An Unusual Alliance

[MinnieQuill]

An Unexpected Alliance

Author's note: - Whilst the Weasley Twins are inventive; I personally believe that they had a 'push' in a different direction in 'The Order of the Phoenix.' They're pranks certainly became more inventive, and more complex. This is my take on what happened. Also, there is slight ADMM. It's not in your face, but is there is you look really closely.

Disclaimer: - I do not own Harry Potter. JKR can take credit

Dedication: - For Jane.

---

Chapter 1: - The Beginning of a Wonderful Friendship

Minerva McGonagall tapped her nails irritably on her desk as she glared out the window. Her class (2nd year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws) were attempting their assigned task with more enthusiasm than was normal, though she did admit that her declaration to 'demonstrate human transfiguration on the next person who so much as spoke out of turn' may have had something to do with their docility. Her grey eyes narrowed as they focused on Hagrid's Care of Magical Class which was being held next to the Forbidden Forest. She could see the squat form of Dolores Umbridge from her high vantage point (keen long vision was one of the benefits of being a cat animagus despite what her spectacles may suggest ,) and the mere sight of the woman's pink cardigan made her blood boil.

She, Minerva McGonagall, was on probation. Probation! She ground her teeth together, eliciting startled glances from the two students in the front row, but her rapacious glare ensured they returned to their snails. Her hand reached out of its own accord, and snatched the piece of pink parchment from her desk. Though she knew the content of the note by heart, she read it again.

Dear Minerva,
As High Inquisitor, it is my duty to inform you that you have been placed under probation for an indefinite period of time. As part of your probation, your pay will be reduced. We hope this does not inconvenience you.
Sincerely
The High Inquisitor

Minerva threw the note back on the desk, and folded her arms across her chest. Her gaze fell back to the window. Umbridge was walking back toward the castle, and by the way she seemed to 'bounce' as if she had springs in her feet, Minerva knew that Hagrid's inspection had not gone well. The bell rang, and there was a mad scramble for the door. Her students jostled with each other, and elbows were used to great effect as they attempted to squeeze through the door simultaneously.

“One moment,” Minerva called.

There was an eerie silence as the jostling ceased, and she saw many of the students hunch their shoulders forward as if expecting her to blow them into oblivion.

“Homework. A three-foot essay on changing invertebrates into buttons.”

There was none of the usual groans of protest, and they immediately surged forward again at a pace that was nearly a run. Minerva leant back in her chair. It was quite amusing if she were honest. Her gaze flittered back to the note on her desk, and she hissed (another animgaus trait). Her glare must have been intense, for the parchment burst into flames. Minerva didn't bat an eyelid, and the note soon burnt itself out, leaving a small mass of ash on the polished wood.

Minerva waved her wand, the ash disappeared instantly. Her next class of 7th years began to filter in, all looking apprehensively at her, and she knew that the second years had warned them of her mood. They sat down, eying her warily, and Minerva cleared her throat.

“We will be starting to conjure live animals today...”

Her voice trailed off as Fred and George Weasley entered the room. Silence fell, but the two didn't seem to notice.

“You two!” Minerva barked.

Her words were spoken with such vehemence that her teeth clicked together, and the twins jumped and turned toward her.

“10 points from Gryffindor each. Sit down.”

They obeyed instantly, and Minerva allowed herself a brief moment of satisfaction, before returning her attentions to the rest of the class.

“As I was saying...” She glared at Fred and George who looked suitably contrite. “We will be starting to conjure live animals. By the end of this lesson, I want everyone to have successfully conjured a rat. 50 points to the person who does it first.”

There was flurry of movement as wands were withdrawn from bags, and the room was soon full of muttered incantations. Minerva rose to her feet and began to roam between the desks, correcting pronunciation and wand movements, when there was a loud crack from behind her. She whirled around to find Fred and George embroiled in a cloud of dark smoke. They were coughing, and she waved her wand to clear the black cloud.

Two identical, white rats were sitting on the desks, their conjurers beaming at them. Minerva allowed a small smile to cross over her face, and nodded her head.

“Very good, boys. 100 points to Gryffindor.”

Their mouths dropped. She had never so much as given them one point before, let alone one hundred. She turned on her heel, and marched back to her desk. Perhaps this day wasn't a complete disaster, she mused as she perused the homework she had taken from her fourth years earlier that morning. They couldn't hold her attention for very long, and she set them aside neatly and looked forward. The class was working smoothly, and there were now six more rats sitting on the desks.

She looked back at Fred and George, and the corners of her mouth tightened. They had vanished their rats, and were now absorbed by a piece of parchment they held between them. Minerva flicked her wand and the said parchment flew toward her. The twins' heads jerked upright, and she saw them exchange a look of horror between them, before turning their attentions to her. Their eyes were wide and pleading as Minerva pocketed the parchment, and she gave them a cold look.

The bell rang, and they lingered behind. Minerva pretended to return her attention to her marking as they shuffled forward, looking down at the floor.

“Professor,” Fred said softly. “May we have our parchment back, please?”

Minerva looked down at them over the top of her spectacles. “Certainly not,” she said crisply. “I will not have you passing notes in class.”

“But..” George interjected.

“No, Mr. Weasley. Now leave before I take points from Gryffindor.”

The two glared at her and jutted their chins forward. Minerva raised one eyebrow, and her lip curled in amusement. The fact they thought they could intimidate her was laughable. They recognised that she wasn't to be placated, and left the classroom slowly, shooting her a malevolent glare as they left.

Minerva withdrew the parchment as soon as their footsteps faded around the corner. She unfolded the paper, and a smile spread across her face as she began to read.

They were becoming more imaginative. She'd grant them that.

---

Minerva rested her feet on her coffee table, and let out a sigh of exhaustion. It was eleven o'clock at night, and she was tired. The toad woman had called her up at 6 am for a 'staff meeting' and she had just returned from her patrol. Minerva's eyes fell on the parchment she had confiscated from the Weasley's and a smile flickered across her face.

If she helped them...

She shook her head roughly. The idea was preposterous, ridiculous, ludicrous even, but maybe if she just gave them a push in the right direction...

There was a loud 'bang' from outside her chambers, and Minerva hissed as she leapt to her feet. She marched across the length of her rooms, and opened the door viciously. Her eyes narrowed as she scanned the halls, and she inhaled deeply.

There was definitely someone there. The faint scent of cologne was unmistakable.

She stepped out into the corridor, tying the sash of her peignoir tightly around her waist. Her tread was light as she padded down the hall, her eyes darting left-and-right as she searched for the reason for the noise. She rounded a corner, and had to put a hand over her mouth to stop herself laughing.

Fred Weasley hung by one foot from a crystal chandelier. He glared at her, but the effect was ruined by his situation.

Minerva stepped forward, and with a flick of her wand, Fred was standing upright. She raised an eyebrow in question, and he looked down at the floor, his cheeks flaring a scarlet that clashed horribly with his hair.

“George and Lee,” he muttered.

“I see.”

He looked up at her, and his eyes widened at the smile she was bestowing on him.

“Erm...Professor?” he queried.

She waved her hand, effectively silencing him, and gestured for him to walk alongside her. Fred hesitated for a brief moment, but soon fell into step with her long strides. Neither spoke as they walked toward the Gryffindor Tower, though Fred kept looking at her out of the corner of his eye. They passed a stature of Edward the Edwardian Elf when he grabbed her arm and pushed her down.

“Mr. Weasley...” she began, struggling to escape from his tight grip.

He shook his head urgently, and she fell silent when she saw the barely restrained panic in his eyes. They were crouched for several more pregnant moments before Fred nodded that it was safe, and pulled her to her feet.

“Can you explain...?” she asked softly.

Fred shrugged his shoulders. “Umbridge. She caught George and I last week and...” His voice trailed off, and he shrugged again.

“And?” she pressed.

“It's nothing, Professor.”

Minerva raised a skeptical eyebrow, but Fred still did not speak. “You do realise,” she said eventually, “That because you were with me, she couldn't have punished you?”

Fred's eyes widened, and color flooded to his cheeks. “Sorry, Professor...” he said, running his fingers through his hair. “I...”

Minerva caught a glimpse of a cut on the back of his hand as his sleeve fell down, and though Fred tried to jerk away, she reached out, pulled the material aside.

“That conniving...” she hissed angrily, her free hand balling into a fist, “I'm going to...”

Engraved on Fred's skin were the words 'I will not undermine the High Inquisitor.' She ground her teeth, and allowed Fred's hand to fall to his side. “We're paying Dolores a visit,” she said through clenched teeth.

“No!”

Minerva looked down at him (she still topped him by a couple of inches) and folded her arms across her chest. “That's blatant abuse, Mr. Weasley,” she said angrily. “If you think I'm going to let her...”

Fred reached out and placed a hand over her mouth. “How long do you think it will be before she writes a decree saying anyone that opposes her will be sacked?” he said urgently, not taking his hand away. “We can't afford to lose you.”

Minerva batted his hand away, but she took his words to heart. “Fine, Mr. Weasley,” she said finally. “We may not be able to get rid of her, but we can make her life hell.”

Fred looked mildly apprehensive as she gestured for him to follow her, but when he saw the impatient look on her face, he soon hurried to her side.

“Where are we going?” he asked after several (remarkably prologued) minutes of silence.

In answer Minerva drew to a halt, and looked at the portrait of Godric Gryffindor that guarded the entrance to her chambers. The portrait swung open without waiting for a password, and she ushered Fred inside. He looked around in awe as she directed him to the two armchairs before the fire.

“Sit.”

Fred obeyed, and he waited until she had sat down opposite him before speaking. “Professor...?”

Minerva gestured at the coffee table, and Fred visibly swallowed as he recognised the parchment that rested on the polished wood.

“Erm...about that...” he began.

“The fireworks,” she interrupted. “Imagine how much more effective they'd be if every time someone hit them with a vanishing charm, they multiplied by ten.”

Fred's mouth dropped for a brief moment, but a smirk crossed his face as she leant back and crossed her legs. “You may have something there, Professor,” he said, returning her conspiratorial smile. “And stunning charms?”

“I think something similar could be arranged.”

Fred inclined his head toward her as he reached for the parchment. “I have a new idea, if you'd like to hear it?”

Minerva flicked her wand, and conjured parchment, quills and two large mugs of hot chocolate. She handed one of the mugs to Fred who took it wordlessly as she picked up a quill and pressed it to the parchment. “Fire away, Mr. Weasley.”

---

Three hours later Minerva placed the quill on the coffee table, and cradled her sore wrist. The table was littered with pieces of parchment, all covered in tiny writing and complex diagrams, and there was a large pot of coffee in the center (they had both needed caffeine if they were to continue their planning).

“Well, Professor,” Fred said, arching his back and stretching his arms out. “I should get back to...”

“I'll walk you to the Common Room,” Minerva interrupted rising to her feet and helping Fred to his own.

He yawned, and shook his head. “There's no need...”

“Let's go, Weasley.”

Fred nodded, obviously too tired to argue, and they once again walked toward the Gryffindor Tower.

The journey seemed to take less time than usual, and Minerva stopped at the portrait of the Fat Lady who looked from Fred, to Minerva, to Fred again, and shook her head wearily.

“Password?”

“Devil's Snare,” Fred said.

The portrait swung open, but Fred hesitated before he stepped inside. “Thank you,” he said finally, looking her in the eye. “Not just for helping with the pranks, but for...” His voice trailed off, but Minerva nodded her head so show she understood the unfinished sentence.

Fred smiled gratefully and bowed gallantly, a gesture that elicited a rare laugh.

“I'll see you tomorrow night, Mr. Weasley,” she said shooing him inside.

Fred nodded, and gave her a sly wink. “Tomorrow I'll bring George.”

Minerva smiled as the portrait swung shut and turned to walk back to her chambers. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered as she strode down the winding hallways.

What have you got yourself into, Minerva?

---

Author's note: - In the next chapter George gets involved! If you want me to continue this one, I will need reviews. Cheers. Minniequill

[EloquentPhoenix]

;D I love it, very funny and original. I love Minerva in this. It really had a flowing quality about it, if that makes sense, everything just seemed to work and follow on. And this would explain her helping Peeves later in the books. Please, please update I can't wait to read the next chapter.

[MinnieQuill]

Chapter 2: - Subtle Subterfuge (Part I)

Author's note: - Some might think Sprout is OOC, but she strikes me as someone who would make the most of any situation and tip sh-- on someone like Umbridge at every opportunity.
Disclaimer: - I still own nothing
Dedication: - For Jane

---

“Wakey, wakey, rise and shine!” a much too cheerful voice rang out.

Minerva groaned, rolled over, and placed her pillow firmly over her ears.

“Minerva! Wakey, wakey!”

She snarled and reached out with one hand, knocking the infuriating alarm clock to the ground. It had been a 'gift' from Albus last year. She should have been suspicious when he'd given her the package, (his twinkle had increased alarmingly – a sure sign he was planning something 'amusing'), but the alarm clock had seemed harmless. Enough so that she set it on her bedside table.

She hadn't expected Albus to have recorded Sybill Trelawney's voice.

But record he had, and that was whose voice she woke up to every morning (Albus had placed an unbreakable charm on the clock; even when she hurled the contraption from the tallest astronomy tower, it found its way back into her chambers.)

“Wakey, wakey! Rise and...”

“Enough, already!”

Minerva leapt to her feet, and threw the alarm across the room. It shattered into small pieces, but instantly repaired itself. She glared at it for several moments, but it remained silent. Thanking the gods for small mercies, she turned and made her way into the shower. Despite the infuriating wake-up call, she felt remarkably enthusiastic.

She faltered at the entrance of the bathroom as the previous nights events flooded back to her.

Fred Weasley, Umbridge, pranks, and she was helping.

“Oh, gods,” she muttered, placing her hand on her forehead. Had she been delirious? What on earth had she been thinking?!

She shook her head roughly. It had been a dream, an unusual one to be sure, but a dream nevertheless. She turned sharply, and looked around the door of her bedroom into the living room. The remains of the night's planning still rested on the coffee table, and she could recognise her handwriting from the doorway.

Her grip tightened on the door frame and she bit her lip. What had she been thinking?

She continued to berate herself as she walked back to the bathroom. It was the work of moments to strip, and she stepped gratefully beneath the cascade of hot water. The water soothed her aching shoulders, and she looked upwards, the droplets pounding against her face.

Why had she agreed to help anyway?

A transparency of Fred's hand crossed her vision, and her lips thinned. Ah...that had been it. She opened her eyes abruptly, and turned the tap.

Dolores Umbridge. Blood Quill. One of her Gryffindors...

The woman was lucky she hadn't blasted her into oblivion.

She stepped out from the shower, and wrapped a towel tightly around her waist. Her long, black hair was restrained by another towel, and she walked back into her room and summoned her teaching robes toward her.

So she wasn't completely mad. Only slightly.

The thought made her smile, and she quickly dried her hair and began the lengthy process of restraining her waist-length hair into its customary tight bun. Finally the last hair pin was in place, and she quickly slid into her robes. Her shoes (black, calf-length, heeled boots) were in the far corner of the room where she had kicked them the night before, and she quickly pulled them onto her feet.

She swore under her breath as she glanced at her watch and found she was running late. She was never late. Cursing more fluently than her students could ever have imagined, Minerva marched through her chambers, and down the corridor. Students looked at her in alarm as she approached, and many simply turned and hurried back the way they came. This only served to irritate her more, and she jutted her chin forward and continued onward.

Albus looked up at her as she approached the staff table, and visibly quailed. She sat next to him, and wrenched a bowl of horrendously healthy porridge toward her. He (very wisely in her opinion) wordlessly handed her a cup of steaming coffee (black, strong, no sugar) which she took gratefully. The first sip was akin to a hot shower after a long, hard quidditch march, and she leant back into her chair.

“Hem, hem.”

Minerva closed her eyes, and ignored Dolores whose attention was fixated on her face.

“Hem, hem.”

Minerva's eyes flew open as she turned to face Umbridge. The 'High Inquisitor' have her a smug smile. “Good morning, Minerva,” she said in the pseudo-sweet voice that made her blood boil.

“Dolores,” Minerva greeted curtly, pouring herself another cup of coffee.

Pomona caught her eye, and rolled her eyes. She fought the urge to smile as the Head of Hufflepuff pointed at Umbridge and withdrew a pink sheet of parchment from her pocket. She shuddered theatrically as she held up the pink slip, and Minerva recognised the word 'probation' before Umbridge coughed again.

“Is there something I can help you with, Dolores,” Minerva said through clenched teeth, pointedly ignoring Pomona who was now now pretending to vomit into her cereal behind Umbridge's back,

Minerva bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself laughing.

“Yes,” Umbridge said, whilst Pomona returned to her breakfast, though she continued to smirk at her. Minerva tore her eyes away from the Herbology Professor, and fixed Dolores with a look that had recently brought a 6th-year Ravenclaw to tears. To her intense delight, Umbridge backed her chair away slightly, and looked down at the floor.

“The Weasley twins,” Dolores said finally, glancing briefly at Minerva who had folded her arms across her chair and was eying her disdainfully. She was at least a foot taller than Umbridge (at 6”1 she was taller than most women) and she planned to use this to her full advantage.

“Fred and George,” Minerva said nodding. “Have you had a problem with them?”

Umbridge nodded, and her toad mouth curved into a smile that made Minerva want to slap her. “Yes, they are insufferable. As they are in your house, I think methods should be arranged to try and put a stop to their behaviour.”

Minerva nodded as the glimmer of an idea began to form in her mind. “What if they serve detention with me for the next week or so?” she said slowly, as the idea took root in her brain and began to grow exponentially. “Would that be satisfactory?”

Umbridge's eyes rose dangerously close to her hairline, and Albus gave Minerva an astonished look that plainly said 'what are you up to?' She pointedly looked Umbridge in the eye. Behind her, she heard Pomona's spoon fall to the ground with a faint 'thump.'

“You're agreeing to this,” Umbridge said incredulously, her toad mouth slack.

Minerva paused, a spoonful of porridge part-way to her mouth. “Of course, Dolores,” she said, injecting mock surprise into her voice. “After all, we must present a 'united front' against misbehaviour to the students.”

Umbridge's mouth spread in a sickly smile. “Glad to see you have come around to my way of thinking, Minerva.”

Minerva smiled blandly as she chewed on her porridge. Umbridge turned to Severus who looked his usual haughty self, and Pomona and Albus both leant toward her.

“What are you up to?” they said simultaneously.

Minerva gave them a look of feigned innocence. “What makes you think I'm 'up to' anything?”

She returned to her porridge despite the looks from both Albus and Pomona. Her eyes flicked toward the Gryffindor table, and Fred Weasley beamed at her for a brief moment, before engaging his twin in an animated conversation.

Minerva smirked as she dabbed the napkin at the corner of her mouth.

You foolish, foolish woman, Dolores. Do you honestly think I would agree with you?

---

“Wotcher, McG.”

The greeting from an apparently empty corner of her classroom, caused Minerva to knock a bottle of ink to the floor. She waved her wand irritably as Fred emerged from beneath an invisibility cloak.

“Sorry 'bout that,” he said, gesturing at the ink that was pooled on the wooden floor, “But I've been sitting in that corner for the past half-hour waiting for the coast to clear.”

Minerva raised her left eyebrow, and Fred hastened to elaborate.

“Umbitch...” he faltered as her other eyebrow rose. “Sorry, Umbridge, has been following George and I around all day. We split up to try and lose her, and I thought I'd come here and...”

“Good,” Minerva interrupted. “You can begin your detention immediately.”

Fred looked at her incredulously. “Detention! What for?” he said eventually.

“Dolores' orders,” Minerva said, piling her marking together and rising to her feet. “Personally, I can think of better things to do with my time, so if you'd follow me...put that cloak on.”

Fred obeyed instantly, and threw the cloak over his head. Instantly he disappeared, and Minerva walked from her office, and marched down the corridor.

“So, what are we doing?” Fred hissed into her ear.

“Finding your twin,” Minerva answered through the corner of her mouth. “I take it you told him?”

“Erm...” Fred faltered, and Minerva drew to a halt and pulled him behind a tapestry that obscured a hidden hall.

“You haven't told him?” she hissed, wrenching the cloak from him so the silvery material fell to the floor. “Why not?!”

Fred looked down at the floor sheepishly. “Well, Professor, no offense meant or anything, but you're not exactly the most ... friendly of people. There's no way he'd believe me that you'd agree to help us.”

The corners of Minerva's mouth twitched despite herself, and she nodded. “Okay, Weasley, you've made your point. However, persuade your brother, I don't care how, and come to my chambers in half-an-hour. The password is 'Subtle subterfuge.'”

Fred snorted, but quickly regathered his composure. “Right you are, Professor,” he said, donning the cloak once more. “See you soon.”

Minerva nodded, spun on her heel, and peeked out into the hall. “It's clear,” she hissed as she strode forward, adjusting the pile of parchment more comfortably in her arms.

She heard the faint sound of seemingly disembodied footsteps in the other direction, and shook her head slightly.

It was official. She had gone mad.

---

Minerva lifted her head as the door to her chambers opened, apparently of its own accord. An instant later Fred and George appeared, and draped the invisibility cloak onto the hook next to the door. The former twin grinned at her, whilst the latter looked somewhat apprehensive.

“Sit,” Minerva said, gesturing to the two chairs before her.

Fred dragged his twin to the armchair, and sat down.

“Now, you are meant to be in detention,” Minerva said, leaning forward slightly. “If Umbridge finds out – what on earth are you looking at, Weasley?”

George's cheeks reddened alarmingly, and he looked down at his lap. “You look different,” he mumbled. “In muggle clothing...” gestured toward her, and Minerva looked down at her front.

“Ah,” she said, nodding her head in understanding. She conceded that it would have been odd enough under normal circumstances to see his Transfiguration Professor without her 'work attire' and rather clad in a simple combination of black trousers and a white blouse; but when your twin and partner-in-crime had just told him that the said Professor (who had a reputation for punishing miscreants,) was willing to assist in the blatant undermining of a colleague...

It was a miracle he hadn't fainted of shock really.

Fred poked him in the ribs. “Oi!” he hissed. “Focus, George!”

George sat bolt upright, and looked directly at Minerva. “There was one thing Fred didn't tell me, Professor,” he said, his brown eyes boring into her grey. “Why are you helping us?”

Minerva eyed him for a moment. He didn't bat an eyelid.

“The woman stands for a government I have no faith in,” she said, leaning back in her chair and conjuring a mug of hot chocolate. “Her utter incompetence grates on my nerves and...” her voice trailed off as she sought for the right words. “I have never been one to suffer fools lightly,” she said eventually. “And, I'm sure you'll agree, I have yet to meet a fool quite like Dolores Umbridge.”

Fred and George both nodded and she sipped her drink, waving her wand so that two mugs appeared in front of them.

“These fireworks,” she said, gesturing at the top most piece of parchment on the teetering pile. “You will need to make an infragilis potion and mix it with the 'flamma' powder which, I am assuming, you will be using in the core of the firework.”

Fred and George nodded. Fred was scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment, and he glanced up when she stopped speaking.

“And...?”

“The infragilis potion is extremely complex, not to mention volatile, so I suggest that you brew it in the fireplace in my spare bedroom. You will also need to raid Professor Snape's private stores...”

“What!” George interrupted, looking at her as if she had just sprouted an extra head. “You telling us to break into Snape's office and take the ingredients!?”

Minerva shook her head, and arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “Not telling, Mr. Weasley,” she said coolly. “Merely informing you where a ready store of the necessary ingredients is located.”

The twins' faces split into identical, mildly frightening, grins of incredulous delight.

“I still can't believe it - ''

“You actually helping us to - ''

“Make the toad woman's life hell-''

“We didn't think you had it in you - ''

Minerva held her hands up and instantly silence fell. “Do you two honestly believe that you are the first pranksters that have ever passed through Hogwarts?”

George shook his head. “Of course not. The Marauders were pretty good as well.”

Minerva smirked. These two were so naive. “Well before the Marauders was another duo who successfully broke every single Hogwarts rule during their time at Hogwarts.”

The twins' eyes widened. “But there's 763 rules! That's impossible!”

“768 actually, Weasley,” Minerva said coolly, tucking her legs underneath herself. “And I assure you; it most certainly is not impossible.”

She watched in amusement as their eyes lit up in understanding. “You!”

Minerva summoned another piece of parchment, and perched her glasses on her nose, ignoring the two young men in front of her whose mouths had fallen open in astonishment.

“Now, these 'Skiving Snackboxes'...” she said airily. “What about one that simulates measles?”

---

It was midnight before they finished, and it was three very tired individuals that trooped toward Gryffindor Tower.

“How long will the 'infragilis' potion take to brew?” George asked as they drew to a halt outside the Fat Lady.

“Once you two gather the ingredients, I'd say no less than a fortnight,” Minerva said, covering her mouth with her hand as she yawned widely. “I'll keep an eye on it over the weekend, but you two are in charge of it during the week. You have far more spare periods than I.”

They both nodded, and with a final 'goodnight' disappeared into the darkened Common Room. Minerva turned and began to walk back to her chambers, when she was pulled to one side by a strong arm.

“I know what you're up to!” Albus Dumbledore said in a sing-song voice. “I must admit; it's a brilliant idea. Helping the Weasley twins, I thought you'd buried that side of you around the same time you began wearing those spectacles.”

Minerva's eyes narrowed as she adjusted the afore-mentioned spectacles firmly on her nose. “I don't know what you're talking about, Albus,” she said stepping back from her employer and fixing him with a glare that would make many men shiver.

Albus didn't seem remotely perturbed, and merely grinned. “Might I suggest, Minerva,” he said leaning forward to whisper in her ear. “That you bring Peeves into this little 'team' of yours.”

“Peeves!” Minerva hissed. “I will not associate with that poltergeist!”

Albus shrugged nonchalantly. “As you wish, but he could certainly use some...direction...”

He winked conspiratorially, and strode off in the direction of his office. Minerva glared at his retreating figure.

She would not be associating with Peeves. The idea was ludicrous! And yet...

Well he was causing mayhem anyway...

---

Author's note: - A surprisingly quick update, I'm sure you'll all agree. Ahh...don't you love the power of reviews. Lol. Please review. Cheers. Minniequill

[EloquentPhoenix]

There's so much that made me laugh in that. It's wonderful and exactly what I needed to read. The Minerva-the-prankster moment was absolutely priceless. I loved the way you used her thoughts, and you really capture what I imagine her humour to be, it really is very dry and cynical and it's so good to read because sometimes it's just completely missed. But it makes the story, it's just so very Minerva.

I enjoyed the moment at the staff table, and I didn't think Pomona was OOC, they all hated Umbridge afterall. And God is she stupid. As if Minerva would ever agree to that. ;D

The ending was fun, it's always nice to see Albus and Min together and I can't wait to see what Peeves does

Do update soon.

[McGonagallsGirl]

Ahhahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

[FireBird]

Oh, this is fabulous so far! Do update this soon!

[crystalpheonixeyes]

O my GOSH! You need to update this really soon. It's brillent! Mabye a little bit more of MMAD though? I really can't wait for the next chapter. You got Minerva down perfectly! Great Job!

[MinnieQuill]

Like I said at the start, this isn't obvious, in your face MMAD. More a kind of 'there is SO someting going on there' type of thing. The focus is on Minerva's relationship with the twins, and how she copes with Umbridge's reign. And (naturally) we find out who her partner in crime was *X-files music*

[EloquentPhoenix]

I'm glad it's subtle MMADness, because the plot doesn't need it. If it were there, as much as we all love it, it would distract from the plot too much. And you can tell immediately that their relationship is at least there.

Ooh I'm really curious as to her partner in crime now, I hope he/she gets involved too.

[MinnieQuill]

Chapter 3: - Subtle Subterfuge (Part II)

---

Author's note: - Well this seems to be going down far better than I thought it would! Also, I'll just give a quick assurance that under no circumstances will this be FW/MM, or GW/MM or (and this is a certainty) FW/MM/GW. That's just...well it's not gonna happen!

A quick thanks for all the reviews, and please, do keep 'em coming. They do spur me on to write faster (there is no way I'd have written so fast if it wasn't for them)

Disclaimer: - I own...well...nothing. There are my cats and dog, but you will have to kill me to even look at them in a fashion I do not like. Not that I'm protective or anything...

Dedication: - For Jane (again).

---

"Minerva! It's a beautiful Saturday morning!" Sybil Trelawney's voice informed her at approximately 5:30 ante meridiem. "Upsie Daisy!"

There was a groan from within the mass of pillows and cushions as Minerva uncurled herself and stretched her limbs. She reached out blindly, but knocked the alarm clock to the ground where it promptly burst into song.

"Oh, what a beautiful morning! Oh, what a beautiful day! I've got a beautiful-''

"No!" Minerva shouted, leaping to her feet and snatching her wand as she did so. With reflexes she attributed to her animagus form, she twisted on her toes as she grabbed her tartan dressing gown which hung on the bed rail, whilst simultaneously pointing her wand at the infernal alarm clock which was now up to the second verse.

"All the cattle - -''

"OBLITERATE!"

There was a deafening bang and Minerva held the dressing gown over her head as the alarm clock shattered into minuscule pieces. The debris soon cleared and Minerva lowered the tartan garment. It may have been a slight over-reaction, but singing at 5:30 in the morning? And not just any song, but possibly one of the most infuriating songs that had ever been written?

In all honesty, her reaction was quite calm and collected.

Her breathing was slightly elevated as Minerva glared at the alarm clock which was now repairing itself. I am going to kill you, Albus Dumbledore...

A smile (decidedly wicked of course) crept across her face, and the phrase 'looking like the cat that got the cream' ran briefly through her mind.

Well maybe not kill...

Still grinning, she wrapped her dressing gown tightly around herself, marched across the room, and exited her chambers.

---

There was something to be said about the beauty of a sunrise, Minerva thought as she sauntered down the halls of Hogwarts in her animagus form with her tail in the air. The air was crisp, and the grounds were still covered in a light fog from the night before. Had she been inclined, she may even have called it 'serene'. As it were, the fog only served as a reminder to her that no human being should be awoken at this ungodly hour on a Saturday.

She had the animagus form of a cat, for god's sake. Cat, feline, animals that love to sleep, would sleep every hour of every day if they could; preferably on a soft cushion, but that was neither here nor there. Minerva continued her ever increasingly morbid observations about mornings as she stalked down the corridor. There were no students awake at this god-forsaken hour, and she met no one except her feline foe Mrs. Norris. The infernal cat hissed at her, and Minerva rolled her eyes and inwardly sighed.

And she makes it a competition; surely she should have realised by now that Gryffindors are the most competitive people put on this planet.

Glancing to one side and then the next, Minerva transformed, hit Mrs. Norris with a water charm, promptly re-transformed and ran away before Filch could catch her. Her paws made no sound on the stone floor, and she only stopped when she reached the gargoyle that guarded Albus' office and private rooms.

The gargoyle looked down at her, and smirked. "Well, well, well, if it isn't Professor McGonagall."

Minerva quickly returned to her human form, and raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to let me in?" she asked as she remembered that she didn't know the password.

"You know I shouldn't," the gargoyle wheezed.

Minerva nodded causing the gargoyle to chuckle. "Very well. Just don't tell him."

With those words the gargoyle sprung to one side, and she stepped onto the revolving staircase. Never one to waste time, she took the stairs two-at-once and in less than 30 seconds reached the heavy oak door. She opened the door slowly, praying for it not to creak. It opened noiselessly, and she slipped inside. Her eyes darted around the office, and she rolled her eyes.

The man worked in utter chaos. How he managed it, she was yet to figure out.

Still pondering that thought, she quickly crossed the room, and opened the door that led to Albus' private quarters. Brief thoughts of 'invading people's privacy' ran through her mind, but were quickly dismissed. All-too-soon she reached Albus' bedroom and peeked around the door.

Perfect..

She padded toward the sleeping wizard, her bare feet making no sound against the carpet, and drew to a halt two feet away from the head of the bed. Albus was snoring softly, and she watched his chest rise and fall for a few moments before setting to work.

First of all she programed his alarm clock with her own voice singing the most infuriating muggle song known to man-kind (magnified somewhat), second (and she knew that she was being ridiculous, but found she didn't care,) she flicked her wand and his beard and hair twisted itself into braids not unlike Angelina Spinnet's, and thirdly (she found herself giggling at the mere thought) she placed a charm (one of her own invention) that would cause him to 'skip' until she removed the curse.

Now sniggering silently she exited the room and hurried down the stairs. She was about to walk down the corridor when a reedy voice rang out.

"What did you do?" the gargoyle asked.

Minerva smirked. "You'll see."

She had scarcely placed one foot in front of the other when two voices (one of which was her own – magnified tenfold) rang out.

"Minerva!"

"IT WAS AN ITSY, BITSY, TEENIE, WEENIE, YELLOW, POLKA-DOT BIKINI! "

"MINERVA!"

"THAT SHE WORE FOR THE FIRST TIME TODAY!"

"MINER--OUCH!"

"IT WAS AN ITSY, BITSY, TEENIE, WEENIE, YELLOW, POLKA-DOT BIKINI!"

She heard the sound of rushing footsteps behind her and did the only sensible thing she could think of.

She ran.

---

Ten minutes later she arrived at the door to her chambers, breathing lightly (she may have been approaching 'middle-age' but she was willing to bet good money she was fitter than most of the student population). Godric raised his eyebrows but said nothing as he swung open, and Minerva stepped inside and hurried across her bedroom and into the shower. Her recent exertion had left her with a thin film of sweat over her skin which she desperately wished to be rid of.

She stepped inside the jetting water, and quickly allowed the water to work its wonders before stepping out again and wrapping a toweling robe around herself. And not a moment too soon. She had scarcely tied the sash when one Albus Dumbledore burst inside looking decidedly mad. (His position as Headmaster ensured that all doors in the castle would open for him.)

"You!" he managed as his feet took him on a merry 'skip' around her bedroom.

Minerva folded her arms across her chest and raised an inquiring eyebrow.

"You did this!"

Prove it," Minerva said, crossing the room and sitting before her vanity.

"Please. I'll do anything..."

Minerva looked over her shoulder and gestured at the newly-repaired alarm clock. Albus' eyes followed and lit up with understanding. With great difficulty he withdrew his wand from his pocket and pointed it at the contraption.

"Finite Incantatem."

The alarm clock shuddered slightly and disappeared into thin air. Minerva looked back at Albus who was now skipping on the spot without the aid of a skipping rope.

"Please..."

She rolled her eyes, and with a flick of her wand his feet stopping dancing, his beard freed itself of the restraining braids and (well she assumed anyway) her voice stopped shouting in his chambers.

"Thank you," he muttered, smoothing his red and gold starred dressing gown.

Minerva nodded curtly, and gestured toward the door. As he reached for the handle, she spoke again. "Albus, you've never been able to beat me at pranks. Don't attempt to start now."

Her employer nodded grudgingly, and quickly exited her chambers.

Minerva smirked as she turned back, and toasted herself in the mirror. Ten thousand and eighty three to me; one thousand and four to Albus.

---

Minerva walked hurriedly down the corridor toward the Great Hall. If she were lucky she would be able to eat breakfast (hopefully alone), retrieve her marking from her classroom and retire to her chambers where she would catch up on some well-deserved sleep. With that happy thought in mind, Minerva rounded the corner and glanced up at the staff table.

It was free save for one person: Severus Snape.

The Slytherin Head and herself were not good friends, but they were old friends, and over the years the two terms had melded together until they was scarcely indistinguishable. Minerva continued forth, and Severus pushed a cup of coffee toward her which she took gratefully. She glanced at her other house counterpart, and suppressed a sigh.

He looked so tired , so withdrawn. She was one of the few who knew of his work for the Order, or rather, she was one of the few who knew of his true work with the order. And, (judging by his physical condition), he was in severe danger of succumbing to its incubus. His skin was cadaverous in the candlelight, and his eyes which usually darted about (often searching for misbehaving students; more often than not Gryffindors) were dull and shrouded. The only colour in his face were the charcoal smudges under his eyes, and he looked, for the first time she had known him, tired.

"Are you all right?" she asked softly, though she knew he would not answer her honestly.

He shot her a venomous glare which she raised an eyebrow at. "I'm fi..." he began, though he found his words weighted down by uncertainty and stared fixedly at the table.

"That good, then?" Minerva said, resting her hand briefly on his shoulder.

Severus nodded glumly as he sipped his own coffee (black, no sugar, like herself.)

Minerva found herself at a loss of words to say, and ate her toast, more for something to do rather than to satiate hunger. The comfortable silence between them was shattered by their next breakfast arrival.

"Hem, Hem."

Severus closed his eyes and winced slightly, though only she (who, as the students would say, 'was the most observant of staff') noticed this.

"Good morning, Dolores," Minerva said through gritted teeth, flicking her wand and refilling both her and Severus' coffees.

"Is it, Professor McGonagall?" Umbridge said coldly.

Surprised, Minerva turned to find the High Inquisitor glaring at her. She bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself laughing. The look may have worked on Minerva's harder and more striking features, but on Dolores' flabby face, it just looked ridiculous.

"I rather thought so," Minerva said airily.

"Hmph!"

Minerva glanced at Severus who looked equally oblivious to the cause of Dolores' woes. The woman in question was adding what looked to be half a cup of sugar to her decaffeinated coffee (sacrilegious in Minerva's mind) and did not appear to be elaborating any time soon. Minerva shrugged, and turned to Severus with the idea to engage him in conversation.

"How are the Weasley twins, Minerva?"

Dolores' voice was smug, and Minerva felt a cold wave of apprehension flood through her veins. "The Weasley's?" she asked, turning to Umbridge. Years of masking her emotions ensured that her expression did not falter as she looked into the muddy-brown eyes of her nemesis, but nevertheless, the predatory gleam in the other woman's eye was thoroughly disconcerting. Indeed, if she hadn't survived two wars or wasn't the current Order's strategist, she may even have been mildly frightened.

But, she had survived two wars, and was the Order's strategist, so instead of feeling frightened, she was merely...apprehensive.

“The Weasley twins?” Minerva repeated, feigning innocence. “I imagine this early in the morning that they are still in bed.”

Umbridge glowered up at her. “Well, Minerva. I regret to inform you that they are not in bed; rather they were seen coming down from the Owlery carrying a rather large package no less than 20 minutes ago.”

Minerva blinked her eyes slowly. “The Owlery, Dolores?” she said eventually.

Umbridge nodded sanctimoniously.

“Did you not think they may have simply been retrieving a package from home?” Minerva continued, injecting a small amount of syrup into her voice.

Blood rushed to Dolores' face.

“They are the Weasley twins,” she hissed, her voice lowering to a growl. “It would not have been a simple package from home!”

Minerva shrugged, as she reached for a small piece of toast. “I see no evidence to the contrary, Dolores,” she said as she nibbled the corner. “I cannot punish my students based on suppositions, and not concrete fact.”

Umbridge looked to swell in her seat, making her resemblance to a giant toad even more uncanny. “Are you refusing to help me, Professor McGonagall?” she asked, her voice low and deadly.

Minerva glared down at her. “No,” she said coldly. “I am informing you that I cannot, and will not, be sanctioning punishments when there is no evidence behind the accusations.”

She calmly continued to eat her toast, well aware that Umbridge's mouth was opening and closing in a parody of speech as she sought for words to retort Minerva's statement.

“I...you...I think another review is in order, Professor McGonagall!” she spluttered eventually. “You are clearly slipping!”

Minerva shrugged one shoulder carelessly. “You will find my record exemplary, Dolores,” she said calmly, though she inwardly bristled. “I don't believe that one student has failed Transfiguration since I took the position almost 39 years ago.”

Umbridge glared at her, but said nothing as Minerva drained the last of her coffee, and rose to her feet. “Now, if there was nothing else,” she said as she pushed her chair under the table. “I have such things to do as my job.”

She turned smartly on her heel, and marched away leaving behind a fuming High Inquisitor and a mildly amused Potions Master.

---

Students had begun to rise, and Minerva walked through small groups who were on their way to breakfast. They looked suitably rested, much like those who had not been awoken at the crude hour of 5:30 by the recorded voice of a drunken loon. She sniffed angrily as she waved her wand, and the heavy door to her office swung open.

It was as ordered as she had left it the night previously, and it was the work of moments to retrieve her 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 5th and 7th year marking from the top right-hand drawer (magically enlarged to fit everything.) She grabbed extra quills and ink for good measure, and was about to walk out again when a simpering cough interrupted her.

“Hem, hem.”

Minerva froze, suppressed the urge to wrap her fingers around the mahogany wood of her wand and curse the infuriating woman into oblivion, and slowly turned.

Pomona Sprout grinned at her, and her mouth twitched despite herself.

“Good morning,” Pomona said with a smirk.

Minerva felt the beginnings of unease begin to travel through her veins as she looked at the Herbology Professor.

“How's the Headmaster, Minerva?” Pomona asked, stepping into her office and closing the door behind her.

“Awake,” Minerva said succinctly, adjusting the pile of parchment on her hip.

“So, I heard. You have a lovely singing voice,” Pomona said, her grin widening. “Why...”

“Hem, hem. Minerva, may I speak with you?”

Minerva glared at the closed door. A flurry of movement caught her eye, and she watched in amusement as Pomona flung herself behind Minerva's desk.

“Care to explain?” she asked, raising a supercilious eyebrow at the Head of Hufflepuff.

Pomona shook her head. “Not really, no.”

“Minerva, dear...”

She looked toward the ceiling, and prayed for patience. “One moment, Dolores,” she called as Pomona snickered.

“What's the password to Greenhouse 7?” Minerva asked hurriedly. Greenhouse 7 housed the most dangerous plants, and only select members of staff and honour NEWTS students were allowed to enter. Thankfully, Minerva was one of the few who was proficient enough in Herbology to pass Pomona's rigorous test.

“Why do you want to know?” Pomona asked, her eyebrows rising.

“Just tell me.”

Pomona eyed her curiously, and Minerva tapped her foot pointedly.

“It's 'daota sis erolod.'”

“Should I even ask where you got that from?” Minerva asked as the Herbology Professor's face split into a grin.

“Spell it backwards.”

“Daota sis erolod,” Minerva muttered. She rolled her eyes. “Dolores is a toad.”

“Hem, hem.”

Pomona gestured at the closed door, and Minerva suppressed a sigh as she crossed the room and schooled her features into a reasonably pleasant expression.

“Yes, Dolores?”

God, give me patience...

---

[MinnieQuill]

Subtle Subterfuge Part II (continued)

---

Minerva's heels echoed loudly in the resonant hall as she marched back toward her chambers. She was walking at a slightly unnatural pace, one that was faster than even her usual long-legged gait. The reason for her sudden increase in speed was almost immediately reinforced.

"...And I'm sure you'll agree with me on that point, Minerva, dear..." Umbridge puffed as she jogged next to her.

Minerva glanced down at her contemptuously and arched a perfectly-groomed eyebrow. She loved being tall, she really did. It made looking down at people so much easier.

"I'm sorry, Dolores," she said drawing to a halt outside of her chambers. "But I have a lot of work to do."

Godric had swung open before she had fully finished her sentence, and Minerva stepped over the threshold into her chambers, leaving an infuriated Umbridge behind, and breathed a heavy sigh of relief. The pile of marking she had been carrying fell down to the ground with a soft 'thump', but Minerva simply stepped over it and made a direct line for her bedroom. She had scarcely marched half-way across the room when there was a deafening ' bang' from down the hall.

Immediately concerned that her private chambers were soon-to-be decimated, Minerva sprinted toward the sound of the noise. The door to the spare bedroom swung open, and two guilty faces stared back at her as she stood (with her hands on her hips naturally) glaring at both of them.

"Erm..." George Weasley said, eying the wand that rested in her robe pocket nervously. "We...er...had a bit of an accident..."

Minerva snorted in a decidedly unladylike manner as her arms fell down to her sides, and she marched toward the cauldron that sat in the fireplace. The blue flames were licking the edges of the pewter cauldron, and she conjured a fire-proof towel as she reached into the fireplace. She heard Fred and George inhale sharply as she dug her hand into the hot coals, but that soon turned into a 'whoop' of admiration when three foot high orange flames burst firth, enveloping the cauldron and the contained potion.

She stepped back as the formerly blue potion, gleamed orange and turned to the twins.

“I said I'd take care of it over the weekend,” she said looking from one red-haired adolescent to the other.

Fred shrugged. “We figured you had enough on your plate...”

“...what with the Order and all that...” George interjected.

“So we thought...”

“...we'd start now...”

“...so you can do your marking or whatever else it is you do on a weekend.”

They ended their explanation, and beamed at her. Minerva looked at them, her extensive vocabulary eluding her completely.

“But we'll leave if you want us to!” Fred said hurriedly, mistaking her silence for anger.

“Yeah, sorry, Professor!”

“We weren't thinking!”

She held up both of her hands, silencing them instantly. “Just remember to stir the potion clockwise, not anti-clockwise. That's where you two obviously went wrong. Should you need me, I'll be in the Living Room. I...” She faltered slightly as she struggled with her next sentence. In all her years of teaching, she had never been close to a student, and yet these two reminded her so much of...

She shook her head slightly. “...I believe that you two have some difficulty with Charms work. Should you wish, I am more than happy to tutor you in the finer details.”

Fred and George's mouths dropped simultaneously, and a flush rose in her cheeks. “I'll...” she began, gesturing at the door.

“That would be ruddy brilliant, Professor!” George interrupted.

“Damn straight!”

She allowed a brief smile to touch her lips. “I'll be outside.”

---

Minerva curled her legs beneath herself as she surveyed the two vexed young wizards before her. Her movement caught their eye, and two identical looks of frustration and irritation were thrown her way. They were working on conjuring charms; the two were more than proficient at the basics (conjuring flowers and so forth), but neither seemed able to master the assigned task of conjuring chairs.

“Mr. Weasley, you're still dropping your wrist on the upstroke. Remember to bring your hand up fluidly, and then a sharp, forward motion.”

The red-head (Fred) nodded, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Okay.”

Minerva nodded for him to continue, and he closed his eyes briefly. “Sive sessio!”

There was a deafening explosion, and Minerva hurriedly cast a shielding charm to protect herself from the splinters of wood that flew through the air. The debris cleared and she uncurled herself as Fred looked mutinous.

“It's not working!” he said angrily.

He glowered at the floor, and Minerva rose to her feet, crossed the room and stood beside him. “I'm going to guide you through the wand movement,” she said, taking hold of his hand. Fred looked suitably shocked, and Minerva rolled her eyes. “Ready?”

He nodded.

“So move your hand up, keeping your wrist relaxed; slowly move your wand up until it is facing upward, rest it there for a moment, before flicking it forward quickly.”

She released his hand, and stepped back. “Try it by yourself.”

Fred glanced at her, and she gave a reassuring nod. He exhaled sharply and straighted his shoulders. “Sive sessio!”

There was a faint crack and a comfortable-looking wooden chair appeared before them.

Fred turned to her with a wide grin on his face. “It worked!” he said happily.

Her mouth curved in a half-smile. “Well done. Now, Mr. Weasley, you try.”

Both Fred and George moved forward.

“No...” she said hurriedly, “I meant...”

Fred and George exchanged looks.

“Professor...” George began.

“Can you just call us by our first names?”

“This 'Mr. Weasley' business gets confusing.”

“So Fred and George.”

“Or Gred and Forge.”

Minerva held both her hands up. “Okay, boys,” she said with a faint grin. “Fred and George it is.”

“Wicked!”

---

Two hours later, the twins left her quarters (after first ensuring that there were no onlookers – it would be very odd indeed to see the Weasley twins exiting the chambers of the Deputy Headmistress – and would no doubt lead to some very interesting questions.) Minerva allowed the door to close, and leant against the hard timber. Her living room was in shambles.
The remnants of conjured furniture littered the room (she had forced them to practice until they could manage the charm non-verbally) and new plans were also scattered on the polished wood floor. She moved forward and retrieved the many sheets of parchment. Her eyes fell on George's messy script, and unbidden a smirk crossed her face.

Portable Swamp
Purpose: - infuriate Umbridge
Needed: -
- small sample of 'swamp-like' substance.
- a 'expanding potion'
- detonator (voice, or spell? - go to McG for opinion)
- counter-curse (simple for someone like McG, impossible for idiot like Umbridge)

Now chuckling slightly, Minerva replaced the parchment on the coffee table, and cleared her rooms with a flick of her wand. Instantly they were pristine, and she summoned her pile of marking toward her. She sat down on her favourite armchair and turned over the first essay.

Hannah Abbot was explaining the finer details of Vanishing invertebrates when there was faint crash from outside her corridors. The essay fell to the ground as Minerva leapt to her feet, and ran out into the corridor. The noise had come from the Gryffindor Tower, and her natural protectiveness ensured that she was outside the corridor within minutes. It was eerily silent, and she transformed into her feline guise and leapt onto the windowsill where she could not be seen.

Her senses were on high alert, and her muscles were taunt as she looked downward. She glanced up and down as the fur on her back rose and an entirely unfounded presentiment that something was amiss flooded through her veins. How long she remained stationary she did not know, but her sensitized ears caught the unmistakable sound of an invisibility cloak being taken off.

Draco Malfoy and his two cronies Crabbe and Goyle emerged from what was apparently thin air, and looked around.

“It's a wonder that frigid, old cow McGonagall didn't come running,” he said laughing.

Minerva suppressed the urge to leap from the window and shred Malfoy's skin to pieces, and settled for watching what he was going to do.

“Ready, Crabbe?”

His friend (more akin to a boulder really) grinned stupidly and nodded. Malfoy withdrew what looked like a muggle match from within his robes and held it up.

“Let's see the Fat Lady sing,” he said smirking.

Whether or not it was the slight on her person, or her natural protectiveness for anything Gryffindor, she did not know, but Minerva hurled herself down from the window, her claws outstretched, landing neatly on a suit of armor. Draco looked up as the metal configuration fell toward him and a shrill scream emerged from his throat. He dived out of the way at the same time that Minerva jumped off, and the suit of armor fell into disarray. She hurriedly hid herself behind a forgotten tapestry, and re-transformed.

“Let's go,” Malfoy hissed as he leapt to his feet.

He began to move forward, but Minerva placed a tripping jinx on his feet so he fell forward again. Crabbe and Goyle were similarly disposed of, and three figures in black and green robes were sprawled on the floor.

Minerva leant against the wall, ostensibly satisfied, and placed her wand back in her pocket. Malfoy was looking about wildly, and Minerva began to laugh silently.

“Naughty, Professor, Miss.”

She whirled around on her toes to find Peeves standing beside her, grinning up at her. “Should tell Umbridge, I should,” he continued. “Tell her 'bout naughty Professor McGonagall.”

Minerva looked down at the poltergeist and shrugged. “As you wish, Peeves,” she said with feigned carelessness. “Though I was hoping you could help...no, never mind...” she trailed off.

Peeves' eyes lit up with curiosity, and he nodded eagerly for her to continue. “Yes, Professor, Miss?”

Minerva exhaled theatrically. “I don't like this woman, Peeves,” she said flatly. “And whilst I wouldn't normally condone such behaviour...should her office be accidentally left open, I don't think I'd mind if you went in there and did some...creative decorating.”

The poltergeist's face split into a decidedly evil grin, and he nodded in understanding as he thrust his hand toward her. “I understands, Professor, Miss!”

Minerva shook his hand gingerly, mindful of the crumbs she felt being crushed against her palm. “Glad to hear it, Peeves.”

The little man sailed off in the opposite direction, laughing maniacally, leaving Minerva behind. She shook her head wearily as she pushed herself from the wall.

You really have gone mad, Minerva. Associating with Peeves? Dear Lord...

---

Author's note: - Well I hope you enjoyed! You know what to do should you want this story continued! Please review. Cheers. Minniequill

[FireBird]

Thank you for the quick update! This story is just getting better and better! I can hardly wait for the next part!

[crystalpheonixeyes]

Yes! An update! Both chapters were awesome and I deal with Peeves has perfect. Go Minerva for tripping draco. That made me laugh.

[McGonagallsGirl]

This is incredibly cute. If only you could focus your powers! *sighs, remembering 'Don't need the Sunshine' and many others* We should be Best Friends or something . Then I could help you hone your skills! ...no, wait...those aren't best friends...those are betas... never mind, it's finally midnight, which means the end of the worst day ever has finally come. I'm pleased. And done typing. Excellent chapter, update soon, yada yada yada.

And remember... Minerva + Queen = Tea on a Sunday

[MinnieQuill]

I've always had trouble sticking with one thing. In fact I can count on one hand the passions that have been permanent. Reading, swimming and writing. That's it.

And you do like 'Don't Need the Sunshine' don't you? Hmm...just when I'm becoming disenchanted with it... Ah well; that just means there'll be a bit of a wait. I'm going to write up the detailed outline by hand, and actually force myself to stick to it. Which means that it will be another *looks at outline at top of lecture notes* another 15 chapters... Dear god...

And my day's, no scrap that, week has been shite as well. Damn boys...

Oh, if you want to be a beta for 'Don't', I am more than happy to accept. I need help with this one! Seeing as I'm already sad merely thinking of the ending *sniffs*

[EloquentPhoenix]

I'm in such a happy mood. What a lovely way to start my Sunday. Hehe, I'm glad Peeves is on side, his mayhem will be hilarious I'm sure. Oh the Alarm clock and the pranks on Albus. I could truly picture every moment, and Minerva was so composed, I think I would have died laughing. Great choice of annoying song And he did deserve it

Pomona's password was genius, very real sounding. And Draco and co got what they deserved. I don't want this story to end yet! It's really good. Please continue!

[McGonagallsGirl]

Yes, all of your stories are good.
Well, as I'll be needing something to take my ind off of RL, I'd be pleased as punch to beta
Just pm me with any details that may need to be ironed out.

[MinnieQuill]

I might take you up on that. Though uni is INSANE at the moment. I will have a breakdown soon, of that I am certain.

[kahpfan]

LOL - Brilliant story keep up the good work! I love the idea of McGonagall teaming up with Fred and George and Peeves. I always think that teachers who can spot prancks and pranksters at ten paces must have been pranksters at school. I know I can spot the playing with or texting using my mobile under the table syndrome a mile off - I used it in sixth form on occasion and at Uni. Kids don't understand why I spot it so fast. I don't spot chewing unless it's really obvious because I never chewed. Love the idea of Minerva the Praknster. If you anted to do another in this universe that would be a great backstory. Epcially the 368 rules! :-)

[MinnieQuill]

768 actually. lol

[MinnieQuill]

Chapter 4: - Of Pranks and Poltergeists (Part I)

Author's note: - Many, many thanks to all of those who have reviewed. They are much appreciated. A word of warning; I am literally up to my eyeballs in study and henceforth can't update. The only reason this chapter's up is because I am currently in a caffeine-induced state of elation and have far too much energy. That being said, keep up the reviews so I have heaps of incentive to continue!

I've had a few emails regarding the length of this story. The answer: it will follow OOTP and perhaps part-way through the Summer of Harry's sixth year. Quite long in other words. And there'll be a (rather darker) sequel (for more info, see profile.)

Disclaimer: - I do not own anything that JKR has created. I merely...play a little with her characters.

Dedication: - To those who have reviewed. Many thanks!

---

Minerva stretched luxuriantly in her bed as the sun's rays began to filter through the windows. How wonderful it was to wake up of one's own prerogative, and not that of an infernal alarm clock! Her back arched in a feline manner, and she rose from her bed and padded into the bathroom.

A quick shower later, she stepped into her living room dressed in her weekend attire of black pants and pull-on long-sleeve shirt. As a whole, she preferred the sartorial benefits of muggle clothing; they offered a freedom of movement that the voluminous wizarding robes she usually wore lacked. Retrieving the large pile of marking from next to the door to her chambers, she conjured a cup of tea and curled up in her favourite armchair.

It was her weekend ritual to mark homework by the fire, and one which she hadn't broken since the beginning of her tenure at Hogwarts. Eloise Migeon was explaining the finer details of human Transfiguration where there was a loud (somewhat frenzied) knocking at her door. Gritting her teeth in annoyance, Minerva marched across the length of the room, and opened the door viciously.

Fred Weasley all-but-ran inside, slamming the door behind him. His hazel eyes were wide, and his chest heaved as he struggled to form words.

“It's George,” he managed finally. “We were working on nose-bleed nougat, and something went wrong! He won't stop bleeding!”

Minerva motioned for him to be silent. “Where is he?” she asked, any traces of annoyance vanished to be replaced with concern.

“Room of Requirement. You were closest...”

Fred hadn't finished his sentence before Minerva started running. From the heavy footfalls behind her, she knew that Fred was close behind, and they soon skidded to a halt in front of a seemingly blank wall.

“I need to find George,” Minerva thought as she paced before the stone wall. “Need to find George; need to find George...”

A heavy oak door appeared from thin air, and Minerva pushed her way inside. Her hand flew involuntarily to her mouth. George Weasley sat in a simple wooden chair, blood running from his nose and soaking into the white shirt he wore. The crimson strain spread well past his chest, and his skin was deathly pale as Minerva rushed forward and placed a hand on his forehead.

He was ice-cold, and she conjured a thick blanket which she draped over his shoulders. “Fred!” she barked, causing the other Weasley twin to start. “He needs to see Madame Pomfrey. Help me lift him.”

For once he didn't argue, and Minerva slipped her arms underneath George's shoulders and hefted him upwards whilst Fred held his legs. Together they awkwardly made their way down the corridor. Thankfully, the hour was still early, and no students were roaming the halls to see the odd sight. Poppy was tending to a fifth-year with flu symptoms as Minerva pushed the door open with her hip.

“Minerva, what on earth...” Poppy began as Fred and Minerva lifted George onto the bed.

“Blood replenishing potion, Poppy,” Minerva interrupted, wiping the blood away from George's face with a handkerchief she conjured. “Quickly.”

The school mediwitch obeyed instantly, and Minerva squeezed Fred's hand gently. The other twin's eyes were wide as he stared at his brother, but his mouth tilted upward at her small show of comfort. Poppy bustled back into the cubicle, a small vial of potion in her hand, and Minerva tilted George's head back as she poured the blue liquid down his throat. There were several tense moments before George sat bolt upright. Colour slowly returned to his cheeks, and he looked down at the white sheet in front of him as Poppy swelled alarmingly.

“I'll handle it, Poppy,” Minerva said gently before the school nurse could begin her tirade.

Poppy sniffed and swept her way across the ward, checking on her other patients. Minerva gestured for the twins to follow her, and together the trio made their way slowly back to her chambers. The two Weasley's entered before her, and stood in the centre of the room, their faces downcast, obviously expecting to be punished.

“George,” she said gently, placing her hand on his shoulder. “There's a bathroom adjoining the spare room. Go and get yourself cleaned up. I'll conjure you a new shirt when you come back out.”

The red-head nodded, and obediently walked to the spare bedroom. A few moments later the sound of running water could be heard, and Minerva turned to Fred who looked rather pale.

“Sit down,” she said softly, steering him to the other armchair by the fire. “And drink this.”

She conjured a mug of hot chocolate, which Fred took wordlessly, his attention focused on the flickering light of the flames. He sipped the drink absentmindedly, and Minerva lifted her (now cold) tea from the table and mirrored his movements.

“You aren't yelling at us,” he said finally, breaking the silence.

“No,” she agreed. “Though I do have one request.”

Fred finally tore his gaze away from the fire to look at her. “Yes?”

“When making these 'Skiving Snackboxes', kindly do so here so I can supervise,” she said, reverting to her usual brusque tones though she smiled gently. “I'll raid Severus' stores so that we're prepared for any catastrophe.”

Fred laughed – a sound more hollow than light-hearted. “Deal.”

They fell silent, and it was only when a faint cough sounded from behind them that Minerva turned. George stood in his trousers, a towel draped around his shoulders in a bid to cover his exposed chest. His cheeks flared as Minerva looked at him, and she rolled her eyes as she flicked her wand. Instantly a dark blue shirt appeared, covering George's skin, and he smiled in appreciation.

“Cheers, McG.”

Minerva smiled. “A pleasure, George.”

There was a sudden 'crash' from outside the hall, and Minerva leapt to her feet, gesturing at the Weasley twins to stay put, and ran across the room. Wrenching the door open, she looked to her left to find the hallway empty. She frowned to herself. Almost 39 years as an educator had given her an almost sixth sense for trouble, and she crept along the corridor, coming to a halt outside the DADA classroom. Loud bangs were coming from the other side of the door, and she pushed it open and immediately threw herself to the ground to avoid being pounded by several water balloons.

Peeves smiled maniacally at her as he twirled what looked like Cornelius Fudge's bowler hat in his hands.

“Hello, Miss Professor, Miss!” he greeted cheerfully as he took careful aim at one of the hideous gamboling kittens on Umbridge's desk. He hit the china feline on the nose and it fell to the floor and it shattered with a satisfying 'smash.'

Minerva hauled herself to her feet and brushed off a small amount of dirt that had landed on her blouse. “Peeves,” she said, mentally kicking herself for associating with the poltergeist. “May I ask what you're up to? Besides this,” she quickly added as Peeves motioned at the deflated water balloon and the puddle that was slowly but surely spreading over the carpet.

“Peevsie isn't sure, Miss!” he said, his brow furrowing. “Was trying to smash that, but can't do magic!”

Minerva followed where Peeves gestured, and a smirk crossed her face. “No, Peeves,” she said withdrawing her wand from her pocket. “But I can.”

The poltergeist's face split into a maniacal grin as she took aim at the drain pipe that was positioned outside the window. There was a deafening bang, and the stone pipe shattered into smithereens, breaking the window and water flooded into the room. Minerva quickly retreated to the doorway as the water made a small river in the centre of the room and nodded to Peeves who sprung into a smart salute.

She hurried away from the scene of mayhem, and rushed back to her chambers to find them empty. The twins' cups were still half-full, but there was no sign of either red-head. A faint breath on her neck made her start and she jumped backwards as they reappeared from beneath their invisibility cloak.

“Brilliant, McG!” Fred said dropping into an absurd curtsy. “You're the first teacher who's helped Peeves!”

Minerva opened her mouth to retort, but closed it again almost immediately. “I don't know what you're talking about, Weasley,” she said eventually, dropping gracefully back into her chair. “Now weren't you working on your Skiving Boxes?”

Fred and George's faces split into identical grins, and they walked past her and Fred gave her a conspiratorial wink before stepping into the spare bedroom. Once the door had closed behind them Minerva allowed herself a laugh which soon turned into a cackle.

This was going so much better than she'd ever have imagined.

---

Fours hours later Minerva placed the final seventh year essay to one sighed and exhaled at length. Fred and George had left half-an-hour beforehand after perfecting the nosebleed nougat and assuring her they would check the infragilispotion the following day whilst she was in class. She removed her glasses and arched her spine, relishing the way her vertebrae righted themselves with a satisfying 'crack.'

She had reached for her ever present cup of tea when the door to her chambers opened and Pomona Sprout entered, closely followed by Rolanda Hooch. Minerva glanced at them quizzically as they threw themselves on the sofa opposite her and eyed her angrily thought she was sure their anger wasn't directed at her.

“Dare I ask what the matter is?” Minerva asked, conjuring two glasses of scotch as Rolanda withdrew a packet of cigarettes from her robes and lit it with the tip of her wand.

“Rolanda's been put on probation,” Pomona explained as the flying instructor dragged heavily on her cigarette and blew smoke toward the fireplace.

“Happens to the best of us,” Minerva said, reclining into her chair and folding her legs beneath herself. “I'm not only on probation, but received another verbal warning only yesterday.”

Rolanda and Pomona's eyes widened alarmingly. Minerva smirked as she reached forward and took Rolanda's cigarette from her hand and claimed it as her own.

“You don't seem too upset,” Rolanda said retrieving another cigarette as Minerva blew a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling.

“No point crying over spilled milk,” Minerva said, conjuring a small saucer and tapping ash onto it. “Not to mention I've found a way to 'get back at her' if you will.”

Pomona's face lit up with comprehension. “So that's why you wanted the password to the greenhouse.!”

“What are you doing?” Rolanda interrupted.

“Oh, this and that,” Minerva said airily. “You should expect some rather spectacular fireworks quite soon though.”

“I heard the Weasley twins talking about fireworks...” Pomona's voice trailed off as Minerva grinned broadly. “You!” she said incredulously. “You're behind them! But I thought you'd given that up after Marcus...”

Minerva's smiled vanished, and Pomona looked down at the floor. “Sorry, Minerva,” the Herbology Professor said as Minerva looked pointedly at the fire. “I forgot...”

“How easy for you,” Minerva snapped, stabbing the cigarette viciously against the saucer.

“Minerva!” Rolanda said sharply. “There was no need for that.”

The Head of Gryffindor glared at the flying instructor, her grey eyes boring into the other woman's hawk-like ones until, finally, Rolanda looked away.

“Let's go, Pomona,” she said softly, helping the Herbology Professor to her feet.

The two left the room, and Minerva glared at the back of the closed door. After several minutes she looked away, and her gaze was drawn to the mantle above the fire. A photo taken fifty years ago rested in the center, and her younger self beamed at her whilst a man pinned her arms to her sides. He was taller than her and his arms wrapped themselves around her waist as he lifted her bodily from the ground.

She looked into the face of her brother and her throat constricted as she punched him on the arm, forcing him to drop her. They fell to the snow covered ground, laughing to the point they were unable to move, and Minerva looked away as tears began to brim in her eyes.

Marcus was her twin and from the moment they were born they were inseparable. The two had entered Hogwarts together and were soon renowned for their outrageous pranks which surpassed even the best of the Marauders or the Weasley twins. At 14, they mastered their animagus transformations and would sneak around the castle, Minerva in her feline guise, and Marcus disguised as a Great Dane. No one knew of their animagus abilities which granted them an anonymity that allowed them access to every part of the castle. From hidden passageways they would travel to Hogsmeade and raid Honeydukes or (more often) Zonkos.

He'd died shortly after their 20th birthday, crossing the road from where they lived in London. A lorry had sped around the corner pursued by the police, and Marcus didn't have time to react and was crushed beneath its wheels. Given the properties of a wizard, theoretically he should have survived, but the Healers were less than proficient and he had died a week later.

Minerva had never been the same since.

Her laugh all but vanished for a decade and she threw herself into her work as an Auror before an injury forced her to hospital for three months. Whilst recovering Albus had offered her the Transfigurations Post, and she'd accepted immediately. Slowly, in the familiar environment with Poppy and Rolanda as support she began to heal, but Marcus' name was never mentioned.

Over the years she had taught countless students, but none had reminded her of Marcus as much as the Weasley twins. She conceded that the similarity had certainly pushed her to help them, and as she grew closer to them, she found herself healing as she should have done years beforehand.

Minerva sighed and looked at the ceiling for an instant before rising to her feet and donning her outer cloak.

She had an apology to make.

---

Pomona was in Greenhouse 7 when Minerva whispered the password and stepped inside, closing the door softly beside her. The Herbology Professor was pruning the Venomous Morticius viciously, and the metal shears clipped the stems. Below her, a pile of clippings had already formed and Minerva moved forward and watched her silently.

“He was my friend too,” Pomona said eventually, her round face pink with exertion. “You seem to forget that.”

“On the contrary, Pomona,” Minerva said softly. “I remember it well.”

“Then you should talk about him!” the Head of Hufflepuff said angrily, turning to face Minerva with her arms held tightly at her sides. “And not pretend he never existed!”

Minerva bit the bottom of her lip as she surveyed the shorter woman before her. “You're right,” she conceded eventually. “Of course, you're right.”

She slapped away the branch of a Stragulator that had curled around her shoulder and twisted one of its pods off which a quick flick of her fingers. “Remember how we made that destructo potion in seventh year?” she said, chaning the subject as a small smile unfurling on her lips. “Do you think it will have the same effect on the door to Umbridge's chambers?”

Pomona's eyes widened. “You're not serious?” she said disbelievingly.

Minerva grinned. “That's a 'yes' then?”

A laugh escaped from Pomona's lips, and she clasped her hand over her mouth as she nodded. Minerva placed a hand briefly on her shoulder. “Thank you,” she said softly.

Pomona shook her head. “I'll grab more pods.”

“And I'll get some poison from the Deadly Nightshade.”

The shorter woman's eyebrows threatened to become one with her hair.

“'Infragilis' potion,” Minerva said succinctly. “I'm making a batch in my spare bedroom.”

Pomona choked. “In your spare bedroom?” she managed eventually. “Have you gone mad? It's volatile!”

Minerva shrugged carelessly. “Which is why I have the Weasley twins check on it whilst I'm in class.”

The Herbology Professor stared at her blankly for a few moments before nodding slowly. “I'll get the pods, you get the Nightshade.”

“Excellent.”

---

Mere minutes later found the two women carefully emptying the sluggish contents of the Venomous Morticius pod into an empty toothpaste tube. Minerva twisted on the lid and leant back in the armchair, smirking at the woman opposite her.

“I'll give it to Peeves in the morning,” she said covering her mouth with a yawn.

“Peeves?” Pomona said, arching an eyebrow.

Minerva nodded. “Indeed.”

The was a sudden burst of flame from the fire, and Minerva glanced up to find Severus' head in the flames. He glared at her, but she noticed the corners of his mouth twitched.

“Severus?” Minerva inquired. “What can I do for you?”

“You can explain why you didn't tell me of your 'arrangement' with Peeves,” he drawled. “I just saw him wreaking havoc in Umbridge's office. It seems someone burst the drainpipe outside...a drainpipe one Deputy Headmistress broke herself...”

Minerva flushed a brilliant shade of crimson as both Severus and Pomona turned toward her. “I was merely...helping him,” she said eventually.

Severus grinned, and Minerva was pleased to see some colour come back to his pale cheeks. “Well, Minerva,” he said, and if she wasn't mistaken there was a cheerful note in his voice. “He's waiting outside your chambers. I thought it would look realistic if he were sent to you for punishment.”

He gave her one last fleeting grin before disappearing back through the flames. Minerva turned as she heard a knocking at her door, and rose to her feet and crossed the length of the room quickly. Peeves sped inside the same instant she opened the door and saluted her at once.

“Mr. Tall and Lanky said you had something for me, Miss, Professor, Miss!” he said in a military-style voice.

Minerva gestured at Pomona to throw her the toothpaste tube, and she caught it easily and held it out to the poltergeist. He raised an eyebrow at her.

“It's explosive,” Minerva explained. “Put a small amount on the door to her chambers, and in five seconds it will take effect. In the amount of time it takes for her to come running, I want you to have done something...creative in her rooms.”

Peeves hugged the toothpaste tube to his chest, and glided out the door again, humming under his breath. Minerva rolled her eyes as she recognised the tune.

Ding, dong, the witch is dead. Which old witch? The wicked witch!”

She walked back across the room and sat opposite Pomona.

“How long do you think it will take him...?” the Head of Hufflepuff began.

There was a deafening 'bang' and the walls of Minerva's chambers shook violently.

Minerva grinned. “Not very long, it seems,” she said, summoning a bottle of scotch toward her. “Fancy a shot?”

Pomona nodded, and conjured herself a crystal tumbler. “To Peeves,” she said, as Minerva filled her glass to the brim. “Make he make the toad woman's life hell!”

“Amen, to that!”

---

Author's notes: If you want this story, or any others updated, then review, review, review. Cheers. Minniequill

[StormAngel]

lol!! Great story!!! I have no idea why didn't I see that its up here too... This made my day. XD. And cheered me up immensely too.

[EloquentPhoenix]

*Cackles* Ohh that was too funny! She deserves everything she gets and I just love the way everyone is on side and helping out. Explosives indeed. That about Minerva's brother was very sad But it's a really good explanation as to why she wants to help Fred and George. I'm glad this is going to be a long story.

Real life is a bitch, isn't it? Do update when you can but we all understand when authors are busy.

[FireBird]

Oh, I just love seeing the teachers team up against Umbridge! The part about Marcus was interesting, and I can't wait to see what Umbridge's enemies come up with next. So I'd love to see this story updated soon.

[MinnieQuill]

Disclaimer: I do not own anything of JKR's.

Author's note: Exams are looming, and thus study beckons. As is becoming habit with my stories lately, I am writing this chapter under the cloud of a serious amount of caffeine and tobacco. However, I will be devoting any future caffeine induced insomnia to study and thus there will certainly be no more updates until after the 20th of June (my final exam day). Therefore, I ask you to please review and give me incentive to continue when the looming shadow of exams has passed!

On a side note – I should be able to update faster (after the 20th of June of course), therefore I urge you to contact me (via PM, review, email or blog comment) with your favourite story/stories so I can tally them up and decide which to update first. So far it seems that 'Here Where I Stand at the Turning of the Years' is the favourite.

Oh, and if you think this isn't how people act when drunk, then Lord knows where you've been.

Now...on with the story!

---

Chapter 5: Of Pranks and Poltergeists (Part II)

---

“Minerva?”

The Head of Gryffindor looked up blearily and attempted to focus on the Herbology Professor who sat, (or rather lay, sprawled) across from her on the sofa. Pomona's arm was dangling off the side, and her flyaway hair looked uncannily like Sybil Trelawney's as she lifted her head to look at the taller woman. Two (recently emptied) bottles of scotch hid most of the Hufflepuff's face, and Minerva craned her neck slightly to see over-top.

“Hmm?” she managed eventually, giving up any pretense of standing and settling for slumping back into the armchair. Her hair had fallen from its elaborate bun, and now fell well past her shoulders to her waist. She fingered a loose strand absentmindedly as she waited for the Hufflepuff to continue and summoned a small, crystal tumbler toward her.

“Who do you think the best-looking male is at Hogwarts?”

Minerva, (who was mid-way through sipping another mouthful of scotch,) spat out her drink, sending alcohol flying through the air and onto the carpet.

“Pomona!” she reprimanded sternly.

Her drinking companion didn't look remotely abashed and shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. She propped herself onto one elbow and eyed Minerva, her intoxication seemingly vanished for the moment. “Answer the question, Minerva,” she said, her full lips set in a hard line.

“I hardly think it's appropriate...”

“It's only me,” Pomona said, now adopting a conspiratorial 'girl's best friend tone'. “You can tell me.”

The two women stared at each other before Minerva was overcome by an unexplained fit of giggles. She snorted into her drink and quickly replaced it to the table as she leant forward clutching her stomach. Pomona was in a similar state, and Minerva watched in alarm as she rolled off the sofa and onto the floor, still wheezing.

“Personally, I've always thought that Severus is rather good-looking,” said the Head of Hufflepuff (artfully disguising a hiccup,) finally regaining some of her breath. “The strong, silent type, you know?”

Minerva's eyes widened dramatically. “Mr. Tall and Lanky, you mean?” she said, bursting into laughter again as she remembered Peeves' description.

“That's the one!” Pomona said, punching the air in mock triumph.

Hogwarts' Deputy Headmistress watched in amusement as her friend's arm fell across her chest, and her eyes closed shut as she began to snore. Thankful she hadn't been made to answer such a...well embarrassing question, she reached for her wand and levitated the Hufflepuff back onto the couch. She rose unsteadily to her feet, making sure that the ground wasn't about to move beneath her, and moved forward to drag a tartan throw over Pomona's inebriated form and tuck it beneath her chin.

Holding her arms out as if she were walking a tight-rope, she crossed the room slowly, mindful of the parchment that littered the floor (in a bout of exuberance Pomona had scattered her marking and now it had settled on the ground). She weaved an almost intelligible path through the sea of essays, and had nearly reached the opposite side when there was a loud knocking at her door.

Swearing profusely in a manner that would make any sailor proud, Minerva turned sharply and glared at the offending door as if the wood itself was responsible for the idiotic person who continued to knock. Realising that the creature (honestly, who dared to disturb her at...all right so it was only four o'clock in the afternoon, that was beside the point) was not going to disappear any time soon, she marched through the parchment, crushing several meticulously written seventh year essays. The knocking had grown incessantly louder, and she schooled her featured into their most terrifying glare as she wrenched the door open.

Dolores Umbridge looked up at her, and took a furtive step backward. Minerva raised an eyebrow; surely she didn't look any more intimidating than usual? She surreptitiously flicked her wand behind her back, clearing the parchment whilst simultaneously placing a concealment charm on Pomona's sleeping form as she stepped back and allowed the High Inquisitor to pass. Umbridge did so carefully, eying the Head of Gryffindor apprehensively, and kept her back firmly away from her.

Minerva closed the oak door with a bang, and turned to face Umbridge with her hands on her hips. She caught a blur of movement in the mirror opposite and her eyes widened and mouth twitched as she glimpsed her own reflection. In her current, (somewhat drunken) state she scarcely resembled 'Professor McGonagall' and could easily be mistaken for the 'Wild Woman of Borneo', or perhaps the Viking Queen Boadicea. The black locks, normally constrained in a simple, practical bun, were loose and had become somewhat tangled. Her skin, normally pale and unblemished, held a pinkish tinge and the lipstick she wore daily to dull their deep claret shade had vanished at some point during her and Pomona's drinking session, contrasting sharply with her hair.

Suppressing a hiccup, Minerva tore herself from her own reflection and stared imperiously down at Umbridge.

“What can I help you with, Dolores?” she said finally, noting with considerable pride that her words were not slurred in the slightest.

Umbridge swallowed nervously, but still managed to smile in her own, unique sickly way. Minerva's brow furrowed. If she committed murder under a self-induced state of intoxication, could she wrangle her way out of a life-long stay in Azkaban? Relegating the question to the back of her mind, she raised her eyebrows as she waited for Umbridge to speak.

“Hermione Granger refuses to adhere to the curriculum and is deliberately belligerent in class!” she said sanctimoniously. “Surely that should incite punishment?”

Minerva blinked several times to clear her head. “I'm sorry?” she said, suddenly tired.

Umbridge bristled as Minerva crossed the room and leant against the back of the sofa. She could hear Pomona snoring softly, and quickly cast a silencing charm.

“Hermione Granger. She refuses to...”

Minerva held her hand up. “I heard you the first time,” she said wearily. “Are you telling me that you sought me out and interrupted my afternoon purely because you are having trouble disciplining a student?”

Umbridge's smile vanished as if she had been slapped. “I...no, it's just...”

“Then if that's all, I would like to return to my previous activities, I believe one calls it a 'job.'”

Umbridge's mouth opened and closed several times, and her protuberant eyes bulged alarmingly. “I...I think you are being somewhat bellicose, Minerva!” she spluttered finally. “All teachers are meant to assist the High Inquisitor; not disagree with them! Another review is clearly in order!”

Minerva rolled her eyes and smirked. “An empty threat, Dolores. Unless you're going to take Transfigurations?”

Blood rushed to the High Inquisitors cheeks, which was not all together that surprising - Minerva (after hearing about the DADA appointment) – had found Umbridge's school records (she was several years above Minerva) – and the Gryffindor Head was overjoyed to find that she had only managed to pass three OWL's (Potions, History of Magic and Astronomy). Her joy was vindictive, Minerva would admit that, but really, one would have to be a dunderhead to do so badly; even Crabbe and Goyle, (who Minerva wouldn't even label as human – she preferred 'boulder') had managed an OWL in Charms.

“I can reduce your pay!” Umbridge cried, jutting her chin forward and thrusting her shoulders back.

Perhaps the alcohol had released too many of Minerva's inhibitions, for at this her smirk became a chuckle which soon evolved into a cackling laugh.

“I fail to see what is so funny!” Umbridge said indignantly.

“You wouldn't,” Minerva conceded, reeling in her laughter with difficulty. “Now, if you'll excuse me,” she said, pushing herself from the back of the sofa and gesturing toward the door. “I have a lot of work to do.”

Umbridge, for once followed her instinct, and left Minerva's chambers in a hurry, the oak door swinging shut behind her retreating figure. The Gryffindor Head stared at the back of the now-closed door.

Reduce her pay...

Still chortling, Minerva crossed the living room and headed for the shower.

---

Ten minutes later she re-emerged into the living room, a toweling robe wrapped tightly around her slim waist. Pomona was still snoring (Minerva had removed both the concealing ad the silencing charm before she entered the hall) and Minerva allowed herself a small smile as she hurried across the room to retrieve her outer robes which she had dropped by the door. The said robes were in her arms when the door burst open, and two identical red-heads burst inside and slammed the door behind them.

Their eyes widened as they saw her in her rather different (or rather lack of) attire, and both flushed deeply. Minerva adjusted the robes to cover herself as the twins regained their breath and pointedly looked at the ceiling.

“Boys...” she began warningly.

There was an instantly recognisable high-pitched shriek from along the corridor which shook the glass windows in their frames. Umbridge. Minerva glared at the two young men before her; her eyes (for once not hidden behind square-framed spectacles) narrowing dramatically.

“Well,” Fred began.

“She's been out...”

“All afternoon.”

“And we were walking past, and saw Peeves.”

“And he was really upset because even Filch hadn't come to see what the noise was; someone had given him something that blew up the door.”

“Because Filch was with her.”

“So we thought that we...”

“Would add some contributions.”

“I mean, they're only mice, Professor!”

Minerva opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted when Pomona gave a particularly loud snore. The twins glanced over curiously and their faces split into identical grins as they looked at the somewhat disheveled Head of Hufflepuff. Their eyes fell on the two empty scotch bottles, to the two crystal tumblers (hers was still half-full) and Minerva could almost see their minds processing the various items until...

“You're drunk, McG!”

The two beamed at her (without shoes they were the same height) and she rolled her eyes as she flicked her wand and her toweling robe became a pair of jeans and a blouse (well, in all good conscience she couldn't leave Pomona alone with the twins whilst she changed; she'd probably end up with rabbit whiskers sprouting from her cheeks.) The robes she banished to her bedroom and she (rather unsteadily) crossed the room and sank down in her armchair. The twins continued to smile at her, apparently expecting an answer.

“I am not drunk,” she said testily, resisting the urge to hiccup. “I, unlike Pomona do not feel the need to become paralytic.”

They shrugged and sat on the rug by the fire, George stretching out luxuriantly whilst Fred leant forward and eyed Minerva with a grin.

“Can we stay here until the fire dies down, McG?” he asked, giving her a roguish wink. “Umbridge will be after our blood.”

“Literally,” George added. “I think the woman's got a problem. A fetish thing, you know?”

Minerva shuddered. Even thinking of Dolores Umbridge and 'fetish' in the same sentence was enough to make her stomach turn. There was another high-pitched scream and Minerva could vaguely decipher 'sacrilege!' and 'detention' between the shrieks. Her interest peaked, she rose to her feet and crossed the room.

“Stay here,” she said over-her-shoulder before she opened the door. “And I expect to find Pomona in exactly the same position, with exactly the same appearance when I get back.”

The twins looked slightly crest-fallen but nevertheless nodded as she opened the door and stepped outside. The female screeches grew louder as Minerva walked briskly down the corridor (she'd never seen the point of dawdling – it wasted so much time), and there was a conspicuous lack of student interest. The twins had obviously given warning before they acted. It showed a level of chivalry that many would not associate with the red-heads and Minerva had to smile to herself as she marched.

Chivalry and the Weasley twins? Even a week ago she would have considered herself mad for even considering it a possibility.

She rounded the corner and immediately cast a levitation charm as a swarm of grey mice ran along the corridor toward her. The rodents ran beneath her suspended feet, their faint squeaks multiplying hundredfold.

“I mean, they're only mice, Professor!”

George's words rang in her ears as she floated toward Umbridge's chambers. The door was blown apart (the potion she'd given Peeves had obviously been effective) and shards of wood were splattered (literally) throughout the High Inquisitor’s private quarters, some embedding themselves into armchairs, whilst others speared through the hideous china plates. Minerva poked her head around the door to find Umbridge standing behind her desk, her toad face still contorted in a (now silent) scream. Mice ran over her shoes and the desk, their furry bodies obscuring the carpet from view. Umbridge looked up at Minerva as if she were the Messiah.

“Professor McGonagall!” she said shrilly. “There must be something you can do!”

Minerva nodded absentmindedly as she assessed Umbridge's quarters. Peeves had been true to his word, there was not one piece of furniture that was not broken. He had also ripped down the wallpaper, as well as filling every cushion with some sort of smoking device that gave off a pungent odour. The carpet was in tatters, and judging by the smell emanating from what was presumably Umbridge's bedroom, he had also burst a sewerage pipe. Minerva's nostrils flared, and she quickly cast a 'deodiris' charm so she didn't have the perpetual urge to vomit.

“Minerva!”

The Gryffindor Head drew her attention away from her surroundings and to Umbridge who had turned a delightful shade of fuchsia.

“Hmm?” she asked, looking at Umbridge and noting with some alarm that she seemed to have developed another head.

And this, Minerva, is why you never drink with Pomona Sprout!

“Are you going to just stand there, or are you going to do something!” Umbridge shrieked at the top of her lungs, causing Minerva to wince.

“Yes, of course,” she muttered, withdrawing her wand from her back pocket. “Peskimici Peskinomi!”

The made-up spell did nothing except aggravate the mice, and they squeaked even louder, much to Umbridge’s terror and she began screaming again. Minerva (whose hearing was intensified as a by-product of her animagus form, winced and quickly flicked her wand, to be ride of the noise more than any concern for the High Inquisitor.

With a slight ‘crack’ the mice vanished into thin air and Minerva smiled at Umbridge who was now dusting off her cardigan.

“Thank you, Professor McGonagall,” she said tartly, now straightening the pink bow in her hair. “Not that I couldn’t have managed on my own, of course…”

“Of course,” Minerva echoed coldly.

She turned on her heel and marched into the corridor, only to find Peeves waiting around the next corner.

“Miss, Professor, Miss!” he said, bouncing on his feet. “Umbridge wasn’t there and…”

“But she’s there now, Peeves,” Minerva interrupted, smiling conspiratorially.

An evil grin, that made even Minerva apprehensive, spread across the poltergeist’s face and he hurried past her. He had almost rounded the corner when Minerva called out to him.

“And Peeves? Make it creative.”

The little man saluted smartly, and with an evil cackle sped around the corner. Minerva continued down the hallway to her rooms quickly, not wanting to be seen near the scene of the crime. She was at the door to her chambers when she heard the Toad Woman’s voice.

“No! I am the High Inquisitor...put that down now, you horrible little poltergeist! DOWN, I say!”

Now grinning, she opened the door and stepped inside.

---

[MinnieQuill]

Of Pranks and Poltergeists Part II (continued)

---

Fred and George Weasley looked up in alarm as she leant against the now-closed door laughing helplessly. She shook her head dismissively, causing her long hair to fall across her face, and slid down the timber door, her slim frame shaking with mirth.

“You are drunk, McG,” Fred said wondrously as she fought to regain breath.

Minerva rolled her eyes; the way these two were acting it was as if she had never consumed an alcoholic beverage. Fools.

With great difficulty she hauled herself to her feet and staggered over to the lounge and sat next to Pomona’s (still snoring) form.

“Only a few mice?” she said, raising an eyebrow at George who flushed and looked down at his feet.

“New trick,” Fred interjected happily. “Place it on the table and when a person touches it, the object will turn into what animal they fear most. It will then multiply in number depending on the number and intensity of the screams this will cause.”

Minerva nodded, extremely impressed. “How did you manage to figure out what they’re afraid of?” she asked, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees.

Fred thrust his chest out and attempted (unsuccessfully) not to look too pleased with himself. “That was the only tricky part, McG,” he began. “I found a boggart in one of the toilets on the fourth floor and caught it and because the thing I’m most afraid of is…”

His voice trailed off and he looked down at the floor, his cheeks now vying for the description of ‘scarlet’ against her drapes. George raised his head, his brow furrowed.

“What are you scared of?” he asked curiously. “That’s one thing you’ve never told me.” He turned to Minerva who had raised her eyebrows. “I don’t like vampires,” he said matter-of-factly. “The whole blood thing…just..urgh…”

“Fred?” Minerva asked gently, ignoring George. “I won’t laugh, and neither will George.” She shot George a look that, as James Potter had once described, ‘scorches.’

“Idunlikedragonflies,” Fred mumbled.

Minerva exchanged a look with George, who shrugged his broad shoulders.

“Can you repeat that, Fred?”

“I don’t like dragonflies,” he repeated, glaring at George who had dissolved into silent laughter.

Minerva herself was having a hard time keeping a straight face, but reached over and patted him on the knee, urging him to continue.

“So, I caught the swarm of…dragonflies…and took them to the Room of Requirement where I cut them up and boiled them in a ‘staius’ potion so they remained in an animal form. From there it was easy to soak the potion into an object, for Umbridge I used a kitten stature, and voila!”

He struck a dangerously effeminate pose, his hands outstretched and lips puckered. Minerva did laugh then, and fell back into the sofa, narrowly avoiding Pomona’s legs. Fred grinned and leant back on the rug. “Glad to see that amuses you, McG,” he said dryly.

Minerva nodded absentmindedly as she stared at the ceiling. “You two could probably sneak off now. Umbridge is currently dealing with Peeves, I doubt she’d be in any position to apprehend you.”

To her surprise the twins looked crest-fallen as they rose to their feet and muttered their goodbyes. Fred glanced up, and she recognized hurt in his eyes.

“Unless you two would like to stay for dinner? I wasn’t going to go to the Staff Table anyway,” she quickly amended.

Fred and George turned simultaneously. “Brilliant, McG!”

---

They were just finishing their desert (fudge-covered ice-cream – not that Minerva would ever admit in public to eating such a … childish desert) when she heard the sofa creak as Pomona resurfaced from her drunken slumber. She looked blearily from Minerva (who was half-way through a mouthful of ice-cream) to George (who had chocolate sauce dripping from his chin) and finally to Fred who looked somewhat suave as he leant back in his chair, one arm stretched over its back as he sipped his mug of hot chocolate. Apparently deciding that she was hallucinating she shook her head roughly, presumably to dispel the image before her; when that didn’t work she slumped forward, her head hung between her knees.

“Tell me I’m seeing things, Minerva,” she said, her voice somewhat muffled.

Minerva swallowed her mouthful of ice-cream (giving herself brain freeze in the process), but Fred answered for her.

“’Fraid not, Sprouty!” he said cheerfully.

Pomona’s head jerked upward, her green eyes wide with amazement and irritation (if it was one nickname she hated, it was ‘Sprouty.’)

“Dolores is after them,” Minerva tried to explain, holding the left side of her skull which was still smarting. “It was safer to keep them here.”

“And we can discuss our business,” George interjected, holding his stomach with one hand, whilst he wiped his chin with the other. “Very important business.”

Pomona blinked; somehow slowly and startled at the same time. “Business?” she managed eventually.

George nodded happily. “We’re setting up a joke shop! ‘Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes’! Catchy or what?”

There was a groan from the Herbology Professor punctuated by ‘say that ten times fast.’

“There’ll be a discount to those who swear to use their products to make Umbridge’s life hell,” Fred added. “And McG here is coming up with some brilliant stuff.” He gestured at Minerva who tried not to look too pleased with herself.

“Fireworks that get worse when you try and vanish them.”

“Portable Swamp.”

“That thing she gave Peeves – brilliant, that was.”

“Measles Malady – that’s a new ‘Skiving Snackbox.”

Pomona held her hand up and they stopped talking immediately. “Give me ice-cream and I’ll tell you how to turn a teacher’s drink into alcohol.”

“Isn’t there an anti-transfiguration spell on the castle that prevents that?” Fred asked, his brown eyes alight with interest.”

“Pomona…” Minerva began warningly, but the Head of Hufflepuff silenced her with the look.

“Who better to get around a anti-transfiguration spell than a Transfigurations expert?”

The twins swiveled to face Minerva who was glaring at her supposed best friend. “No,” she said adamantly, shaking her head furiously. “No, no, no.”

“Please, McG,” George said pleadingly.

“McG…” Fred whined, attempting puppy-dog eyes.

Minerva continued to shake her head.

“How did you wake the Headmaster up on Saturday, Minerva?” Pomona said, smirking as Minerva turned to her with a face full of outrage.

Fred and George looked both eager (presumably about the alcohol spell) and squeamish at the thought of the possible ways she had awoken the Headmaster.

“All I did was change his alarm clock!” Minerva said heatedly. “Nothing else!”

Pomona looked at her skeptically.

“I’ll take veritaserum!” Minerva continued, her voice becoming shrill. “I have never, ever even considered the possibility…”

“All right, all right, McG,” Fred said, waving his hand dismissively. “We believe you. Tell us about the spell.”

Minerva continued to glare at Pomona who waved cheerfully as she took the bowl of ice-cream that George held out.

“First of all, you need to remove the first anti-transfiguration spell from the goblet or bottle. From there it’s fairly simple…”

---

As was becoming common of late, it was dark when the Weasley’s rose to their feet and bid her goodbye. As Fred saluted (today he refrained from his usual curtsey), his sleeve dropped and Minerva again caught a glimpse of the reason she was associating with them. Fred caught the direction of her gaze and hurriedly pulled his sleeve down, but Minerva shook her head and took his hand in hers, pushing the material away.

“McG,” he protested. “It’s nothing, really. It barely even hurts.”

Minerva shook her head as she reached for her wand and pointed it at the fresh wound. Instantly the cut healed, though the words ‘I will not undermine the High Inquisitor’ shone, a white scar against his freckled skin.

“Is this her usual punishment?” she asked, any playfulness that may have been in her voice now vanished.

Fred shook his head. “Nah, me, George, Lee and Harry have been the only ones.”

Minerva closed her eyes briefly. “Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

It was an obvious dismissal and the twins left, leaving Minerva and Pomona alone. She turned back to the Herbology Professor whose face, upon seeing Minerva’s expression, turned to one of both concern and question.

“Minerva, what…?”

“Have you heard of ‘blood quills’,” Minerva said heavily, crossing the room and collapsing next to Pomona.

The Head of Hufflepuff’s eyes widened dramatically. “She isn’t?” she gasped incredulously.

“She is,” Minerva retorted. “That conniving, stupid, ministry-goddamn-puppet is injuring my students and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it!”

Her voice rose to a shout and she only vaguely registered that she had leapt to her feet and begun pacing.

“She walks in here and fills the castle with lies and allegations; spreading the word that You-Know-Who hasn’t returned when it is bloody obvious that he has! Does she think Cedric Diggory, a young innocent boy dropped dead of his own accord! He was seventeen, Pomona, seventeen! But a goddamn megalomaniac took his life away because he was inconvenient! How is that fair? How is that fair?!”

She ran a hand through her hair, tangling it even more. Pomona looked up at her, her expression stolid as Minerva continued on her rant.

“And I’m helping the twins, and its great fun, I’ll admit that, but how many more students will be hurt by that idiot who has the audacity to appoint herself as ‘High Inquisitor!’ So far there’s only been four hurt, and the only reason I found out is because Fred wasn’t quick enough to pull his sleeve down. They’re suffering in goddamn silence. And can I do anything? No! Because with Albus away all the time there has to be an Order presence that students actually trust.”

She exhaled at length, her fists clenched and lips thinned.

“But did anyone of them come to see me of their own prerogative? No! Because I’m the person they respect, not the one they trust, the one they respect! What sort of teacher does that make me! What sort, Pomona!?"

The Head of Hufflepuff looked at her with wide eyes, but when she spoke her voice was calm. “You’re a teacher who the students go to in need, Minerva. Hermione Granger and Ginevra Weasley; both girls were on the brink of depression, and you brought them back. Look at Fred and George now; they worship the very ground you walk upon. And Severus – you’re the only person at Hogwarts who he even remotely trusts. Who did Neville Longbottom go to when his grandmother sent him that awful letter? Who even noticed that there was anything the matter with the boy? Who took Remus Lupin under their care, with no questions asked? Who did Sirius Black go to when he decided to run away from home? Do you remember the crushes those two had on you? They did half of their pranks to get your attention. So don’t ever say that your students don’t trust you, Minerva. Because they trust you implicitly!”

Minerva looked at Pomona blankly, debating whether or not to laugh or cry before bursting into the former. “Black and Lupin were hilarious, weren’t they?” she said falling next to her Hufflepuff counterpart.

Pomona nodded as the corners of her mouth twitched. “The singing valentine…”

“The bunches of roses…”

“Cat statues…”

“God, I had thousands, didn’t I?”

The two fell silent and Pomona reached over and squeezed her fingers gently. “Better?”

Minerva nodded. “Better, thank you.”

The other woman nodded as she rose to her feet and crossed the room. “And, Minerva?” she said as she reached the door.

The Head of Gryffindor raised her head and raised her eyebrows quizzically.

“Please remember what I said.”

Minerva nodded silently as Pomona disappeared through the door and down the corridor. The arm chair she sat upon was warm and comforting, but Minerva shivered nonetheless as she thought of Umbridge who took glee in harming young men and women.

“God, those boys,” she muttered, holding her hair back from her face as she leant forward.

She jerked upright as a glimmer of an idea flittered in her mind. She may not be able to stop Umbridge, but she could lessen the pain. Nodding to herself she rose to her feet and grabbed a handful of floo powder. She stepped within the emerald flames, and in a matter of seconds re-emerged in Severus’ chambers. Hogwarts’ Potions Master glanced up from his desk where he was marking homework.

“Minerva?” he asked, and if she wasn’t mistaken there was a note of concern in his voice. “What…?”

“Severus, I need to ask you a favour,” she interrupted.

The Slytherin Head furrowed in brow in puzzlement, but nodded nevertheless.

“I need you to teach the fifth years about Myrtlap essence.”

Severus’ eyebrows flew toward his hairline. “Why?”

“Umbridge is using a blood quill, and there’s nothing I can do to stop her. But if you could teach them about Myrtlap essence, then Hermione Granger…”

The black-haired man held his hand up, silencing her. “I’ll do it, Minerva.”

She nodded, and an awkward silence fell between them. “Severus,” she said eventually. “Don’t bit my head off, but are you … okay?”

The word hung between them, and the Potions Master glared at her for a brief moment before looking down at the floor.

“I’ve been better,” he admitted softly.

Minerva crossed the space between them, and for reasons unbeknownst to herself drew him into a brief hug. As she expected, he stiffened in her embrace, but she held him a moment longer and he squeezed her gently before stepping back.

Her cheeks flared as the two looked anywhere but at each other. “If you ever need anything…” she said eventually.

Severus nodded briefly, and with a shoo-ing movement hurried her toward the fireplace. “Now off you go,” he said with his hand on the small of her back. “Go and…I don’t know, help Peeves.”

She smiled at him briefly as she stepped back into the flames and flooed back to her chambers. Once in her familiar surroundings, she quickly flicked her wand, dimming the fire, and sank into the arm chair, conjuring a mug of hot chocolate.

As she sipped the comforting brew, she glanced up at the mantle at the photo of herself and Marcus. His grey eyes twinkled as he hugged her photographic self, whilst looking down at her. A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she drew her legs toward her chest.

The Weasley twins; who’d of thought that they’d help her heal more in the space of a few days than she had in a decades.

---

Author’s note: No story of mine is complete without angst. Please review and I’ll update this and a few ASAP (after exams but I do have them planned…well some of them ) Cheers. Minniequil

[EloquentPhoenix]

Thank you from giving me a welcome and needed break from revision and stress. It made me laugh, smile, sad and definitely cheered me up. So thank you. I still love this story, it's one of a kind. I liked the little mentions of ADMM in this chapter. I'd have loved for Min to answer Pomona's question

Please update this one first, I vote this.

Good luck with all of your exams. Sorry this isn't the best review I've ever written, I'm not quite with it atm.

[MinnieQuill]

Hey, I'm just glad you liked it. And in my exam-induced stupor, I am currently banging on the keys creating a 'prequel' to this thing. I got a review which said they wanted more insight into Remus and Sirius' crushes, and the idea is just so cute that I had to do it. No idea when I'll finish it though... I don't seem to be able to write things less than 4000 words lately. Annoying really.