Chapter Eleven: Minerva Returns

Minerva's cane clacked loudly with every still-painful step she took. But it wasn't as bad as it had been. She was glad to be back at Hogwarts, to be home. And somehow, she had missed even Peeves' and Sybill's vexing behaviours. She had also come back because she had business to attend to – Sybill business.

"Sybill knows?" Minerva flustered. "Yes, and yet she has been a constant bedside decoration in your room, my old friend," Dumbledore twinkled knowingly. Sometimes Albus's attitude and charm was rather irksome. "She has? Well, she's not here now. And yes, I'm quite aware that I'm stating the obvious, Albus. But if she's been here so diligently, why isn't she here now?"

"Come, come now, Minerva. Surely you know the reason?" She abhorred the look her gave. "Really, Albus, do you have to look at me a though I'm a student who isn't using the answer that's right in front of her?"

"Yes, I suppose I do know why," she added finally.

"Once the Healers pronounced your consciousness and better health, she returned to the castle. She was under the impression that you had quarrelled – it was the only way I could get your half-hearted memory spell to work." Minerva looked him over. "What do you mean, half-hearted spell?"

Dumbledore took a seat and gestured for Minerva to do the same. She waved her wand at the last of her things and they packed themselves up as she took her place on the edge of her bed.

"Your memory spell wasn't good enough, my dear friend. You didn't mean it enough. In fact, if I were as wise as people believe, I would have to say, you didn't mean it at all." He peered at her through his half-moon spectacles. "And it would seem that Sybiill, with her gif of Sight, knew all along. Though she may not have known what it was that she knew."

"Oh Albus, would you stop speaking in riddles, please? Merlin's beard." Dumbledore smiled. "It would seem that Professor Trelawney had visions after she returned to her tower. Visions that made her look like you and herself in one body."

"I… I don't know what to say, Albus." Dumbledore chuckled. "I expect you wouldn't, but you know what it means, I trust. The night before you confessed to performing the spell, we both know something happened between you and Sybill. That, if only for one night, the two of you became one, and love's ancient magic showed that to Sybill, through her heart, through her visions. I dared not make it stronger – it was not meant to be. But, in order to keep her at bay, as you seemed to wish, I simply put the idea into Sybill's head that she would be better off remaining in her own quarters, so as to give you what you needed. Alas, her Sight was stronger than even I knew."

"What do you mean, give me what I needed?" There was a tone behind her saying it, that his response would be utter nonsense and rubbish. "In order for you to realize that you loved Sybill back, you had to lose her." Minerva whiffed, "Oh, poppycock, Albus." Dumbledore straightened. "Am I incorrect then? It has been known to happen on occasion. After all, I merely guessed. But we both know that my guesses are usually correct, Minerva."

Minerva sighed. She should have known she could not hide the truth from the greatest wizard of all time. "It's ridiculous. She's ridiculous." Dumbledore smiled charmingly again and twinkled at her, "Love often is, my dear." Despite herself, Minerva found herself smiling back. "You never cease to amaze me Albus."

Dumbledore smiled back and stood up. "You're going to make me blush, Minerva. Now I must be off. I have things to attend to myself. Besides, we've been in here far longer than my disguise should be." He headed for the door and turned back to her once more. "Oh, and Minerva, if I were you, my old friend, I would not let it stand at just that." Dumbledore's robes swished as he swept from the room towards the exiting fireplaces and Minerva was left to contemplate things on her own before returning to the castle.

As the clever old witch entered her private quarters, she mused at the memory. Dumbledore was right, of course. He almost always was. But she needed a cup of tea and to relax for just a few minutes before she made the long walk up to Sybill's tower. She was tired. She'd leave it until morning, but she knew Albus would disapprove.

Just as she lifted her cup to her mouth, her door flew open and Sybill stormed in. "Minerva McGonagall, how dare you!" she screeched. Minerva couldn't believe her eyes. This certainly wasn't a Sybill she had encountered before: angry. "I cannot believe you!" She picked up the crystal ball sitting on Minerva's mantle and hurled it at the wall. It smashed to a million pieces on the floor. "You modified my memory? How could – how could you do that to me, when you know what my life is like? I know we are not friends, not lovers, that undoubtedly you feel that night was a mistake, but that – that was a – a violation, Minerva. You had no right to do that to me." Her voice was incredibly accusing, and Minerva turnt her back to the younger woman, her fingers gripping her tea table against the wall next to where the crystal had broken. She did not try to justify herself or repair the broken glass, or even clean it up. She had wanted them apart, and now they would be, only this time it would be Sybill's choice.

"I don't know why I'm even bothering. You lack the heart to care." She left the room, tripping on her shawls and hiccuping and sobbing as she went. When the door slammed shut behind her, Minerva fell to her knees, too weak and upset to move.