"Did they arrest him?" demanded Ron excitedly.

"No," McGonagall sighed, "My letter never arrived."

"But surely you sent another or told them or something…" said Harry desperately.

McGonagall looked down at the floor beneath her feet and shook her head.

"Why not?"

"Her father obliviated her memory," Lupin said softly. "She didn't remember the incident until much later, when the sight of Grindelwald triggered the memory. Isn't that right, Minerva?"

The witch nodded softly.

"Let's just continue shall we."

There were nods and murmurs of assent from around the room. Seeing this, she continued with the story.

"My second year was much improved compared to my first, mostly, it has to be said, due to Quidditch."

"Quidditch?" exclaimed Ron eagerly, "Did you play?"

"Yes I did, Mr Weasley," she answered with a smile and prodded the pensieve once more.

Minerva flooed directly into Dumbledore's office and glanced around the room. Seeing he was not there she placed the chess set on a table and conjured up two mugs of hot chocolate, before taking a seat to wait for his return.

Dumbledore smiled as he entered his office a short while later to find his favourite student curled up in one of his armchairs with a mug of hot chocolate in one hand, a transfiguration book in the other, and a chess set laid out in front of her.

"Good evening, Minerva."

"Good evening, Professor," she smiled.

He took his seat and they began the game, talking throughout.

"How was your holiday, Minerva?"

"It wasn't very enjoyable actually, sir."

"Your family were not pleased with you being sorted into Gryffindor?"

"No," Minerva looked away from Dumbledore's concerned gaze.

"May I ask how they expressed their displeasure?"

Minerva struggled, uncertain of how much to say.

"They were not very welcoming," she answered, "And their attitude to me made their feelings clear."

Dumbledore nodded, apparently satisfied, however he said, "If ever there was anything concerning or upsetting you, Minerva, I hope you know you can always speak to me."

She nodded, "Yes. Thank you, Professor."

With his next move he changed the subject.

"I saw you flying yesterday."

She smiled slightly, flying always made her feel better.

"You are very good," he told her warmly.

"Thank you," she answered.

"You should play Quidditch."

Recalling the way he had volunteered himself as a chess opponent the previous year, she looked up with a mischievous smile and said, "Are you volunteering to play with me, Professor? Becoming bored of chess?"

He laughed, "No, Minerva, chess is the best game for me; I'm far too old to be playing Quidditch. But you could always play with the Gryffindor team, they are looking for a chaser and a beater this year."

"I would never get on the team."

"You're very good, Minerva; easily better than anyone else who will try out."

"My skill is irrelevant, Professor, the fact is they hate me. They would never want me on their team."

"Ahh," said Dumbledore thoughtfully, "You underestimate the Quidditch drive, my dear, they would do almost anything for victory."

In a way Minerva was relieved that his argument was a logical one and not an attempt to deny her assertion that she was hated by her fellow Gryffindors. She was pleased that he did not try to comfort her with lies; perhaps he understood that Minerva McGonagall would always rather have the truth, whatever.

"When are they holding tryouts?" she asked, trying to sound casual, not too eager.

"Wednesday," he told her calmly, "I'll tell Wilkins to expect you."