Thanks for the lovely review - it really made me smile! I would love to post every day, haha, but I don't think that would be feasible. And the story would be finished so much sooner! But maybe if I'm feeling particularly generous and productive, I might consider posting twice one week. Which week and which days I'll post have yet to be confirmed but I hope that's a good enough compromise? :)

2 March 1996

Minerva frowned as Dennis Creevey turned and began to make his way out of her classroom. Before she had really thought about how she was going to broach the subject, Minerva made the split decision to call the boy back.

"Mr Creevey?"

Dennis turned, guilt and fear flitting across his features as he met Minerva's eyes. "Professor?"

"A word if you please," Minerva said, motioning for him to come back into the classroom.

Dennis gulped nervously and attempted to discreetly hide his left hand behind his back - an action Minerva noticed. She narrowed her eyes shrewdly.

"Your hand—"

"Quidditch injury," Dennis interrupted hurriedly. As soon as the words left his lips, he closed his eyes briefly and silently mouthed something - as though cursing himself.

Minerva looked at him over the top of her spectacles. For weeks now she had wanted to get to the bottom of this strange mystery involving the appearance of heavy bandages covering the best part of certain students' hands. Poppy had sworn that she knew nothing of these injuries which suggested that students were taking matters into their own hands to treat whatever injuries they had sustained.

Dennis, Minerva had come to learn, was a terrible liar. That was partly why she had decided to call him back into the classroom so that she could question him. She knew she would get nowhere with Potter. And Longbottom, who had also turned up to class with an injured hand, had become more confident than she could ever remember him being.

Perhaps now, with Dennis, she would finally discover what it was that was causing her students to turn up to class looking shiftily away from her, and continuously attempting to pull down their sleeves to hide the white bandages wrapped around their hands.

"You are not part of the Quidditch team, Mr Creevey," Minerva stated, giving him a pointed look.

"Yes, well—I mean—that is to say—no, I'm not, Professor," stammered the boy. His cheeks were growing steadily redder, and Minerva noticed that he was trying his best to avoid her gaze. "But, I was thinking of practising for tryouts because—erm—I was thinking I could join the team at some point...?"

Minerva raised her eyebrows as Dennis looked hopefully up at her, as though trying to determine whether he had successfully sold this lie.

"Colin helped me," he added quickly. "You can ask him too."

There was a short silence, during which time Minerva considered the boy. She knew full well he was lying to her, and she could tell that he knew she knew he was lying to her. Yet, with no idea how she would be able to move things forwards, Minerva decided she would have to let this one go. Although she would still speak to Colin Creevey, she thought.

"Bludgers can be such a pain," Dennis said, breaking the silence. He tried to smile, clearly hoping Minerva would believe him now that he appeared more at ease. if anything, it did the exact opposite.

Minerva pursed her lips. "Quite," she said after another brief pause. She considered the boy again before finally straightening. "Very well, Mr Creevey, you best hurry along now to get some lunch."

Dennis nodded and left so quickly he almost skidded out of the room. Meanwhile, Minerva, with a dissatisfied sigh as the door swung shut behind Creevey, prepared to leave the room too. She packed up her belongings, picked up her marking, then swept out of the classroom and towards the Great Hall with the intention of speaking to Albus.

But when Minerva arrived at the Great Hall, Albus was nowhere to be seen. Not that that was particularly surprising, Minerva chided herself as she tutted under her breath — these days it was a miracle if Albus was seen anywhere other than behind his desk doing goodness knew what.

Believing this matter to be of great importance, after a brief few minutes in the Hall, Minerva turned on her heel and made her way to Albus' office instead. Lunch could wait, she told herself resolutely just as her stomach rumbled grumpily.

"Albus," she said, minutes later as she stood in front of Dumbledore's office. She knocked on the door.

"Come in."

Minerva opened the door and stepped inside the circular room. Albus was sitting behind a large stack of folders and several maps placed over the remaining space on his desk. Despite the mess, he did not seem terribly troubled by it - something which Minerva could not understand.

Albus flicked his wand and the maps folded themselves. "Good morning, my dear," he said.

Minerva eyed him suspiciously. "Morning was almost two hours ago now," she told him causing his eyebrows to rise slightly. "It is lunchtime, Albus," she added.

Albus checked his watch. "So it is," he said. "Time does fly."

Minerva pursed her lips in a dissatisfied manner. "I did not see you at breakfast either," she added.

"I have been busy, my dear," Albus replied. "Can I help you with anything?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. But first," Minerva clicked her fingers and the small sandwich she had prepared in the hall appeared on a plate in Albus' office. She placed it on his desk, "eat."

Albus smiled slightly. "What would I do without you, my dear?"

Minerva sniffed. "Waste away I should think." Then, she rolled her eyes and her expression softened. "Now, I promise to leave you in peace as soon as I say my piece."

Albus nodded for her to continue.

Minerva took a deep breath. "Well," she sighed and bit her bottom lip, thinking of how best to proceed. "Well," she began again, "over the last few weeks I have noticed many students come to class with bandaged hands."

Albus frowned.

"I have spoken with Filius and Pomona who have raised their concerns with me. Even Severus appears mildly concerned," she said. "But, when I spoke to Dolores about investigating this, she seemed quite unconcerned."

"Minerva that is a serious accusation."

Minerva widened her eyes, horrified that Albus thought her capable of thinking that of someone. "I am not accusing anyone of anything, Albus," she clarified, seriously. "I may not like Dolores much," she admitted, "but that does not mean I believe her capable of physically harming students. All I am saying is that I have spoken with Dolores myself and she told me that I should leave the investigation in her most capable hands. But somehow, given her indifference about the situation, that has not done very much to reassure me."

"I understand that," Albus replied carefully.

When he did not add anything else, Minerva rest her hands on the back of the chair in front of her. "I was hoping you might look into it, Albus. Something is happening. I do not know what exactly, but can you really tell me that there is anything normal about students coming to class with bandaged hands?"

"Have you asked the students?"

Minerva tutted. "Of course, I have. Several times I might add, and none have disclosed why it is they have wounded hands. Poppy has not tended to any of them either."

Albus appeared puzzled. The ringing of the bell interrupted their short discussion. Minerva straightened.

"I have class, now," she said, making a move to leave. "Do please speak with Dolores. I am not saying that she is involved, I am merely saying that I do not trust her to lead an investigation in a matter like this one. Particularly given how unconcerned she appears to be about the mysterious appearance of these injuries."

"I understand, Minerva. Thank you for making me aware of the situation."

Minerva nodded, then took a deep breath. Her hand was now on the door handle which she was about to twist so that she could leave for class. Before she left, however, she nodded at Albus' untouched sandwich. "But do eat first, Albus."