Update number 2 as promised :)

20th November 1993

"Will he be all right?" Minerva asked, looking at the immobile figure of Harry Potter lying in a small bed.

"He will be just fine," Poppy said. "But really now, those creatures will have to go. If the Headmaster had not stopped his fall—well, it would have been a very different story."

A small shiver ran down Minerva's spine as the memory of Harry free-falling towards the Quidditch Pitch surfaced in her mind again. It made her feel ill just thinking about it, let alone considering what could have happened if Albus had not spotted the boy so quickly.

"Bed rest and chocolate is what this boy needs," Poppy continued, putting down some pillows and then marching briskly to her storecupboard. She picked out two phials of smelling salts and looked at them carefully before walking back to Harry's bed. "This should do the trick," she murmured, placing the bottles on the bedside cabinet. "Do you suppose his aunt and uncle...?"

Minerva shook her head as Poppy trailed away. "I have already written to them," she said. "Though I very much doubt I will receive a reply." Indeed, so far, all of the letters she had sent to the Dursleys had remained unanswered. She had never once received a letter asking for further details on Harry's injury or if he had recovered yet. The only person who had ever asked about his well-being was Molly Weasley at the end of the previous year.

"How awful," Poppy said, sadly.

Minerva nodded and the other witch sighed, before turning back to her patient. She opened the bottles and shook them under Harry's nose. At that very same moment, the doors to the Hospital Wing opened.

"Where is he?"

"I can see—"

"—in that bed—"

"—Harry!"

"Oh no—"

The whole of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, with the addition of Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, burst through the doors and hurried into the Hospital Wing.

"Mr Weasley you are not coming in until you have cleaned those boots!" Poppy snapped, shooing the guilty party out of the room. She then made sure the rest of the Gryffindors were giving Harry enough room, before checking George's boots to see if they were of an acceptable standard yet.

As Ron and Hermione passed Minerva, Minerva stretched out her arm to stop them.

"Are we not allowed to...?" began Ron, with a frown.

"We just want to make sure Harry is all right, Professor," Hermione piped in.

Minerva nodded. "I understand," she said. "However before you join Mr Potter I wanted to make you aware that—"

"The Nimbus!" Ron interrupted, his eyes widening as he noticed the splintered wood in the bag Minerva was opening.

"Professor Flitwick located Mr Potter's broom near the Whomping Willow," Minerva continued, her heart sinking a little as she said this. "He collected all of the pieces and brought it back to the castle a few minutes ago."

"Can it be fixed, Professor?"

Minerva shook her head. "I am afraid not, Miss Granger. Once broken, brooms seem to remain irreparable."

Ron looked aghast and Hermione just looked sad. "Poor, Harry," she murmured, just as there was some noise from the small group gathered around Harry's bed.

"I think he's waking up," someone said.

Minerva, Ron and Hermione looked to where Harry was currently resting.

"I think it's best if we tell him," said Ron, earning him a weak nod from Hermione. "If that's all right, Professor?"

Minerva nodded and handed him the bag of splintered wood.

A few hours later and Minerva was sitting in one of the high winged-back armchairs in Albus' office. Her legs were crossed and she was resting a mug of tea on her kneecap.

"It was lucky you were there," Minerva said, as she stirred her tea absentmindedly. She looked up at Albus who was starring into the flames, his chin resting on the tips of his pressed fingertips. "Will they be removed?"

He shook his head. "Unfortunately not," he said quietly. "The Ministry believes they could still be of use."

"They have been of no use so far," Minerva answered. "Black has slipped past them once already, and they have attacked and affected several of our students."

Albus sighed. "Cornelius has agreed that they will be positioned further away from the school grounds."

"Oh, really?" Minerva said, rolling her eyes. "Well, how generous of him."

"He seemed to think so," Albus replied quietly.

They were both silent for a minute — Dumbledore looking pensively into the flames while Minerva watched him carefully.

After a small while, Albus looked at her. "Hm?" he said gently.

Minerva looked down at her mug briefly, before meeting his gaze again. "I don't think I have seen you that angry before," she said.

He nodded softly but didn't say anything.

"I'm surprised they even came back after that," she added.

"Have you come to a decision about tomorrow?"

Minerva looked at him for a moment, until finally, a small smile tugged at her lips when she understood what he was talking about - the Transfiguration award ceremony for their joint paper. "Is that really what you have been thinking about all this time?"

He shrugged but smiled slightly too. "The thought just occurred to me," he explained. "I had forgotten it was Saturday tomorrow."

"Hm," Minerva said, still eyeing him carefully. In the end, however, she smiled and leaned back in her chair. "Well, I have, to answer your question."

He raised an eyebrow.

"I think I will go," she said, "but not for very long."

He nodded. "I'm glad."

'Yes, well," she sighed, "I haven't decided if I am or not yet."

He chuckled and Minerva smiled slightly too.

"They will want to take photos," he commented.

This time Minerva scoffed and rolled her eyes. "I would like to see them try," she said. She knew it wasn't every day one won a Transfiguration prize. Much less a prize for groundbreaking research on animagi alongside a highly respected figurehead like Albus. However, the thought of staying around after the ceremony merely to have photos taken seemed ridiculous to her, especially when she had so many other tasks to complete at school. After all, the picture would just end up stuffed in a box she would never open again.

Albus smiled and Minerva allowed the faintest of smiles to cross her lips too. Then, she drained her cup and stood up.

"Right, I think I had best be off," she said. "I hardly slept a wink last night, and with the day we've had I am absolutely exhausted."

He nodded. "Goodnight, my dear."

"Night, Albus. I'll see you tomorrow."