More updates coming now I've managed to solve a timeline disaster, where Minerva managed to stop aging for two years whilst the rest of the world carried on around her!

Thank you so much to all who have reviewed – its great to get so much generousfeedback.

Disclaimer from the beginning still applies – the characters, settings etc are not mine.

Now, on with the tale…

It was Minerva's sixth year and it was proceeding somewhat similarly to her fifth. She was partially liked by the Gryffindors but partially distrusted because of the prophecy. It was always there, hanging over her head, and keeping her from ever truly being happy.

It had changed her parents though. Gone were the criticisms and the curses, her father was sure she would become a hero to the darkest wizards and witches. She would destroy Dumbledore from within his own house. That was why she had been sorted into Gryffindor, he was sure of it, it was her destiny.

Minerva entered Dumbledore's office confidently, and smiled at him warmly.

"Ah, Minerva, is it time for our chess already?"

"I can wait if you'd rather, sir."

"No, that's fine. Would you mind setting up the board and hot chocolate while I finish this?"

"Of course not," she smiled eagerly as she turned to do as he requested. They only met to play chess once a week now that Minerva had settled into Gryffindor. Still, she enjoyed their games and being able to talk with her head of house and had never missed one.

"You saw your parents at the weekend, didn't you?" inquired Dumbledore, now clearing his desk with a flick of his wand in an attempt to find the pot of sherbet lemons underneath.

"Yes."

"How are they?"

"They're fine."

"How are they towards you?"

"Fine, although part of me wishes they weren't."

"Why?" he asked gently, leaving the desk and heading for the chess board.

"They really believe the prophecy. They think I'm in Gryffindor because I'm destined to kill you and this is how – by getting your trust first and…"

"And then poisoning my hot chocolate," he smiled reaching out for the mug and taking a sip, "I think I'd drink it even if it was poisoned. I couldn't waste it."

She smiled, "Thank you."

"What for?"

"Trusting me."

"You don't need to thank me," he told her, "You deserve to be trusted."

He nodded his head towards the desk, "Help yourself to sherbet lemons by the way."

She smiled and moved over to take one, noticing the picture lying on his desk as she did so – Grindelwald.

She felt a sudden cold come over her, as she fixed her eyes on the picture and remembered something, seeing him before – she gave a cry and felt her body begin to tremble.

"Minerva?" Dumbledore was beside her in an instant.

His gaze followed hers, focussed on Grindelwald's picture. He reached out for a pile of transfiguration papers and placed them on top of the picture.

"Minerva."

She stared numbly at the papers now covering the picture.

"Minerva, please don't concern yourself with this. I - you - you're too young to be worrying about Grindelwald."

Finally she looked up, her eyes meeting his.

"I've seen him before. Really seen him I mean, not just a picture."

Dumbledore regarded her silently for a moment, "Where?"

She took a deep breath.

"I can't say," she whispered, "Before I – I remember now – I don't understand why I forgot. I tried to tell you but…"

"I won't let anything happen to you," he reassured her.

"I know."

Yet still she paused, unwilling to truly take this step, knowing all too clearly what the result would be. She did not like her family; even with the improvement in their treatment of her, since she knew their motives, however, she could not help but think they were still her family.

"Minerva?"

Strangely, the sorting hat came into her mind, its parting advice and one line in particular, repeating itself in her mind, 'If you try to choose what is right, you will be fine.'

"He was with my parents," she said the words tripping over each other as she spoke as quickly as she could, "He had a meeting at my house, summer of my first year, they're working with him…"

Minerva swayed and her body keeled over. Dumbledore caught her as she fell and carried her carefully to the hospital wing.

"What happened?" demanded the nurse as he entered.

"She has been cursed," Dumbledore replied softly, "Her father will be here soon, no doubt, to check whom she has told."

"What?"

Dumbledore looked up.

"The curse," he replied softly, "It affects her but it also tells him that she has spoken of things he did not wish her to mention."

"What things?"

"Grindelwald," Dumbledore replied as he left, in search of Professor Probantia and a remedy for the curse.

Later, stepping on to the staircase which led to the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore was not surprised to see Minerva's father hurrying in the opposite direction.

"Good evening, Mr McGonagall," he said curtly.

"Dumbledore," McGonagall hissed his name, "I hear my daughter has been taken ill."

"Indeed," Dumbledore replied, "But we are sure she will make a swift recovery."

McGonagall nodded, "I would like to see her."

"I'm afraid that's not possible, as I'm sure Headmaster Dippet informed you."

"He did." McGonagall leaned closer to Dumbledore, "But she is my daughter, you cannot keep me from speaking with her."

Dumbledore's voice remained polite and low, but hardened considerably, "I will not let you anyway near her, Mr McGonagall. I suggest you go home and consider your defence."

"Defence?"

"I think you know very well what I mean."

McGonagall's hand went to his wand.

Dumbledore mirrored his movement.

"Consider your actions carefully, Mr McGonagall."

McGonagall glared at Dumbledore, but the other held his gaze calmly but firmly.

McGonagall nodded, "Very well, Albus, but I hope you will keep me informed of my daughter's welfare, she is very important to me."

"As a person or a weapon," Dumbledore growled; surprised at the sudden fury he felt inside him, normally he could control his emotions, words and actions, even in the face of evil.

McGonagall scowled and stalked away without so much as a backward glance.

Dumbledore continued up to Dippet's office, to report on Minerva's condition and meet with Ministry officials interested in McGonagall's involvement with Grindelwald.

Minerva sat up sharply in the hospital wing. Professor Probantia's remedy had been very effective and now she was awake she found herself unable to rest. Her mind played over events again and again. She knew exactly what she had done in telling Dumbledore, knew that he would tell the ministry, knew that everything would be known and her life would change forever, although for better or worse she could not be sure.

She wanted to work and quickly came to an agreement with the nurse, promising to remain in the hospital wing and rest, without complaint, if she was allowed to read her transfiguration textbook.

Thus, on leaving Dippet's office and heading for the hospital wing to check on her, Dumbledore found Minerva curled up and earnestly pursuing the final topic in her NEWT transfiguration book.

"Minerva, you should be resting," he scolded her gently.

She looked up.

"I wanted to do something," she explained, "To work. I – I needed to."

"You don't need to work, Minerva," he answered gently, "If any student could take a few days off it is you, you're so far ahead you're already as far through the transfiguration course as most of the seventh years."

"I don't mean 'need' in that way," she answered.

Dumbledore didn't respond, giving her the opportunity to continue.

"I know – I know what I've done," she took a deep breath, "I mean – telling you – I know things are going to change and – and I'm alone, or I will be – and I'll be seventeen soon anyway and of age – it's just… I'm scared I suppose. I mean – I know this is right and I never really liked – I…"

"Minerva?" he encouraged her gently.

"I suppose its, well; I don't know what's going to happen now. As bad as some things have been in the past, I've coped and I've still had a home, however awful it was at times, and I've always known the way things are. Now, everything is going to change – my whole life. I know its right, but I still feel guilty somehow, my own family you see and, well, I don't know what's going to happen now – and I hate that, not knowing things I mean. But transfiguration," she gestured to the book, almost affectionately, "Transfiguration I can rely upon. I can tell whether I'm doing something right and I can understand it, and know what will happen and why and I – I can control it." She sighed deeply, "That sounds really stupid doesn't it?"

"No," Dumbledore took her hand, "I think I can understand that. You like to understand things, I like to understand people – we're very similar really."

She nodded her head, but kept her gaze focussed on the book, avoiding his eyes.

"Actually," Dumbledore said, "While we're on the subject of transfiguration, there's something I've been meaning to ask you."

She looked up at that, her eyes filled with interest.

"You see, I'm soon going to be an awkward position, with you knowing everything in the NEWT course and me completely unable to find anything to teach you for the next year and a half. So, I think the best solution would be for you to take your transfiguration NEWT this year, after all you're better prepared than a large number of my seventh years."

Minerva smiled, "Really?" she asked, her eyes filled with enthusiasm.

"Really. But only if you want to of course?"

"Yes, I do, I'd love to. Thank you."

"Okay, well – don't study too hard will you?"

She just smiled at him as he left and quickly returned her attention to the book in front of her.

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