51. Risk and Reward
Rolanda Hooch stormed into the staff room and she slammed the door with such force that it caught Arif Sikander completely by surprise. He sent the egg timer he had been holding, which, incidentally, was shaped like a rubber duck, flying all the way across the room. Minerva caught it just barely with one hand, which for some reason seemed to upset Rolanda even more.
"Are you quite all right?" Minerva asked her while she handed the egg timer back to the Muggle Studies teacher, who had taken over the department from Quirrell.
"All right?" Rolanda repeated shrilly and dropped into a free chair. "Sacked! That's how I am. I've been sacked!"
Everyone in the room stared at her, even Bathsheda, who usually didn't bother to pay attention while she was reading Witch Weekly.
And then, as if on cue, they all looked from Rolanda to Minerva as though this was somehow her fault. "What? No, that can't be true!" She refused to believe that this could have happened without her knowing about it.
To her relief, Rolanda backpedalled quickly. "Fine, not sacked exactly. But Dumbledore might as well have. Told me I wasn't allowed to referee the Gryffindor–Hufflepuff match."
"But why ever not?" asked Arif.
"Search me. Something about player safety. Ridiculous, if you ask me. It's not Quidditch without a bloody nose or two! I've been doing this all my life and I haven't had a player die on me yet!"
"I certainly hope not," Minerva rebuked her. "Since we're talking about mostly underage students, who we're all charged to protect." She would support Albus' decision, even if she didn't understand it yet.
"Who's going to referee the game then if it's not you?" Pomona wondered. "Don't tell me it's cancelled! The Hufflepuff team has been working so hard."
Rolanda shook her head. "The game will go ahead as scheduled, but apparently, Severus will step in as referee."
"Oh," said Pomona succinctly.
Minerva watched her support for Albus go out the window so fast, she didn't even have time to wave goodbye.
She was still in shock when Arif's egg timer suddenly went off. "Sorry, sorry," he muttered, hastily trying to turn it off. "Isn't this just a little bit… unfair? I realise Slytherin isn't playing, but they still have a vested interest in not letting Gryffindor win another game."
"Weeeell," said Pomona, drawing the word out unnecessarily. "One could argue that this is to make up for Harry Potter getting that broomstick he wasn't supposed to have…"
"We've been over that," Minerva reminded the other Head of House. "I'll buy all of your Hufflepuff first-years a ruddy broomstick if any of them can catch a tennis ball after a fifty-foot dive." She knew she was lashing out. Pomona knew it, too, and she didn't respond.
"What's a tennis ball?" Bathsheda whispered to Arif in the silence that ensued.
"Er..."
"Excuse me," Minerva said and rose from her chair to leave the room quickly.
She reached the headmaster's office in no time and she didn't wait for Albus to bid her to enter or to open his mouth to say anything else in greeting. "You're letting Severus referee a Gryffindor Quidditch game? Severus Snape, who can't even teach one class without taking points from my house?"
Albus pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ah, news really does travel too fast in this castle. I was going to talk to you about this."
"Oh, were you now?"
"Yes, Minerva, I was. Though, clearly, I needn't have bothered."
The weariness in Albus' voice made Minerva temper some of her anger. "All right, I assume you have a very good reason for doing this, so I'm listening."
The look on Albus' face brightened. "Thank you. For giving me the benefit of the doubt."
Minerva waited. For all of ten seconds. "Okay, but do you?"
"Do I what?"
"Have a good reason."
"I'm sure you remember how Harry's broom nearly bucked him off during his first match? If I recall correctly, you were rather shaken up about that, too. We're trying to prevent that from happening again," Albus explained.
Minerva's brow creased. "We?"
"It was Severus' idea."
She snorted. "You don't seriously think that Severus is doing this to protect Potter."
"Yes, Minerva, that is exactly what I believe," Albus said in that tone that warned her to tread lightly.
She changed direction. Slightly. "But you can't in all honesty expect him to be an impartial referee! That would be like giving Peeves free rein in the Trophy Room and expecting nothing to be broken by the end of it! If Rolanda can't be trusted to keep Harry safe, then… then you do it. You could referee the game."
"I don't know if I should be flattered or insulted that your faith in me knows no bounds – even when I'm clearly not qualified," Albus said slowly. "And even if I were, I'll be rather too busy watching the game."
This time it was Minerva's face that lit up. "You're coming to the game? But that's great. If you'll be there, then there's no need for Severus to referee..."
"Perhaps. But in this case, I don't think it can hurt to be better safe than sorry."
"But..."
"Minerva," Albus cut her off, "is there truly nothing more important to you than winning at Quidditch?" He closed his eyes for a moment. Before Minerva could even begin to formulate a response, he continued, "I didn't mean for that to sound as crass as it did. What I meant was that you wanted Harry to play Quidditch and now he's going to play. But we have to make sure that he actually stands a chance at succeeding, even if some of those safety measures pose a risk to your aspirations of winning the Cup. Personally, I would spend less time worrying about the adverse circumstances and more time hoping that Harry might just rise to the occasion."
On most days Minerva appreciated the wisdom of Albus' words. Today she reserved the right to remain sceptical.
On the morning of the Gryffindor–Hufflepuff game she felt more than a little tense. She was not the only one, however. On her way to the Quidditch pitch she passed Quirrell, who looked terribly pale and thin or rather more so than usual. While Minerva waited for Lee Jordan to show up before taking her seat, she spotted Rolanda, who was speaking animatedly to a thoroughly bored-looking Snape.
"You can only release the Quaffle after blowing the whistle," she was saying as Minerva approached them.
"I know," Severus replied through clenched teeth.
"And you must watch out for..."
"An angry horde of Bowtruckles with a lice infestation would be capable of playing this game. You don't need to explain it to me – again," Severus hissed.
This seemed like a good time to cut in. "Sorry to interrupt, Rolanda. Could I have a quick word with Severus before the game?"
"He's all yours," Rolanda nodded and stormed off, glaring at the Potions master.
Who glared right back. "I must warn you that my patience for unsolicited advice is wearing dangerously thin," he informed Minerva irritably.
"No advice," she assured him curtly. "An appeal. Not to take advantage of this situation."
Severus looked smug. "Is this supposed to be your version of asking nicely?"
Minerva knew she shouldn't let him goad her. But knowing something and acting accordingly were sometimes two very different things. Especially between her and the Slytherin Head of House. "No. This is me telling you to conduct yourself in a manner that is appropriate and marked by true sportsmanship."
"There's just one problem with that, Minerva," Severus said and he seemed to relish every word. "I detest sports." He walked away, smirking.
Minerva tried to prepare herself for the worst, and she didn't have to wait long for it to take shape. The game had only just started and Severus had already awarded Hufflepuff two penalties. One was – unfortunately – warranted. (Minerva understood perfectly why George Weasley had felt the urge to send a Bludger at Snape, but she couldn't condone such behaviour.) Anyway, the second penalty was completely uncalled-for. Before Minerva's anger could really grow, Potter went into a dive, nearly knocked Snape off his broom (coincidence? Minerva didn't think so) and caught the Snitch.
Just like that it was all over before it had even begun.
The stadium exploded with cheers from the Gryffindors and some Ravenclaws. Lee Jordan screamed his head off before he left the stands to run onto the field and congratulate the Weasley twins.
Minerva stayed in her seat while the Quidditch pitch slowly emptied and the students headed back up towards the castle.
"I must say, that was a game to my liking. Short and sweet."
She turned around in her chair. "You know you can say it, Albus."
"Say what?" he asked innocently.
"I told you so."
"Ah, but now that you've said it, I don't have to, do I?" He winked at her, knowing full well that she couldn't resist that twinkle in his eyes.
Albus was attempting to save his reputation as a good chess player when his concentration was shattered. Quite literally. There was a knock, actually more of a boom, shortly before Hagrid burst into his office, taking the entire door with him.
The chess pieces dived for cover screaming, Minerva jumped to her feet in surprise, Fawkes ruffled his feathers indignantly, and Albus, eyebrows slightly raised, looked up at Hagrid, who was holding the door in his hand, clearly mortified.
"Oh, blimey! So sorry, Professor Dumbledore, sir! Didn' mean ter... I'll get this fixed fer yer in no time..."
"Not to worry, Hagrid." Albus gave his wand a little flick and the door flew out of the gamekeeper's large hands and reattached itself. "See, good as new. Now, what can I do for you? I dare say there is something rather urgent on your mind."
"It's not so much urgent as it's horrible. I jus' found a dead unicorn in the forest."
After all the noise from a minute ago, the headmaster's office was suddenly very quiet. Fawkes was the first one to make a small, mournful sound.
Minerva blinked, her gaze wandering slowly from the phoenix to Hagrid. "A dead unicorn? Are you sure?"
"'course I'm sure! I can bloody well recognise a unicorn when I see one," Hagrid bristled, then caught himself and looked miserable again. "Sorry, Professor McGonagall, didn' mean no disrespect."
"No, I'm sorry, Hagrid. You're the expert, of course. I just never heard of a dead unicorn before," Minerva admitted.
Surprised and then bolstered by her kindness, Hagrid stood (even) taller. "You an' me both. In all me years tendin' ter the forest, I never knew one ter even be hurt."
At this, they both turned to Albus. "I agree with Minerva. I wouldn't presume to know more about the Forbidden Forest than you do, Hagrid. That being said, I'd like you to show it to me if that's all right with you."
"'course, Professor, I can take yeh right ter it." The gamekeeper headed for the door, reaching for the doorknob gingerly.
As Albus rose from his chair, Minerva asked quietly, "Do you mind if I come with you?"
"If you wish," he nodded.
The three of them left the castle, passing Hagrid's cabin on the way. It looked as though he planned to get his boarhound, but then a loud noise from inside the cabin made him quickly reconsider opening the door. And so they entered the darkness of the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid was sure of the path they needed to take and Albus and Minerva followed without saying a word. There was precious little to say. Even less so when they reached a small clearing and Hagrid slowed.
The beautiful white coat of the unicorn gleamed in the night, but it was only a sad reflection of what it had looked like while still alive. The dark splotches of blood that sullied its purity were as wrong as anything Albus had ever seen.
Next to him, Minerva's breath hitched. She wasn't a very sentimental person, but there were unshed tears glistening in her eyes now. Clearly, she too felt that fundamental laws of magic and decency had been violated here. Albus gently brushed the back of her hand as he walked past her to have a closer look.
"What are you looking for, Albus?" Minerva whispered.
"Traces of the magic that did this." He knew, of course. He had known the moment Hagrid had told them. But there was always a chance, at least, that he was wrong.
Minerva shivered. "Then it couldn't have been another forest creature? Another Acromantula offspring perhaps…"
"Aragog wouldn' do this!" Hagrid protested vehemently, then paused to scratch his beard. "Also, wouldna be fast enough."
Albus straightened up again. "No, this was an act of both dark magic and sheer desperation. Which means it won't be much longer now."
"Until what?" Minerva asked, her face pale in the moonlight.
"That remains to be seen," Albus said, turning from her to Hagrid. "Will you take care of the body, Hagrid? There's nothing else we can do, I'm afraid."
"'course, I will. Leave it ter me, Professor."
Minerva hated that she was out of her depth here. "Couldn't we do something to protect the other unicorns in the forest?"
"It's nearly impossible ter make 'em do summat they don' wanna do," Hagrid explained sadly. "An' now they'll trust us even less than before."
"And for good reason. Let's hope their mistrust will be sufficient to keep them safely away." Albus patted Hagrid's shoulder (or as far up as he could reach) to thank him and then indicated to Minerva that they should start on their way back to the castle.
It was only after they had returned to his office that she spoke again. "Albus, you would tell me if you knew that… You-Know-Who was coming back, right?"
"I would tell you if I knew anything for certain and worth telling," he replied gravely.
She didn't seem to like that answer much.
"For tonight the only thing we need to worry about is finishing our game I think." Albus surveyed the empty chessboard in dismay. "Alas, it seems to have run off."
"Probably just as well." Minerva shrugged and then added with a crooked smile, "You were winning."
Minerva was late for breakfast. When she approached the High Table, everyone else was almost done eating. So they all had time to look at her, all except Albus, who wisely kept his eyes on his newspaper.
"There you are, Minerva." Severus didn't even wait for her to sit down properly. "We've been waiting for you all morning."
Her shoulders stiffened, but other than that she didn't acknowledge that she had heard him.
He continued anyway. "We've been arguing if the hour-glasses could be malfunctioning. I've been saying that that's not possible, but it does seem unfathomable that Gryffindor lost 150 points in one weekend. Care to shed some light on that for us?"
Oh, Severus could undoubtedly be cruel when he wanted to be. But Albus wasn't foolish enough to fight Minerva's battles for her.
"The hour-glasses are working perfectly as always," she finally replied. She sounded as though she had a cold.
"Then what happened, Minerva?" Filius asked. He did so more kindly, but that didn't make a lot of difference.
"I caught a couple of Gryffindor students out of bed the other night," Minerva explained briskly.
"Which students?" Severus kept pushing.
Minerva's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I hardly think that matters now."
"Was it the Weasley twins again?" Pomona suggested.
"But what could they have done this time to warrant such a punishment?" Filius joined in.
"I mean, what haven't they done? Sometimes I'm surprised this castle is still standing…"
"It was Potter, Granger and Longbottom," Minerva interrupted their speculations in annoyance. "And they were spreading lies about a dragon to get another Slytherin student into trouble. Does that satisfy your curiosity?"
Filius and Pomona fell silent, Severus on the other hand wasn't done yet. "If only someone had told you all along that Potter would be an insolent, incorrigible, nasty little rule-breaker."
Albus put down his paper and cleared his throat. "Will you look at the time? Don't you all have classes to get to? After all, we wouldn't want to deprive the students of their chance to earn some of those points back."
Pomona heaved a sigh while she got up from the table. "We'd need a miracle to stop Slytherin from winning the Cup now," she muttered.
"Hear, hear," Filius agreed.
Severus followed them without another word, looking pleased with himself.
When Minerva rose as well, Albus reached for her arm. "You haven't even eaten anything yet."
"I'm not hungry."
Since there was no stopping her, he let her go and walked with her to the Transfiguration classroom. "Honestly, Minerva, if this bothers you so much, why did you take 150 points? Don't you think that might have been a little… excessive?" He hadn't dared to ask her that the other night. He also hadn't figured out yet if it would make matters better or worse if he told her that there truly had been a dragon involved.
"No, because Severus has a point." Minerva looked just as surprised to hear herself say this. "Potter must have got the wrong idea when I got him that broom and he will never learn otherwise."
"Learn what exactly?"
"That he can't go sneaking around the castle at night like that."
Albus waited for her to unlock the classroom and followed her inside. "But Filius and Pomona weren't wrong either. The Weasley twins have done a lot worse and I can't seem to remember you punishing them in the same way."
"Fred and George Weasley are not genetically predisposed to run headfirst into danger. Also, it's a lot more dangerous now with," Minerva lowered her voice, even though there were no students here yet, "with the stone and everything else that's been going on."
In other words, she was merely trying to protect him in her own way. Unfortunately, Albus didn't think it would prove effective. But he felt a rush of affection for her regardless. "What if – because Harry is so 'genetically predisposed' – it would be more advisable to let him have the experiences he might need?" he asked both cautiously and curiously.
Minerva's eyebrows shot up. "He's an eleven-year-old boy, Albus. The only experiences he needs right now are to go to class, study for his exams, play some Quidditch and otherwise do as he's told."
Albus sighed, somewhat relieved that he had held off on mentioning that dragon. "I see your point."
"But I sound like a real stickler for the rules," Minerva admitted, grimacing, and she didn't even look when she pointed her wand at the blackboard behind her. Apparently, today's lesson was on Switching Spells.
"Well, you are – in a very caring sort of way."
"Filius and Pomona certainly don't care for the fact that I handed the House Cup to Slytherin for the seventh time in a row. They'll never let me live that down."
"Only because you never let anyone see you the way I see you," Albus said softly.
Minerva locked eyes with him across her desk. "Said the pot to the kettle."
He remembered saying that to her a long, long time ago and chuckled. "It appears we have that in common still. Which means that neither one of us is entirely alone in this. If that's any consolation to you. Though probably not as good as winning the House Championship."
"Fishing for compliments now, Albus?" she asked.
"Does that sound like me?"
Minerva glanced at the classroom door before leaning in closer. "It does when you know that making me say that you are more important to me than the House Cup will also make me feel better."
Albus smiled, glad he was still doing something right. "In that case, guilty as charged."
When Hagrid came by the Transfiguration classroom later, he did so without damaging the door or any of the other furniture, thankfully.
"Heard yer need ter hand out detention ter some o' the Gryffindor students," he said. "I could take 'em off yer hands. Could use some help – you know, with the unicorns."
Surprised, Minerva leaned back in her chair. "Are you sure you want to take four young students into the forest with you? It's not just the Gryffindors. Mr Malfoy will be receiving detention as well."
Hagrid scoffed. "I can handle Malfoy's kid. Would be doin' summat useful fer the firs' time in his life then. An' all of 'em will be perfectly safe with me."
Minerva refrained from commenting and thought about Hagrid's offer. The idea of sending first-years into the Forbidden Forest didn't sit right with her. But Albus seemed to think that such experiences could be valuable to them, Potter most of all. While Minerva still firmly believed the opposite, they actually came down on the same side on this one.
Because she knew one thing for certain. The only way to impress upon Potter how dangerous these little adventures could be was to let him actually experience the forest at night – fully supervised, of course. After all, Minerva had never forgotten her first time in the Forbidden Forest. Probably because she had nearly died that day. That wasn't about to happen to Potter, but she had a feeling that it would be a more memorable detention than writing lines.