A/N: Thank you all for reading and reviewing the last chapter! Happy to hear you're excited about part 3. So am I, and here we go with chapter 2…

48. Like Father, like Son

The castle was abuzz with the news that the Boy Who Lived would come to Hogwarts on this very day. It wasn't just the teachers, ghosts and portraits. No, it was the actual building. After checking that everything was ready for the students in Gryffindor Tower, it took Minerva forever to get back to the first floor because the staircases kept changing direction without actually stopping anywhere. She felt quite nauseated by the time she finally reached her study.

It was utterly ridiculous. And yes, a little exciting.

The day passed in a blur until it was time for the students to arrive and the Sorting to begin. The first-years looked like any other group of young hopefuls Minerva had welcomed to Hogwarts. She spotted Harry Potter right away, but she was not going to say anything or stare at him or other such nonsense. The poor boy looked nervous enough already. Which was perfectly normal and did not make him stand out in the least. Not even his famous scar was all that noticeable. Actually, it was the poor condition his glasses were in that caught Minerva's attention the most. But she probably wouldn't do Potter any favours by fixing them for him in front of the other first-years. That frustrated her more than she would have expected. She still remembered how pristine the house of his Muggle relatives had looked. If one had time to keep such a neatly-trimmed lawn, how hard could it be to get their nephew proper eyewear?

Since there was nothing she could do about that now, Minerva snapped at the young students to clean themselves up before they would be presented to the whole school. One of them had suspiciously red hair and dirt on his face and another one with eyes that were vaguely familiar had his cloak hanging from his ear. Minerva didn't single them out because they weren't in her house yet. Although she had a strong feeling that was only a matter of minutes.

The Sorting wasn't any different this year than it had been previously. Except for the way everyone in the Great Hall collectively held their breath when Minerva called Harry Potter's name. Thankfully, the Sorting Hat seemed oblivious to all the commotion. It didn't take him long to send Potter off to Gryffindor. Minerva schooled her features as best she could, hoping to show nothing more than mild approval. Perhaps she would get a chance to fix those glasses for him after all.

As expected, the red-haired sixth child of Molly and Arthur Weasley and the grandson of her friend Augusta Longbottom also ended up in Gryffindor. Augusta had told Minerva how worried they had been that Neville might not possess any magic at all and she had asked her to keep her updated on his progress at Hogwarts. When the first thing the boy did was to run off with the Sorting Hat and trip over his own feet on his way to the Gryffindor house table, Minerva decided that Augusta probably didn't need to hear about that.

As she left the hall to return the hat, Minerva heard Albus say the oddest thing to open the banquet (Nitwit, Blubber, something or other). After dropping off the Sorting Hat she hurried to get back to the Great Hall because following the incident with the staircases she hadn't eaten all day. By now she felt ready to change that. Which was impeccable timing because even the start-of-term feast turned out to be just a little more extravagant than usual.

After helping herself to some roast chicken, Minerva asked Albus, "What in Merlin's name was that you said earlier to start the feast?"

"I have absolutely no idea. Just the first words that sprang to mind," he replied cheerfully.

Minerva heaved a sigh. "I swear you get more peculiar the older you get."

Albus leaned in closer so no one else would hear him over the general noise in the hall and she felt his hand come to rest on her leg underneath the table. "And yet you love me."

Minerva gaped at him. Not so much because of what he had said, but because he was being almost brazenly affectionate, even though they were surrounded by practically the entire school. No one was paying attention to them, but still.

"You're in an exceptionally good mood tonight," Minerva observed.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Perhaps because there is something potentially very dangerous right beneath the feet of all these unsuspecting students?"

"Ah, but there is also excellent food, wonderful company and the most spectacular roof over our heads." He glanced at the magical ceiling and Minerva felt compelled to do the same.

It really was magnificent. Sometimes Minerva wondered if its true magic was not simply to mirror the most beautiful skies, but to spark joy in the hearts of those who looked at them. Then again, that wasn't only the magic of the Great Hall. It was the magic of Hogwarts Castle. And she was as much in awe of it as she had been on her very first day within these hallowed halls.

When Minerva lowered her gaze, Albus was smiling at her warmly. "Exquisite. Like I said."

She rolled her eyes at him, and then she squeezed his hand under the table.

She knew that it wasn't actually the beauty of Hogwarts Castle that had put Albus in his best mood all summer. And it wasn't Minerva either. It was the fact that Harry Potter was finally sitting only a couple of metres away from them, (relatively) safe and sound – and at the right table no less.

He did have a point. That was certainly something to be thankful for. In the end Minerva decided to be happy that Albus was happy.

She could have done with a little less happiness when Albus decided to let the students sing the school song. No matter what Albus said, that wasn't music. It was an assault on anyone who possessed the ability to hear. It was a relief when Albus sent the students off to bed.

Minerva would have liked to do the same, but she found that sleep eluded her. She had retired for the night, planning to sleep in her own bed. She often did that when she had a feeling there would be trouble with the students during the night or when she knew that Albus had no intentions of sleeping any time soon. The headmaster's bedroom simply felt too big without him. Albus had always been a terrible sleeper and he was only getting worse with age. Also, when he did sleep, he could snore like an old lion with a sinus infection.

Perhaps this year Minerva would become an insomniac as well. She got out of bed, grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and returned to Albus' study. As expected, he was still sitting in his favourite armchair by the fire with Fawkes for company.

When Minerva joined them, Albus looked up from the book he was reading. "I thought you wanted to get an early start tomorrow? Since it's the first day of school."

"I've had so many first days of school, I can do them in my sleep," Minerva assured him.

"Except you're not sleeping," Albus pointed out.

"I keep imagining the students trying to get into the third-floor corridor," she confessed. "After all, you practically told them to."

"I literally did the opposite," Albus said, his brows knitted. "And I painted a rather colourful picture if I do say so myself."

Minerva laughed humourlessly. "Exactly."

"Well, if they do get into the corridor, I daresay they would beat a hasty retreat."

"If they still can. I don't fancy telling Molly and Arthur Weasley that we'll be sending them back four children, just minus one or two body parts."

Albus' lips twitched. "Perhaps the pain of re-growing their limbs would take the fun out of rule-breaking for a while."

"Since when are you a proponent of tough love?" Minerva asked in surprise.

"Whatever gets you through the night, my dear," Albus replied serenely. She was about to respond when he added more sternly, "Other than roaming the castle in your Animagus form to check if everything is still where it's supposed to be."

Minerva grumbled and sank back into her chair. Smiling, Albus rested a hand on his armrest, palm up. She took it, lacing her fingers through his, allowing the touch to anchor her and his warmth to combat her restlessness. Albus returned to his book and Minerva started reading bits and pieces over his shoulder. Until her head came to rest there and she eventually fell asleep.

Which she regretted a hundred times over the next morning. She was too bloody old to sleep in chairs. And for no reason, too. Minerva checked with Poppy before breakfast. No students had been to the hospital wing yet. Not even the Weasley twins. Annoyed with herself, Minerva shook off her worries and focused on her classes. She had told Albus that the first day of the new term wasn't nearly as exciting anymore after over thirty years of teaching. But that wasn't completely true. Minerva was very much looking forward to getting to know her new Gryffindors. And she did that every year. It had nothing to do with Harry Potter.

All right, maybe it had something to do with it. James Potter had had a knack for Transfiguration from very early on. Perhaps Minerva was a little curious if his son would demonstrate the same aptitude.

As it turned out, he did not. Not yet anyway. She knew how overwhelming the first week at Hogwarts could be, especially for students who had only just learned that such a thing as magic existed at all. Of course, that wasn't true for all of them. A girl named Hermione Granger delighted Minerva, proving to be both very talented and clever.

Minerva had just moved on from the topic of Harry Potter when she walked right back into it by entering the staffroom at the end of the week.

"I've found him to be very polite and modest. Well, mostly he was quiet. Didn't say much, actually," Pomona was recapping her Herbology lesson.

"Can't say anything if there's nothing worth saying in that questionable little brain of his," Severus replied, which was shocking in more ways than one. Mostly insofar that he was contributing to the conversation at all.

"Isn't that a bit harsh?" Filius said, beating Minerva to it.

"I asked him three pathetically basic questions and he couldn't answer a single one," Severus sneered.

Now Minerva had to jump in. "Wasn't today your first lesson with him? Meaning it was his first Potions lesson ever?" She phrased it like a question, but she knew the answer already. She was in charge of the timetables after all. "How was he supposed to know any of it yet?"

"Oh, I don't know. By opening a book perchance? Doesn't that sound like something you would expect from any other student but him." There was so much venom in his voice when Severus said that last word, it startled Minerva.

Pomona continued the conversation for her. "But we need to cut him some slack, don't we?"

"Why?" Severus asked stubbornly.

"That's obvious, isn't it?"

Severus glowered and his voice was downright nasty. "What's obvious is that everyone in this school is bending over backwards to make excuses for a boy who is not only terribly ordinary but also appallingly ignorant and impertinent."

Minerva found her voice again. "You know, Severus, I was just in the hospital wing, checking on Mr Longbottom, who is recovering from his accident in your class earlier. Funny how one student doesn't have any of the right answers and another one gets hurt and the only common denominator is you. Perhaps you're the one who's making excuses for your dubious teaching methods."

"Actually, Minerva," Severus replied, meeting her gaze coolly, "the common denominator is that both of these students are Gryffindors, who clearly cannot be trusted to handle even the simplest of tasks. None of my Slytherin students in that same class embarrassed themselves like that."

Before Minerva could jump down his throat, Filius chimed in. "Come on, Severus, you have to admit to being somewhat biased."

The Potions master smirked at them. "Have we forgotten who has won the House Championship six years in a row now? Surely, you wouldn't want to accuse me of having made up all of those irrefutable accomplishments?"

The other three Heads of House had no choice but to let him gloat because, unfortunately, it was all true.

Filius recovered first. His voice chipper, he announced, "I have a feeling that this year will be the one. Don't get too comfortable staring at that cup in your office, Severus. Ravenclaw and Gryffindor will give you a run for your money."

"Excuse me?" Pomona protested. "Hufflepuff got some wonderful new students this year. And because none of you understand the value of being nice to others, you won't even see us coming when we go after the championship."

"I'm positively terrified," Severus mocked her.

Filius looked sympathetic, but he, too, joked, "Yes, we're quirrelling, er, quivering with fear."

Whether it had been intentional or not, they all laughed about Filius' slip of the tongue, even Pomona, though it wasn't nice or appropriate. Even less so when Quirrell himself walked into the room. They quickly fell silent and looked away.

All except Severus, who, to Minerva's surprise, kept his eyes on Quirrell, staring him down. "How goes the teaching, Quirrell? Learned anything yet or made some interesting discoveries?"

Quirrell froze with one hand on a chair he had been meaning to pull out. "I d-d-don't know what you m-m-mean."

Minerva sighed. It had never been her lifelong dream to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts. But even if it had, she would probably decide that it wasn't worth being constantly harassed by Severus Snape. "We were just talking about this past week and our impressions of the new students," she tried to explain to Quirinus as friendly as possible.

Pomona eagerly followed her lead. "Yes, do tell us what you think. Your subject is the one he'd have to be most brilliant at, right?"

Quirrell blinked. "Who?"

"Harry Potter."

The man grabbed his turban as though overcome by a sudden headache. "I really c-c-couldn't say. And I j-j-just remembered … forgot … something." He ran off.

"Will you look at that," Filius muttered once Quirrell had fled the room. "You and Quirinus have something in common, Severus. You're both equally touchy when it comes to talking about Potter."

Severus grimaced, stopping just shy of baring his teeth.

That put an end to their uncomfortable conversation. Which was just as well. So Potter hadn't done anything remarkable in his first week at Hogwarts. In other words, he had been exactly like any other student. That was both his right and his privilege. No matter who his parents had been, how they had died and how he had lived. Honestly, if nothing unusual happened to the boy for the rest of his life, it was probably a blessing.

Never mind what Severus thought – if Potter turned out to be perfectly ordinary, that was just fine with Minerva.

And then, of course, a couple of days later she saw him fly.

Sometimes Albus sorely missed the days when he could still walk the corridors of Hogwarts Castle without having anyone pay special attention to him. Admittedly, those days might have never actually existed. But by now it was virtually impossible for him not to be seen, unless he made it possible of course.

Not that he minded talking to colleagues or students. Rather the opposite. It was often the sole reason he left his office. Unfortunately, not many students dared to talk to him. Most just stopped to look or to let him pass or they gave him a wide berth to begin with – as if Albus was about five times his actual size. A lesser man might have felt self-conscious about that.

Thankfully, he wasn't just out for a stroll through the castle today. He was on his way to the one person he could always talk to – other than Fawkes, who, truth be told, wasn't much of a conversationalist. Well, Minerva wasn't either when she was upset with him for some reason. But he didn't think that likely today. She had specifically asked to speak with him rather urgently. He simply hadn't found the time before now. Come to think of it, that might be something to be upset about.

Albus decided to take his chances and swiftly knocked on her office door before entering. Minerva had been standing by the window. She now turned around as though she wanted to run right at him to greet him, but then she seemed to think better of it. Oh, something was definitely up, but it didn't appear to be anger.

"You wished to see me. I'm sorry it took so long. Cornelius is having a very bad day at the office and for some reason he still thinks I could help him with that," Albus told her.

Minerva shook her head. "People like him will never understand why you chose Hogwarts over the Ministry."

"Repeatedly and emphatically," Albus nodded. "But that is not only old news as they like to say, it is also completely irrelevant at the moment."

"It's not irrelevant to me if Cornelius is making you have a bad day as well," Minerva argued.

Albus responded to that with his first genuine smile all day. "That is very kind of you, as always, but I am fine." He waited for her to take control of the conversation as she was wont to do. When she didn't say anything, he added, "And I'm being terribly rude. I should of course ask you how your day has been."

"Oh, good, very good."

Was she fidgeting? He hadn't seen that in a long time.

"Glad to hear it," Albus said, slightly amused.

There was another pause.

He chuckled. "Not that I don't love being in your company, but I was under the impression that you had something more important on your mind," he prompted her gently.

"That's a matter of perspective, isn't it? In the end, what could be more important to me than your well-being?" She was rambling and she had a sheepish look on her face because she knew it.

It was really quite adorable. But his curiosity was piqued now. "What's going on, Minerva?" he asked her bluntly.

She sighed and stopped wringing her hands. "I need you to bend the first-year rule and let me buy Potter a broomstick," she said in a rush.

Albus had considered several different reasons for her anxiety, but that had not been one of them. "Come again?"

"You heard me," Minerva hissed.

"Oh, yes, I hear you, but I'm not sure I still know you."

She began to pace behind her desk while Albus watched. "It's not my fault. I was planning on giving him detention for flying unsupervised, but... you should have seen him! First time on a broomstick, Albus, first time! And he was better than Charlie Weasley ever was. He was like..." She stopped, the look on her face bittersweet, "... like James, like his father. It's in his blood, Albus. We have to let him do this. He needs to play Quidditch. And quite honestly, Gryffindor needs him to play Quidditch. I cannot lose to Severus – again!" She shook herself as though she was thinking of a recurring nightmare. "Anyway, as talented as Potter is, he would only stand a chance if we get him a broom. I'm thinking the new Nimbus Two Thousand might do."

He waited to see if she had got everything she had wanted to say off her chest. Then he said, "So if I understood you correctly, and please do tell me if I'm mistaken, you, Minerva McGonagall, would like me to give you permission to break – not bend – break a school rule so a young boy can play a potentially dangerous sport. A boy you insisted should not get any special treatment whatsoever."

"I didn't... I... yes…" Minerva tried to explain, failed and then buried her face in her hands in an agony she could only inflict on herself.

Albus circled around her desk and reached for her hands to pull them gently away from her face. So she could look into his and see the smile there that he had been holding back valiantly during her speech.

"You're making fun of me!" she said indignantly.

"I apologise. But I'm an old man. I need to enjoy teasing you while I still can."

Minerva opened her mouth to say something, but instead she let her head drop until her forehead rested against his chest for a moment. Then she looked back up at him with renewed vigour. "You're all right with it then?"

"Usually we would need permission from his aunt and uncle. But I'm pretty sure they would actually prefer that we go over their heads with this rather than to try and explain Quidditch to them, so I think we can make an exception. Harry really wants to play?" Albus asked.

"Honestly, he doesn't know what Quidditch is any more than his aunt and uncle do. But he's a natural. I already introduced him to Wood and he'll get him caught up in no time."

Albus quirked an eyebrow. "Then you've already told Harry that he can play, regardless of what I was going to say?"

"I'm the Head of Gryffindor House. I can decide who gets to play on the team even if it's a first-year student." Minerva's eyes gleamed, challenging him to disagree. When he did not, she concluded, "I just can't get him the broom he needs without your say-so."

"Well, you have my permission," Albus told her. "But if the other Heads of House object..."

"I've already thought about that," Minerva cut him off, her usual confidence all but restored. "Obviously we can't show favouritism. If any of them have a first-year student, who is good enough to play Seeker on their respective Quidditch team and who needs a broom because they don't own one because they have Muggle guardians because their parents died when the most evil wizard of our time came after them… then they absolutely should be allowed to get that student a broom, too."

Albus laughed. "I see you've thought this through."

She shrugged. "You know me."

"I do. I know you don't get excited over nothing," Albus said. "He's really that good, huh?"

Minerva's eyes were ablaze with that special love she bore for the game of Quidditch, a love Albus had never truly understood, but he found it charming all the same. "Better than good, Albus. After all that talk about him being ordinary..."

"Who said he was ordinary?" Albus couldn't help but interrupt.

"Severus was the one who used that word, though that was actually one of the nicer things he said about Potter. He really hates that boy, Albus!" She had that look on her face that warned him that something was about to come that he wouldn't like. "Are you quite sure he isn't secretly still in league with You-Know-Who...?"

"Minerva," Albus said darkly, a hint of warning in his voice. Thankfully, that was all he needed to do to redraw that particular line in the sand.

She moved on reluctantly but quickly. "Anyway, Severus will be livid when he hears about Potter playing."

"And why, pray tell, does that prospect make you so very happy?"

His disapproval was clear, but Minerva was impervious to it. "Oh, let me gloat about this just a little. Severus rubs every Slytherin win in my face for weeks!"

"And wouldn't you like to aspire to be better than him in that regard?" Albus suggested.

Minerva thought about that for all of two seconds. "No, I would prefer to hit him over the head with a broomstick. Figuratively speaking, of course."

"Of course," Albus echoed sourly.

"I hope that hasn't changed your mind about all of this."

"No, but please don't advertise it too much. Or we might face an army of owls from angry parents who'd like their children to have broomsticks, too."

Minerva nodded. "As if I'd go around telling people that I rewarded a student for breaking the rules."

Albus smiled to himself.

"What?"

"I just couldn't help noticing that it took Harry less than two weeks to follow in his father's footsteps and to reveal himself as a Quidditch player and a bit of a rule-breaker."

"I could have done with only one of those two," Minerva lamented.

"Mhm," said Albus, agreeing with her.

But he was wise enough not to tell her that while she was referring to the Quidditch thing, he was rather more interested in the rule-breaking.