that—but it can also create and hold beauty, Minerva thought proudly.
She heard a distant chime, like angry music, and frowned. Before she could ask Godric about it, he said, "Ah. Here," and stepped aide from one of the pillars in particular.
Minerva blinked. It wasn't a pillar at all, as she had first assumed from its upright position in a corner of the room, but a statue of Albus. He looked as he had when he strode across battlefields to fight Voldemort, clad in white robes and Light. He had a hand held up as though to calm an excited crowd, and his eyes, made of blue stones that Minerva didn't think were sapphires, gleamed with wisdom and intelligence.
And all about him curled the wards of Hogwarts, diving into his body at various points and then sliding outward again, as though he were a fly caught in the midst of a spider's web. Minerva thought he was more likely to be the spider in this particular web than the prey, though.
"He made himself necessary to them," said Godric quietly. "That's why the wards are attacking you. He made it so that no other Headmaster would be able to take his place in Hogwarts unless he approved them and was willing to transfer the control of the wards to them. There are enormous holes in the defenses right now because he's not there. And it's only going to get worse."
Minerva closed her eyes. Even with everything she already knew about Albus, how far he had fallen from the ideals she had once believed him to hold, this hurt. She could believe better that he had a particular enmity for Slytherin children with Lord-level power than she could believe that he would want his other students to suffer if something happened to him.
"Why does the school recognize me at all?" she asked.
"Because he did not bind all the wards," said Godric. "I think, now, that he didn't ask for that because I would have got curious and asked too many questions back. He left enough free to convince you, or anyone else who followed him, that you had complete control of Hogwarts. But it's not true. The deeper defenses are decaying. He planned it so that would happen if he were killed or removed from power."
Minerva shook her head. "And if he'd died of old age?"
"Then I believe the wards would have transferred smoothly, because that's a natural death." She looked at Godric to see him shrugging. "What he didn't want was anyone to have the same amount of power he did, and to make Hogwarts utterly dependent on him. He believed that he was the best one to protect it." A flash of bitterness darted across the Founder's face. "He told me that, when I helped him create this statue. I didn't listen to where he put the emphases of his words, or I might have known something was off."
He took a deep breath, tugged on his beard, and then met her eyes. "You're the rightful successor to Albus Dumbledore, and more than that, I think you're someone who will try to set this to rights. 'Go to a McGonagall if you want bloody-minded stubbornness,'" he said, as though quoting someone. Before Minerva could insist that he tell her who had said that, Godric continued, "And I want to help restore the reputation of the school, and of my House, and of the Light. I'd even like to help this young Lord you describe, if only to make up for the wrong Albus did him." He paused, his hands tapping at nothing, and then said, "This is going to sound like an odd question, but I can't keep myself from asking it. Call me a foolish optimist."
"I would never call you foolish, sir," said Minerva, with a faint smile, and waited.
Godric cleared his throat. "Has this boy—Harry, you said that was his name—spoken at all about being vates? Freeing the magical creatures, and trying to foresee paths by which they can live in peace with wizards and witches?"
Minerva stared at him.
"I told you it was an odd question," said Godric defensively.
"I—that is, yes, he has." Minerva shook her head. "I didn't know that anyone else would think anything of it, so I didn't mention it in my recitation to you."
Godric nodded. "Then I am more determined than ever to help him," he said. "In one way, and one way alone, I think Albus was right to be wary of the boy. Lords do change the world, and they can do it without regard for the people around them. Albus was like that himself. But if this Harry Potter is thinking of others…then I want to help." He sighed, staring into the middle distance. "My dearest ambition, at one point, was to be a vates. But I couldn't. I wasn't strong enough. I managed to achieve some remarkable things with dear Helga and Rowena, and even Salazar, when he was still with us, but that was always in cooperation. And none of the others quite agreed with me about freeing the magical creatures, or which ones should be freed." He glanced at Minerva. "And now—do you think Potter will pause until all the magical creatures are freed?"
"Not unless some of them tell him that they want to remain slaves," said Minerva, thinking of the way the Many snakes had come into Hogwarts' Great Hall the day of the spring equinox. "He has freed Dementors that I know of, and a breed of snakes called the Many, and even the unicorns." She had been able to feel the absence of the unicorns the moment she ascended into her position as Headmistress, though it had taken her a few days to figure out what it was.
Godric clenched his hands in front of him. "Then I am glad that you came and found me," he said fiercely. "Albus has brought shame upon our House, but we have a chance to reverse it, and in the best way, by helping someone truly worthy of help."
Minerva eyed the statue. "And what do we do about this? Can I simply transfer the wards to myself?"
Godric sighed, deflating again. "No. I'm afraid not. Some of the spells that surround and protect this statue are ones that only Albus can undo. Besides, we don't want you to be central to the wards in the way that he was. What if you fall in battle? That leaves Hogwarts unprotected again."
Minerva nodded. "And, as of yet, I do not have a Deputy Headmaster picked out." She knew whom she was going to ask, but delicacy required that she wait a little while. "Very well. Then what would you suggest we do?"
"Coax the school."
Minerva frowned at him.
Godric flushed a bit. "Ah. Excuse me. That would be Helga's term for it. She believed that Hogwarts was a living thing. That was one reason she never agreed with me about trying to act as a cooperative vates. She was more interested in magical plants and buildings than magical creatures. She meant that you have to coax Hogwarts to trust you as you would any wild thing. It's been hurt by its Headmaster. It needs to see that you care."
"And?" Minerva prompted. "How do I do that?" She couldn't help thinking that Godric Gryffindor would have been an irritating professor. Students wanted to know things, learn them, or at least the best of them, like Hermione Granger, did. They didn't want endless digressions around the subject of their interest.
Godric blinked at her, then flushed more deeply. "Ah. Excuse me," he repeated. "Talk to the wards. Walk through the tunnels. Get to know them. Think often and forcefully of what you plan to do. Show the school that you don't blame it. Don't resist any wards that come and attach themselves to you. Find specific holes and repair them." He nodded. "That will do for a start. Meanwhile, I'll work on removing the protections I put on this blasted statue. It should start decaying naturally, until it reaches the point where only Albus's power is sustaining it. Then we'll call on Helga and Rowena. They're watching right now, you know."
He chuckled as Minerva glanced suspiciously around the house. "They're less proactive than I am, and they attend other aspects of Hogwarts than the wards," he explained. "Plus, you're not one of theirs. They'll approach when they feel the time is right. Show them you can be trusted, Minerva, and I have no doubts that they'll eventually warm up to you. They need to be coaxed like wild creatures, too," he added, raising his voice.
A book materialized over his head and fell towards him. Godric dodged it, laughing.
Minerva shook her head. "You're more informal than I thought you would be," she observed, unable to stop herself.
"I've been modified by contact with the Headmasters and Headmistresses over the centuries, of course," said Godric mildly. His face darkened for a moment. "Even Albus taught me much," he muttered. Then he recovered his poise. "I'm looking forward to what you can teach me." He held out a hand. "Come. I'll take you back to the entrance where the anchor-stones are."
Minerva sat up primly when the visitor she'd expected knocked on her door. She'd had a few hours to get over meeting one of the Four Founders of Hogwarts, and to reconcile herself to the extent of Albus's treachery and betrayal, the evidence that he really had trusted no one but himself to do even basic things like protecting the school. The one she faced now had his own griefs to bear, though she intended to distract him in part by asking him to take up extra duties. She would be calm and kind and implacable.
"Come in," she called.
Severus entered and took the chair opposite her, looking more than ever like a bird of ill omen. Minerva had learned to look past the menacing exterior the first year he taught at Hogwarts, though. She stared into his face, and saw the slightly sunken state of his eyes and cheeks, the way he glared at the desk and not at her, and the tight press of his teeth behind his lips.
Losing Harry like this has been harder than he would admit to himself. Minerva knew he had received a letter from Harry the other day, and had written back, but Harry was evidently unwilling as yet to come to Hogwarts and trust himself to Severus's guardianship. That would tell on him. Minerva was sure that he loved the boy like a son, for all that Severus would deny it furiously if asked.
That is one way it's better to be a Gryffindor, she thought. We can tell the truth straight out, without all of this Slytherin lying and dodging, and then we don't look foolish when we're caught in a lie.
"Severus," she said. "I asked you here to become my Deputy Headmaster."
Severus jolted, and then stared at her. Minerva stared back at him.
"I always suspected that it was the office itself that caused Albus to go mad," he said at last, his voice grating and rasping. "Now I have proof. You are mad, Minerva. You cannot mean this."
"Yes, I do," said Minerva. And not only because it will force you to think about other things than Harry, which Merlin knows you need. "I know what you've given up, Severus. Do you know what that says to me?"
"That I am an idiot?" Severus was back to glaring at the desk. "That I should never think of ever having a child, when they would act like this?"
"That you are determined to do the right thing before all else," said Minerva, choking her own impulse to snap at Severus for his self-pity. She would have done it without hesitation when they were colleagues, but she had some authority over him now, and she had to use it properly. "And that indicates a man I could trust to become Headmaster, if I died or was forced to retire. We have endured enough betrayals. I want you by my side, Severus, because I know that you will never stab me in the back."
Severus stared at her. Minerva waited for some mocking remark about how she should never trust a Slytherin not to backstab.
Instead, he murmured, "What have you learned?"
Minerva told him, wondering if he realized that by hearing these secrets, he was essentially committing himself. Severus didn't show any awareness of it, but, as his face grew steadily darker and his eyes glittered with anger, as he came more to life than he had since Albus was arrested, Minerva was sure that she had made the right decision. This was a man who valued the good more than his own life or his own pride.
"So you'll take the position, then," she said, as he got up.
Severus gave her a steady, unblinking stare. "You are right," he said finally.
Minerva raised her eyebrows.
"I can believe that the Hat almost put you in Slytherin now," said Severus, and swept out of the room, which was answer enough.
Minerva leaned back and smiled. She could enjoy the brief glow of pleasure over a victory before she tackled the next problem.
"Do you see? I told you that you would be a leader."
Minerva whipped around. In the corner of her office, near the door that led into the lower levels of the castle, stood the same cloaked figure who had introduced herself as Acies once before. She still smelled of smoke and fire, but now also of something else, Minerva thought, working her nose. Life, and spring, and light.
"Who are you?" Minerva demanded, as she had before.
"Someone you'll be seeing soon," said Acies, in an infuriatingly calm tone. "And someone who has a message for you. Listen. This is what Professor Trelawney told Headmaster Dumbledore on a tower a few weeks ago.
"Three on three the old one coils,
Three in its times, three in its choices,
It bears his rivals to silence and stillness,
And the wild Darkness laughs, and the Light rejoices.
"Two on two the storms that are coming,
Two for the day, and two for the year,
The storm of darkness when no moon will shine,
And the storm of light that will blaze most fiercely here.
"One on one all the prophecies bear down,
One is their center, and one is their heart,
And from my mouth comes no Divination again
Except those prophecies in which he has a part."
"And what does that mean?" Minerva demanded, though she was already trying to work it out. The thing that seemed clearest was that she could count on Sybill making more prophecies. She wrinkled her nose.
"I don't know everything yet," said Acies. "I thought you should know this." This time, the shadow of enormous wings appeared to stretch around her before she vanished, and Minerva had a distinct impression of wild eyes staring at her.
Minerva sat back, and shook her head. She was weary already of prophecies and the notion of working with one of them, but she had a core of iron determination under the reluctance.
I will not mess this up as Albus messed his chance up.