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Chapter 8 – Minerva McGonnagall

"By the end of August that year, most of Britain had started to feel hopeful again," Albus recalled. "I'm sure, Elijah, that you remember those summer months – that we were certain victory was days away."

Elijah nodded. "The thwarted occupation of Sicily, the arrest of Mussolini, the air-raid in Hamburg; we were all sure it meant that the end of the war was near. I had friends in the aurors' office who joined the muggle military to help move it along more quickly."

"I, too, had wizard friends that began to cooperate with the muggles in that regard," Nicholas added. "It was a sight I thought I'd never see in my lifetime, long as it has been – wizards and muggles united by a common enemy." His expression became thoughtful, and Albus knew that Nicholas had long harbored a desire to see better cooperation. To Nicholas, such a concept represented the next step in human evolution, where peace and tolerance were the fashion. Albus had also longed for that ideal, though he suspected that either he was more pessimistic than Nicholas, or perhaps more realistic, as he believed that such an achievement would not happen for hundreds of years.

"To our surprise, two of the faculty took that same bold step," Albus stated, staring at a point on the wall for no reason he could explain. "It happened so quickly that we feared we'd enter the school session without professors for history and muggle studies. I managed to persuade Cuthbert Binns to return to his former post as professor for history of magic, despite the lack of notice. Alas, he shall not leave that post again, I'm afraid."

"Why?" Elijah asked idly.

"Don't you recall the story in the Prophet last year?" Nicholas responded, surprise in his tone. Elijah's brow knit as if he were struggling to remember

"He passed away," Albus supplied. "But Professor Binns was always a very focused instructor and was so wrapped up in his lecture that he failed to notice his body had not traveled with him."

"Oh, the ghost teacher!" Elijah exclaimed. "I skimmed that story and I guess it didn't sink in well." He looked momentarily apologetic. "So you filled that position and I assume that the other position was filled by Lorelei."

"Precisely," Albus replied. "But strangely, it was not I who realized she was perfect for the job. That was Headmaster Dippet." In fact, it was a solution to a problem Dippet had been struggling to find a way to discuss with Albus at the time. Even though students were often not aware that some of the faculty had families at Hogwarts, the Headmaster had been concerned about public reaction to his deputy living with a woman he was not married to. Such relationships had been in and out of fashion throughout history. The current trend was disapproval, and with the magical community scrutinizing Albus' decision to take responsibility for Hagrid, it was likely to magnify his situation.

Albus could remember how Armando Dippet had stuttered as he struggled to find the tactful words to explain the situation. When Albus had finally understood what the Headmaster was suggesting, he had very nearly laughed. As more time elapsed, Dippet was getting more sensitive to public opinions, while Albus was beginning to care less what the rest of the world wanted.

"I -- I was hoping—" Dippet had licked his lips and tried again. "Perhaps if Ms. Figg would consent to join the faculty and – and have her own living space for – for appearances…" When Albus smiled, Dippet had looked so relieved that one might have thought he was talking his way out of an execution.

"That's a splendid idea!" Albus had responded. "She would be a fine choice for muggle studies." He had thought that Lorelei would need more than Hagrid to occupy her time, especially once the boy was busy assisting Ogg, whose job always quadrupled with the return of the students.

"She'll do it then?" Dippet had asked, wiping his brow.

"Well, you'll have to ask her, of course. I'm not in a position to make her decisions for her," Albus had said.

Dippet leaned forward in his chair slightly. "Dumbledore," he started. "Do you intend to make your arrangement more permanent?"

Albus could remember feeling again like an awkward teenager being asked to declare his intentions. Although he tended to think of his relationship as a permanent one, it was not entirely up to him, and knew it was not the time to discuss it with Lorelei, while she was still adjusting to the split from her family. "We have not yet talked about it," he answered honestly. "Lorelei is a free spirit, and not quite ready to be tied down. If she agrees to teach, we will keep our relationship from the public eye, though I may have to employ some intimidation to keep Peeves from declaring it to the school."

By the end of the day, Lorelei had been asked to accept the post as Professor of Muggle Studies. She had wholeheartedly agreed. Albus and Hagrid had helped her move some of her things and set up her office, and when school started three days later, all those who saw Ms. Figg moving about Hogwarts thought that she was simply there as a faculty member.

Albus had resumed teaching. Between those responsibilities, tending his duties as head of Gryffindor House, watching over Hagrid (who could be a handful) and working to keep his time with Lorelei out of the hands of the school gossips, Albus had had little time to worry over Wilhelm Grindelwald. In fact he didn't give the man much thought until one chill October afternoon when he returned to his office to find Minerva McGonnagall waiting there.

Minerva was dressed in crisp green robes, and her long black hair had been twisted into a tight knot at the back of her head. Not a hair was out of place, yet Albus knew, the moment he saw her, that the girl was troubled.

"Minerva McGonnagall, what a lovely surprise!" He stated in greeting. "What brings you back to Hogwarts so soon?"

She stood and waited there until he took his seat behind the desk, regarding him with uncertainty. "Professor Dumbledore," she started. Even her voice seemed stressed. "You – you told me that if I ever needed guidance…" She seemed so uncharacteristically frantic, that he found himself searching her eyes for the answer. She was frightened, and whatever had frightened her, someone she'd told her confidence to had shooed her away.

Albus lifted his wand, flicking it to shut the office door and bar any noise from escaping. "Minerva, you know you can come to me with anything, even if you think I might find it preposterous. You've never been the sort to jump to conclusions," he'd said frankly.

The girl looked at him like she was on the edge of tears. "I – Professor Dumbledore, I've seen something I should not have and – I have reason to believe that someone with a great deal of influence at the Ministry of Magic might be – might be fraternizing with the enemy."

He'd folded his hands and waited as she first explained the job she'd been hired to do by Wilhelm Grindelwald. It was monotonous work really, sorting through box upon box of damaged records, restoring what was salvageable and discarding much which was not. Of the students hired, only Minerva could read enough German to sometimes guess missing fragments to properly repair singed pages. Those items which could not be repaired magically were often brought to her, or set aside for Grindelwald so that he might fill in the missing sections.

During a recent week while Grindelwald had been in Scotland, his team of employees had continued on without him. Many of the documents were incomplete and the stack waiting for him had grown alarmingly. Thinking that she could help out and possibly earn enough of a recommendation to advance a career for herself, Minerva had scanned through some of the pages in the pile and had been surprised to discover that one was the personal journal of one Fritz Nederhausen, the German Minister of Magic who had been killed in the explosion that destroyed the German Ministry. Grindelwald's name had appeared repeatedly throughout as Nederhausen documented threats made by the former, as well as intelligence reports that linked Grindelwald to Adolph Hitler.

Albus sighed heavily, reaching across the desk to pat Minerva's hand and reassure her. He lifted his wand and made a mug of tea appear and a plate of biscuits. "Minerva, may I assume that you took this evidence directly to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?"

"Absolutely," she responded, as if he should never have had to question it. But then the former head-girl's face fell. "I was accused of having manufactured it, Professor Dumbledore." She stared directly into his eyes. "But I swear on the grave of Merlin that I did not. I've believed that Grindelwald was a decent man and that I was lucky for the opportunity given. I never dreamed…"

"Of course you didn't manufacture this," Dumbledore replied, feeling affronted for the girl. "You simply did what you had been taught was right, only to discover that politics often disregard hard truth for what is easy."

She smiled gratefully. "You believe me," it was only then that a few tears escaped her eyes. Minerva immediately retrieved a tartan kerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes, apologizing for her display as she did so.

"No apologies, please. You have every right to be frustrated and angry. Crouch should be ashamed of putting his political aspirations before the good of world." He forced himself to stop before he vented his own frustrations with Crouch and Minister Starkey. "I assume the evidence you provided was confiscated?"

"Yes," she replied, but then smiled. "However, it was not the original. I always work from a magical copy first, in case I've made a mistake."

Dumbledore smiled broadly. "And the original?"

She retrieved a carpet bag that had been resting under the edge of the desk. "I brought it with me."

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