A Lioness

[Dragonlady]

All right, here is the first part of A Lioness. It's all finished and archived at fanfiction.net, The Dark Arts, and Sugar Quill, but I thought I'd post it here as well. If it's not considered to be AD/MM enough for the mods, let me know and I'll take it down. Sorry if the format didn't work.

A Lioness by Dragonlady

Chapter One-Bittersweet Homecoming

As Professor Minerva McGonagall looked around, immediately after Apparating from St. Mungo's hospital to just outside the gates of Hogwarts, her first thought was that it was a beautiful day. Somehow that struck her as odd-one did not normally associate the tension of wartime with such wonderful weather. For war was what it was, even if all but a handful of the Muggle population was not aware of its existence. However, Minerva much preferred the ignorance of the non-magic folk over the willful blindness of many wizards and witches.

Almost automatically Minerva glanced down at the copy of the Sunday Prophet she was holding. After the attack in the Department of Mysteries, the Ministry of Magic had finally been forced to acknowledge Voldemort's return. In her opinion, the acknowledgement was too little too late, but it would at least help inform the common public and might even inspire more people to openly oppose Voldemort. Minerva had decided to use his name after the attack, realizing that calling Voldemort 'You-Know-Who' was only another form of denying his reality. It was not the same as the Ministry's blatant denial that he had returned, but the principle was similar.

The loud chirp of a nearby bird shook her out of her reverie, and Minerva shook her head at her inattention. Carpetbag in one hand and walking stick in the other, she tucked the newspaper under her arm and started towards the castle. It was, indeed, a beautiful day; a gentle breeze was blowing and there was not a cloud in sight. The sunlight shone so brilliantly down on the lake that Minerva turned away from the glare, moving her gaze to the castle itself.

Though she had not been gone for long, Minerva felt a strong sense of homecoming as she beheld Hogwarts in all of its glory. The castle rose majestically out of the green lawn, windows shining in the sunlight, as a lone owl glided towards one of the towers. Seeing that owl, a weary traveler coming home at last, made Minerva hasten her steps until finally she neared the top and heard voices coming through the open front doors.

Minerva paused to listen at the top of the steps, tucking the newspaper inside her carpetbag as she did so. The low and malevolent voice was undoubtedly that of Severus Snape, the other-Harry Potter?

"Put that wand away at once. Ten points from Gryff-" Snape's voice stopped. His sneer was audible when he continued, "Ah. I see there are no longer any points left in the Gryffindor hourglass to take away. In that case, Potter, we will simply have to- "

Minerva, as the head of Gryffindor House, had had enough. No points in the Gryffindor hourglass? If forcing the Ministry of Magic to acknowledge Voldemort's return was not worthy of house points, she didn't know what was. She walked into the Entrance Hall and was in time to halt Snape in mid-sentence with, "Add some more?"

The crowd in the hall, which also included Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle, turned as one to look at her. Surprise and gratification briefly flashed across Harry's face as Snape strode forward. "Professor McGonagall! Out of St. Mungo's, I see!"

Shrugging off her cloak, Minerva replied, "Yes, Professor Snape. I'm quite as good as new. You two-Crabbe- Goyle-here. Take these up to my office for me."

Crabbe and Goyle shuffled forward to take the offered carpetbag and cloak before turning and stumping away up the marble staircase. Minerva was rather surprised that they knew where her office was. But then, they had been forced to visit it numerous times, so she supposed that even they would have learned its location by now.

"Right then," she continued, glancing up at the hourglasses. "Well, I think Potter and his friends ought to have fifty points apiece for alerting the world to the return of You-Know-Who!" Minerva told herself that the only reason she had refrained from saying Voldemort's name was to spare the students. "What say you, Professor Snape?" She had to fight to keep from laughing at the disgruntled look on Snape's face.

"What?" he snapped, though it was obvious that he had heard. "Oh- well-I suppose-"

Smirking inwardly, Minerva said, "So that's fifty each for Potter, the two Weasleys, Longbottom, and Miss Granger." She paused, watching with satisfaction as two hundred and fifty rubies hit the bottom of the Gryffindor hourglass. Had she forgotten someone? "Oh- and fifty for Miss Lovegood, I suppose. Now, you wanted to take ten from Mr. Potter, I think, Professor Snape, so there you are..." As ten rubies moved back into the upper bulb, Minerva finished, "Well, Potter, Malfoy, I think you ought to be outside on a glorious day like this."

Harry, obviously eager to leave, headed out the front door in the direction of Hagrid's cabin without a backwards glance. Minerva turned and stared at Draco until he muttered something unintelligible and also left, though he headed in the direction of the dungeons instead of outside. She shook her head, but let it pass.

Severus Snape, now the only person left in the Entrance Hall other than Minerva herself, glared up at the hourglasses. That was Severus all over. He was not at all fair, favoring the Slytherins and hating the Gryffindors, but he was a tremendous Potions Master. His teaching style was radically different from Minerva's own, but she had to admit that intimidation was usually more than enough incentive to get the students to work. Besides, he was a huge asset to the Order of the Phoenix. Even if he was a "greasy bat," as Minerva had heard one student call him. Her amusement at the analogy immediately vanished when Severus glanced around warily and said, "You have spoken to members of the Order, then, if you know who was at the Department of Mysteries."

Minerva also checked for listeners before replying, "Yes, though that is nearly all I know, other than what is in the Sunday Prophet. Kingsley Shacklebolt told me when he escorted Nymphadora Tonks to the hospital. He said only that the six in question had gone to the Department of Mysteries because of a vision of Potter's and had to be rescued, though he looked as if he wanted to say something more before he left. Nymphadora herself had not woken when I was discharged."

"And he said nothing more. " There was something odd in the Potions Master's voice.

"No. Nothing more." Minerva frowned. "I may be growing old, Severus, but I am not entirely lacking in intelligence. What is it that I am not being told?"

Snape did not reply, but instead pivoted and strode in the direction of the dungeons. "I am sure the headmaster would want to see you," he said as he departed.

Minerva watched him as he left, still frowning, before turning and walking to the marble staircase. She climbed slowly, using her walking stick for support, while she pondered what Severus had said- or rather, hadn't said. His silence had seemed almost as though he had wanted to spare her from hearing something, which was not at all in character. What could be so terrible that even he, who as a spy for the Order was so often the bearer of bad news, did not want to tell her?

Deep in thought, Minerva did not even notice when her ponderous steps led her towards the stone gargoyle that was the entrance to the headmaster's office. She halted in surprise when she realized where she was, but did not turn back. After all, she had planned on seeing the headmaster anyway. Still, she was partly reluctant-she was not at all sure that she wanted to hear what he had to tell her. Whatever makes both Kingsley and Severus tread on eggshells must be horrible...

Oh, this is ridiculous! Minerva scolded herself a few minutes later, realizing that she was still standing in front of the stone gargoyle. Hesitating no longer, she gave the password and stepped onto the moving staircase. Her momentum carried her all the way to the door where she grasped the griffin knocker and knocked three times.

For a long moment there was silence from within, and Minerva had raised her hand to knock again when she heard rapid footsteps from inside. Then the door opened and she found herself looking at the person whom many considered to be the most powerful wizard in the world.

[Dragonlady]

Oops-the format didn't work after all. I'm sorry about all of the weird characters. If anyone knows how to fix them without having to retype the whole thing, let me know.

[Catwoman99]

Hello there and welcome!

First off, let me say that I am enjoying your story and I think it's well written. I look forward to more, so I hope you'll post the rest here. :-) As one of the admins here, I don't have any problem with your story being here. True, I think we all tend to link up Albus and Minerva romantically, but there is nothing wrong with just having a strong friendship. It's certainly more canon. You may want to add a disclaimer if your fic is not going to feature a romantic attachment between the two, just so you don't get reviews that ask when they're going to hook up. So don't let anything stop you from posting more!

As to your format, what were you trying to do? Did you just cut and paste from a word program? If you'd like, I could go in and edit your post, but I'm not sure what all those characters were meant to be. If you want, feel free to email me or PM me on here.

Again, great job thus far on your fic.

-April :-)

[Sior]

I adore this. I adore this I adore this I adore this!

I read the first of this some time ago on FFN not knowing you were an AD/MM shipper. I thought it a superb character study of Minerva. But now that I know you to be a shipper I can read the AD/MM subtext with a clear conscience.
I read the second part on FFN. It's even better than the first. Well crafted and wonderfully understated. Wonderful.

[Jestana]

I've read this on FF.Net and the bits on FAP. You're a fan-bloody-tastic writer and I love your style. Please post the rest!

[griseldalafey]

Wonderful story. I like the way you are really going into Minerva's character.

[Dragonlady]

I fixed the weird characters! Apparently the copy-and-paste doesn't like dashes and apostrophes. But anyway, because there's a character limit, I'm going to do review replies (a habit I got into when I first got involved in fanfics) in separate posts. Everyone-thank you so much-this is only my second fanfic, and my first HP one, and I'm incredibly flattered by the feedback I've gotten.

Catwoman99-Thanks for the permission; I greatly appreciate it. The disclaimer is a wonderful idea, and I'll use it.

Sior-Thank you so much. The subtext was entirely intentional, and great fun to write. My favorite scene is the one I wrote first-the Albus/Minerva conversation in chapter two. Incidentally, it's also the shippiest part of the fic.

Jestana-Thanks a bunch, both for the compliment and all of your support. As you know since you reviewed chapter 2 on ff.net, I credited you for the Delubrum Minervae password.

griseldalafey-Thank you! Your 'Another You' is one of my favorite stories, by the way.

I think I'll be posting one part of the fic a day, since I have to edit out the weird characters. The next one, actually, is going up right after I post this.

[Dragonlady]

DISCLAIMER-AD AND MM REMAIN STRICTLY FRIENDS IN THIS FIC.

Professor Albus Dumbledore was beaming down at her, bright blue eyes twinkling merrily from underneath snowy brows. "Minerva! Welcome back!" He moved aside, letting her precede him back into his office.

"It is wonderful to be back, Albus," Minerva replied, smiling, as they sat down in two chairs by the fireplace. Fawkes made a noise from by the desk, and Minerva glanced over that direction. She did a double take as she saw that the phoenix was a newborn. Odd, she thought. She did not recall him being close to a burning day the last time she saw him.

"You are recovered, I trust?" the headmaster asked, recalling her attention.

"Almost completely, thankfully," Minerva replied. "The residual discomfort has all but disappeared, and with luck I will be rid of the walking stick in a matter of weeks. I am, however, required to report to Poppy some time today."

Albus nodded. "Good," he said, retrieving a tin from his desk. "In addition, I am sure you will be pleased to hear that Hagrid has returned safely. Lemon drop?" he asked as he returned to his seat.

"No, thank you," said Minerva, just as she had every other time the headmaster had offered her a lemon drop over the years. "I am pleased that Hagrid has returned unharmed. I know at least three of my Gryffindors who will be delighted to hear that-though one, I think, may already know," she added, remembering that Harry Potter had headed in the direction of Hagrid’s hut upon leaving the Entrance Hall.

"Actually, all of the students are aware of Hagrid’s return because he was present at breakfast this morning," the headmaster answered. "So you saw Mr. Potter? It must have been him, for Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger have not yet been released from the Hospital Wing."

His Deputy, knowing that the Hermione and Ron had been present in the attack, immediately asked, "Are Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley all right?" Recalling her colleagues’ evasions, she added, "What is it that both Kingsley and Severus were afraid to tell me? And what in Merlin’s name happened in the Department of Mysteries?"

Holding up a hand to forestall any more questions, Albus replied, "Your young lions will soon recover, so you need not worry on that account. Miss Granger was cursed by Antonin Dolohov and Mr. Weasley was attacked by brains, but I have Poppy Pomfrey’s assurances that both will be completely healed before the end of term. As for Kingsley and Severus- " The headmaster sighed and closed his eyes for a long moment. When he opened them, he said, "Minerva, I regret to inform you that Sirius Black is dead."

Minerva blinked, and blinked again, the headmaster’s words refusing to register in her mind. Whatever she had been expecting, this was not it. She opened and closed her mouth several times before asking weakly, "Albus, what happened in the Department of Mysteries?"

Albus sighed again, looking his true age for the first time that afternoon. "You are aware that I required Harry Potter to learn Occlumency from Severus because of his connection with Voldemort."

"Yes." Minerva’s eyes had begun to burn, but she replied steadily. "You said that the Occlumency training that Kingsley and Nymphadora received as Aurors, while mostly adequate for their needs, is not sufficient to block Harry’s connection with You-Kn- er, Voldemort."

"Correct." The headmaster nodded. "What you may not know is that Severus refused to continue giving Harry Occlumency lessons some time ago, for reasons that are not mine to tell. As a result, Harry’s training is nowhere near complete. Because of this, Voldemort was able to send Harry a false vision on Thursday afternoon."

"Of what?" Minerva asked, horrified.

"Of Sirius Black being tortured in the Department of Mysteries," Albus said heavily. "You and all of the members of the Order are aware of the prophecy concerning Harry and Voldemort, if not its contents. Voldemort wanted to lure Harry to the Department of Mysteries-"

"-so the prophecy could be retrieved for him," Minerva finished, her insides going cold. "And Harry, thinking that his godfather was being harmed, took the bait. But why did he not try to contact a member of the Order first?"

"He did," Albus replied. "He, along with the other five who were at the Department, was captured by Dolores Umbridge after attempting to reach Grimmauld Place though her fireplace. He also notified Severus Snape in code when Dolores requested Veritaserum, which Severus denied. All might have been saved if Hermione Granger had not managed to lure Umbridge into the Forbidden Forest, where Umbridge was taken by centaurs. Mr. Potter and Miss Granger only escaped narrowly themselves. In the meantime Ronald and Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and Luna Lovegood hexed the members of the Inquisitorial Squad who had been holding them and rejoined their friends. All six then flew Thestrals to the Department of Mysteries."

"Merlin." Minerva sat back in her chair. "Then how did Sirius die, if the vision Voldemort gave Mr. Potter was false?"

The headmaster had a far-away look in his eyes as he spoke. "Upon leaving Umbridge’s office, Severus immediately contacted headquarters. Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Alastor Moody, and Kingsley Shacklebolt were present when he called. I was expected shortly, but Sirius denied Severus’ request that he stay behind and tell me what had happened. All went to the Department of Mysteries to help Harry and his friends."

Minerva frowned, confused. "But if Sirius was at Grimmauld Place, why did he not respond when Harry tried to reach him through the fire?"

"And thus is the treachery of Kreacher revealed," Albus said grimly. "When I arrived at headquarters, I discovered that Sirius had left it to Kreacher to inform me of what had happened. Using Legilimency, I discovered that, over the winter holidays, Kreacher had taken Sirius’ order to leave literally. Kreacher went to Malfoy Manor, and when he returned he became an informant. Due to the Fidelius Charm he was not able to reveal the secrets of the Order, but he was able to pass on that Sirius Black was the person who meant the most to Harry Potter. Hence the vision. Kreacher injured Buckbeak in order to assure that Harry’s call would not be answered. After learning this I immediately went to the Department, but I was not able to prevent Bellatrix Lestrange from causing her cousin to fall through the Veil there with a curse."

"Killed by his own cousin while trying to save his godson," Minerva whispered. "I shudder to think how Harry must feel. And Remus Lupin," she added, horrified all over again at the thought of the werewolf losing his only remaining friend.

"Remus is relatively unharmed, if grieving," the headmaster replied, sounding incredibly weary. "Harry, however, is another matter entirely. He pursued Bellatrix Lestrange into the lobby of the Ministry after she killed his godfather, even attempting to cast the Cruciatus Curse on her." Minerva gasped, but Albus did not pause in his narration. "They were met in the lobby by Voldemort himself, but I arrived in time to keep him from killing Harry. I was not, however, able to keep Voldemort from temporarily possessing Harry before disappearing. After the Aurors and Cornelius Fudge arrived, I sent Harry back here via Portkey. When I returned, he was extremely angry. He destroyed many of my possessions and was on the verge of attacking me. I explained to him about Kreacher. Afterwards, I did what I should have long ago. I told Harry the nature of the protection living with his relatives gives him and revealed the entirety of the prophecy."

Looking at the headmaster in concern, Minerva said carefully, "I gather that he did not react well. However, not knowing the contents of the prophecy, you will forgive me if I find it difficult to comprehend the full implications of what you are saying." Fawkes chirruped, and Minerva suddenly realized that he had probably been reborn sometime during the headmaster’s
presumed duel with Voldemort.

For the first time since telling her of Sirius’ death, Albus gave Minerva the full force of his penetrating gaze. He searched her face for a long moment before nodding abruptly and standing up. Going over to a nearby cabinet, he retrieved his Pensieve and returned to the fireplace. Handing it to her silently, the headmaster moved a side table so that it was between their chairs and motioned for Minerva to put the Pensieve down.

[Dragonlady]

DISCLAIMER-AD AND MM REMAIN STRICTLY FRIENDS IN THIS FIC (So I lied. Two parts today. But it didn't flow correctly unless I posted the entire conversation.

As Albus took out his wand, Minerva finally realized what he was doing. "Albus, you do not need to- "

"Yes, Minerva, I do," he interrupted. "I am human; I too occasionally need someone to confide in. However, I must ask that you not speak of this to anyone who does not already know." The headmaster waited for her nod before prodding the contents of the Pensieve with his wand.

The figure of Sibyll Trelawney appeared above the Pensieve. When it spoke, revolving slowly as it did so, its voice was considerably harsher than Minerva had ever heard it before. "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…And the Dark Lord shall mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…"

Minerva sat stunned in her chair as Sibyll’s voice and image faded. There was a long moment of silence. Finally, she spoke. "It means Harry," she said, feeling dazed. "Albus…" The word was almost a plea.

"You see why I did not wish to tell him," the headmaster said. "I delayed for five years, and now it has come back to haunt me. Sirius’ death was my fault. Had I told Harry of the prophecy he would have known that Voldemort would eventually attempt to lure him to the Department of Mysteries. He would not have gone and would not have needed to be rescued, thus preventing Sirius’ death."

Though his voice was calm, the guilt and anguish in Albus’ eyes jolted Minerva out of her horrified daze like nothing else would have. "Nonsense," she protested in the strongest voice she could muster. "You know Harry. It is likely that he would have gone anyway, even knowing about the prophecy. Besides, knowing the prophecy would likely have caused him to push his friends away in an attempt to spare them, and without their aid he would certainly be dead right now."

"You cannot be sure of that," said the headmaster.

"And neither can you be sure that Sirius would not be dead if you had told Harry of the prophecy!" retorted Minerva, exasperated. "Albus, do not do this to yourself! It serves no purpose. What is done is done, and guilt will not turn back the clock. If you had told Harry the prophecy, if the students had not ventured into the Forest, if Severus had been clear that he would try and help-the fact remains that these things did not happen. Blaming yourself will not change that. This was not your fault." Pausing for breath, Minerva suddenly realized that she had just lectured the headmaster as she would have a student and sat back, flushing.

There was an interminable moment of silence as innumerable thoughts flickered behind the headmaster’s blue eyes. Minerva was about to apologize when Albus suddenly smiled, his eyes beginning to twinkle again. "My dear Minerva," he said, "you are quite correct. After all, self-blame can only go so far before it becomes self-pity. Let us speak of happier things. May I ask two favors of you?"

"Of course," Minerva responded immediately, relieved at the headmaster’s change of mood.

"Would you kindly tell Mr. Potter that his Quidditch ban has been revoked and return his Firebolt to him?" Albus asked. "I believe that it is being held in the dungeons."

"I would be delighted to do so," Minerva said, smiling. She had a certain amount of interest in the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and Ginny Weasley, while competent, was no match for Harry as a Seeker. The girl would almost certainly be kept on the team, though; she was a natural with a broomstick. "And the other favor?"

"Unfortunately, it is not nearly as pleasant," the headmaster replied. "It is necessary that someone sort through Dolores Umbridge’s belongings and determine whether or not they are suitable to be returned to her. I have been informed that a few of her possessions are of a somewhat dubious nature."

Minerva grimaced, but agreed. "If that is all, then, Albus?" she asked, reaching for her walking stick and using its aid to rise at his nod. "Poppy will have my head if I do not see her before dinner."

"Minerva." Albus’ voice stopped her as she reached the door. "I am glad that you have returned."

Looking back at the man who had been teacher and mentor and was now friend, Minerva smiled, her eyes suddenly burning again. "As am I," she replied simply. "I shall see you at dinner."

[Sensiblyquirky]

I remember reading this on ff.net. and i loved it then as i do now. Excellent job, and your writing is stellar.

Keep up the good work,

Christy ;D

[Catwoman99]

Wow, your writing is wonderful. You've kept them very much in character. I look forward to more from you.

-April :-)

[Dragonlady]

Sensiblyquirky-Thank you very much.

Catwoman99-Thanks! I tried very hard to keep everyone in character. Harry in particular gave me a hard time-you'll see him in chapter two.

DISCLAIMER-AD AND MM REMAIN STRICTLY FRIENDS IN THIS FIC.

She went down the stone staircase and headed towards the hospital wing, nodding to the teachers and students she passed in the hallways. Minerva remembered that Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley were there as well and thought that she would look in on them. Though she would never show favoritism, Hermione was one of her favorite students, reminding Minerva of herself at that age. And Ron Weasley was on the Quidditch team. Besides, both were the very epitome of Gryffindor standards.

But it was impossible to think of two members of the famous-or infamous-Gryffindor trio without thinking of the third. Sobering, Minerva turned her thoughts to Harry Potter. She had been worried about him for the entire school year, and that concern had only intensified when Albus had told her of the prophecy. She was not at all reassured when she recalled that he had attempted to cast the Cruciatus Curse on Bellatrix Lestrange. Yes, his godfather had just died and he was under a tremendous amount of pressure, but that was no excuse for his behavior. On the verge of attacking the headmaster indeed,Minerva thought, remembering what Albus had said and the guilt in his eyes when he said it. Perhaps she would speak to Mr. Potter about more than just Quidditch when she saw him.

Upon entering the Hospital Wing Minerva immediately spotted Hermione and Ron in two adjacent beds near the far end, both looking nearly recovered. They were conversing animatedly, though they spoke softly to avoid incurring the wrath of Madam Pomfrey. A textbook lay abandoned on Hermione’s side table, a Quidditch magazine on Ron’s.

Hermione was the first to notice Minerva’s approach. "Professor McGonagall!" she cried.
"You’re back! How are you?"

"Good afternoon, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley," Minerva said, smiling. "Quite recovered, and yourselves?"

"Er, Madam Pomfrey reckons that we’ll be out of here before the end of term," Ron replied. "Hermione was worse off than me, really-you were!" he added when Hermione glared and opened her mouth angrily.

Minerva cleared her throat loudly, and both students started and looked back at her guiltily. Suppressing another smile, she said, "You will both be happy to hear that two hundred and fifty points have been added to Gryffindor. Oh, and Mr. Potter’s Quidditch ban has been lifted, but I should like to tell him that myself."

"Brilliant!" Ron exclaimed enthusiastically.

"That’s wonderful!" Hermione added. "Harry really needs something to cheer him up, especially after- " She stopped abruptly, biting her lip and glancing at Minerva apprehensively.

"It’s all right, Miss Granger," Minerva said. "Professor Dumbledore said much the same, as well as informing me of what happened on Thursday night."

"We’re worried about Harry, Professor." Surprisingly, that was Ron, looking more serious than she had ever seen him before.

Looking at him thoughtfully, Minerva replied, "I know, Mr. Weasley. We all are." She would have said more, but Poppy Pomfrey chose that moment to come bustling out of her office.

"I thought I heard you, Professor McGonagall," she said, smiling. "Welcome back."

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," said Minerva, returning the smile.

"Now then," said the matron, becoming businesslike, "the Healers at St. Mungo’s gave me explicit orders to check you over thoroughly. Shall we go into my office?"

Agreeing, Minerva excused herself to Ron and Hermione and followed Poppy into her office.

Beginning to perform diagnostic spells as Minerva sat down, the matron asked, "Have you reported to the headmaster?"

"I have," said Minerva. "He filled me in on…on the full events of Thursday night."

Poppy sighed. "A tragic business for all concerned, though you might know more than I. All Professor Dumbledore told the staff yesterday was that there would be no more Ministry interference in the future and that someone very close to Harry Potter and his friends had died."

"Yes." Minerva closed her eyes as Poppy cast another spell. "Poor Harry."

"Poor Harry, indeed," the matron agreed. "Did you know, he- " She stopped abruptly.

Opening her eyes, Minerva frowned. "Out with it, Poppy. What you have to say cannot possibly be any worse than what I have heard already today."

"Well," began Poppy hesitantly, "he came looking for you, that Thursday afternoon. He came running in here as if his life depended on it, in fact. He looked ever so distraught when I told him that you weren’t here. White as a sheet, he was."

"Harry came looking for me," Minerva repeated. There was a horrible feeling growing in her stomach. It took her a moment to realize that it was guilt.

"Yes." Poppy sounded as though she wished she hadn’t said anything. She cast one last spell and assumed a brisk tone of voice as she said, "Well, that’s done. You’re healing quite nicely, though you’ll need the walking stick for a few weeks more. Overwork and emotional distress will give you extremely painful chest spasms, so mind you relax and keep your temper." She took two bottles off a cabinet and handed them to the Deputy Headmistress, finishing with, "Take these twice a day until the end of term and absolutely no transforming until I tell you."

"Thank you," Minerva said, automatically putting the potions in her robes and using her walking stick to stand up. She nodded absently to Hermione and Ron as she left the Hospital Wing and headed towards her office, but reversed her steps when she remembered that Albus had asked her to retrieve Harry’s Firebolt from the dungeons.

Harry had come looking for her on Thursday afternoon after having his vision. He was going to ask her for help, and she hadn’t been there. Minerva remembered her question to Albus: "But why did he not try to contact a member of the Order first?" And he had tried. To contact her. If she had not been foolish enough to lose her temper and go running into the dark after four Ministry hit wizards without even drawing her wand, she would not have been injured. Harry would have found her, and there would have been no ambush at all. As she had said, it was not the headmaster’s fault that Sirius had died, or even Harry’s. The blame was hers, and she would carry it with her for the remainder of her life.

These thoughts occupied Minerva’s mind all the way down to the dungeons, where she retrieved Harry’s Firebolt without incident. She remained caught up in her guilt the entire trip back to her office before realizing that she was doing exactly what the headmaster had been and pulling herself up short. Stop, she told herself sternly. You are doing no one any good. Albus’ words echoed in her head: "Self-blame can only go so far before it becomes self-pity." He, as always, was right. Minerva pushed the thoughts to the back of her head where they lingered, momentarily dismissed but not gone.

She spent the rest of the time before dinner marking finals; she had to grade everything but the O.W.L.’s and the N.E.W.T.’s herself. Most of the students had already left by the time Minerva walked into the Great Hall, though the majority of the staff still lingered at the High Table. The headmaster stood and pulled out her chair for her as she sat down.

"Good evening, Professor McGonagall," said Albus, eyes twinkling, as Minerva settled herself. "And what was Madam Pomfrey’s verdict?"

"Better than it could have been," Minerva replied. "As predicted, I am required to take potions. I will experience chest spasms if I am overworked or emotionally overwrought, but I did not plan on becoming either in any case." She said nothing about Harry looking for her the day of the attack.

"I am glad to hear that." The headmaster smiled. "Potatoes?"

The remainder of dinner was spent in pleasant small talk, knowing that they would have to speak of the war again all too soon. Eventually all of the students left and Minerva, Albus, Filius Flitwick, and Sylvia Sprout were the only staff members remaining. Finally they too finished and went their separate ways, but the headmaster stopped Minerva on the seventh floor landing.

"I neglected to tell you this earlier," Albus said, "but I have asked all the Heads of Houses to speak with their students about the attack on Thursday night. You may do this how and when you choose, of course. However, as many of your young lions do not know that you have returned, you might stop at Gryffindor Tower just now and- ah-’kill two birds with one stone,’ I believe the saying is." He gave Minerva an inquiring look.

Minerva was not at all eager to make a speech of that nature on the day of her return, especially because she herself had not entirely come to terms with the attack. Still, it had to be done sometime, so why not now? She was the head of Gryffindor, after all. "I think I shall," she finally replied, though she had no idea what she would say. Taking her leave of the headmaster, Minerva walked towards Gryffindor Tower.

[Dragonlady]

And now, The Speech. Or rather, The Speech That Nearly Got Cut Out Because I Hated It. I like it more now, though. Responses of any kind would be welcome-I live for reviews.

DISCLAIMER: AD AND MM REMAIN STRICTLY FRIENDS IN THIS FIC.

Most of her Gryffindors would be in the common room, she thought. It was after dark, but far too early for them to have gone to bed, especially considering the excitement of recent events. Recent events that I will have to speak about, Minerva thought, nodding absently to the Fat Lady’s, "Welcome back, Professor!" as the portrait swung open. And how would she address the subject?

The Fat Lady cleared her throat impatiently, still hanging wide open, and Minerva climbed inside rather awkwardly with a hasty apology. She knew the password to enter, of course; the prefects were required to tell her whenever they changed it. However, as Head of House she did not need it to enter Gryffindor Tower. The headmaster was the only one who did not need a password to get into any of the dormitories, though he seldom used that right.

She paused again at the threshold of the common room, taking the opportunity to observe her Gryffindors in a non-classroom environment. As she had thought, the room was packed, full of Gryffindors talking, reading, or playing games. Minerva’s eyes automatically searched out those who had been present at the Department of Mysteries, and she found them sitting by the fireplace. Ginny Weasley and Neville Longbottom were playing Exploding Snap, both occasionally looking at Harry Potter with concern. Harry was sitting in a corner of the room by himself, not even looking at everyone else in the common room. In fact, he looked as if he would have loved to be somewhere else. Minerva frowned as she studied him, thinking that something really had to be done.

Dennis Creevey was the first person to notice her presence. He turned around to speak to his brother, doing a double take as he saw Minerva standing in the doorway. "Pro- Professor McGonagall?!" he exclaimed loudly.

There was a sudden hush as everyone turned around, but then the noise level redoubled as more people exclaimed and nudged those who hadn’t been paying attention. Minerva cleared her throat loudly and demanded silence several times before she was confident that everyone would be able to hear her. She was flattered by the outright grins on many of the students’ faces.

"First of all," she said, pointedly staring at those who were still talking, "I would like two of you to make sure that there is no one remaining in the dormitories. It is necessary that all of you hear what I have to say." Chatter broke out again as Colin Creevey and Alicia Spinnet slipped upstairs, all of the students venturing guesses as to what Minerva was going to talk about. She herself wasn’t entirely certain of what she was going to say. As Alicia and Colin came back downstairs, a handful of Gryffindors trailing, Minerva wondered how on earth she was going to begin.

She needn’t have worried. Minerva had only just gotten the common room quiet again when a sixth-year boy asked, "It’s about the war, isn’t it, Professor?" That set off a barrage of questions.

"Is what’s in the Daily Prophet true?"

"Is You-Know-Who really back?"

"It’s Voldemort, and of course he’s back! He’s been back!" That was Ginny Weasley. Her statement caused shrieks, gasps, and another flurry of exclamations. Even Harry Potter had turned around to look at her.

"Silence!" Minerva finally shouted, and the noise abruptly stopped. In a calmer tone, she continued, "Miss Weasley is correct in her statement, if perhaps a bit overly vehement. And we would all, myself included, do well to call Voldemort by his name." She looked sternly at those who had flinched, straightening her glasses as she did so. "As Professor Dumbledore says, fear of a name only increases fear of a thing itself."

"But, Professor," piped up a first-year, cringing nervously as everyone turned to look at him, "what if it’s like it was last time? My parents said that You-Know-Who had everyone afraid because he kept making people disappear, and that’s why everyone’s afraid to say his name, because they’re scared it might happen again." He spoke quickly in one long sentence out of nervousness.

Giving the first-year what she hoped was a reassuring look, Minerva said, "Your parents were not entirely correct. Voldemort did cause people to disappear, but those of us who fight against him are making every effort to ensure that such disappearances will not occur in the future. However, saying Voldemort’s name will not bring him down upon us. It is only a feeble attempt to deny that he is real. I think that the Ministry of Magic has done enough of that already by only now, a year after Voldemort’s return, admitting that he has in fact come back."

"’Those of us who fight against him,’ you said," Neville Longbottom repeated as his fellow housemates looked at him in surprise. "What can we do to help?"

His rather unexpected question caused Minerva to look at him also, though in pride as well as surprise. This war truly was bringing out the best and the worst in people- the best in people like Neville and the Weasleys and the worst in people like Cornelius Fudge. "You can study hard, and learn all that you can," she replied. Seeing the incredulous glances from some of the students, she clarified, "This war will take its highest toll upon your generation. Many of you are no longer children and have already proven your allegiances. It is you who will bear the brunt of this war. It is you who are the future Healers, Aurors, teachers, and Ministry officials. This is your war as well, and you need to be prepared for it. Knowledge is power, if you will excuse the cliché. Learn all you can, and make the best use of what you learn. It, and you, will be needed. Six students were at the Department of Mysteries on Thursday night. What do you think would have happened if they had not paid attention in the Defense Against the Dark Arts club that many of you attended this year? Even if you do not fight, even if Voldemort is destroyed tomorrow, our future falls to you. It is you who are the future leaders." There were slow nods all around the common room.

"Professor, do you really think we’ll win?" She could not see the speaker, but the voice sounded both frightened and hopeful.

"I do not know that we will win," Minerva responded slowly, the words welling up from somewhere deep inside her. "But I believe that we can win. Voldemort was defeated once, and he can be defeated again. In a way he was defeated on Friday night. Many of his most powerful Death Eaters were captured, and the wizarding world has been alerted to his return. Yes, it takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to one such as he, but I am confident that we will rise to the challenge. We are Gryffindors, known for our bravery and courage. Bravery is not being unafraid, but rather facing that fear and continuing to fight despite it. And we will continue to fight, because if we do not, Voldemort would win. He would win, and fear, hatred, and prejudice would corrupt all that we love.

"We will fight not for personal gain, but for our family and friends, for our way of life, for the future of the magical community. We fight for our fellow human beings, and for the idea that blood does not make one witch or wizard better than the next. There are those who say that we need not fight because the Ministry will protect us, but if we do not act there will be no Ministry at all.

"Perhaps we will lose this war. Perhaps we will all die tomorrow. Only time can tell. A life without meaning is no life at all, and there are some things worth dying for. But remember this: even if Voldemort defeats us, he can never truly win. People can and do die, but goodness does not die with them. Goodness is more than just an abstract concept. It is an eternal force, and it can never truly be banished. Regardless of what happens to us or to Voldemort, there will always be goodness in this world. And in the end, it will prevail."

There was complete and total silence in the Gryffindor common room. It seemed as though time itself had stopped. The conviction in Minerva’s simple yet powerful words left all of the Gryffindors stunned for several moments, still trying to absorb what she had said.

It was Lee Jordan who broke the silence, opening and closing his mouth several times before speaking. "Wow, Professor," he said, blinking. "That was one hell of a speech."

[Dragonlady]

And that was the end of Chapter One. It was a lot easier to write than this next chapter, but I like this one a lot better. Review, please? (Though, since most of you have read this before, I completely understand if you choose not to. *grins*)

DISCLAIMER: AD AND MM REMAIN STRICTLY FRIENDS IN THIS FIC.

Chapter Two-Discussions

“Delubrum Minervae.” The bolts in the lock clicked open as Minerva uttered the password, and she stepped into her personal quarters with a relieved sigh. Lee Jordan’s comment had dispelled the somber atmosphere in the Gryffindor common room, and it had returned to normal in no time. Minerva had left soon after that. It had, after all, been a long and tiring day.

Conjuring herself a cup of tea, Minerva sat down in her favorite chair by the window. Her quarters consisted of three rooms—a bedroom, a bathroom, and the sitting room she was in now. The rooms were by no means opulent, but neither were they sparsely furnished. Because she was the head of Gryffindor the predominant colors were red and gold, warm colors that were altogether pleasant to come home to. The sitting room in particular was filled with various trinkets and mementos of her time teaching. An entire display case was filled with figurines from the headmaster, who found it amusing to give her cat statuettes each Christmas. The most recent one closely resembled Minerva’s Animagus form. A large painting of Hogwarts held pride-of-place over the fireplace, given to her by a former student years ago; it changed according to the season. Minerva gazed at the pleasant summer scene while she sipped her tea.

Now that her mind was no longer occupied with thinking of what to say to her Gryffindors, she found her thoughts returning to Harry Potter. She was disturbed by what she had seen of him in the Gryffindor common room. He had seemed dark and brooding, completely turned inward. He needed to see that pushing others away because of the prophecy would do more harm than good. Nor would blaming anyone accomplish anything, especially Albus, who blamed himself enough already for not telling Harry of the prophecy sooner. But the boy’s godfather had just died, so he had reason to be angry and depressed. Minerva closed her eyes at that, once again thinking that Sirius needn’t have died, if only she had been there when Harry had come looking for her the day of the attack.

But her tea was growing cold, and she was extremely tired, and she had sworn that she would stop blaming herself for something that she couldn’t change. She was not to blame any more than Albus or Harry were; everything that had happened was Lord Voldemort’s doing, and they all needed to remember that. Draining her cup, Minerva hauled herself to her feet and entered her bedroom, vanishing the tea things as she went. She changed into her nightgown and undid her trademark bun, braiding back her long black hair. She barely remembered to take the potions that Poppy Pomfrey had given her before climbing into her bed, which was looking more welcoming by the minute. Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort could wait until morning; she was going to sleep.

[Dragonlady]

If you reviewed, I would be eternally grateful.

DISCLAIMER: AD AND MM REMAIN STRICTLY FRIENDS IN THIS FIC.

She rose later than usual Monday morning, undoubtedly because of the stress of the day before. Dressing hastily, Minerva only just remembered to take her potions before heading to the Great Hall. Breakfast was in full swing as she entered. She had to reprimand several students for their boisterous behavior before she reached the High Table.

“Good morning, Professor Dumbledore,” she said as she sat down in her usual chair to the headmaster’s right. Serving herself breakfast, Minerva began to eat as he replied.

“And to you, as well,” he said with a smile, eyes twinkling. “What are your plans for this morning, if I may ask?”

Pouring herself some tea, Minerva answered, “I intend to finish marking the fourth years’ exams today. And I suppose I will venture into Umbridge’s office before lunch,” she finished reluctantly. She had been most displeased when she had seen Umbridge in the hospital wing the previous day; she would not have been at all unhappy had Albus left the woman in the Forbidden Forest with the centaurs. Minerva was not looking forward to sorting through Umbridge’s belongings, but it had to be done.

“I apologize, but it is necessary,” the headmaster said, echoing her thoughts. “Besides,” he added with another smile, “I rather think you will enjoy finding items that might incriminate Dolores.”

“I had not thought of the task in precisely that light,” Minerva admitted, feeling a certain amount of vengeful glee at causing trouble for Umbridge. The former High Inquisitor’s star at the Ministry had fallen quite rapidly after the attack in the Department of Mysteries, and a dubious item or two might be just the key to preventing it from rising ever again.

Chuckling at the look on her face, Albus asked, “And have you had an opportunity to tell Mr. Potter that his Quidditch ban has been revoked?” His smile faded as he glanced at Harry Potter, who was sitting at the Gryffindor table with Ginny Weasley and halfheartedly picking at his food.

“No, I have not. I shall speak with him later today—perhaps after lunch.” Looking from the headmaster to Harry and back, Minerva wished she could do more to help them both. But if wishes were fish we would walk on the sea... She changed the subject abruptly. “However, I have spoken to Gryffindor House about the attack. It went well,” she added when Albus gave her an inquiring look.

“Excellent.” Finishing his breakfast, the headmaster stood. “I shall see you at lunch, then, Professor McGonagall,” he said with a nod as he left.

After finishing breakfast, Minerva went to her office. She spent a large amount of the morning in the familiar routine of grading papers. Many of the Hogwarts teachers abhorred marking, but she was not one of them. Minerva found it comforting to lose herself in the well-known intricacies of Transfiguration; her love for the subject had not diminished over the years. She and the headmaster had spent many an enjoyable evening debating some of the more obscure theories and principles. Besides, she felt an enormous sense of accomplishment when her pupils improved over the course of the year, as almost all of the fourth years had done.

But no good thing lasts forever, and so it was that Minerva set Ginny Weasley’s paper atop the pile of marked exams about half an hour before lunch. She still had to go through Dolores Umbridge’s things. Using her walking stick to stand—she was quickly growing to hate the thing—Minerva went up to the third floor. The door of the Defense Against the Dark Arts office was closed, but unlocked. Checking the hallways for onlookers, she entered the room, closing the door behind her. It wouldn’t do for the Deputy Headmistress to be seen searching through the former High Inquisitor’s possessions.

Looking up, an expression of disgust appeared on Minerva’s face as she surveyed the room. It was, in a word, hideous. Every available surface had been covered in layers of lace. Several vases were filled with dry flowers; none of the arrangements matched. Each vase occupied its own doily. It was one of the walls, however, that made the room truly seem foul. There was a large collection of ornamental plates hanging there, each sporting a garishly bright kitten with a different bow around its neck. Minerva stared at the wall for a moment, repulsed. “A disgrace to felines everywhere!” she muttered, waving her wand. The plates flew off the wall and landed in a haphazard pile by the fireplace, thankfully out of sight.

Sitting at the desk, which was covered by an odious flowered tablecloth, Minerva spent the next fifteen minutes searching through Umbridge’s belongings. In addition to the normal teaching materials, there was a large amount of correspondence from the Minister of Magic. Minerva skimmed through each letter; most were filled with Cornelius Fudge’s customary bluster and pomposity. She put them away to read more closely later, along with copies of the various Educational Decrees. Those, perhaps, could be used for publicity purposes; she knew that many people would disapprove of the restrictions that Umbridge had placed upon Hogwarts. Minerva also found a small chest of potions. None were illegal, but most, especially the lesser truth potions, had almost certainly been used for negative purposes. There was an entire cabinet full of confiscated items, most of them innocuous, which also went into the pile of things to keep. They could be returned to their proper owners later (with the exception of a few things that had almost certainly belonged to the Weasley twins or Lee Jordan). It was the last thing she found, however, that turned Minerva’s intense dislike of Dolores Umbridge into what could only be described as hatred.

The bottom drawer of the desk was empty apart from a bundle of parchment and a black quill. Minerva placed the quill on the desk, lifting out the papers with a frown. She had been teaching Harry Potter for five years and had graded enough of his essays to recognize that it was his handwriting that covered the sheets of parchment. Minerva glanced through all of them; they were all covered with “I must not tell lies.” Undoubtedly Umbridge had made Harry do lines during his many detentions, though only Merlin knew why she had kept them.

But there was something odd about the ink that had been used. It was an unusual red-brown color, flaking off in some places. Minerva placed the papers on the desk and was about to dismiss them when her gaze fell on the quill that had been with them. She stood absolutely still as a horrible suspicion flashed through her mind. No. Surely not even Umbridge would have... Snatching up the black quill, Minerva peered at it closely. It was long and thin with an unusually sharp point. With a white-knuckled grip, she drew a line across the top of a sheet of parchment. She gasped in pain as a line of blood appeared on the parchment. The resulting cut on her hand faded to an angry red line, and Minerva stared at it, feeling ill.

It was a Blood Quill. Favored by Dark wizards, they had also been used by many of the old pure-blood families for the signing of oaths and other important documents. However, they had recently been declared illegal and the Ministry of Magic had confiscated almost all of them. It would have been easy for Dolores Umbridge to obtain one, assuming she hadn’t had one already.

Minerva put the quill back on the desk, her hands trembling in anger. Dolores Umbridge had deliberately injured students—no. She had forced them to injure themselves, which was even worse. How many students had been affected? Harry Potter, certainly. Probably Lee Jordan as well—Minerva remembered him coming into Transfiguration with a bandage on his hand shortly after he had served detention with Umbridge. Possibly more students from other houses, for she was only told of detentions when the recipients were in her house. Realizing that she was shaking and that her hands were clenched into fists, Minerva closed her eyes and counted to ten. The anger faded to a bearable level, only to be replaced by guilt.

Why had she not seen? Students had been injuring themselves because of small transgressions and she had not even noticed. Recalling what she had said to Harry Potter, Minerva winced. “She is your teacher and has every right to give you detention.” She remembered that she had even punished Harry further, taking points from Gryffindor when Umbridge had given him detention for the second time. Why had she not seen? Why had no one told her? She began to feel more angry again—at the students for not telling her, at herself for not noticing, and, especially, at Umbridge. Staring at the Blood Quill, Minerva almost wished that the toad-like woman was standing right in front of her.

The sound of students in the hallway outside told her that it was time for lunch. Casting Enlargement and Feather-Light charms on the bag she had brought, Minerva swept the papers on the desk, the potions, the confiscated items, and the quill into it and left the office. She headed towards her chambers to deposit the bag before going to lunch, still in a black mood. Students going downstairs scattered right and left as they saw the look on her face. So this is what it feels like to be Severus.

Upon reaching the Great Hall she sat down in her usual chair and served herself food with more force than was strictly necessary. She began to eat, thoughts of the Blood Quill filling her mind all the while. The dark expression on her face was sufficient to keep any of the staff from talking to her.

[ginger newts]

I think I've read this somewhere else, and I appologize wholeheartedly for never telling you how much I like it. It's really good and I can see this happening when she comes back. It's too bad they're only friends, but hey we can't have it our way all the time I guess. Keep up the good work!

[Dragonlady]

Thanks, Ginger Newts! There are reasons I didn't write this AD/MM, but I'll post them after I'm finished posting the story, I think.

This part gave me absolute hell, and the part with Minerva and Harry very nearly got cut out entirely. This is what it ended up being. Their conversation is rather lengthy (though not as long as the one with Albus that follows this), so I'll post it in multiple parts. It doesn't flow properly unless you read it all together.

Please reply!

DISCLAIMER: AD AND MM REMAIN STRICTLY FRIENDS IN THIS FIC.

“Is something amiss?” a quiet voice asked her some time later. She had not noticed when the headmaster came in. By this time Minerva’s anger had cooled somewhat, but her feeling of guilt had not diminished at all. She did not wish to discuss it with Albus, though, particularly not at the High Table in front of all the students and teachers.

“I have just finished going through Umbridge’s office,” Minerva replied, hoping that her statement would answer the question for itself. Glancing at the Gryffindor table, she saw Harry Potter stand up. She still wanted to talk to him, and it would prevent Albus from asking any more questions. She would tell him about the Blood Quill later. “If you will excuse me, I still need to speak with Mr. Potter regarding his Quidditch ban.” The headmaster nodded.

She intercepted Harry in the Entrance Hall. “Potter, come with me,” she ordered. She glanced at Ginny Weasley, who was not-so-unobtrusively lurking in the doorway to the Great Hall. “Alone, if you please.”

Minerva turned and began walking up the marble staircase without waiting to see if Harry would reply. He didn’t, and for some reason that irritated her. She knew it was irrational, and that she should try to be more understanding, but understanding and patience were simply not in Minerva’s nature.

She paused when they reached her office door, trying to collect her thoughts. This was not a discussion that Minerva wanted to enter without being fully in control of herself. She was beginning to think that speaking to Harry like this had not been such a good idea after all; she was intelligent enough to realize that dealing with emotions was not her strong suit. However, the Gryffindor that was in her wouldn’t allow her to simply give Harry his broom and let him leave. Someone who knew of the prophecy had to speak to him, and as the headmaster was obviously out, she was the only one left.

Harry coughed awkwardly, and Minerva realized that they were still standing outside of her office. She opened the door and gestured for Harry to precede her inside. “Sit,” she said, closing the door behind her. He did. She sat down behind her desk and looked at him. And so it begins.

[Dragonlady]

DISCLAIMER: AD AND MM REMAIN STRICTLY FRIENDS IN THIS FIC.

“You will be happy to hear,” Minerva began, “that the headmaster has seen to it that your Quidditch ban has been revoked.” She searched Harry’s face as she spoke, hoping that he would give her something, anything to work with. He remained expressionless, though a brief flicker of something crossed his face when she mentioned the headmaster. When she said nothing further, however, Harry spoke.

“Er—Professor? Can I go now?”

This annoyed Minerva further. She pressed her lips together disapprovingly. “No, Potter, you may not. “ To give herself some time, she thrust her tin of Ginger Newts at him. “Take one.” He obeyed. She looked around the room for inspiration, and her eyes fell on the bag by the door. Standing up abruptly, Minerva withdrew the Blood Quill and returned to her seat, placing the quill on her desk. “Would you care to explain this?”

Harry stared at it, recognition appearing on his face. “That’s Umbridge’s! It...it uses the writer’s blood for ink…” He trailed off.

“I know that, Potter,” Minerva replied irritably. “I am more interested in finding out how you know it.” He had inadvertently confirmed her suspicions about the detentions, but she hadn’t yet found out why no one had said anything to her.

Apparently realizing that he was treading on dangerous ground, Harry looked down at his hands as he muttered, “She made me use it to do lines in her detentions.”

“I see.” Minerva was remarkably proud that she managed to keep her voice level. “And is there a reason that you did not inform me of this at the time?”

“I—er—I didn’t think you’d be able to do anything about it.”

“You didn’t think I—“ Minerva stopped and took a deep breath. “Even if I couldn’t, did you think that the injuring of students would be ignored? Did it not occur to you, Mr. Potter, that Blood Quills are illegal and that perhaps, if you had told someone, Dolores Umbridge could have been removed from the school?”

Judging by the stricken look on Harry’s face, it hadn’t. “I didn’t know!” After seeing the unforgiving expression on Minerva’s face, his tone grew angrier. “I thought you’d be fired, Professor! I didn’t know how much authority you had over her. And I didn’t even know what that—that thing was! I didn’t know!” He sounded as if his excuses were directed more to himself than to Minerva.

She felt a flash of compassion but didn’t allow it to show on her face. Knowing what she was doing and hating herself for it, Minerva asked, “Then why did you not go to the headmaster? The lack of communication this year—“

“Lack of communication?” Harry interrupted loudly. He had stopped trying to control himself, as Minerva had known he would. She was grateful that she had thought to put a Silencing Charm on the door when she had gotten the Blood Quill. She couldn’t even begin to get through to Harry unless he talked to her; the problem was getting him to do so. She was not the headmaster; she wasn’t skilled at getting students to open up to her. Her only hope with Harry was to get him angry. But he had spoken again. “You’re telling me off because I kept things from Dumbledore? He’s the one who was keeping things from me! He forced me to learn Occlumency from Snape, of all people, and he wouldn’t even tell me the real reason why! He kept me locked at the Dursleys’ last summer! He wouldn’t talk to me all year! And the prophecy—“ He broke off abruptly, breathing hard, realizing even through his anger that the prophecy wasn’t something that should be brought up with just anyone.

And now we come to it, Minerva thought. “I know what the prophecy says, Potter.”

“You—you know? But it was destroyed…unless…Dumbledore. You mean, all of you knew? Everyone in the bloody Order knew, and no one told me?” He looked ready to explode again, and Minerva hurried to cut him off.

“Professor Dumbledore did, in fact, tell me, but—“ she held up a hand to stop Harry’s incipient outburst, “I only found out yesterday, when I reported to him upon returning from St. Mungo’s. The Order only knows that there is a prophecy concerning you and He—Voldemort. They are not aware of its contents.”

“Why you, then? Why do you know when no one else does?”

Minerva wasn’t irritated at his question, though his tone had been insulting. Why me, indeed? She didn’t know the answer. “The headmaster is human too. He felt that he needed to tell someone, and for his own reasons, he chose me. Don’t blame him, Potter. Harry. He blames himself enough already, for—for Sirius’ death.”

Harry, who had stood up while he was shouting, sank back down into his chair. “He shouldn’t,” he muttered. “It’s my fault. Hermione said that I have a ‘saving-people-thing,’ and she was right. If…if I hadn’t gone…” He trailed off.

“It wasn’t your fault any more than it was the headmaster’s. It was no one’s fault but Voldemort’s.”

“Voldemort.” Harry stared at his hands. “I have to kill him, you know.”

“I know.” Minerva sighed.

“Have you ever killed anyone, Professor?”

“Yes, I have.” Harry looked up sharply. “During the war with Grindelwald. It was perhaps the hardest thing that I have ever had to do.” Minerva’s tone made it clear that the subject was closed.

Harry looked down again. “Maybe I should just go after him. Voldemort. So that no one else gets hurt. I still think that Sirius getting—getting killed was my fault. And my friends might’ve, too. I should just get it over with.”

“That is exactly what you must not do, Potter!” Minerva exclaimed, feeling what was almost panic at the thought of fifteen year-old Harry going after Voldemort. Her chest twinged, and she forced herself to calm down, remembering what Poppy had said about chest spasms. “That kind of attitude is pointless, selfish, and could very likely get all of us killed.”

“What?” He sounded confused and annoyed.

[Dragonlady]

DISCLAIMER: AD AND MM REMAIN STRICTLY FRIENDS IN THIS FIC.

And with that, Minerva was off. She spoke to him as clearly as she could, her voice devoid of pity, trying to make him understand what she was saying. She did her best to articulate everything that she had been feeling since the headmaster had told her of Sirius’ death and the prophecy—that guilt served no purpose, that Harry was not the only one who grieved, that blaming the headmaster did nothing, that going after Voldemort unprepared and alone was not the right thing to do, and most importantly, that none of this was his fault. She also tried to impress that Harry wasn’t alone.

“My friends, though!” he burst out after a long interval. “Why did they insist on going? They could’ve been killed! And everyone except Luna was hurt.”

Minerva looked at him for a long moment. “Potter,” she asked, “what would you do if Ron Weasley had a vision that one of his family members was being attacked and he wanted to go save them?”

“I’d go with him, of course,” Harry responded automatically, his irritated tone making it clear that he thought the question was irrelevant.

“And if he said that you shouldn’t go, that he wouldn’t want you to be injured on his behalf?”

“I’d go anyway. It’s my choice to—“ He blinked. “Oh.”

Minerva smiled. “Precisely. Your friends chose to accompany you of their own free wills. And if I were you, Potter, I would not push them away in the future. You need them, and they need you.”

There was silence, and Minerva decided that it was best to end the conversation where it was. She had said what she wanted to say, and it was Harry’s choice whether or not to make use it. She reached under her desk and pulled out his Firebolt. “I suppose you’ll be wanting this.”

“My Firebolt!” he exclaimed, taking the offered broomstick eagerly. “But—what about Ginny? She’s Seeker now.”

“While Miss Weasley made a more than adequate Seeker this year, her level of skill in that position does not compare to yours. However, I would be extremely surprised should she not make the team next year—I believe she intends to try out as a Chaser. If that is all you wished to say, you may go. Your friends will undoubtedly be wondering why I have kept you so long.”

Harry got up and walked to the door, Firebolt in one hand. As he opened the door, he paused and looked back. “Professor?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks.” It was obvious that he was referring to more than the Firebolt.

Minerva smiled. “You’re welcome, Harry.”

[Dragonlady]

DISCLAIMER: AD AND MM REMAIN STRICTLY FRIENDS IN THIS FIC. (though a bit of this part, and more of the next, have subtext galore)

She lingered at the High Table that night at supper, content to simply sit and watch the students. She was even more tired than she’d been yesterday, but she felt that the results were well worth the trouble. Harry was again sitting with Ginny Weasley and Neville Longbottom, cleaning his plate for the first time since Minerva’s return. She looked up as the headmaster sat down. “Good evening, Professor McGonagall,” he said.

“Good evening,” she replied, nodding. Albus served himself from the platters in front of them before turning back to her.

“I believe you said at lunch that you had sorted through Dolores Umbridge’s possessions,” he said, keeping his voice low enough that none of the students could hear them.

Minerva kept her voice low as well. “I did. I took her papers, some potions, a drawer full of confiscated items, and—something else,” she finished, deciding that it was best not to mention the Blood Quill in front of the other teachers, some of whom were looking their way. “I shall bring them to your office at your convenience.”

“Later tonight, perhaps? The confiscated items will need to be returned to their proper owners before the end of term.”

“With the exception of a few things that almost certainly belonged to the Weasley twins of Lee Jordan, yes.” The headmaster chuckled as Minerva stood up and reached for her walking stick. “Until later, then.”

*******

Minerva approached the stone gargoyle and gave the password. She stepped onto the moving staircase, closing her eyes as it carried her upward. As much as she valued her conversations with Albus, she was incredibly weary. However, Minerva had no desire to make the headmaster worry about her, and she knew that would have been inevitable had she declined his invitation. She opened her eyes as she reached the top of the staircase, grasped the knocker and knocked three times.

“Come in, Minerva.” Albus’ voice was amused. The door swung open on its own and she entered.

“How did you know it was me?” Minerva asked, entering the office and closing the door behind her. At Albus’ gesture, she deposited the bag of Umbridge’s things by the desk and sat down in her usual chair by the fireplace, leaning her walking stick against the wall.

The headmaster walked out from behind his desk, his bright blue eyes twinkling down at her. “Of all of the faculty who knock at that door, my dear, you are the only one who does so precisely three times. The students’ knocks, of course, are so quiet that they can barely be heard. Hot chocolate? I have acquired a new supply of marshmallows.”

Minerva sniffed with disdain. “If you insist, but absolutely no marshmallows, if you please, and a very small amount of sugar.” Albus chuckled as he searched the room for two clean mugs. Minerva leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, smile fading. This was what she loved, this pleasant conversation between two old and very dear friends. However, she feared that there would not be as many of these conversations in the future. The war was starting; it had already begun. Merely thinking about the horrors that she knew would come made Minerva feel every one of her years and then some, as well as making her even more tired than she was.

“Perhaps this was not such a good idea after all.” Minerva hastily opened her eyes and sat up, cursing herself and her bad timing as she saw that concern had replaced the twinkle in Albus’ blue eyes. Two steaming mugs of hot chocolate were in his hands. “You look exhausted.”

“Nonsense,” Minerva replied, deliberately keeping her tone brisk. However, when the headmaster continued to gaze at her concernedly, she sighed. “Really, Albus, I’m quite well,” she went on more softly. “Just a bit tired, and I daresay that your hot chocolate will cure that as much as anything else would.”

After keeping his penetrating gaze trained on her for a moment more, Albus relented. “If you insist.” He handed Minerva one of the mugs in his hand and sat in the chair across from her. Neither spoke, both occasionally sipping their hot chocolate. The silence grew, and after a moment Minerva became uncomfortable.

“I spoke to Mr. Potter regarding his Quidditch ban,” Minerva said abruptly, setting her mug down on a nearby side-table with a faint tic.

The headmaster also set down his hot chocolate. “Did you indeed? And how did Mr. Potter react?”

“He did not react at all, at first.” Minerva frowned.

Albus sighed. “I had hoped that he would be more pleased.” His deputy huffed exasperatedly.

“Really, Albus, what did you expect? The boy’s godfather has just died-by no fault of his or yours, I might add-and he is supposed to be ecstatic about Quidditch? Might I remind you that it was Sirius who gave him the broom in the first place?”

The headmaster smiled faintly. “You are, of course, correct.” He sat forward and fixed Minerva with his gaze once more. “But pray tell what you meant by ‘at first’?”

“After I had…er, talked with Mr. Potter for quite some time, at the end of our conversation he expressed concern about whether or not young Ginny Weasley would affect his being on Quidditch team,” Minerva replied. “He did not want to give up the position, nor did he wish to supplant her. I told him that things would likely work out for the best, given that the girl originally wished to be a Chaser anyway.” There, she thought. Entirely true.

Albus nodded. “Good.” Then, his expression more serious, he continued, “And, if I may ask, what else did you and Harry talk about?” When Minerva hesitated, he added, “You need not tell me if you do not wish to.” It was the almost undetectable sense of bitter irony in his tone-the secrets that he had kept from Harry had cost so much, and now Harry was, albeit rather indirectly, keeping secrets from him-that decided her. Now, how to go about this?

[Dragonlady]

DISCLAIMER-AD AND MM REMAIN STRICTLY FRIENDS IN THIS FIC. (Hooray, subtext...)

Minerva took a deep breath and let it out audibly. “If you will excuse my dramatic oversimplification, I suppose it could be said that I told Harry that his attitude was entirely pointless-not to mention selfish-and could very likely get all of us killed.”

The headmaster stared, and a part of Minerva felt smug that, after all these years, she had finally surprised him. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me, Albus,” Minerva said. When he continued to stare, she gave an impatient sigh and clarified, “Of course, I said a great deal more. However, essentially I told Mr. Potter that his attitude was, as I said, pointless, selfish, and could very likely get us all killed.”

Albus seemed to have regained his powers of coherent speech. “Would you care to explain further?”

“I suppose,” Minerva replied. After taking another sip of her hot chocolate, she continued, “As for being selfish, I told Harry that he did not have exclusive rights to grief and loss, even over Mr. Black, and used one Remus Lupin as an example. Nor is he the only one who feels guilt over Sirius’ death, however misplaced that guilt may be.” Here Minerva paused and looked at Albus sternly before moving on. “I also pointed out, kindly I hope, that Sirius is indeed dead, and that no amount of grief or guilt will bring him back. Harry is not alone by any means-he has his friends, who have proved the depth of that friendship beyond all doubt by accompanying him to the Department of Mysteries; he has the Order, who will stand by any and all who forsake He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named; and he has the majority of the Hogwarts staff, ourselves undoubtedly included. I reminded him of all of this as well.” She stopped again, draining her mug, rebuking herself as she realized that she had once again forgotten to call Voldemort by his name.

The twinkle in the headmaster’s eyes had returned, if a bit dimmer than it had been at the start of the evening. “I believe that eliminates pointless and selfish. However, you have failed to provide me with an adequate explanation of how Mr. Potter’s attitude could result in our collective demise.” He refilled Minerva’s now-empty mug with a wave of his wand, and she nodded in thanks.

Minerva took a deep breath and let it out, preparing herself to continue her explanation. The conversation was not going as badly as she had feared it would, but she was still nervous, and above all did not want to cause Albus to feel more guilty than he already did. “Is it not obvious, Albus? Mr. Potter may indeed be the future savior of our world, but he is also an adolescent, and a rebellious, angry and grieving one at that. If you will forgive my pessimistic view, we have gained only a temporary respite by the Ministry’s acknowledgement of Y-of Voldemort's-return. Things are inevitably bound to get worse, even though some of Voldemort’s minions have been captured. If the situation worsens, Mr. Potter will almost certainly act precipitously and go after Voldemort himself, because of his knowledge of the prophecy concerning him, and there is a very good chance that this will happen before he completes his schooling.”

“I will not allow that to happen-“ the headmaster began, but Minerva interrupted, allowing her growing anger and frustration to get the better of her and ignoring the twinge in her chest.

“How will you stop it, Albus? You did not stop him from going after the Philosopher’s Stone, or into the Chamber of Secrets, or going to the Department of Mysteries!” Minerva saw the flash of hurt in Albus’ eyes and knew she had gone too far, but plunged on, not able to stop. “He will go after Voldemort, and if he goes unprepared, he will die! Prophecy or not, Boy-Who-Lived or not, he is not even through school! What he needs to realize is that this is not about him, this is about the wizarding world. Yes, he is the only who can kill Voldemort, yes, he is the only one who can win this war. But if he goes before he is ready, he will die, and if he dies, who will be there to stop Voldemort from destroying us? No matter how many lives he thinks he will be saving if he acts before it is time, a hundred times more will be lost if he kills himself in the process!” She paused, breathing heavily. Somewhere in the midst of her diatribe she had risen from her seat and begun to pace the area close to the fireplace, forgetting all about the hated walking stick, though she suddenly wished she had its support to lean on. Albus was watching her with sad eyes, and with that one look at him all of her anger at Harry immediately was replaced with anger at herself and a sadness so immense that she had to bite back tears. “Good heavens, Albus, I-I am sorry, I don’t know what I-“ But the emotional stress of the past little while had finally grown too much, and the pressure that had been steadily growing in her chest suddenly erupted into agonizing pain. Minerva stumbled back to sag against the fireplace, one hand going to her heart as her eyes squeezed shut. “Oh, Merlin-“

“Minerva!”

[angharad]

I've really been enjoying this!

[Dragonlady]

Thanks, Angharad! I love your stories.

DISCLAIMER: AD AND MM REMAIN STRICTLY FRIENDS IN THIS FIC. (Though this part gets downright shippy if you read between the lines.)

“Minerva!” Albus’ sharp exclamation was drowned out by the burning in her chest, by the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears. Her breathing, already shallow and labored from emotional tension and pain, became an agonized gasping for the air that seemed to be purposefully eluding her. Blackness threatened to engulf her, and Minerva fought back with all her strength, trying desperately to remain conscious. Dimly she was aware of the headmaster supporting her, easing her back down into her chair, but was too busy fighting the pain and trying not to collapse to reassure him. Finally the pain began to ebb and her breathing became more effective, and Minerva was able to open her eyes.

She was sitting in her armchair again, white-knuckled hands grasping the armrests. Albus was bending over her, his hands lightly grasping her wrists. His face was extremely concerned, even alarmed, but relaxed considerably as she tried to smile. “Are you all right?” he asked, releasing her and stepping back. “Shall I escort you to Madam Pomfrey?”

“No,” Minerva replied as quickly as she could, taking deep breaths. “No, thank you, it has passed, and Poppy would do nothing but fuss and remind me to take my potions, as I did just before coming here.”

The headmaster looked her over for a long moment, taking in the determined set of her jaw, before sighing and resuming his own seat. “If you insist.” He said nothing more, seemingly wanting his deputy to restart the conversation.

Minerva desperately wanted a sip of her hot chocolate, but didn’t take it, knowing that the inevitable trembling of her hands would not help her case. Instead, she cleared her throat and asked a trifle unsteadily, “Now, where were we?”

“I believe,” replied Albus, still studying her, “that you were remarking on how Mr. Potter will eventually get himself, and therefore all of us, killed if he continues on his current path.” Minerva opened her mouth to apologize again, but Albus held up a hand to forestall her. “And I must reluctantly say that you are most likely correct.”

Minerva closed her mouth, noticing that the twinkle in Albus’ eyes had not returned. Nor was it likely to, given her previous words and actions. But perhaps there was still a way to salvage the situation. “I must apologize, again. However, though I meant what I said earlier, I did not mean to imply that the situation is irretrievable. Perhaps if we can find a way to convince Harry that he is not alone, he will not act precipitously. His friends will undoubtedly help in that endeavor, and Harry himself seemed to be encouraged when I reminded him of his friendships.” She paused for a long moment before adding, much more softly, and not intending it to be heard, “I suppose what bothers me the most is that I have been, and am, entirely ineffective.”

For the second time that night, the headmaster looked astonished. “Ineffective? Why in Merlin’s name do you say that? You are anything but.”

It was Minerva’s turn to look surprised. “How can you say that? When, had I not lost control of my temper, I might have prevented Sirius’ death? When I went to her last night, Poppy told me that Harry had come looking for me in the hospital wing, before trying to break into Umbridge’s office. He went looking for me, Albus! Had I been there, had I not been fool enough to get myself injured, the whole crisis might have been averted! I used to be an Auror, for Merlin’s sake! I ought to have known better than to go charging towards four Ministry wizards in the dark without even pulling out my wand. I ought to have known better,” she repeated more softly. “I should have been there for him.”

“Minerva.” Albus leaned forward and fixed her with his piercing blue gaze. “As a very wise woman once told me, guilt regrettably does not change the fact that Sirius Black is dead. What happened, happened, and we must not allow ourselves to dwell on might-have-beens. Sirius’ death was not of your making. This was not your fault. As you yourself said, it was not anyone’s fault.”

“I was not speaking only of Sirius’ death,” Minerva countered, not at all sure why she was persisting. She wished she hadn’t said anything at all. “I was also referring to the entirety of this school year. The High Inquisitor,” she said, her tone conveying her opinion of the woman, “had a Blood Quill among her possessions. She made the students use it to do lines in her detentions. And there I was, telling Peeves which way the chandeliers unscrewed, while the students whom I am sworn to protect were injuring themselves because of petty misdemeanors that may or may not have been committed in the first place.”

“You could not have known.”

“But I should have known.”

“You could not have known,” the headmaster repeated more forcefully. “Even if you had known, you would not have been able to do anything about it. Because of the folly of the Ministry, Dolores Umbridge was given absolute control of Hogwarts in my absence. Though I assure you,” his voice hardened, “the issue of the Blood Quill will be dealt with. Your openly opposing her would only have resulted in your removal from the school as well, depriving your students of the help you could give them. You are a strong woman, Minerva, a lioness who does her utmost to protect her cubs. Do not cause yourself more pain than you already have by berating yourself for things you had no control over. And you are not and have never been ineffective. I have said it before, and I will repeat it again now-Hogwarts needs you. You have always done well by it, and I am confident that you will continue to do so in the future.”

Minerva let a breath out slowly. The headmaster was right; she had been being irrational. There was nothing she could have done that would not have gotten her fired or worse. And the rest…well. She had known Albus for over sixty years, and had looked up to him for all of that time. For him to give her such praise meant a great deal to her. It was also worth thinking about, for she had never known him to give praise that was not deserved. “You are, as always, correct. I was wrong to be so self-pitying, and I am honored beyond words that you think so highly of me.” Tearing her eyes away from Albus’ intense gaze, she looked around the room, starting visibly when she saw the clock. “Good heavens, is that the time? I apologize, but I really ought to be going.”

Albus said nothing more, but instead stood and helped Minerva to rise before offering her the walking stick. “How I abhor that piece of wood,” she muttered. The headmaster’s mustache twitched.

They walked to the door together, and as Minerva opened it, the headmaster stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Minerva. The Roman goddess of wisdom. You live up to your namesake, my dear. Never forget that.”

She flushed. “Oh-I-Thank you, Albus.”

He smiled, and the twinkle was back in his eyes. “Thank you, Minerva. Good night.”

[Dragonlady]

DISCLAIMER: AD AND MM REMAIN STRICTLY FRIENDS IN THIS FIC.

Minerva was extremely grateful that the rest of term passed without incident. She spent the last few days before summer doing nothing more exciting than grading exams. So much had happened over the past few days, and everyone seemed to be relieved that the school year would soon be over so that they could rest.

The Order of the Phoenix did not hear anything new concerning Voldemort. His whereabouts were unknown, though they had checked places where he had been known to stay in the past. Severus Snape had not been called in, and the general opinion was that Voldemort had made a temporary retreat because of the attack. The wizarding world was now aware of his return, and many of his most powerful Death Eaters had been captured. As Minerva had told the Gryffindors, the attack in the Department of Mysteries had actually been a victory in many ways.

She did not speak to Harry again; neither she nor the headmaster saw any need. The boy was coping, and Minerva was of the opinion that they needed give him time to heal fully. Besides, Harry had plenty of people eager to look after him, as was evidenced by what she found out three nights before the end of term. Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley had been released from the hospital wing earlier that day.

“Did you know that Nymphadora Tonks was discharged this afternoon?” Albus asked, sounding immensely amused for some unfathomable reason. They were sitting in his office by the fireplace, playing chess. It was a favorite evening pastime of theirs, blessedly normal. Both were experienced players, equally skilled, which made for interesting games. It was Minerva’s turn, and she looked up from the board with interest at the headmaster’s question.

“I am pleased to hear that. But what, pray tell, is so amusing?” She moved a knight. “Check.”

Albus moved his king out of harm’s way. “I was at Grimmauld Place when she arrived. Apparently she and Remus were talking while she was in hospital. They, as well as Alastor Moody and the Weasleys, requested and received permission to meet Mr. Potter’s relatives at King’s Cross and inform them that they will not tolerate any mistreatment of Harry over the summer. It should be quite…interesting. I almost wish that I could be present.”

It was impossible for Minerva to restrain a smile at that. “As do I.” She moved a piece on the chess board, her smile growing wider. “Checkmate.”

Dolores Umbridge attempted to escape from Hogwarts unnoticed the day before the end of term. She had elected not to be present at the last staff meeting of the year, which had occurred earlier that day. Minerva was walking down to dinner when she saw Umbridge scurrying as fast as she could towards the Entrance Hall, chased by Peeves, who was whacking her with a sock of chalk. Both of them slowed as they saw the Deputy Headmistress, Peeves clearly worried that she was about to spoil his fun.

“Minerva!” panted Umbridge, gasping and out of breath. “Please—“

Feeling a decidedly wicked smile emerge on her face, Minerva said, “No, Dolores, I don’t think I will. Peeves!”

The grin on the poltergeist’s face matched Minerva’s own as she handed him her walking stick. “Why thank you, your Professorship! I’ll be sure to return it to you.”

“See that you do,” replied Minerva, though the smile that was still on her face belied the stern teacher-like tone. Feeling altogether satisfied, she continued to the Great Hall, though she was using the wall for support by the time she reached her seat. The headmaster rose to help her sit down, looking concerned.

“Where—“

But he was interrupted. All heads turned as a Gryffindor at the far end of the hall stood up and shouted, “It’s Umbridge! She’s getting away!”

Pandemonium erupted. There was a mass exodus of students as everyone crowded into the Entrance Hall to run cheering after Umbridge. The teachers, Minerva included, made a few halfhearted attempts to restrain them, but most looked quite happy themselves. Finally students began to trickle back into the Great Hall.

“Thank Merlin that hag’s finally gone,” said Seamus Finnegan as he and Dean Thomas resumed their seats near the High Table.

“Yeah, even Peeves was glad,” said Dean with a chuckle. “Did you see? He was whacking her with chalk and a walking stick.” Both students grinned evilly as they reached for their food.

Albus looked at Minerva, blue eyes dancing from behind his half-moon spectacles. “A walking stick?”

Minerva smiled, feeling happier than she had in a long time. “I would have run after her myself, had Peeves not borrowed my walking stick.” Many of the students had heard and looked at her incredulously as she sat back in her chair, still smiling.

The headmaster simply chuckled.

*The End*

[Dragonlady]

Well, that's it. *sigh* Now I'm going to go into extremely-long-AN mode. This is the first fanfic that I've completed, and my favorite of the ones I've written, if that's not bragging. I figured that I should post why I didn't make this AD/MM, though, since I do ship them (I wouldn't be here if I didn't). First, I can't write it. I've tried, and it turned out horribly. Also, while I'd love it if she did, I don't think JKR will come right out and make them canon (though the subtext in the books certainly suggests it). I'm a stickler for canon. Besides, I picture their love as being unspoken, unacknowledged, but unquestionably there, and I've tried my best to convey that. You'll have to tell me how well I did.

Also, I don't want to write myself into a corner. I actually do have three upcoming HP projects planned. The first is a one-shot that'll probably be called 'A Chandelier,' explaining how Minerva knew which way the chandelier unscrewed, featuring Albus and school-aged James and Sirius. The second is doing all of OOtP from Minerva's POV, because I enjoyed writing this so much, but I'm going to have to do a couple of months of preliminary work prior to the actual writing for the story to come out the way I want it to.

The third project is doing Minerva's life from her childhood to Harry's Sorting. This is what I was talking about when I said I didn't want to back myself into a corner. I have several ideas about what Minerva's life was like, and I'm trying to keep all of my options open so I don't have a problem later. It probably won't be written for a very long time, if at all, but it's something that I'd really like to do. There are a couple of OC's I'm thinking about that'll be a lot of fun to write.

*close rambling* And finally, I want to thank everyone for giving me such great feedback on this story. Everyone's been incredibly supportive, and I'm grateful that I was allowed to post this here at all. *waves to mods* Thanks!

[ArabellaFiggs]

Wow you are a great writer. I can't wait to see more work from you. I loved this story. It's so well written. Thanks.

[KayleeTonksLupin]

Dragonlady, you're GOOD! I like this story, I hope you'll post others here. If you have could you direct me to them? Ty!

[JKMcGonagall]

Dragonlady, I really enjoyed this story. It is excellent and I will look forward to more stories by you. I think you did an excellent job keeping to canon. Your Minerva is a very powerful witch, not just with spells, but with words too. Please write more for us.