84. Choose to Love

"You look terrible."

"Thanks. Good morning to you, too, my friend, if that's what we are." Minerva grimaced as she entered Poppy's office.

"The mark of a true friend is to tell you the truth even when it's uncomfortable to hear," Poppy countered cleverly. "I'm calling it as I see it. So what's going on?"

"You know what's going on," Minerva hedged.

Her Christmas getaway with Albus felt like a lifetime ago. In reality it had only been two months. But time was their worst enemy right now, so her perception of it was highly subjective. Whenever Minerva thought of Albus' worsening condition (which was practically every minute of every day), things were moving frighteningly fast, but whenever something bad happened (which was also practically every other day), time seemed to pass excruciatingly slowly.

Following their return to Hogwarts after New Year's, Albus hadn't been pleased to learn that Rufus Scrimgeour had harassed Potter at the Burrow over Christmas. It sounded as though Potter had handled himself just fine, but of course Albus had blamed himself for not being there to intervene. Scrimgeour's mounting desperation wasn't surprising. Even after months of fighting against the Death Eaters the Ministry had nothing to show for it. People kept disappearing, which meant that Minerva kept having to deliver horrible news to students. Katie Bell was still in St Mungo's, Hogsmeade visits had been cancelled and even Horace had stopped having his Slug parties, though Minerva wasn't sure if he was doing that out of respect for the general mood in the castle.

"As horrifying as this war is, it's not enough to do that to Minerva McGonagall." Poppy pointed at the deep lines that ran across her face and at the light that was missing from her eyes. Minerva had taken one look at herself in the mirror this morning and quickly turned away. "I hope you're ready to open up or we don't even have to leave the castle."

It was Saturday morning and they had planned to skip breakfast in the Great Hall and go down to the village for a nice brunch and the chance to talk in private. Minerva desperately needed a friend, but she was also terrified of it. Albus' secret was not hers to share. What was she supposed to tell Poppy? How did one explain something that on most days was still impossible for her to fully comprehend?

"Help!" Horace Slughorn burst into Poppy's office. He was red in the face and looked as though he might pass out if he had to run any further. "Potter and Weasley… in my office… I don't know how… the mead… it was poisoned."

Minerva wasn't clear on what had happened exactly, but the last word was enough to get her and Poppy moving. They left a panting Horace behind and ran to his office where they found Potter kneeling next to an unconscious Ronald Weasley. While Poppy began to examine him, Minerva pulled Potter aside so he could explain.

"Was it this mead?" she asked and picked up a nearby bottle. When Potter nodded, Minerva sniffed at it. This was not her area of expertise. She needed Severus. Again. "Professor Slughorn was the one who poured Weasley's glass? Was the bottle new? Had it been opened before?"

"Er… yes, Professor Slughorn offered us the drinks. He said he had been saving that bottle since Christmas. He had meant to give it away as a Christmas present. I don't think anyone had opened it before," Potter replied hesitantly and a little distractedly, keeping one eye on Poppy and Weasley.

"A Christmas present? It's March!" Minerva snapped to get his attention. "Did Professor Slughorn say who he had planned to give it to?"

"Yeah," Potter said slowly and this time he looked at her worriedly, "to Professor Dumbledore."

Minerva closed her eyes for a second. She probably should have seen that coming. "How is he doing, Poppy?" she asked, turning to her friend. "Was he really poisoned?"

"Oh, there was poison in that mead all right," the matron nodded. "He needs Essence of Rue… for about a week or so. And bed rest. Then he should make a full recovery. But if it hadn't been for that bezoar, he'd be dead now."

Glancing from Poppy to Potter, Minerva managed a quick, grim smile. "Well done, Potter. Looks like we needn't have worried that your Potions skills could hold you back from becoming an Auror."

Potter's answering smile was rather thin. After nearly watching his best friend die that was understandable. Poppy conjured a stretcher and headed back to the hospital wing with her patient. Potter went with them. As they left, they walked past Horace who had finally made it back to his office as well. He was still breathing heavily. That could have been from the exertion as well as the shock. The look on his face as he saw Weasley lying on that stretcher told Minerva that he was innocent in all this.

Nevertheless, her voice was sharp when she asked him, "Where did you buy this mead?"

"From Madam Rosmerta," Horace replied weakly. That explained why it hadn't been checked. Everyone in Hogwarts and Hogsmeade liked the owner of the Three Broomsticks and it seemed inconceivable that she had anything to do with this.

"And you wanted to give it to the headmaster?"

"That was the idea, yes, I just forgot…"

If he hadn't, she and Albus might have taken that bottle with them to their little cabin during the Christmas holidays. Would Albus have noticed that there was something wrong with the mead? And if not, would Minerva have been quick enough to react the way Potter had?

She shook her head and shoved the bottle into Horace's hands. "Take this to Severus. I want to know what's in this!" Technically, Severus was no longer the Potions master, but the way Horace had acted this morning made Minerva hesitant to put her faith in him. Between the two of them she trusted Severus more. She didn't really have a choice.

After sending a quick message to Molly and Arthur, Minerva hurried to find Albus. He had told her to take her time and enjoy a long breakfast with Poppy because he had something important to take care of anyway. But he had said nothing about leaving the school. Minerva expected to find him behind his desk in his study and was surprised to discover that the room was empty. So was the headmaster's residence. Albus wouldn't leave the castle without telling her, so where was he?

As Minerva paused to think, she heard muffled voices. They were not coming from the headmaster's office. They were coming from the small storage room that was really nothing more than a large cupboard. She hadn't opened that door in ages, but nothing in there should be talking. Confused, Minerva walked over to it and pulled it open.

She let out a little scream. She couldn't help herself. It was as if she had walked into one of her nightmares. She was suddenly staring at a pair of familiar, piercing blue eyes, but they weren't quite real. They were painted. She had come face to face with a portrait of Albus Dumbledore. The Albus in the painting was looking at her inquisitively and she was definitely not dreaming. Because unlike in her dreams, the real Albus was standing right next to his portrait. It was probably one of the most bizarre things she had ever seen.

Albus (the real one) opened his mouth, but Minerva slammed the door shut before he could actually say anything. She should have been focusing on the fact that a student had been hurt and that she needed to talk to Albus. But right now all she could think to do was to get as far away from that cupboard as possible. To get that image out of her head.

Those eyes. So close to the ones she loved so much, so lifelike and yet not truly alive. But soon the only ones she would have left.

Minerva knew how this worked in theory. All headmasters and headmistresses were painted before their death and they could then spend as much time imparting their portraits with their knowledge, memories and feelings as they wished. The portraits were meant to serve and advise future Heads of Hogwarts Castle, so they were more than just pieces of art. They were imprints of the person they had once been in life and their level of sentience depended on the power of the witch or wizard they depicted. So the portrait of the most powerful wizard of all time would not be like any other portrait in existence.

Minerva desperately wanted to never see it again.

If she had stumbled across this scene in the cupboard years ago, she would have certainly thought it was a bit weird, perhaps a little funny even, but nothing more than that. Now she thought it was utterly terrifying. It was like the date had been set. Like Albus was preparing for his own funeral.

She had made it all the way down the corridor, completely lost in thought, before Minerva managed to stop herself. Molly and Arthur would be arriving soon and Albus needed to know what was going on. Grudgingly she turned around. She reached the gargoyle just as it sprang aside and Albus emerged. He must have surmised that she had been looking for him for a reason.

Once again Minerva didn't give him the chance to speak. "There was another attack on a student. Well, a student got hurt. Ron Weasley. But he wasn't the intended target," she said and then told him everything else she knew about the incident.

"You asked Horace to bring the bottle of mead to Severus?" Albus wanted to know. When she nodded, he continued, "Good, I'll go talk to him. Could you accompany Molly and Arthur to the hospital wing when they arrive and then bring them to my office?"

"Of course," Minerva agreed and turned to leave.

Albus caught her hand to stop her. "Minerva…" His tone was soft. This was not about Hogwarts business anymore.

"No," she cut him off quickly. "I'm not talking about that with you." She couldn't. Not yet.

As always he respected her wishes and let her go.

The news of what had happened spread quickly through the castle, but it didn't inspire the same kind of fear as the incident with Katie Bell had done. Weasley wasn't as seriously injured and some students seemed to think that it had been an accident rather than an attack. Minerva was just fine with that. The last thing they needed was a widespread panic. After talking with Molly and Arthur, Albus still had to speak with the governors to explain everything to them. And to talk them out of thinking about closing the school.

It was almost midnight when Minerva worked up the courage to enter the headmaster's residence again. Thinking about that portrait in the cupboard still made her feel deeply uneasy, but she wanted to know how Albus' conversation with the governors had gone. He was in the sitting room and he smiled at her softly when she walked in.

"Did they listen to you?" Minerva asked without preamble. She knew Albus would have impressed upon the governors that closing Hogwarts now would be a disaster.

"They did," Albus confirmed. "I gave them my word that I would put an end to these attacks."

Minerva lifted a brow. "How are you planning to do that?"

"I'm working on it. Separating the innocent from the guilty in all of this is more difficult than I thought. It would certainly help if one of these attacks were to actually reach me rather than accidental victims," Albus said, his eyes glittering almost angrily.

"So you think you were the target again?"

"I do."

"Poisoning a bottle of delicious mead that Horace was supposed to give to you?" Minerva shook her head. "I've never heard of a worse idea."

"I agree that they should really make more of an effort to kill me," Albus deadpanned.

Minerva made a sound that was somewhere between snorting and choking. "That's not what I meant."

"Hopefully we'll have more information before another attempt like this, good or bad, can be made."

"How? Where's that information supposed to come from?"

Albus thought about his answer long enough for Minerva to realise that he was choosing his words very deliberately. "Severus has a lead that I asked him to pursue."

"He's doing everything these days, isn't he?"

"Actually, he has neither been as successful nor as cooperative as I had hoped he would be, but that is between him and me." Albus' tone was so unusually disapproving of Severus Snape that Minerva didn't think to argue any further. If Severus was in the doghouse, she didn't want to join him.

There was no need to worry about that. The expression on Albus' face visibly softened as he decided that they were done discussing that part of their day. "Would you like to sit with me or are you going to bed?"

Minerva sat down next to him, thinking that maybe they didn't have to talk about the elephant in the room – or rather the elephant in the cupboard. She could tell that Albus wouldn't push her. But then she surprised herself by asking, "Do you talk to him… it about me?"

Albus looked relieved that she had decided to broach the subject. "I must admit I'm not sure what answer you'd be more comfortable with. But the truth is, a portrait of me that doesn't know about my love for you wouldn't be a very accurate portrait at all."

"But it doesn't need to know any of that to do its job, which is to advise the next Head of Hogwarts Castle," Minerva countered.

"Which will be you. So it seems to me that knowing and caring about you could be useful." Albus gave her a warm smile, but Minerva grimaced in response.

"Caring about me? Oh no! Tell me you're not teaching that portrait to constantly ask me how I'm doing."

Albus frowned in a bemused sort of way. "Would you prefer a rude portrait of me?"

"I'd prefer a portrait that doesn't try to be you," Minerva clarified.

"But it is me."

"No, it's a painting of you. You will be gone and that portrait will just be mocking me." She had started out strong, but by the end there was an audible tremble in her voice.

In an attempt to soothe her discomfort Albus gently reached for her hand. "Only if you're determined to look at it that way."

"How else am I supposed to look at it?" Minerva demanded.

"I rather like the idea that a part of me will still be here with you and be there for you even when I can no longer do it," Albus said, caressing her hand with his thumb.

Minerva was not reassured. "So you are teaching that portrait about me!"

"Well, you literally inserted yourself into our conversation today," Albus pointed out.

"Don't worry. That was the first and last time. I'm not going into that cupboard ever again," Minerva vowed.

"Oh, you can go in. He's slumbering if I'm not around. It would be too boring in there otherwise. We wouldn't want my portrait to be even more of a nut job than I ever was in real life." Albus chuckled. "Or he might drive you crazy when the time comes."

"I could always just tell him to shut up," Minerva said with a shrug. "Since he'll be honour bound to serve me."

"Sounds as though you'll get along just fine," Albus replied, his eyes dancing with a humour that finally allowed Minerva to relax a little.

"I'm sorry," she said after a beat. "For running off earlier. In my dreams that portrait always symbolises your death."

The merriment in Albus' eyes shifted to concern and understanding. "I see. But we're not there yet, so I think you should try to put it out of your mind. Perhaps you and Poppy can reschedule your breakfast for tomorrow?"

Minerva shook her head. "She'll be keeping a close eye on Weasley. And I wouldn't know what to tell her anyway." She sighed and rested her head on Albus' shoulder. "I'd prefer to just stay in with you."

"I probably shouldn't agree to stealing you away from Poppy," Albus said as he wrapped his arm around her. "But that does sound perfect to me."

Sadly, it was far from the first time Minerva had found someone crying in the corridors this year, but it was the first time it wasn't a student.

"Tonks?!" she exclaimed in surprise and hurried over to the young Auror. "Are you all right? What are you doing here?"

Tonks had been leaning heavily against the wall. She now hastily tried to wipe her face with her sleeve. She only managed to spread the tears and snot everywhere. In addition to the weight she had lost and the lankness of her depressingly grey hair, that made her look truly alarming.

"Never mind," Minerva decided and grabbed the younger women by the arm. "Come with me."

Tonks didn't resist as Minerva pulled her along to her office. For one thing, she didn't want the students to see one of the Aurors who were supposed to protect the school sobbing helplessly in the hall, and for another, Tonks deserved some privacy until she was feeling better.

With a gentle but determined push Minerva got Tonks to sit down. She then conjured a steaming mug of hot chocolate. These days they needed to comfort students so often that Albus had asked the kitchens always to have a pot on the stove. Minerva put the mug in Tonks' hand and took the chair next to her.

"If you just want to sit here and drink your chocolate, that's fine. But if there's anything I can help you with, please let me know."

Tonks stared at her as if she had never seen her before. In a way she hadn't. Not like this. They hadn't talked much during Order meetings and when Tonks had still been her student, Minerva had usually been forced to be very strict with her.

"Um…" She sipped her chocolate and winced when she burned her tongue. "I wanted to speak to Dumbledore actually."

"He's not in the castle."

"I know. You don't know where he is, do you?" Tonks asked hopefully.

Minerva sighed. "No, I'm sorry."

"And you didn't happen to hear from anyone else in the Order, did you?"

"Who exactly are you looking for?" Minerva asked in return.

Tonks quickly gulped down her chocolate, ignoring the pain of the hot milk. "No one in particular."

"But you're worried about… no one?" Minerva pried just a little.

"Well, I heard rumours," Tonks admitted in little bits and pieces. "I figured Dumbledore would know… I heard there was a pretty bad werewolf attack and… I was just wondering…" She faltered.

"I'm sure Remus is fine," Minerva decided to help her out.

Tonks nearly choked on her chocolate. Minerva was beginning to think that she had done more harm than good by giving her that particular beverage. "I didn't… I mean… you really think so?"

"I really do," Minerva nodded. "But if you're that worried, why don't you just send him a quick message? I know he's trying to avoid doing magic around the other werewolves, but there must be a safe way to do this."

Heaving a sigh, Tonks shook her head. "We're not talking right now."

"Why not?"

"Because he's a bloody idiot, that's why!" Tonks burst out. For safety reasons Minerva finally decided to take that mug of chocolate away from her before she could spill the rest.

She was torn what to believe. Remus was one of the smartest men she knew. Tonks on the other hand tended to be somewhat… erratic.

"You can be on his side. That's okay," Tonks said with a shrug, reading Minerva's face better than she had thought possible.

"I didn't say…"

"You didn't have to. You like him better, and you should. He's a great guy. Everyone knows that. Everyone except him!" Tonks suddenly flared up and once she had started talking, she seemed unable to stop. "He just refuses to believe it. He refuses to believe that someone could actually want to be with him! He insists that he's not good enough. But have you ever met someone as good as him? And as kind and funny and clever and… handsome?" At this point Tonks blushed and fell silent.

Now it was Minerva who looked at her differently than before. She had noticed that Remus and Tonks had hit it off right away, but she hadn't paid attention to how much. "You're in love with him," she realised.

"I…" Tonks hesitated and then shrugged off her embarrassment. "Yeah, tell me something I don't know. Or better yet, tell him!"

"Have you told him?" Minerva asked.

"Of course I've told him! And I know he feels the same way about me. But he thinks I can't possibly love a werewolf!"

Minerva was beginning to understand the problem. But just like Tonks had said, she really did like Remus. Before offering her opinion, she wanted to make sure that they weren't just talking about a crazy infatuation. Although she had seen the tears earlier and those had definitely been real. "Have you considered that this wouldn't be easy for either of you?"

She had already seen Tonks angry and upset, but the look of indignation on her face was new. "I know I used to be a bit… flaky back in school, but I'm not a silly, young girl anymore. I'm a grown woman, I'm an Auror and I know what I want. I don't care about money, age differences or some curse that is not his fault and has nothing to do with the man he really is. I care about him. I want him to be happy. I just… I just want him," Tonks finished desperately.

"Then you can't give up." The forcefulness in Minerva's voice clearly caught Tonks by surprise. Maintaining eye contact with the younger woman, Minerva leaned forward in her chair. "I know a thing or two about stubborn men who think they have to protect you from themselves. But that's not their choice to make. You're the only one who can decide what you can and cannot handle. If you're sure that you love him and that you're willing to accept the risk and take the bad with all the good, then you keep telling him that until he bloody well starts to listen. And he will."

"How do you know that?" Tonks whispered, practically hanging on her lips.

"Because there comes a time when we all realise that we don't want to die alone." Her voice strained, Minerva had to clear her throat and the lump of emotion that had lodged in there.

Tonks was still staring at her. Eventually she nodded. "I hope we can do some living before we get to the dying part, but… not alone sounds good." She bit her lip. "I really hope he's okay."

"Remus didn't just accept this task because the Order needed him to do it. He knows what he's doing," Minerva reminded her. "But I will ask the headmaster to reach out to you as soon as he returns or at least as soon as there's anything to tell."

"Thank you." Tonks managed a smile that still wasn't what it used to be, but it was honest. "I'm really glad I ran into you. You serve some nice chocolate and the advice isn't bad either."

Minerva mirrored her smile. "You're welcome."

Tonks got up and headed for the door, but she did so slowly and then she stopped altogether with her hand on the handle. "Hey, um, are you… okay?" She turned around and shot Minerva a curious glance. "That was some heavy stuff and it sounded as if you were speaking from experience. If you need to get something off your chest, I'm here. Solidarity and all that."

As tempting as that sounded, Minerva waved her off. "I'm fine. I've made my choices a long time ago."

"And do you regret them?" Tonks asked tentatively.

Minerva met her questioning gaze openly. "Not even for a minute."

It was an odd feeling, the way his own body was fighting against him while his soul was soaring. Perhaps he ought not to feel too victorious. Nothing had truly changed tonight and yet it felt like it had.

After all these years of searching and a lot of educated guesswork he finally had confirmation that Voldemort had planned to split his soul into seven pieces. Having witnessed that vital memory, Albus was now absolutely certain that Voldemort had succeeded. He also thought he knew what most of those Horcruxes were, albeit not where they were. But he had located another one tonight. Or he was very, very close. It really had been a good night. And the best part? He was no longer alone in knowing about this.

Harry knew. He knew about the Horcruxes. He knew what needed to be done and he was as ready as he could be at his age. Most importantly, Harry had understood that the prophecy wasn't making him do anything. Voldemort had chosen to make Harry his enemy and by doing so he had inadvertently also made sure that Harry had everything he needed to defeat Voldemort. He had the will and the strength and even if given the choice to flee, he would stand and fight because he wanted to. Because he loved so fiercely. And selflessly.

Speaking of love… Albus entered his bedroom and smiled when he found Minerva already asleep. She had never used to do that – sleep in the headmaster's residence when he wasn't there – but the ticking clock that was hanging over their heads had changed her mind. Despite his elation Albus could feel that clock ticking mercilessly. The numbness of his dead hand was spreading further and further through his weakening muscles and the blood in his veins burned. By now he was pretty good at ignoring the pain and soldiering on. He had almost turned a blind eye to it at times. But tonight he had taken an important step towards accepting his fate.

It was almost as though a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders now that he had shared most of his knowledge with Harry. Only one terrible truth remained. The eighth piece of his soul that Voldemort had never intended to split off. The Horcrux that should have never been. That burden Albus would continue to carry alone and he was glad to do so if it meant that Harry didn't have to until the time had come. Not telling him before then was certainly a risk. As much as Albus wished he could be there with Harry, be with him at the close, it didn't seem likely that his body would let him. On a night like tonight he felt hopeful that, with or without him, Harry would find his way.

Albus got into bed carefully. Minerva looked so peaceful. No signs of any nightmares. He should let her sleep, but he couldn't help himself. He wanted to be close to her, touch her, hold her.

Naturally, it woke her up, but she didn't seem to mind. "Is everything all right?" she muttered sleepily and willingly shifted to settle in his arms.

"Everything's fine," he told her quietly as to not rouse her further.

Instead of being reassured and going back to sleep, Minerva's eyes fluttered open fully. "But something happened. Something… good?" She said that word as though it was a foreign concept to her.

"What makes you say that?" he asked, amazed by her perceptiveness.

"You look happy. You've never once looked happy when you've returned late."

"I'm here with you. That's plenty of reason to be happy," Albus replied, his lips brushing her skin. "But I may have finally found what I was looking for and I also had an impromptu late-night lesson with Harry that went very well. Perhaps it was even our last one."

Minerva's eyes widened further. "Because he's learned what you wanted him to learn or because…?" She didn't finish her question and she didn't have to.

"A little bit of both," Albus admitted.

"It hasn't been a year yet," Minerva pointed out, jutting her chin out defiantly.

That deadline had only been a rough estimate, but Albus decided not to argue about that. "No, it hasn't. But I've been thinking…" He broke off.

"What?"

"Never mind. You wouldn't want to hear this and we don't have to talk about it tonight," Albus decided.

Minerva propped herself on one elbow, her eyes glistening in the dark. "If it's on your mind, then yes, we have to talk about it. Perhaps I don't like to hear it, but I want to."

Smiling softly, Albus brushed a loose strand of hair back behind her ear. "I think I would like to be laid to rest here, at Hogwarts. This has been my home, my life, my reason for being. It's where you are. I realise it shouldn't matter to me once I'm gone, but there is no other place I could imagine spending the rest of eternity."

He had expected Minerva to need some time to process this. His funeral was not a subject that would make her happy. But there seemed to be more than that to her expression. "You don't approve?" he asked.

"It's a beautiful thought," Minerva hedged. "But the Ministry might not agree. No headmaster or headmistress has ever been buried on school grounds."

Albus raised a brow in disbelief. "Are we really going to pretend that you care what the Ministry wants?"

Minerva huffed. "Fine, I don't care. I'm being selfish again."

"How so?"

"Of course you want to be buried at Hogwarts and you should be. This wouldn't be the great school it is today if it hadn't been for your protection, your guidance and your determination to change things for the better. It's just… walking past your grave every single day or seeing it every time I look out of the window... I'm not sure if I'll be strong enough for that."

"Ah, I hadn't considered that." Albus knew what he wanted, but not hurting her would always take precedence over his own wishes.

He opened his mouth to say so, but Minerva lifted a finger to stop him. "Don't you dare change your mind because of me. I'll manage." She bit her lip. "Or maybe I won't. But the location of your grave won't be the determining factor. That won't change anything about my brokenness without you."

He didn't know what was worse: her words or that she said them almost matter-of-factly. As though her misery and suffering were already set in stone. It was unlikely that he could convince her not to think like that, but he had to try at least. He met her gaze and held it like the single most precious thing he owned. "Loving you for all these years has been a gift I never deserved. You have filled my life with so much light and joy and with more passion and hope than I ever thought a heart could hold." He pressed a hand to her chest. "I want you to promise me that you'll feel all of that again after I'm gone."

They stayed that way for the longest time, with his hand resting on her heart and her eyes searching his face. He was patiently waiting her out while she stubbornly refused to respond.

Eventually Minerva gave in. "I don't think I can promise that," she said hoarsely.

"Promise you'll try," Albus pressed.

"I…" she cleared her throat, "I don't want to." Her eyes were begging him to let this go.

For once he ignored her pleas. "I'm not saying you must learn to love again. I would very much like to keep you all to myself. I'm just asking you not to stop loving yourself. Please. Live for me. Smile for me."

She looked as though this was the hardest task she had ever been given, but Minerva finally nodded.

"There you go," Albus said happily.

"I only agreed to trying," Minerva was quick to remind him.

He moved his hand up to cup her cheek. "Yes, but we both know that Minerva McGonagall never backs down from a challenge."

Albus leaned in to kiss her long and deep enough to silence all the aches in his body.

Minerva's smile was a bit shaky, but it was, for all intents and purposes, a smile.

A/N: Almost exactly three years ago I published the first chapter of this story. I was so excited to explore Minerva's story and her life with Albus, I wish I could go back and start all over, now that I'm this close to the end. If you're still reading this, if you're still with me, thank you! Also, brace yourselves …