A/N: Something wicked this way comes…

42. Till Death Do Us Part

"Have you taken a closer look at that monstrosity of a willow lately?" Minerva asked while she waited for Albus to sign off on some timetable changes. "It has become positively murderous. It almost poked my eye out the other day!"

The scandalised tone of her voice amused Albus, though this wasn't a laughing matter by any stretch of the imagination. "The willow can't differentiate between unauthorised visitors and the deputy headmistress. It is, after all, only a tree, but one that is clearly proving effective. You know that a less aggressive tree wouldn't help us to protect the hidden entrance."

"Yes, I know, but I'm not sure how much good it does us if the students get clobbered to death by a homicidal tree, just so they never get to meet the murderous werewolf," Minerva pointed out.

"I think the students are smarter than you give them credit for."

Minerva sank into a chair, heaving a sigh. "Not all of them. Certainly not Black and Potter."

Albus smiled at her. "I heard you put them in detention. Their first week here – is that a new record?"

"Well, it's not one to be proud of, is it?" Minerva snapped. "I knew Black would be trouble. A Black in Gryffindor – whoever heard of such a thing?"

"You wouldn't be biased against him, now would you?" Albus asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Biased against his charming family of lunatics and supremacists?" Minerva snorted. "Why, I wouldn't dream of it."

"Sirius doesn't seem like a lunatic or a supremacist to me," Albus said quietly.

"Oh, but he's arrogant, and he's only eleven years old!" Minerva complained. "And he's daring Potter to mimic his behaviour. But the worst part is… they have the talent to match!" She reached into the pocket of her robes and produced a couple of silver matches, well on their way to becoming needles. "They produced these yesterday. Thankfully, one of the girls was even better, so that's something."

"Sounds as though you have a very talented class on your hands." Albus couldn't ban the envy from his voice completely.

Sometimes being out of the classroom was tough. He missed the interaction with the students and the chance to discover the true talents among them. He now let Minerva fill him in on everything and it made him feel as though he was still connected to the students in some way. But as headmaster he was expected to stay away. Up here in his ivory tower, as Minerva had once called it.

He certainly did important work. But in times like these, nothing was more important than to protect and shape the generation after them. Who were they fighting for if not for them?

Minerva acknowledged his feelings with a sympathetic smile. Then she continued, "Talented they may be, but respectful I think not. The best-behaved student in that class is a werewolf for heaven's sake!" She shook her head. "That poor boy. He seems so gentle and very bright, too."

"Good, it wouldn't hurt if he did well in school. The governors are still not happy with me for letting him come," Albus said.

"Poppy and I support your decision one hundred percent," Minerva said, scowling, not at him but at the governors, who unfortunately couldn't see it. "We all agreed that it's a manageable risk and that he deserves a chance. Although, ironically, it might have been safer for him back at home far away from Black and Potter."

"Perhaps they can all make friends," Albus suggested. "Young Mr Lupin looks as though he could use some."

Minerva's brow furrowed. "Well, he better choose the right kind of friends."

"I think that goes for all of us right now," Albus said darkly.

"More bad news?" Minerva asked, her eyes wandering to the Muggle newspapers on his desk.

"More disappearances," Albus told her.

Minerva gritted her teeth in anger. "Why are the Muggle authorities not doing anything?"

"There's not much they can do. Most of these Muggles don't seem to have a family or even a home, so they just fall through the cracks."

"Then why attack them at all? If that is what he's doing?" Minerva wondered. "Just for sport?"

"He might get some sick sense of pleasure out of it," Albus nodded. "But I fear he has bigger plans for them than that."

"Plans? For dead Muggles? Like what?"

He dreaded saying it out loud, but not saying it would not make it any less true. "Like building an army."

Minerva paled visibly. "Are you talking about Necromancy? But you yourself said that's a branch of magic that has never worked!"

"It doesn't if one wishes to bring back a person with a mind and a soul, but if one only cares about life in its simplest, most pitiful form, it is possible," Albus was forced to admit.

"But an army? That sounds like…"

"I know what that sounds like," Albus said when Minerva's voice had trailed off weakly.

"Albus," she whispered, "is that where we are now?"

"It might be," he said with a sigh.

The only comfort he could offer her was a gentle squeeze of her hand. But he feared that wouldn't nearly be enough.

Her eyelids growing heavier by the minute, Minerva tried not to fall asleep over the essays she was marking. She could have gone to bed, but Albus was still sitting at his desk, brooding over… something. Minerva knew he wouldn't go to bed for hours. She didn't want him to be alone, so she stayed in her chair across from him, doing her best to stay awake.

A knock on the window startled her so badly that she nearly dropped her quill, but it was only an owl. It was one of the little express ones and it looked as if it had flown so fast that it was seconds away from dropping out of the sky in exhaustion. Albus accepted the letter and allowed the owl to stay and rest for a moment, though Fawkes didn't look too happy about that.

But the phoenix's feelings about sharing his perch with an owl weren't of particular importance to Albus right now. "The minister is coming," he informed Minerva, looking up from the letter with a frown.

Surprised, Minerva half rose out of her chair. "Should I leave…?"

"Stay," Albus said with a soft shake of his head. "I have a feeling whatever she's coming to say will affect all of us."

Minerva was glad that Albus wanted her to stay, but his ominous words filled her with worry.

When Eugenia Jenkins entered the headmaster's office, the look on her face immediately confirmed that this was not a visit she had ever wanted to make.

"Dumbledore. Minerva," she said with the barest of nods. "I would wish you a good evening, but it's not, so…"

"Have a seat, Minister," Albus replied, skipping the pleasantries as well.

Jenkins shook her head. "No time for that. I'm just here to… bloody hell, I don't even know. But everyone seems to think that you're our only hope, and that's all well and good, as long as you work with the Ministry and not against us."

"I can assure you I have no intention of working against you," Albus said calmly.

"But you have no intention of working with us either?" Jenkins retorted shrewdly.

"That depends entirely on what you're planning to do, Minister."

Jenkins ran a hand over her face. "I'd like to know that, too, actually. After what happened tonight…"

"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage there, Minister, since I haven't been informed about that yet," Albus told her.

"There have been… attacks," Jenkins said grimly. "All over the country. Roughly at the same time."

"Attacks on whom?" Minerva asked, though she knew the answer before Jenkins even opened her mouth.

"Muggles." The look on Jenkins' face was one of terror. "It's a bloodbath, Dumbledore! We haven't got to the bottom of it yet, but they… they left us a message… a mark… in the sky."

It wasn't as though this had come completely out of the blue. It wasn't as though Albus hadn't been reading the signs. But no one had expected this to escalate so quickly and so violently. Even if they had, that wouldn't have made this news any less horrific.

"Where?" was all Albus asked.

Jenkins did her best to shake off some of the images that clearly still haunted her. "Figures in masks were spotted down in Kent, setting buildings on fire. In Wales they must have had a pack of werewolves that went on a rampage, and then it looks like… though it can't be of course, but there's no other explanation… it certainly wasn't a tornado as they're saying on the Muggle news… it looks as if they set a bloody giant loose up here in the North."

Her eyes wide with alarm, Minerva sat up straighter in her chair. "Where exactly?" Had they come close to Hogwarts? Were the students in danger?

"Further northeast of here," Jenkins said. "It was probably easiest to hide the giant there. Left a swath of destruction around Caithness."

Minerva felt as if the minister had just pierced her heart. Albus shot her a quick look of warning, but she barely registered it. She was already out of her seat and out the door, not caring about the confused look on Minister Jenkins' face.

As soon as she was no longer on Hogwarts grounds, Minerva Disapparated with only one destination in her mind – her old childhood bedroom. It was risky and irresponsible to Apparate directly into the house, but she couldn't help herself. When she reappeared and found the manse mostly intact and still standing, except for a couple of broken windows, she almost sank to her knees in profound relief.

She flew down the stairs, but the house was empty. When Minerva burst outside, she saw why. The rest of the village hadn't been as lucky as the manse. She could see from here that the roof of the church had collapsed, and it wasn't the only building that had suffered serious damage. There was still dust in the air from all the debris. She wasn't surprised at all that there was talk of a tornado on the Muggle news because that's what it looked like.

Until Minerva lifted her eyes to the sky. There it was. A colossal skull, composed of what looked like emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. Minerva had never felt her entire body be seized with so much dread. A message, Jenkins had called it. If that's what it was, then it was as simple as it was terrible.

Death.

"Minerva!"

She whirled around when she heard her mother's voice. Isobel was running towards her and she grabbed her fiercely and pulled her into her arms.

Minerva returned the gesture. "Papa?" she barely managed to whisper, not wanting to hear the answer and yet having to ask.

"He's fine," Isobel assured her. "He's trying to find shelter for everyone and repair the church, but…" her voice trailed off, tear-stricken. "Mrs Caraidland is dead, and Angus, and the McGregors…"

"What?" Minerva's words were sharp as ice.

"The farm was razed to the ground. They didn't stand a chance. Not even the children…" Her mother's cheeks were wet with tears, but Minerva had no consolation for her.

As if in a trance she let go of her, turned around and started running, following a path her feet hadn't taken in years. One she had never thought she would ever take again. Certainly not so she could see with her own eyes a truth that was too horrendous to even comprehend.

In the ghastly green light of the obscene mark in the sky, there was no denying it. The farm was just… gone. The farmhouse, the barn, the stables, all collapsed, ripped apart, stomped into the ground, reduced to nothing but rubble. And somewhere underneath it all… Dougal, his wife, his children.

Minerva fought her way through the destruction before her as far as she could until her strength left her and she fell to her knees. A howl ripped through her as if the sound came directly from her very core. It wrestled its way out, erupted from her lips with all the horror and hurt she could no longer keep inside.

A hand came to rest on her shoulder. She knew from its weight that it wasn't her mother. She knew that touch better than any other, but in this moment it brought her no solace.

"Don't," Minerva wailed.

Albus pulled back his hand, but only to crouch in front of her, bringing his face directly into her line of sight. He opened his mouth, but she didn't want to hear it.

"Just go, Albus. Leave me," she beseeched him. Surely, there were other places where he was needed now.

His blue eyes were hard and kind at the same time. "I will not."

"Please," Minerva choked. She couldn't stand it. The love and comfort he offered.

Heaving a sigh, Albus pressed a kiss to her forehead and then, as if he was fighting against a gravitational pull, he rose slowly and turned his back on her.

He lifted his wand into the sky and a flash of brilliant white light shot out of its tip. It engulfed the vile mark and swallowed it up, leaving behind only the blackened sky that glittered with stars, almost peacefully. Then Albus directed his wand at the rubble of the farm, clearing it slowly, carefully, until the bodies emerged one after the other.

When Minerva saw Dougal, battered, bloodied and broken, all the air rushed out of her lungs, leaving her empty and lifeless. And when she saw his children, something inside of her broke.

She could have chosen him. She could have protected him. Protected his children – what would have been their children. But she had chosen a different life. A different love. A love of magic. A love of Albus Dumbledore.

And in her selfishness, all she had left for Dougal was death.

Somehow, Albus brought her home. And somehow, Minerva kept breathing, though in a world where children were murdered without a second thought by people who walked freely among them, there should have been no more air left to breathe.

But there was. And there were other children for whom she was responsible. That thought alone got her out of bed. She wasn't well enough to think clearly, though. It didn't fully register with her that Albus had laid her in his bed, not hers, so when she got up, she stumbled into his office, not hers. And he wasn't alone.

Thankfully, it was Hagrid, who he was talking to, and the caretaker didn't seem bothered by Minerva's sudden appearance. "Thanks fer askin' me ter join. I'll do whatever yeh need. I won't let yeh down," he said to Albus.

"I know you won't. Thank you, Hagrid."

The giant man gave Minerva a sympathetic smile before he turned to leave.

As soon as he was gone, Albus rose from his chair and came towards her. "Minerva…"

She held up a hand to stop him in his tracks. "What did you and Hagrid just talk about? What did you ask him to join?" she asked, forcing her voice into something that resembled her usual tone.

She couldn't let Albus see the depth of her pain or he would keep trying to comfort her. To fall apart in his arms was exactly what she wanted right now, but also exactly what she could not bear.

The look on Albus' face told her that he suspected what she was doing, but he decided to humour her. "Last night Voldemort showed his true face. He has proclaimed himself the 'Dark Lord' and he has proven that we are now at war. The Ministry will be busy cleaning up last night's attack for days, unable to do what needs to be done to prevent more attacks. We need to act swiftly, and we need to do it unimpeded by the Ministry. We need to stand together, close ranks, fight Voldemort's chaos with order," Albus said.

"So I have reached out to a few trusted individuals to join me in this fight. Fawkes has helped me to deliver the messages, but I will need to come up with better means of communication for members of this Order."

Minerva looked from Albus to the phoenix and back. She had known that Albus wouldn't let this go unanswered. The only question had been what his answer would look like. The Order of the Phoenix. It filled her with the tiniest spark of hope.

"What do you need me to do?" she asked.

Albus slowly shook his head. "You cannot join the Order," he said softly.

"What?" That little spark inside of her died instantly. "You will put your trust in Hagrid, but you won't trust me?"

"I trust you with all of my heart. Quite literally," Albus said, holding his hands out to her, but Minerva stepped out of his reach once again.

He sighed. "You shouldn't put your family at even greater risk. Your father is a Muggle, your mother and brother are married to Muggles. You're a family of 'blood traitors,' as they would call it."

"I don't care what they call it," Minerva said heatedly. "We are a family that fights."

"Then fight for Hogwarts," Albus replied urgently and took a step towards her without trying to touch her. "I will be forced to divide my attention in the times to come. Hogwarts needs you. Now more than ever."

"I can do more than that," Minerva insisted.

"And you will," Albus nodded. "It is only a matter of time until the Ministry comes calling again. You are one of the precious few highly capable and trained Animagi they know of. They will ask for your help in this war, and I think it's better not to force you to work for both sides. They would only try to use you to glean information about what it is I'm doing."

"Fine," Minerva huffed, too exhausted to argue, and turned away.

That's when Albus grabbed her by the shoulders. He didn't try to turn her back around to face him. He just held on to her. "Minerva, please stop. Let me know how I can help you."

"You can't," she said wearily. "Not this time." By loving Albus, she had killed Dougal. It was a truth as simple as it was devastating.

Albus took yet another step closer to her, bringing his mouth almost right to her ear. "There is only one person to blame for what happened last night, and it is not you," he said gently but determined.

"But I am still alive and his entire family is dead," Minerva replied, pained.

"And had you belonged to that family, you would probably be dead now, too," Albus pointed out.

"Maybe it would be better that way."

"I understand that you loved him, but you have held on to that love twenty times as long as you ever got to be with him. You were loving a ghost long before he died."

Anger flared up inside of her hot and fast. "Really, Albus? You of all people want to lecture me about loving ghosts? You made me say a dead girl's name every time I wanted to step into your rooms! So don't you talk to me about holding on to the dead!"

When Minerva turned around to him now, Albus looked decades older, greyer. "Then help me, Minerva," he pleaded with her. "Help me hold on to the living. Help me hold on to you."

"Don't you have more important things to do?" she wondered.

"Yes," he said plainly. "And no. Because if we let him have this, then he has already won."

"Then perhaps he has won!" Minerva exclaimed helplessly. "My God, Albus! He has giants and werewolves and possibly Inferi, and we don't know where he is or who most of his supporters are! We can't possibly protect everyone. We can't even protect innocent children! So what can we do?"

"We can mourn them. And grieve. And let our hearts be broken. We can suffer the pain and endure guilt." Albus' eyes were ablaze, his voice transcendent. "But we must live and love and fight to see another day, because we cannot give in and we cannot let him have one inch more than he can pry from the very tips of our fingers."

Minerva gaped at him, at the man he was, not because of his power or his magic, but because of his beautiful, beautiful heart.

A tremble ran through her entire body. She couldn't speak and she still couldn't see the way forward, but perhaps she didn't need to.

Because he would lift her up. All he needed from her was not to lose faith in him now.

And so she stepped back into Albus' arms.

When he held her to him, it didn't magically make the pain go away, but it reminded her that the pain hadn't magically made the love go away either. "Do you think it was a coincidence?" Minerva whispered into his shoulder. "That they set that giant loose in Caithness, of all counties in Scotland?"

"I don't know," Albus replied. But they both knew that he didn't believe in coincidences. "If I thought it would save you, I would let you go," he said quietly.

"Would you?" Minerva asked, her heart clenching in her chest.

Albus rested his chin on the top of her head and held on tighter. "No."

Despite her guilt and confusion and pain, Minerva released a shaky breath of relief. If their love was selfish and dangerous, well then, they would just have to fight until the very end.