There had never been a more frantic knocking on the door to McGonagall Manor. At least there had been none in Minerva's memory and likely there had been few in the long history of the house.
Minerva, who slept lightly and was the only other person in the mansion other than her father (who did not), moved quickly through the house's long, dark hallways and down the antique stairs to answer the door, wondering vaguely, though somewhat sleepily, who could possibly be knocking at their door. Most people they knew simply contacted them through the floo network and the muggles that lived in the nearby village regarded them as a rather odd family. She could think of no one who would actually come up to their door and knock on it in the dead of night.
She opened the door to a man she vaguely recognized as one of her father's friends. The man's greying hair was full of sweat and standing wildly on end. His eyes, an odd yellowish color, were wild with terror. A slight bit of fear began to seed itself in Minerva as she looked upon the man. What on earth could possibly have frightened him so?
"Minerva!" he choked, as he hung onto the doorframe for support. "Thank God! Run and get your father, child. Hurry! They can't be far behind me."
She did not need to ask who "they" were. She was already quite aware. "They" were—"they" could only be—Grindelwald's followers. This was one of her father's spies and she could tell by his attitude that he'd done two things of great consequence. First, he'd found out something important that her father needed to hear about immediately. Second, he'd been uncovered as a spy. Grindelwald and his followers knew what he was and that he knew something they did not want him to know. As a result, they were chasing after him.
They were chasing him, and he'd come here. Here to the McGonagall Manor—to her home. Grindelwald's followers were not far behind him and he was standing on her doorstep, gasping for air.
Minerva hurtled herself from the doorway and up the stairs towards her parents bedroom. Partially propelled by the wild fear that had taken hold of her—for there was nothing more frightening to her than the idea of Grindelwald himself, the scourge of the magical world, turning up at her front door—she moved faster than she could ever remember moving.
"Father!" she called, bursting into the room. "Father!"
She moved to him and began shaking him into wakefulness.
Come on! she thought desperately. Wake up!
Her father's hazel eyes began fluttering open. The fog of drowsiness in them began to disappear quickly as they focused on Minerva's face.
"Minerva?" he said, sitting up. "What is it?"
"A man is at the door. He says it's urgent."
He looked at her appraisingly for a second.
"It's one of your spies!" she told him in exasperation. What was he doing just sitting there staring at her for? He, better than anyone else, knew exactly what it meant and how dangerous it was when someone seemingly randomly showed up at their house saying something was urgent.
Her father's eyes widened and he flew out of bed. He was running down the stairs, his black hair, normally tied into a neat ponytail at the nape of his neck, flowing out behind him. He reached the front door long before Minerva did and by the time she could hear her father and his spy speaking they were already deep in conversation.
"And you're certain that's what they plan to do?" her father asked.
The spy nodded. "I cannot be certain how, exactly, that he is planning on doing it—I was found out about then—but that much I know."
Minerva's father looked more anxious to her than she'd ever seen him. "This could be an awful blow to us . . . Not only a great loss, but a terrible moral defeat for us. If we lose that castle, then people will lose hope."
Minerva wanted desperately to know exactly where her father was talking about. What could possibly be so important to the magical world that people would lose hope if they lost it? Was it the Ministry of Magic? Losing the center of their government would certainly be an amazing blow, but she had a hard time believing that Grindelwald could do that. He was powerful, that was quite certain, by the Ministry was on watch for him day and night. It did not seem possible or wise for him to attack the Ministry.
Where was it, then, that he was planning on attacking?
The spy nodded. "I must go, Tempus. I would hate to lead Grindelwald's men straight here to you and your family."
"As would I," her father agreed. "Thank you, Thomas. I will make sure that Hogwarts is secured against Grindelwald's coming attack. Go strait to the Ministry. The aurors should be more than able to protect you."
Suddenly her father's words made sense to Minerva. Hogwarts, though covered in protective barriers and protective charms, was quite vulnerable during the summer when most of the teachers were gone. A moonless summer night like this one was the perfect time to go and take the place that everyone associated with the future of magic. People would undeniably lose hope if Grindelwald succeeded.
Minerva felt sick to her stomach at the idea of Grindelwald walking through the halls of the castle that she spend most of the year in. Of him poking around in the office where she and Albus played chess . . .
But now, at least her father knew what Grindelwald was planning. He would never let that come to pass. Never. He was the greatest strategist alive. He was the greatest leader alive. He was the one who was going to bring Grindelwald down. Hogwarts was quite safe.
Some distance away, up on a hill and beyond the thick line of pine trees that surrounded the old gothic manor, a number of witches and wizards appeared. They began to move forward, toward the house, but were stopped by a barrier charm. A blonde figure moved forward through the small congregation and a series of red lights began firing at the barrier. Whoever that person was, they were trying to destroy the barrier.
My father made that barrier himself, thought Minerva. There's no way that one of Grindelwald's idiot followers could get through it.
But there was worry filling Minerva's stomach with what felt like lead. Her father was powerful, but there were a lot of people there and Grindelwald's followers were not all powerless. She felt scared—and the fact was that there was very good reason to be.
She saw the barrier shimmer. It was coming down. The deep blue hue that her hazel eyes normally held, began to pale perceptibly with fear. There had to be at least fifteen people there. Fifteen witches and wizards against two aged wizards and a sixteen year old witch. The odds were far from ideal.
She pelted back upstairs to her room. She'd been in such a hurry to get the door, and then to get to her father that she'd left her wand sitting on her night stand. She snatched the thin piece of ebony from where it sat peacefully in the moonlight and returned to the front door.
By the time she'd returned, her father's spy was gone. Minerva hadn't the faintest idea where he'd gone to. Had he just abandoned her father? There were fifteen people out there, ready to kill him. Her father had survived many assassination attempts, it was true, but that did not make leaving him to fend for himself at all loyal or even smart.
"Where's—"
But her father cut her off before she could finish her question. "I sent him to the Ministry, where he'd be safe. All he has to do is get through the trees and outside of the barrier so he can disapparate."
Minerva wondered vaguely whether her father was overestimating his spy's abilities to get away. She personally thought that both men would have been safer fending off their enemies together. Why the man had agreed to make a mad run for some distant idea of safety like a coward?
Her father turned toward her, his eyes hard and as green as the leaves in summer. His face, normally impassive and serene in its statue-esque good looks had never looked so stern. "You're to turn in you cat form and go to the Ministry as well, Minerva."
Minerva's mouth fell quickly open, a million and one arguments hot on her tongue. Her being an animagus was not some nifty tool to allow him to send her away when he needed all the help he could get. She was going to stay here and defend her father and her home. There was simply nothing else to be done. She was a Gryffindor and moreover she was a McGonagall. How could he expect her to, in a very literal sense, just turn tail and run?
"That's rubbish. I'm going to stay right here."
"You will do no such thing," he told her firmly. He pointed up to the top of the hill, where the lone wizard had just brought down the barrier. "Do you have any idea who that is, Minerva? That man marching up to our home is Grindelwald. He's come here because he finally knows exactly where I am and he's planning on getting rid of me."
Minerva's mouth flew open yet again. He held up a hand and she closed it as he continued.
"I may be able to end this tonight, Minerva. We could finally be free of Grindelwald. I can promise you, however, that that will not happen if I'm at all occupied with worries for your safety. Do you understand that?"
She nodded, her wand hanging limply in her hand. She felt more worried than she could ever possibly have imagined she could. That and terrified. She'd never been more scared. What if he failed? What would that mean for their world? For Hogwarts? For their family?
For herself.
More powerful than either of those emotions, however, was the powerful feeling of uselessness that filled her. There was nothing she could do in any of this. Trying to do something would be worse than doing nothing.
She seized her father in a hug tighter than any she'd given him since the age of eight. He squeezed her back firmly, and kissed her ebony hair. "I love you, Minerva. If I do not come out of this alive, make sure that your mother and siblings know the same."
She nodded wordlessly and disentangled herself from her father's arms. She had the most awful feeling in the pit of her stomach. She transformed into her animagi form of a tabby cat and walked slowly out of her home, throwing baleful glances back at her father as though begging him to reconsider.
Her father did not look at her as she walked away. Nor did he reconsider. Instead, he simply took a resolute step out of the doorway and toward the coming threat. He was going to meet the attacking force head on. They would likely not expect that. Normally his tactics were cautious and calculated. Meeting them directly, being so vastly outnumbered was reckless and hopefully that would give him the advantage of surprise. Then he could use the cover of the trees and use gorilla warfare against them.
There was a fair chance he could win this. That's what his tactical sense told him at least. His heart simply told him he was never going to see his wife and children again.