Shorter Author's Note:
If anyone knows how I can get permission to use a behind-the-scenes picture of Maggie Smith reading The Daily Prophet in a wheelchair while filming Half-Blood Prince, you will get to name a character in this story. I do not want to get this story axed for breaking the rules.
I feel it is important to remind readers this is not an accurate representation of cancer. This is how I interpret cancer appearing in the Wizarding World.
I never really liked the epilogue or The Cursed Child so I do not feel any obligation to adhere to its timeline.
Minerva:
She had purchased some new robes specifically for the welcoming feast. She didn't want to wear her usual emerald robes to suggest favoritism for Slytherin. Thinking of Albus, she elected on a purple set though in a deeper shade closer to plum. Just in case she spilled something on herself between then and now she pulled out one of her plain robes to wear while she went over preparations one last time.
Changing out of her nightgown she noticed what had been causing her some pain in her chest. It was a lump in her right breast. She gasped in pain when she tried to feel the full shape of it. The lump appeared to be the size of a large pea. Minerva loosened her bra and so less pressure would be put on the lump. She needed to find Poppy.
It was getting more labor-intensive to use the stairs. It had to be related to the lump. How could something develop at this stage of her life though? She racked her brain for curses that could cause this. Most spells had immediate effects. Food? Severus had managed to make sure nutrition was never a concern for anyone during the occupation. Poison? The castle fortifications were one of the first things she had restored the minute everyone felt capable of doing so. None of this made any sense!
She was panting way too much for her liking by the time she reached the infirmary door. After three knocks, Poppy appeared. She was already dressed for the day.
"I'm not surprised to see you," Poppy said with a sigh. "We've all started to worry."
She let her in.
"Everyone?" she said in annoyance.
"You were never the best liar dear. So, let's see what I can do for you. I'm thinking a Pepper-up potion, a supplementary nutritional potion, and some bed rest on the weekends."
"It's not that simple. Poppet, I have a lump on my right breast."
Poppy turned in surprise. She beckoned her to the examining area.
"Show me."
Minerva was expecting this and had worn a button-down robe to provide easier access.
Poppy lit up her wand and put her nose to Minerva's chest. If anyone else had done this to her, she would have been mortified. But Poppy was only a few years older than her and they knew of one another as students.
"Does it hurt it touch?"
"Yes."
After a couple of minutes, Poppy stepped back. "This is beyond my field of expertise. I think you need to go to St. Mungo's."
"Not until tomorrow," Minerva pleaded. "I need to see the feast through!"
"I really don't want you keeling over mid-sorting either!"
"I'll delegate more today. I'll let Filius lead the board of governors on a tour of the castle. I'll take it easy. I promise!"
"I know how much starting the new term right means to you," Poppy said with a sigh. "If you promise to cut back, it can wait until tomorrow."
Minerva buttoned up and threw her arms around Poppy.
"Thank you!"
"But because I don't trust you to back out, I'm sending an owl to St. Mungo's with my observations and to expect you tomorrow morning."
"Fair enough," she said with a suppressed sigh.
Poppy opened a cabinet and pulled out a tiny vile of glittery powder.
"Put a shake of this in your tea."
Minerva eyed it. "Dragon claw powder?"
"The real thing. It should help with your energy."
"Thank you, Poppy."
"I really want a normal school year. That includes a healthy headmistress."
Minerva nodded in agreement.
…
She regarded her reflection in the wood varnish of the Hufflepuff table. She really did look more tired. The powder was helping, but it didn't vanish the extra wrinkles or bags under her eyes.
"We're going to manage just fine this year!"
Minerva turned to see Filius standing in front of her.
"I agree wholeheartedly."
"I do wish we could have sacked Malfoy from the board," he mused.
"He agreed to step down next term. His arguments for continuity were very persuasive among the wealthier members of the board."
"I know."
"You're certain you can lead a tour of them? These old wizards aren't afraid to make their opinions heard."
"Of course, I am," he said.
"They will ask why I'm not leading."
"And I will say because I fought to take on the task. I will tell them you struggle to let go of your deputy headmistress duties as headmistress. I will be honest to some extent."
"But not others I hope."
"I trust you, Minerva. I trust that you will take care of yourself."
She couldn't look at him at that moment. "I need to go to St. Mungo's tomorrow. Poppy all but blackmailed me to make sure I do."
"So, it is not just you running yourself ragged in your quest for perfection."
"I wish it was."
"I'm here for you Minerva," he said and levitated off the ground. "I will help you in any way that I can. All you have to do is ask."
He patted her shoulder.
"Thank you," she said and he floated back down.
The doors suddenly burst open. A witch with sandy blond hair dressed in blue with a gold cincher belt in her mid-twenties appeared. She had a ratty-looking beaded satchel slung across her shoulders.
"Professor Finnegan," Minerva said, surprised. "I thought your work visa was still being held up by MACUSA. We weren't expecting you for another three days."
"I know. But then a clerk recognized my name and asked if I had taught a Julip Needleweed. With a name like that of course I remembered I had especially because it was last year. It turned out he was his cousin. So, we talked and talked and he became more and more charmed but not magically, because that is illegal. Anyway, long story short, he worked some clerical magic to get me here in time. Yay!"
The dragon claw was barely keeping a headache from growing.
"This is Clara Finnegan, our new muggle studies professor and second cousin to one Seamus Finnegan."
"Hello Professor Finnegan," Filius said gamely. "I'm Filius Flitwick, the charms professor. Would you like for me to show you to your lodging?"
She waved. "Call me Clara. I'd appreciate it!"
"Be back in an hour," Minerva said.
"Of course," he said as they left.
Filius gave Clara a conspiratorial smile as they left. Minerva suspected she was going to be the butt of a joke about strictness even with her faculty.
She felt a stabbing pain again from the lump. She really did need to get this addressed.
…
It was rare that she got to greet the older students as they came in. It was a wonder to watch as hugs and high-fives were exchanged. Hermione and Ginny were trying very hard not to be the center of attention at the Gryffindor table. The Slytherins were more muted while the Gryffindors were the loudest. Some students did look anxious but most looked excited. Minerva breathed it in. She had missed this.
Minerva watched her faculty. She could tell Pomona, Filius, and a few others were thinking the same as her. Alicia was playing with her hands, clearly uncomfortable being on this side of the head table. Talis Ogg, her transfiguration department replacement looked impatient. Madame Maxime had recommended him and warned her not to ask if the rumors of him being part vampire were true. Clara was watching with wonder as she was enjoying the experience of opening a school year at Hogwarts for the first time. Everyone looked ready to start a new school year.
The door opened and the first years, all shaky and small walked down the aisle. The Sorting Hat was placed on the stool and it sang:
"We are back!
Hogwarts is safe for learning again
With great thanks to our headmistress from the Glen
And the one who could have been a Slytherin.
I am tasked with sorting you first years to a house
But heed my words you are more than the badge on your robes
Where your dormitory is does not show what your future bodes.
Everyone should be compassionate like a Hufflepuff
Brave like a Gryffindor,
Cunning like a Slytherin
Brilliant like a Ravenclaw
Here my words closely:
Choosing is my job but so is yours
Evil or good
Friendship or alienation
What you decide now may affect the fate of many.
So ends my song!"
The castle was perfectly silent. Eventually, Clara started clapping
"What a cool way to be sorted! Bravo!"
The rest of the school joined in.
Minerva appreciated the witch's intervention.
Flitwick read from the parchment.
"Frank Bergerell."
A boy with long mousy blond hair in need of a haircut stepped forward in clearly secondhand robes. He looked like he was on the verge of crying.
The hat was on him for thirty seconds.
"SLYTHERIN!"
The applause was lackluster. Frank ran to the table. Minerva wondered what was going on with the hat.
"Indy Bonner!"
A girl with red hair skipped to the hat.
"RAVENCLAW!"
The Ravenclaw table was far more welcoming and patted her on the back.
"Philip Brown."
A boy with auburn hair stepped forward cautiously.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
The Gryffindor table erupted.
"Jolene Cless"
A girl with shiny jet-black hair in a braid sashayed forward.
"SLYTHERIN!"
The Slytherin table let out a more approving applause as she rushed forward.
Minerva spotted Clara looking on with barely concealed disgust.
"Minerva please stop this!"
McGonagall looked at the hat.
"I have failed students! I take some blame for putting Riddle in Slytherin where his sense of cunning was encouraged. Do you think things might have turned out differently if I had put him in Ravenclaw? What of Snape and so many others who were never given a chance to see what they were capable of if they had been encouraged to pursue a secondary talent."
All eyes were on her.
"I think Voldemort burning you has had an adverse effect on you."
"You're not wrong and neither am I. You are the headmistress! You can choose to end the ceremony."
"Upend hundreds of years of tradition? The board would have me sacked the next day!"
"I don't see them here! I know what is going to happen tonight to the first kid I sent to Slytherin. I don't have a choice. You do!"
Minerva regarded the very scared first-years and equally unnerved older students.
There was no easy choice to make and at that moment the lump wobbled. Minerva sighed dramatically to hide how it was caused by pain.
"The Sorting Hat is having an identity crisis," she said. "We will try to do the sorting at another time. Meanwhile, I will ask all first years including those sorted to step forward in an orderly line. We will count off by four. All ones will go to Hufflepuff. Twos to Gryffindor, Threes to Ravenclaw, and Fours to Slytherin."
Filius stepped forward and started counting the students.
"Thank you, Minerva!" the hat said.
"This is not over. The board will expect the students to be sorted."
"Not necessarily."
It let out an odd humming sound.
Minerva stepped around the head table and rushed to the Sorting Hat. She held up the hat. It let out a garbling sound.
She knocked off her own hat and thrust the Sorting Hat on.
"You will need muggle medicine," it whispered.
Then the hat stopped moving. The brim stayed open when Minerva pulled it off.
The Sorting Hat was dead.
What a way to start her tenure as headmistress.