Instead of the school infirmary, Fawkes had brought them to Dumbledore's bedroom. The phoenix then immediately dived out the open window, without so much as a farewell glance.
Albus opened his mouth to call him back – and then closed it. Perhaps the magical bird had read more in Albus's mind than Albus himself had known it contained; because now that he was here, he knew he could not bear to put Minerva into the infirmary, to see her lying helpless in a long row of impersonal beds. No. Here, in his room, where they had woken up together yesterday morning – yes, here was better.
"Thank you, Fawkes," he whispered, and gently laid Minerva down onto the bed, still wrapped in his cloak. He tried his best to make her comfortable, then sat on the bed beside her for a moment, anxiously watching her face. In the light of the sunrise which was now streaming through the eastern window he assured himself that she did, indeed, look better. Her face did not seem quite so white as it had, and her breathing was light but regular.
He did not realise himself that he had reached for one of her hands and was holding onto it desperately with both his own.
Then a voice from the study startled him. "Headmaster? Are you well?"
He raised his own voice. "In here, Poppy!"
"I should warn you that you had better be ill, because that bird of yours pecked at me until I started actually running to your rooms – Merlin!" Madam Pomfrey stood stunned at the bedroom doorway.
But only for a moment. Then she was around the other side of the bed, taking Minerva's free hand in her own and checking her pulse. "What happened?"
"Minerva cast a spell – based on voluntary sacrifice."
"Voluntary sacrifice?" Poppy put down Minerva's arm and peeled back one of her eyelids with professional dexterity. "Lumos minima," she murmured quietly, and a tiny beam of light directed itself into Minerva's open eye. Albus watched anxiously. "What was the spell?"
"Semper Bestiola Eris."
Poppy looked at him blankly. "I've never come across that spell before."
"It has never been tried." She was about to ask more questions, but the look on his face stopped her. "How is she?"
The usually imperturbable Madam Pomfrey bit her lip. "I don't know."
He looked at her, blue eyes suddenly hard.
"I'm dealing with the effects of a spell I've never even heard of!" she snapped. "Magic based on voluntary sacrifice is hardly ever practiced – and it's always unpredictable. Physically, she's alive – and that's it. Her pulse is strong, her respiration shallow but regular, her pupils dilate normally, but there's no reflex response, she's as pale as a ghost and looks like she's been deathly ill for a month!" At his sudden sharp intake of breath she lowered her voice and forced herself into some semblance of calm. "I'm sorry, Headmaster. But if I'm to find any way of curing her I need to know everything about the spell she used. At the moment I'm just groping in the dark."
"As am I," he admitted. He stood. "I will get you a copy of the spell immediately. But… I do not have any other information concerning it."
Suddenly Poppy Pomfrey felt a wave of overwhelming pity for the famed and powerful wizard who stood by the bed, still clasping Minerva McGonagall's hand between both his own. "We will find a way to make her well, Albus," she said quietly. It was very unlike her to offer such reassurances.
"Yes," he agreed, his mouth trying to smile. He began to move away from the bed, then seem to notice for the first time that he still had hold of Minerva's hand. He began to raise it – to his lips? Poppy wondered – then instead carefully laid it back on the bed. His long fingers gave her smaller ones a gentle farewell caress, then he straightened. "I will return as quickly as I can," he said softly; but he was not looking at Poppy as he said it, and she sensed the words were not meant for her.
When he had left the bedroom, Poppy Pomfrey let out a long sigh. "Damn it, Minerva McGonagall," she said softly as she pulled out her wand and several other diagnostic tools from her black bag. "What have you done to yourself?"
In the study, Dumbledore found himself confronted with several pairs of anxious eyes; Madam Pince, Professor Flitwick, Professor Binns, Professor Sprout, and Professor Vector – all the professors who had remained during this holiday period - were all standing in the centre of the room, Fawkes circling anxiously overhead. The portraits of past Headmasters which lined the walls of the study were also watching him, uncharacteristically silent.
"Minerva has been grievously injured," he said without preamble. "She cast a spell of voluntary sacrifice in order to force Peter Pettigrew to take his Animagi form permanently. Madam Pomfrey is with her now; but Minerva is unconscious, and we are not sure what the spell has done to her."
"What was the spell, Dumbledore?" Professor Vector asked.
"Semper Bestiola Eris."
Flitwick, Sprout, and Vector looked puzzled, but Madam Pince and Professor Binns looked thoughtful.
"Created in the first century," Professor Binns murmured aloud. "When the Roman wizards were warring against the Druids. Do you have a copy of the spell, Headmaster?"
"I do – but only a copy written in the eighth century by a German scholar, who claimed he invented it. I did not know the spell's provenance was in the first century, and I did not believe it had ever been attempted." Dumbledore looked at the ghostly Professor with some surprise.
"Then I believe some research is in order," Professor Binns said.
"I'll help you with that," Madam Pince and Professor Vector chorused.
"Professor Sprout and I will watch over the students while you three work," Professor Flitwick offered. Professor Sprout nodded vigorously.
"Thank you," Dumbledore said quietly.
"We'll meet back here with all our research in –" Madam Pince looked around.
"Two hours," Professor Vector offered.
Professor Binns and Madam Pince looked a little startled at such a definitive deadline from the Arithmancy professor, but when they saw the strain lines on Dumbledore's face had lessened slightly at the pronouncement they quickly agreed.
"Thank you," Dumbledore said again.
The diminutive Charms professor moved towards him and gently patted his arm in wordless comfort. Then, without further conversation, the five colleagues moved to the staircase.
There were plenty of words on the spiral staircase, however; Severus Snape, almost running towards the Headmaster's study with a newspaper in his hand, was privy to some of them as he met the group when they exited the stair.
"- looks like hell."
"Well, he's obviously devastated! Merlin, Minerva!"
"Incredibly brave of her, to cast an unknown spell like that." This from Professor Sprout.
"Minerva McGonagall has never lacked courage," asserted a surprisingly eloquent Madam Pince.
"Severus!" Professor Flitwick exclaimed. The chattering behind him ceased. "Do you know what has happened?"
"I was with them," Snape said curtly. "Has there been any change in Professor McGonagall's condition?"
"Well, Poppy says she's alive, but not conscious… and – " Filius Flitwick spread his hands helplessly.
Snape's frown deepened. "I see."
"We're going to do some research on the spell and its effects," Professor Vector noted. "We'll convene in the Headmaster's study in two hours."
"Then I shall see you again then. If you will excuse me, however, I must speak to the Headmaster urgently." With that Snape moved to the gargoyle guarding the secret passageway. "Cadbury Flake."
"Severus, now might not be a good –" Snape ignored Professor Sprout with the ease of long practice and moved swiftly up the staircase. "Damn the man!" she exploded with uncharacteristic anger. "Right now Dumbledore doesn't need anything more to worry about!"
"It never stops for them, does it? Voldemort defeated, everything should finally be right for them to be together, and now Dumbledore still has to deal with all the crises while Minerva…" Madam Pince's mouth twisted slightly, pushing back a sob.
They stood for a moment, a grave small group worried for their friends; then the normally reserved Professor Vector gave the prim librarian a comforting hug. "We shall find a cure for Minerva, and we will make everything right for them. They've both worked too hard for us to let this stop them now."
"Absolutely," Sprout confirmed. "And when Minerva McGonagall is back and well, I'll even slip some mescaline into Snape's morning coffee in order to give her something to be glad about."
That won a shocked chuckle from the weeping Madam Pince, who had known Minerva since their Hogwarts schooldays together; and with teary eyes but brave smiles, the colleagues went to do what they could to help their friend and keep their students safe and unaware of their fears.
It was therefore somewhat unfortunate that, although the halls of Hogwarts were almost empty of students on this second day of holiday, two fifth year students who had been going to sneak into the kitchens in search of Butterbeer had overheard their entire conversation. The Butterbeer was immediately forgotten.