((Thank you for the lovely reviews. Whenever I'm in the dumps I just open them up and feel a little better.
I received a question about why Hermione hasn't recognized McGonagall's animagus. In the books Minerva's cat form has white markings around her eyes like glasses, so for the purpose of the story I figured if she isn't wearing her glasses when she transforms, then her animagus wouldn't have the distinguishing mark. Onward!))
On the last day before she was to join Professor Mcgonagall in Scotland, Hermione had a brainwave that gave her a buzz of pride. If she couldn't find her teacher a gift then she'd make one. It seemed silly that sitting in a magic castle she hadn't thought of it before. There were a lot of things she could create or transfigure, but to make it especially special she could use the spell she had come up with in one of her previous years and alter it for this occasion. Hermione needed to do a spot of research to make sure it was possible, so with a splash of enthusiasm that had been missing from her life she set off to the library, a jar and knitting essentials in hand. For five hours she read, tested, snuck through the forbidden section and scorched the desks in the library with zeal until she was certain that this present would last safely. Then she wrapped it up snugly in a box.
That night she packed her bag and tidied her room, leaving a knitted beanie on the floor even though she knew it would still be there when she returned. She had figured out that it was Dobbie who accepted all her little tokens, and this was a gift for the departed friend. Then she waited, hoping the tabby would show so that she could give it the collar. It never did and she fell asleep with the little box beside her on the bed, exhausted but happy with the day's work.
The next day Hermione slept in, managing almost six whole hours so she was well rested when she walked down to the library to pick out a book for light reading while she was away. On the way she ran into (or rather through) Nearly Headless Nick who stopped her to apologize for scaring her the other night. McGonagall had told her that the most likely cause of the disturbance was a new ghost that hadn't quite pulled itself together into a visible apparition. Its behavior suggested it was a poltergeist similar to Peeves and because of the timing it was probably killed during the Battle of Hogwarts the last year. An eavesdropping portrait of a little girl piped in that she had heard it was the soul of Lord Voldemort returned. This news sent a shiver down Hermione's spine even though she knew it couldn't be the evil wizard- his soul had been split into eight parts and all of it destroyed. He couldn't possibly be back as a ghost or any other form.
At three o'clock Hermione met the professor in her office. Minerva looked from the student to the purse she was carrying.
"Where's your bag? You're going to need clothes," she said. The brunette grinned and shook her purse, the contents moving noisily. "Ah, but of course." Hermione had used the undetectable extension charm while travelling with Harry and found it was easier than taking a suitcase.
When they were both ready the older woman offered her elbow and Hermione linked their arms, holding tight in case she were to splint by accident. McGonagall patted her hand before the ground disappeared from under them and the familiar, but unsettling feeling of being sucked down the drain took over. Hermione squeezed her eyes tight, fighting the travel-sickness she always felt while apparating. At last their feet slammed into the ground and the girl lurched forward, held up only by her teacher's steady hold.
At the first, dizzy glance Hermione might have thought that she was still in the teacher's office because there were still roof-reaching bookshelves and a desk so similar to the one at the school, however there was no fire in this room, no school colors and the only portrait was that of Dumbledore. Instead, this circular room was decorated by the McGonagall coat of arms, which was green and gold, and a poster of the family tree, the bottom half apparently burnt off.
"Where are we?" asked Hermione curiously.
"In my home. This is my office. Follow me, I'll show you around quickly. I have things to put in order while you're settling in."
Minerva strode through the door into a hallway and proceeded to name rooms, her arm still entwined with Hermione's. They didn't enter any of the rooms in this part of the house, because as Minerva mentioned, they were mostly empty other than family heirlooms that seemed to move from room to room by themselves. In fact, she didn't know why, but rooms that had been chosen by someone long ago would change place so you couldn't find them again. It made storage quite a bother. Hermione wondered if most old wizarding houses did the same thing. After wandering around the top floor, Minerva opened a guest room and declared it to be Hermione's while she was staying and when the girl had put her small bag on a desk she pointed to the room two doors down. That was her bedroom, so if there was anything Hermione needed, that was where to go. Once they had toured the top floor the two witches went down to the ground floor and Hermione gawked at the size of it. It should have been impossible for the roof to be so high when the staircase wasn't nearly that long. But it was, and a fire was already blazing in front of two luxurious looking armchairs and a sofa. Photos of people from long, long ago covered one wall and Hermione gazed at the faces, searching for anyone familiar. There was just one that she recognized because she had seen it before. It was the same portrait of the Order of the Phoenix that she had seen at the Black residence.
"Come along, Hermione" McGonagall called and the wide-eyed girl followed into the dining room and kitchen. "Hermione, this is Zena," she introduced, motioning to an elderly, blue eyed house elf with a wide smile and a tartan blanket with a hole for a dress.
"Pleasure, miss," said Zena as she curtsied.
To be polite, Hermione said, "Nice to meet you," although she was inwardly frustrateted that this splendid woman who she looked up to would keep a house elf.
"There is someone I have to see for an hour or so, and Zena has offered to keep you company. Do you have any questions?"
Hermione wanted to ask how she could enslave a house elf, but instead she shook her head.
"Very good." Minerva gave Hermione's shoulder an affable squeeze. "I won't be gone long, but it'll give you time to unpack and maybe write to Harry."
"Okay." She didn't really want to be left alone in this mysterious house.
Before she left, Minerva gave a warm smile to both Hermione and Zena before apparating.
The moment she left, the house elf pointed to a seat and said excitedly, "Sit, sit, sit. You have to eat first."
"Oh, no thank you. I should go-"
"No, no, no, you must eat. It is good to have someone here at last. I have missed Minny much and she hasn't had anyone but those nice men over for years and years." The old elf looked so excited to have someone around that Hermione obeyed.
As Zena zipped around the kitchen Hermione's thoughts lingered on that childish nickname. Minny. "What nice men does she have over?" she asked curiously. The moment she said it she knew it was none of her business, but the old elf was talking again already.
"Oh, she used to have nice men here all the time. I liked Albie. He was the nicest nice young man. Very sad what happened. Mmhmm." Hermione figured that she was talking about Albus Dumbledore. This didn't surprise her. "And there's the young man down at the Scottish Council. He nice, but not as nice as Albie. Albie never tried nothing. Made him very nice. I very glad she brought you over. Hasn't had any friends here for long, long, long time." Zena giggled and brought a plate of sandwiches over. There was more than Hermione knew she could eat, but she took a small bite to be polite anyway. It was horrible.
"I didn't think Professor McGonagall would have a house elf," she mused aloud.
"I been looking after this house since Minny was really mini," there was another giggle, "she's my little girl. But she moved to England long ago and I only sees her sometimes. She still sends me letters, though. And that nice but not as nice as Albie man comes and visits sometimes when the house be naughty. You're not eating."
Hermione ate the sandwich and tried not to taste it. It felt like a kind of jam, but tasted like marmite.
"Do you wish you were free sometimes?" She asked, wondering if McGonagall would ever let her go.
"No, no, no! Never ever. Minny is my little girl. I wouldn't leave my home even if someone gave me a closet of clothesies. Is my home too, you know."
Hermione just nodded politely and tried to eat as many of the horrible sandwiches as she could.
