Author's Note:
Greetings from Buffalo, New York! Storms like this aren't usually a big deal around here. But there is a lot of wind with this one that is causing power outages. That is why I am posting while I still have internet access. Stay warm everyone!
Minerva:
She eventually calmed herself down. There were still tears in her eyes, but she wasn't sobbing anymore. Dougal was alive under a different name. He forgave her. He still cared about her. She thought cancer was hard to come to grips with. But this was somehow harder.
There was a knock on the door. The nurses appeared. Jane was wheeling what Minerva recognized as a TV in. Emma was carrying a cosmetics bag.
"It's not good to stay too lost in one's head," Emma said. "So, we've brought distractions while the doctors read the lab work."
"I don't watch a lot of TV," Minerva said.
"Now is a good time to start," Jane said. "We have a whole library. Would you care for parliamentary intrigue or a witty lady detective?"
"The detective one I suppose."
"Thought so," Jane said with a smile.
Emma knelt on the bed.
"I always feel better after having my hair brushed. We'll have it washed another time but some talcum powder will do in a pinch."
Minerva leaned her head down. Emma carefully wove the brush through her greasy hair and add shakes of powder to it. It did feel lighter afterward.
"Do you show this much attention to all your patients?" she asked.
"We're a private clinic so Caith chooses who he wants, meaning we have fewer patients," Jane explained.
"What do you think of him?" Minerva asked.
"Don't believe anything you hear about him," Emma said. "We know he had nothing to do with anything in Northern Ireland. He may have been a spy though."
"We certainly treat enough of them," Jane muttered as she adjusted the TV.
"But the bottom line is he a brilliant, compassionate doctor who treats both his staff and patients well."
"That is a hard combination to find sometimes," Jane said.
There was a knock. Willard appeared with a clipboard.
"Have I interrupted anything," he asked politely.
"Just about to start Marple," Jane said.
"Perfect timing then," he said and put the clipboard on the table.
He was very professional in how he examined her breasts and glands. Minerva had had male healers before, so the process didn't bother her.
Willard faced her.
"So, your bloodwork does have all the markings of cancer. It is late in the afternoon and so I can't get an anesthesiologist in until tomorrow morning. I see no significant risk in waiting until then to start the surgery to remove the cancer."
It still hit her like a gut punch. She really did have cancer. Emma grabbed her hand.
"We're here for you," she said.
"Do you have any family we can call?" Jane asked.
Minerva shook her head. She then chose her words carefully. "It would take time to track them down. We had a massive row a couple of years ago over me putting my teaching over my health."
Emma nodded sympathetically. "Families are a complicated business."
"I can tell you're scared Professor," he said kindly. "I won't know for certain until I operate, but your form of cancer has become significantly more survivable compared to even ten years ago."
"Will I get sicker?" she asked.
"Once I have a full grasp of your condition, I can set up a timeline for treatment. You will be able to go home and come in for treatment. You will feel worse, you may lose your hair, but by the end, you will be healthy again."
She felt another crying spell coming over her.
Emma hugged her. She couldn't help but hug her back even as her right breast hurt.
"We're going to take good care of you," Emma said.
"Emma, stay with her for a bit," Willard said. "I suggest you try Marple, Professor McGonagall. The telly is what the doctor has ordered."
"I'll go," Jane said. She quietly left with Willard.
Emma held her for a minute longer. She got her breathing under control.
"Thank you," Minerva whispered.
"I wouldn't want my gran to be alone. I'm just trying to be there for you."
Emma grabbed the remote and took a seat. "I'll stay for the first ten minutes. Willard won't mind."
Minerva could see why the nurses thought she'd like it. It was about an older woman who used her observational skills and intelligence to solve crime. It was a genuinely pleasant distraction.
The nurses later appeared with a chicken and rice dinner and more ginger ale.
"We're off for the night," Jane said. "The night nurse is quieter but lovely. You're in good hands."
"Have a good night, Professor McGonagall," Emma said.
Minerva waved to them and dug into her dinner. It wasn't the tastiest thing, though she suspected it was bland on purpose, given her stomach problems.
A nurse with a large chest and thick curly blond hair pulled back appeared.
"Good evening, Professor McGonagall. I'm Vera," she said politely. "I'm the night watch. If you need anything, by all means, call."
"How does this thing turn off?" she asked. She was ready for bed after a couple of admittedly entertaining episodes.
She pressed the buttons and the screen went blank. "If you'd like some music, I can play some for you. McGonagall is Scottish, right? Caith happens to have a diverse collection of music CDs."
"I'd like that," she said.
"I'll be back when I'm done with my rounds."
Minerva finished her meal. It had been such a long day yet her mind was still racing. Dougal, cancer, and Dougal knowing she's a witch. It was enough to drive a person crazy.
Vera appeared an hour later with a few thin plastic square boxes and a black rectangular box.
"I have singing, instruments only, even one of just bagpipe music."
"The bagpipe one please," she said.
Vera pulled out a shiny circular disc and put it in the box. Music from her childhood played. She felt herself breathing easier and imagined her father playing the bagpipes.
"Goodnight, Professor," she said and saw her way out.
The music helped her relax enough to sleep.
…
Hermione:
She made her way to Finnegan's office. She had questions about Doctor Caith that she wanted answered.
"Hi there!"
Finnegan was walking behind her with a large box floating ahead of her. Her flowing red robes cinched with a black belt.
"I finally got the rest of my teaching materials in. It was obviously horribly tragic that Burbage died, but it is a minor inconvenience that the Death Eaters destroyed all of her stuff. I'm going to have to just use diagrams for the big stuff such as phone booths and how cars work."
Finnegan opened the door magically.
"But I bet that's not why you're here. Come in!"
There were boxes everywhere in her office. The only thing that appeared to be set up was a couple of photos on her desk.
Finnegan took a seat behind her desk and Hermione followed suit. "What can I help you with Hermione? I'm not used to the whole surname nonsense. We never do that at Ilvermorny, which might get me in trouble at some point here."
"Do you know if muggles know about magic?" Hermione asked.
Finnegan let out a short laugh. "Well, if that isn't a loaded question we tend not to discuss it in school. In fact, magical governments refuse to publicly acknowledge there are so many muggle groups who know about magic."
"There are really that many?"
"There are three major groups: The crazies, the rational muggles who see patterns in information, and the government workers. The smaller groups are those who were never obliviated properly who also tend to be crazy and those who married into magic but then left, though the government makes a greater effort to obliviate those."
"There are people who just figured out magic exists?"
"It's a little more complicated than that. Theoretical geniuses know some things cannot be explained with science alone. There are also people who just think there is something to the tabloid stories they see in the newsstands. Then there are those who work in intelligence-gathering agencies who are very good at hiding things. These rational muggles are extremely hard to find because they are capable of outsmarting wizards. Some will play dumb for example, if they think a wizard might be trying to obliviate them. No one knows how many rational muggles are out there."
"Wow," Hermione said. "I never gave it that much thought."
"There are some in my field who don't think magic will be a secret in the new millennium."
Hermione was completely shocked. "Really? Why?"
"I have some California-based friends who are paying very close attention to the development of this thing called the internet. It is like a massive electronic library without enough 'librarians' to keep order and anyone can put information 'online,' as they call it. Wizard governments think it sounds stupid because so many are pure-bloods who are used to just summoning information. Muggles aren't stupid though. The rational population is going to explode once they can connect the dots with other people who report seeing dragons as an example. Specialists in my field are working hard to convince governments to be more careful and at least triple their obliviator staff."
"Maybe I should have stayed in muggle studies."
"We don't cover most of this because it is currently only theoretical."
"What about McGonagall? What if cancer becomes common in wizards?"
"Well, if that isn't the million-galleon question," she said and sat back thoughtfully. "If I know magical governments, they're going to treat her case as a one-off and leave her alone. That might be the best thing for her."
"How so?"
Finnegan leaned forward and a serious expression came over her face.
"I can guess why you're asking, Hermione. You really need to stop asking these questions and keep your thoughts and theories to yourself. Not even Ron or Harry can know in case one lets it slip to the wrong person. Shacklebolt may be more reasonable, but he is bound by international statutes of secrecy to make sure any muggle who knows about magic has his or her memories wiped."
Hermione sat in silence as the revelations sank in. Finnegan weaved her fingers together on her desk and put her chin on them.
"I am a scholar of both worlds. I can tell something is coming as a result of Voldemort's reign. McGonagall's cancer might just be the start. These are things you'll have to think about once you're done with Hogwarts. For now, I suggest you focus on helping McGonagall get healthy."
"You're right," Hermione said.
"Enough lecturing, get to bed before I have to deduct points for breaking curfew. Which would feel incredibly ridiculous given the fact you saved the world only three months ago."
Hermione stood up. "Thank you, Professor Finnegan. You have given me a lot to think about."
"Please be careful. It may not be the world at stake this time, but that does not diminish the importance of the people affected."
"I know. Good night, Professor Finnegan."
"Good night, Hermione."
Hermione closed the door behind her.
She made her way back to the dormitory. Hermione knew Ginny would be mad at being kept out of the loop again. But this time it wasn't about them it was about making sure McGonagall got healthy. It hurt to keep secrets like this, but if Finnegan was right, it was something she'd spend the rest of her life getting used to doing.