May I have some feedback on this chapter as a whole, please? It's rather long – would it have been better posted as one long installment, or do you prefer the fragmented approach? Also, I wonder whether the story is becoming predictable and boring. Any ideas for what could/will happen next?

Thanks for reading!

At various points in the past fifteen years, Minerva had been amused, frustrated, exasperated and infuriated by Albus Dumbledore. The incidence of these emotions had only increased in the five years since her appointment as Deputy Headmistress, when her own intensely organised and methodical self was forced into constant contact with one to whom those words were almost an anathema. Never, however, had she been as angry with him as she was now. As soon as the students had left the Great Hall to return to their dormitories, and the staff had followed, she turned on him.

"Why didn't you do anything more?" she demanded. "They know you saw them, the people who played those vicious tricks, they know you saw what they did ... and you're doing nothing about it! What kind of message does that send?!"

Dumbledore looked very grave. "What would you have me do? Identify them? Brand them? Expel them?"

"Yes! Anything but nothing at all - !" She was surprised to note that she was almost shaking.

"And if I expel them, what happens then? What will they do, once they're away from these walls?"

Minerva's fury began to diminish as she realised his point. "You're afraid of what they'll do away from Hogwarts," she stated. "You're afraid that they'll contribute to the deaths and disappearances... but still, Albus, by keeping them you're risking children. Children!"

"Children who are probably better guarded and protected than anyone else in our world," he reminded her, looking grimmer than she had seen him look in the quarter century since Grindlewald's defeat. "I know it's a risk, my dear, but it's a calculated risk. By keeping them here I can watch them, protect our world to some degree, and, I hope, influence them against the paths they seem to want to take. Can you blame me for that?"

"No. Not at all... but those poor children! Did you see the looks on their faces? The muggleborns didn't really seem to understand it, but I'm certain that most of the purebloods did, and I imagine that the younger ones will not have the sense to keep quiet. There's going to be panic in the houses unless I'm much mistaken - except perhaps in Slytherin," she added bitterly. "I wouldn't be surprised if they celebrated."

"Minerva, Minerva, you must not be so prejudiced!"

"I haven't been - until tonight, but I cannot stand by and watch children being terrorised because of something they have no control over!"

The Headmaster put a hand on her shoulder. "Terrorised? That's a strong word for what amounted to little more than a cruel trick."

She gritted her teeth. "And what next? Muggleborns hexed in the halls? More children tortured? It's only a few weeks since Charles Diggle was crucio'd in our very courtyard. Do not fool yourself into believing that our students are as innocent as we would like them to be!"

"Believe me, I do not." The twinkle was quite gone from Dumbledore's eyes. "Perhaps I am merely - what is the Muggle saying - giving them enough rope to hang themselves with? Those responsible for the attack on Diggle have been warned. Another step out of line and I will call the Aurors in - and after that their fate is out of my hands."

"And in meantime they will still act, but do it so secretively, so cunningly, that you - even you! - will not know. When they leave school they will do the same... how does that help us, how?"

He raised his bushy eyebrows. "That's a very cynical attitude for a teacher, Minerva."

"I was not always a teacher," she retorted, "and I can assure you that had I been here in my capacity as an Auror, and saw what I saw tonight, I would not have hesitated to cast Finite Incantatem and find those responsible before they could get away!"

"Enough!" Dumbledore snapped, causing her to start. "Enough." Suddenly he looked very old. "Our world is becoming a cloudy and dangerous place, and I do not yet know who - or what - is behind it all. Sometimes one must take risks with a few for the sake of the many."

Minerva's lips thinned into nothing at that, but she simply nodded stiffly. "Very well, Headmaster. Believe it or not, I do see your point. It is a very ... political one. I don't like it, but as your Deputy I will support you in public, and that's all you really need, isn't it?" Her tone was sharp and edged with something more than sharpness, and he frowned, but she stalked out of the hall, holding herself straighter even than she normally did.

Once the double doors of the Great Hall had closed behind her she stopped and leaned against a wall in the porch. She was shaking so violently that she wondered whether she could manage the stairs, which seemed to be moving more frenetically than ever. She had known Albus Dumbledore for most of her life, and until tonight she had always treated him with affection - even love - at best, and exasperation at worst. Never had she said such things to him before, but then never had she been so angry with him, either. For a moment she contemplated turning into a cat and escaping her human cares and anxieties in an hour or so of hunting, but she stiffened her spine and moved towards the stairs. She was probably needed in Gryffindor Tower, and Minerva McGonagall was not one to shirk her duty, even when it was one that came uneasily. Her young lions rarely confided in her, and she rarely tried to make them - but still, after seeing the looks of anxiety of the faces of some of her youngest charges, and terror on the others, she did not feel that she could do less.

"-don't need to be told who was behind it, we know," Algie Longbottom was saying as she clambered through the hole, wishing (not for the first time) that it was possible to do so with more grace.

"What's all the fuss about? I don't understand, it was just a Halloween trick, wasn't it?" Rosemary Brown was saying over and over, her voice so highly pitched that Minerva half expected her to become hysterical. Mary McDonald patted the First Year's shoulder comfortingly, but her eyes went here and there and everywhere, resting furtively on the purebloods and then flicking away again.

Minerva's gaze switched to her young sister, who was curled up in a window seat, her arms wrapped tightly around her silver tabby. Minerva's lips twitched; she had, in fact, been amused and flattered when she discovered that Meta had named her pet 'Minnie'. The girl did not look up, and seemed lost in a world of her own.

I must try to talk to her again, her sister thought anxiously. Even if she doesn't want to. She cleared her throat and silence fell almost at once.

"Are they going to be punished, Professor?" Algie asked, his mild eyes looking harder than she had ever seen them look.

Minerva bit her lip. "The Headmaster believes -" she began, but Gideon interrupted.

"That's means they won't be, or you'd have said so at once. We all know who was responsible, and after all the talk in the papers lately-"

"Professor, is it true that there's a campaign on against Muggleborns and halfbloods?" a Fourth Year asked, her question crossing Gideon's.

Losing patience, Minerva cast a quick Silencio and then glared around at them over her glasses. "Enough! You're all letting your imaginations run away with you!" How I wish they were. "Really, I thought Gryffindors would have more sense! All that happened tonight - yes, Mr Prewett, all - was a very unkind and tactless joke. No-one was hurt, or even badly frightened until, it seems, you all got back up here and started fretting! Miss Brown, if you don't stop that I shall send you to Madam Pomfrey for a sedative. Now, it is very late. Go to bed."

"You didn't answer my question," the Fourth Year murmured as he sidled past her on his way to the boys' staircase, and she ignored him. Gideon, too, was looking at her suspiciously, but she maintained her glare and even the confident prefect did not try to gainsay it. Finally, they had all trooped up to bed, and Minerva turned to leave - and found that there was still one other person in the common room.

"Meleta?"

The girl blinked. "Oh. Oh!" She scrambled to her feet, dropping the cat in her haste. "I'm awfully sorry, Professor, I'll go at once-"

Minerva sighed as Meta refused to meet her eyes. "Very well, child. I'll see you tomorrow."

Her young sister nodded, almost nervously, and vanished up the stairs after her room-mates, leaving Minerva standing alone. She shivered. With the fire dying down it was cold and rapidly becoming dark, turning the room into a cavern instead of the welcoming haven she had always felt it to be. She returned to her rooms and decided to take her own advice and go to bed, but between one thing and another, sleep was long in coming.

The next three weeks were strained, stretched taut by expectation rather than reality. The only odd occurence was the hijacking of the Knight Bus near Ottery St. Catchpole and the stranding of some dozen witches and wizards outside London. It could have been a lot worse, although Albus looked grave at the prospect of one of the wizarding world's only means of public transport being compromised. Minerva saw the gravity and did not press him on it; she still found it hard to forgive his refusal to follow up on the events of the Masque. However, they had to work together and she prided herself on her professionalism, so she showed little outward sign of it.

One positive aspect of the renewed peace was that the children were finally permitted to go Hogsmeade, and when it was announced at breakfast four weeks before the end of term, everyone in Third Year above visibly brightened. The First and Second Years looked more glum than ever.

"I always feel so sorry for the little ones," Pomona Sprout lamented from her place next to Minerva. "Especially with Christmas coming, they've had no chance to buy their gifts."

"They'll get the chance to go to Diagon Alley when we break up," the Deputy Headmistress reminded her.

"What about the ones who don't go home?" was the kindly Hufflepuff's rejoinder. "What will they do?"

"H'mm. Sadly I don't think we can let the lowest forms go in, Pomona. You know as well as I do that they need parental consent, and we've no hope of getting it so late in the term."

Dumbledore turned to them from where he had been conversing with Flitwick on his other side, and beamed at the Head of Hufflepuff. "Pomona has a point, Minerva. How many children are staying this holiday?"

"I haven't checked yet," his deputy admitted. "I don't usually do that until a fortnight before - you know yourself that plans can fluctuate -"

"Will little Miss McGonagall be staying?" Filius piped, hovering above his chair.

Minerva smiled and shook her head. "No. She's going home. Rosa says she was quite adamant about it."

Dumbledore had been staring fixedly at his goblet. Now he looked up with a twinkle. "I have a cunning plan. We should run a special trip to Diagon Alley for those children who are staying these holidays, and then they won't miss anything. There's plenty of time to get consent for that. I also suggest that you, Minerva, and you, Filius, do something on permanent charms and transfigurations in lessons in the next week or so."

"I can do Potions also," Horace Slughorn said from where he sat next to Flitwick. "They're usually popular. I'm having a meeting of the Sluggies tonight and I'll ask them for ideas. They're such bright young people I'm sure they'll think of something."

Minerva sniffed, but Albus beamed. "What a marvellous thought, Horace! I do commend you!" He turned back to the witches on his right hand. "There, Pomona - will those plans satisfy you?"

Professor Sprout smiled broadly. "Perfectly, Headmaster. I'm sure they'll be grateful to you. By the by, who's patrolling with them this morning?"

"Romulus and you yourself are down for this weekend," Minerva reminded her. "I'm sure I posted the notice in the staffroom."

Flitwick looked conscious. "Er, ah, well yes, you did. Only there was an - erm - minor accident."

Minerva's eyebrows reached her hairline and the tiny Charms professor continued to explain. "I had an - er - rather interesting present along with my Fourth Year charms prep. I'm afraid it exploded and destroyed your notice beyond all hope of legibility."

Pomona giggled, but Minerva was less amused. "I see. It might be an idea, Filius, to discourage this kind of pranking. I really don't approve of it and it could be dangerous -"

"There's no harm in Filius having some fun with his senior forms," Albus pointed out gently.

Minerva glanced at him and went on. "-but if you will do so, at least let me know when something is destroyed!" She rose, pushed her chair back, and then left the table, trying to ignore Pomona's whispered, "Goodness, but she is in a bad mood this morning!" Sometimes having a cat's enhanced hearing had its disadvantages.

Nor was her poor mood alleviated when she was accosted in the porch by an annoyed owl that she recognised as being Mercury. She stopped to allow the creature to perch on her shoulder while she untied the letter from his leg, and he squawked indignantly - for an owl - when she shook her head at him.

"I'm sorry, I have no treats for you -" She stifled an exclamation when the owl nipped her ear to express his displeasure and then flew off in the direction of the Owlery.

Minerva rubbed her abused ear ruefully and frowned as she flipped the letter over and saw her name written in Rosa McGonagall's almost childishly careful script. The younger woman had never completely felt at ease with quills, and that meant that missives from her were usually rather time-consuming to decipher, and the longer they were, the worse they became. Judging from the thickness of this packet, this letter was a long one, and Minerva sighed before heading for her classroom. She had some time before her first class would be on her, and she could peruse Rosa's letter then.