Part 2: Rebirth

It was with a gasp that her eyelids flittered open to reveal a pair of striking eyes. They seemed to glow in the darkness as though they were jewels. Bright pale, forest green orbs; cat-like in comparison.

The woman's eyes looked around the room in bewilderment; bewilderment that soon turned to an odd sense of curiosity.

It was as if she waking from some sort of strange dream that left her mystified and yet oddly refreshed. In truth she hadn't felt this good in ages.

Her eyes slowly scanned the walls. Everything around her seemed to be sharper as though she were seeing through high definition. She could see every crack and every seam that stretched cross the stone walls. She could see the cobwebs that collected in the corners that would normally be invisible to the naked eye. She could even see that spider that was skittering across the baseline of the floor.

Minerva flexed her fingers and toes, testing the joints. Then, she slowly sat up and gazed around her. She was in the hospital wing? Her brow crinkled. She had no idea how she had gotten there or for what reason.

Sitting fully up, she swiftly swiveled on the thin mattress, scooted to the edge of the bed and set her bare feet on the cold stone floor. Minerva then stood up and stretched. To her surprise, she didn't feel anything pop or crack as she normally would.

Shrugging it off, she made her way toward the bathroom at the end of the wing. After she had done her business, she moved over to the sink and turned on the faucet. Before she stuck her hands beneath the water though, she stopped and stared.

She stared.

And stared some more.

Her hands… These were not her hands… Her hands had wrinkles… And a few sparse age spots… But, the hands that were before her… They were youthful… Smooth and slender; like they had been when she was in her twenties and thirties.

Not only were they that though. These hands also had spatters of blood on them.

Shocked and confused and just a little bit scared, Minerva drove her hands under the faucet that was spewing out luke warm water and began to furiously scrub at them; her breaths growing sharper with every fierce movement. Once she saw that all the blood had gone from the hands, that were not her hands, she turned off the water and gripped the edge of the porcelain sink.

Pale green orbs wandered up. From the hands… To the running water… And to the mirror, where she froze yet again.

Staring into a face that was not her face…

Her reflection looked as though it was vibrating, the image slightly blurred but, it was clear that the face staring back at her was one full of youth and beauty. It looked like her. Like she had been when she was twenty; only more beautiful. Her skin was pale and smooth; blemish free. Neck long and slender. High-sculpted cheek bones, sharp artisan nose, oval shaped face, red tinged lips. Her hair was now the color of obsidian; without a trace of grey. She could see that the once white gown she was wearing was now painted scarlet with blood.

But, the thing that struck her most were the eyes that were staring back at her.

The once emerald colored eyes were now more like polished green aventurine. It's pale shade matched only by its brightness. They seemed gleam in the faint bathroom light.

She reached her hands up slowly. The first touch made her jerk her away because after that she knew that this clearly was her. Gingerly she touched her face and then her hair. Her hands then glided down her body. Eyes widening as she felt the full breasts and sleek, womanly curves.

Minerva's hands then traveled back up and unto her neck. Upon further examination, she noticed a puncture on the left side of her neck. She ran her fingertips over the scar tissue she found there.

As Minerva caressed it and looked at her reflection with curiously suspicious eyes, she wondered what could have caused all of this.

Suddenly a blinding pain entered her mind that had her doubling over onto her knees, gripping her skull.

Her eyes were forced shut against the sudden onslaught.

Flashes of different scenes flickered through her mind as though it was some slide show set on fast forward and powered by strobe lights. One right after the other at such a pace that it was hard to process.

After what seemed like an eternity the pain began to subside and the slideshow came to an abrupt halt.

Minerva opened her eyes.

"Oh gods."

She felt sick.

And she remembered everything.

That is when the panic set in.

Her foot falls echoed down the darkened corridors though they were not very loud seeing as she was barefoot.

Minerva hadn't given a second thought when she had wrenched open the bathroom door and fled the hospital wing clad only in her blood stained gown.

Minerva McGonagall was never one to run let alone panic. And yet here she was. Flying down the hallways and skidding around every corner as panic filled her every fiber.

Right turn, left turn.

Right turn, up the stairs; two by two.

Another left turn, her destination was in sight.

Feeling her magic before she even reached it, the stone gargoyle that stood at the foot of the revolving staircase, guarding the way to the Headmistresses office, aroused from its slumber. Stone eyes regarded the fast approaching figure skeptically. The magical signature that was seeping off of her was clearly that of the Headmistresses, though it seemed oddly stronger and the woman seemed familiarly unfamiliar. And by the look in her eyes she wanted in. And she wanted in now. With only the slightest bit of hesitation, the statue moved aside and watched as the woman flew by.

Was that blood on her gown?

The office door slammed open and shut in an instant, startling the portraits from their 'sleep'. The fireplace immediately springing to life with a warm glow that lit the room with its white-orange light.

Painted faces looked toward the door to see a figure leaning against it. The figure was clearly a woman. Long black hair that fell in glossy waves and curls to the middle of her back. Hospital gown and barefooted.

Minerva had her forehead settled against the cold oak door of her newly appointed office. One hand still clutching the door handle and the other braced against the door next to her head. Palm flat against the surface. Her eyes staring straight ahead, studying the grain in the wood that she could see so effortlessly. Her body was shaking even though she was trying to gather her bearings. Not even noticing the things going on around her. She wasn't even breathing heavy.

The portraits around the office, however, seemed to have come to life and were whispering to one another.

Phineas Nigellus Black, one of the previous Headmasters, being the pompous ass he always has been was the first to address the mysterious woman.

"I say! Just who do you think you are barging in here like that, young lady?! The Headmistress ought to have your head for such an unseemly act!" He barked.

"Phineas," chided Dilys Derwent, a previous Headmistress, from the opposite wall, "Don't be so rude! We don't even know who the poor girl is!"

Phineas harrumphed as the gallery erupted in a canopy of noise; all but two of the portraits adorning the walls.

Minerva didn't even seem to hear them.

Eyes squeezed shut, her quaking didn't cease as the emotions running through her body seemed to overwhelm her. Slowly she sank to her knees with her head still pressed against the door and her hands coming down next to her face, curled into fists and pressed against the hardwood.

Most of the portraits having seen this focused their attention back onto her rather than the petty arguing going on amongst the deceased Heads.

Minerva could feel her shoulders shake with the force of her emotions and her rampaging thoughts as they careened through her brain.

"Oh gods," she whispered, her Scottish brogue thick. "Why? Why did I 'ave ta be so stupid."

She thudded her right fist against the door.

"Please, please. This cannae be 'appening ta me." Minerva moaned and whimpered, "Please let this all just be a bad dream…"

And with that the portraits became very still.

For they recognized that voice which spilled from the woman's lips unknowingly.

All eyes moved from her shaking form to the gilded frame that held none other than Albus Dumbledore who had stood from his painted chair and was gripping the edge of his picture. Blue eyes studied the woman with concern. Dumbledore's eyes then flickered over to another portrait that held one Severus Snape. But, the Slytherin was focused on the witch at the door.

Dumbledore turned his attention back to what appeared to be his old friend.

"Minerva?" he questioned.

Upon hearing his voice Minerva stiffened. Her shaking immediately ceasing. She had not realized that she had been speaking aloud or that the portraits had woken.

"Albus." She said, confirming what the gallery had feared. Getting to her feet slowly but, not turning to face them.

"Minerva," Albus breathed out, "What on Earth happened? We heard that you had been injured. What's going on?"

Minerva was silent. What could she say to him? She wasn't even sure what to make of the whole ordeal. Everything just seemed so surreal; and not in a good way.

"Minerva." Albus said, his voice rising a bit. "Minerva, look at me."

She didn't move.

"Minerva, please."

The concerned tone of his voice compelled her to turn to face him. The gasps that filled the room spoke volumes as did the silence that followed.

Whether it was due to her youthful appearance or the blood soaked gown, she wasn't sure, though it was probably both.

"My gods, Minerva! What has happened to you?"

Minerva didn't know whether she wanted to laugh or cry at the absurdity of it all. Crying seemed more appropriate though.

She looked down at herself gripping handfuls of her bloodied gown and then up at her oldest friend who was looking at her with a mixture of horror, worry, and something akin to awe.

Minerva spread her arms out beside her, fingers splayed in a helpless gesture. Her hands smudged with the not fully dried liquid that coated her front.

Severus took this time to speak up, "Minerva? Who did this to you?"

All eyes turned toward him.

Minerva gazed over at him. She felt as though she could feel his black eyes staring at her neck even though her hair was covering it. As though he knew what it was hiding from view.

Lifting a hand, she pulled her hair over her shoulder, baring her neck and the slightly visible scarring of the puncture wound. Hating every second of the vulnerable position she knew it left her in.

Her fingers glided over the tissue, smudging it with the blood and highlighting it with the dark color.

Minerva looked back at him and then over at Albus.

"I... I don't… He… He just…" She closed her eyes and felt her body begin to shake again. "I didn't see his face…" She opened her eyes again. They were filled with pain and memories of things recently passed, "But those eyes… His voice… And the pain... It felt like my entire being was on fire."

Her left hand was clutched against her the mark and her right arm was curled around her stomach.

And it was all too much.

Minerva hit her knees again and bent forward slightly, her hair shrouding her face. She could feel the tears crawling their way down her face. They felt thick and strange. But, that is what all of this was. It was strange.

She looked back up at Severus. His eyes seemed clouded in a way which was odd for a portrait and they were trained on her in such a way that it made her chest feel heavy.

She didn't notice the thick red liquid that spilled from her tear ducts and stained her pale cheeks. Marking her like a cheetah.

"What did he do to me?"

TBC...

A/N: Sorry for the wait everyone. I've had serious writers block and have had a lot of things going on lately and none of it had really been good. I hope to get back to this and my other stories as soon as possible. And I know this chapter is a bit short but, bare with me.