A/N: It's mid-July, so perfect time for another Christmas chapter, don't you think? It's raining here anyway, so enjoy, and thank you all for your amazing reviews.

32. Shine a Light

"Okay, everyone, you know the drill. The Christmas holidays are almost upon us and as always we need to decide who's going to stay in the castle with the remaining students."

The staffroom was packed with every member of the Hogwarts staff, but somehow they all managed to avoid Headmaster Dippet's questioning gaze.

Minerva was the only exception. "I'll be staying," she said right away.

"Excellent!" Dippet said, looking at her appreciatively. His approval had nothing to do with Minerva's decision. She had planned to stay even before she had realised that this was a hotly debated issue among her colleagues. Most of them wanted to leave and celebrate Christmas with loved ones.

"And Albus is staying, of course, so with one male and one female teacher, we could make do, though I really don't think it's fair to put this solely on the Transfiguration Department every year…" the headmaster continued and coaxed one or two more volunteers into coming forward.

At the end of the meeting Albus leaned a little closer to Minerva to say, "You don't have to feel obligated to stay for Christmas simply because you're our newest member of staff."

"I don't," she assured him. "I want to stay."

"Wouldn't your family like to see you?" As his Head of House Albus knew that Malcolm was going home for the holidays. And Minerva had mentioned to him that Junior was also returning from his travels. Naturally, her parents had asked for her to come as well.

"Of course, but I… I can't go home," she said quietly, leaving the most important part unsaid. She couldn't go home and risk seeing Dougal and his new wife, who were sure to come to the Christmas service. It was silly and cowardly, but she just… couldn't.

Albus' curious gaze softened when he understood what she was saying, or not saying. "In that case, I'll tell the kitchens to plan for extra servings of pudding."

Minerva laughed. "You're enabling me."

"As long as it's your pudding-induced happiness I'm enabling, I'm perfectly fine with that," Albus said and squeezed her shoulder as he got up to leave.

The last two weeks before Christmas passed quickly and soon it was time for the students to get back aboard the Hogwarts Express.

"Can I wish you a Merry Christmas or is it too embarrassing if you're seen hugging a teacher?" Minerva asked her brother while he was waiting in the Entrance Hall for one of the school carriages.

"That's okay," Malcolm told her. "Most of the other students seem to think that you're not completely terrible."

"Ah," made Minerva. "How charming."

"That's actually a compliment," Pomona Sprout informed her. She and Malcolm had become fast friends, being in the same year, which Minerva approved of wholeheartedly. "I'd love to have you. It's so annoying that I can't." She gave Malcolm the side-eye. The Hufflepuff and Gryffindor fifth-years shared a Transfiguration class, so Minerva wasn't teaching Pomona any more than her brother.

He rolled his eyes at her. "It's not my fault that she's my sister. Nothing I can do about that."

"You could fail your Transfiguration O.W.L.s so that next year you're not in my class anymore," Pomona suggested.

"Definitely not!" Minerva interjected. "McGonagalls don't fail Transfiguration." It was too embarrassing to even think about. The other teachers would never let her live that down.

"I know, I know. Which is why I was planning to pick your brain during the holidays, but since you're not coming…" Malcolm's voice trailed off, his accusation clear.

Minerva sighed. "I'm sorry. Somebody has to stay in the castle for Christmas, you know that," she gave him the same excuse she had used on her parents. Thankfully, it was also the truth, a part of it, anyway.

"Yeah… but won't you be lonely?" Malcolm asked. He had always been more sweet-natured than Junior, and worrying about her like this was a prime example.

"I'll be fine," Minerva promised him with a smile.

"You can go check on Peppers for me," Pomona offered. "He's a great listener."

"Peppers?" Minerva's brow furrowed until she remembered. "Oh, your Devil's Snare. Sure… I'll do that." She really hoped it wouldn't come to that.

"Train leaves in fifteen!" Pringle yelled. "Get off your arses and get moving!"

Annoyed, Minerva turned her head towards the caretaker. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, Apollyon. They are coming."

Pringle glared at her. He hated that she was now a teacher and that both the headmaster and the deputy headmaster held her in higher regard than him. They had agreed on an unspoken truce, but it was rather fragile.

Malcolm grinned at her. "That was brilliant!"

"No, it wasn't," Minerva said quickly. She didn't want to set the wrong kind of example for him. "It was disrespectful."

"He had it coming," Pomona pointed out.

Minerva's lips twitched. "I know. Now have a good Christmas, you two."

She hugged them both and saw them off.

Peace and quiet settled over the castle and Minerva's thoughts turned inwards. But this time she had come prepared. At least for the beginning of the holidays she had a large stack of student essays waiting to be read.

She was sitting at her desk in her office when Albus came looking for her. He was wearing a travelling cloak.

"Where are you going?" Minerva asked, surprised.

"Emergency session of the Wizengamot. I have to leave for London right away," Albus told her.

"On Christmas Eve?"

"What can I say? Duty calls." He didn't look terribly upset. This was probably his version of having essays to mark in order to keep busy. "I trust you'll be okay here?"

Minerva nodded. "Don't worry about Hogwarts. Go make the world a better place."

Albus arched an eyebrow. "That is a tall order."

"You're a tall man," Minerva said simply.

"Standing on very broad shoulders," he replied.

She gave him a smile and returned to her essays, but Albus paused with his hand on her office door. "I almost forgot. Could I trouble you to look in on Fawkes tonight to make sure he's eaten? He's usually very self-sufficient, but the poor chap isn't feeling very well right now."

"Oh no, I'm sorry to hear that," Minerva said, concern for the magnificent phoenix muting her voice. "Of course, I'll check on him. Whatever you need."

"Thank you," Albus said sincerely. "I'll see you… well, I don't actually know when I'll be back, but soon, I hope."

"I'll save you some pudding."

Albus laughed and closed her office door behind him.

Minerva busied herself with her essays, then spent a very quiet Christmas dinner in the Great Hall with Rolanda Hooch and Gareth Hawkyard as her only other colleagues at the High Table. They argued about the pros and cons of each of their favourite Quidditch teams for most of the time. Of course, Minerva won that argument easily since the Montrose Magpies were the most successful team in League history.

After dinner she made her way to Albus' office. He had left the door unlocked, but once Minerva stood in front of the entrance to his private rooms, she realised that he had not given her his password.

"Er… phoenix? Fawkes? Animagus? Gryffindor? Toffee eclairs? Christmas pudding? Oh, come on!" Minerva huffed. At this rate she would never get to Fawkes. It could literally be anything. Something silly like his favourite flavour of Bertie Bott's Beans or something entirely random like Polyjuice Potion. Minerva had no idea how serious Albus was about his passwords, particularly this one that unlocked his inner sanctum.

A chilling thought rose up unbidden within her. "Ariana," she whispered.

The door opened with a sharp click that made her wince.

"Oh, Albus," she sighed.

Leave it to him to find a way to torture himself at least once a day.

Shaking her head, Minerva entered and stopped dead the next second. She wasn't surprised that Albus' rooms were larger than hers and that he had an actual private sitting room. There was a sofa and a dining table, though both were littered with documents of some kind. What made Minerva's mouth fall open was the fact that the rest of the room and every inch of the walls, all the way up to the ceiling, was covered in books. So many books.

It was beyond impressive. Also, a little messy. Somebody really needed to clean up in here. Or at least do some dusting. One should think that the greatest wizard of all time would know a charm for that.

A gagging noise to her left broke the spell Minerva had momentarily fallen under and she turned her attention away from the books.

"Oh God, Fawkes!" she breathed, her mouth opening further in shock.

She hadn't seen the phoenix in years, but she remembered him as if it was yesterday – that beautiful crimson and gold plumage, those beady, black eyes and the soft but highly intelligent look in them. He was the most glorious creature Minerva had ever seen.

At least, he had been. The bird she found sitting on a golden perch in the corner looked like a half-plucked turkey. Most of his feathers had fallen out and the expression in his doleful eyes was pure misery.

"Oh, you poor thing," Minerva cooed, crouching in front of the phoenix, who was clearly dying.

Despite his agony, he seemed to recognise her because the sound he made now was a little less of a gag and more of a chirp. Still a far cry from the powerful melody Minerva knew him to be capable of, and it made her incredibly sad.

She tried her best to pull herself together. "You have to eat something. It'll make you feel better." The food Albus had laid out for him was still untouched, so Minerva scooped some of it into her hand and held it up to Fawkes' beak.

He just looked at her as if to say that she was wasting her time.

"Okay, here's the deal. I don't have any other plans tonight, so you and I are going to stay right here until you eat something," she told him.

Fawkes stared blankly at her and Minerva stared back determinedly.

"Also, I'm warning you. I'm a cat, which means I always win in a staring contest."

The phoenix blinked and finally allowed her to feed him.

Minerva felt victorious for as long as it took for Fawkes to start gagging and to spit it all out again. Worried, Minerva straightened up. She had no idea what to do now. Force-feeding him was clearly not the answer. Why hadn't Albus left her with more instructions? She doubted that Rolanda or Gareth had any more experience with phoenixes and Silvanus was never in the castle when she needed him to be.

Before Minerva could decide what to do, she caught a whiff of smoke. Fawkes let out another pitiful shriek, almost like a goodbye, and then he burst into flames. Minerva yelped, but she didn't move, mesmerised by the terrible beauty of what was happening right in front of her.

The once so majestic bird became truly radiant, burning so bright Minerva almost couldn't bear to watch, and then there was nothing left but ashes. With her heart hammering in her chest, Minerva crouched down again, staring at the pile of ashes. Even though she knew this was how it was supposed to be, her eyes were brimming with tears. Were phoenixes truly immortal? Couldn't they eventually get tired of starting over and over again? Fawkes had looked very, very tired. What if he was just gone?

"Please, you have to come back," she whispered. "You're not done yet. He still needs you."

The pile of ashes began to quiver and a tiny, wrinkled newborn bird poked its head out.

"Hello there," Minerva smiled through her tears. "Feel better now?"

Baby Fawkes croaked, which sounded like "yes," but then he began to tremble. Truth be told, he looked almost as miserable as before. He barely had any feathers yet. Albus had kept a fire going in the fireplace, but in winter the castle was always a little draughty regardless. Poor Fawkes was probably freezing.

That was something Minerva knew how to remedy at least. She gently took baby Fawkes in the palm of her right hand and then had a look around. There was no room for her to sit without moving stuff. The sofa was laden with stacks of books, so were the chairs, and the table was covered in articles about the recent death of Hepzibah Smith. Clearly, Albus hadn't expected guests.

Well, she wasn't a guest. Not technically. With a huff, Minerva pushed open the door to the bedroom and crawled on top of the bed. Holding Fawkes close to her chest, she conjured a blanket to cover them both. Eventually, the baby phoenix stopped quivering and he seemed to grow warmer in her hand. Before long, he was fast asleep. Dying and being reborn had to be exhausting. Sure that Fawkes would be okay now, Minerva relaxed. The comfortable warmth and growing darkness in the room lulled her to sleep as well.

When she woke up again, she looked right into Albus' face. He was perched on the edge of the bed next to her, still wearing this travelling cloak. The room was dark so it had to be the middle of the night.

"I didn't mean to wake you," he said softly. "But Fawkes, he can get used to these sleeping arrangements, so I was going to take him back to his perch."

"Oh," breathed Minerva, waking up properly and sitting up. She was glad that it was too dark in the room for Albus to see the blush to her cheeks. When she had come to feed his bird tonight, she hadn't planned on ending up in his bed. "I'm so sorry, it's just… he burned right in front of me, Albus!"

"I know. I didn't meant to leave you with him on a Burning Day. But it's hard to predict them."

Minerva looked at the tiny bird she was still holding to her chest. He snored peacefully. "It's fine. But… don't you ever worry that one day he won't be reborn, that he simply won't come back?"

"Oh no, I will leave him a long time before he will leave this world, of that much I am certain," Albus replied.

That thought seemed to be a lot more comforting to him than it was to her. "He looked cold afterwards, so I was trying to keep him warm…" Minerva faltered when she saw the amusement on Albus' face. "What?"

"Nothing. That was very sweet of you. But Fawkes is a phoenix."

"I know that!" Minerva snapped.

"Of course, but you see, he's made of fire, which means he literally can't get cold," Albus explained patiently.

That brought Minerva up short. "Oh."

Albus just smiled at her. "But he does like to cuddle when he's in this stage. And really, who could fault him?"

The heat rushing to her face intensified and Minerva quickly handed the baby phoenix over to Albus and slid off the bed. "I wouldn't have taken him to bed with me if there had been anywhere else to sit," she defended herself while they both walked back into the sitting room.

"I apologise. I didn't expect to have company when I was forced to leave so quickly earlier today." Albus gently set Fawkes down on his perch.

"How did the session go?" Minerva asked to change the subject.

"Productive, I think," Albus replied. "How were things here?"

"Calm," she said. "Gareth mentioned at dinner that you have volunteered for Christmas duty every year since he started working at Hogwarts."

Albus shrugged. "I don't have any family to visit, so it seems only logical."

"Neither have I at the moment, so I hope you'll be expecting my company tomorrow then," Minerva said.

Surprised, Albus looked up from his sleeping phoenix.

"For our annual Christmas chess game," Minerva clarified.

The confusion on Albus' face cleared and was replaced with a smile. "Of course. I'm looking forward to it already."

"Good, because you owe me."

"Oh, Fawkes and I will forever be grateful to you for taking such good care of him," he assured her.

"Not because of that," Minerva said, shaking her head. "That was… of course I took care of him! I meant because you've been holding out on me. You never told me you had a private library."

Albus chuckled. "I believe I did tell you that I had a thing with books… But either way, you're welcome to it any time."

Minerva's eyes travelled over the rows and rows of books. "Oh, you'll regret saying that."

"No, I really don't think I will," Albus said quietly.

That didn't require a response, so Minerva headed for the door, but stopped. "Oh, and Albus?"

"Yes?"

"You should change your password."

There was a long pause. "Why would I do that after I just told you that you're welcome to come in here and borrow a book whenever you want?" he asked eventually.

"Because there's a difference between honouring her memory and holding on to a ghost," Minerva said gently.

Now she cursed the darkness in the room because it made it impossible to read the look on Albus' face. His voice sounded weary, but then it was very late. "You're right, of course. If you ever find out how to let go, do let me know."

Minerva cringed. He had her there. After all, she was hiding here at Hogwarts from her own ghost. "That might take a while."

"I'm not going anywhere," he said simply. "Good night, Minerva."

"Good night, Albus, and… Merry Christmas."

"Ah yes, I suppose it's Christmas morning already. Hold on then." He rummaged in a drawer and handed her a present.

She opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a hand. "It's not much."

With a sigh, Minerva unwrapped it. "A candle?"

"I may have put a little spell on it," Albus admitted. "Just light it and think of home."

Minerva decided not to question those instructions. She silently made her way back to her rooms and crawled into her own bed. After a minute or two she got back up, grabbed the candle she had left on her desk and put it on her bedside table to light it.

When she closed her eyes again, she could suddenly smell the incense at her father's Christmas service, the mouth-watering flavour of her mother's famous Christmas cookies baking in the oven, and the heavy fragrance of the freshly cut fir tree they would have spent hours arguing about before picking it. There were the candy canes Junior and Malcolm always stole from that tree to eat before dinner and the only just laundered matching dressing gowns they still had to wear as a family…

Smiling from ear to ear, Minerva drifted off to sleep, not noticing that there was another scent underneath it all. Something like lemongrass, summer rain and phoenix feather.