43. The Worst of Times

Hogwarts had quickly become one of the only secure places in Britain. Minerva was immensely proud of that. Keeping the students safe was of the utmost importance. If they hadn't been able to guarantee their safety, there would have been no other option but to close the school altogether.

But so far Voldemort and his followers came nowhere near it. Ironically, Minerva almost wished they would. Then she could have enjoyed a front-row seat to witnessing his defeat. In her mind, there was no question as to why Voldemort wasn't showing his face other than to commit his horrendous acts of terror before slinking back into the shadows. He was scared to face Albus.

With nothing but death, fear and distrust sweeping through the country, Minerva had never been more grateful for her calling to teach. At times, things at Hogwarts were almost normal – or whatever passed for normal around here. Yelling at James Potter and Sirius Black every other day was a welcome distraction from all her other worries. Not that she would ever tell them that.

They did not need further encouragement for their exploits. They could also not be reined in. And perhaps, if Minerva was truly honest with herself, she wasn't really trying as hard as she could have. It had quickly become clear to her that they were true Gryffindors at heart, even Black. Their brilliance and bravery could not be denied. And their occasional hubris and pig-headedness was counterbalanced by their kindness. To some people at least.

They had indeed made friends with Remus Lupin, which seemed to have made all the difference in the world for the poor boy. And then there was Peter Pettigrew, whose name Minerva had kept forgetting in the beginning because he was just so, well, easy to forget. Whether Potter and Black really liked him or just needed a bit of a fan club was debatable. Either way, Minerva never got directly involved in the social interactions of her students.

If she had, she wouldn't have questioned Black and Potter's choice in friends, but Lily Evans' – a bright young witch in the making, who reminded Minerva of herself sometimes. Not only because she was the newest crown jewel in Horace's Slug Club collection. But for reasons beyond Minerva's comprehension, her best friend was a boy from Slytherin, who was very hard to read. In Minerva's classes, he hid behind a thick curtain of greasy black hair and he never spoke unless she specifically called on him.

The only good thing Minerva could say about Severus Snape was that he wasn't as loud and boisterous as the rest of Slytherin House. There were days when they acted as though they owned the entire school. Every other morning at least one poor boy or girl at either the Gryffindor, Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff house table would suffer a heartbreaking meltdown after receiving the worst kind of news from home. Out of sympathy, and knowing that they could be next, the other students ate in silence. All except for the Slytherins. They kept laughing and messing around because they knew that their families were safe.

Sometimes Minerva thought of what Apollyon Pringle – of all people – had said to Albus. Little murderers in the making. She couldn't help but wonder if his words had never been more true than they were now.

A knock on her office door pulled Minerva out of her reverie. "Come in," she called and tried to hide her surprise when it wasn't a student or a colleague who entered, but a somewhat fearsome-looking wizard with thin hair, small, calculating eyes and a distinctive scar across his face.

"I was told if I wanted to see the headmaster, I should talk to you first," he said without preamble as he stepped inside her study.

His voice made Minerva think of grating cheese. "And who are you?"

"Alastor Moody, Auror," he introduced himself briskly. "I'm guessing you've heard of me, and I've heard of you, so let's just skip the chitchat, all right?"

Asking for his name hardly qualified as chitchat in Minerva's eyes. But she had in fact heard of Alastor Moody, and he was well known for a lot of things, good manners not being one of them. "All right, why do you want to see the headmaster?"

"No offense, but that's between Dumbledore and me," Moody growled.

"No offense," Minerva echoed sharply, "but if you want me to take you to the headmaster, you'll need to give me more than that."

Moody glared at her, but interestingly enough, he didn't look annoyed. It was almost as if he approved of her tone. "I'm here to offer my services," he said after sizing her up for a moment.

Clearly, he didn't mean as a teacher because no one in their right mind would set this man loose on the students. Which left only one other option, and that was not Minerva's decision to make, since Albus still hadn't let her officially join the Order.

"Come with me," she said and led Moody to Albus' office. He was changing the password almost daily and the list of people who knew it was extremely short. Minerva was serving as his guard dog as much as the stone gargoyle did. Albus was simply too busy to be bothered with anything that didn't absolutely require this attention.

Minerva didn't bother to wait for an answer from Albus after knocking on his office door because she knew that he was alone and he knew that she would be the one to enter. All she needed to do was to introduce the visitor she had brought.

"Albus, this is…"

"Alastor Moody," Albus finished her sentence for her and stood to shake the other wizard's hand. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Not sure what pleasure you're talking about, Dumbledore," Moody replied gruffly. "I'm not here for platitudes or I would have stayed at the Ministry. I'm here to talk about what's really going on."

Albus inclined his head. "I see. In that case, I'm all ears."

Moody's narrow eyes darted towards Minerva, which did not go unnoticed by either Albus or Minerva.

"You can say whatever you've come to say," Albus assured the Auror. "You can trust that none of it will leave this room."

"Trusting anyone other than yourself these days is the kind of foolishness that can get you killed, Dumbledore," Moody warned him.

"Then I guess I'm a fool," Albus said coolly. "If that's a problem, this will be an extremely short conversation."

Moody sized him up the same way he had done with Minerva earlier. "Have it your way then. We both know the Ministry has no idea how to win this war. Too busy chasing their own tail, now that anyone could be under the Imperius Curse."

"Including you?" Albus asked sharply.

The Auror gave a sudden bellow of laughter. "I'd like to see them try! But you're a quick study, Dumbledore. That's exactly what I'm talking about. You can't trust most of the bloody idiots out there, except for maybe a select few. I've heard rumours that you're collecting people like that."

"And you wish for me to collect you?"

"I want to do my part, Dumbledore. And there are others. Others I can vouch for."

Albus nodded thoughtfully.

Minerva took a step closer to him. "You said you didn't want to mix Order and Ministry business," she reminded him quietly.

He looked up at her, his eyes weary. "The sad truth is that we sorely need the help." His gaze went from her to Moody. "The Order would very much welcome the contributions of a man such as yourself, Alastor."

"Good, but she's right. Better the Ministry doesn't hear about this," Moody replied.

"Agreed. I assume you can produce a Patronus?" Albus asked him.

"A Patronus?" Moody repeated, confused. "Do you expect an army of Dementors to descend upon us?"

"At this point, I wouldn't rule it out. But the Patronus Charm can also be useful in other ways. To deliver messages in private, for example," Albus explained. What he meant by that was that he had invented such a way.

Moody answered with a curt nod, which was probably the closest he got to showing that he was impressed. "You really are a clever one, eh?"

"I will be in touch," was Albus' only response to that.

"All right." Moody turned back towards the door. "For what it's worth, I would rethink whatever this is," he added, pointing from Albus to Minerva and back. "Can't have any weaknesses right now, Dumbledore."

"What we cannot do," Albus replied calmly – a hell of a lot calmer than Minerva felt – "is to think like Voldemort does. He would certainly refer to love as a weakness, and he would be just as wrong to do so as you are."

Moody looked unconvinced, but he also didn't seem to have a rebuttal, so he shrugged and left.

"Charming fellow," Minerva commented drily.

"But he'll be of great value to the Order," said Albus.

"Unlike me," she couldn't stop herself from saying.

"You are of the greatest value to this school, the Ministry and, most importantly, to me. Isn't that enough?"

"Is anything ever going to be enough until we've won this war?" Minerva asked.

Albus leaned back in his chair, looking as though he didn't really have an answer to that question. "It'll have to be."

Minerva was so tired, she could feel it in her bones. After a long day of teaching and then overseeing yet another Potter/Black detention, she had left Hogwarts Castle in the cover of night to do her work for the Ministry – which usually involved spending all night as a cat, spying on possible Death Eaters or people who might have been put under the Imperius Curse. The distinction was increasingly hard to make.

Tonight Minerva had managed to gather some valuable information. Now that she had passed that information on to her Ministry contact, all she could think about was sleep. She stumbled into her office, singularly focused on heading straight to bed. When she noticed that somebody was standing in the shadows by the window, Minerva winced so badly, she thought the sudden jolt that ripped through her might cause her heart to give out.

Light flared up and Minerva released a shaky breath. "Jesus Christ, Albus! I almost cursed your head off!" she cussed. "What in Merlin's name are you doing?"

He didn't respond, but he did pull her into his arms in a way that was unusually rough. She did neither resist nor complain. She perfectly understood the needy way his fingers were digging into her skin. Lately, all they did was to lose people. Holding on to what they loved became harder with every passing day.

"I apologise," Albus said at long last. "I just needed to make sure that you're all right."

"Why?" Minerva asked in alarm. "What happened?" Oh, how she had come to hate that question.

"The Order got word of another murder. One Voldemort seems to have committed himself, and we know he only kills those 'worthy' of his attention," Albus told her. "The witch hasn't been identified yet. All I knew was that you were out working for the Ministry tonight…"

Minerva sighed, wishing it wouldn't make her feel so guilty when she said, "I'm fine."

"My heart won't be if this continues," Albus said. "If I had known that it would come to this when you asked me to help you become an Animagus all those years ago…"

"… then we would now be missing yet another weapon," Minerva cut him off. "And we don't have enough as it is."

The Ministry was in disarray, the Order was too small, and growing smaller. The Prewett brothers had been killed only last week.

A devastating, heartbreaking loss.

And it had tripled the fear. The Prewetts were a well-known, respectable, pure-blood family. They had died because of their work for the Order. It meant that the Death Eaters were now also killing pure-bloods and half-bloods if they got in their way or didn't agree with their vision of the society they were trying to build. It meant that no one was safe.

"You are so much more than a weapon, especially to me," Albus said into the quiet.

"Which is why you decided not to use me," Minerva reminded him. "But I have to do everything I can, and you have to trust that I'll be okay."

Albus lowered himself onto the edge of one of her chairs and ran a hand over his face. A face that had twice as many lines now and was framed by hair with streaks of grey in it. Minerva watched him age a little more every day right in front of her eyes.

She stepped up to him and Albus wrapped an arm around her midriff and laid his head against her stomach. She buried a hand in his hair that was growing longer, too. It sounded silly, but he didn't even have time to cut it anymore.

"Or are you questioning what you keep saying about trusting each other?" she asked.

"These days I'm questioning virtually every decision I've ever made," Albus replied. "You are the only exception." He pressed a kiss to her navel and got back up.

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

"Back to work."

Her eyebrows shot up. "It's four in the morning."

"Is it?" Albus replied, sounding indifferent. Clearly, that didn't mean anything to him.

"Fine, then I'll stay up with you," Minerva decided. She would have only got two more hours of sleep anyway. At most.

Wordlessly, Albus held out his hand to her. There had been a time when he would have argued and tried to send her to bed. But the weight on his shoulders was too great for that now. He wouldn't ask, he never did, but he needed her. And Minerva would give what little she had to offer. Until she had nothing left, if she had to.

Fawkes eyed them warily, dozing on his perch, when they were back in Albus' office. They didn't really get much work done. Before long they sat in two armchairs and watched the sun come up and bathe the office in colours of red and gold.

"Isn't it strange that there can still be something this beautiful in a time this dark?" Minerva mused.

"Only because we keep forgetting that light and dark can never exist separately from one another," Albus replied.

"But that would mean that even if we defeat Voldemort, there will still be darkness."

"Yes, and in that darkness there will be light, just as there is now. It's just a matter of finding it."

The rays of the early morning sun sparkled in Albus' half-moon spectacles and they turned the grey streaks in his hair to an almost blinding white.

"I am not the answer," he said softly, as if he had just read her thoughts.

Secretly, Minerva disagreed, but she said, "So we keep looking."

"Yes," Albus sighed. "We keep looking."

He hadn't been at a professional Quidditch game of the British and Irish Quidditch League in… possibly ever, Albus realised. Minerva had occasionally joked about dragging him to a game to support the Montrose Magpies with her, but of course, she had never done it because it would have been too public a display.

Nevertheless, Albus wished that was why he was here now. But it had nothing to do with Minerva's love for Quidditch and everything to do with the fact that the Montrose Magpies and the Appleby Arrows both had the most Muggle-born players on their teams. The Magpies' Seeker was one more catch away from setting a new record. Unfortunately, the Order had learned that the Death Eaters had no intention of allowing that to come to pass.

Albus had tried to talk to the Head of Magical Games and Sports about cancelling this regular season meeting between the two teams. But Hamish MacFarlan had refused, saying that they couldn't take away the joy of Quidditch, too, when it was the only thing some people were still leaving their houses for. In truth, he simply hadn't wanted to lose face.

So now, the Order had come out here to watch the game, hoping to stop another disaster from happening. The Death Eaters' latest attacks had become so brazen that they no longer went for subtlety or stealth. Ten minutes into the game, they descended upon the stadium on broomsticks, sending curses after the few security guards to get directly to the defenceless players.

From his place in the stands Albus raised his wand and blasted the Death Eaters out of the sky with a well-aimed, fierce gust of wind that the Quidditch players knew how to avoid. The Death Eaters, not trained to stay on brooms or prepared for such resistance, fell. For a wild moment Albus felt a grim satisfaction as he watched and let them fall. But then he sent ropes after them that both secured and saved them.

With the Quidditch match thrown into chaos, Alastor walked onto the pitch to unmask the Death Eaters. "He's not with them," he growled.

"I didn't think he would be." Albus had never truly expected Tom to show himself at a Quidditch game.

But there had been too many deaths among members of the Order lately for Albus not to come out in person. It always left him with a feeling of unease, though, to be away from Hogwarts. Even knowing that Minerva and the rest of the staff would be on high alert.

A silent pop announced the arrival of Mundungus Fletcher right by Albus' side. Minerva had almost breathed fire when she had learned that Albus had allowed the petty criminal to join the Order. But his less reputable contacts had proved quite useful.

"You said to keep you informed if there's trouble, Dumbledore," he wheezed. "Well, there's trouble all right."

"You're a true genius, ain't you, Dung?" Alastor glared at the smaller wizard. "We know there is trouble!"

Albus held up a hand. "Where?" he asked.

"Couple Death Eaters showed up in Diagon Alley. Tried to shut down all stores that sold stuff they didn't like or were owned by people they didn't like. Well, some of the store owners didn't like that much," Mundungus told him.

Urgently, Albus asked Alastor to control the situation at the stadium until the Ministry officials would arrive, and then he left for Diagon Alley with a deep sense of foreboding.

"I heard you were a Hatstall," said Filius Flitwick in a high voice.

"I was," Minerva replied haltingly.

"And that the choice was either Gryffindor or Ravenclaw," Flitwick continued.

"Yes."

"Mine, too! I mean, I wasn't a true Hatstall because the Sorting Hat took a little less than five minutes and that's the threshold, I think. But it was close. Funny, isn't it? I very nearly could have been Head of Gryffindor House and you could have been Head of Ravenclaw House."

Minerva eyed the newest addition to the Hogwarts teaching staff with growing suspicion. "Yes, hilarious."

Standing in the doorway to the staffroom, Albus sighed quietly. He had sent word to the castle, asking that Minerva should be kept from hearing the news until he returned. Apparently, the job had fallen to their new colleague. He had taken over for Cyrille Sowerby only recently, and yet he was kind enough to do the best he could to distract Minerva.

She must have heard Albus sigh because she turned around to him now.

Possibly for the first time ever, Albus wished that they wouldn't be so attuned to one another. As soon as Minerva looked into his eyes, she knew. And the answering look she gave him broke his heart.

The woman he loved, the strongest woman he had ever known, was begging him. Begging him not to say it. If that could have made the truth and the pain go away, Albus would have gladly held his peace forever.

Sadly, silence was not the answer, and he wouldn't make Minerva say the words either. He wouldn't force her to ask who and how. It mattered little anyway since the loss was the same in the end.

"There were Death Eaters in Diagon Alley, attempting to get it under their control. Robert resisted them," Albus said, his voice heavy, while he walked towards her. "He could not stop them. But they… stopped him."

Minerva lost both her composure and her balance and threatened to fall. With a yelp of alarm, little goblin-descended Flitwick struggled to keep her upright, but Albus was already there to take over for him.

"What do you need?" Flitwick asked urgently.

"Privacy," Albus replied quietly.

The Charms master gave a curt nod and, armed with his wand, he helped them to leave the staffroom and to make their way to Minerva's study without being seen. It allowed Albus to use his hands to hold Minerva and not his wand.

She had been completely limp in his arms until they stepped over the threshold to her bedroom. "Debbie! Catriona!" she suddenly cried, jerking back upright.

"They are both fine!" Albus promised her, stroking her hair. "Mundungus is taking them somewhere safe for the time being."

"No! Not him!" Minerva moaned, struggling against Albus' hold on her.

"He will take them where no one else will think to look," he insisted. "They are safe."

"Not as safe as they'd be with you. Not as safe as Robert would have been if you had been there," Minerva argued, her eyes flashing. "Where were you? Where were you?" she screamed as she pummelled his chest with her fists.

Albus didn't stop her, not until her movements became so erratic that he was worried she might hurt herself.

When he held her hands in his grip, she lashed out with her words instead. "I want an answer, Albus! Where were you? What have you been doing? Up there in your office, busy with your research, digging into his past, collecting your information… How has that helped? How has it changed anything? How has it saved anyone while my little brother was murdered in cold blood?"

He had no answer for her and she didn't actually wait for him to give one. Her anger collapsed at the same time that she did, replaced by tears and anguish and heartbreak.

"Oh my love, my love…" Albus murmured as he caught her and laid her on the bed.

She didn't fight him. She barely even seemed to know that he was there. He said her name like a prayer over and over to bring her back to herself, but she was gone. Untethered in her sorrow and grief.

All he could do was to hold her all night, while he listened to her shuddering breaths and jagged cries, and hope that some part of her soul would still be left by morning.

Staring blankly into space, Minerva flinched visibly when a sudden movement outside her office window caught her attention against her will. It was only a bird, though, and she would have quickly looked away again, had she not noticed that it was a very strange-looking bird.

It had a beak like a toucan, the body of a pelican and wings as silver as a water goblet. It struggled mightily to stay airborne right outside her window. Minerva had seen a poor animal like that once before. She had tried to get it through James Potter's thick skull that he needed to stop messing around in her class or he would never learn how not to torture animals like that, despite all his brilliance.

Since then, all of Minerva's classes had been cancelled or covered by colleagues so she could attend her brother's funeral. She hadn't found it within herself to return to the classroom just yet. But that bird outside her window could only be a message and a plea, and to Minerva's surprise it brought a small smile to her lips.

"I haven't seen that look on your face in a while."

She hadn't heard Albus come in, but she turned around to him now, glad to see him. "I will start teaching again tomorrow," she told him.

Albus sat in the chair opposite of hers. "If that is your wish, I'm happy to hear it. But you can still decide to go and join your family."

The funeral had been a small and quiet affair. Afterwards, even though they hadn't liked the idea one bit, Robert's surviving wife and daughter, Minerva's parents, her remaining brother Malcolm and his new wife Heather, who was also pregnant, had all agreed to accept the Order's protection and to go into hiding.

"No, my place is here," Minerva said determinedly. "Especially now that I know that they are safe. Thanks to you," she added.

"I only did what little I could offer your family. I don't deserve your gratitude, but I'm glad I could give you at least some peace of mind," Albus said, his voice weary and sad. Minerva knew she was part of the reason why he sounded like that and she regretted it immensely.

She reached out to take his hand. "Will you forgive me?"

His brow furrowed. "What in the world could you possibly have to ask my forgiveness for?"

"I was cruel to you," Minerva said, closing her eyes in regret. "I don't remember all of it, but I remember enough."

"You were in pain."

"That is no excuse to hurt you."

Albus leaned forward and clasped her hand in both of his. "It wasn't your words that hurt me. There's nothing you would need my forgiveness for, and even if there were, you would already have it."

Minerva laced her fingers through his in thanks. "I hope you know that I didn't mean any of it. You're doing everything you can, and more. I know that." She paused. "But having said that, you're absolutely sure there's no way for you to find… You-Know-Who and just go and… kill him?"

"It's not that simple, I'm afraid," Albus said grimly.

With a sigh, Minerva sank back into her chair. "I figured you would say that. Well, if that's not happening, then I guess I'll just have to do something I can actually do, which is preparing my classes for tomorrow."

Albus smiled at her. "I was hoping you would say that."

Cautiously, she returned his smile.

It had been the right decision. Minerva missed her family, most of all her brother, but she would have never seriously considered leaving Albus behind. Teaching at Hogwarts was more than just a distraction. She had always found fulfilment in it, and she would again, in time.

It also served as a reminder that she was far from the only one who had to deal with loss and bereavement. When Minerva thanked Filius for his help the other day, he told her stories of how the goblins were faring under You-Know-Who's reign of terror. Many of those stories made her hair stand on end. And at the end of the week Poppy had to leave the castle to help out her sister who had lost her husband.

Since there was also a full moon coming, Minerva volunteered to take over her chaperoning duties and look after Remus Lupin. By now the boy knew perfectly well what to do, so accompanying him to what the people of Hogsmeade had begun to refer to as the Shrieking Shack was more of a kindness than a necessity.

Minerva had never done this before. Once they were standing in the abandoned, old, decrepit house and she saw the claw marks and the destruction the werewolf had already left in here, she felt like a terrible human being for leaving the boy alone in this dump.

"Do you need anything else?" she asked worriedly.

"I'm fine, Professor," Lupin said, even though it was her job to reassure him, not the other way around. He said it almost cheerfully, which struck Minerva as very, very odd.

Following a sudden instinct from years of teaching, she said, "You do remember that you cannot – under any circumstances – leave this hut?"

Now Lupin no longer looked cheerful. His expression was pensive. "Yes, Professor."

"All right. Then I will see you tomorrow." Minerva squeezed his shoulder a little awkwardly and turned to leave.

"Professor," he called after her with some hesitation. "We all heard about your brother. I'm really sorry for your loss."

Surprised, Minerva paused. "Thank you," she then said around the lump in her throat.

"This war will be won by the right people. I know it will."

"And how do you know that?" Minerva asked, eyeing her student with a mixture of astonishment and appreciation.

Lupin scratched his head in embarrassment. "Well, I know that Dumbledore is the greatest wizard who ever lived, and if he doesn't find a way, then we're all doomed as a people anyway."

She gave her student a long, thoughtful look. He was years younger than her and yet all Minerva could do was agree with him.

A/N: I know some of you were interested in my depiction of the war. I have to admit that I have a lot of questions about it myself, so I decided to keep my focus on Minerva, who wasn't involved quite as much, and also to fast-forward a bit. I hope you still enjoyed this chapter.