"Who is it?" Lavender asked nobody in particular.

"What is it?" Seamus asked. Everyone stared at the figure on the floor in front of them. Harry reached down to remove the hood of its cloak. When he did, a collective gasp issued from the group around him.

Minerva McGonagall woke abruptly. She looked around the room, trying to remember where she was. After a moment she recognized her all-too-familiar surroundings. She had spent many a joyful hour in this office as a guest, so it was very hard for her to become accustomed to it being her own. Minerva looked up at the empty portrait that had been recently hung on the wall behind her desk. She had been contemplating, before she had fallen asleep at her desk, where Albus had another portrait. It seemed to her now to be a rather silly topic to ponder. Albus Dumbledore had been the greatest wizard of his time (which was saying something, as he had lived for a very long time) and was bound to have numerous portraits hung in various places all over the world.

She looked down at the paperwork she had been working on when she had dozed off. For the past four months, ever since Albus had been murdered, she had been constantly filling out paperwork, writing letters to appease the ministry and concerned parents, and trying to figure out how on earth she was going to fill her predecessor's shoes. The Headmistress sighed heavily at the dreadful task of corresponding with Rufus Scrimgeour and looked at the elegant grandfather clock that stood in the corner. Three o'clock in the morning. Deciding that she would finish in the morning (or later on that morning), Minerva rose from her chair and made her way to the tapestry of the Scottish Highlands that hung on the wall next to the clock. "Lemon Drop," she said to the tapestry. It magically dissolved away, revealing the small corridor that led to her rooms. Minerva was halfway down the corridor when she realized that she had left her wand at her desk. Going anywhere without a wand was a very stupid thing to do these days, so Minerva grudgingly turned back to her office to retrieve it. She smiled with a small chuckle and shook her head as she looked up to the frames of deceased Heads and saw that Albus Dumbledore had returned but was sleeping like a baby.

She picked up her wand and was about to utter the password to her rooms for the second time when there was a knock on the door. The mystery visitor surprised her momentarily, but she was comforted by the fact that a very limited number of people knew the password to the spiral staircase that led to her office door. She made her way to the door, but stopped suddenly. What if it was a trap? What if, on the other side of the door, there was a Death Eater who had forced the password out of someone she trusted and was just waiting for her to open the door so whoever it was could kill her? Minerva considered not answering the door and just going back to her room. Even if an imposter made it into her office, and even if they knew where the hidden entrance to her rooms was, no living soul knew the password besides Minerva. But if it really was an imposter, would they bother knocking first or would they just barge in and kill anything and everything in the room? Taking her chances, Minerva continued gingerly towards the door.

Her hand on the doorknob, another thought occurred to Minerva. She could perform the stunning spell as soon as she opened the door to catch a potentially unfriendly visitor off guard, and if it wasn't an imposter, she would simply apologize and explain her reasoning later. Minerva turned the doorknob slowly then yanked the door open as quickly as she could, yelled, "Stupefy!" and slammed the door. Now, very cautiously, she opened the door wide and looked out at her mystery guest. When the Headmistress saw the person who was crumpled on the floor at her feet, all composure was forgotten as she let out a bloodcurdling scream before falling to the floor in a dead faint. If she had been able to see, Minerva would have been very disappointed to see that the newest frame behind her desk was empty once again.

Hundreds of miles away, two men were speaking by candlelight.

"You're positive he was there?"

"I'm absolutely positive. I came straight here as soon as I saw him."

"What about the mirror? Did you take care of it?"

"No, but I gave it to-"

"WHAT? YOU DIDN'T DO IT YET? WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM? "

"I assure you, it is in very good hands. I never had a chance to take care of it, but there are people that I know I can trust with the task. The job will be done, I promise."

"Alright, but make it quick. Rónaszék is getting tired of waiting. He might have already sent someone after her."

The eight seventh-years could not believe their eyes. They all stared down at the person lying on the floor before them. After the initial shock wore off enough for them to pull their eyes away from the person they had attacked, the rest of the group all looked at Harry, who was still staring at the person at their feet. Hermione quietly whispered the counter-jinx to her full-body bind and the figure sat up and leaned against the wall. The person tried to stand up but was shaking too badly from the after-effect of the curses it they had been the victim of. Giving up on standing, the figure leaned back on the wall and looked at Harry.

"You!" Harry said angrily to the man that was now leaning limply on the wall. Harry didn't know whether to embrace the man or put another hex on him. He decided on giving the man the dirtiest look he could muster.
"Come now, Harry," said the man in a very dry, croaky voice that sounded as though it hadn't been put to use in a very long time, "Is that any way to greet your godfather?"