Chapter Seven
Albus Dumbledore stood next to Melanie looking through the window Dumbledore had erected to look through the wall in on Caverly. He stood silently, arms crossed over navy robes, a granite statue. The only indication of his life was the sharp up and down of his chest.
"Absolutely not," he said finally.
Moody moved restlessly behind the two. "Albus, she can handle this. She's not a little kid. All she has to do is talk to him."
Dumbledore whirled around, wild magic crackling around him. Melanie automatically took a step back in fright, but Moody only swallowed once and help his ground. "That's exactly what she is. She's only fifteen and you want her to go back and have a nice chat with one of the monsters who tortured her?"
"Perhaps your personal feeling are clouding your judgment, Dumbledore," Moody said brusquely. "Junior Auror Ramirez has spent quite a bit of time with Miss McGonagall as well. What do you think, Auror? Can she handle this?"
Melanie froze and looked from the two men in turn. Her words seemed to fail. She turned back to look at the man angrily pacing the room like a caged animal. Caverly, Macnair, whoever he was, he had hurt Minerva. Even him being in the camp had shut down her recovery. She had begun to speak, open up, but the moment Caverly had arrived, she had retreated back into her shell.
"I…" she trailed off for a moment before swallowing and deciding. "I think you should ask her. Minerva is more than a chess piece, she should be allowed to decide what she wants to do, what she can handle."
If either man felt one way about this they didn't make any facial expressions to indicate them. Moody gave a curt nod and swept away with a trail of Aurors behind him. Melanie followed Albus to find Minerva sitting on the blanket with Lewis and Kingsley, playing chess against Lewis who was chatting loudly as Minerva's nimble fingers woven the strands of grass growing back after the winter's frost.
Albus knelt beside her and Melanie nodded at the two others in greeting. "Minerva my dear, we need to talk about something, if that's all right?"
Minerva's nose wrinkled at the strange comment, but turned her attention.
Dumbledore seemed to be at a loss for words, so Melanie leaned forward. "Caverly wants to talk to you. He refuses to speak without anyone else and we can't get him to say anything. He claims to only speak with you. Moody wants to know if you'll speak with him."
Minerva's eyebrow dipped and she turned back to look at her Professor.
"Why?"
Dumbledore sighed heavily and the lines around his eyes seemed to deepen, making his older and darker. He placed his hand on top of her smaller one. "I don't know, dear heart. But you don't have to do anything you don't want to do. Moody can get someone else to make Caverly talk."
Minerva seemed to consider this, her hands still moving around the grasses like they were holding her to the ground and reality before she looked back up at the two.
"I'll help," she said simply before turning back to her chess game.
*The Great War 1944*
Melanie stood breathlessly from the window as Minerva entered the room. Her hair was loose around her shoulder and fluttered as she sat down in the seat across from Caverly. He looked much wilder than he had as the Secretary to the Minister of Magic. His hair was spiked out and looked longer, unruly. The dark circles under his eyes made the whites of his eyes glow eerily and his sneer was like the maul of a bear.
Perhaps this was the real side of Caverly, the side that Minerva knew.
"I'm here. What do you want?" She seemed calm, but then again, Minerva McGonagall always seemed calm on the outside.
The monster chuckled and leaned back in his chair. Beside Melanie, Dumbledore pressed closer to the window. "She can do this," Melanie offered to him with a grim smile. "She's stronger than she knows."
Dumbledore's normally twinkling eyes were intense as he turned to look at her. "She's the bravest person I've met. That's what scares me most."
The look echoing from his eyes made Melanie's throat close from the sheer intensity of it and she turned back to the room. Minerva hadn't moved and Caverly had just smiled and leaned forward a little.
"Think that's the longest sentence I've ever heard you speak, little mouse," he said arrogantly.
"Funny to hear an accent on that little voice of yours," Caverly continued. "Scottish Gaelic, isn't it? I just love that side of the island, such a beautiful beaches. Perhaps I'll visit your family the next time I'm there."
Minerva stiffened in her chair and Dumbledore's fist tightened on the window frame.
"You have thirty seconds before I walk out of here."
"But I used to so love our little chats together, mouse."
"That's enough get her out of there," Dumbledore snapped.
"Albus, no, wait…she's gotten his attention," Moody said, holding onto his forearm, eyes transfixed on Minerva's form. "Let her work the advantage."
Minerva stood up abruptly up from the chair and Caverly lunged to grab her wrists. Blood seeped down her arms, crimson against her pale skin.
Moody held Dumbledore as struggled to reach the door. Minerva sat back down and Caverly released his hands.
"I want to make a deal," Caverly said.
"And?" Minerva said expressionlessly, raising an eyebrow.
"And I want to make a deal for immunity."
Minerva was silent and frozen in place. It was quite a long time before she spoke. She sounded less sure than before. "You could have told this to Moody."
Caverly grinned, malice clear in his face. "But then I wouldn't get to spend any time with you, flower," he said, eyes glinting in the darkened room.
Then he attacked.
But before his hands could wrap around her beck, a bright white protego expanded around her. Her hair flew back like a banner behind her and her clothes shuttered around her.
Albus made it to her first and the moment he was able to approach the shield, it dimmed, then all together disappeared in one. Minerva shook, her eyes locked on Caverly's unconscious form as Albus drew her into his embrace, crushing her against his body, his form almost overtaking her little one.
"She knocked him out," Moody called to Dumbledore who nodded shortly. "Let's get her out of here. She's done quite enough."
*The Great War 1944*
The Healer came out of the tent and was immediately pounced on by the people waiting outside. "How is she?" Albus demanded immediately.
The healer sighed. "She's not great," he said neutrally. "I think it's simply a relapse. She most likely has PTSD that's been triggered and now her health is suffering from it."
"What can we do?" Melanie asked quickly, drawing her cloak closer to her body as an extremely cold gust of wind came by. The Healer stopped near his tent and turned towards the rest of the group.
"You have to try and keep her talking about anything, meaningless things. After the fever breaks, the rest of her symptoms will follow as long as an infection doesn't set in. she's in for a rough road. No more playing hero for a while. She needs to be more concerned with surviving."
*The Great War 1944*
Thousands of miles away, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was beginning to awaken from their slumbers. Snow was crunched on the ground and the windows iced over as Galatea Merrythought sat down at the large, long table Professor Table in the Great Hall.
"Morning," she greeted Horace Slughorn, who was stuffing his face with a maple covered waffle, and Hebert Beery, who was drinking his normal cup of sugary coffee.
"Galatea, good morning," Beery said with a smile. The small wizard with the dirt covered overalls was always friendly. The Herbology professor was quite a number of years older than the Defense witch, but he always was happy and cheerful, something to keep close to in these dark times.
She shed her thick sweater and sat down at her normal seat. However, the chair next to her was empty. Galatea's smile faded.
"We all miss him, deary."
Galatea turned to give Sonny Wainscott an artificial smile. The nurse was always trying to heal everything including people's problems. Her bright orange hair always managed to irritate Galatea, but it was hard to hate someone who was so caring.
"Do you think he'll return soon?"
Galatea shrugged and hummed only in response. It was partly her fault Albus was gone at all.
She glanced down at the rest of the Hall, noticing the small, but evident hole at the end of the Gryffindor Table. Her heart ached for a moment. "It's a shame," Slughorn said, nodding towards where Galatea was looking. "She was one of the most talent little things I had seen in a while. She would have gone far."
"Don't you dare!" Galatea snapped. Horace's muddy brown eyes grew wide. "Don't you dare use that tone like, like, she's…" The final word got caught in her throat and she turned away.
Galatea reached for the goblet of pumpkin juice, almost knocking into her plate as her hand shook, revealing a thick ivory envelope with her name on the front. Puzzled, she set down the goblet and slid her finger under the flap. Her eyes scanned the first few lines and her mouth dropped.
"What is it, dear?"
Galatea opened her mouth but it was quite a few moments before any words formed.
"Galatea?" Beery said, concerned.
"It's from Albus."