Declaimer:I do not own them
Author's Notes: I love reviews and well she has 2 more years in hogwarts left...as I said it is long almost their full life
Sally rushed through the wall between platforms 9 and 10 on the first of September 1942. It was the middle of the war and everyone in London was nervous and mistrustful. She was glad when she stepped onto platform 9 ¾ amidst the bustle of Hogwarts students and their parents hurrying them onto the train. Sally cast her round blue eyes around for her companion of five years at Hogwarts and looking to her left spotted her neat, dark hair disappearing into one of the carriages. With a smile she tugged her suitcase to her side and made her way towards the carriage she knew now held her friend. "In here, Sally," she heard Minerva call, and she looked to her right seeing her friend shoving her suitcase roughly into the overhanging baggage rack. She soon settled down with the rest of her friends. "Hey, ready for your OWLS?" Sally said excitedly, her Irish twang ringing through their compartment. "Then again, that's probably a question I know your answer to." Sally grinned at her friends, watching as Minerva's sharp features remained impassive. Ro looked dolefully at her while Poppy just nodded noncommittally.
"How's your brother?" Minerva asked after a pause as they sorted themselves and their luggage out and sat down comfortably. "He's doing fine, I think," Sally told her friend, brushing a strand of her wispy, short, blonde hair out of her eyes the sort she always did to hide her concern. The rest of the journey, passed by pleasantly with little drama and much chatter and merriment. Jeff Connors and Terry Boots had joined Minerva and her friends in their compartment, bringing with them handfuls of pumpkin pasties, chocolate frogs and cauldron cakes that they had just bought from the lady with the trolley full of food to share with the girls. Minerva and Terry were required to slip out of their compartment occasionally to tend to their newly appointed prefect duties, leaving Sally, Ro, Poppy and Jeff to catch up on their summer activities. Jeff and Sally continued their journey with their usual playful banter while Ro and Poppy were immersed in a deep talk about Quidditch. Minerva and Blake soon joined them, looking slightly harassed but happy. As the train neared Hogwarts they changed into their robes and waited with anticipation as Hogsmeade Station loomed nearer. Almost everybody these days could see the Thestrals, which in Sally's mind was disturbing and heart-breaking. She, Minerva, Ro, Poppy, Terry and Jeff clambered into a carriage that took them on their journey to the castle.
It had started to rain as they made their way up the sloping path towards Hogwarts and an outright downpour commenced as the foursome exited their carriage and clambered up the steps towards the entrance hall, all feeling rather sympathetic towards the new first years now sailing over the lake. Relieved to be in the cozy warmth and dry of the entrance hall, the group made their way to the right and into the Great Hall. They sat down at their house table, eager to remind themselves of the taste of the spectacular food they had greatly missed for the entire summer.
The wait for the first years seemed longer than usual and Ro's stomach growled loudly at her. "Patience, my pet," she said stroking it, causing Sally and Poppy, who sat opposite, to grin. Minerva though did not even look up. Her eyes were glued to a book now on her lap."Where in the world did that come from, Min?" Ro asked aghast. Minerva glanced back down at her book. "I had it in my pocket." Ro silently stared at her friend until Minerva offered a sentence that held more clarity. "I shrank it so it fit." Minerva stated nonchalantly. "Crikey, Minerva! You-" but Ro was interrupted by the opening of the Great Hall doors. Professor Spurge, the Herbology professor and also Sally's favorite teacher came bouncing through them. He was followed in huge contrast by a large group of terrified, squashed-together first years. It was the same every year and the recurrence was why Ro found it hilarious. With Minerva, however, it always went by unnoticed.
"Settle down," said Slughorn genially, shutting the door behind him. There was no real need for the call to order; the moment the class had heard the door close, quiet had fallen and all fidgeting stopped. The mere presence of the OWLS over their heads was enough to ensure a class's silence. "Before we begin today's lesson," said Slughorn, sweeping over to his desk and staring around at them all, "I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Average though some of this class undoubtedly is, I expect you to scrape an "Acceptable" in your OWL." His gaze lingered this time on a few of the more quirky students, who gulped. "After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me," Slughorn went on. "I take only the anyone with over an exceeds expectations into my NEWT Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly not be saying goodbye." His eyes rested on Minerva and Poppy and his lip curled slightly. Minerva glared at the floor not wanting his attention at all. "But we have another year to go before that unhappy moment of farewell," said Slughorn softly, "so, whether or not you are intending to attempt NEWT, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high pass level I have come to expect from my OWL students.
Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned: if you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing." On Minerva's left, Poppy sat up a little straighter, her expression one of utmost attention. The ingredients and method -" Slughorn flicked his wand "- are on the blackboard -" (they appeared there) "- you will find everything you need -" he flicked his wand again "- in the store cupboard -" (the door of the said cupboard sprang open) "- you have an hour and a half: start." Just as Ro had predicted, Slughorn could hardly have set them a more difficult, fiddly potion. The ingredients had to be added to the cauldron in precisely the right order and quantities; the mixture had to be stirred exactly the right number of times, firstly in clockwise, then in anti-clockwise directions; the heat of the flames on which it was simmering had to be lowered to exactly the right level for a specific number of minutes before the final ingredient was added.
"A light silver vapor should now be rising from your potion," called Slughorn, with ten minutes left to go. Ro, who was sweating profusely, looked desperately around the dungeon. Her cauldron was issuing copious amounts of dark grey steam, spitting green sparks. Terry was feverishly prodding the flames at the base of his cauldron with the tip of his wand, as they seemed to be going out. The surface of Minerva and Poppy's potion, however, were a shimmering mist of silver vapor, and as Slughorn swept by he looked down his round face breaking into a smile at his favorite students. At Ro's cauldron, however, Slughorn stopped, and looked down at it with a horrified look on his face. "Miss Hooch, what is this supposed to be?" he asked looking aghast. The Draught of Peace," said Ro tensely. "Tell me, Miss Hooch, have you read the instructions properly?" asked Slughorn softly, trying to understand the bleak condition of her potion. "Yes, well I did," said Ro, her fingers clenched tightly together."Read the third line of the instructions again Miss Hooch and please be more careful next time." Ro squinted at the blackboard; it was not easy to make out the instructions through the haze of multicolored steam now filling the dungeon.
"Add powdered moonstone, stir three times counter-clockwise, and allow simmering for seven minutes then adding two drops of syrup of hellebore." Her heart sank. She had not added syrup of hellebore, but had proceeded straight to the fourth line of the instructions after allowing his potion to simmer for seven minutes. "Did you do even read the line Ro?" Minerva asked tersely. "No," said Ro very quietly. They were interrupted by Slughorn's booming voice "Homework: twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making, to be handed in on Thursday." While everyone around her filled their flagons, Minerva cleared away their things. Ro's potion was now giving off a foul odor of bad eggs. She stuffed her wand back into her pocket and slumped down on to his seat, watching everyone else march up to Slughorn's desk with filled and corked flagons. When at long last the bell rang, Minerva and her three friends tugged up the dungeon stairs.
After Potions, Divination was Minerva's least favorite class, which was due mainly to the fact that she did not believe in divination. A thin woman heavily draped in shawls and glittering with strings of beads taught the lessons; she always reminded Minerva of some kind of insect, with her glasses hugely magnifying her eyes. She was busy putting copies of battered leather-bound books on each of the spindly little tables with which her room was littered when Minerva entered the room, but the light cast by the lamps covered by scarves and the low-burning, sickly-scented fire was so dim she appeared not to notice her as she took a seat in the shadows. The rest of the class arrived over the next five minutes. Ro, Poppy and Sally emerged from the trapdoor, looked around carefully, spotted Minerva and made directly for her, or as directly as they could while having to wend their way between tables, chairs and overstuffed puffers.
"Good-day," said Professor Trelawney in her usual misty, dreamy voice "and welcome back to Divination. I have, of course, been following your fortunes most carefully over the holidays, and am delighted to see that you have all returned to Hogwarts safely - as, of course, I knew you would. "You will find on the tables before you copies of The Dream Oracle, by Inigo Imago. Dream interpretation is a most important means of divining the future and one that may very probably be tested in your OWL. Not, of course, that I believe examination passes or failures are of the remotest importance when it comes to the sacred art of divination. If you have the Seeing Eye, certificates and grades matter very little. However, the Headmaster likes you to sit the examination, so:" Her voice trailed away delicately, leaving them all in no doubt that Professor Trelawney considered her subject above such sordid matters as examinations. "Turn, please, to the introduction and read what Imago has to say on the matter of dream interpretation. Then, divide into pairs. Use The Dream Oracle to interpret each other's most recent dreams. Carry on."
The one good thing to be said for this lesson was that it was not a double period. By the time they had all finished reading the introduction of the book, they had barely ten minutes left for dream interpretation. At the table next to Minerva and her friends, Jeff had paired up with Terry, who immediately embarked on a long-winded explanation of a nightmare involving a pair of giant scissors wearing his grandmother's best hat; Minerva and her friends looked at each other glumly. "I never remember my dreams," said Ro, "you say one." "You must remember one of them," said Minerva impatiently. She was not going to share her dreams with anyone. "Well, I dreamed I was playing Quidditch the other night," said Ro, screwing up her face in an effort to remember. "What dye reckons that means?" "Probably that you're going to be eaten by a giant marshmallow or something," said Poppy, turning the pages of The Dream Oracle without interest. It was very dull work looking up bits of dreams in the Oracle and Minerva was not cheered up when Professor Trelawney set them the task of keeping a dream diary for a month as homework. When the bell went, she and her friends led the way back down the ladder, Ro grumbling loudly. "D'you realize how much homework we've got already? Binns set us a foot-and-a-half-long essay on giant wars, Slughorn wants a foot on the use of moonstones, and now we've got a month's dream diary from Trelawney!" she continued.
The term was flowing by for Minerva and her friends. She shook her head in frustration as she entered the classroom for the transfiguration lesson. Albus was missing again and without any explanation. She had been unable to see her professor privately since her arrival hence it did not make it easy for her to know his whereabouts. Albus Dumbledore; a man she loved for who he was rather than the position he held in the society, the man who held her heart just because he had a heart incomparable in its vastness and a nature more compassionate than any Minerva had ever seen. That night she made her way to his office again. Lifting her head and taking a deep, calming breath, Minerva knocked on the door of the Transfiguration classroom and unhurriedly pushed it open. Dumbledore was sitting at his desk and looked up as she clicked the door shut. His eyes fixed on hers as she stood at a halt in front of the door, and he peered intently at her. After a few moments, he spoke "Ah," said Albus, almost in a sigh. "Your burning curiosity and my – desperate desire to confide make the resisting path a thorny one."
Albus then surprised Minerva by tugging off his half-moon spectacles and rubbing is eyes, one with the thumb and one with the fingers of his right hand. She sat back down steadily as he restored his spectacles to their rightful place at the end of his long nose. Minerva kept silent, sensing that Albus had not quite finished articulating his musings. He then confirmed her feeling. "I have a question for you, Minerva," he stated gradually and carefully, obvious in the thorough examination of his statements before they were voiced. "The Ministry, and others besides, do not think it wise to – engage in such matters with our students. And I quite agree when concerning those in the lower years; however our minds differ pertaining to the elder. "You have heard about the two opposing protests at the moment, of course; one against the wizarding world taking a part in the muggle war; the other in favor of it. There is a majority within the ministry itself who stand firmly against active participation in this war purely because they believe that this is not our fight, and that our intrusion will cause disruption even amongst the allies. These people also say that a wizarding side, even if fighting against a corrupt opposition, has an unfair advantage over its rival, insofar as there is not a single chance the magical side can be defeated."
Minerva could not restrain from responding in outrage to this. "But the Ministry can't think the muggles so proud and headstrong that they would not welcome all the help they can get, no matter who it is from. We could end the war now! Surely to save the lives of so many, the Ministry would be under moral obligation to intervene!" Minerva's vehemence forced her voice into exclamation, but Albus understood it as the question it was intended to be. "I am pleased to hear you are so vociferous on this issue, Minerva," Albus replied, his eyes adopting their usual twinkle as he peered over his half-moon spectacles. Minerva lowered her fierce gaze sheepishly. "You need not feel insecure about your ideas," he said gently, responding to her reaction of discomfort. "I happen to agree with you, and I also, if you'll excuse my immodesty, know for certain that I have been right all this time in trusting the minds of the elder students. You clearly have the ability to form your own astute opinions and I believe the sensible input of the youths in our world is invaluable to the Ministry."
All of a sudden a gleam of sorrow flooded into Albus's face, but, although Minerva did not miss it, it was quickly checked and masked. She decided in one bold move to inquire about the thought behind that now shrouded expression. "You have not said all you wish to tell me, Albus." She spoke gently but surprised herself at her almost presumptuous demeanor. Albus simply smiled a small smile at her; a sad smile she thought; a smile that comes with the burden of wisdom and knowledge amidst the lack of being able to make people see and understand. They sat for some time in silence. Minerva was absorbed in her thoughts of what Albus had conveyed to her, then on the fact that he had confided in her. He held her eyes with his and there was a few more seconds silence before he spoke. "The Ministry has requested," he began slowly and deeply, "that no teacher at this school may make his opinion on Ministry matters known to, what they deem, impressionable minds. "No one at the Ministry will heed a particular statement of mine, and I am forbidden to speak of it, as it is greatly lacking in proof."
Here, Dumbledore breathed deeply through his nose, as though bracing himself before following his instincts and going against Ministry advice. "I have a powerful – impression, Minerva, that the war we are not fighting in – is our war." Minerva's eyes, having wandered in her contemplations of his words, shot back to his at once; her brow faintly furrowed and her mouth opened a little in shock as she realized his words. "Do you mean that this is a wizard war, Albus?" She continued her astounded stare, her eyes imploring him to respond. Albus's lips remained closed as he, once more, held for silent pause. It seemed to Minerva that he was again considering his next words carefully. He spoke in a slow and troubled way, revealing more openly the sorrow he had earlier let her glimpse.
"I believe that if we do not join this war, the battle will be lost not only for muggles but for wizards as well, and not just the battle but the soul of society. There are deeper forces at work in this war that the Ministry have not, and doubtless for some time will not acknowledge; and until they do, our world will continue to darken under this – ominous cloud of threat." "I don't quite understand, Albus," said Minerva puzzled but no longer self-conscious. "Do you mean that these deeper forces are the works of wizards?" Albus merely nodded but did not elaborate any more. "Albus-"she was interrupted even before she could properly start her question, "Minerva, my dear these will have to hold your curiosity and concern for a while. It's late," and so it was, it was past midnight. "The holidays for Christmas start day after tomorrow, maybe then…" he seemed undecided. Minerva suddenly realized how frail and tired he looked. "Albus I should have gone earlier, you need to sleep, look at yourself!" her exclamation made him laugh "all right mother McGonagall I will retire for the night now" he chuckled as he held open his office door for her. "Good night Albus" she called before leaving.
It was the last day before the holidays were to begin, and the Great Hall looked especially splendid, decked out fantastically for the coming Yuletide. At the noisy Gryffindor table Minerva twisted around in her seat to allow Jeff and Terry to sit as they joined her and her friends Poppy, Ro and Sally. "I'm hoping to see my younger brothers' again." laughed Poppy. "They start next year. Linus is going to be sorted into Gryffindor for sure, but Linden might just be in Hufflepuff like mum was." she said, nodding to Sally as she spoke. "And I can't wait to spend the holidays with my family for a change! It's going to be wonderful." chuckled Sally. Her eyes lit up at the very thought. "What about you, Minerva?" Minerva gave a wry smile and answered, "I'm staying here, like always, but I don't mind."
The topic shifter to much sterner things as the breakfast continued. "But with the war on the continent and ..." started Jeff "It's their affair, not ours, not anymore than that muggle war is our concern." Terry told him reprovingly. "Speak for yourself!" said Sally. "I have my brother in the army." "Sorry." Minerva could not help but think of her conversation with Albus last night. If he were right- she was drawn from her musing by Ro who was poking her with her elbow. "They say that war is almost over." said Ro, holding up a copy of The Daily Prophet for them to see. "The muggle war, you mean?" questioned Minerva. "Certainly, as there is no other war on." Terry scoffed, reaching for the newspaper. "If you ask me, something should be done." said Minerva, looking at the horrible headline: Countless muggles slain by Hitler and his followers in Germany, France, and Poland. There were pictures of the corpses on the snowy ground. French Aurors and English volunteers were sorting out the mess. She squinted, looking at the face of one of the volunteers. Minerva gasped sharply when she realized that it was their transfigurations' professor, Albus Dumbledore. She glanced from the picture where the man was standing in the snow, covering his eyes with one hand, to the head table where Albus sat at the right hand of Headmaster Dippet. He looked quite sad and tired too. While his colleagues obviously considered the massacres on the continent none of their affair, Albus took a different opinion.
She could hear snatches of the two professors' conversation even above the chatter around her. "Still playing at being a mediwizard in France, Albus?" So that is what he did when he left his classes unmanned. "Hardly a mediwizard, everyone I've seen has been dead." "Mortician then?" questioned the young professor at Dippet's other elbow: Slughorn, potions' master and the head of Slytherin house. There was a sort of grimace on his face. Minerva saw Albus's eyes flash at the tactless words. "I think of myself only as a volunteer and do what I can for those people ..." said the auburn-haired professor, his voice growing so low that Minerva could not catch his words, which drew a dry, coughing laugh from Slughorn and a rather ugly smirk from Dippet. "Try not to get too involved. Those people will most likely be dead in a year." advised Dippet, patting Dumbledore's arm in a paternal manner. The headmaster was aged and considered anyone under one hundred and twenty-five a mere child.
"Armando, if the Ministry holds with that attitude, no doubt they will be." he answered. "I should be making my announcement soon, about the muggle war and so forth." said Dippet, perhaps choosing to ignore his colleague. "I still think the muggle world is heading toward annihilation." said Slughorn. He cared nothing for muggles or the things of their world. "Then they will take us with them." said Dumbledore. "Our communities may often be separate, but our destinies are not." Slughorn merely looked at him as though he had spoken in some alien language. The headmaster rose from his seat and called for the attention of the students, who were nearly finished with their breakfasts. Minerva and Ro, both of whom had been attending to the conversation at the head table while Poppy, Sally, Terry and Jeff sniped at each other over the newspaper, exchanged nervous glances. If Dippet had an announcement, then it could not be good.
"Despite our earlier intentions to see all the students who wish to do so go back to their homes for the holidays this year, the faculty has decided that it is too risky for those dwelling near urban areas or in the southern portion of England to return to their homes. Arrangements have been made for the effected students to remain at Hogwarts for the holiday season, where, with any luck we shall all have a very merry Christmas." said Dippet. Groans went up from all the tables. Minerva patted Poppy's shoulder comfortingly. Sally was actually crying, but she had good reason. She had only seen her brother twice in almost three years because of the war and hence of the bombings and threat of invasion. "At least we'll all be together for the holidays." Minerva told them quietly. Her friends smiled ruefully at her.
Minerva could not help but to notice that Albus seemed more distracted than usual in class that day. It was the final day of lessons before the holidays began, so no one else seemed aware of the fact, even when the professor could not recall what he had just transfigured into a raven. It had been a black top hat, Minerva reminded him. Albus thanked her and turned the bird back into a hat. Minerva tried not to think of the cause of his distraction but failed miserable. "Miss McGonagall? Minerva? Are you quite all right?" questioned the professor. She blushed a magnificent crimson as she realized that class was being dismissed and she was still sitting there, staring dreamily at the ceiling.
"Yes, professor. I'm so sorry." Minerva stammered keeping the formal address for the benefit of the remaining students. He chuckled softly and sat down at a chair near hers and said, "I can hardly fault you, Minerva. I find my mind wandering quite a bit these days too." "The war?" she questioned. "Yes." he affirmed. "I saw your picture in the newspaper." she stated. "Did you now? The headmaster will not be pleased." "I think ... well, I think that it's very brave and noble of you Albus." said Minerva, suddenly feeling very proud. "I just want them to know that they haven't been forgotten by all of us over here, that some of us are concerned and aware of their struggles." said Albus. "But it is very kind of you to say so. I am gratified to hear that I am at least setting an example for my students." "You are." she assured him. Then she faltered slightly as she said, "But, Albus, we don't really know what is happening exactly on the continent." "Of course not. Very few people do, even if they read the paper." nodded Albus sadly. "The Ministry doesn't want to frighten people. I can understand that, to a point, of course, but this crisis won't resolve itself, and our brothers in Europe need our assistance to rid themselves of this accursed Dark Wizard and his minions." "So you won't tell me?" "No, Minerva, it would be too terrible for you to hear. I can only say that there are far fewer muggles than there were a few years ago." he answered. "Killed?" "Yes, and tortured as well. I have seen the evidence of both myself." he said, sighing softly and rubbing his eyes under his spectacles. "I'm sorry, Albus." "So am I. And I will continue to do what I can until the Ministry decides to act ... whenever that might be."
Minerva knew that be whatever it may she could not stop feeling concerned. But, after the conversation after class, she felt a sense of pride for Albus. A knock at the door roused Minerva from her musings. It was still a bit early for anyone else to be returning from class, unless her friends had chosen to come after her. "Yes?" she called, leaving her bed. The door creaked open to reveal Albus. He looked vaguely concerned. "I'm fine." said Minerva stiffly. Albus looked over his glasses at her. She looked away quickly. "Yes?" Albus prompted, putting a hand on her shoulder. She was trembling, and it surprised him. He drew her closer as her face scrunched up as though she were holding back tears. Minerva was a very tender-hearted girl, and no matter what front she put on to hide it, Albus could always tell. "Albus, it is so difficult to find out the truth about these things. Would you consider perhaps telling me more of what is going on over there? I know I'm young, but I want to know." "I will consider it, Minerva. It could be for the best perhaps if your generation is more informed about this situation. I am going to France again tonight, but I won't be returning until Christmas. When I do return, we will talk again." he promised her. "Do be careful, Albus." she cautioned, looking up into his twinkling blue eyes. "I will take the utmost care, I assure you. I have no intention of being added to the growing list of victims." he said as he turned to go.
The holidays were passing swiftly for the students at Hogwarts. Only a handful had been allowed to return to their homes, and these were mostly Slytherin upperclassmen whose parents lived in secluded manors in the North of England, Scotland, and Ireland. Of course, this only made the holidays happier for those who had to stay behind, especially the Gryffindors. The castle was decorated with unsurpassing festiveness to take the students' minds off their exile. Hogwarts had never looked so wonderful. The staff had struggled to outdo themselves each year since the war and the bombings had begun, especially Professor Filtwick, the middle-aged charms' professor, who decorated everything in sight with charmed lights and floating candles. There was Christmas trees by the dozen in the hallways and in the dormitories, and the scent of fresh pine and cedar pervaded the corridors.
As Minerva sat with her friends at the special feast that evening, she looked at her Christmas gifts and sighed softly. Her friends had given her candy bought during their last trip to Hogsmeade, which was quite a jovial present. Her friends had in return received Quidditch things from her: equipment Ro and Jeff and fan gear for Poppy, Sally and Terry. Ro was grinning as she rifled through his broom care kit and Jeff was tossing his new practice Quaffle in the air with an impish look, obviously waiting to use it to nail any Slytherin who ventured too close. It would be put to more practical uses during the team's next practice. But the one thing Minerva had wanted for Christmas, she had yet to receive. She had wanted to see Albus again and remind him of his promise, but his chair at the head table was empty, as it had been at both breakfast and lunch time. He had yet to return from France.
As Minerva made her way past the Entrance Hall, she glimpsed a figure moving through the shadows. Stopping in her tracks and watching the robed and hooded form making its way toward the stairs to the hospital wing, her curiosity was piqued. Who would be out at this time of the evening, especially during the feast? The figure, she guessed, was a man, and did not appear to have noticed her position at the beginning of the corridor that led to the Tower stairs. Who was it then? Minerva took a deep breath and chose to follow him. Strange things were afoot in the castle already. It was best to know what was going on instead of remaining ignorant, she decided, following at discrete distance. The person moved with slow and labored steps and kept a hand on the wall as he moved. There was something decidedly familiar about him. Minerva frowned as she caught a glimpse of dark blue robes beneath the heavy hooded cloak. She moved from shadow to shadow, hoping that he did not turn. "Minerva, a cat you may be in spirit, but since you are still in human form you would do well to remember that you are wearing heavy boots." said a familiar voice.
Her breath caught in her throat, and she froze where she stood. The figure turned and threw back his hood to reveal Albus Dumbledore. He looked incredibly weary. There were signs of light bruising on the right side of his face. "Albus?" she questioned, finding her voice. "I said that I would be home for Christmas." he chuckled, beckoning her forward. "It slipped my mind." she admitted, embracing him lightly in greeting. "The holiday season can do that, I imagine." he said, looking over his spectacles at her. "I am on my way to visit Madam Bell ..." Albus began to say. "Are you hurt?" Minerva questioned quickly feeling nauseous at the thought. "It isn't serious." he assured her seeing her blanch. "Let me help you." she offered. Albus nodded gratefully and put an arm around her shoulders. A slight blush crept into her pale cheeks as well as his as she began helping him down the corridor. Being so close to him, especially after she had been so worried, very nearly made her giddy. She glanced up almost shyly into his blue eyes. They seemed more sorrowful than usual, but his eyes were still, were always quite lovely.
"Shouldn't you be in the Great Hall, enjoying the feast?" he asked with sudden concern. "I got permission to go back to the dormitories." she replied, noticing that Albus was favoring his right foot and ankle. She tried to help him compensate. "Too much candy before mealtime? Of course, there really isn't any such thing as too much candy." Minerva took a deep breath and said, "No, I was just worried and not in the mood to party ..." At the doors to the hospital wing, Albus paused and looked at the sad face of his escort. These days were supposed to be happy. He had been very concerned for his students, for all of the students and the staff, but Minerva seemed to occupy the front of his mind. He could not help worrying about her. She had grown to be his best friend in the last few years, understanding him when no one else did. He could not even think what he would do if something were to happen to her. He pushed aside those thoughts quickly. She was another of his students, why did he have to feel so attached to her? it was not like she was his only friend though his best. He sighed in resignation, lifting Minerva's chin. "Thank you, Minerva, for seeing me here safely. I had best see Madam Bell alone as she will not be pleased with my recent conduct." he told her. "Yes, Albus." she said, hesitating as she offered him a small smile. "Minerva?" "Yes Albus?" she turned her hand on the door, "Thank you tabby" he said smiling at her. her face broke into the brightest smile he had seen since he had returned. Albus realized how much he had wanted to see her smile like that as she turned and left the infirmary.
Minerva was curled up in a comfortable chair in the Gryffindor common room, reading an excellent book on Animagus transformations to supplement her extensive course work. This was the perfect way to spend the holidays in her opinion, though many of her friends, who were outdoors in the snow, building snowmen and having snowball fights, adamantly disagreed with her and rued Minerva's studious streak. This was especially true of Ro and Jeff, who had plans to build an igloo near the lake, with some special magical assistance that they had hoped Minerva would provide. "Minerva, Professor Dumbledore wants to see you in his office." she heard Terry call from the portrait hole.
She looked up from her book to see him brushing snow from his robes. "About what?" she questioned, marking her place and leaving her chair. "He didn't say." shrugged Terry. "All right then." she nodded, walking toward the portrait hole. "If he tells you anything about the war, you will tell the rest of us, right?" questioned Terry as he paused at the stairs leading to his dormitory in the Ravenclaw tower. "Curious, Terry? I thought you were rather insistent that it isn't our concern." said Minerva before stepping through the portrait hole and making her way to Dumbledore's office.
Wispy was just leaving a tray of tea and scones with the professor when he invited Minerva into the office, which was a cozy room that was very similar to the Gryffindor common room, only smaller and quieter. Minerva had a seat in a chair by the fire, her usual seat when she visited the office, which had been quite frequently in the past years due to her extensive training in transfigurations. Albus poured the drinks and joined her in a matching chair. He regarded her coolly as they began drinking their tea. "You look quite well this afternoon." Minerva commented, noticing that the bruises were gone and he no longer favored any of his limbs. Madam Bell had certainly taken proper care of him. "And you look quite lovely in those new robes. They bring out the color in your eyes quite nicely tabby. A Christmas gift, I presume?" he said. Minerva nearly choked on her tea to her host's lasting amusement. "Yes, from Poppy's parents." she managed weakly. "They have excellent taste." he chuckled. "Thank you, Albus." "I suppose after last evening's excitement you must be a bit more reticent to hear about the situation on the continent." he said. "Actually, quite to the contrary. The war is no longer just their situation, is it? You have been hurt in the war trying to save as many people as you can. How much closer to home can this get?" questioned Minerva with a dry laugh.
When Albus looked at her, a fierce pride shone in his blue eyes. He had perhaps expected Minerva to hesitate. She was not made of stone or steel. The idea of what the war was capable of doing to even the least of opponents would have rattled every student he could think of. But Minerva was still willing to learn more instead of hiding in ignorance as many witches and wizards were doing, especially those at the Ministry who counseled against involvement in the war. "You are correct in your assertions. The conflict is beginning to affect more of us here than it did a year or two ago." "Then something will be done?" Albus took a deep breath and answered, "I do not know for sure. The Ministry is made up of an indecisive group of people who remember the horrors of the last wizarding war all too vividly. But the time to strike is coming. Either it will be soon or never. They say that Grindelwald is ...""One minute!" she had shouted out even before she could control herself. "What did you say? Which wizard is behind this war? Grindelwald?" all conscious thought seemed to have left her permanently. The murderer of her parents was alive and killing more people!
Minerva had been very hard to control. She had shouted in rage then whimpered in agony and at last settled down to trembling in her chair. Albus, who had been unaware of the fact had found himself dumbfounded. After Minerva had quitened down and sat quivering in her chair, he tentatively touched her chin and made her look at him. "Tabby, my dear, you are not the only one to have lost your family to him." He said still not knowing how to phrase what he wanted to say. "What would you know Albus, how would you understand how it feels to know that your parent's murderer is free and the ministry is trying to ignore his presence?"
"I know tabby because I lost my own parents to them as well. He killed both my parents and raped my sister in front of my very eyes before killing her as well. I was unable to do anything." Albus's voice was hardly audible and hoarse with emotions but for Minerva there was no other sound. She could not even start to think how he must have felt, how he must have blamed himself. For what seemed eternity they stared at each other each realizing that they shared a common pain. Then Minerva rose from her chair and walked over to him. Lifting his face by the chin, she wiped away the tears from them before wiping away the tears that had escaped her own eyes. Unable to hold himself any longer Albus rested his face on her shoulders and cried profusely into her neck as fresh tears escaped from her own eyes. Minerva could feel the huge dam break releasing the tears he had been holding for all these years as were hers. They both cried till no more tears came holding onto each other all the while. A while after their tears had stopped, Albus lifted his head and Minerva quickly dropped her arm that she had rapped round him protectively, stepping back. Minerva I-"he began already trying to apologize. "Albus we both needed it, we have needed it for years now." She cut in quietly. "You are of course right tabby, like always." He replied a small smile gracing his lips as he felt his burdens fall, leaving him lighter than he had felt from that horrid day.
"That's why you don't want us, students, that is, involved." said Minerva, shivering as she pictured what could happen to the girls may be even some of her friends. "In part." he nodded. "What else did you see in France, Albus?" As you can image, Grindelwald wasted no time in his search for those of mixed blood and muggle parentage." Dumbledore paused and let his words sink in. "I traveled across the country with groups of people who believe this to be our war as well, most of whom have had too little training as there are few seasoned Aurors who would go against the ministry. We went from village to village mostly among wizarding folk, making lists of those who had been killed and seeing that some semblance of order is being kept, that graves are being dug and marked because none of those children and none of their parents are left alive any longer. Grindelwald found every last muggle-born child in. Not nearly as many as we have here, but very many to die such horrible deaths."
"But how did he find them?" "Grindelwald has many spies. There was a village near the border between France and Germany. The muggle war had passed through it sometime earlier, devastating the place, but the wizarding community in the village had been left largely intact thanks to some effort by a family of mixed blood. When we arrived, that family was dead, but all of their pureblooded neighbors had been spared. Someone in that village had to be working with Grindelwald, though we could not discover who, although we suspect a recently retired professor who lives in the village. It was the most unconscionable example of treachery I had ever seen." said Dumbledore, leaning forward in his chair and clasping his hands together. Minerva could see the anger in his eyes.
"Was that where you were injured?" she inquired after a long moment of silence. He glanced up at her and shook his head. "Actually, one of the people with me stepped on a land mine. That's an exploding thing in the ground that muggle armies leave behind to slow down their enemies. I was about ten feet behind him. It was like a blasting curse. I landed hard on my ankle. But what it did to the person ..." he said, trailing off and shaking his head again. "Did you know him very well?" "Henri? No, I cannot say that I did. He was seventeen. He had quit Beaux-batons to help in the war. That's almost everything I knew about the young man. Philip said that he had passed the certification tests with flying colors." "Albus, what are we going to do? I know you say that I'm too young to help you in anyway, but you must understand what I feel like sitting by when my parent's murderer is raging havoc."
"Don't be foolish, Minerva. Things are being done. I'm not the only one who goes over there to provide assistance, you know. There are Aurors over there without permission and less qualified witches and wizards too. Mediwitchs and wizards, Quidditch players, broom salesmen, and all manner of folk are taking an interest. People are slowly realizing that as you put it, 'something must be done'. The only problem is unity of purpose and effort, which the Ministry should provide for us and simply isn't." he explained. Then he smiled at her and added, "And you are, of course, doing something very important." "What?" "Listening, to me tabby. I feel much stronger and more determined now than when you first came in this afternoon. And, therefore, when I return to the battlefields in a few days, I will be of more use to my fellow combatants, if I might count myself among their ranks." Albus told her, patting her knee as he stood. Minerva nodded noncommittally at his words, she wanted to do something but she knew he was right as always. "I'm glad to have been of some service." she managed. Albus laughed and said, "You have been of a great of service, Minerva. I don't know what I would do without you. Perhaps I would talk to myself or something." Then he grew somber as she left her seat. "I believe you should return to your studies now. I have some paperwork that I must catch up." he told her, leaving more than a few questions unanswered.
After classes ended for the week, Minerva began making her way through the crowded halls and back to the Tower when she was stopped by Terry who pressed a note into her hand. "Wants to see you about something ... again, I expect." he shrugged, nodding in the direction of Dumbledore's office. "Will you tell us more about the war on the continent this time too? Ro, Sally, Jeff and Poppy are eager to hear ..." "Say it, Terry." said Minerva, unfolding the note and skimming it. Terry had been right: Dumbledore wanted to see her. "It is our concern." he sighed, rolling his eyes. "Very well." she nodded. "Take my books for me?" she asked with a smile. "Of course." Terry agreed. "See you all at dinner then." she said before taking off down the corridor. Albus was sitting in his chair by the fire when she entered the office. There was no freshly prepared tea this time. He seemed deep in thought as she collapsed easily into the chair reserved for guests, and her especially. He smiled as he looked up and over his spectacles at Minerva.
"Mister Boots is obviously an excellent courier. I imagined it would take him sometime to locate you." said Albus. "Well, we do share a class schedule, you know." she pointed out. "Naturally." he nodded thoughtfully. "I wanted you to know that I am leaving for France this evening. I won't be coming back until sometime in mid February unless the situation over there alters greatly or I am needed elsewhere." Her throat tightened slightly. He would be absent for more than three or four weeks at the very least. That was practically a month! She could not immediately remember the last time she had gone so long without seeing him. "I see ..." she managed. "It seems that I owe something of a debt to Professor Binns as he spoke out on my behalf at the last staff meeting. Dippet was quite prepared to forbid me from going, but Binns managed to persuade him to do otherwise, though I can easily imagine that this extended visit may be my last as Dippet isn't about to truly change his mind unless the Ministry itself does." Minerva felt slightly numb as she asked him, "What will you be doing over there this time, Albus?" "More of the same, unfortunately." he replied with a soft sigh.
"Philip was killed last Tuesday. I'm torn. I want to help them and at the same time I do not wish to abandon my students. It is a difficult thing. Perhaps I want too much." "But you want the right things." "Do I now?" he chuckled, looking at her very carefully with his twinkling blue eyes. "Who can say? But I think I will remain here a while longer and help out there when I can. Maybe when they locate his whereabouts ... And who knows?" he said mysteriously, shrugging. "You will be gone for some time." "Yes." "I will try to put together a study group or something in your absence with your permission, of course so that we won't fall behind." "Of course, Minerva. That is a wonderful idea. And see that you continue working on your OWLS studies as well. I think you will do wonderfully." "Thank you." she said quietly. "I could think of no one else that I would trust so fully to take care of my students while I am gone. I trust that with Mister Donovan's assistance Gryffindor house will be in very capable hands as well." he said, naming the other Gryffindor prefect. "You want me to look after the house?" "Yes, Minerva, and you are a prefect." Albus told her mater-of-factly.
"I will do as you have asked." "Excellent." he said, glancing at a clock on the wall. "I must be leaving soon." he said, rising from his seat. Minerva clambered to her feet as well. Looking at him in the soft light of the office, she tried to memorize every detail of his softly smiling face. She wanted to remember him exactly as he stood there before her. He chuckled quietly at the look in her dark eyes and held out his arms to her. "Perhaps I would not be overstepping my bounds to hug my best pupil before I leave?" he questioned. "Of course not." she answered. His arms were strong and comforting as they encircled her. She allowed herself to melt into them, feeling her heart flutter as she did so. Minerva chuckled quietly as she realized that he still smelled like lemon drops and chocolate, but then there wasn't a student at the school who was unaware of his love of sweets. She felt his fingertips touch her long black hair as he released her. She managed a smile. "I will have news for you when I return, Minerva. Take care until then." "And you should do the same." "Naturally." he nodded before showing her out. Somehow she always made it both easier and harder for him to leave.
Minerva was having her lunch in the great hall when Ro leaned over from the Hufflepuff table and nudged her gently and whispered, "Take a look who just sat down at the head table." Minerva looked up from her book and turned toward the front of the hall. She smiled with relief as she saw Professor Dumbledore take his usual seat next to the headmaster, which had been empty for what had seemed like weeks and weeks. He looked just a bit thinner than she remembered and perhaps more careworn or tired, and instead of being dressed in his customary midnight blue robes or in standard school robes, he was wearing warm traveling attire. As he took his seat, Dumbledore noticed her in the crowd of students and nodded to her, which made Minerva smile even more and blush just slightly too.
Dippet whispered something to Dumbledore that caused him to turn and nod in affirmation. "Minerva, you must go see him tonight." whispered Sally. "He must have all sorts of news about the war and everything." she added. "Things that aren't in the papers." said Jeff, who had now joined their table. Over the previous months all of her friends had begun to show an increasing interest in the muggle war in continental Europe, possibly brought about by the attention the conflict was receiving in all of the wizarding newspapers and Minerva's own enthusiasm in discuss the topic, including the inside information she received from Dumbledore. Sally, Ro and Poppy were by far the most interested of all her friends because of what Dumbledore had been telling her and the incredible amount of respect that they had for their head of house.
"Really! He probably needs to rest after such a strenuous undertaking. I'm sure he'll send for me when or if he wishes to discuss his trip to France." she said quietly, attempting to return to her book. "Min-err-va!" Ro whined, tugging at the book. "Hush." she said, pursing her lips. "She's right." said Poppy more sensibly. "It wouldn't be fair to bother him tonight after such a long journey." "He probably just apparated to Hogsmeade. It wouldn't have been all that ..." Terry started to say, but the three young women, Ro included, all glared at him. "All right, all right." he shrugged. As Minerva left the Great Hall later the evening, leaving her friends to their never-ending discussions, in which she never usually took greater part, she heard the sound of quick and even footsteps behind her. Pausing and glancing over her shoulder, she smiled. "Good evening." she said, waiting for Dumbledore as he caught up to her. "Minerva." he nodded. "How was your visit abroad?" she inquired. Dumbledore gestured for her to walk with him down the corridor that would take them to his office. He shook his head slightly. "No, Grindelwald has not been found and the muggle war delays the search. Even the few remaining seasoned Aurors are not inclined to enter the cities that are being bombed around the clock. The risk is too great. I hardly blame them." "And the Ministry of Magic?" "Indecisive as ever." he shrugged, opening the door to his office. "Lady's first." he said with a slight bow.
"Then nothing has changed." "Very little has changed, but more people volunteer their assistance each day, and that is always something." "Ro and Poppy ..." she began, but stopped, shaking her head. "Yes?" "They've begun to feel as I do, that we shouldn't be sitting here idly." "You've had a profound effect upon your peers then." "No, you have, Albus. They see the lengths that you go to ... and they want to do the same. What should I tell them?" Minerva questioned. "Only what I have told you, many times now." he chuckled. "Your generation will have its own conflicts, and if this one lasts much longer, you may all take part in it too, but for now your obligations are to yourselves, your families, and your studies. Let those of us who are older and perhaps a little wiser handle this while we yet may." "So you're counseling noninvolvement?" "Of course not, Minerva. I am merely counseling caution to my young students who have seen far too few winters." he told her gently.
"Now, I want to hear about anything I might have missed during my extended absence." said Dumbledore, changing the subject. "And how are your studies coming? I noticed that you were reading at dinner tonight." "After dinner." she clarified, pulling a book from one of her robe pockets. "That book is quite advanced." said Albus with pleased smile, taking the volume to examine it. "I was considering it for my seventh year's next term." he added. "Then I would be considerably ahead." "Rubbish. You already are, Minerva." he commented. "Thank you Albus." She had bade him goodnight quickly as he, with the permission of the headmaster, had spent another two weeks in France after bring his classes back up to speed, which was an easy enough task, thanks to Minerva and her study group.
Minerva had her routine of classes, study groups, and other academic tasks to sustain her while Dumbledore was in France for days at a time, always returning a little more worried and haggard. She no longer needed to ask him how the war on the continent was progressing. She could see it in his eyes. Grindelwald was getting stronger. Then, one morning as Minerva made her way toward the Great Hall for an early breakfast, she heard raised voices in the staff room. She paused and listened as she recognized the voice of Headmaster Dippet. "This is final, Albus. You cannot return to the continent until the school year is over. It has become much too dangerous." "But, Armando, they are close, very close, to locating his stronghold. They will need every possible resource to defeat him. If I remain here ..." said Dumbledore, the barest hint of desperation in his voice. "You are only one man, Albus. I cannot spare your talents any longer. You have students taking their tests soon. You must be here for them. Your friends must simply make do." said Dippet with a note of finality in his tone.
Minerva frowned. Was the headmaster a fool? Albus should go where he was needed. That was imperative. He had supported his friends and colleagues aboard for a long time. How could he be expected to abandon them at this juncture? "You don't understand the magnitude of the conflict ..." Dumbledore started to say. "That is quite enough. You have a future here, Albus, and everyone knows that. Don't say anything rash, anything that you might regret." Dippet warned him sternly. There was a short silence. Minerva strained to hear what was said thereafter. "And everyone else on the faculty concurs with your decision?" Dumbledore questioned. "I am the headmaster of this school. I don't need their support in this matter. Remember that you were granted an extraordinary amount of latitude this year, Albus." said Dippet. "And for that I am grateful." said Dumbledore resignedly.
Minerva ducked around a corner as the staff room door opened. She listened as she heard the sound of retreating footsteps, Dippet going to have his breakfast, not at all bothered by the fact that his actions might condemn many on the continent to death. He might believe that Albus Dumbledore was only one man, but Minerva knew that he was a powerful ally to the forces of good and a wizard to be reckoned with, though he often chose to exhibit a certain modesty and humility that belied his greatness. When she was quite sure that Dippet had gone, she walked to the staff room door and peered cautiously inside. Professor Dumbledore was standing behind the high backed chair that stood before the hearth. Dumbledore glanced over his shoulder and smiled rather sadly. "I knew you were around." he said to her. "Knowing that helped me to keep my temper." "I certainly would have lost mine." said Minerva. "You heard all of that then?" "I heard ... enough." she nodded. "As did I." he agreed laughing quietly. "What will you do now?" she asked, noticing only as he turned toward her that his nose had been broken and that his left arm was in a sling. She gasped aloud and asked, "What the devil happened to you, Albus?"
"Which question to answer." he mused. "Albus, you must go and see Madam Bell straight away. Your nose ... You should have something done." she said, reaching out to touch his face. He leaned down slightly as she stood on tip-toe to examine his face, cupping it in her hands very gently. His eyes twinkled softly. "It has healed of its own accord, Minerva. I think I shall consider it a souvenir from the war." "It ... doesn't look so bad really ... I suppose it looks pretty…well adorable." she said hesitantly, surprised that she actually liked it though she would have preferred it did not happen. "But weren't there any Mediwitchs or wizards over there?" she questioned. "Precious few, Minerva, and none who could waste the time to treat such trifles as this. And I trust you understand the difficulty involved in doing myself." he said. "Quite." she nodded. Most witches and wizards would balk at the idea of trying to heal their own broken nose. The aim required was a bit too precarious to attempt cross-eyed. "My arm is another matter. I intend to have it look at." said Dumbledore. "May I walk with you to the hospital wing then?" questioned Minerva. "I imagine that you were on your way to have breakfast." "Yes, but it can certainly wait." "Thank you, tabby. You are always a great comfort to me." he said with a smile.
"Rubbish." she muttered, taking him by his uninjured arm and leading him out of the staff room. "Now, are you going to tell me how you wound up in this sorry state or must I guess?" she questioned. "It was a particularly violent disarming charm cast by an overconfident Dark Wizard during yet another ambush. I dare say that he planned to have some fun using one or two of the Unforgivable, but Thibault caught him from behind rather nicely with a petrifying spell." explained Dumbledore as they walked. Minerva shuddered involuntarily at the thought and at her mentor's easy-going, nonchalant description of the incident. Albus squeezed her hand, adding, "It wasn't so bad, Minerva." "But it could have been." "Well, you won't have to worry about me until summer now." "So you will be abiding by Headmaster Dippet's decision then?" she questioned. "I have a responsibility to my students, about that there can be no mistake. I do not think the headmaster would hesitate to let me go, future here or not. He has the authority and the will to use it. For now, that is enough to keep me here and out of trouble, though there may come a time. ..." "Yes?" "I have said too much perhaps on this matter." he said. "If they start an open war, you will go?" Minerva questioned quietly. "Thibault will owl me when that happens, and, yes, I shall probably answer the summons." he nodded. Minerva did not say anything but merely tightened her grip upon his uninjured arm and said nothing. There was nothing to say in the matter. Only time could tell how it would be resolved.
They received their examination timetables and details of the procedure for OWLs during their next Charms lesson. "As you can see," Professor Filtwick told the class as they copied down the dates and times of their exams from the blackboard, "your OWLs are spread over two successive weeks. You will sit the theory papers in the mornings and the practice in the afternoons. Your practical Astronomy examination will, of course, take place at night." He squeaked and then continued "Now, I must warn you that the most stringent anti-cheating charms have been applied to your examination papers. Auto-Answer Quills are banned from the examination hall, as are Remembralls, Detachable Cribbing Cuffs and Self-Correcting Ink. Every year, I am afraid to say, seems to harbor at least one student who thinks that he or she can get around the Wizarding Examinations Authority's rules- however, that is no reason not to do your very best. You have your own futures to think about." "Please, Professor," said Poppy, her hand in the air, "When will we find out our results?" "An owl will be sent to you sometime in July" said Professor Filtwick. "Excellent," said Dean Thomas in an audible whisper, "so we don't have to worry about it till the holidays."
Their first examination, Theory of Charms, was scheduled for Monday morning. Ro was reading two years' worth of Charms notes with her fingers in her ears, her lips moving soundlessly; Jeff was lying flat on his back on the floor, reciting the definition of a Substantive Charm while Terry checked it against The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5; and Sally and Poppy, who were practicing basic Locomotion Charms, were making their pencil-cases race each other around the edge of the table. Dinner was a subdued affair that night. Minerva and her friends did not talk much, but ate with gusto, having studied hard all day. "Oh, my goodness," Ro said suddenly, staring into the Entrance Hall. "Is that them? Is that the examiners?" The rest of them whipped around on their bench. Through the doors to the Great Hall they could see Dippet standing with a small group of ancient-looking witches and wizards.
It was an uncomfortable sort of an evening. Everyone was trying to do some last-minute revising but nobody seemed to be getting very far. Minerva went to bed early but then lay awake for what felt like hours. She knew she was not the only one lying awake, but none of the others in the dormitory spoke and finally, one by one, they fell asleep. None of the fifth-years talked very much at breakfast next day, either: Ro was practicing incantations under her breath while the salt cellar in front of her twitched; Sally was rereading Achievements in Charming so fast that her eyes appeared blurred. Once breakfast was over, the fifth- and seventh-years milled around in the Entrance Hall while the other students went off to lessons; then, at half past nine, they were called forwards class by class to re-enter the Great Hall, which had been rearranged; the four house tables had been removed and replaced instead with many tables for one, all facing the staff-table end of the Hall where Professor Dippet stood facing them. When they were all seated and quiet, he said, "You may begin," and turned over an
enormous hour-glass on the desk beside him, on which there were also spare quills, ink bottles and rolls of parchment.
Minerva turned over her paper and started to write. When it was over all of her friends agreed that it had not been too bad after all. The fifth-years ate lunch with the rest of the school (the four house tables had reappeared for the lunch hour), then they trooped off into the small chamber beside the Great Hall, where they were to wait until called for their practical examination. As small groups of students were called forwards in alphabetical order, those left behind muttered incantations and practiced wand movements, occasionally poking each other in the back or eye by mistake. Sally's name was called. Trembling, she left the chamber with Anthony Goldstein, Gregory Goyle and Daphne Greengrass. Students who had already been tested did not return afterwards, so Minerva, Poppy and Ro had no idea how Sally had done. "She'll be fine, remember she got a great percentage every one of our Charms tests?" said Minerva to Ro and Poppy who looked worried. Ten minutes later, Professor Flitwick called, "Parkinson, Pansy - Patil, Padma - Patil, Parvati - McGonagall, Minerva." "Good luck," said Ro quietly. Minerva walked into the Great Hall.
"Professor Tofty is free, McGonagall," squeaked Professor Flitwick, who was standing just inside the door. He pointed Minerva towards what looked like the very oldest and baldest examiner who was sitting behind a small table in a far corner, a short distance from Professor Marchbanks, who was halfway through testing another boy. "McGonagall is it?" said Professor Tofty, consulting his notes and peering over his pince-nez at Minerva as she approached."Professor Tofty smiled at her encouragingly. That's it," he said in his quivery old voice, "no need to be nervous. Now, if I could ask you to take this egg cup and make it do some cartwheels for me." The exam went quite well. There was no time to relax that night; they went straight to the common room after dinner and submerged themselves in revision for Transfiguration next day. Minerva was the star performer that day and ran straight to Dumbledore's office to tell him about her exam once it was over.
They had their Herbology exam on Wednesday (other than a small bite from a Fanged Geranium, Minerva felt she had done reasonably well); and then, on Thursday, Defense against the Dark Arts. Minerva did her theory pretty well and had no problem with any of the written questions and during the practical examination, performed all the counter-jinxes and defensive spells perfectly. "Oh, bravo!" cried Professor Tofty, who was examining Minerva again, when Minerva demonstrated a perfect Boggart banishing spell. Soon their exams were over and it was almost time for the holidays.
Albus had started to vanish yet again now that the classes were over. The day before they were to leave for their holidays, Albus returned to the castle looking very weary and ready to drop. Minerva had been in the library reading when she heard someone move behind her. It was late into the night and as exams were over rarely anyone came to the library at these hours so she turned at once. "Oh, it's you Albus, by the Gods you look like a ghost!" Minerva exclaimed. Albus was looking haggard, his hair and beard bristled and his eyes weary. "Whatever are you doing here Albus; you should be in bed by the look of you." She could not help scolding him, he looked so frail. "Ah, I was looking for you tabby, if you will accompany me to my rooms." He tried to smile at her not succeeding entirely.
When they reached his rooms, Albus flopped down unceremoniously into his couch. Minerva looked at him wearily, he had been working too much, the burden of the whole world on one man's shoulders seemed very unfair. Shaking her head, she called wispy not knowing whether she would answer but when she did, Minerva ordered a very large set of foods for Albus not even caring to ask for his permission. When wispy popped away she turned to Albus, "You should go and wash up, I'll set up your food." "Of course mother McGonagall" Albus chuckled at her expression but went before she could retort. After he had been washed and fed properly, Minerva sat down in her usual chair and looked up at Albus expectantly. "I have received a formal warning tabby, from the minister of magic himself." Minerva's jaw dropped as she stared at him. "We have a new defense against dark arts teacher for next term and I have been warned from helping the muggles again" Albus said the words as though trying to get them out of his system which was probably why he had gone seeking her.
"What?" Minerva exclaimed in horror, the seriousness of the situation sinking into her. "Is the minister a fool? Why can't he see what is just in front of his nose? And why is he stopping you anyways? What are you supposed to be doing, gearing up to attack him?" she said sarcastically not even dreaming of the response she got. Albus looked at her sheepishly, smiling at her assessment. Minerva glared at him at first taking his grin to be a joke but slowly it sank in, "No, you can't be serious!" "Ah, but I am my dear tabby, I have been accused of that very crime, trying to rebel against the ministry." He was still smiling but Minerva could hardly keep from shouting, "What is so funny in the situation Albus? You know as well as I do that the muggles will be dead before tomorrow if you stop helping them, and who in their senses can accuse you of forming an army?" "Exactly my dear, the minister is not in his senses. He is scared of the war, of Grindelwald. Last time he was active and trying to gain power, he killed people like it were entertainment. The minister is scared it might happen again and not ready to accept it." Albus was looking worn again "I can't stop helping the muggles, I don't care what they do to me but I am worried about my students." "And we are worried about you Albus. Well, you should sleep now you know," said Minerva as she saw Albus yawn and the dark circles about his eyes. Albus smiled at her "Thank you again tabby for listening to my blabbering, I feel much better now that I have poured my woes to an acceptable ear" he said his eyes twinkling. "Good night Albus" Minerva called as she made her way out of his office back to her dormitories.
Leaving her school that year seemed a very tough task. She could not stop worrying and to her amazement her friends were as worried as her. as the train left the station at Hogsmeade, the four girls and two boys leaned out of the train staring at their school wondering how it would be on their return.