AN: I know it's late, but I've finally got the ending figured out. Please drop a line to let me know what you think.
Minerva woke up to the bright sunlight streaming through her windows and the wall sconces shaking as the ground quaked. Shouts filled the air as people ran through the corridors and doors slammed all around her. She barely managed to get her arms through the sleeves in her robes before bolting out in the confusion. She reached out a nd grabbed the arm of a Ministry worker. "What's happening?"
The woman's eyes were wide and her breath came out in fits and starts. "There was an attack in town. The rebels hung the Minister in effigy and set him on fire. When the guard arrived to detain them..those bloody devils killed them. Five guards are dead so far, but the rebels are still being driven back; there could be more." Her eyes widened further, her voice dropping. "I just can't believe it. They just clubbed them to death like a group of muggles. Those poor boys."
Minerva's grip on the woman loosened and her hand fell limply to her side. The woman ran off leaving Minerva to stand alone in the confusion. Without realizing it her feet carried her toward Albus' office. The crowds around her thinned out and eventually disappeared all together by the time she reached his door.
She didn't bother to knock as she pushed open the heavy door and stepped through. The room was surprisingly empty. Only Albus stood against the far wall, a window conjured behind his desk. He stood with his back to her in silence. He stared as guards flooded the streets to restore order. He shut his eyes tightly and willed himself not to sigh. The screams would start soon.
"Dumbledore, what happened?" She came to stand beside him, but couldn't bring herself to took at him.
His eyes opened at the cool tone of her voice and again stifled a groan at the set line of her jaw. "A sect of rebels from green sector somehow found their way into the main streets. They decided to make their views...known. It appears Guy Fawkes day came early this year. Eight of my guards are dead, and the numbers keep rising."
She nodded slowly, her chest tightening painfully. Apparently Harry grew tired of waiting. "I suppose this means you're going to cancel your speech this afternoon."
"I am not." His voice was firm and unyielding, just like him. "I will not be bullied into hiding in my office like some child Minerva. Allowing my life to be changed only gives the rebels power. They will learn terrorism will not succeed." He turned his attention back to his desk, which was covered in spare bits of parchment. "The celebration will continue as planned."
Despite herself, Minerva wasn't surprised. Nothing could surprise her anymore. "People are dying in the streets, families will be grieving, and you still plan to act as if nothing has happened? Do you truly think people will be prepared to celebrate anything?"
"Perhaps not," he conceded, "but life goes on. Once the rebels are pushed back into their sectors I will go visit the affected families. They made the ultimate sacrifice for their country, and they will be rewarded. I should be back at the Ministry before two. The event isn't set to begin until five, so I'll be more than ready. I see no reason to postpone the event."
"Good luck with that," she said sarcastically. She turned to walk out of the room when the door swung open.
One of the guards came sweeping into the room, his face a patchwork of scratches and scorch marks. He bowed low even as he swayed dangerously on his feet. "Sir, we've managed to subdue the uprising. The final count has settled at 13 dead and 43 wounded. Reports on the rebel casualties have yet to return."
The young man turned on his heel and just caught himself before falling face first to the ground. In an instant Minerva was by his side, supporting his weight. With a slight flick of her wand and several muttered words the severest gash, running from his left temple to just past his lip, had closed. "You should see a healer," she whispered when she released him. He was gone with a nod a quirk of the lips.
Five o'clock arrived far too quickly for Minerva. The last several had passed while she listened to the chaos around her dissolve into the ordered madness of the events preparations. She hadn't eaten all day, but she couldn't seem to muster up an appetite.
Finally she found herself firmly ensconced in a chair beside various officials upon the stage. Albus had insisted she join the cronies, and so she had. She sat in the set of burgundy robes that had been laid out in her chambers by a nervous house elf, staring out over the sea of half bored, half nervous faces.
Albus had been going on now for almost half an hour about the need for cooperation and tolerance in these difficult times when her eyes finally caught a glimpse. A mop of raven hair was moving slowly along the outer edges of the crowd, circling its way toward the dias. The lump in her throat grew and threatened to strangle her as she caught a glimmer of sunlight off the edge of a pair glasses.
Albus' voice, which had simply been washing over her, changed slightly. The slightly menacing tone caused her heart to pound. "..events of today only demonstrate the need for patience. Violence will not be tolerated, and I will do all that is necessary to quell the tide of malice. Those party to the slaughter of more than a dozen men today will feel the wrath of the world upon their shoulders. I will not rest until those guilty of such a heinous act are brought to justice, and our streets are once again safe for all. If it takes a month, a year, a century, they will be found. This is my pledge to you."
A roar of applause filled the air, even as Minerva felt her chest constrict in terror. The applause was replaced with shouts and the scrambling of feet. "Traitor!" filled the air and screams drowned out all else.
People scattered to the four winds and before Minerva could truly understand what was happening, the guards had left the stage and joined the throng. She felt a jet of heat pass by her shoulder before two strong arms hoisted her out of her chair and into the air. "Hurry," was all she heard she was dragged away.
