...
"Always kiss your children goodnight, even if they're already asleep."
― H. Jackson Brown, Jr.
...
She felt the sun shining upon her face and Narcissa slowly opened her light blue eyes. She stretched her legs and shoulders before she brushed a hand through her bond hair and got into an upright position on her small bed.
Around her, people started to wake and after a glance at the big grandfather clock at the end of the Great Hall she was surprised to see that she had slept better and longer than she had in days.
"Good morning," a deep, baritone voice said and Narcissa turned her head to the right to see the reason for her good-nights sleep.
"Good morning to you as well," she mumbled, still a little sleepy, but smiled at Severus, who had taken a seat on a nearby chair. Admittedly, she was a little disappointed that he wasn't lying next to her anymore. She had really enjoyed the way he had wrapped his strong arms around her. The feeling of being protected was something she had not experienced very often before. Affection wasn't much appreciated in the Dark Lord's circle.
"I – er – I assumed it was better if no one saw us in – er – such a peculiar position," Severus mentioned and casually gestured towards little empty space on the bed where he had spent the night. "I – er – also hope that I didn't cross any boundaries last night."
A small, mischievous smile flashed across Narcissa's face. "If you had, I would have told you, Sev."
His mouth twitched; for a guarded person like Severus, this was comparable to a wide smile. Cissa knew that he, like everyone else, has been through a lot in the last couple of days. He had dark circles under his eyes, bumps and bruises covered his face… not to forget the invisible, emotional wounds.
"I do admit that my appearance is rather unconventional at the moment, but I can assure you that I feel fine, Narcissa," Severus reassured her, brought his chair closer to the bed and softly put his hand on her leg.
The youngest of the Black Sisters rolled her eyes at him. "Yes, sure. You've had an almost deadly encounter with a bloody snake and been in a coma for Merlin knows how long, so I doubt you really are alright but – "
A sudden thought crossed her mind.
'He read my mind,' Narcissa thought; not really sure whether she should be impressed or angry.
"Why didn't you wake me up?" she asked instead, seeing that the black haired wizard had been awake for longer than she had.
"I figured you had a lot on your plate and should probably sleep as long as you can," he mentioned with a shrug, "though I made sure no one transfigured your robes into this," he added with a raised eyebrow and pointed towards the still sleeping forms of Moody and Slughorn and their childishly looking pyjamas.
Narcissa couldn't help but giggle at the sight. "I'd love to see Horace' face when he discovers his new style of clothing."
Severus smirked.
"As delightful as that would be, I suppose we should be getting ready. It appears people have already started to set up tents on the grounds and to work on the shields."
"Sounds good enough for me," Cissa answered with a shrug. "I just wonder where…"
"Draco is outside," Severus finished, smirking ever-so-slightly.
Narcissa rolled her eyes at his leglimency and nudged him softly with her elbow.
"Careful with your mind-reading. Don't push it, Sev."
.
Draco could have slapped himself. Why hadn't he recognised her earlier?
Astoria Greengrass… Daphne's little sister. And in addition, a member of the sacred twenty-one.
He opened his mouth a couple of times, but no words came out.
After some time, he sighed, and looked at her in embarrassment.
"Sorry," he admitted finally," I didn't really pay attention to younger Slytherins."
Astoria raised her eyebrow. "You mean you didn't really pay attention to anyone but yourself?"
Shame spread through him like a wildfire. The brunette's words hurt, but it hurt even more knowing that she was right.
"Yes, I suppose that's true," he said, sharper and colder than he had intended to, and by now he expected Astoria to leave him any minute.
However, for some unimaginable reasons, she didn't move an inch.
"We cannot fix the past, Draco, but we can give our best that our future turns out differently," she whispered and looked at him with kind, amber eyes. "We all make mistakes. What matters is what we do once we came to terms with all the things we have done wrong."
.
Harry stared at the letter in his hand for one last time before he lifted his head to look at the people around him.
"So, just to make one thing clear: whenever Hermione and I are too far away from the Mablomi, we're automatically sucked in again, right?"
Arina nodded approvingly.
"But it's enough if at least one of us stays within an acceptable distance, isn't it?"
Hermione seemed to think about it for a moment. "I guess so."
Ginny rolled her brown eyes. "Well, there's only one way to find out."
Several pairs of eyes looked at her questioningly.
"Harry and I will pay Petunia Dursley a visit and Hermione accompanies Arina and Dan when they pick up Arielle and the Grangers."
"Can I come, too?" Ron asked hesitantly and glanced from his girlfriend to the ebony-haired witch and the young surgeon.
"Sure thing, Ron," Dan replied with a wink, "the more babysitters for Arielle the merrier."
Arina used that moment to roll her sparkling blue eyes at her husband and Harry immediately started to chuckle.
"What's so funny?" his godmother asked, slightly confused.
The boy-who-lived shrugged, but continued laughing. "Nothing. It's just … that eyeroll… that's so like Professor McGonagall."
.
"We should go back inside," Minerva sighed, her head still resting on Albus' shoulder.
Albus only nodded, but instead of getting up from the little bench he brought his strong arm around her slim waist and pulled her even closer.
The ebony-haired witch rolled her emerald eyes, but nevertheless snuggled closer to her husband; enjoying the feeling of having him by her side after so many months of separation.
"People will ask questions," Minerva mentioned, a bit of worry swinging along in her voice.
"About us?"
"Yes."
"I guess," Albus mused, "but they'll probably be more interested about me coming back from the dead."
Minerva just nodded. "What are you going to tell them?" she asked him and watched expectantly as her husband started to shift on his seat.
"Nothing more than they need to know."
The emerald eyed witch raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps you should for once start telling people the whole truth."
Albus frowned. "I never lied, my dear."
A spark of anger flashed in the witch's eyes. "Holding off information isn't any better, Albus."
The old wizard sighed. "I only did what I thought was best for you."
Minerva shook her head and quickly got up from the little wooden bench. Then she positioned herself right in front of him; her hands resting on her waist. "You still should have told me," she said, and her expression darkened. "I'm your wife, Albus. Not the little girl you looked after from time to time."
She swallowed hard and tears started to well up in her eyes. "We thought we had lost you forever," she whispered. "We attended your funeral, we – we – "
The stinging pain that shot through her heart at that very moment made her stop mid-sentence.
She coughed heavily, clutched her chest in pain and forced her lungs to continue breathing.
Immediately, Albus got up and put his arms round his wife.
Seconds passed, and slowly the agonizing pain began to fade. Minerva closed her eyes, leaned against her husband; still trying to get her breathing under control.
"Are you alright, Tabby?" he asked with worry written all over his face and continued to look at her with concern even though she gave him a weak nod. "You should really go see Poppy about this."
Minerva stubbornly shook her head. "Aidan already checked me out," the witch replied slowly, and although it wasn't a lie per se, Minerva's stomach twisted uncomfortably. "one of Dolores' spells hit me harder than I thought. You know that my heart is not as young as it used to be…"
Albus let his blue eyes wander over her body, sceptically.
Minerva knew that he had a question lying on the tip of his tongue, and she was aware of the fact that, sooner or later, she had to tell him all about the Mors Ad Crutiam Disease but for now she was glad he didn't say anything.
It would buy her a bit more time to find the right words to tell him…
"Do you feel strong enough to face the crowd?" her husband asked after some time of silence.
The witch nodded, took a deep breath, then turned around. She stepped forward and cupped Albus' cheeks with her small hands and kissed him lovingly.
She felt how his arms immediately sneaked around her waist, pulling her as close to him as possible.
The kiss got a lot more passionate than she had first intended it to be; their tongues battled and somehow Albus' hands got entangled in her ebony curls. Minerva sighed against her husband's lips and put her arms around his neck.
When somehow Albus had managed to move their bodies, she felt her back being pressed against the trunk of a tree. Her emerald eyes widened in surprise – apparently the month of separation had increased both their longings for each other. For a short moment, the transfiguration mistress felt like a teenager once again and when she was about to move both her legs upwards around Albus' hips, an annoyed "Merlin's pants, get a room!" made them jump apart immediately.
…
Augusta chuckled at the sighed of the two grownups moving away from each other like teenagers caught in the act.
Personally, she was happy for the couple and would have been happy to let them enjoy their time together; Rolanda on the other hand would never miss such an opportunity to make Min blush.
And how she blushed! A deep crimson flush spread across her cheeks like a wildfire.
Hiding her amusement, the old witch glanced to her side and noticed that Aberforth, too, had a smirk on his face.
Now in a somewhat more appropriate position, and with a bit too much distance between their bodies, Minerva – still trying to get her hair back in her bun – looked at the three of them with a mixture of anger and embarrassment.
"So that's what you're up to when you send us to arrange for breakfast," Rolanda teased and her yellow eyes sparkled with mischief. "You're such a naughty girl, Minnie."
Minerva's cheeks had by now turned into a bright crimson. But Augusta smiled at her old friend. Admittedly, at first, she'd been a bit disappointed that Minerva had kept her marriage and family a secret from her… after all, they had been friends since their first year at Hogwarts. Heavens, Augusta would never forget how both Minerva and Poppy had sneaked into the storage chamber to retrieve the one or other herb that would help her with her own teenage-pregnancy. Back then, they had trusted each other with everything. But then again, times change, and war changes people. Her husband Frank Sr. had died a couple of years into her own marriage and thinking about it now, if they had been more careful his death might have been prevented. She quickly blinked as tears started to form in her olive eyes when she thought about the many people she had already lost. So she simply brushed a strand of her sandy blonde-greyish hair back behind her ear and smiled at the couple. After all, seeing her best friend re-united with her husband made up for all the secrecy. Especially since the bet she had running with Rolanda about the two Heads of Hogwarts having something going on just earned her 10 Galleons.
"When you finally manage to keep your hands to yourselves – "
"What Ro actually wants to say," Augusta interrupted her friend with a head-shake, "is that the elves will be ready to serve breakfast in a couple of minutes."
Minerva audibly let out the breath she had been holding. "Thanks, Auggie," she said, but continued to glare at Rolanda. "We'll be there in a minute."
Rolanda cackled. "Yeah, a minute, sure…"
Aberforth shook his head in amusement and guided the yellow-eyed with away from his brother and sister-in-law. "Let it go, Hooch. Or Minerva might have you sleep in a tent after all…"
.
Once Ron felt his feet touching the ground, the first thing he did was check his body if he was still in possession of all his arms and legs and whatsoever.
"Everything still in one piece?" Hermione asked, the red-haired man nodded and laid his arm around his girlfriend's waist.
"Where exactly does your grandfather live again?" Ron asked, continuing to walk on a small path through a nice-looking village.
"It's not much longer," Aidan answered and turned his head slightly backwards to smile at the couple. "I will give my best to ignore whatever it is you two are doing behind me," he added with a mischievous smirk and to his delight, both his niece and her boyfriend blushed a bright crimson. Arina shook her head in amusement and took his hand in her smaller one.
"You're unbelievable, Dan," she mumbled into his ear when she cuddled closer against him, "give them some space, would you?"
The young surgeon gave his wife a sweet kiss on the cheek. "I'll try," he answered, and with a flick of his wand, he transfigured his own as well as Arina's robes into something more muggle-appropriate: blue jeans and t-shirt and a peach-coloured summer dress for Arina.
For a moment, she raised an eyebrow in a very Minerva-like way upon seeing the sudden change of clothing. "Isn't this a bit short?"
Aidan grinned. "Give me some credit… I haven't seen your legs in a while, Princess."
.
Harry and Ginny had been walking hand in hand until they reached the wooden entrance gates of No.4 Privet Drive. Ginny was about to enter, but Harry hesitated.
"Harry?" the red-head asked, concern written all over her face.
The wizard fished the Mablomi out of his pocket and showed her the already very dark red liquid.
"I thought about watching a couple of memories now," he explained, "I don't really want to get sucked in while standing in aunt Petunia's living room."
Ginny cringed. "Yes, well, that I can understand. So, do you want me to wait here and watch over the Mablomi?"
Harry's emerald green eyes twinkled. "Let's walk a bit further. There's a little playground right around the corner."
A couple of minutes later, the 17-year-old put the Mablomi down on one of the swings hidden behind some rather big oak trees.
Then he looked at his girlfriend. "Do you trust me?"
Ginny's only answer was rolling her eyes at him.
"Okay, give me your hand then, please."
Once their hands were intertwined, Harry touched the little mirror's glowing liquid and he felt the by now familiar tug in the stomach as he got sucked into the Mablomi – along with Ginny, who held on tightly to his hand.
.
"May I have your attention, please."
Xemerius had entered the Great Hall just in time to see Minerva enter the podium. He leaned against a nearby statue that showed an ancient – and probably famous wizard – whole head had been blown of during the battle.
With Batty sitting on his right shoulder, he watched as his old friend prepare for the speech she was about to give – and was once more astonished how the happy chattering in the entire Hall stopped immediately and every single eye was directed towards her.
"I know the last couple of day have been difficult – on all of us," the emerald eyed witch continued and Xemerius knew that she had a hard time speaking about the recent war.
"Breakfast has been arranged, but there are some things that need to be taken care of first."
The silver eyed wizard could hear Horace Slughorn's desperate sigh from about four meters distance. He rolled his eyes in annoyance – the man had apparently just woken up and despite the obvious, he still hadn't realized that he currently wore unicorn-pyjamas… sometimes Xemerius wondered how that man had managed to get a teaching position at Hogwarts at all…
"Hogwarts, as well as many other homes, needs to be restored," Minerva continued as firmly as she could, though the fear that appeared on a lot of faces probably didn't make things easier for her.
"I'm afraid that the ceiling of the Great Hall, as many of you may have already noticed, won't be able to hold for very much longer. But – " she added after some younger witches and wizards had tears running down their faces, "but that doesn't mean Hogwarts will close its doors."
People started chattering, but a rather annoyed 'let her finish, for Merlin's sake' from Aberforth reinforced silence. Minerva sent her brother-in-law a grateful look.
"For all the people that recently lost their homes, or simply want to remain within Hogwarts' safe grounds, we are currently in the process of setting up emergency tents on the outside," the Headmistress said and gave a small smile when she watched the people's faces light up. "Since Hogwarts has not endured such damage in a long time, I would ask everyone who's staying on the grounds to help with the repair work."
Voices of affirmation were heard from all around.
"The funeral," Minerva continued quietly and immediately the crowd fell silent, "will be held in about a week's time. That will give us enough time to arrange for a nice service that is appropriate to honour all those brave souls we have recently lost."
"One question, Professor," a voice suddenly shouted, and Minerva let her eyes wander over the crowd until she spotted a young man in his 30ies.
"Yes?"
"Well, you see, rumour has it that…"
Xemerius closed his eyes and sighed. This would take longer than expected.
.
"Sorry…" Ginny mumbled as she tried to roll off Harry on whom she had fallen upon by accident.
"It's okay," Harry laughed, "last time, I was buried underneath both Rina and Mione."
The red head still wasn't quite comfortable with the situation, especially since the red waves were still swirling around her.
"And what…? How…? I mean… I thought only Professors McGonagall, Dumbledore, Aidan and Arina were able enter the Mablomi along with you and Hermione?"
Harry shrugged. "We still haven't figured out all of the Mablomi's secrets. And well, Professor McGonagall told us that it was once used as an ancient secrecy method, right?"
Still confused, Ginny nodded as the memory slowly started to form a scene in front of her.
"I just wondered if a person allowed to watch the memories was able to bring along someone," Harry explained sheepishly.
"Looks like it worked," Ginny said, smiling and took her boyfriends hand. "Now, any idea what we're about to see?"
Harry shook his head. "None at all."
…
| Ministry of Magic | Department of Magical Law Enforcement | January 1954 |
"Min… what in Merlin's name am I supposed to do here?" an approximately 18-year-old Xemerius Brooks cursed as he walked along the long corridors. His brown hair was long and bound together at the back of his head in a low pony tail.
Harry noticed Ginny's soft giggles. "It's amazing to see their younger selves, isn't it?"
The red-head nodded. "Yeah, I cannot wait to see Professor McGonagall. Did she really look that much like Arina?"
The emerald eyed young man nodded with a smile. "Like a copy and just as beautiful. Look, there she is!"
Only seconds later, 17-year-old Minerva McGonagall turned around the corner. Like her best friend, she wore her Hogwarts robes – along with her Head Girl Badge. Her ebony hair was pulled up in a high pony tail.
She rolled her emerald eyes at the boy. "Urgh, I cannot tell you – at least not yet."
"But – "
"No buts! Just shut up and follow me, will you?"
Defeated by a rising Scottish temper, Xemerius followed the young witch towards the end of the corridor.
"That's a dead end, Min."
The witch only held up her hand before she pressed it firmly against the bricks.
Xemerius silver eyes widened in astonishment – as well as Harry's and Ginny's – when the bricks moved aside and, just like in they did in Diagon Alley, and granted the entrance into a hidden chamber.
"You're late," a deep male voice behind said from somewhere in the room.
Minerva sighed. "I apologize… We had some trouble leaving Hogwarts… With Grindelwald's followers still on the rise, they patrol the corridors more often then they used to do…"
"At least they have finally realized that the Knights of Walpurgis still pose a threat even though Grindelwald's imprisoned in Nurmengard…" Xemerius complained before he could stop himself.
A chuckle was heard, then a chair moved, and Fleamont Potter faced his young protégé and her friend.
"Well, now I see why you like him, Kitty," Monty said smiling and extended his hand to Xemerius, who looked questioningly at Minerva at hearing her nickname.
"Monty," Minerva continued, skilfully ignoring her nickname, "this is my most trusted friend, Xemerius Brooks."
Then she turned towards Xem. "Xem, this is my mentor, Fleamont Potter."
Silver eyes went wide. "Hold on, THE Fleamont Potter? Head of the Department of Law Enforcement?"
"Ah, I see my reputation precedes me," Monty laughed and mentioned for the two of them take a seat.
"It's an honour to meet you, Sir," Xemerius added, blushing a bright crimson and looked at Minerva with a still stunned expression.
"Told you it was worth coming," she whispered with a smile.
Monty shuffled through some papers on his desk before he faced the 7th-year-students.
"Now, the reason why I have asked Minerva to bring you here tonight – "
"Hold on," Xem interrupted with one finger pointed at the ebony-haired witch. "Did you say mentor?"
She nodded, but before she could go into further detail, Monty gave a small cough.
"Yes, Mr. Brooks," Monty continued matter-of-factly, "Miss McGonagall has been my protégé for quite some time now. And before you ask, what we are about to discuss now is strictly confidential."
Xemerius nodded. "You can trust me, Sir."
Monty nodded. "Good. Now, please loose the 'Sir'. Call me Monty."
"Will do so Sir – ah, Monty."
"Splendid. Alright, I will keep this as short as possible. You should return to Hogwarts before someone notices that both of you are gone, right, Kitty?"
Young Minerva rolled her eyes at her mentor, but nodded eventually.
Monty turned to Xemerius.
"Ever since her sister's death, Minerva here has agreed to be part of the Auror-Special-Forces-Team – also known as 'Ghosts'."
Silver eyes widened even more.
"Long story short, due to a recent accident, we are one member short and I have had a long conversation with Kitty and she convinced me that the only person she could ever trust was… you."
This time, Xemerius mouth dropped and he stared from Monty to Minerva and back to Monty.
"You will have to learn quickly and practice hard, but if you're willing to do all this, I will make an exception and offer you a position as an Auror-Protégé."
Xemerius looked like he had just been hit on the head with a broomstick. "But – but – my grades are … well… not really that great… and – and I cannot really see blood… not to mention that I'm a muggle born…"
Monty nodded slowly. "I'm aware of all that, Mr. Brooks. But as I already mentioned, Kitty needs a partner, and the fact that she trusts you is reason enough for me to give you a chance."
At this point, mentor and protégé exchanged looks.
"Besides, it might be a good thing to have someone on the team with muggle-knowledge… the only question remaining is, Mr. Brooks, are you willing to work as an Auror?"
Xemerius glanced at Minerva, who smiled at him, before he nodded enthusiastically. "You bet I am."
Monty seemed pleased. "Very well then, let's get to the unpleasant part of this meeting – the paperwork."
…
The scene dissolved and Ginny stared at Harry, smiling brightly.
"So, this was your grandfather? He seems pretty cool."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "You're not surprised to see that both Professors Brooks and McGonagall were Aurors?"
The red-head shrugged and watched as the red waves around them began to construct a new memory. "I've spent quite some time with Professor McGonagall during the last school year," her brown eyes darkened at the thought of the torture and pain they had all endured under the Carrows' regime," she didn't really say it, but I somehow suspected that she did something of the sort before she became a teacher… I mean, seriously, that battle with Umbridge should have been evidence enough."
Harry nodded. "Yeah, also explains the relationship between McGonagall and Xemerius. You trust your partner with your life."
…
| June 1971 | McGonagall Manor | Evening |
"What time will you be back from the Ministry meeting, Albus?" thirty-six-year-old Minerva McGonagall asked while descending the marble staircase that led down into the entrance hall of her family manor. She wore an elegant set of dark green velvet robes, and – it seemed like an official situation – a witch's hat adorned with a golden brioche.
Professor Dumbledore, who seemed to be in his mid-fifties, was equally business-like dressed and turned around to face his wife.
"I don't know, my dear," he confessed and sighed, "some of our esteemed politicians still deny that we are at war."
The witch didn't seem very pleased. "Well, I take it you won't be able to watch Arina tonight, then, will you?"
Dumbledore's blue eyes widened, and he winced. "You had an interview with a muggle born scheduled for today, hadn't you?"
"You know, sometimes I really wonder why I keep writing entries in the calendar," was the sarcastic reply.
"Well, then perhaps Poppy or Xemerius could watch – "
"Albus," Professor McGonagall interrupted, "Poppy's having her hands full with the new medical students at the Asclepius Institute and Xem is on a field day with his 3rd years at Ilvermorny."
The Headmaster seemed troubled. "If it was another meeting, Tabby, I'd cancel, but – "
Minerva sighed and turned around on the staircase, her emerald robes blowing in the air. "Never mind, I'll just take her with me… Arina," she shouted, rather impatiently, "Honey, please get down here. I'll need you to come with me."
Seconds later, little 11-year-old Arina – wearing a white summer dress and her ebony hair bound together in two French braids – came racing down the stairs, her blue eyes sparkling.
"Where are we going, Máthair?"
The emerald eyed witch smiled at her daughter. "I'll have to visit a muggle born student. Her 11th birthday was on January 31st and I still haven't heard from her," she explained and with a flick of her wand accio-ed a handbag from somewhere in the house. "Say good-bye to your father, Kitten."
Arina immediately sprinted over to Professor Dumbledore and he lifted the little girl up with ease. She gave him a hug and a soft kiss on the cheek, then he put her down once more and kissed his daughter on the fore-head. "I'll see the both of you tomorrow."
Both Professors exchanged one last look, before the wizard left the house.
"Now," the witch continued with a soft smile, "it's only one student, so you won't have to stay in my handbag for long. But I put some sweets as well as one of your toy mouses in it, so you'll have something to play with, okay."
Arina smiled brightly. "I love that mouse!"
"I knew you would," the transfiguration mistress said, smiling. Then she waved her hand and within seconds, Arina turned into a little black kitten, who immediately jumped into the handbag.
...
|June 1971 | seconds later | Evans House |
Professor McGonagall appeared right in front of the a small wooden town house, checked her bag to make sure little kitten-Arina was alright and knocked.
It took some time, but eventually, an older women with mouse-blonde hair and pale blue eyes opened. Harry had to swallow for the curvy women looked a lot like Aunt Petunia – especially the distance in her eyes.
Ginny seemed to sense Harry's discomfort. "That's your grandmother?"
Harry nodded. "Appears so… never met her. But she certainly looks as strict as aunt Petunia…"
"Yes?"she asked and looked at the young transfiguration mistress – and her emerald robes – with a grim expression.
"Ms. Evans, I presume?" the emerald eyed witch asked politely, "My name is Professor Minerva McGonagall. I would like to talk to you about your daughter's education."
Marigold Evans' eyes narrowed. "I don't think Petunia's education is any of your business. Besides, she already attends the best school in the district."
Even though she was a lot younger in the memory, Harry chuckled a bit because he could see how his Professor clearly struggled to keep her temper in check.
"Yes, I am quite aware of that," the witch answered briskly, ignored the other women and let herself into the house, "I was talking about your youngest daughter, Lily. If I'm not mistaken?"
Ms. Evans mood darkened. "I can assure you, Miss McGon – "
"Professor."
"Professor McGonagall," Marigold Evans continued with an eyeroll, "that my husband and I have already found the right place for Lily and her… condition."
Emerald eyes started to sparkle dangerously. "I see. And by 'condition' you do not happen to mean extraordinary things that continue to happen around your daughter?"
This time, fear was mirrored in Marigold's eyes – like a deer caught in the headlights. "How – How do you know about that? We have taken every precaution to keep this – whatever it is she's doing – away from public!"
Harry balled his hands into fists and only Ginny's comforting hand on his shoulder kept him from storming off.
"She's just like Aunt Petunia, Gin!" the young man shouted, outraged and he could feel tears of anger and disappointment forming in his emerald eyes. "They think my mother is a freak! Just like they did with me…"
Ginny stepped forward, cupped his face with her hands and kissed him softly. "I will never really know what it's like to grow up like you did," she whispered and carefully brushed away a lonely tear that had rolled over his cheek, "but just remember that there are so many people out there who love you. I love you. And from what I've heard, your mother was loved, too."
Harry hugged her tightly. "Seems like her own family didn't, though."
The red-head sighed. "I guess not. But so many other people did, Harry. And just remember Professor Dumbledore's words… family is about more than just blood."
The dark-haired wizard just nodded. He couldn't say anything more; too afraid to see his beloved mother being treated the same way he was.
But the sight of Professor McGonagall in the Evans' house gave him hope. Perhaps his mother did have a better childhood than he had after all…
Her red lips in a thin line now, the transfiguration mistress crossed the room and sat down on a chair next to the kitchen table.
"You ask how I know about that?" she asked challenging, "well, I actually thought that the letter Lily received on her 11th birthday was explanation enough."
Marigold Evans rolled her pale blue eyes. "That Hogwash-nonsense Lily wouldn't stop talking about?"
Emerald eyes blazed dangerously. "Yes. Except that if you had taken your daughter more seriously, you would have realized that it quite real."
The other woman only cackled. "Oh please, you won't tell me that you believe in my daughter's childish imagin – "
The sound of a book dropping to the ground was heard in the background, and Marigold Evans stopped mid-sentence when – after a simple wave of her hand – Professor McGonagall had levitated a cup of tea from the sink towards the kitchen table.
"Now that I've finally got your full attention," the ebony-haired witch continued coldly, "I'd be very pleased to get back to discussing your daughter's magical education."
Since Ms. Evans still seemed to be in some kind of stunned silence, Minerva added a soft "why don't you join us, Lily, hmm?" and smiled towards the living room door, where small hands picked up the book she had dropped earlier.
Slowly, the door opened, and a small girl with beautiful emerald eyes and long, red hair entered shyly and walked towards the witch – whose own green eyes widened for a short moment at seeing the girl.
"I'm sorry," little Lily apologized immediately, and tears formed in her eyes, "I – I didn't mean to eavesdrop… I – I just – wanted to – "
Professor McGonagall, who had re-gained her composure, smiled at her and reassuringly patted the empty seat next to her. "Please, don't worry, dear. You didn't do anything wrong," here she glared at Marigold Evans, who apparently was anything but pleased with her daughter's behaviour, "I'm here for you."
Lily's green eyes lit up and she brushed away her tears. "For me?"
The transfiguration mistress nodded. "Yes. My name's Minerva McGonagall, and I'm the deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
The young red-head smiled shyly. "So – So the letter? You wrote it?"
The witch nodded, smiling.
"And – and I'm really a witch?"
Professor McGonagall smirked. "You are. I guess some funny and unexplainable things happened to you?"
Lily nodded, and after a look towards her mother, fear once again was written in her beautiful eyes and she played with a piece of a golden necklace that was tucked underneath her shirt.
"That's alright, you don't have to be afraid," the ebony haired witch said immediately and patted the girls shoulder softly, "at Hogwarts, you'll learn – along with a lot of other students – how to control your powers."
"Really?"
"Really."
Lily turned to her mother, smiling happily. "Did you hear that, mother?"
Before Marigold Evans got the chance to answer, an angry voice was hear from behind.
"You will not set a single step in that school, young lady," Robert Evans thundered and entered the kitchen along with a half-emptied bottle of whiskey.
Once again, tears formed in Lily's eyes and it broke Harry's heart to see that she instinctively hid behind Professor McGonagall upon seeing her father.
"But Daddy – "
"No buts! We have discussed this! Starting tomorrow, you will be accepted in London's institution for difficult children. As for you," he turned to Professor McGonagall and his dark brown eyes blazed angrily and his breath smelling like alcohol, "what possesses you to write such letters to my daughter? Witchcraft? Please, people already talk badly about her odd behaviour without her pretending to be a witch and – "
"Now that's quite enough," the emerald eyed witch thundered and a window on the other side of the room shattered. Petunia's eyes went wide. Then she waved her hand, changed into her animagus form – let herself get petted by a teary looking Lily – before she returned to being her human self. "Like it or not, magic is real, and your daughter is a witch. And by our laws, you are prohibited to deny her a magical education."
Marigold Evans looked close to fainting. "A witch… heavens what will the neighbours say…?"
Mr. Evans shook his head. "They are already badmouthing our good family name, dear…" then he looked from the Professor to Lily and back to his wife. Then, in his drunken state, staggered across the room. "Petunia's chances of marrying into a good family get smaller and smaller the longer she," he pointed with his whiskey bottle towards his youngest daughter, "is here."
Professor McGonagall looked like she couldn't believe what she was hearing. "This is your daughter you're talking about," she said incredulously and walked a couple of steps to take a crying Lily in her arms.
"She ain't my daughter anymore, she's a freak," Robert slurred and crashed down on the sofa. "For all I care, take 'er with you. But don't bother bringin' her back, ya hear me?"
By now, rivers of tears rolled down the red-haired girl's cheeks. She snuggled closer into the transfiguration mistress' arms and looked with teary emerald eyes at her mother. "M-mummy?" she cried, waiting for her mother to say something against her father's harsh words.
But Marigold Evans only swallowed hard and after a dangerous glare from her husband, she shook her head. "You've heard your father. Stay or leave – the choice is yours."
Little Lily buried herself deeper in Professor McGonagall's robes.
"Lily, dear, look at me, please," the transfiguration mistress said softly, and the tear-filled emerald eyes of the little red-haired witch looked at her. "Listen to me. You are not a freak. You are a wonderful little girl who will – with the right education – turn into an equally wonderful and skilled young witch. But you have to follow your heart and decide who you want to be and where you want to go."
Young, teary and frightened emerald eyes met slightly older, wiser, but lovingly looking emerald eyes. "I – I can't," Lily said and tears were rolling down her cheeks. "I – I don't have a-anywhere to live if I l-leave my parents. And – and I d-don't want to be alone."
The young Professor bent down and took Lily's little hand in hers, stroking it softly. "Lily, if you want to be part of our world, you are welcome to live with me," she had offered softly to everyone's surprise, but her emerald eyes shone with complete honesty and protection. "I promise, you will never be alone."
Lily swallowed hard, looked at her by now passed out drunk father on the sofa, to her mother, who wouldn't even meet her eyes.
Then, as in slow motion, the young witch nodded with tears in her eyes and hugged the older witch tightly. "Please take me with you."
…
This time, even Ginny's brown eyes were filled with tears. Harry swallowed hard and put his arms around his girlfriend. They didn't speak; they just held each other.
The first time Harry had entered the Mablomi, he had been so excited to see memories about his parents that it never really occurred to him that some of them might be extraordinary heart-breaking to witness.
To see his own mother in such a painful, yet terribly familiar situation made his heart ache.
And it was then when he realized just how important Professor McGonagall's role in his mother's life really was.
…
| January 1947 | Leaky Cauldron |
Apparently, the Leaky Cauldron hadn't changed a bit in half a century, and Harry and Ginny both smiled when they looked around the pub that portrayed the secret passage way from the muggle to the wizarding world. Sure enough, Tom, the bar-tender looked slightly younger, but that was about the only difference so far.
Like in the present day, the pub was crawling with witches and wizards that were happily chattering, drinking and eating, or complaining about the one or other thing.
Then the door that lead to Diagon Alley opened and Rose McGonagall, entered; her long and flaming red hair bound in a French braid adorned with a witch's hat. Her amber eyes quickly scanned over the crowd.
Seconds later, the 10-year-old version of their transfiguration mistress entered behind her mother, dressed in a red blouse, black skirt and white stockings.
Harry grinned – she was already dressed in Gryffindor's colours.
"Rose," Tom acknowledged with a small bow of his head.
"Tom," the First Lady of Magic smiled softly at him, "always a pleasure."
"Pleasure's all mine, Milady. Your table is already waiting, as is your guest."
"Thank you, Tom," she answered kindly and followed the old wizard.
Once they reached the table, she quickly greeted the man already seated there before the red-haired beauty turned to her daughter.
"This might take a while, darling…"
Little Minerva thought for a moment, apparently a bit disappointed.
"Might I go to the library, then?"
Rose raised an eyebrow. "The muggle library?"
The ebony-haired girl nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, please. It's right across the street."
The First Lady seemed a bit troubled and her amber eyes wandered quickly to her business-partner and back to her daughter.
"Fine," she answered eventually, untied her ruby-red travelling coat and sat down. "Promise to be careful?"
The little girl flashed her mother a smile. "Promise, mummy."
… | streets of London | …
Little Minerva shivered slightly in the cold January air as she walked the busy streets of London. Snowflakes fell from the skies if it wasn't for all the people and cars, it could have been a very peaceful day.
Suddenly, alarmingly noisy hooting sounds were to be heard.
The little witch turned around and her emerald eyes widened in fear when she spotted one of the many cars loosing control. It slayed dangerously on the streets, then, without warning, raced onto the pavement right next to her.
Along with other passengers, Minerva jumped out of the way, but out of the corner of her eyes, she saw that the car was about to crash right into another girl.
Horrified, and without thinking about the muggles around her, the 10-year-old raised her hands and shouted a quick "Locomotor!".
Not a second too late, the car rose slightly from the ground and moved to the right, missing the girl by only inches before it crashed into the nearest wall.
Shocked by her own amount of underage-magic, Minerva stared first down at her hands, then turned her head to look around.
It seemed like a miracle, but apparently, the muggles were to busy talking exasperatedly to each other to notice that something out of the ordinary had just happened.
Shaking heavily, Minerva let out a breath of relief that no one had noticed her magic – until she locked eyes with the girl whose life she had just saved. Emerald eyes meeting hazel. And by the way the girl was looking at her, Minerva could tell that she knew.
Panic was rising inside of her, but before the ebony haired witch was able to decide what to do next, the hazel-eyed girl got up and approached her on equally shaky legs.
"Thank you," she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Emerald eyes looked at her panicked. "I – er – that wasn't me – "
The girl nervously played with a strand of her very curly caramel hair. "You saved my life," she said, her voice hoarse.
"That wasn't – I mean, I didn't – "
"That was magic, wasn't it?" she asked, wiping away the bit of blood that was dropping from a small scratch on her forehead.
Little Minerva looked like a deer caught in the headlights. "I – I don't know what you're talking ab – "
"But I know," the girl whispered, and a small smile graced her face, "one of my ancestors was a Squib."
…
Harry let out the breath he didn't know he had been holding.
Ginny, too, looked flushed. Partly, because they were relieved that the girl already knew about the magical world, but also because the situation could have had a very differently – and deadly.
For example a girl getting killed by a car or the transfiguration mistress getting into a lot of trouble for using magic in muggle presence. Luckily, muggles had proven once more that like most of the time, they didn't believe in miracles…
The red-head looked at her boyfriend with wide, brown eyes. "Have you ever seen such a piece of underage magic?"
The wizard shook his head. "No. But the more I see, the more I understand why everyone keeps saying that Professor McGonagall's the most powerful witch of her age…"
…
The memory had changed forward a couple of minutes, showing the two girls seated in one of the darkest corners of the public muggle library.
"So, you know about… well, magic?" little Minerva whispered the last part of the question, apparently still afraid a muggle would overhear something.
"Yes, I found old letters and a couple of spell books… my parents don't believe in it, but ever since I read them, I looked at my surroundings differently."
Minerva smiled. "What did you see?"
"Little things, oblivious to most – like that old pub across the street. According to the sign, it's been closed for ages… but people keep entering."
Emerald eyes sparkled. "That's the 'Leaky Cauldron'. One of the many hidden entrances into the magical world."
"Really?" she asked, amazed. "Wow. I'd have never thought that – "
"Minerva!"
The two girls jumped around to see Rose McGonagall quickly crossing the room – ignoring the people in the library, who angrily glared at the red-haired beauty for disturbing the silence.
"There you are, darling," she whispered and hugged her daughter tightly. "We just heard what happened. Are you alright, dear?"
The 10-year-old nodded. "We're fine. Am I in trouble?" she added a bit scared.
Rose took a deep breath. "Well, it seems like none of the muggles noticed your admittedly quite extraordinary piece of magic and since you're still underage there shouldn't be any consequen – "
The first Lady stopped mid-sentence since she had apparently just now noticed the curly haired girl sitting next to her daughter.
"She already knows, Matháir. She descended of a Squibb."
Relief replaced the panic in Rose' amber eyes. "Very well, then I hope you'll keep our secret, Miss…?"
The 13-year-old got up and extended her hand politely to the older woman. "Victoria Bailey, Ma'am. But please, call me Bay."
The first Lady smiled. "Nice to meet you, Bay. However, I'm afraid I need to take Minerva with me now."
The little witch looked at her mother with sad emerald eyes. "Can I see her again, mother?"
This time, amber eyes sparkled when they looked at the two girls. "Of course. In fact, how would you like to get a glimpse at the magical world, Bay?"
Bay's hazel eyes lit up. She shook her head in excitement so that her caramel curls hopped up and down. "I'd love to!"
…
| June 1993 | Hogwarts | Headmaster's private quarters |
The old grandfather clock in the sitting room stroke 7 o'clock in the morning, and right on time, an owl knocked at the window.
Arina, who was seated at the round breakfast table with both her mother and father – of whom the first was already dressed for the day and the latter still wearing purple pjamas – got up and opened the window.
"Thanks, Amaunet," the 33-year old witch said, petted the owl shortly before it sat off again. "It's the Sunday Prophet."
"Anything of interest?" Professor McGonagall asked, and sipped on her Earl Grey.
"No, not really," the younger witch replied once she had skimmed over the first pages, and Professor Dumbledore chuckled.
"You sound disappointed, my dear."
Arina shrugged. "I wouldn't say that… but it seems a bit too quiet these days…"
She continued to flip through the pages, occasionally setting the paper down to eat a spoon full of porridge.
"It's a shame Aidan wasn't able to make it today," Minerva continued and pointed to the loaded breakfast table. "Sunny was looking forward to seeing him again."
This time, Arina chuckled. "Should I be worried that our House Elf's got a crush on my husband?"
The emerald-eyed witch smirked. "I think she's a bit too old for him."
"Yeah, well, she wouldn't be the first. Last week, he told me how one of his patients tried to ask him out – and she was like twice his – "
Arina stopped mid-sentence and stared at one of the pages like in trance.
"Is everything alright, my dear?" Professor Dumbledore asked, and looked worried over his half-moon glasses.
"This – This cannot be possible…" Arina mumbled and got up.
"What is it, Kitten?"
Arina turned and placed the page in front of her mother. "Tell me what you see."
Professor McGonagall put her glasses on. Then she shrugged. "The Weasleys… Molly, Arthur and the children seem to be holidaying in Egypt. They do that every now and then, Kitten. What's so upsetting about it?"
Arina pointed onto something on the picture. "That! Don't you see?"
"Let me see that," Dumbledore commanded patiently, waved his hand and the paper flew towards him. "Ah, yes, that's – what' his name again… - ah, yes, Scabbers. Ronald's pet rat."
Arina's mouth dropped. "You cannot be serious."
"I am quite serious, my dear," the Headmaster said, and raised an eyebrow. "I believe he's had it for quite some time now… If I recall correctly, it was a hand-me-down from Percy…"
The 33-year-old shook her head in disbelieve, threw her hands in the air, grabbed her coat and headed straight for the door.
"Arina," Professor McGonagall called, clearly irritated by her daughter's behaviour, "what in Merlin's name has got into you?"
Before she was out of the door, Harry's godmother turned around one more time. "Someone literally ratting someone out."
This said, she was gone and left two confused Professors behind.
…
Harry and Ginny exchanged a confused look while the memory started to move forward. The Weasley's went to Egypt a couple of years ago if he recalled correctly. But no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn't quite figure why his godmother had been so upset about it.
…
It was dark and foggy when Arina Gold appeared out of nowhere. Ignoring the heavily pouring rain, she strode ahead on a small trail, leading to a heavily guarded building. The roaring sea's water that surrounded the island crashed against the rocks, the lightning from above struck a tree in the close distance and thousands of dementors hovered in the air – Azkaban in all its fearful glory.
Unimpressed, Arina walked until she reached the gates of the fortress, lifted her wand and sent up red sparks.
With a squeaking sound, the gates opened.
"Identify yourself!" a guarding wizard from the inside shouted.
Calm, the 33-year-old witch reached into her pocket and draw her ID.
"Arina Gold, Department of Mysteries," she spoke, her voice cold. "I need to speak with one of your inmates."
The chubby guard looked concerned. The clock at the end of the hall stroke twelve.
"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but I'm the only one on duty tonight and I'm not allowed to – "
Arina's lips thinned dangerously. "I will only repeat myself once," she hissed and pointed her wand at him, "I'm an Unspeakable, and working as such, I do not fall under the usual jurisdiction. Meaning, that either you grant me access or I will have to resort to unnecessary violence. Did I make myself clear?"
Once would think that working in Azkaban would provide people with nerves of steel, but the guard only shuddered under Arina's temper.
"Name?" he asked, voice hoarse.
Arina took a deep breath. "Sirius Black."
…
"H-here you g-go," the guard stuttered and pointed with a shaky finger towards the cell and its heavy iron gates.
Arina nodded. "I will let myself out later. Oh," she added before the guard had completely vanished around the corner of the corridor. "I would appreciate it if my name didn't show up in the visitor records, if you know what I mean."
Eyes wide, the guard quickly shook his head in an approving manner, knowing it was better not to anger the blue-eyed unspeakable.
Once he was gone, Arina stepped closer to the cell.
"S-Sirius?" she whispered, only hesitating ever-so-slightly.
At first, nothing happened. Then, out of nowhere, long bony fingers gripped around the iron bars and the haunted face of Harry's godfather showed. His hair was wild, a forlorn look in his eyes and the rags he wore hang from his starved body.
It was a bizarre situation to see him in his devastated state, and Arina, properly dressed in an elegant black coat, her hair neatly braided and her ivory skin illuminated by the faint light of the moon that shone through the tiny window on the other side.
"A-Arina?"
Sirius' voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper.
"Yes," the witch confirmed and stepped closer; the patronus she had cast earlier protecting the both of them from the dementors on the ceiling. "I don't have much time."
The wizard still looked as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.
"You never betrayed Lily and James, did you?" Arina asked, and the tears that shimmered in her eyes betrayed her stern behaviour.
Sirius looked defeated. "Everybody thought I did."
"I know," the witch whispered, "I did, too."
She held up her hand when he was about to interrupt. "And it took me far too many years to realize that I was wrong."
A tiny spark of surprise lit up in Sirius' eyes.
"Peter was their secret keeper, wasn't he?"
His body started shaking. "W-we thought it was the perfect plan," he said through gritted teeth. "Everyone assumed James to pick me… no one would have suspected Peter… but – "
"He got cold feet."
"Yes. He traded the information in exchange for his own life."
"That bloody son of a – "
Sirius reached through the iron bars and grabbed her hand, forcing her to look him in the eyes.
"Rina – focus."
She took a deep breath.
"You need to get out of here," she said, matter of factly, fished the newspaper out of her bag and showed him the picture of the Weasleys. "The rat – it's missing a claw."
Sirius' eyes widened. "T-they only found a finger."
Arina nodded. "The coward he was, he cut off his finger, transformed, and lived as a pet rat ever since!"
Anger sparkled in Sirius' eyes. "That – that traitor… we – we need to catch him."
"Sirius," Arina spoke firmly, "we need to protect Harry. His best friend, Ronald… Peter's his rat."
The wizard looked like he has been hit with a broomstick. But before he could say something, the clock stroke again, and Arina glanced nervously at her watch.
"I need to go. No one can now I was here. Least of all Peter."
Sirius still held on to her hand and tagged her closer to his cell. "Get me out of here, Rina. That's the least you owe me."
The witch looked him deeply in the eyes. "I can't. If I were to use a spell, the Dementors would kill both of us."
"But – "
Arina moved her face to the cell; only inches away from Sirius'.
"There's only one way I can think of," she whispered, and pressed the newspaper in his hand. "Sirius… Dementors don't recognize Animagi."
…
Harry threw his hands up in the air as the red waves of the Mablomi started to create yet another memory. Seeing his godfather again had brought tears into his emerald eyes, but the fact that Arina had discovered his innocence was making his heart skip a beat.
"That's how Sirius got the newspaper!" his voice was filled with excitement. "Arina gave it to him."
Ginny nodded, equally astonished. Then, realization dawned on them. "She helped him escape from Azkaban!"
…
| December 1st 1929 | Midnight | Dumbledore Family House | Godric's Hollow | …
This time around, Harry and Ginny watched as the Mablomi's red waves slowly faded and turned into what seemed to be a small bedroom. The pictures of unicorn on hung up on the wall as well as the little stuffed phoenix that was sitting on the bedside table indicated that the room probably belonged to the youngest of the Dumbledore children – Ariana.
Harry put his arm around Ginny's waist when she leaned against his body – a smile appearing on both their faces when they spotted the small strawberry-haired girl underneath the fluffy covers in her bed.
"She looks so peaceful," Ginny whispered, even though she knew that the people in the memory wouldn't be able to hear her. "You ever wonder how she'd be like now? I mean, if she hadn't died?"
Harry thought about it for a moment as they watched the girl in her sleep, then a melancholy smile appeared on his face. "She'd probably have both her brothers wrapped around her finger. Loving, caring … and as stubborn as a hippogriff."
Ginny smirked and laid her head on her boyfriend's shoulder. "It's hard to watch them, you know, the people in the memories… knowing what will happen to them."
The wizard nodded sadly. "McGonagall mentioned there would be some things difficult to watch but – "
In that moment, the wooden door opened with a squeaking sound and the 11-year-old version of Albus Dumbledore sneaked into the room, holding a candle in his hand. Ginny's eyes lit up happily and Harry just nodded, smiling. The young boy with his auburn hair and mischievously sparkling blue eyes was indeed an adorable sight.
He quickly crossed the room, put the candle down on the night stand and carefully squeezed his sister's shoulder.
Sleepy blue eyes blinked at him. "Al?"
Albus beamed at her. "Happy birthday, Ana!" he whispered and hugged the little girl tightly.
Ariana immediately sat up straight and happily hugged her brother back. "I thought you are at Hogwarts!" she pointed out excitedly and happy-tears formed in her eyes.
"Don't tell anyone," the boy said mischievously, "but I sneaked out."
The girl's blue eyes widened. "Out of Hogwarts?"
"I'd never miss your birthday, Ana. Here," Albus spoke and fished a black velvet boy out of his Hogwarts robe, which he handed to his sister.
Excitedly, the strawberry-blonde opened it and once she had gotten rid of the wrapping paper, she gaped at its insights.
"That's so beautiful, Al."
The 11-year-old smiled. "It was grandma's. And her grandma had it before her," he explained proudly as he carefully took the phoenix necklace out of the box and placed it around his sister's neck.
Ariana hugged him once more. "Thanks, Al. Thank you so much."
Albus only continued smiling and tightened his arms around his sister, holding her as close he possibly could
…
Harry and Ginny swallowed hard as the scene once more changed. They both had tears in their eyes watching that beautiful but bittersweet memory of the two siblings. Theoretically, Harry would never know how it would be like losing a sibling since he only ever grew up having Dudley by his side, but the mere thought of either Ron or Hermione dying caused him to shiver in horror.
He turned around and saw that Ginny was crying. He didn't say anything, just softly brushed his thumbs over her cheeks and held her close.
Minerva's head hurt. Not because of the Mors-Ad-Crutiam – she's had her fair share of painful attacks during the last couple of hours – but because of the many questions that had been fired at her during her speech. She leaned back against the bench and closed her eyes for a moment; her head resting against Hogwarts' cold façade. She felt the warmth of the morning sun shining upon her face and allowed herself to – just for a moment – enjoy the peace and quietness. Somehow, her feet had carried her– like in trance – through the demolished entrance hall, towards a hidden bay at the shore of the black lake where a wooden swing tangled from a lonely tree that had grown through the stone. It was her secret spot; the one she had stumbled upon by pure accident while she was running with tears streaming down her cheeks like rivers after she had heard about her parents' death.
The ebony haired witch sighed and listened to the calming sound of the waves breaking at the shore.
It felt like answering all the question had sucked the energy right out of her fragile body…
"Rumour has it that Madam Umbridge has been taken prisoner?"
"What about the Death Eaters' bodies? Will they be buried next to our loved ones?"
"Are Hogwarts' grounds still safe?"
"How are we supposed to treat these traitors?"
"Can anyone help my mummy, please?"
Thus far, Minerva had managed to keep a straight and professional face while answering, but staring right into the teary eyes of this little brown haired first year, who was standing over the body of his dead mother was her breaking point.
Images of people she had loved and lost came crashing down upon her; her parents, Athena, Monty, Aurora, Lily and James, William…
She didn't remember for how long she had been standing at the top of the Great Hall – frozen, and every single eye directed towards her. Eventually, Albus had come to her rescue. He strode towards her, led one of his strong arms around her trembling body and helped her descend the stairs until she was wrapped in Augusta's embrace.
And although the audience in the Hall was shocked to see the usually stern, strong and self-confident Headmistress close to fainting, the fact that Albus Dumbledore had apparently returned from the dead caused the people to chatter and squeal in utter astonishment.
Mumbling a quick 'thank you' to Augusta and after making eye-contact with her husband once more, the transfiguration mistress used the uproar she knew Albus had created only for her to sneak out unnoticedly.
Moving her feet on the ground, the swing swayed softly back and forth. It reminded her of the peaceful times when she had sat on snuggled up on her father's lap in front of the old chimney's cracking fire – listening to sound of his soothing baritone voice when Apollo read her a bedtime story and savouring the feathery feeling of his lips against her forehead when he kissed her good-night.
Minerva sighed and wiped a way a lonely tear that had rolled down her cheeks. She had learned a long time ago that it didn't do well to dwell on the past. Not to mention dangerous… thinking about the many sleepless nights she had spent in front of the Mirror of Erised, letting herself slip further and further away from reality…
"Minerva?" a familiar voice suddenly interrupted the silence, and the emerald-eyed witch jumped involuntarily.
Putting her feet down on the sand, she stopped swinging and watched as Poppy half walked, half fell down the rocky cliff.
Coughing and cursing alike, the mediwitch came to a stop right in front of Minerva. Shaking her head, she dusted herself off and Minerva's lips twitched in a bit of amusement. Poppy's always had a problem with dirt and she could only guess how many times the mediwitch had already changed her robes since the battle. Now, however, her light blue wardrobe was stained with colours of brown and green.
"I will never understand how you manage to get down here without breaking your neck…" she mumbled and sat down on one of the giant rocks located opposite of the swing in the water.
Minerva gave a small, sad smile. "Years of practice, Poppy."
Poppy rolled her light blue eyes and tried to get rid of the last bit of sand that was still stuck in her grey-is blonde ponytail.
Then she turned her head and looked over the lake. "You haven't been down here in a while."
The ebony-haired beauty shrugged. "It's hard to disappear when you're constantly watched by the Carrows and their people."
For a moment, Poppy didn't speak. "They're both dead."
Minerva looked up.
"I borrowed Potter's map," the mediwitch continued, "to complete my list."
"Of the deceased?"
"Yes. But there are so many, Minerva… I – I stopped counting how many names I've already written down…"
"Where did you find them? Alecto and Amycus?"
"Apparently somewhere in the Ravenclaw Common room. But it's no wonder, almost all of the ceilings have collapsed."
Minerva cringed visibly and a wave of nausea hit her. "Well, I guess I've got two more people to add on my list then…"
Poppy stared at her friend confused.
"I left them there," Minerva whispered in a hoarse voice, "tied up and hanging from the ceiling."
A couple of decades ago, pretty and ambitious medical-student Penelope Lilyana Pompfrey – brought up in a peaceful and loving home far away from any sort of violence – would have been shocked to hear a confession like this one. But years of friendship and living through three wars had changed her, too. Now, older and much more experienced, the blonde just shrugged and kept on staring on the water.
"Casualties of war, Min. They all are," was all she said, and Minerva knew that Poppy was thinking about Luke; the muggle-born Ravenclaw who had been injured a couple of years after Grindelwald's fall and whom she had – in vain – tried to heal. He was the first patient the young mediwitch had lost.
'You'll always remember your first,' Poppy now yearly lectures her own medical interns at the Ascplepius institute of Higher Healing.
Minutes passed without either of the two friends speaking; both lost in their own thoughts of the past.
"What brings you down here anyway?" Minerva finally broke the silence. Albeit being amongst the few people who knew that when troubled, one could find her here, Poppy usually avoided the bay – or more precisely, the water. Which was, on the other hand, not surprising for a woman who almost drowned as a child.
The blonde shifted nervously on her rock and fingered nervously with the fabric of her robe.
"There's something I wanted to talk to you about."
Minerva raised an eyebrow. "And that couldn't wait?"
"I've already waited far too long. I – I should have confessed this years ago."
Harry noticed that the Mablomi's waves had almost lost all its red colouring, meaning that the memory that was about to play would probably be the last before they'd be thrown out again. But the more the merrier and if he was honest with himself, he'd rather enjoy as many memories about Arina, Professor McGonagall, Aidan and Dumbledore than facing his Aunt Petunia. Despite defeating Voldemort, the blonde woman living in Number 4, Privet Drive, was still giving him a rather nauseous feeling… He was more than grateful that Ginny decided to go with him.
…
| September 1954 | Asclepius Institute of Higher Healing | Intern station |
With her ebony hair bound together in a high ponytail, a green travelling coat floating behind her, 18-year-old Minerva strode down the long corridors of the magical teaching hospital until she reached her destination. Looking unhealthily pale, she took one last deep breath before she opened the door to the examination room with shaking hands.
A young, curvy version of Madam Pompfrey sat on the desk, apparently busy with paperwork. She had long, straight blond hair that was flowing down her shoulders and – to Harry's astonishment – wore quite a lot of make-up.
"What in Merlin's name are you doing here?" the blonde asked, surprised and perhaps a bit irritated. Then, after taking a closer look at her friend, the mediwitch-in-training wore a rather worried expression. "Minerva, are you alright?"
The dark-haired witch only shook her head and bit her lip. Swaying dangerously, Poppy guided her towards the examination couch.
"I need you to cast an examination spell," the emerald-eyed witch whispered hoarsely.
Blonde eyebrows shot up questioningly. "Now why – "
"Can you just do it?"
There was something unusually edgy to her voice. The medi-witch looked concerned, but didn't comment on it and just got her wand as well as an ancient spell book out of her desk-drawer.
"Lie down. And hold still, for Merlin's sake," the blonde added with an eyeroll.
Mumbling some complicated incantations, lights started to swimmer over the ebony-haired witch's body until – some minutes later – a purple shining light hoovered over Minerva's lower abdomen.
Whatever Poppy Pompfrey had expected to happen, it apparently wasn't this. Her blue eyes widened in shock, her mouth opened and closed repeatedly and she dropped the spellbook in her hand.
The emerald-eyed witch on the other hand had blinked away the tears – a stoned expression on her face.
Trembling heavily, the witch got up and wordlessly headed towards the door.
"What do you think you're doing, Minerva?" Poppy asked, outraged, once she had snapped out of her stunned silence.
"I need to get out of here," the brunette whispered, her voice almost failing her.
Energetically, Poppy crossed the room, and shut the door close in front of her friend.
"Damn it, Minerva," the mediwitch cursed out of character. "You can't just walk out of here like nothing happened!"
Lips thinned.
"How long have you known before you came here?"
"I only suspected it."
Blue eyes rolled.
"Have you told Albus?"
Minerva swallowed hard. "No."
The blonde shook her head. "You're three months along, Minerva! Don't you think Albus – "
One of the windows at the end of the room burst.
"No," the witch whispered desperately, and tears rolled from her emerald eyes. "The child's not his."
Poppy once more stared at her friend, speechless. (So did Harry and Ginny).
"But – "
"And he will never find out about it."
"Minerva …"
The 18-year-old blinked away the tears. "I'm sorry, Poppy."
"Sorry? What are you – "
"Obliviate," Minerva whispered, her voice filled with regret.
A cloud of blue smoke swirled around the blonde's head and within seconds, the emerald-eyed witch had snuck out of the door.
…
| January 5th 1955 | London Southfields |
Still in shock about the earlier memory, Harry and Ginny appeared in a small, slightly dusty, but cosy and comfortable looking flat, located right next to London's Oxford Theatre.
On the outside, heavy raindrops pattered against the window frames, and across the room, a roaring fire blazed in the chimney.
Suddenly, the peaceful silence was disturbed by a woman's earthshattering scream, followed – some mere seconds later – by the sound of an innocent infant's cry.
Then, an older version of Victoria Bailey came rushing through the living room door. She raced into the bathroom, and returned with a bunch of green towels and blankets, before she returned to the master bedroom.
Harry and Ginny used the opportunity to follow the short, caramel-haired women.
The sight that greeted them had them catching their breaths.
Prepped up against pillows at the front end of the four-poster-bed rested a young Minerva McGonagall with her long ebony hair flowing messily down her shoulders. She was quite pale – clearly exhausted – but at the same time glowing; with flushed cheeks and a bit of sweat on her forehead. Tears of both pain and joy shimmered in her emerald eyes, and they lit up when Bay approached her and handed her the small child, wrapped securely in thousands of soft and cosy blankets.
"It's a boy, Min," Bay whispered, almost crying herself as she placed the boy in his mother's arms. "You've got a beautiful and dashingly handsome baby-boy."
Unable to speak, the tears rolled down her cheeks and the ebony-haired witch half cried, half smiled when she carefully touched the child's tiny hands. Immediately, the new-born wrapped his tiny fingers around hers.
Bay remained standing next to them, a tiny, but albeit sad smile on her face.
"Min… I don't really know much about the magical world… but are you sure you want to go through with this?"
The witch didn't take her eyes of the child.
"It breaks my heart, Bay, but…" she swallowed hard, "… but… he can't stay with me. It's too dangerous. If – if someone – his father – were to find out… they'd hurt him, Bay."
The last part was said in nothing but a hoarse, emotional and painful whisper.
"You know people, Bay," the witch continued, desperately, "You're gonna find him a loving family, won't you? Far away from the wizarding world… where no one will ever find him?"
The caramel-haired woman, her hazel eyes on the child, seemed to be lost in her own thoughts.
"Bay?"
She took a deep breath, then smiled ever-so-slightly.
"I'll adopt him."
Emerald eyes widened. "What?"
"There are foster families… but… I love you, Min… and if you allow it, I'll love your little boy even more," Bay added, smiling.
Tears of relief and happiness rolled down the young witch's cheeks. Then, careful not to wake the sleeping boy in her arms, she pushed herself in an upright position – albeit wincing at the pain it caused her so shorty after birth.
"You don't have to do this, Bay…"
Bay softly stroked the infant's cheeks. "I want to, Min. I'm not able to have kids on my own, you know. And I've always wanted a child."
Minerva swallowed hard. "Thanks, Bay. I – I -" she clearly struggled to let go of her child.
"Min, take your time."
"It will be the last time I'll see him," the witch whispered. Then her eyes widened. "The last time I'll see you."
Bay nodded. "I know. And I'll miss you a hell of a lot. But he's worth it. And we'll keep in touch," she added after some thoughts.
Minerva's eyes widened. "But – "
"I know that no one can make the connection between the two of you," Bay cut her off quickly. "But no one will suspect anything when an old muggle friend of yours writes you a couple of letters about her 'muggle' son's life."
A tiny smile appeared on the witch's face. "Only letters?"
"Yes. No names, no details, no pictures… just the most important things… like when he's getting married or something."
A small giggle escaped her. "Bay, please, I don't wanna think of my wee little boy to be getting married any time soon."
"Me either," Bay laughed, "but once he will, I'll let you know. And one day, when he's old enough to understand, I'll tell him the truth about you."
The old grandfather clock struck, and Minerva's eyes filled with tears once more.
"Thanks for everything, Bay," she whispered, heart-broken, when she got up.
The little boy used that moment to wake up, and – without screaming – he smiled the cutest of smiles and blinked at both women with amazing sparkling emerald eyes – Minerva's eyes.
Crying, Minerva cradled the boy lovingly in her arms, before she softly kissed her son on the forehead for one last time; then she placed her son in her friend's arms.
"I don't know who I can thank you for this, Bay."
Bay smiled, the child in her arms, and hugged her friend. "Tell me a name. I'm terrible with names."
A tiny smile graced Minerva's features, and as if he knew the women were talking about him, the little boy giggled softly.
"Aries William," she said and looked at her son with pride.
The caramell-haired woman looked pleased. "After your father and the god of war. Fitting," she added, "though I might switch them around… make it a bit more muggle appropriate, if you know what I mean."
Minerva nodded approvingly. "Do whatever you think is best for him. And …" she took a deep breath, then took of her necklace, of which the McGonagall family heirloom tumbled – the 'M' crest neatly engraved – and put it around her son's neck, "I charmed my father's ring so that it will contain his magic. It's supposed to be passed on in the family to the first child, and… well, so he'll have something from me."
"It's a wonderful idea, Min," Bay said and smiled at the boy in her arms.
Minerva softly stroke her son's cheek once more and a tear rolled from her own emerald eyes. "I love you, my wee little lion. I love you so much. Never forget that."
This said, the 18-year-old hugged Victoria Bailey and kissed her son goodnight for the last time, before she apparated away – lost, broken-hearted and with tears tumbling down her cheeks like rivers.
…
Bloody waves of red burst into the scene, tore the picture apart and within seconds, Harry and Ginny found themselves back on the grounds of Grodric's Hollows Graveyard – staring at each other in utter disbelief, wondering, with their own hearts aching, at how much grieve and pain a woman could handle. And especially, how much more sorrowful things had happened to their Deputy Headmistress that she had never told anyone about and just buried inside of her… and apart from that, the point that worried Harry the most was finding out about the reason that had caused the usually so strong and confident witch to hide her child in the first. He had a feeling that something really terrible must have happened and his body started trembling at the mere thought of it…
To be continued...
.
Hello dear readers!
Yes! I've finally gotten around to write another chapter *yay*
Sorry for the incredibly long wait ...
I hope you all like it! Let me know!
And thanks so much for all your lovely reviews! They really keep me going and give me the 'happy-feeling' that has me continueing the story!
All the best,
Lex
