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Minerva:

Minerva stared at the Sorting Hat while seated in her office. It remained as dead as ever. She had given the portraits a silencing stare when she arrived. At the moment she did not want the counsel of former head teachers. She knew Severus was probably biting back a remark so she was happy to let him stew for now.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in."

Pomona, Filius, Horace, Poppy, and Aurora Sinistra assembled in. Minerva had chosen Aurora to be the new head of Gryffindor because she knew the students would not take Alicia seriously.

"All students are in bed and the prefects are patrolling," Filius said.

"At least one thing went according to plan," she said.

"I did catch a Slytherin at the owlery. He insisted his father had to know his brother had not been sorted. The Mabery Kenton boy, whose brother is Destin. He's in the Hufflepuff dormitory."

"And throwing a fit," Pomona said. "I don't usually have to tell my students to play nice. But this boy was having a tantrum about being surrounded by 'weaklings.' It took a lot of effort to settle everyone down."

"The hat is creating more problems than it intended," Minerva said.

"Can it be fixed?" Aurora asked.

"I have already put out owls to specialists in charmed and enchanted objects. I have also written to the board that I expect to have a solution to the sorting problem by the next term as any attempt to sort now would interfere with the education schedules."

"But the hat didn't want to sort anymore," Pomona said. "Even if we somehow revive it, which is certainly outside my field of expertise, it may still refuse to sort."

"It is an enchanted object, not a being!" Horace snapped. "It just needs its memory wiped. It has survived hundreds of years of conflict. It just needs some care and attention and it should be as good as new."

"Scholars have studied the Sorting Hat," Filius said. "No one is entirely certain how Godric Gryffindor enchanted it. There is no duplication of whatever charm he used. Experts may come and try to fix it, but there are no easy solutions. Most enchanted objects have no free will but in the past, the Sorting Hat has expressed reluctance to sort the students. We do not know enough about the hat to know how to fix it."

"That is why I have called experts in," Minerva said. "I hope to have answers coming as soon as possible."

"You should have just shoved the hat on students," Horace grumbled.

"Do you think Albus would have done that?" Minerva snapped.

"You need to show a firm grip if you want others to respect you. Including objects."

"Horace, you're out of line! I had to choose between arguing with an object even Filius acknowledges we know very little about, or getting students fed and put to bed to start learning tomorrow. That is what Hogwarts is all about, isn't it? Not house allegiances, but learning how to perform magic."

"Here, here," Aurora said.

"Seconded," Filius said.

Horace crossed his arms.

"I suggest we all try to get some rest," Minerva said. "Tomorrow promises to be even more chaotic."

The teachers prepared to leave.

"Poppy, stay back please."

Minerva waited until all of the teachers were gone. Pomona regarded her carefully.

"I just sent an owl saying I decided I wanted to observe you for a few more days before you report to St. Mungo's."

"Thank you."

"I will be watching you, Minerva. I recognized the concealed gasp of pain when you were negotiating with the hat."

"I will go to St. Mungo's this week. That is a promise."

"I hope so."

Pomona gave her a penetrating stare and then left.

Minerva turned and opened a panel to her private quarters. A wave of exhaustion hit her. She undid her robe and then her upper undergarments. The jostling of the lump sent a violently painful spasm through her body. She lunged for the toilet in the adjoining room and vomited. Tears poured down her face when she was done.

"What is happening to me?" she cried.

The pain had abated in the morning. Taking deep breaths, she summoned an owl and wrote a quick note to Poppy requesting something for pain. Twenty minutes later, the owl returned carrying a small vial of greenish-yellow fluid with it. There was also a note.

"I had to treat four students caught dueling last night. Add three drops to a cup of water every six hours."

She pulled out a teacup and added the drops. It tasted salty. Then a numbing sensation came over her. It was a relief.

Minerva then had to deal with securing her chest. There were illusion tricks to make it look like she was wearing a bra, but she had never performed such magic. She didn't trust herself to perform any complicated spellcasting. Instead, she loosened it and wore one of her bulkier robes over it. She smoothed over the fabric to make it look intentional.

She went down for breakfast. She heard a student scream. Looking down a staircase she saw a terrified Ravenclaw first-year with her foot caught in one of the trick steps.

"The castle is trying to eat me!" she cried.

"Nonsense," Minerva said and used her wand to levitate the girl free.

"I'm not meant to be a Ravenclaw! I was always in remedial studies. How am I going to answer a riddle every time I want to go to the dormitory?"

"You will figure it out and the older students will help you."

"I hope so!"

The student followed her like a duck to the Great Hall. It was not something she usually allowed because she thought it was better that the students learned on their own. But for today she let it slide.

The hall was only a third full. Whispers followed Minerva. She ignored them.

Clara walked past her.

"Morning headmistress," she said brightly.

"I prefer Professor. Good morning to you as well, Clara."

"Would you mind asking the kitchens to whip up some coffee in the future? I'm sorry but I am not much of a tea drinker. A habit from growing up a Yankee."

"I shall certainly inquire about getting some coffee for the head table."

Clara laughed.

"No, you wouldn't want the students drinking it. Muggles claim it makes them bounce off the walls as if something like that happens in the muggle world at all."

Minerva was growing to tolerate her. Though barely.

Clara took a seat and Minerva helped herself to some eggs, toast, and an orange. She needed to start building up her diet even while she wasn't all that hungry.

Eventually, the Great Hall filled up. Other members of the faculty greeted her. The first-years sat at one end of each table, clearly terrified.

Then the owls came in. Some first-years yelled in alarm. A few Owls flew to the head table. Minerva recognized the Daily Prophet was being delivered.

"This is outrageous!" Hermione shouted.

Minerva spied Filius's copy in his shaking hands. There was an old photo of the Sorting Hat at the top with the headline: "Sorting Hat Dead: School in disarray after new headmistress ends sorting early."

"Far be it from Rita Skeeter to get a story right," Minerva said loud enough for everyone to hear.

Filius read the story. "The Slytherin student who sent an owl is being quoted as traumatized. Board members a vowing to investigate. People are mourning the loss of tradition."

"What people? She must have interviewed the drunks hanging out at the Leaky Cauldron to get that many sources in the last six hours. And what about my owl to the board?"

"Nothing about it," he said.

"You will need to put out a statement in the press," Horace said.

"I am aware of that. I've been deputy headmistress for twenty-odd years."

A letter in a gold envelope was dropped in front of her. She could guess what it was about.

"We the board of governors at Hogwarts demand a meeting at ten o'clock where you will answer for why the students were not sorted last night."

It was signed by all the board members.

"Well, I know what I'm doing at ten today," she said.

"I'm teaching seventh years then. They can manage without me if you need backup," Filius said.

"No, but thank you, Filius. This is something I need to handle on my own."

Minerva saw a question in his eyes about her planned visit to St. Mungo's.

"If you have a free period in the afternoon, I suggest we meet then."

"I'm done at three."

"Then it's settled," she said.

There was a scuffle breaking out at the Slytherin table.

"We don't want any dumb Hufflepuffs dragging down our defense against dark arts class!" a student shouted.

Horace groaned. "Why didn't I stay retired?"

The board table was set up in the outer chamber of her office. Scrolls were at each place. As sickly as she felt, Minerva was determined not to be sacked today.

The door burst open. Ten men (no women since two died during the war) in black robes with house crests marched in and took places at the table. Malfoy was the youngest while a couple were closer to Dumbledore's age.

"Usually, it is polite to knock when entering someone's space," she said tightly.

"It may not be yours for much longer," said one of the men whose face was mostly composed of wrinkles aside from eyes, and a mouth. "My great-grandson was supposed to be the fourth Dingle in four generations to be declared a Ravenclaw last night."

"I understand everyone is exceptionally frustrated by the Sorting Hat's abdication of duties," she said calmly.

Another member with large whiskers pointed at her. "You let it! I read the boy's letter! You chose to end the ceremony."

"I was merely trying to buy some time until a solution could be found."

"You should have shoved the hat on the students and threatened to burn it if it refused to sort them!" a board member with large muscles bulging through his robes said.

"That is not how I will conduct things here at Hogwarts," she said firmly. "Everything here from the ghosts to house elves have a right to respect and dignity."

"It is a hat, what is so hard about making it do its job?" Malfoy asked angrily.

"We know precious little about how the Sorting Hat was made. We do not what effects the fire caused by Voldemort had on it. I have called in every expert available to come and gather answers."

"Can you guarantee students will be sorted next term?" the board member with angular features asked.

"As soon as I have answers you will as well."

"This does not look good for you McGonagall," said the oldest member with age spots the size of sickles on his bald head. "We're thinking Horace Slughorn might be a better fit for the job."

The lump stabbed her at that moment. She let her right hand form a fist.

"I remember this time last year. I remember whisking away five first-years of muggle parentage who were throwing up and wetting themselves in fear after they were sorted and met with jeers from the so-called faculty. I was surprised Severus did not cause a greater stir. But now we know why. I refused to sign that letter you sent out assuring parents Hogwarts was safe. Safe for students of pure blood. During the last school year, I slept in bursts of single hours at a time. Always ready to put young students into an enchanted sleep or protect a student caught out after hours. While you sat in your comfortable homes hiding from the forces of darkness, I was fighting them. Some of you only chose the right side when it was beneficial. For the last forty years, I have been protecting the students from dragons, dementors, death eaters, a basilisk, and the faculty! I have looked death in the eyes many times as a teacher and my only thought was 'Save Hogwarts!'"

Angular Features clapped slowly. No one joined him. Malfoy would not look at her. Every one of the board members looked like they were made of stone.

"No one has suffered more to protect this school, than you Professor McGonagall," he said "The board is not unaware of this. I do believe emotions are overtaking judgment at this table right now. I find your intent to seek outside specialists to be reasonable. We shall discuss what to do about the Sorting Hat after seeing the report from the specialists."

"But she stopped the sorting!" Bulging Muscles said. "There needs to be punishment!"

"This will be noted on your record Headmistress. At the next official meeting, I intend to seek a detailed explanation for your decision. Right now, it is the first full day of school. I do believe the headmistress has many other things that require her attention."

"Understood Mr. Binns," she said and nodded.

The board members stood up in a huff and stormed out. No one took her notes. Only Binns lingered.

"Do not thank me, Professor," he said firmly. "I may have no use for my great uncle's devotion to history but even I can see a witch hunt was brewing for today."

She met his commanding gaze.

"I shall get back to work," she said.

"And I will let you," he said.

The door closed after him with a soft thud.

The portraits exploded in applause.

"Bravo!" several shouted.

"They're not in charge. You are!" someone else shouted.

"Thank you, now that's enough," Minerva said and waved her wand to vanish the table and chairs.

"You bought yourself some time," Severus said, unimpressed. "Bravo indeed."

"Who knew Cuthbert's lineage actually contained someone with a grounded perspective," another mused.

"Ignatius Binns has always been the most reasonable of the lot," Dumbledore said.

As Minerva moved around her desk, she felt the stabbing pain again. It moved to her armpits which felt very heavy all of the sudden. She gripped the corner of her desk.

"I do not need help," she said as she felt looks of concern upon her. "I need to put out a statement to the press, meet with Filius, and read the threat briefing. I will be fine."

"I can report you to St. Mungo's in a second," the one portrait said.

"Then why didn't you report Dumbledore's dead hand?" she asked angrily. "Your purpose is to serve my needs and provide me counsel. I can take care of myself!"

"If you say so," Severus said.

Minerva took a seat at her desk and started to write.