Moving on to Deathly Hallows very soon! As always thank you for the kind reviews! I can't believe people have been reading this since 2019!


5 July 1997

Since the attack, Minerva had managed to keep her family at arm's length hoping that they would stay in Caithness rather than put themselves in danger by travelling to see her. She had urged them to follow the Ministry's recently published article delineating a list of precautions all wizarding families should take. It was very similar to the one that had been published in 1970 and a Ministry decision that Minerva actually supported - a rarity nowadays.

Yet, Malcolm had not been convinced by the message Minerva had sent him. Nor had he listened much to Minerva's excuses of being too busy with school-related matters, which largely consisted of planning how students could get home as quickly and as safely as possible, as well as meticulously checking each and every floor at Hogwarts for passages and items that might allow any unsavoury character from gaining entry.

So, now at almost 9 o'clock in the evening, Minerva was only just making her way up the stairs to the castle doors after a quick trip to see Malcolm in Hogsmeade. It had been a strange hour with many long stretches of silence. Rosmerta had apologised profusely to her, as she had been doing for the few days since the incident. Malcolm had said how sorry he was, and several others whom Minerva barely knew had also come up to her while at the Three Broomsticks.

And though Minerva knew she should appreciate the sentiment, all she wanted to do was ask them to leave her in peace. She did not want to be constantly reminded that Albus was no longer with them. She did not want to hear apologies or receive sympathetic looks and pats on the arm. And she could not bear having another conversation with someone where long minutes of silence would worm their way into the conversation because no one knew what to say to her.

All Minerva wanted, was to be able to immerse herself in her work. Undoubtedly, the time would come when she would have to deal with the fact that Albus was gone. But now was not that time. Minerva was sure that if she had to sit, right now, with the guilt and the grief of losing her friend, one of her dearest and closest friends other than Elphinstone and Pomona, her heart would break.

"Professor McGonagall?"

Minerva jumped slightly and looked up. She realised she had been so lost in thought that she had not noticed that her feet had carried her to the gargoyle corridor. Hermione Granger was standing in front of Albus' office. It seemed as though she had been waiting there for Minerva to turn up.

Minerva cleared her throat. "Yes, Miss Granger?" she said.

"Madame Pomfrey wanted me to let you know that Bill Weasley has just been given a clean bill of health."

Minerva nodded. "Right," she said. "Erm—thank you, Granger," she added.

Granger nodded, and Minerva was aware that the girl still had not moved and was eyeing her carefully - as though she was hesitating and wanted to say something more.

"Was there anything else, Miss Granger?" Minerva asked, inwardly hoping that her words would encourage the girl to move on.

Granger opened her mouth, closed it again, and then opened it once more. "I—I'm sorry, Professor," she said, "about Professor Dumbledore."

Minerva nodded and pursed her lips briefly so that Granger wouldn't see her bottom lip tremble. "Me too," she said eventually. "Now, I think it best you get to your dormitory, Miss Granger. It is almost past curfew."

Hermione Granger nodded. "Goodnight, Professor McGonagall."

"Goodnight, Miss Granger."

Hermione Granger hurriedly made her way to the Gryffindor tower, leaving Minerva alone in front of the stone gargoyle guarding the Headteacher's office. She had not been up since the night it had happened. She found that every time she thought of going up, she could not. She would stall in front of the gargoyle knowing that she would have to confront the room by herself at some point - that she would have to speak with the portrait hanging above what used to be Albus' desk.

Minerva hovered at the entrance to the staircase.

"The password has not changed," came the gargoyle's voice. Although the stone features could not move, Minerva could feel the gargoyle's eyes on her as though it knew exactly what she was finding hard.

There was a long silence, and then Minerva finally cleared her throat. It had to be done eventually, she thought.

"Tartan," she whispered hoarsely.

The gargoyle moved to reveal the ascending spiral staircase. A few seconds later and Minerva was standing outside the door to the circular office. For the first time since it had happened, she was now by herself, and with no pressing tasks to distract herself and deal with anymore, she was now well and truly alone with her thoughts.

Mustering her strength, Minerva pushed open the wooden door to the study and let it swing on its hinges. A small creak, a gently thump, and then nothing. Even the portraits were silent in their frames as they watched her walk into Albus' office - her office now.

She walked slowly to the end of the room where a large mahogany desk stood magnificently. The throne-like chair behind it was pushed back as though waiting for its occupier to come back and sit down again - but he never would.

"Headmistress?"

Minerva did not pull her eyes away from the desk, instead taking in the paper papers scattered across the tabletop and the large mug of half-drunk cocoa set right in the centre along with a sherbert lemon and a pair of knitting needles with a half-knitted woolly hat. She would have to move them at some point, she found herself thinking.

"Professor McGonagall?"

Minerva closed her eyes briefly and swallowed back the lump that had begun to form in the back of her throat. Then, just as quickly, she opened her eyes again and looked to the portrait where the voice had emanated from.

"My apologies, Armando," she said, the slight tremor in her voice betraying the calm facade she was so desperately trying to maintain. "How can I help you?"

He looked at her in a sad knowing way, then indicated with a tilt of his head to the empty portrait sitting above the desk which Minerva now had her back to.

"He will be back soon," was all the previous Headmaster said. "We can give you some privacy if you so wish?"

Minerva didn't know how to reply but it seemed as though Armando was not waiting for one. He nodded gently at the portraits surrounding him who followed his lead, bowed their heads respectfully to Minerva, and then stepped out of their portraits to their second ones.

Barely a minute had elapsed when a voice cut through the unsettling silence in the office.

"My dear Professor McGonagall..."

Minerva closed her eyes and looked down at the floor. She knew she had come here for this specific reason. Yet, now that she was here she did not think she could face him.

"Headmaster," she answered in a strained voice, her eyes avoiding the portrait holding the picture of Albus with his silver hair, blue robes, and golden half-mooned spectacles he had worn ever since she had first met him at school.

"I am no longer Headmaster, my dear," he corrected her gently. "The title has now been passed into your most capable hands."

Minerva felt tears well in her eyes but she did not want to cry. At least, not now, and not in front of him.

"You were quite remarkable that evening," he said, filling in her silence. "Thank you for helping."

If not for the anguish and turmoil inside of her Minerva could have laughed. Helping? What help had she been that evening? Certainly, she had been of no use to Dumbledore - to Albus; her best friend. If anything she was the one responsible for the mess that had become of that evening, and the tragicness of it all. She had not been there for the person who had been with her since the beginning as a mentor, and most importantly as a friend.

Minerva felt her bottom lip tremble and she briefly closed her eyes before turning to face the portrait, the sparkling blue eyes still as realistic and piercing as they had been in life. The shock of it almost made her gasp however all that happened was that she swayed slightly and had to look away again.

Dumbledore smiled sadly, the unspoken words flying between them palpable in the air.

"I should have done more," she said finally, for the first time able to use her voice. "I could have helped you."

"Nothing more could have been done, my dear," he said gently. "And you did the most important thing. You protected your students."

"But I—" she stopped and felt her voice catch in her throat, "I didn't even get to say goodbye."

He looked at her sadly over his spectacles. "I know."

"All these years..." she cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, Albus."

"There is nothing to forgive, Minerva," he said, clasping his long slender fingers onto his lap. "And I am sure that in life, all that needed saying had been said, and what wasn't said was known. I respected you entirely, my dear, as a teacher, as a friend, Deputy, and a future Headmistress. Hogwarts would not be Hogwarts without you, Minerva. I very much enjoyed the years we worked together side-by-side."

Minerva swallowed, overcome by emotion. "I too, Albus," she managed to say, as her throat constricted and two more tears trickled down her cheeks. She wiped them away and was silent for a minute. Slowly the rest of the portraits began to filter into their frames again.