10 July 1997

Minerva smoothed over her dress robes for the umpteenth time that morning, then brought her gently trembling hands to pin a small brooch on her collar. She was just pushing the needle through the fabric when three knocks sounded at her door.

Minerva's eyes flicked to the door and, no longer paying attention to what her fingers were doing, she slid the needle straight into her thumb.

"Ouch!" She dropped the brooch which then smashed as soon as it came into contact with the floor. "Oh–no!"

The knock sounded again and Minerva, feeling a lot more agitated than she cared to admit, picked up a tissue to wrap her thumb with and finally hurried to the door.

"Oh, Pomona," she began once she had opened the door. "Sorry I—"

"I heard a crash?" Pomona said. "Is everything all right?"

"Fine, just fine," Minerva said dismissively. She made the mistake of waving her hand so that the bloodied tissue cocooning her stinging finger came into view.

"Is that—"

"It's nothing, Pomona," Minerva said briskly. She turned to enter her quarters again, knowing that Pomona would most likely follow her, then bent down to fix the mess she had made of her brooch.

The pieces had scattered in all directions. Little bits of blue and green twinkled here and there as they reflected the flickering lights of the candles in Minerva's rooms.

Minerva heard the gentle click of the door as Pomona shut it. She heard as Pomona came further into the room. She could see Pomona's feet as the Hufflepuff came to a stop by the mirror Minerva had been using to get ready. Yet, Minerva did not look up; she was sure that if she did, she would no longer be able to successfully contain the whirling of emotions coursing through her body.

Instead, Minerva picked up the largest piece of the broken brooch and stood up again. Her hands shook slightly as she removed her wand from her pocket.

Pomona took a hesitant step forward. "Would you like me to—"

"I believe I can manage one simple charm," Minerva interrupted crisply. She pressed her lips together, regretting how harsh her words had sounded, though did not say anything more.

Pomona nodded silently and Minerva waved her wand so that the broken pieces of the brooch reassembled themselves. Looking at the fixed brooch, Minerva found herself wondering how differently the last few minutes would have gone if magic did not exist - most likely in tears given the fact that the jewellery piece had once belonged to her mother.

Then again, Minerva thought, the only reason she needed to wear this brooch and these robes was because of magic. If not for that one dreadful night, and Severus casting that curse then perhaps Albus would still be with them. Instead of a funeral, Minerva would be preparing for a quick trip to Albus' office to celebrate the end of the academic year.

"That looks nice."

Minerva did not say anything — she couldn't.

"Erm," Pomona shuffled uncomfortably. "Scrimgeour and the others will be here soon but—I can do it if you want?"

"Do what?"

Pomona sighed and took a step closer to where Minerva was standing. "Anything," she said finally, reaching out to hold Minerva's hands. "I can take care of the Minister, I can take care of the seating arrangements. Minerva, I will take care of anything and everything if you want me to. All you need to do is come down when you're ready and—and"

She never finished her sentence. Instead, she wrapped her arms around Minerva's shoulders.

Minerva closed her eyes and allowed her to be enveloped in the tight but somehow comforting hug.

"Leave it all to me, dear," Pomona whispered into her shoulder.

Minerva turned her back on the crowd and discreetly wiped her eyes. Only a few more hours then they would all be gone — the guests, the students and even some of the Professors. Then, she would finally be able to return to her quarters where she could sit alone and in silence.

"Professor McGonagall?"

Minerva turned to find herself faced with Rufus Scrimgeour.

"Might I have a few moments of your time, Minerva?"

"I expect you will not take no for an answer," she muttered, too quietly for Rufus to fully hear her words.

Scrimegous hesitated uncertainly and it took all of Minerva's strength not to roll her eyes and tut — she really did not want to speak to anyone at this moment of time.

"Do proceed, Rufus," she said.

"Right." Rufus cleared his throat. "What I mean to ask is—" he stopped and seemed to backtrack as he thought of how best to approach the situation.

Given how nervous he seemed, Minerva could only guess that whatever he was about to ask her was something she would not entirely approve of. Indeed, a deep crimson blush seemed to be creeping up his neck.

"All right, Minerva, I won't beat about the bush," he said, speaking quickly it seemed so that he could get past whatever unpleasantness that was yet to come. "Where was Dumbledore the night it happened?"

Minerva pressed her lips together so firmly that they became entirely white. "You would like to speak about this now?" she said in a dangerously quiet voice that did nothing to mask her incredulity. "And it is Professor Dumbledore to you, Minister."

Scrimgeour ears went red. "I need you to think carefully about your position, Minerva," he said, his efforts to keep a hand on his anger slowly waning. "You might think that you can defy the Ministry of Magic just because your predecessor did, wantonly. I would advise you to reconsider this decision and answer my question: Where was he?"

"He was away, Minister. Annual leave, holiday, visiting his brother, I do not know," Minerva snapped. "Since when has the Ministry ever paid so much as an ounce of interest in the personal lives of Hogwarts professors?"

Scrimgeour's rather poor attempt to appear calm and sympathetic disappeared entirely. "See now, Minerva, it was all well and good for D—Professor Dumbledore," he corrected himself, "to do as he liked 4 years ago. But times have changed. Professor Dumbledore should have made the Ministry aware that he was leaving weeks on end without protecting the school—"

"How dare you! Professor Dumbledore did as much as he could for his school," Minerva said. "I did not see the Ministry lend a hand at any point throughout his career, or help Hogwarts in any such way when we needed you to."

"Well, as you said, it was his school," Scrimgeour replied rather hotly. "The Ministry cannot be held accountable for every little thing that goes wrong! Dumbledore was clear that he did not want us to interfere with how he ran the school. We only did as he asked."

Minerva could have slapped him. But, never having resorted to such violence before, she managed to contain herself. Instead, she rewarded Scrimgeous with such a dark look that he was forced to look away. "I am not here to discuss politics with you, Rufus. You would do well to remember where you are before making such comments."

"Where was he?"

"I have no idea," Minerva replied coldly.

"Only, we were aware that there were two brooms up the Astronomy Tower that night."

Minerva felt her heart clench. She swallowed. "I am afraid I am just as lost as you are," she replied, though she betrayed herself by glancing in Potter's direction.

Scrimgeour seemed to notice and Minerva could sense his immediate desire to question the boy.

She took a step forward. "This is a time of mourning, Minister," she warned him. "If you do not allow those here to mourn in peace, then I will ask that you leave."

Scrimgeour pulled his eyes away from Potter. He looked as though he wanted to argue but had thought twice about it. In the end, he bowed his head slightly. "I apologise, Minerva, for your loss. I expect we will be seeing more of each other in the next few weeks when we can discuss these matters further."

Minerva pursed her lips. "I expect so," she said eventually.

Scrimgeour nodded and walked away. Though he did not go in the direction of Harry Potter, Minerva was quite certain Rufus would attempt to catch the boy before the end of the day.