Author's Note: Sorry, sorry, sorry! I'd tell you why it took so long but you wouldn't care. Anyone who is spectacularly interested in my reason for not updating can contact me and I'll tell them. Otherwise, here's the update. Next one shouldn't take nearly as long. (Again: I am very sorry.)
12:32PM
- Great Hall -
"Guess what happened to Delores?" Pomona asked gleefully as she took her seat.
"Unless it was painful, I don't want to know." Snape commented without even looking up from his meal. Minerva was inclined to agree. She was eating a large plate of delectable lasagne and she didn't want Delores Umbridge ruining that for her without even being there. The woman should at least have to be present before being irritating.
"Well… she was publicly humiliated. Does that count?"
Snape exchanged a look with Minerva. Both hesitated a few moments before surrendering and looking up at Professor Sprout. "All right," Minerva conceded. "What happened?"
"Our resident poltergeist burst a sewage line above her head during the Hufflepuff Fourth year's lesson." Pomona informed them, clearly expecting a positive response.
Minerva's only response was a quiet "Hmm" before she turned back to her lunch. Severus seemed to take a more academic approach. He placed his knife and fork down on his plate, next to his steak pie and looked thoughtfully at Professor Sprout. "Burst? How ever did he manage that I wonder?" he asked carefully.
Pomona shrugged indifferently. "Threw things at the wall until it was exposed and then threw a chair leg at it during her lesson." she said simply. "Quite ingenious really. Oh is that fresh lasagne?"
"No I mean… the plumbing system in Hogwarts, with the exception of Myrtle's bathroom, is safeguarded. How did he manage it? He would have needed a teacher to let down the protective-"
Minerva choked on her lasagne. Trust Snape to be the only other teacher in the building to have paid any attention to Hogwarts; A History. Since Minerva McGonagall was most certainly not the type of person to choke on her lasagne, it tended to call the attention of everyone in the near vicinity when she did. Both Severus and Pomona turned to regard her at once, with their eyebrows already raised.
"Something you'd like to share Minerva?" Pomona asked cheekily.
Minerva's only response was a swift glare. Severus opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by a high-pitched cackle from above. It was one of the few times Minerva found herself feeling intensely grateful for the fact that Hogwarts had a resident Poltergeist. Not the only time, but certainly one of the few.
Peeves swept into the room through the open oak doors, his bell-covered hat jingling merrily. The first years who had been responsible for the open door cringed visibly, clearly expecting to get blamed for whatever chaos was about to ensue. They were probably right. First years had a certain propensity to get the blame for such things, while older students in the same position were looked on as victims in the entire affair. Such was life, Minerva supposed. After all, in a few short months the students in question would be the very ones to persecute the first years.
The Poltergeist, however, was what was drawing most of Minerva's attention. He held in his hands Delores's Glorified Booster Seat (or 'Intimidation Aid' or whatever the Ministry Approved term for the hideous little thing was). The cushion was distinctly more stuffed than it had been last time Minerva had spotted her. It was also releasing thick green smoke at an alarming rate. "Well I told him to be inventive." she murmured.
"What was that?" Pomona asked her.
Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, Minerva didn't get the chance to respond. Peeves dropped the cushion, sending it flying up the centre of the Great Hall. It came to halt directly under the Headmistress's chair, where thick viridian smoke continued to billow out of it ominously. Minerva had spent enough time around Bill and Charlie Weasley to know what this meant, and actually found herself silently thanking God for the fact that Fred and George had considered it 'cliché'.
As Peeves flew off cackling madly, several things happened at once. Auriga Sinistra entered the hall via the antechamber, Pomona Sprout leant in to inspect the stuffed cushion more closely, and Minerva raised her wand, muttering a quick "Protego" beneath her breath while Professor Snape did the same by her side. Less than a second later, the cushion detonated. Or rather, the Leaping Lunch potion inside the cushion detonated.
Leaping Lunch was a Zonko's product. More specifically, it was a mercifully forgotten Zonko's product which had not been popular in years. The product tagline claimed it was concocted from "The Stuff That Makes Jumping Beans Jump!" which, when translated into everyday application, meant it made any and all food stuffs it came in contact with bounce around the room with horrifying enthusiasm. Minerva was willing to bet good money Peeves had mixed some other things in there with it as well.
Thick green smoke flooded the room, until it was completely impossible to see more than three centimetres in front of one's face; which was causing enough panic as it was ("Oh no! I've gone blind!" "You haven't gone blind you idiot, we're being attacked by the military." "Oh that's all… wait. What? OH GOD WE'RE BEING ATTACKED BY THE MILITARY!" "Teehee. Hufflepuffs are so gullible…" "He was in Slytherin." "He was?" "Yep, seventh year." "Oh dear lord, the future of the Wizarding world is doomed.") The very instant the concoction came in contact with the food, however, things got infinitely worse…
"Argh!"
"Argh!"
"Professor!"
"What is tha- ARGH!"
"Oh God!"
"What's happening?"
"Help!"
Squelching sounds, slapping sounds, thumping sounds and cries of alarm were immediately heard throughout the Great Hall as the children's food began attacking them. Minerva heard her lasagne smacking against her Shield Charm but couldn't see a thing. Why on Earth a Shield Charm couldn't keep thick green smoke out when it easily kept rabid lasagne out was a question she resolved to ponder at a later date.
Severus yelled out for the students to calm themselves, but between their shock at the dense gas and their anger with the food that was hurling itself at their persons, few students seemed to listen to him. They apparently decided that increased hostility towards their classmates for allegedly throwing food at them was an altogether more productive use of their time. As was more or less expected. People did have a tendency to attack each other under such circumstances, after all. It was all quite wearisome.
"Hey! Don't throw your food at me you prat!"
"I didn't- HEY! Don't throw that at me!"
And so began the suspicion. Minerva groaned. It happened every time someone released one of those bloody things. Everyone assumed it was their friends and enemies lobbing food at them. Within a few minutes…
"Gah! I'll teach you to throw things at me you little twerp! Fernunculus!"
"Densaugeo!"
"Rictusempra!"
When in doubt, students at a magical school had a slight inclination to throw jinxes around with careless abandon. Though how on Earth they intended the jinxes to hit home in a room zero visibility was quite beyond Minerva.
"Don't you dare throw that… URGH! Avis!"
"Oh great." Snape muttered darkly beside her. "There weren't enough curses and foodstuffs flying through the air, now some idiot had to conjure birds."
Yelps of fear, surprise and annoyance were heard throughout the Great Hall along with cries of "What's happening?" "Are we under attack?" and, Minerva's personal favourite, "Oh God it's You-Know-Who!" Dumbledore and Harry Potter's word wasn't enough to convince them but a flying pasta sauce left the good students of Hogwarts utterly convinced that Lord Voldemort was after them. Bizarre, it was truly bizarre.
Minerva pushed out her chair sharply and attempted to get to her feet, hearing Snape do the same beside her. Her intention was to calm and soothe her students before escorting them out of the Great Hall in an organised manner. Regrettably, her left foot came down firmly on top of something pulpous. Her foot slipped out from under her and she crashed to the floor with a bang.
There was, however, some level of compensation. On her right, Severus Snape did exactly the same. Ha. Take that Teacher Dignity.
A loud, feminine 'Oomph' made it clear that Severus had landed on top of someone, rather than just the floor. Minerva smirked to herself, even as her posterior began to throb in pain after having connected solidly with the flagstone. Severus had made a bigger prat out of himself than she had out of herself. So ha.
"Who is that?" Auriga asked nervously.
"Who's who?" Minerva queried, clueless as to what was going on.
"Who's on top of me?"
"That would be me." Severus clarified huffily, obviously trying to return to his feet and failing quite spectacularly. Auriga made a startled noise and also began trying to clamour to her feet. A loud bang indicated that both had gone crashing to the floor once again. Minerva swore under her breath, cursing her luck. If Snape and Sinistra were being ridiculous, then she should at least be able to see it, surely. It was one of the joys of working at Hogwarts. Muttering to herself vehemently about the unfairness of life in general, Minerva pulled herself upright. Over the din currently emanating from the confused students, she heard the sounds of more meals thudding against her Shield Charm.
The smoke had yet to dissipate, which at least clarified what Peeves had done to the Leaping Lunch Potion. Usually it was absorbed by the food, but the Poltergeist had apparently decided that making everyone practically blind would be more amusing. Finally getting herself into a standing position, Minerva cast a quick cleaning spell on her robes to remove anything she may have landed in on the floor. Beside her, Snape and Sinistra were still attempting to get up, 'attempting' being the operative word ("Get off of my legs you overgrown-bat!" "Would you stay still you twit?" "Urgh! Just get off me you bastard!").
Annoyed, Minerva pointed her wand at her throat, thinking 'Sonorus'.
"BE SILENT! ALL OF YOU!" she bellowed, in a magically magnified voice. The effect was instantaneous; everyone shut up and the only remaining noise was that of the bouncing food and the various conjured creatures around the room. She returned her voice to the normal level, feeling her point had been made. "Wands away, at once! All of you move slowly towards the doors and attempt to keep food, animals and smoke in the Great Hall. Remain in the Entrance Hall until I say otherwise! Now!"
Minerva heard the sounds of students shuffling steadily towards the exit. It occurred to her that she was very grateful Fred and George Weasley had left, as they almost certainly would have locked the doors.
The teachers, for their part, were shuffling towards the antechamber. "Professor Sprout? Could you help me in the Entrance Hall?" Minerva asked blindly, hoping she'd directed the question in the general direction of the Herbology teacher.
"Of course Minerva." Pomona responded, indicating that Minerva had been successful. Now they only had to reach the Entrance Hall in one piece.
As a flock of penguins waddled past her feet, Minerva realise it might be easier said than done.
12:42 PM
- Entrance Hall-
It took the two of them nearly five whole minutes to navigate their way across the Great Hall. What with the innumerable chairs littering the floor, the indescribable chaos flying around their heads and the occasional student found lurking behind in hopes of causing more mayhem. Minerva found herself quickly redefining the word 'melee' in her mind, by the time she finally emerged in the Entrance Hall.
She also sincerely hoped she looked more professional that Pomona did. The Herbology teacher's hair was a wild mess about her face while something resembling pesto sauce dripped down her cheek and a fair amount of gravy had taken up residence on her robes. At least Minerva knew her hair was still in place and that she didn't have any food over her. God Bless Shield Charms, she thought as she regarded the hundred or so students around her that had been covered from head-to-toe with their lunch.
"Harper! Get over here!" she snapped. Charlie Harper, the little twerp responsible for her pathetically small amount of sleep the previous night, stood practically to attention and scurried over to her.
"Yes Professor McGonagall?" he asked nervously.
Minerva nodded at the Great Hall. "Would you go and fetch our dear Headmistress and ask her to take care of that?" she asked dryly. "I doubt we have the authority." she added. Harper grinned, nodded, and took off at once, leaping the stairs two at a time.
The students around the Hall were looking shell-shocked. Most were staring at the (still rattling and rather ominous sounding) Great Hall as though it were a ticking bomb. Minerva found it oddly amusing that they were looking at it that way after the bomb, as it were, had already blown. She exchanged a significant look with Pomona and the two of them inched closer together casually.
"You may all return to your dormitories to change your robes and clean up!" Pomona called to group. "But if even one of you misses your afternoon classes you'll be in detention for a week and lose one hundred points, do you hear me?"
A general murmur of agreement ran through the crowd before they began to disperse. Minerva tried not to roll her eyes, as Draco Malfoy stared blatantly at Daphne Greengrass's pumpkin-juice-soaked robes. She tried not to curse anyone was she saw Pansy Parkinson glare at him, glare at Greengrass, and then come up with some insult or another that made Daphne blush.
"Stop your dallying Miss Parkinson!" she snapped. "Ten points from Slytherin for holding up the school." Parkinson glared some more but did as instructed, scurrying off down to the Slytherin dungeons with her Winged Monkeys close by, gossiping spitefully.
Minerva did roll her eyes then, but swiftly turned her attentions back to her partner in crime. As the crowd thinned increasingly, Pomona and Minerva came closer and closer together. "Unfortunate that most of the school hasn't had their lunch yet, isn't it?" Pomona commented quietly.
"Hmm. Quite." Minerva agreed in the same low, conspiratorial tone. "And even more unfortunate when you think of how upset they'll be to discover Peeves has rendered the Great Hall off-limits for the rest of the afternoon." she added.
Pomona's eyes lit up. "The rest of the afternoon?" she asked. "And how to you propose Peeves managed to ensure that?"
Minerva raised an eyebrow. "Do you remember James Potter's first day as Head Boy?" she asked innocently.
Pomona grinned. "I'll cover you."
Minerva nodded and strode confidently over to the giant oak doors. Under the pretence of placing various locks and warning charms on them, officially declaring the area off-limits for students, she stuck her wand through the gigantic keyhole. "Esto perpetue." she hissed. To her extreme alarm, Peeves' head appeared through the door, inches away from her own head.
She glared at him. He beamed at her. "Naughty, naughty, Miss Professor Miss!" he taunted before flying off cackling again. Really, Minerva thought darkly, he had to stop doing that. Besides, extending the life of a spell (or in this case, several spells) wasn't really all that terrible. The spell would have existed with or without her input she was just… er… maximising it.
All in all, she thought with satisfaction, it had been a rather gratifying lunch. She straightened her shawl and her hat before turning around. A red-faced Delores was huffing down the stairs after Charlie Harper, who gave her a big thumbs-up. Minerva glared at him threateningly. "Mister Harper, you are dismissed." she said coolly. His cheerfulness did not appear to wane in the slightest as a result of this however.
"What… (wheeze)… What is… (cough)… What is going on here!" she demanded.
Minerva shot her a disdainful look. "I'll let Professor Sprout explain." she said contemptuously. "If you'll excuse me, I must check on my colleagues." She swept past the unkempt Headmistress and headed for the small antechamber which she knew held most of her dishevelled co-workers. She heard Delores splutter with indignation behind her.
12:46 PM
-The Antechamber of Contention-
Minerva entered the room, expecting to see a few people cleaning themselves off and straightening up before evening classes, while simultaneously complaining about Peeves and congratulating him. She did not expect to see two of her respected (well… semi-respected) colleagues hurling abuse at each other across the room while the other teachers started a betting pool in the corner.
"What is going on here?" she asked Professor Vector.
The Arithmancy Professor tore her gaze away from where Snape and Sinistra were glowering, just long enough to beam at Minerva. "Well-" And that was as far as she got before the yelling got too loud to speak over.
"I was merely saying that you, as a fully-grown adult, should be able to defend yourself against flying vegetables!" Snape hissed.
"Tomatoes are a fruit, not a vegetable." Sinistra informed him sanctimoniously, the effect somewhat ruined by the tomato pulp dripping from her hair. "Besides, for a man who claims to be able to defend against such things, you were on the receiving end of quite a few entrees, yourself."
Snape sneered. "I defended myself perfectly, thank you. It is only due to your complete lack of balance and precision that I have a morsel of food on my person, Auriga."
"MY lack of balance and precision?" Sinistra cried. "MINE? You fell on me, you smug son of a-"
"Yes, yes. I highly believable story, were you to deliver it to the denser Hufflepuffs. Really Auriga. Statistically speaking you're barely capable of staying upright for more than fifteen seconds at a time." Snape told her arrogantly.
Sinistra's face turned a delicate shade of crimson. "Why you lying pile of-"
Minerva realised she shouldn't say anything. She realised that any Snape/Sinistra fight that already had a betting pool going on for it was likely beyond the point of no-return. And she even realised that they'd go on fighting whether she contributed or not. But she still felt compelled to comment.
"Actually Professor Snape?" she interrupted.
Both Snape and Sinistra's head snapped around to face her. Beside her, Minerva heard Professor Vector mutter "Quick, avert your gaze! We're out of Mandrakes!" but ignored her.
"Well I just felt the need to contribute that I was actually standing next to you when you fell on top of Auriga." she stated, supremely unaffected by Snape's venomous glare. "It was quite distinctly your fault."
"Ha!" Sinistra exclaimed triumphantly. "Hear that? When YOU fell on ME. Reliable witness."
Snape sent McGonagall one last look of malice before turning back to Sinistra. "Reliable witness or not, the fact remains that you should be able to protect yourself against fruit."
"I can defend myself against fruit!"
"Well your hair tells a different story Auriga." Snape informed her smoothly.
"I can!"
"So you say. Tell me; is it rather like defending oneself against iguanas?"
"Oh for heavens sake! It's been five years! Will you ever let that go?"
"Doubtful."
"You ornery scumbag!" Sinistra growled. "God! Why don't you just go eat puppydogs or make first years cry or something?"
"I only made that girl cry once! Why do people fixate on it?"
"Because it's a fine example of you showing what a loathsome snake you really are."
"Listen you vile wench-"
"Malignant worm-"
"Rabid shrew-"
Minerva shook her head and turned back to Vector who was cackling silently. Snape and Sinistra had a tendency to live with their claws at each other's throat. So much so that the betting pool was now basically pre-arranged.
"Usual bets?" she asked Vector, who nodded in response while refusing to take her eyes off the couple in front of her. "I've got five galleons on Sinistra being the first to cause actual harm, with Snape being the first one to say something verging on sexual-harassment."
"That brings the total pot to thirteen galleons and six sickles." Vector told her, still not looking away. Minerva made a noise of agreement and made for the exit, fighting off a smirk at the increasingly foul language behind her. The two of them were so delightfully insane.
1: 02 PM
-Private Office-
Minerva entered her office and was surprised to note the presence of someone else already there. Someone who, happily, was most certainly not Delores Umbridge, despite her recent propensity to pop in unannounced. Damnable woman.
"Miss Brown?" Minerva enquired.
Lavender Brown turned to face the doorway. She'd been sitting in Minerva's visitor seat with her back to the door; however she was easily distinguished by her glittering bangles and sparkling earrings. Though, Minerva was pleased to note, the girl still appeared distinctly more down-to-Earth than Sibyll Trelawney. For the moment.
"Oh… er… hi Professor McGonagall. I um…" she stammered, blushing with embarrassment. "I um…" she paused and took a deep breath as Minerva pulled the door closed and moved towards her desk.
"Miss Brown, calm yourself." she said simply, taking her seat. "Now, what can I do for you?
"Well, that's the thing Professor." she said nervously. "It's more what I can do for you. Um…" she sighed and leant back in her chair. "Look, Professor I know my last homework assignment was less-than-great."
There's an understatement, Minerva thought scathingly. She immediately reprimanded herself, thinking that Lavender Brown was only a semi-educated adolescent after all. She could not be held as accountable for her more idiotic acts as, say for example, Professor Lockhart. Who upon their first meeting had thought that an Animagus was "Some sort of fetish", he hastened to add that he was perfectly comfortable with it and wouldn't treat Minerva any differently than a normal human being. She nearly flinched at the memory before she remembered Miss Brown's presence.
"I'll admit it was rather substandard." Minerva commented equitably. "Far below your usual level of work. Any particular reason?"
Lavender looked away, muttering something about how hard the Fifth Year Coursework was. Minerva frowned. Lavender had been working steadily throughout the year. All right, she wasn't a brilliant student, but she was hardly abominable either. And she often complained that the latest year's workload was impossible to keep up with, at least until she got used to it (which usually occurred just before the summer holidays, when it was largely useless anyway as her workload would increase exponentially from that point on). What caught Minerva's attention was simply the fact that, now she actually thought about it, Lavender had been doing very well with her work so far that year, as had most of the members of the so-called "Dumbledore's Army".
Her official theory was that they had known that if their schoolwork had gotten the better of them, they would no longer be learning how to protect themselves. Nor would they have the opportunity to jinx Zacharias Smith which had to be a contributing factor in the enthusiasm with which they regarded the club in Minerva's considered opinion.
Minerva put on her Less-Stern Face. It was the closest she got to a Nice Face in front of students. "Miss Brown, is there something you'd like to tell me?" she asked the nervous youth in front of her.
Lavender looked resolutely at the floor. "Um… no Professor. I just wanted to apologise is all."
Minerva began sifting through her memories, trying to pinpoint Lavender's marks over the past year in her mind. When at last she did, resisted the urge to smack herself. "Well then, would you at least care to tell me why your marks have been steadily slipping since March?" she asked, not expecting an answer.
The girl's only response was to make a quiet 'ah' noise and fix her gaze even more firmly on her shoes. Minerva continued; "I understand if certain… extra-curricular activities were eating into your study time." she probed. "Pressure from other subjects, participation in, ah, additional tutoring groups…" she watched the girl carefully. "Tending to the needs of some of your old professors perhaps?"
Lavender's eyes widened. She began stammering incoherently about how she hadn't the faintest idea what Minerva could possibly be referring to. It occurred to Minerva that she should ask Professor Snape to teach Miss Brown how to lie effectively, as she was clearly in need of some tutoring on the subject.
She clasped her hands and placed them on her desk. "I understand that you and Miss Patil have been caring for Professor Trelawney since her dismissal, yes?" she asked sharply.
Lavender opened her mouth but no sound came out. She closed it again and nodded meekly.
"Very well. And might I inquire as to how much of your time this takes up?" Minerva pressed.
"Oh not too much." Lavender assured her weakly. "I mean… well, I'm sort of doing most of it since Parvati's parents have been pressuring her about her marks lately. And um… well I've been researching Divination on my own since Professor Firenze is a bit, you know, vague. And Professor Trelawney has been very…er… helpful."
Minerva seriously doubted that Sybill had been helpful to anyone over the past few months, but politely refrained from saying so. Several things began to make sense. Such as how on Earth the North Tower had managed to stay so perfectly organised, how Sybill had yet to fall off aforementioned tower in one of her more drunken episodes, and how Sybill had managed to stay (comparatively) out of trouble except during class time. When, Minerva now realised, she didn't have Lavender or Parvati looking out for her. How desperately depressing, she thought, that the students should have to care for the teacher's well-being.
"Miss Brown, when did you write your most recent report?" she asked in a tone which made it perfectly clear she expected to be answered truthfully and promptly.
Lavender winced. "Last night." she admitted.
"It was given to you last month."
"I know! And I meant to do it, I just…" she sighed and made a helpless gesture.
"What time?"
"What?"
"At what time last night did you do the report?" Minerva clarified.
"Um…" Lavender mumbled incoherently.
"Miss Brown?"
She winced again. "I started at eleven." she confessed. "But it was a bad night last night! Professor Trelawney was really upset and I…" she shrugged. "Well I had to stay with her until she went to sleep to make sure she didn't hurt herself or something."
Minerva almost did a double-take, but caught herself just in time. Given the time spent on it, and the fatigue she had no doubt felt, scraping an Acceptable on that homework report was actually extremely encouraging for Lavender. Similarly, she almost got up and hunted down Sybill Trelawney in order to "curse her a new one" (as Dennis Creevey was prone to saying). But she caught herself once again. What mattered at that particular moment was Lavender, not Minerva's anger with Sybill, whether it was righteous or not.
"Miss Brown," she said slowly. "I must request that you decrease the amount of time you spend… caring for Sybill Trelawney." Lavender immediately began to protest but Minerva cut her off. "You are not helping Sybill by doing everything for her. She is a grown woman and she should be able to care for herself, by preventing her from doing so you are making her dependant on you and Miss Patil."
Lavender looked worried. "But Professor… if I don't… I mean if she does something to hurt herself then Professor Umbridge could have her thrown out. And the castle's her home! She probably wouldn't even know how to live somewhere else after all this time!"
"Be that as it may," Minerva ground out. "You are a student Miss Brown. You are a child. Your Professors should be taking care of you, not the other way around."
She didn't seem to be able to argue with that point, and so Lavender returned to staring at her shoes. Minerva pressed on.
"Your marks have been suffering. And while certain circumstances have prevented me from giving my students the attention they deserve this year," Lavender smirked here, clearly understanding the 'circumstances' in question perfectly. "I would presume that your work in other subjects has been slipping as well."
The smirk disappeared completely. Instead an oddly resolute look flickered across her face before Lavender's expression became carefully blank. In Minerva's experience that meant that the student question was going to go on doing exactly what they were doing before, for whatever reasons they felt justified it.
Minerva sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "If I were able to arrange for someone else to attend to Sybill and ensure her continued health, would you and Miss Patil be able to focus on your schoolwork once more?" she asked in a tone of barely restrained disgust. Sybill Trelawney. She was talking about finding a babysitter for Sybill Trelawney. A fully grown woman. It was pathetic.
Lavender, however, didn't think so. "You can… You can do that?" she asked hopefully.
"I can. Well, I think I can. I'm not promising anything. Why don't you and Miss Patil come by tomorrow and we can discuss it at length then." Minerva said.
"But what about…" Lavender trailed off and gestured vaguely.
"Your class work?" Minerva asked. The girl nodded. "Well, your homework does not count towards your O.W.L. grade so I suppose it is of little consequence. I will however expect you to review the last few months work. I'm giving a surprise test next week, which I fully expect you to pass admirably. Understood?"
Lavender nodded. "But, um, if it's a surprise test then why are you telling me?"
"Because your circumstances are different to the rest of the class. That said- if you tell anyone you will be spending the rest of the term in detention."
"Got it." Lavender said with a weak smile.
"All right then." Minerva began gathering her things for her next class. "Miss Brown I would recommend that you eat a large dinner tonight, have a long hot bath, and go to bed early." she said in all seriousness. "After so long caring for others, it might be an idea to care for yourself."
Lavender sat there, staring at Minerva as though she'd grown horns and a tail. Her jaw was practically on the floor and the only noise in the room was the light patter or rain against the window.
Minerva raised her eyebrows, grabbed her things and made her way to the door. "Now if you'll excuse me Miss Brown, I have a class at one thirty. Close the door on your way out please. And remember that you have another homework assignment due in two weeks. I expect you to start on it this week. Good day."
And with that, the conversation was over.
1:35 PM
-Transfiguration Classroom-
Hufflepuffs were, as a rule, easy to teach.
While they weren't all geniuses, they all valued learning and respected others' desire to learn, which meant they all tended to shut up, read and do as they were told until such times as they had a question. True, some had more questions than others, and true, some had more moronic questions than others; but generally they were easy enough to teach. But there was that rare type of Hufflepuff who not only questioned every single aspect of the lesson, but also disagreed with vast swathes of it for seemingly no reason, other than to be disagreeable.
Zacharias Smith was one such Hufflepuff.
"How are Animagus forms assigned?" he asked curiously.
All right, Minerva conceded, she'd had worse questions than that. In fact she'd heard that one a good few times over the years. "Most theories suggest that the form an Animagus takes is based on their personality, as well as physical aspects that make up their being. For example if a human being had lost a finger, then their Animagus form would also be lacking a finger or claw."
"Are aspects of the animal's personality carried over to the Animagus then? Or does the Animagus already have a connection to the animal?" Smith continued. "Like, would they start to act more canine or something?"
Minerva had heard that one before too, though less often than the first. "I suppose it depends on your point of view. Other Animagi have told me that their behaviour has shifted somewhat to favour the animal since they became able to transform. I personally have not noticed any shift however." she told him patiently while the rest of the class watched on with mild interest.
"Oh." Smith seemed disappointed. "Well what can you do in your animal form?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean are you just a normal cat? Can you interact with other cats?"
"To a degree."
"And can you smell like a cat, and see like a cat, and stuff?"
"Yes."
"And can you…" Smith's eyes widened as a thought occurred to him. It struck Minerva that this was probably not a good sign, but despite herself she pressed him.
"Can I?"
"Can you have kittens!"
The class roared with laughter and Minerva nearly winced. She did not have to answer, however, as several people were already doing so.
"Don't be ridiculous, of course she can't!" a female voice cried out.
"But what if the father was another cat Animagus?"
"Then would they have kittens or would they have children?"
"Well they couldn't have children could they, they're cats!"
"Besides how likely would it be to find another cat Animagus?"
"What about a Kneazle, can she have kittens with a Kneazle?"
"Why a Kneazle?"
"Well it's a magical creature so maybe it can adapt better or something."
"What if she were a Tom instead of a female cat? Could she knock up some other cat and then transform back more easily?"
"What does it matter which gender she is?"
"Well she couldn't very well get pregnant with a litter of kittens and then turn back into a human, could she?"
"Why not?"
"What do you mean why not? I'll tell you why not! Because…"
Minerva took a seat and observed the interaction with vague amusement. True, she had a reputation for being able to control any class in school, but if she didn't let them discuss this now she would probably get homework assignments on it and she couldn't be bothered. Besides, who knew? Perhaps her sixth year Hufflepuffs would discover a medical breakthrough for Animagi everywhere.
"A cat can't be pregnant with a human baby you idiot! It'd probably explode for pity's sake!"
Then again, perhaps not.
2:17 PM
-Transfiguration Classroom-
After the Great Kitten Debate of 1996 died down, class went rather smoothly. During the debate it was generally agreed that Minerva could not have kittens. Or that if she did they would have to be fathered by another cat Animagus and that in the unlikely event of that happening the kittens would be super-intelligent, diabolical genius kittens who would take over the Earth with an army of tabbies, which they would control with poisoned cat-nip and mind-controlling feather toys.
Minerva honestly missed having the thought processes of a fifteen year old on occasions, as it would evidently be a lot more interesting than her own thoughts.
The class was doing theory work, which meant she didn't even have to prowl the room in search of grievously injured students. Instead she was marking the first year's homework. Euan Abercrombie had just explained the purpose of Untransfiguration when the door opened unexpectedly and Delores Umbridge waddled in.
Minerva immediately closed the file on her table, put her pen away and clasped her hands on the desk in front of her.
"Continue with your work." she told the class sharply. Quills immediately began scribbling away once again, even before Delores had made it over the threshold.
The (ahem) Headmistress eyed the quiet, studious room with surprise. Or was that envy? Minerva felt a fleeting sense of relief that Delores had not turned up when Betty Branstone and Christopher Stebbins had been discussing the likeliness of Minerva finding a nice, male, cat Animagus whom she wanted to breed with as it would have been unlikely to promote the same reaction.
"Is there something I can do for you Delores?" she asked without interest.
"Minerva, I was wondering if I might have a moment of your time?" Delores simpered.
"You are the Headmistress." Minerva said, by way of an agreement, since she certainly wouldn't be agreeing to it outright anytime soon.
"Oh…er. Well I meant outside. Away from the students, you understand."
No power on Earth was going to make students get back to work now and Minerva knew it. With a mildly irritated look she got to her feet and followed Delores outside. "Anyone who leaves their chair loses one hundred points." she added to the class, closing the door behind her.
2:19 PM
-Hallway-
Delores stood in front of the classroom door, blocking off Minerva's ability to re-enter her room. She supposed it was designed to be threatening, 'blocking off her exits' as it were. Delores seemed entirely unaware that Minerva could reduce her to the consistency of tapioca pudding with nothing more than a wave of her wand. Which was probably fortunate with regards to Minerva's job security, but not quite as fortunate when it came to exchanges suck as this.
She stood at her full height, looking down on Delores with barely disguised loathing. "May I help you?" she asked, in a tone which communicated the unsaid 'off a cliff' quite nicely.
Umbridge's face stretched into another sickening, simpering smile which made Minerva dearly wish to curse something. "Well Minerva," she said in a quiet voice that was barely audible. "The Ministry requires your presence in the Staff room."
"Do they really?" she said dully (and at a normal volume, might she add). "Well the Ministry will have to wait until three o'clock. I have a class waiting. Excuse me." She attempted to move past the hideous little toad, but she wouldn't move.
"Actually, Minerva, it wasn't a request." she smiled even wider. "The Ministry wishes to question you on the current whereabouts of Albus Dumbledore."
Had Minerva been so inclined, she would have thrown her head back and cackled right there. The idiotic woman actually thought Minerva had some vague idea where Dumbledore had got to. She was looking triumphant and everything, as though she'd cornered Minerva in some virtuoso plot of fiendish trickery. Deciding that her afternoon was looking more and more entertaining, Minerva nodded. She also did an admirable job of hiding her smile.
"Very well Delores." she agreed, the very picture of acquiescence. "If you'll give me a moment."
She stepped around the stubby little woman and opened the door to her classroom. "Class, you are dismissed. I expect you to read up to chapter seventeen by next lesson."
"That was not what I meant Minerva." Delores said bitterly. "I had intended to take over your class for the time being."
"Had you really? Well, how terribly disappointing for you. But never fret Delores; I'm sure you'll find some other way to occupy yourself. Cleaning up that dreadful mess in the Great Hall, perhaps?"
She just had time to see Delores look as though she'd been force-fed poison before she walked briskly down the hall.
2:25 PM
-Staff Room-
Minerva entered the Staff Room to see Aurors Darren Dawlish, Gottfried Proudfoot and Kingsley Shacklebolt sat waiting for her. They had their notebooks in hand and wands extended as though Lord Voldemort himself had just meandered in for a quick cuppa and a Ginger Newt. She sent them a pitying look and stalked over to the tea station, helping herself to a cup.
"Are you Minerva McGonagall?" Proudfoot demanded.
"No." Minerva said flatly, without turning back to face them.
"Er… no?" Proudfoot said, clearly uncertain how to react to this pronouncement.
"No. It's Celestina Warbeck in disguise, can't you tell?" Minerva could have sworn she heard Kingsley chuckle under his breath, but she chose not to dwell on it. Instead, she turned to face Dawlish and Proudfoot with her teacup in hand. "Really Gottfried, I was your teacher for seven years. If you have to ask who I am then I can only presume that your propensity to ask pointless questions has not vanished over the years." Proudfoot flushed slightly. "Pity." Minerva added sincerely. It really was the most annoying habit.
"Sorry Professor." he said, appearing chagrined. "We have to ask. Ministry regulations, you know."
"Hmm." Minerva commented doubtfully.
"Is that a wand at your waist Ma'am?" Dawlish asked her, with a hint of a threat in his voice.
"No, it's a chicken."
She'd never liked Darren Dawlish. He'd been in Slytherin, and he'd made Draco Malfoy look like a gentleman. And he didn't have any of the redeeming qualities that Draco Malfoy had. Nor did he have the excuse of being a rich pureblood who didn't know any better.
Darren Dawlish was, in Minerva's estimation, a prat.
She strongly suspected that the only reason he'd trained as an Auror in the first place was because he didn't quite have the heritage to be certain of a place amongst the Death Eaters nor, quite frankly, the backbone for such an undertaking. Which was saying something really, when you considered the cowards that were in the Dark Lords service. But as an Auror he got to wield a fair amount of power over a fair amount of people, and hardly anyone was going to question it. Minerva was dearly hoping he'd try to threaten her in the near future. He'd always been scared of her as a child and it would probably cheer her up quite a bit to terrorise him some more.
"Professor McGonagall," Dawlish ground out. Still using her correct title, she noted. Nice to see there was still some fear there. "If you are not going to cooperate with the Ministry in this matter-"
"I am perfectly prepared to cooperate with the Ministry, Mister Dawlish. However if the Ministry honestly feels the need to state the blindingly obvious at every turn then I'm afraid my cooperation will be uncongenial at best." Minerva practically felt her eyes glitter with unspoken malice. "I do not suffer fools lightly. Something you, of all people, should recall."
There was no denying the intense satisfaction she felt as Dawlish began shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, as though he were eleven years old once again.
Kingsley spoke up next, his mellifluous tones carrying easily across the room. "Professor McGonagall we mean no disrespect." he told her soothingly.
"We just… it is Ministry protocol to be specific about everything that happens during an interview." Proudfoot told her. He was clearly aiming for a soothing tone, similar to Kingsley's. He failed quite spectacularly and came across sounding as though he were suffering mild laryngitis. Minerva fought off an eye roll.
"Well then, let us be specific. I am currently holding in my hands a cup of tea, in my favourite white porcelain tea cup. It has a barely noticeable crack in the handle. I take my tea with a little milk and two sugars and at the time of saying this I have had about a sip and a half out of the cup. Was that, ah, specific enough for you Dawlish?" she asked in the sweetest tone she could.
While nobody answered her specifically, she did receive two glares and a grin for her efforts. Unaffected by all three reactions, Minerva made her way over to the couch and took a seat. In her mind she began debating whether she'd ever be able to finish marking that first year homework before the end of the day. True, she didn't have anymore classes scheduled. But for some reason Minerva doubted there would be many more gaps in her day. She sighed in frustration and took another sip of tea.
"Well then Professor, why don't we move onto the serious questions?" Proudfoot said briskly.
"Yes," a voice from the door said darkly. "Why don't we?"
2:30 PM
-Staff Room, again-
Minerva turned to see Severus Snape standing in the doorway, a look of blatant disgust upon his face. Minerva probably would have been intimidated, had she not been so unutterably delighted.
Behind Snape, Professors Flitwick and Sprout stood with their arms folded and glowers settled firmly on their faces. All the House Heads, Minerva noted. The four teachers the Ministry perceived as being closest to Dumbledore. Minerva smirked internally. She was amazed they hadn't nabbed Hagrid yet.
"Oh good." Kingsley greeted pleasantly. "You're here. Please make yourself comfortable Professors." He was glared at as well, but he appeared to care even less than Minerva did. She'd always liked Kingsley. He'd won Gryffindor the Quidditch Cup one year. An excellent Keeper. He was handsome too.
After a few moments of shifting around, the four Professors were completely at home. Or rather, Minerva, Filius and Pomona were completely at home, sitting on the couch opposite the three Aurors. Snape preferred to stand behind the Professors' couch, towering over the room. It was really quite reassuring, in a twisted sort of way, to have a skilled Death Eater (reformed Death Eater, ex-Death Eater, whatever) on your side when facing off against Aurors. Minerva wondered if they were available to be rented out.
This, in turn, led to some strange ponderings on whether Lord Voldemort himself was available as a chaperone, which consequently resulted in Minerva pondering just what The Dark Lord's livelihood was these days. She doubted he'd earned juicy enough commissions at Borgin and Burkes to retire so early. She resolved to add it to her list of "Things to Ponder at a Later Date" and began drinking her tea more purposefully.
She really needed more sleep before she had a day like today, she realised. Or at least more caffeine throughout aforementioned day, if she intended to function properly.
"Well, first of all, I suppose we should ask the big question." Dawlish said, putting a Dark Detector on the coffee table. "Do any of you know the current location of Albus Dumbledore?"
Minerva eyed the Dark Detector for a moment. It was high end, very expensive and almost infallible. She raised her eyebrows and then all four teachers answered at once.
"No."
"Nope."
"No idea."
"Sorry to disappoint you."
And then there was silence. The Dark Detector sat perfectly dormant, indicating complete honesty from the teachers, while all three Aurors appeared mildly irritated. Dawlish began adjusting the Dark Detector, apparently checking for flaws, while Proudfoot began reorganising his notes compulsively. Both seemed quite unwilling to believe that no one present had any idea about Dumbledore's whereabouts.
"Do, ah, any of you know the future location of Albus Dumbledore?" Proudfoot queried
"Not even vaguely."
"No."
"No."
"Well I presume he'll have to go to the bathroom at some point, but aside from that: No."
"Are you sure about that?"
"Yes."
"Indeed."
"Yes."
"Quite."
"Um… Do you each of you feel you have given Delores Umbridge your full cooperation in her endeavour to reform Hogwarts?" Proudfoot asked.
Minerva froze, staring at him as though he'd turned into a giant raccoon. Actually, she was a Transfiguration Professor; she probably would have considered him more normal had he done that. Trustworthy; she expected to be interviewed to see if she was trustworthy. Possibly interviewed to see if she was Queen of the Damned or something similarly frowned upon in polite Wizarding society. But nice? She was being interviewed to see if she was nice? That was under Ministry legislation now? God help her.
Apparently her co-workers were similarly confounded, as not one of them made a move to answer. The Aurors were watching them suspiciously. Eventually, Filius took the lead.
"Er… Define the term Full Cooperation?" he requested, looking thoroughly confused.
"Well, have you done all you can to make Professor Umbridge comfortable? Have you made it easy for her to do her job?"
"Er…"
Minerva exchanged a look with Pomona. Who exchanged a look with Filius. Who exchanged a look with Minerva. Then they all exchanged a look with Severus.
It was about that time that the Dark Detector started screaming bloody murder.
3:15 PM
- Staff Room-
"Well that could have gone worse." Professor Flitwick announced a few minutes after the Aurors left the room.
Minerva glared at him disdainfully. "How, pray tell, could that have gone worse, Filius?" she asked. "Barring one of us losing any semblance of control and stabbing Dawlish to death with a teaspoon, I mean."
"It wasn't that bad." Pomona placated. "At least they don't think we're involved in some illegal plot to overthrow the Ministry."
"No." Severus agreed dryly. "They just think we're raving lunatics."
Minerva sighed. "They can think whatever they wish of me. So long as they leave me alone for at least ten minutes. I've had a long day."
The door knocked less than a second after the words were out of her mouth. She glared at the door. Sure, it didn't look like much. It was made of old, worn, oak with creaky hinges and a tarnished handle. But in Minerva's mind it was the door, and the door alone, that was responsible for whatever was on the other side of it.
Everyone in the room was eyeing it with similar antipathy and suspicion, and for a moment the only sound to be heard was the ever-present rain on the window. There was palpable tension as they realised that there was something or someone on the other side of that door which actually needed attending to. Minerva supposed Delores had elongated many people's days around Hogwarts, resulting in fewer and fewer teachers having the energy to be vaguely pleasant. She had it on good authority, for example, that Professor Sinistra had made a Hufflepuff girl cry. Far from the usual guilt and discomfort this brought Auriga, she simply snapped at the girl for being ridiculous and gave her a detention.
If that wasn't a sign of Hogwarts coming apart at the seams, god knew what was. What made the tension even more apparent was that all four Heads of House were in the room. Surely, no matter who was there, one of them was going to draw the short straw.
Whoever it was knocked on the door again. Minerva snapped and got to her feet. "Oh come in already!" she called splenetically.
The door swung open and revealed a distinctly annoyed Ginny Weasley. It looked like Minerva got the short straw then. She quickly ran through her schedule in her head. The Gryffindor Fourth Years were in Defence Against the Dark Arts from three o'clock. This, combined with the hideous pink note in Miss Weasley's hands, allowed Minerva to take a wild guess at what was causing Weasley's vexation.
"Professor Umbridge says I should give this to you Professor." she practically growled as she made her way over to the couch. Minerva took the note from her hand and tapped it with her wand to unfurl it.
As she read it, the other teachers were watching the girl with something between pride, amusement and irritation. Well, except for Severus, who Minerva imagined was skipping the first two emotions and settling with the third. He had a tendency to do that with Gryffindor students.
Minerva folded up the note and regarded Miss Weasley. "You disrespected Professor Umbridge during class?"
"No." Ginny said sullenly. Minerva raised her eyebrows. Ginny rolled her eyes. "She mispronounced Cruciatus Curse." she muttered grudgingly. "I was merely… correcting her."
Despite herself, Minerva felt a small tug of amusement at that. "And?" she prompted.
"And…" Ginny rocked back and forth on her feet. Minerva wondered if she had any idea how very like Fred and George she was behaving. And Bill, come to think of it. "Well, um, Umbridge-"
"Professor Umbridge." Filius reprimanded lightly.
Ginny shrugged. "Yeah. Her." she agreed. "Well she said that she knew the subject better than me and that I should respect that fact. I casually mentioned that if that were true, she should know how to pronounce the Unforgivable Curses."
"Which was it she mispronounced? The proper title or the incantation?" Pomona asked curiously.
"Proper title." Ginny clarified. "She had no problem whatsoever with the incantation. Actually seemed comfortable with it." A small frown appeared on her face. "Hey, do you think I could get her arrested for yelling Crucio at me across a classroom?" she wondered aloud.
Minerva considered it seriously. True, she doubted it would work, but if she was able to have Delores locked up for threatening one of her students… "Did she have her wand out?" she asked. Ginny shook her head. "Oh. Well then no." Ginny looked crestfallen. Minerva went over the note in her mind again. "What was it about 'suggesting ludicrous candidates in her place'?" she asked.
Ginny cleared her throat and glanced around nervously. "Well… um…" she placed her hair behind her ears. "She started saying that she was the best qualified person for the job and then she got all smug about it and told me to name any other candidate who I thought would be more capable in the position."
Snape scoffed audibly. "If you suggested Potter you deserved to be sent out of the room." he muttered in an equally audible voice. In response, Minerva had the pleasure of seeing a Weasley scowl at Snape. Which was always entertaining when it occurred (which was, lets face it, fairly frequently).
Ginny folded her arms and glared daggers at him. "Actually, Professor, I suggested you." she told him coldly.
All right. Minerva had come to expect a lot of things from the Weasley clan: Red hair, freckles, violent temper, bizarre ability to get into trouble even without meaning to, and an inordinate fondness for Honeydukes were all on the list. Suggesting Snape would be a good Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, however, was quite unequivocally not on the list. Minerva felt her eyebrows rise in shock. After all, being possessed by Tom Riddle and slaughtering chickens was all fine and dandy so far as she was concerned… But this was just weird. Snape himself seemed rather shocked, which took a bit of doing.
Ginny turned back to face Minerva, appearing faintly irritated. "Look, with all due respect Professor McGonagall I was sort of hoping to get to the library and research something about Defence Against the Dark Arts that was actually… you know…" she gestured vaguely. "Useful."
Minerva nodded at her. "Very well. Delores seems to think your behaviour merit's a punishment so…"
She was saved the bother of finishing that sentence when Stuart Ackerley appeared in the doorway. "Er, Professor McGonagall?" he asked loudly. Minerva looked up at him, which he apparently took as a sign to continue. "Madam Pomfrey asked me to ask you to go to the Hospital Wing." he stated. "She says it's urgent." the barest flicker of a smile crossed his face. "It looks pretty urgent too. Cormac McLaggen is yelling a lot and clutching his… Well, er, he's in quite a state, Professor."
Minerva rolled her eyes and got to her feet. "Very well, Ackerley. You may go." the dark haired boy nodded, grinned, and disappeared. He was always so inordinately cheerful that boy. It was disconcerting, with a side of outright annoying.
Shaking her head slightly, Minerva turned back to face Ginny Weasley. Then she pointed at Severus. "Professor Snape is in charge of your punishment." she said simply.
She was already on her way out of the room before Severus could protest. Still, it would be interesting to see how much he could bring himself to punish a student for suggesting him for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position. It would be even more interesting when you considered the fact that the student in question was a young, female version of Fred Weasley, who was a star new player of Gryffindor Quidditch team and had been known to harbour a crush on Harry Potter. Yes, Minerva thought gleefully, it would be very interesting indeed to see how Severus would respond to this.
3:28 PM
-Hospital Wing-
She entered the Hospital Wing a mere five minutes after being summoned. It was surprising how much more quickly a person could travel when they actually wanted to reach their destination.
As she entered she noticed a long line of students leading into the back corner, behind a wall of curtains where she could only assume Madam Pomfrey was sitting. There were at least thirty students there though, and none of them were showing obvious signs of Skiving Snackboxes usage. In fact, to a man, they were nursing broken wrists and ankles, with the occasional bruised tailbone. She did not see Cormac McLaggen anywhere, nor did she hear yelling, but that was not top of her priorities at the moment.
She swooped down on the nearest students. The nearest students just so happened to be Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott. C'est la vie she supposed. "Nott! Malfoy!" she snapped. Both boys turned sharply to look at her, apparently tearing themselves away from a deeply interesting conversation wherein they appeared to be threatening each other. It was quite delightful really.
"Yes Professor McGonagall?" Nott enquired politely. Malfoy simply glared expectantly. She presumed he hadn't gotten over the hair slide incident yet, even though it felt like quite a while ago to her.
"What's going on here? How were you injured?"
"Greengrass." Malfoy replied instantly, with a nasty look at Nott. "She put a Glissante Charm on the East Hallway." he promptly clarified. "People have been slipping on it all day. Then a while ago the fifth year Slytherins and the third year Ravenclaws were running between classes, crashed into each other and this is the result."
An image of Professor Vector's grinning face as she cast that charm on the East Hallway burst into Minerva's mind. But since she could hardly tell Malfoy that she knew he was a lying little git because she'd actually been present when the charm was cast and knew that Daphne Greengrass had been nowhere in the vicinity, she instead settled for a hard look.
"And how exactly do you know that Miss Greengrass is responsible for this charm?" she asked.
"He doesn't." Nott said darkly. "He just likes trying to get her in trouble."
"That's slanderous Nott." Malfoy hissed in an undertone which he clearly thought was inaudible. "Perhaps I should give you a detention for saying such things about a respected member of the Inquisitorial Squad."
"Respected Member of the Inquisitorial Squad? Isn't that a contradiction in terms?" Nott shot back in the same undertone.
Minerva raised her hand to indicate that she was hearing them both perfectly well and that they would face her undeniable wrath if they continued. However in her mind she'd already awarded Theodore an extra five points on his homework. "Mister Malfoy, why do you believe Miss Greengrass cast this charm?" she repeated.
"Well because she was the only person in our class who wasn't there. She took the long way around to History of Magic."
"Yeah, to get away from you, you prat." Nott snapped.
Minerva sent a quelling glare his way. He clamped up, sharp-ish, and she returned her attention to Malfoy. "Coincidental evidence at best Malfoy."
Malfoy looked annoyed. "She's got the Charms ability." he continued in a petulant voice. "Probably the only one in our class who does."
"Well I'll be sure to tell Professor Flitwick about your high opinion of her." Minerva said coolly. "However it proves nothing. You may return to the line." Both boys did so without question.
Attempting to arrange her features into an innocent and vaguely bemused expression, Minerva began making her way to the front of the line. It was harder than she would have expected, as most students were being pretty militant about keeping their places. From what she could deduce there had been some pushing earlier, causing a sharp increase in hostility. By the time Minerva got there it was apparently every man for himself. In fact if she wasn't mistaken she could see a couple of third years holding an auction for their place near the front of the line. They seemed to be doing quite well.
Eventually though, she made it up to the curtained enclosure. Which, as it turned out, was not an enclosure at all. Rather it was one enclosure and one adjoining screen which hid those receiving treatment from view, as Madam Pomfrey saw to them. Rather than treat them at the nurses station, however, she was treating them from a conjured armchair by the actual enclosure. Bewilderingly enough, there was a romance novel on the arm of the chair and a long stick at her feet. A long pointed stick with a fairly firm handle.
Minerva quirked a brow at the Matron who indicated that she should wait a moment until the current student had been seen too. Regrettably the current student was Gregory Goyle and he had a bruised tailbone. Minerva strongly suspected the sight had scarred her for life.
"Right. That's you done Mister Goyle. Please tell the next person in line to wait a few moments until I come to see them." Poppy instructed crisply. She didn't like Mister Goyle. Nor did she like Mister Crabbe. She often complained that before those two had come to Hogwarts, she'd only had to cure a dozen broken noses over the years. The number had increased considerably in the previous five years however.
Predictably enough, Goyle grunted, pulled up his trousers and strode over to the front of the line to tell a terrified first year Slytherin not to move. It was a wonder the boy wasn't cursed more, in Minerva's opinion. As it would hardly be difficult to catch him off guard.
"You wanted to see me Poppy?" she enquired after the boy had left.
"Yes, yes I did." Poppy said wearily, getting to her feet. "It's about Mister McLaggen I'm afraid."
Minerva (barely) suppressed a groan. McLaggen had an unfortunate tendency to do stupid things. Either as part of a bet or, more frequently, because he thought he could. Minerva supposed he was of the opinion that it made him attractive to girls. And to certain girls it did; however it was these very same girls who became immediately disillusioned with him when they realised he was not, in fact, a brave Knight sent to rescue them; but rather a randy prat who'd eat his own arm off if he thought it would get him a date.
Not that Minerva was speaking ill of her students.
She was thinking ill of her students, and that was entirely permissible.
"What's he done this time?" Minerva sighed. Poppy opened her mouth to respond but was cut off by a loud, girlish scream from within the closed-off area.
With a small eye roll, Poppy stooped to pick up the long pointed stick that was at her feet. Minerva watched in stunned amazement as she poked it through the curtains and began viciously prodding whoever was screaming in there.
"Quiet! Quiet now! Don't you make me come in there!" She reared the stick back and jabbed it firmly into the curtained area. A loud yelp of pain sounded from within, but after this there was silence. Poppy made a satisfied noise and meandered over to the potions cabinet behind her chair. "That'll teach him." she muttered.
The only noise Minerva managed to make at this juncture was a fairly astounded. "Er…?"
Poppy didn't even look up from the potions cabinet. She simply waved her hand dismissively. "He's been doing it all afternoon, it's becoming ridiculous. You know I've had to go in there twice to stop him swallowing his tongue? Daft boy."
Minerva started stammering in spite of herself. "You mean… surely that's not… you were… That was a student?"
"Aha! Got you!" Poppy announced, triumphantly pulling out a dark green bottle before looking over to Minerva questioningly. "Sorry what was that?"
"That was a student? You've been prodding a student all afternoon? With that thing? You could've impaled them!" Minerva cried, alarmed.
Poppy, looking supremely unperturbed, began to measure out a quantity of whatever liquid was in the bottle. "Oh don't be silly Minerva. As I was saying earlier. Mister McLaggen has got himself into a bit of a situation. Even worse than the doxy eggs this time. He was in Herbology and, while I don't know the specifics involved, I do know that he ate nearly three hundred grams of Alihotsy leaves."
It immediately became apparent to Minerva that the Matron's decision to vacate the armchair was not for her own benefit, so much as Minerva's. To wit, she collapsed into the cushy chair and groaned to herself. "Oh he didn't?"
"He did." Poppy confirmed with a grim air. "He promptly became delirious, and was under the impression that Professor Sprout's ear muffs were out to get him. He then made a break for it into the forest where he was found twenty minutes later, stark naked and cowering behind a shrub."
Perhaps it was a sign that Minerva had been teaching at Hogwarts too long, or a sign that she was thoroughly jaded by this point, but the only thing that really surprised her about that statement was the fact that he'd been found in a mere twenty minutes. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she forced herself onto her feet again.
"All right. What's the recommended treatment?" she asked.
"Standard Anti-delirium potions. Three a day for a week, perhaps longer given the vast quantities ingested. Sleeping potions at night and bed rest after that." Poppy said in her usual, business-like tone before her manner softened a bit. "But Minerva if he doesn't stop this behaviour soon-"
"I know. I know." Minerva said. "You don't need to tell me. He's missed half his NEWT course already. I'll write to his parents." she sighed. "I'll tell them that if there's another incident like this we'll have to expel him. We can't have students going around harming themselves like this. Imagine what message he's sending to the first years."
Poppy looked as though she dearly wished to sit down and lament McLaggen for a good few hours. However she was prevented from doing just that by the sudden arrival of a harassed looking Demelza Robins. Her dark hair was flying around her face and, while she looked more accustomed to running around than Justin Finch-Fletchley, she hardly looked pleased.
"Professor McGonagall?" she greeted testily. "Professor Umbridge asked me to give this to you." she held out another pink monstrosity.
Minerva frowned at the girl. "Miss Robins, how many places have you been searching for me?"
"Er…" she frowned. "Well your classroom, your office, the staff room, and now here."
Roughly translated: half the castle. Typical. "Very well then. Five points to Gryffindor for dedication." Minerva said carelessly. "You may go."
Demelza smiled, turned on her heel and left.
Poppy raised her eyebrow. "Dedication?" she queried.
Minerva tapped the note with her wand and began to read. "Yes. Dedication." she replied candidly. "Had I been given a note like this at her age, I would've told the old goat to deliver the blasted thing herself."
The note was written in that appallingly curly, feminine handwriting and read: Minerva, your presence is requested in my office immediately. Signed, the Hogwarts High Inquisitor.
Poppy, who had been unabashedly reading over her shoulder, snorted with disgust. "She can't just sign a letter with her name, can she?" she muttered.
Minerva would have answered, but instead she made her goodbyes and swiftly made her way out of the room. She was fairly certain her right eye was beginning to twitch. Probably due to the stress and irritation factor of being bounced around from pillar to post by a woman with the fashion sense of a four year old, she reasoned. And so, with her hand twitching longingly for her wand for the millionth time that day, Minerva left the hospital wing and set off to meet Delores.
Again.
3:56 PM
-The Chintz Inferno-
It happened every time without fail. Every, single, time. She walked into Delores Umbridge's office and she suddenly felt the need to either vomit or kick something. Minerva was particularly offended by the fluffy white kittens that decorated the walls, with their assorted ribbons, and hats, and God-knew-what-else. They were, in her opinion, and insult to the feline species.
If she'd been being honest, Minerva had expected to walk in and see Potter sitting there with a sullen expression on his face. Or perhaps Lee Jordan. Maybe even, at a push, Victor Frobisher who had made it clear he would love nothing better than to curse Delores soundly. She had not been expecting to see Colin Creevey, sitting with his arms folded as he scowled out the window, occasionally shooting venomous glances at Delores.
As soon as he noticed Minerva, he scrambled to his feet and began babbling incoherently. She made out the phrases "Didn't mean anything by it" "Just a joke" "Reading too much into it" "Please Professor" and "That old toad". Minerva raised her hand for silence, gestured at Colin to take a seat, and looked past him to Delores.
"May I ask why I have been brought here?" she inquired coolly.
Delores's mouth stretched horribly into a sickly smile. "Why don't I show you Minerva?" she said in a breathless and saccharine tone. Minerva dearly wished to smack her. She got off her chair and waddled over to Minerva's feet, handing her something. Something which looked, bizarrely enough, like a calendar. She took it and glanced at it curiously. "Young Mister Creevey has been feeling creative." Delores commented.
Minerva honestly didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She held in her hands a calendar called "Voldie's Angels: A study of the Inquisitorial Squad and their connections with Death Eaters". She flicked through it idly. Draco Malfoy was Mister July. The picture was subtitled: "Draco Malfoy a.k.a. The Amazing Bouncing Ferret."
She looked up at Colin, who was turning pink but holding his head up high nonetheless. Staring between him and the calendar several times, Minerva tried to think of something to say. Regrettably the first thing that came to mind was; "How on Earth did you get a picture of Draco Malfoy being turned into a ferret?"
Judging by Delores's glare, this was not the response she'd been hoping for, but it was still a response. And she was genuinely curious since she knew for a fact that no photographs had been taken of the actual event. If they had been she would have stolen… that is, she would have confiscated them by now. Unlike Delores, Colin grinned. "Oh that was easy; all you need to do is get a picture of a ferret which is on the same scale as the original picture. You partially develop both pictures at the same time and then transfer the ferret into the other picture. Since both participants are already sentient enough to know that the other doesn't belong, they start to turn back and forth like-"
"MISTER CREEVEY SIT DOWN! And stop looking so pleased with yourself!" Delores snapped angrily.
Minerva was a bit disappointed. She'd been enjoying that. It showed that even though Colin was useless at Transfiguration, he certainly had other talents. Why, if he could doctor photographs already, the Daily Prophet would be wetting themselves to get his talents in a few years.
Colin did sit down. But he didn't stop looking pleased with himself.
An infuriated Delores turned her attentions back to Minerva. "Do you know what this is?" she whispered sharply, gesturing at the calendar.
Quirking a brow at the conspiratorial manner Delores was employing, Minerva skimmed through it again. "Yes. It's incomplete. He doesn't have a picture for Pansy Parkinson yet."
"This is slander! That's what it is!" Delores hissed.
Had she believed she could get away with rolling her eyes and kept her job intact, Minerva would have rolled her eyes and told the woman to get a grip. Or a life. Or possibly a date, had that suggestion not brought quite so many vile images to mind.
As it was, she responded in a low tone which Colin couldn't hear. "Delores you have not given me one single bit of evidence to suggest that Mister Creevey made this for anything more than personal use. As such it is not slander, so much as personal opinion."
"Is that so?" Delores asked, her beady little eyes narrowing. Sensing that the question was probably rhetorical, Minerva politely refrained from answering. She did, however, sigh a bit.
Delores waddled over to Colin, brandishing the calendar like a sword. "Mister Creevey! Was this calendar intended for mass production?" she demanded shrilly.
Colin looked slightly baffled for a second. Then a look of grim resolution appeared on his face, quite clearly indicating that he was about to answer with a firm 'Too right it was'. Fortunately, he glanced over at Minerva first. She shook her head firmly. "Er… no."
Delores balked. "No! What do you mean No?" Minerva wondered vaguely why all Umbridge's confrontations with students went along these lines. She also wondered what would happen if herself and Dumbledore had agreed to let all the students go nuts and do whatever they pleased to the puffed-up old crone. The images the suggestion brought to mind were really quite satisfying.
"Was this for personal use then?" she asked Colin leisurely.
He nodded. Delores flushed.
"It was not, you filthy little liar!"
"Forgive me Delores, but where is the proof of that?" Minerva queried innocently.
Delores spluttered but didn't say anything. After a moment, she clamped her jaw shut. She appeared to swell before their very eyes, glaring between the two Gryffindors as she realised that there was nothing she could do. Minerva could only imagine that realising you had brought a co-worker and student into your office for absolutely no reason, on a completely groundless and, indeed, pointless charge. She could only imagine, because she had never done it before, as she had better things to do with her time.
"Right then. Well if that will be all, I'll just escort Mister Creevey back to his class." she ran through her various timetables in her head. "Divination, isn't it Mister Creevey?" she asked.
Colin nodded, grabbed his things and bolted across the room to stand by Minerva.
Minerva herself lingered, watching Delores with expertly disguised glee. "Professor Umbridge? If you'd be so kind as to return that?" she asked, indicating the calendar still clutched in Delores's stubby fingers.
The dear Headmistress looked as though she would have rather handed over her wisdom teeth. Her face twisted indignity and annoyance, but she handed it over. "Mister Creevey," she ground out. "If I ever discover you amusing yourself with publications of this sort again…" she left the threat unfinished, but Colin nodded all the same.
"Yes Professor Umbridge." he returned contritely, a smirk playing on his face.
"Yes Professor Umbridge." Minerva echoed. "Thank you for your… er… help. Let's go Mister Creevey." She turned and strode out of the room, a delighted Colin trotting along in her wake.
4:30 PM
-The Great Hall-
It took nearly ten minutes to escort Colin back into Professor Firenze's class. This was due to a combination of his spluttered thanks and her corrections to his calendar. He seemed rather alarmed that she knew so much about former Death Eaters and their connections to Hogwarts Students, but he got over it quickly and began taking hurried notes.
She then had to drop by the East Hallway to remove the charm. Easier said than done, as a group of Ravenclaws and Gryffindors were ice skating on it with recently transfigured shoes. She couldn't deny being impressed, however, when she saw Roger Davies pull off a triple axel.
When asked why they weren't in class, she was informed that NEWT Level Potions had been cancelled that afternoon as the Great Hall, The Entrance Hall and, consequently, the entrance to the Dungeons were all off-limits while Mister Filch and select Professors attempted to return order to the Great Hall. Judging by their expressions of concern and delight, Minerva concluded that Filch and the "Select Professors" weren't having much luck.
For some bizarre reason, this had compelled her to drop by and offer some support.
"Dear God." she murmured as she walked through the doors. "It's like I've walked into a Jackson Pollock painting."
At the very least, it became apparent that Minerva's Perpetuating Charm had been effective. Food of every colour, texture and description coated the walls, furniture and floor. Even the ceiling, in all its enchanted glory, was barely visible under the impromptu salmagundi. A few hundred candles had therefore been lit to allow the Select Professors a chance to work. Their progress was somewhat impeded by the various conjured animals and spells still lurking about the room.
On Minerva's right, Professor Vector was attempting to herd a flock of penguins together so she could vanish them. On her left, Hagrid was wrestling with a fairly lively chair that was attempted to reach Professor Sinistra. Professor Sinistra was, in turn, attempting to use various incantations to return the thing to its original state, none of which were having great effect. Unsurprisingly, Peeves was taunting Filch by the teachers table. The occasional, livelier, piece of food was letting out a half-hearted hop, while various birds and rodents still darted around. Various different coloured mists were also lying in wait around the room, probably sent out by students wishing to create even more chaos.
"Afternoon Professor!" Hagrid greeted roughly before tossing the chair he was trying to restrain against a nearby wall. It immediately leapt back up and went for Professor Sinistra. It was behaving in an oddly… libidinous fashion. "How are yer?" Hagrid continued casually as he once again lunged for the chair.
"F-fine, Hagrid." Minerva stuttered. Professor Sinistra squeaked and ran out of the way as the chair fought towards her. "Hagrid, you can just destroy that chair you know." she told him. Hagrid grinned at her and immediately put a fist through the chair, shattering it into a dozen, inanimate pieces.
Professor Sinistra sighed in relief, putting her hand to her chest. "Delores told us not to destroy anything." she said bitterly.
"I'd like ter see her in here though." Hagrid added, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "Still, we're makin progress, wouldn't yer say?" he commented.
If that was them making progress, Minerva was deeply concerned as to what the room had been like when they got there. She glanced around and took a quick tally in her head. Sinistra, Vector, Hagrid and Filch. Sinistra and Vector had refused to move for Delores that morning and she had made no secret about the fact she hated Hagrid. So that was what the Ravenclaws had meant about 'Select Professors'.
Minerva sighed and rolled up her sleeves. "Well, I suppose we'd better get to work." she said grimly.
5:01 PM
-A Slightly Less Jackson-Pollock-Reminiscent Great Hall-
Get to work was exactly what they did. In the process they found forty-three birds, seventeen mice, fourteen Macaroni Penguins, three biting chairs, two anti-gravity mists, one cloud of garrotting gas, three dungbombs, half-a-dozen enchanted plates and, for some reason, a bar of frog spawn soap.
Surprisingly, the Macaroni Penguins turned out to be the trickiest things to get rid of. Since they had obviously been conjured by the same person they seemed to have an almost psychic connection, often co-ordinating their attacks so they continued to elude capture. Eventually, Professor Sinistra snapped.
"That's it! Enough! I hereby adopt the penguins! They are my penguins! I claim them forevermore and give them permission to wander the castle freely until the end of their days!" she announced loudly, just as Professor Snape entered the room. He sneered and went to say something. "Oh shut up, you smarmy git." Sinistra snapped before he could even draw breath.
Perhaps it was her sharp tone, perhaps it was the obvious stress she was experiencing, or perhaps it was that even Severus Snape could not bring himself to insult someone who had string beans in their hair, splinters in their arm from an attack my an amorous dining chair, and fourteen penguins shuffling around their feet. So instead of a quick barb, he simply nodded curtly and looked past Sinistra. Quite the anti-climax really.
Minerva glanced ruefully up at the ceiling. Those food stains were going to be a pain to get down, she noted. She was either going to need excellent aim or a broomstick… if she'd been a few years younger the aim wouldn't have been an issue, but now…
"Delores would like to know when the Great Hall will be re-opened." Severus informed them all with annoyance. "She would also like it if we kept this little incident as quiet as possible, apparently."
Sinistra gaped at him in disbelief. "Quiet? Quiet! There are been bomb sites left more intact than this place and that old bat wants us to keep this quiet?" she cried angrily. Severus nodded once to confirm it. Auriga threw her hands up in the air. "Oh to hell with it. WHY can't we curse her?" she demanded. "Would somebody tell me? Because I seem to have forgotten."
Vector appeared to consider it for a moment, while Severus was looking at Professor Sinistra with something akin to affection. "Well," Professor Vector concluded after a moment's thought. "She'd probably land you in Azkaban for starters."
"Not if you added a Memory Charm." Hagrid pointed out.
"Exactly." Sinistra agreed vehemently. "Besides, the trial would probably take about six months. By which point Azkaban will probably be bloody empty anyway." she muttered as she began brushing foodstuffs off her robes.
Minerva smiled slightly at her and went back to looking at the ceiling. It was going to be annoying all right… Maybe if she had a broom…
"Why does she want to know when the Hall will be open again anyway?" Professor Vector asked curiously. "Bit early for dinner isn't it?"
Severus apparently disagreed. "It's after five o'clock." he said disparagingly.
Minerva's head snapped around. "What!"
"I said, it's after five o'clock." he repeated, as though explaining the concept to a three year old.
She swore under her breath and stuffed her wand away.
Severus smirked. "Ah. That evening meeting I take it? How very careless of you to forget Minerva."
"Snape. Shut up." Minerva snapped. "You can take care of this, can't you?" she asked Vector, Sinistra and Hagrid. "I mean you've got Severus here to help now. You'll be fine."
Secure in this knowledge, she sped for the door. Or she sped as much as was possible given the chaotic state of the room. She weaved her way through broken furniture and plates, while trying to avoid several Penguins and the occasional ocean of soup. Her colleagues looked on, bewildered.
As she left the room, the last thing she heard was, "You know, I bet she's got a date…"
5:06 PM
-The Entrance Hall-
Minerva hurried out into the Entrance Hall. A group of students were loitering, with a melancholy air about them and expressions of overwhelming annoyance that only a teenager who has missed lunch can truly carry off. They looked hopefully up at her but seemed to realise immediately that she was not there to tell them that dinner was served.
By the front doors, Professor Umbridge was speaking in hushed tones with the Aurors, Proudfoot and Dawlish. All three looked sharply over at her.
"Minerva? May I ask where you think you're going?" Umbridge asked sweetly. "The Great Hall is still inaccessible-"
"The Great Hall is a great deal more accessible than it was an hour ago Delores. There's very little left to be done. I have to go." Minerva snapped, without slowing down.
"I beg your pardon?" Umbridge demanded.
Minerva stopped in her tracks at the foot of the Marble Staircase. She fixed her very best glower upon her face and turned to look back at Delores. "I have things to do, Delores." she said curtly, well aware that everyone in the Entrance Hall was now watching the exchange with obvious interest. "Important thing. Such as my job. My job, which as of this moment, no longer includes cleaning up after your incompetence."
She turned on her heel and swept up the stairs.
Behind her, she almost heard the steam hissing out Delores's ears.
5:12 PM
-Bedroom Quarters-
"Ah! Minnie darling, where have you been? Vi from the antechamber was just telling me the most unusual-" Minerva strode straight through her room and into her en-suite bathroom without sparing a glance at Driscoll.
She intended to have a quick shower before she left. It was a shame that she hadn't remembered her appointment sooner though, as showers generally annoyed her. For some reason she never came out of one feeling as clean as she did when she came out of a bath. Nor did she feel anywhere near as relaxed. It was, however, a price she'd have to pay.
She emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later, clad in a towelling robe. She made and immediate beeline for her dressing table. Minerva loathed getting ready for these sorts of appointments. It always had the remarkable quality of making her regress to the age of thirteen. That same awkwardness, and self-awareness, that made life hell at that age somehow managed to invade her mind each and every time she sat in front of her dressing table, and realised that for once, a basic tight bun and a hat were not an acceptable hairstyle. Bitterness infusing every part of her, she proceeded to dry her hair and charm it into a ridiculously elaborate, and intensely annoying, bun. There were curls, there were twists, there were tendrils that framed her face… It was all very elegant.
It made her want to curse something, truth be told.
Sighing to herself, Minerva turned her attention to the horror that was make-up. Surprisingly, Driscoll was being relatively quiet. She actually checked to see if he was still in the frame or not, as it was rare for him to shut up when he saw her. She was thankful for small mercies, however.
"So…" he said coyly. "Any plans for the evening?"
Knew it was too good to last, she thought. "Yes." she answered curtly, "I am."
Without another word to Driscoll, she began glowering at the lipstick in her hand. After a moment Minerva rolled her eyes. She was going to have to surrender to the fact that make-up was beyond her. She dumped the lipstick into a wastepaper basket with an unceremonious thump. The rest of her pitiful make-up selection quickly followed. She snatched up a tube of Sorcière Charmante Luminescent Moisturiser for Mature Skin and applied it liberally. God knew it was easier than the rest of that war paint.
She'd never been comfortable with all that… girly stuff. While Olive Hornby (the Pansy Parkinson of her day) had been giggling over boys, eye shadow, and Witch Weekly, Minerva had been studying to become an Animagus and reading Hogwarts a History. It wasn't that she had anything against the girly stuff, just that it wasn't her cup of tea.
Which was why, when she finished making her face look as presentable as it was going to (she always had been more 'striking' and 'handsome', than she had been 'beautiful' and 'pretty'), she actually had to struggle to remember what came next.
"Clothing?" Driscoll suggested cheekily. "Or will you be sporting a bathrobe all evening?"
She sent him a glare, but was oddly thankful all the same. It would have to be muggle clothing, of course, but Minerva wasn't worried. She had Muggle clothing.
She threw open her wardrobe.
She did have muggle clothing. In there. Somewhere. She hoped. She prayed.
"Try the very back. On the left."
If that bloody portrait kept this up, she was going to have to admit to liking him, Minerva thought darkly. And that was simply unacceptable. She had been firm in her hatred of Driscoll since day one. The unwavering animosity with which she regarded him was rivalled only by the unwavering animosity with which she regarded Decaffeinated Tea.
Well… except those times during the war when he'd run down to the kitchen and had tea (or occasionally alcohol) sent up for her, when she'd wept in her room. And that time he'd reported to Dumbledore that she was too ill to go to Christmas dinner and could he therefore send up some dinner and crackers. Or that time he'd told her about seeing Neville's boggart in the Staff room. Or those times he'd gotten gossip from the Headmaster's office without telling Dumbledore. Or the nights he had Hot Chocolate sent to her room because he thought she'd had a long day. Or that one night he shut up. True she'd put a silencing charm on him, but peace and quiet was peace and quiet.
Gritting her teeth, Minerva realised he was actually trying to be helpful, in his own garrulous, multiloquent, irritating sort of way. She called out a stiff, "Thank you Driscoll." in appreciation.
He was so shocked he nearly fell out of his frame.
Within another five minutes she was clad in black woollen trousers and an old gold-coloured silk blouse. Her regular black leather shoes would have to do however, as she was quickly running out of time. Satisfied, she headed for the door.
"Jewellery!" Driscoll called after her. "And Perfume! You never wear that stuff."
Minerva growled and turned back into the room. A few puffs of perfume and a couple of gold rings later, she made for the exit once again.
"And take a coat! It's raining!" Driscoll ordered.
Once again, Minerva froze in her tracks and turned back into the room. "When, precisely, did you turn into my mother Driscoll?" she asked him sourly, as she summoned an old muggle coat out from the very back of her wardrobe.
"Well if you'd rather get a cold." he said huffily.
Muttering to herself, Minerva studied old double-breasted coat that now rested in her hands. It had been fashionable in the forties, but now she wasn't so sure.
Driscoll waved his hand airily, apparently sensing her hesitation. "If anyone asks, tell them its vintage." he told her. "Now hurry up! You're going to be late!"
Minerva bit her tongue this time and cast a quick cleaning spell on the coat (it had been in there for a very long time, after all). She put her wand down on the dressing table and shrugged on the coat. As soon as she did, she wondered why on earth anyone would bother with an ill-fitting, showy and utterly superfluous cloak when a muggle coat was really much more suitable.
Leaving that sort of pondering for another day, Minerva marched towards the door for, hopefully, the last time. Nonetheless, she slowed as she reached the door. Not a word escaped Driscoll's lips, until her hand touched the door.
"You won't be needing your wand then?" he asked her blithely.
Her wand. She'd left it on the dressing table. Allowing her head to fall forward in exasperation, Minerva sighed. "Driscoll, why do you do this to me? Surely it would be easier to just tell me to begin with what I was missing, wouldn't it?"
"Easier, certainly." Driscoll agreed as he rearranged the bright purple top-hat that rested upon his head. "But not nearly as much fun."
5:41 PM
-The Entrance (or, more accurately, Exit) Hall-
It had taken her five more trips to the door to get out of her room. From the genuinely necessary call-backs ("You're going to need some muggle money, surely.") to the truly ridiculous ("You're not taking some Veritaserum antidote? Are you daft?"). However Minerva could now safely say that she had prepared for most eventualities. True, if the Ministry kidnapped her and forced truth serum down her throat, she'd be forced to answer all questions honestly. But since she'd already done that with the Ministry, she didn't see it as much of a problem. Driscoll had also engaged her in the great "To take the glasses or not" debate. The glasses had won out in the end, but only because Minerva had spent too many years finally getting comfortable with the things to abandon them for vanity's sake now.
The Entrance Hall was not more or less deserted, save the occasional student drifting into the Great Hall for dinner. Long shadows left most of the hall in darkness though, and the bleak weather did little to improve the visibility. So Minerva supposed that she could have been entirely imagining the sensation that she was being watched. She could have been. But she somehow doubted it.
She marched confidently towards the dungeons as though she hadn't a care in the world. The back of her neck was tingling and most of her attention was fixed on her peripheral vision. She could have sworn she was a movement on her right. One which certainly didn't belong to a student. No student moved so stealthily or with quite so much purpose. Not even James Potter had managed to creep around on marble floors without making a sound.
An Auror, she realised. She was being watched by an Auror.
How delightful.
Dumbledore had once told her that there are points in everyone's life where they must choose between Good Sense, Good Manners, and Good Fun. Minerva had believed him at the time and had often remembered the statement with a small smile of acknowledgement. It was, after all, true. Good Sense dictated that Minerva continue down into the dungeons, use the back exit down there, and travel the winding road down to the lake in her cat form, as she had originally intended. Good Manners dictated that Minerva return to her Bedroom Quarters and admit defeat, as she'd been marked by an Auror.
Good Fun dictated that she head straight for the Front Doors.
A small smirk flitted across her face as she pulled on the heavy door.
5:43 PM
-The Front Lawns-
Minerva walked briskly down the stone steps, pulling up her hood as she went and silently thanking Driscoll's mothering tendencies as the cold rain hit her face. She made her way down the long path that led to Hogsmeade and was nearly out of sight of the castle when she heard the front door creak open and spotted a dark figure emerge.
She kept walking until she was out of sight, and then dove into the bushes where she transformed. Turning into an animal was a peculiar sensation when it was inflicted upon you by an outside source, such as being turned into a ferret by a demented Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, for example. However when you did it yourself, it felt as natural as stretching. In fact there were times when it was nothing short of freeing, which was how Minerva felt about it this time.
She bared her claws and allowed them to sink into the dirt beneath her feet. When she compared it with being constantly on the alert to see if Umbridge was after her… well, safe to say it was the most relaxed she'd been all day.
Glancing around her environs, Minerva noted three important things. Firstly, the foliage in which she was lurking was dense enough at the bottom to leave her more or less concealed. Secondly, Proudfoot was hurrying along after her without paying any particular attention to where he was going. And thirdly, there was a steep downwards slope by the side of the path, which (thanks to the days less-than-brilliant weather) had been transformed into nothing but mud, which led sharply down to yet more mud.
Really, she didn't have any choice in the matter as she darted out of the bushes. Nor did she have any choice as she skilfully entangled herself in his feet, sending him tumbling down into the mire below. She may have had a small choice in how long she chose to stand there gloating, but only a small one.
When at last Minerva's smugness had been sated, she let out a contended purr and trotted off down the path. Sure, she was now running the risk of being slightly late for dinner, but it was more than worth it in her opinion.
5:56 PM
-London-
She appeared in the alley behind the Leaky Cauldron a few minutes later, a small smirk still lingering on her face.
The first thing Minerva noticed was that the papers really hadn't been lying about the heat in London. She had been there for only a few seconds and already the temperature was getting to her. She also noted that she was dripping wet, but a quick charm took care of that nicely. She pulled off her coat, opened the back door and entered the dilapidated old pub.
"Evening Professor McGonagall!" Tom the barman greeted her cheerfully. "What can I do for you?"
"Nothing just now Tom." she responded politely. "Just moving through."
"Right-o." he said, before going back to wiping down the bar.
Pleased that he hadn't tried to make more conversation, Minerva walked straight through the pub and out onto the busy muggle street. Not a single person glanced at her, all far too consumed in their own lives to care much for hers. This suited Minerva fine.
She glanced upwards and caught sight of a clock tower in the distance. She was going to be a few minutes late if she didn't hurry. Unusual for her, certainly, but forgivable under the circumstances. After all, she challenged anyone to have the day she'd had and keep better time. Still, she walked briskly onto the next street and did not slow down for such petty trivialities as a frazzled looking family with eight screaming children in her way. In fact she very nearly cursed a couple of the kids, just because they looked entirely too sticky for her liking and were screaming bloody murder for no good reason.
Minerva caught sight of the small Italian restaurant she was supposed to be having dinner at. "Minerva!" a delighted voice called out to her. "Thank goodness you're here, I was getting worried."
Minerva looked up to see a stately looking woman in an aubergine suit waiting for her. Emmeline Vance: Owner of Transfiguration Today and other magazines, member of the Order of the Phoenix, Capricorn, and one of Minerva's closest confidants of over fifty years. Minerva smiled warmly. "Emmeline." she greeted. "Oh. I'm so pleased to see you."
The two women hugged tightly. "Shall we?" Emmeline asked, gesturing to the Italian restaurant behind her.
"Of course."
"Marvellous." Emmeline chirped. "First things first, you can tell me all about your day."
Minerva's eyebrows shot up instantly. "Careful what you wish for." she warned.