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2 May 1998
"You needn't have come with me," Minerva said as both she and Malcolm ascended the steps to the castle and walked through the battered gates to the Entrance Hall. She had only been gone a little under an hour now - enough time to reassure the rest of the family that she was well, but not much more apart from that.
Given the choice, she would have stayed longer. But she was needed back at the castle. Mainly because she had a meeting with Kinglsey regarding the castle's security from stray Death Eaters. She had already taken care of the remaining students and their families before she had left for Malcolm's.
"I beg to differ. From now on, I am never letting you out of my sight."
He planted a kiss on her cheek, but Minerva did not tut or push him away as she would have done previously - before the war. The knowledge and reassurance of his presence beside her now, was everything she had hoped for over the last few months.
She slipped her hand around his arm and, shortly afterwards, felt Malcolm place his own hand on top of hers.
"I realise you would probably prefer to have your meeting with Kingsley alone. Is there anything in the castle you would like me to help with?" he asked.
"Half the castle is now rubble," Minerva sighed. "I have no idea where to start."
Malcolm tutted gently. "That simply isn't true and you know it. Your mind works at one hundred miles an hour, Minerva. You probably have a dozen of already formed plans, and you are likely executing one now. You can't lie to me, you know. I see straight through you."
Despite how weary she felt, and despite her defeated comments merely a second previously, Minerva allowed a small smile tug at the corner of her mouth. Malcolm did have a knack for reading her, she privately admitted. His being her brother had most likely supported the development of this talent.
"Perhaps so," she said, as they reached the Headteacher's gargoyle which protected the spiral staircase. It was cracked badly in the middle. Minerva repaired it with a wave of her hand. She turned to face Malcolm. "Speak with Poppy and Filius. The Great Hall sustained the most damage, I think it best if we start there."
"Find me when you're done with Kingsley."
Minerva nodded and he kissed her cheek and then squeezed her hand.
"See you in a bit," he said, and he slipped away.
"Thank you."
Minerva jumped at the stone gargoyle's voice. It stretched out its feathers and puffed out its chest - as much as stone could allow.
"You are most welcome," Minerva replied quietly. "I am afraid that I do not know the password."
"You are the Headmistress, Professor McGonagall," the gargoyle said, unfazed. "You may choose the new password as and when you want."
Minerva paused. "Then I shall choose it later," she said quietly. "Thank you."
The eagle bowed deeply and spread its wings to allow Minerva room to walk up the well-worn stones of the spiral staircase. When she reached the landing, she hesitated outside the door to the Headteacher's office. The door was a little open and Minerva suspected someone had managed to enter the office either during the battle or just after.
She gently eased open the door and it creaked open to reveal the small circular office she knew so well. Automatically, her eyes were drawn to Albus' portrait above the Headteacher's desk. But instead of meeting Albus' piercing blue eyes, she saw Severus Snape's closed eyelids. She felt a sudden surge of anger, and then guilt, and then frustration all over again.
Severus did not open his eyes, perhaps for her benefit. He did not speak either but another portrait did.
"Minerva."
Minerva did not respond immediately. She took a moment to compose herself as best as she could, then turned to face the portrait that had spoken her name - Albus' one, now sitting to the right of Severus' portrait.
She felt pain, hurt and awe all at once. Based on the look Albus' portrait was giving her, Minerva knew that these emotions of hers were written clearly across her face.
"Are you hurt?"
She shook her head. "No. At least there will be no lasting damage," she added quietly. She looked away from the portrait and out of the window. She could just about make out the Quidditch Pitch which, thanks to Filius and Pomona, was no longer burning.
"You must have a great many questions. I r—"
"Actually," Minerva interrupted him. She stopped and took a shaky break. "Yes, I do have a great many questions such as: How long had you known about Horcruxes? About Harry. About—your hand, Albus. But—but I shall not be asking them now."
Indeed, she did not think that she would be able to. She was shaken - both because of the ordeal everyone had gone through that night, and as a result of the information she had only recently learnt. She thought of the children who had been taken to St Mungo's a few hours before, the injured students, parents, brothers, sisters and friends, and all the secrets Harry Potter had revealed in those last few moments: Albus had planned his death and that Severus had really been a spy all along.
Minerva sank down into a chair. She had lied to Albus' portrait when she had told him she was not hurt. She was hurt. She was devasted at the destruction surrounding her, at the sizeable loss countless families were now having to try to cope with. Young people whose whole lives had been ahead of them, waiting to be lived. Yet, now they never would be.
"Can we be of any assistance, Professor McGonagall?"
Dilys Derwent's measured voice was unexpected and oddly calming. A trained and widely celebrated nurse, Derwent managed to sound both soothing, but also firm enough to encourage appropriate action. It was exactly what Minerva needed: she had to attend to the pressing matters at hand. Processing the events of that evening would have to come afterwards. She would be of no help to anyone if she did not compose herself, at least for the next few hours or so.
Minerva cleared her throat. "I need to know how many students, or staff, will need to stay at Hogwarts," she said. "And how much work needs to be done in the Common Rooms, and the Great Hall to accommodate them."
Dilys nodded, and a few portrait occupants disappeared from view as they visited their other paintings throughout the castle. Minerva looked at Albus' portrait. He had not moved, but he was not looking at her either. He was looking at his hands, as the real Albus often did when he was considering an issue, and Minerva felt a familiar dull ache in her heart
There came a knock at the door.
"Headmistress?"
Minerva turned to see Kingsley hesitating by the door to the Headteacher's office.
"Minerva, please," she corrected him quietly. "Do come in."
Kingsley entered.
Minerva entered her private quarters, surprisingly almost untouched despite the extent of the fighting in that very same corridor. Flames burst forth from the brackets lining the walls as she passed them. She went straight to her bedroom and began to pack a small bag.
Indeed, she had not refused Malcolm's offer that she should stay in his and Helen's cottage. Malcolm was waiting for her outside by the castle gates now. Minerva had left him with Filius and some of the new Aurors who had come to help with securing the castle. Not that there was much left to secure, given how much had been destroyed over the course of the night, Minerva thought rather harshly.
She pursed her lips and waved her wand. Instantly clothes and toiletries flew neatly into the carpetbag that had been sitting motionless on her chair, only a moment before.
Minerva cast her eyes about her rooms. She did not need much, she thought. Only the essentials, as she would not be staying at Malcolm and Helen's for long. Indeed, she had already made plans to return to Hogwarts early the following morning to begin the long process of fixing the castle.
However, as her eyes skimmed over her desk, a small cream envelope caught her eye. She hesitated, only for a second, before she walked to her desk and picked up the letter. Albus' handwriting stained the envelope in the green ink he always used - and the one Minerva now used too. She traced her index finger slowly over his writing, which spelt out her name in Albus' careful and precise handwriting.
She had not been able to open the letter before when Scrimgeour had passed it on to her only last year. It was to be opened at the 'right time', Albus had specified this in his will. And although Minerva rather believed that this might be the 'right time', she still could not bring herself to open and read the letter.
She turned the envelope and picked the seal open. Minerva inhaled sharply as a folded piece of cream parchment gracefully slid out of the envelope; she had not expected it to open so easily.
She stared at the letter in her hand. After months of wondering what Albus had concealed inside this envelope, finally she would be able to find out. It began:
My dearest Minerva,
I do hope this letter finds you well.
Minerva had barely reached the end of the sentence before she folded the letter again and looked away from it. Her heart fluttered against her ribcage, and she pressed her hand there - glad for the distraction. She was tired. She was not feeling well. It was not Albus, at least his words and the memory of his voice as she read the lilting green lettering on the parchment, that had made her feel so upset. At least, that was what Minerva was trying to tell herself.
After weeks, months, a whole entire year waiting to read Albus' words, and now Minerva found herself unable to. She longed to uncover the secrets that had been contained in this envelope for so long. And yet, it seemed impossible now to do anything of the kind.
She swallowed, sniffed, and then put the letter back in the envelope - for another day, another time, she told herself. She placed the envelope on her desk and looked at the small photographs she had of Elphinstone, and then of Albus. Black and white muggle images. She had framed them at some point, hidden them away when Albus and Elphinstone had passed, and then brought them out again when the guilt of hiding them threatened to break her heart.
"You foolish men," she said under her breath, somewhat accusingly too as they had left her first.
Finn and Albus remained unmoved, and Minerva felt tears pool in her eyes. She wiped them away - if she started crying now, she would not be able to stop. With the well-practised ability to compartmentalize - whether that was entirely wise or not - Minerva nevertheless, pushed her feelings to one side and finished packing her bag.
She hesitated as she passed her desk again. The letter balancing against an empty flowerpot watched her accusingly. Albus' last words to her - the last part of himself he had wanted to share with her - and Minerva was going to leave him alone? She picked up the letter and slipped it into her pocket. Don't cry, she admonished herself.