Chapter Five - Passing The Torch
"Thank you all for coming," Albus wheezed.
The headmaster did not look at all well. The curse on the ring he had impulsively slipped on would end his life within months. Then he had consumed a large quantity of what would no doubt one day be classified as an Unforgivable Potion, which had forced him to relive the worst experiences of his life. Albus had coined it "Dementor's Draught" and was certain Tom must have invented it. In the mirror, Albus thought he looked about three hundred years old.
"You said it was urgent," Lucius said.
"I am dying," Albus said simply.
"No!" Minerva yelped. "How? You can't. We need you!"
"You are kind to say so, Minerva, but it is inevitable, I am afraid."
"Is there aught we can do?"
"No, there is nothing to be done. Severus has already made me as comfortable as possible. He and Horace continue to provide the potions that allow me to function normally." He spoke slowly and deliberately, considering each word before spending breath to utter it.
"Truthfully, I am surprised to have lived this long. Were my friend Nicholas still alive, perhaps I could have talked him out of a flask of his magnificent elixir in order to stave off my destiny, but it is not to be. I am sorry that I will not be able to see this thing through to the end."
Albus paused to catch his breath. Even speaking taxed him these days. Fortunately nobody asked him any questions. He would need all of his energy to say what needed saying.
"Minerva, you are my chosen successor. I have every confidence in you to keep the students safe. You've been ready for this for years. With the help of Hogwarts and her past headmasters, you will bring in a new age of enlightenment once the war is won."
"Thank you, Albus," she said softly, tears sparkling in her eyes.
"You must take over immediately. You will no longer be able to teach."
"Of course. Anything I can do to ease your burdens."
"While the hiring of new staff is normally the prerogative of the Headmistress, I thought to simplify your selection process somewhat."
"I assume that's why I'm here," Sirius said. "You've finally gone round the twist."
"Indeed. Though you have a record of insubordination and recklessness, you have demonstrated newfound maturity as well. You are a gifted Animagus. I can think of no one more suited to take up the post of Transfiguration Master."
Sirius smiled and turned to Minerva. "If someone had told you twenty years ago that I'd be taking your place, would you have believed him?"
She shook her head firmly. "I would have suspected a powerful Confundus Charm and sent him to the hospital ward. Truly these are strange times. Yet I agree with Albus. There is no one more suited." She gave him a knowing look. "I know well your teaching ability. Will you be able to write lesson plans?"
"I could use a bit of help with that," he admitted.
"We will speak after this meeting."
Albus suddenly fell into a coughing fit. He covered his mouth with a cloth, and it came away stained with blood. Everyone made to fuss over him, but he waved them away and took a sip from a steaming goblet.
"It has been worse. I will be fine."
"Fine, says the dying man," quipped Sirius.
Albus smiled, the pain fading.
"And why am I here, Albus?" Lucius inquired. "Did you need a school governor as witness?"
"Also related to staffing. It was my hope that you would teach Defence Against the Dark Arts."
One could have heard a pin drop.
"Is this your cunning plan to do away with me?" Lucius said, raising an eyebrow. "Allow the curse to kill me?"
Albus actually laughed, but the jolly sound soon turned to wheezing, then a wet, tearing cough. He spat more blood.
"You are droll, Lucius," he said, once he had regained his composure. "I am sad that we do not have more time together."
"Me as well, Albus," the repentant Death Eater said softly. "We were enemies far too long, and allies but briefly."
"Will you accept?"
Lucius turned to Minerva. "Headmistress?"
She pursed her lips, considering the situation. "I could certainly do worse. Yes, Lucius, I will have you."
"Then I gladly accept."
"Good," wheezed Albus. "Then it's settled."
"You should rest," Minerva said with concern.
"Time enough for that when I am dead."
"Which will be sooner if you are not careful," she chided.
"I have made my peace. There is but one last task before me, and it is of no concern to any of you."
Sirius stood. "Then we will adjourn. There is much preparation we need to do before classes resume."
"Thank you, everyone."
Professors old and new shuffled out of the office.
Sirius said, "Shall we discuss lesson plans, Minerva? Your office?"
"Indeed."
Lucius raised a hand. "Minerva, a moment before you go?"
"Certainly, Lucius." She turned to Sirius. "I trust you know the way?"
He grinned at her. "I could walk it blindfolded." He departed.
She shook her head. "Yes, Lucius?"
"Have you any restrictions on what I may teach the students? I would arm them with every weapon, but I will abide by your wishes."
"Thank you, Lucius. That is most respectful of you." She thought for a moment. "Alastor taught the students to resist Imperius, as much as they could. You may do the same. Normally the Darkest Curses are reserved for NEWT-level. I shall allow them at OWL-level.
"You place great trust in me."
"I trust Albus," she declared. "If he has faith in you, then so do I."
"I will not abuse it," he said softly. "I swear to you, I will not give you any reason to doubt me. I invite you to observe at any time. Remove me at your will."
"These are desperate times," she noted. "Drastic measures are needed to achieve victory. We must win this war at all costs. I accept that the price we pay may be dear. I only pray we do not lose our souls in the process."
"The Patronus Charm will be given prominence."
"Not precisely my meaning, but nonetheless a good idea."
Lucius smiled tightly. "My soul is already damned, Minerva. I have no illusions about what awaits me at the end of things. Yet if my tainted knowledge will help instruct others how to defend themselves, to save lives, then I will use it."
His plain acceptance of his fate startled her. "No one is truly damned, Lucius. You have already set well on your path of repentance. Tell me, when did you learn it? I have never known a Dark wizard who was capable."
"Most cannot," he admitted. "Most know too much hatred to cling to happy memories. There is only one thought that allows me to cast it."
She hazarded a guess. "Your family?"
He nodded. "My sons. I love Narcissa truly, and I have never known another, but still I can only produce mist when I think of her. When my sons were born, the love I felt and feel reveals the form."
She was curious but did not inquire. "The students are well-served."
He was quiet for a moment, then said, "The war will come to Hogwarts soon. I feel it. He grows strong, and soon he will strike. Pray Albus remains with us. Pray word of his condition does not find its way to Voldemort's ear. It is likely all that holds him back."
Minerva swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. "He will come here, then?"
"He must. This place is a symbol. He must take it and hold it. When he comes, I will be ready. He shall not take us easily." Lucius paused again. "He shall not enter this castle but over my bloodied body."
"A blood oath, Lucius?" The man continued to surprise her. Pure-bloods did not make such oaths lightly or carelessly.
"Not quite. But I do swear to you that I will give my life to defend the students."
"I find myself believing you."
"You may feel free to disagree with me on many things, Minerva, but never doubt that I treasure Hogwarts and all for which it stands."
Lucius departed, heading to the Defence classrooms. She was due in her office.
Her old office, that is.
Sirius Black was waiting for her, and his innocent expression told her she had taken far too long conversing with Lucius. She would have to be vigilant while packing her things.
"Professor Black," she said with a nod.
He winced. "Oh, Remus is never going to let me hear the end of this."
"The only thing more improbable would be Potter."
Sirius chortled. "Oh, that would have been grand. What would he teach? Piss-taking?"
Minerva allowed herself a smile. "I am sure you and Remus will figure it out. Now then. I have a fairly successful series of lesson plans that I have worked out after a number of years teaching. Albus gave me his own lessons, such as they were, but I needed something a bit more structured."
"We always did think you were well-organised."
"You should follow them without alteration, suitable to your own teaching style. The students have been doing well with my approach, and OWL scores are up a modest but significant amount." She suddenly glared at him over her spectacles. "Do not disrupt this trend."
He gulped, a naughty schoolboy again. "No, Professor."
She brought out a thick file from her secured drawer. Nothing jumped out at her, so perhaps he hadn't gotten it open. She shot him a sideways glance. More likely he hadn't left anything that would go off while he was still within reach of her wrath.
With a tap of her wand, she applied a Duplication Charm.
"There you are. Keep it secured as well as you did the evidence."
He grinned cheekily at her. "What evidence?"
He left, and as soon as the door closed the first prank went off. She was waiting for it, though, and she emerged unscathed.
Continuity in her own subject assured, Minerva now considered the post of Potions Master. It was an impossible choice. Both men were undisputed Masters.
On the one hand, Horace was good with the students, inspiring them and encouraging them. He made the subject appealing when it was difficult to get students interested in such a precise and laborious art. The world was always in need of more potion makers. Horace lit fires in their imaginations. She hadn't heard the castle so excited about Potions in over fifteen years.
On the other hand, Severus challenged the students. He refused to coddle anyone, even his own Slytherins, and he dared them to become greater than they were. He made himself into an example of the difficulties the students would one day face in the real world. He was a stern taskmaster, an unforgiving critic, and not generally pleasant.
Yet she knew deep down that he did care. His heart had been broken, but it had been capable of breaking in the first place. He had been disparaged by his housemates for his blood, but he never turned his back on the concept of the House. He had staked a claim to Slytherin and fought to make it his own. He had accepted the Headship and sought to guide the young Slytherins to a better way.
While of course there was the obligatory praise and defence the House required, she knew from roaming the halls in her Animagus form that the Slytherins truly had high regard for Professor Snape. His door was always open for them. He looked out for their interests, which was another way to say that he favoured them. Immensely.
And she let it go.
It was more important for the Slytherins to accept and trust him than it was to be fair to the other students. Albus had explained it all to her. She'd had deep misgivings about accepting Severus on the staff in the first place. Only when she had seen with her own eyes the pain in his soul — the same pain that she herself felt — that she had known that Severus Snape could be trusted.
"How to decide? Coin toss?"
Minerva sighed and poured herself a dram.
At least she did not need to find her own replacement. Albus had kindly found the one person she never would have considered. Yet he was the perfect choice.
"If the old coot weren't already dying, I'd cut his beard off, weave it into a rope, and hang him with it."
There was another position on the staff she needed to fill. Her heart ached just to think of it, and here Albus had given her no help.
Perhaps that be the reason, lass.
Professor Aurora Sinistra had been killed by Death Eaters during the raid on the school. She had been awake stargazing when the alarm had sounded and had been the first to report to the Deputy Headmistress' office. She and Pomona had gone to see to Hufflepuff House. They had found the members of the duelling club assembled and ready for action. Pomona had gone to lock down the dormitories, and Aurora had gone up with the duelists.
She had fought valiantly, saving the students many times. All had spoken of her tenacity and fierceness. When they had been pinned down, she had drawn spellfire while the students escaped through a secret passage. She had not been nimble enough and had taken a deadly curse to the neck.
Minerva poured herself another dram.
Another young life cut down in her prime. Another body to bury. Another funeral to attend. Another empty place at the table.
Who could she find to take on the subject of Astronomy? Where could she find a candidate she could trust? Even if she could accomplish that, how could she introduce a new element into the barely contained chaos that was the school? Who would have the temperament, especially with the war raging?
She poured herself a dram but did not drink it. She was lost in her own thoughts, wondering what the coming year would bring.
Suddenly she sat bolt upright, sloshing her whisky. She had the answer. It was the perfect solution.
Severus Snape was good at everything. It was a running joke among the Slytherins, but it was quite true. He even had some small proficiency with Transfiguration, and his academic knowledge on any subject was deep.
"Severus can teach Astronomy. Horace will remain as Potions Master."
As she said it out loud, it made perfect sense. She would have to bring in no one new, nor put any additional lives at stake. She would account for all of her current staff and new hires and all subjects taught.
The idea's brilliance lay in its simplicity. The only real obstacle would be to convince Severus himself.
"What would he want? What am I able to offer him?"
Here in the realm of staff contract negotiations she felt more comfortable. The obvious answer would be the position of Deputy Headmaster. Filius was too cheerful to be the disciplinarian for which the position called. Pomona had no interest in it, something she had repeatedly made clear. That left Severus. One generally was a Head of House for many years before becoming a Deputy Head of the school, and Severus had been in that role since Horace's retirement at the end of the first war.
"Perhaps it is time to reward him," she mused. Then another realisation came to her. "I shall need a new Head of Gryffindor. I may let Sirius Black take over my classroom, but I will not permit him to enforce discipline in the Tower!"
She poured herself another dram.
"But who?" One generally had to be on staff for several years before being entrusted with the responsibility of keeping order in one's old House. It had long been Hogwarts' practice to make a teacher of a core subject a Head of House. There were no other Gryffindors on staff at the moment aside from Charity Burbage and Rubeus Hagrid.
She poured herself another dram.
Hagrid! The very idea! The man could barely handle teaching a single subject. He possessed none of the soft skills needed to keep a lid on the chaos of Gryffindor Tower under the best of conditions. He would be utterly lost against the likes of the Weasley twins, should their ilk darken her doorstep again.
Professor Burbage would be delighted.
"I really must see about hiring more Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Bathsheba is the only Ravenclaw, and I have no other Hufflepuffs at all. When did Slytherin take over the faculty?"
She began to laugh, and it quickly turned hysterical. She began to suspect that she was intoxicated. But that was impossible. She'd only had… How many drams had she taken?
"Oh this will never do," she said aloud. "The new Headmistress is drunk. Whatever would the governors say?"
At that moment, Fawkes flashed into her office. He left a scroll on her desk and then departed.
Minerva untied the ribbon and unrolled the message.
Dear Minerva,
If you have finished dealing with Professor Black's practical jokes, I am available to speak privately.
Sincerely,
Albus
"How does he always know?" She wondered. "I hope that's one of the bits of wisdom he wants to pass on."
She got to her feet. She swayed only a little. She made her way to the Headmaster's office - her office - without much trouble.
"Ah, Minerva. Do come in." He gave her a studious look. "You look a bit unfocused."
"I may have had a few drinks," she confessed.
Albus smiled. "I would, in your place. Black on the staff? Malfoy? Heaven preserve us."
"Black will do well," she admitted grudgingly. "His immature, juvenile nature will endear him to the students. Malfoy, I question your sanity."
"He is most qualified."
She harrumphed. "Who better to teach Defence than one who himself wielded the Dark Arts?"
"He has renounced them," Albus said firmly. "He pledges himself to Tom's defeat."
"I suppose I must believe him," she conceded, "especially considering his rescue of Mister Potter."
Albus nodded. "Were it not for that act of defiance, I would never have suggested him."
"I intend to offer Severus the position of Deputy Headmaster," she said abruptly.
To his credit, he showed no surprise. "That is, of course, your prerogative. Doubtless Tom will be pleased as well."
"Lucius feels that Tom must strike at Hogwarts," Minerva reported.
"He is correct. The attack will come soon after my death. He will not commit his full force, not after the last debacle. He will, though, come himself. If things turn badly, he will retreat but retain many of his Death Eaters."
"We will turn him back," she promised.
"I know you will." He paused to sip from his smoking goblet. "I have complete faith in you."
"That's a hell of a thing to say to someone," she complained.
"Ah, Minerva, you doubt yourself." His gentle smile was back. "Fear not. The Headmasters and Headmistresses of old shall guide you." He gestured to the portraits on the wall. "They have helped me immeasurably."
She inclined her head. "Headmasters," she acknowledged. "Headmistresses, I crave your wisdom."
"Another woman?" sneered a clever-looking wizard with black hair, dark eyes, a pointed beard, and thin eyebrows. He wore the green and silver of Slytherin House. "Albus, you do grow senile."
Albus turned to Minerva. "Phineas Nigellus Black, Headmaster from nineteen-eighteen to nineteen-twenty-five. He tried to bar Muggle-born students from attending school. He was thankfully overruled by the board of governors."
"Charmed, I'm sure," Minerva said coldly.
"You have observed Professor McGonagall in her capacity as Deputy Head for many years, Phineas," Albus said mildly. "Have you found fault with her?"
Phineas scowled. "One exception does not invalidate the rule."
Minerva couldn't believe her ears. "Rule? Surely you do not forget Dilys Derwent, a Headmistress most beloved by the students?" she said acidly. "Or Niamh Fitzgerald? Edessa Sakndenberg? Antonia Creaseworthy? Phyllida Spore, whose Herbology text we still use today? Would you denigrate the esteemed Helga Hufflepuff and Rowena Ravenclaw?"
"As well, many of our teachers are women," Albus pointed out. "Indeed, if not for women, the quality of instruction at Hogwarts would have sharply declined. Then might our reputation as the finest wizarding school in Europe have been called into question."
"Unacceptable," Phineas declared flatly. "Where are the men who desire to preserve Hogwarts' reputation?"
"Some have recently been appointed to staff positions, as you know."
Phineas sniffed. "At least there will be a Professor Black at the school again. This gives me some small measure of consolation, even if he is a disappointment to the family."
Minerva barely resisted the urge to cast a Silencing Charm on his portrait. "I am sure your animosity toward women contributes to your reputation as the least popular Headmaster in school history."
Phineas glared at her. "Of what use is popularity? How does it help educate the students? Look at Professor Snape. He is not popular, yet students learn much from him."
"The man is single-handedly causing a shortage of potion makers in Britain," she noted. "Learn they might, but they have no love for his subject."
"Love, pah!" Phineas spat. "If there is a shortage, then those who do enter the field are assured of steady business. It is simple supply and demand. If everyone wanted to be a potion maker, no one would be able to make a living at it."
Minerva did not feel like arguing further with someone who didn't need to draw breath.