The Book of Names

Minerva McGonagall reclined in her hospital bed, in the private room which Dumbledore had somehow managed to arrange for her, propped up with several pillows, watching the endless procession of people past her open door. Visitors, healers, other patients wandered past at regular intervals. She sighed. She had had enough of people-watching, but she was stuck in some strange limbo state in which she was too awake to sleep, and yet couldn't concentrate for more than a moment on anything remotely taxing. She thought she might manage reading the paper, but nobody would give her one. She was suspicious, but she didn't have the energy to waste following up on it. But this inactivity was boring her.

Suddenly, she broke into a smile as another person approached, and entered the room.

'Albus!'

Professor Dumbledore sat beside her bed and smiled back, patting her hand warmly.

'How are you feeling, Minerva?'

'Much better than I was, thank you. They say they might let me out for the end of term. But Albus, what's been happening? Nobody will tell me! Is everyone alright? Did anything happen after I was... gone?'

'A great deal has happened,' he said, gently. 'Minerva, Sirius is dead.'

She sat up suddenly, grasping his hands. 'Dead? But... he was safe...how could it have...' She sunk back into the pillows. 'Oh, poor Sirius. Is Harry alright? How is he taking it?'

'Not terribly well, but that's only to be expected, I suppose.'

'But... I don't understand how this could have happened...'

Dumbledore leaned closer to speak more quietly. 'There was a battle with the Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries. Voldemort lured Harry there by making him believe that he had Sirius captive. The other children got involved too - Ron and Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood.'

Minerva's eyes closed in horror. 'Are they all alright?'

'Yes, they're fine. As are the rest of the Order. Tonks was discharged today.'

'But what about the...' She broke off as her Healer approached the bed.

'I hope you aren't tiring her out, Professor Dumbledore,' she chided. 'She is still very ill and she needs her rest.'

'Certainly,' said Dumbledore. 'I shall come back and see you again later, Minerva.' He squeezed her hand once more and left the room.

Minerva thumped the blankets in frustration. There was so much more she needed to know! And she would never get to hear it all in here,with the healers keeping such a close eye on her. She hated hospitals.

* * *

Minerva was dozing when her next visitor arrived. Poppy Pomfrey woke her to show her the biggest fruit basket she had ever seen. Minerva sat up a little, and smiled.

'Is that for me?'

'It certainly is. The importance of diet in quick healing should not be underestimated. How are you feeling, dear?'

'You really want to know? Absolutely dreadful. But I still can't wait to get out of here. The place is driving me mad.'

'It must be,' Poppy smiled sympathetically. 'I'm sorry I couldn't keep you in the hospital wing, but you were in an awful state, Minerva.'

'I know. It isn't your fault.'

'I know that, but still, I felt awful telling young Potter that you weren't there.'

'Potter came to see me?'

'Oh, yes, came running in saying he needed to see you immediately, and I had to tell him you weren't there. He looked absolutely crushed. But I asked Dumbledore about it after they all got back from that dreadful battle, and he said I oughtn't to worry.'

'Oh, that's alright then...'

'And I'm sure you'll be pleased to hear that that awful Umbridge woman is out for good. Got into a bit of an altercation with the centaurs, apparently. And Dumbledore's back in, and everything's right with the world. Well, Hogwarts at least. Of course, things aren't quite so right elsewhere, but that's a topic for another day.'

Minerva shrugged.

'I can see I've tired you out, dear. I'll just let you sleep, and I'll drop in again later in the week. It was so lovely to see you awake and getting better.'

Once Poppy had gone Minerva did try to sleep, but the thoughts racing through her head would not allow her to rest. In the end, the Healer gave her a Sleeping Draught, much against Minerva's inclination, and she finally fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

Dumbledore visited again the next day, and he seemed taken aback when Minerva sprang a question on him as he arrived.

'Why was Potter trying to find me?'

He sighed, and sat down beside the bed.

'I was going to wait until you were stronger to tell you the whole story...'

'But I want to know now.'

Dumbledore sighed deeply, and stared at his hands for several moments before speaking.

'Harry wanted to tell you that he'd had a vision about Sirius being held captive by Voldemort.'

'He needed my help.'

'Knowing Harry, it's possible that he would have gone to the Ministry whatever you had said, especially since Dolores Umbridge was...'

'He needed my help and I wasn't there.'

'I... that is certainly one way of looking at it.'

Minerva lay with her hands pressed over her face, taking deep breaths. Dumbledore leaned over to take her hands away and hold them in his own. There were tears in her eyes.

'I've let you down again, Albus.'

'Don't say that, Minerva...'

'But it's true! If I hadn't been so reckless, if only I had stopped to find some back-up, I wouldn't have ended up here, and I would have been able to help Harry, and he would never have had to go to the Ministry, and Sirius would still be here!'

'We can't know what would have happened...'

'But you can't deny that, if I had been there, Harry might not have gone to the Ministry.'

'I...'

'This is what happens when you leave me in charge of something important!' she wrenched her hands from his. 'I just let you down! It happened sixteen years ago, and now I've done it again! If it weren't for me, everything would be alright! Harry and Neville would still have their parents, all of these terrible things would never have happened... '

'Minerva, you can't hold youself responsible for every bad thing that has happened in the past sixteen years...'

'I can if I want to!'

'Please, Minerva... it wasn't your fault...'

She turned over so that her back was to him.

'I should like to rest now,' she said.

Resignedly, he patted her shoulder and retreated. The door clicked shut behind him. Out in the corridor, he heard violent sobbing. He thought of going back in, but Minerva had never liked anyone to see her cry. With a heavy heart, he made his way back down to the entrance.

Minerva didn't sleep for a long time, and when she finally did, she dreamed of another time when trust had been placed in her, and she had failed to justify that trust. She had failed Dumbledore. She tossed and turned, remembering.

* * *

'And, one final announcement,' said Professor Dumbledore, 'due to Professor Rimpole's retirement, Professor McGonagall will be taking on the post of Deputy Headmistress, in addition to her current duties as Head of Gryffindor!'

There was enthusiastic applause from the Gryffindor table, and polite clapping from the other three. The Great Hall was the emptiest it had been for several years - the ongoing war against the Death Eaters meant that many people preferred to have their children close at hand - but still there were a fair few students sat at the four House Tables. Minerva raised her glass to them in recognition, trying not to smile too widely. Dignity, that was the key. There was no need for anyone to know how excited she was, inside. And certainly no reason to tell anybody that she had actually, in the privacy of her office, jumped up and down.

The rest of the start-of-term feast seemed interminable. Dumbledore had asked to meet with her afterward to go over her new duties, and she was looking forward to it, although she wasn't certain exactly what these new duties would be. She caught his eye, and he winked at her, obviously aware of what she was thinking. She could hardly wait, and yet more and more courses kept appearing. Would it never be over?

At long last, the last plates vanished, and the students began to get up and head out for the common rooms and dormitories. Dumbledore got up and inclined his head to indicate that Minerva should follow him.

'Excellent feast this year,' he mentioned as they made their way towards his office.

'Was it?' said Minerva.

'Particularly tasty fish, I thought. Although I did notice that you didn't seem to have much appetite. Cockroach cluster.'

They ascended the moving staircase to his office.

'Well, I had other things on my mind, didn't I?' she said.

He chuckled. 'I'm glad you're so enthusiastic about your new role, Minerva. Do take a seat, and I'll tell you what you've been itching to know all summer.'

'Albus, I'm not some schoolgirl!' she settled into the chair in front of his desk. 'I'm just... eager to contribute to Hogwarts in a new way.'

He snorted. 'Of course, Minerva. Just remember that I knew you when you were a schoolgirl. You haven't changed all that much, you know.'

'Oh, Albus, that's ridiculous!' she laughed, but she was pleased, all the same.

He laughed too, as he took a sheet of paper from a drawer.

'Now then, here is the list of your main responsibilities...'

Minerva listened attentively and took notes, even though it was all laid out on the paper. It was mostly as she had expected - extra administrative duties, a few extra privileges, responsibility for the Staff Room and the house-elves.

'And now, we come to the last, and most important duty,' said Dumbledore. 'The Book of Names.'

Minerva sat up even straighter at that. Of course, she had heard of the Book, but she had never actually seen it. It was attached to a magic quill, bewitched hundreds of years ago by Helga Hufflepuff herself, which wrote down in it the names of every magical child born in Britain.

'It will be your responsibility, each summer, to look in the Book and note down which students are due to start at Hogwarts, in order to send them their introductory letters. You must also arrange for a member of staff to personally deliver the letters to Muggle-born students. Not only that, but the Book itself will be your personal responsibility, and yours alone.' He leaned closer to her, his expression serious. 'Minerva, I have my reasons for wanting that book to be kept very, very safe. It must not, must not, fall into the hands of anyone other than you. This is of the utmost importance. Protect that book with every resource at your disposal - do you understand me?'

'Yes, Albus.'

Minerva's eyes widened as he went over to a cupboard, lifted several protective spells, and reached in to retrieve the Book. He turned to hand it to her, and even holding it with both hands she sagged a little with the weight. The Book was large, and covered in dragon skin. There was a Hogwarts crest on the cover, very faded. The pages were made of thick parchment.

'Take this right away, and deal with it before you do anything else.'

'Of course, Albus.'

'And Minerva... thank you for doing this. There's nobody I trust more.'

She nodded, and turned to leave. He watched her go.

* * *

Back in her own office, Minerva picked up her wand, preparing to cast the spells which would shield the Book from anyone's touch but her own, and alert her if anyone else tried to touch it. Something made her hesitate. She smiled a little. After all, she was the guardian of the Book now, it was perfectly reasonable for her to look inside.

She took a deep breath as she opened the cover. It creaked as she moved it. The Book was so old, so important, that she felt awed. The first page was written in an almost illegible hand, so archaic that she could barely make out the names. Helga Hufflepuff had written these names herself, she knew. It was almost intoxicating to feel so close to the founders. She read the first few names: Aedilhild of Golse, Armigil Belleme, Liffild Ravenclaw, Siward son of Ham, Osgarus Peverel, Heloynet Malfoi, Godleva of Hathersage...

She turned the stiff pages carefully, reading some of the names aloud to hear the sound of them. She smiled when she found the first MacGonigle in the middle of the fourteenth century. There were other names that cropped up frequently too - Malfoy, Weasley, Bones, Black. Eventually she found her own entry. Turning a little further, she saw other familiar names - Molly Prewett, Filius Flitwick, Pomona Sprout, then further still - Frank Longbottom, Alice Moody, James Potter, Lily Evans, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Severus Snape...

She turned to the last pages, the children born in the last two years or so. Several names back, she spotted Harry Potter - she had visited the Potters around this time last year, when Harry was just a couple of months old. She felt rather guilty that she hadn't been more recently, but it was so difficult these days. She only saw James and Lily at Order meetings, and then usually only very briefly. Neville Longbottom was the name before Harry's - his grandmother Augusta was a friend of hers and she heard frequently about his progress. Ronald Weasley, then several names further down, Ginevra Weasley - that was hardly surprising, Molly and Arthur had always wanted a house full of children. Parvati Patil, Padma Patil, Susan Bones, Su Li, Luna Lovegood, Colin Creevey, Daphne Greengrass...

In ten or eleven years time, these children would be starting at Hogwarts. They were too young yet to know everything that lay in store for them, too young to understand the war that was raging around them. Perhaps it would be over and done with by the time they were old enough. Perhaps they would be safe and happy and never have to worry.

A clock chimed outside, snapping Minerva from her reverie. She suddenly remembered that she was supposed to be guarding the Book, not reading it. She cast the spells with her usual care and precision, put the Book into her desk drawer, locked the drawer, cast a final protective charm over the entire desk, and left for the Staff Room.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Minerva settled easily into her new duties. The administrative tasks were simple, and she enjoyed the extra responsibility as much as she had expected to. Twice a day, she checked the protection spells on the Book. Once a week she reset them completely. She knew that the Book was important, but she couldn't help wondering why Dumbledore had been so adamant about its safety. Still, it wasn't wise to ask. Albus Dumbledore knew what he was doing.

* * *

It was a sunny Wednesday morning, and Minerva was teaching a class of third-years. The mood in the room was subdued - there had been another Death Eater attack in Diagon Alley - but the students were doing their best to be attentive, and Minerva was doing her best to act as though everything was normal.

'The incantation is similar to the one we used last week, but this one...' Minerva stopped. Her head whipped round, and she dropped the textbook she was holding. The Intruder Charm on her desk had been set off.

'Carry on practising that until I get back!' she cried as she sprinted between the rows of desks and out of the room.

Once in the corridor, she gathered speed, skidding around a corner, launching herself onto the stairs and...

She had chosen the wrong route. Those damned moving staircases! She could see, as she ran up the stairs, that the next flight had moved too far away even for a running jump. Taking an alternate route would waste precious seconds. And she was already moving too fast to stop...

Still running, Minerva transformed into a cat, hitting the final stair just in time to hurl herself across the abyss, paws outstretched. She just barely landed on the next stair, scrabbled for purchase, flew up the remaining stairs, skittered down a corridor, and skidded to a halt, transforming back in time to throw open the door to her office and yell:

'STUPEFY!'

Wandless spells were always a little uncertain, and the intruder seemed only slightly stunned, and so Minerva took advantage of his momentary disorientation to push him to the ground, grab his wand and repeat the stunning spell.

Once he lay unconscious on the floor, she looked around the rest of the room to make sure that he was the only one, then checked to see that the book was safe. It was, perfectly. Not a page had been touched, and her barrier charm was still in place. He hadn't even managed to open the drawer. Thank goodness she had been so careful to renew the protective spells!

Minerva put the book away again and let out the breath she had been holding. Her pulse hammered in her temples. She ducked out of the room for a moment and called out.

'Did you want something, Professor?' asked the Fat Friar, who was drifting past.

'Yes, please fetch Dumbledore right away,' Minerva said, before going back into the room.

As she waited, still holding the intruder's wand, Minerva looked at the unconscious figure. She didn't recognise him. He was tall, and dark-haired. He was dressed all in black. She knelt on the floor beside him to grasp his forearm and pull up the sleeve.

She gasped. It was there; the Dark Mark. She pulled the sleeve back down again quickly, not looking at the symbol. Just seeing it made her feel a little sick.

'Minerva?'

'Albus!' She stood up quickly. 'He's a Death Eater. He was trying to get at the Book, although I can't imagine why...'

'Did he see it? Minerva, did he look at any of the pages?' Dumbledore's voice was urgent, afraid.

'No, he didn't get past my barrier charm.'

Dumbledore seemed to sag a little with relief, but it was so brief that Minerva wasn't sure she had seen it, and now he was back to normal.

'We'll need to confine him somewhere until the Aurors can come and fetch him,' Dumbledore said. 'You've done well, Minerva. I knew I could trust you with this.'

'But why is it so important?' she asked, unable to resist. 'What's in the Book that Voldemort wants to know so badly?'

'I can't tell you that, I'm afraid,' he said. 'I know it seems unfair, but it is better that you do not know.'

Minerva frowned deeply, but said nothing. She trusted Dumbledore's judgement.

The Death Eater's name was Augustus Trepkos, Minerva found out. Some aurors came to take him away after a little while. She was glad to see him removed. She wanted to ask Dumbledore some questions, but he had already retreated to his office and she didn't want to disturb him. He might have asked if she was alright though, she thought, as she headed back down to her classroom, pausing to pick up her wand, which she had dropped on the stairs during her transformation. That was the trouble with being so capable and reliable - nobody thought for a moment that you couldn't cope. And of course she could; she was fine. If she was a little shaky, it was only an after-effect of transforming while running up all those stairs.

Her class had all left when she entered the room - of course, it was breaktime now. And she had another class to teach in a few minutes time, and she would act like everything was perfectly normal. Of course, nothing was normal these days, but Hogwarts was supposed to be a safe haven. How had a Death Eater even gotten inside? She pushed the question from her mind as her first-years filed in.

* * *

It was an evening a little over a week later when Minerva, after resetting the protection on the Book, went to her room to prepare for bed. It had been a good day. Her classes had gone well. There had been an Order meeting - she hadn't attended, but Dumbledore had, and he informed her that they had some new ideas to use against the Death Eaters. She contemplated this as she sat at her dressing table and undid her bun, laying the pins in a neat row in front of her. She watched her reflection - serious expression in her eyes, brush moving in smooth, regular strokes through her dark hair, mouth set in its usual straight, determined line. There were a few little creases now, just at the corners of her eyes and mouth. She wasn't getting old, of course not. But the war was taking its toll, and she wasn't precisely young any more, either. Mature, that was it. Experienced.

A movement in the mirror made her spin around, but it was already too late. By the time she thought of a spell to form, a curse was already flying towards her, and everything went black.

* * *

'What did you do with the Book?' demanded the Death Eater. Minerva knew of him. His name was Jugson.

Minerva said nothing, only glared at him. She was sitting on a stone floor, in a room with no windows. Her wrists were chained to an iron ring set in the stone, and it was making her arms and back ache.

Jugson circled her. He kept slapping his wand in his huge palm as he watched her. She watched him back. She had heard stories about what the Death Eaters did to captives, even those that they didn't need information from. And so she was on her guard when he suddenly spun towards her and yelled:

'CRUCIO!'

Years of being an animagus meant that Minerva was particularly skilled at wandless magic. She cast a shield charm as soon as she saw him move, and was able to hold it steady as he continued casting. He cursed, realising that his spell was having no effect, then recast. Still, Minerva kept up the shield charm, fists clenching with effort. Jugson yelled in frustration, threw his wand to the ground, strode over to her and aimed a punch at the side of her head. She ducked, and the blow glanced off her temple. Scowling, he grabbed her by the throat to hold her still to hit her in the face, once, twice, then threw her angrily to the ground.

'What did you do with the Book? Where is it?' he snarled, as she struggled into a sitting position again, blinking blood away from her eyes.

Still Minerva said nothing. She focused on breathing deeply, and that way it was easier to push the pain to the back of her mind and concentrate on the matter at hand. She had to escape, of course. But how? She considered transforming, then rejected the idea. Where would she go? The room was sealed tight. At least as a human she could deflect hexes and operate door handles. Her cat form would only be useful once she was out of the room.

Jugson retrieved his wand and tried the Cruciatus Curse once more, without success. Then, muttering to himself, he cast another spell, then continued circling Minerva. A moment later, the door opened and Rabastan Lestrange entered, slamming the door quickly behind him.

'What seems to be the problem, Jugson?' he asked.

'She resists my curses,' Jugson whined, 'even without her wand. I need help to retrieve the information.'

'And I see that you have resorted to crude Muggle torture,' Rabastan frowned. 'Really, Jugson, have a little class. Perhaps I should show you how it's done.'

Minerva prepared her shield charm again, and Rabastan fired his curse at her. It was even more difficult this time to keep the shield up, but she managed it.

'Curse you, you Mudblood bitch!' Rabastan cried.

There was a loud crack. Rabastan and Jugson gasped and fell to the ground - Lord Voldemort had appeared in the room.

'How is the interrogation progressing?' he asked, sweeping across the room to inspect Minerva. He grabbed her chin and turned her head to see her injuries.

'Oh, Jugson, is this really the best you can do? Do you really think Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor, will be persuaded by mere cuts and bruises?'

He rubbed a thumb across Minerva's swollen lip, then thoughtfully tasted the blood that came away. 'No, I think it will take something altogether more sophisticated to persuade Minerva to spill her secrets. Something, perhaps, more like this...'

She didn't hear an incantation, and she wasn't sure she had even seen his wand move. But suddenly it was as though her whole body was on fire - she could feel the flames licking at her face, her hair being scorched away, her skin bubbling in the heat. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't see. All she could hear was the roaring of the flames and her own screams.

She didn't know how long it went on, but when she came to herself she was curled up in a ball, her face wet with tears. She sat up a little and stared at her hands - they were whole, they weren't burned at all. It didn't seem possible. Even now her skin felt hot and itchy, as though she was covered in blisters.

'How are you feeling, my dear?' Voldemort asked.

She stared at him, still catching her breath.

'It wasn't nice, was it? You wanted to die, didn't you? You know, I can do this all day.'

And, almost lazily, he directed his wand at her again and cast the same curse. It lasted only a few seconds this time, and once it was done Voldemort nodded at Rabastan, who spoke.

'Where is the Book?'

She wouldn't say anything. She couldn't. She had promised Dumbledore. So she just shook her head.

'Where have you hidden it? Does Dumbledore have it?'

Another glare was the only answer.

Voldemort tried a different curse this time. This one made it feel as though metal spikes were being driven into her. The next convinced her that she had been plunged deep into a heap of ice, so cold that it burned. Next it seemed as though her skin was being torn away. In the times between curses, Rabastan demanded from her the information which she could not give.

Voldemort apparently had no shortage of imaginative spells for occasions such as this, and it was some time before he released her, leaving her shuddering and whimpering on the cold floor as he went to confer with his Death Eaters.

Jugson left the room for a moment - Minerva saw her opportunity to escape as he opened the door wide, but she could not summon up the energy to transform and dart through the opening. Nor could she a few moments later, when Jugson returned, carrying a small bottle of clear liquid. Veritaserum.

Horrified, Minerva began to struggle, but Voldemort cursed her and she could not move an inch. Jugson approached her, leering. He forced open her mouth and tipped the whole bottle down her throat. She gagged, but she couldn't help swallowing. She resisted for a moment, but there was no stopping it. A small voice inside her cried out in dismay as she told Voldemort everything she knew.

* * *

Minerva woke with a jolt, and although she had no way of knowing for sure, she felt that not very much time had passed. What had happened? She remembered Voldemort coming in, remembered the curses... there had been something else. What was it?

She jerked upright as she remembered the Veritaserum, her hands, still chained to the floor, flying to her mouth. She shook her head in alarm. Now she absolutely had to escape, to warn Dumbledore that they knew everything. She looked wildly about the room - there still seemed no sensible method of escape. There was still just the one door, several feet away from her and heavy and locked to boot. She could get out of the chains if only she could transform, but then there was still the problem of getting out of the room itself. Debilitated as she was, she might not be able to transform more than once if it became necessary.

She agonised over the decision for some time, but when Jugson re-entered she acted almost without conscious thought, transforming as she heard the key click in the lock, flying across the room as the door opened slightly, and darting between Jugson's ankles before he had the chance to close it again. Even as she had dismissed it as too dangerous, she had realised in that instant that there was no other way. She raced along the corridor in which she found herself, searching for exits. Jugson ran behind her, yelling and cursing. She ran and ran, and there seemed no way out - the whole place was a maze. Up and down corridors that all looked alike, up stairs, past dozens and dozens of doors. Jugson was catching up. Even as a cat she was too slow. Suddenly, she saw opportunity in the form of an open window ahead. It was too high up for her to see where it led, or even to discover what floor she was on, but the other option was capture, and so she leapt onto the sill and outward. It was the fifth floor. She landed on her paws on a scrubby piece of lawn, shook herself, and carried on running. It looked as though she was in a garden - unkempt flower beds flashed past on either side of her. There were pains shooting up her legs now, but she couldn't stop yet. She was afraid to even look back for signs of pursuit. After a while, the gardens gave way to open countryside. Straining to hear, she couldn't detect any pursuit, but still she wasn't sure. She kept running.

There was a crack. Someone apparated immediately in front of her, bent down, and scooped her up. Horrified, she scratched and writhed, but they didn't let go. They were shouting something.

'Professor McGonagall! MINERVA! It's me, Remus! I've been sent to find you!'

The cat in his outstretched hands stopped struggling and became Minerva McGonagall again. She stood in front of him, swaying slightly.

'Minerva, we have to get you to St. Mungo's...' he said, eyes wide at her dishevelled appearance.

'No! You have to take me to Dumbledore...'

'Are you sure that...'

'Right now, Remus Lupin!'

The urgency in her tone persuaded him, and he took hold of her arm to perform a side-along apparition. They appeared moments later at the gates of Hogwarts. Minerva started to run towards the castle, but after a few steps she was forced to concede defeat and let Remus support her as they walked the rest of the way. As they went, he sent a Patronus to the castle with a message for Dumbledore.

Dumbledore met them at the main entrance. He took one look at Minerva, bloodied, pale and shaking, and picked her up and carried her to his office, ignoring her protests.

'Tell me,' he said, once he had put her down carefully on the couch by his fireplace.

'Albus... oh God, I told him everything...' she whispered.

'Everything?'

'He wanted to know something that was in the Book, and whatever it was, I told him! I should never have looked inside, but I just wanted to see, and I must have seen whatever it was he wanted to know...'

Dumbledore hurried to his desk, scribbled two hasty notes, and handed them to Remus.

'Remus, take these immediately to the Potters and the Longbottoms, then come straight back. As quickly as you can, Remus!'

Remus nodded, took the notes, then ran out of the office.

'The Potters and the Longbottoms?' Minerva asked. 'Why them, Albus? What was it he wanted to know?'

'The Potters and Longbottoms are in grave danger now,' he said, sitting heavily beside her on the couch. 'You did well to escape, Minerva. Now we are warned, and we can be prepared.'

'Prepared for what?'

'I think perhaps I shall tell you the details later. For now, I am taking you to the hospital wing.'

And he scooped her up again, as if she was no weight at all, and this time she didn't protest, but meekly let herself be carried. Everything would be alright now, Albus knew everything. Albus would do what was necessary. She let her head slump against his chest. By the time they entered the hospital wing, she had lost consciousness.

* * *

Minerva jolted into wakefulness in a bed in the hospital wing, feeling as though she had just closed her eyes and then opened them again, to see a completely different scene. Still, she felt refreshed and surprisingly well. Poppy had done her usual excellent job, and all she felt was a dull ache in her temples and a slight sluggishness in her limbs.

'Oh, you're awake!' cried Poppy, rushing over from her office. 'How do you feel, dear?'

'Much better, thank you. How long was I asleep?'

'Almost two days,' Poppy replied, helping Minerva to sit up against a pile of pillows.

'Two days?'

'Well, dear, you looked dreadful when you came in. Dumbledore told me some of what happened. You were awfully brave, Minerva...'

'Is Dumbledore here? I need to talk to him. Are the Potters and the Longbottoms alright? He never explained to me exactly what...'

'Dumbledore said he'd look in on you this evening. I think he should be the one to tell you what's been happening.'

'But...'

'Now, you must be hungry. What shall I get for you?'

Minerva let Poppy fuss over her and take care of her, but all day she waited on tenterhooks for Dumbledore's visit. He came in as it was getting dark, looking weary.

'Albus, are you alright?' she asked immediately.

'I came to ask you the same question,' he said, with a little laugh. 'You look much improved, Minerva.'

'I feel fine,' she said. 'What's been going on? Are the Potters and the Longbottoms safe?'

'Yes, they are safe, for the time being,' he said, 'thanks to your actions.'

'If I hadn't told him...'

'Minerva, I won't have you blaming yourself. Nobody could have resisted Veritaserum. If it wasn't for you we wouldn't have known that he knew. You have saved the Potters and the Longbottoms. They are alive now because of you, and a great deal safer than we are right now. Do you see, Minerva?'

She nodded, feeling reassured. He seemed reluctant to tell her anything further about the affair, and though he stayed for a while, they only talked about school business. He was teaching her classes, she discovered. The thought made her laugh - none of her students had experienced his unorthodox teaching style, so different to hers. They were probably enjoying the change.

* * *

Minerva stayed in the hospital for two more days before returning to her own rooms. Two days after that, she began to teach again, but it was Halloween, and she could barely get her students to concentrate. Since they were all so excited about the feast that evening, and she was feeling unusually benevolent due to the fact that all of her classes had clubbed together to buy her some flowers, she indulged their high spirits and taught them some silly, noisy spells instead of following her lesson plan. It was plain that they could hardly believe their luck.

The fun continued late into the night - after the feast, the Gryffindor students had a party in the Common Room. Minerva had been too tired to attend the feast, and although the revelry woke her up, she didn't begrudge them their fun. Goodness knew they needed some, these days.

It wasn't until the next day that she heard. Lord Voldemort was gone. The Potters were dead. There was some connection between the two events, but nobody was entirely sure what had happened. Hagrid told her that Dumbledore would be in Surrey that night, and so she went. She had to hear from Dumbledore himself what was going on. She refused to believe anything until she heard it from him.

And so she sat on a wall all day, in her cat form, waiting and waiting to hear what was going on. She watched the Muggles go about their business, and worried about the Potters. Was it true that they were dead? What about poor little Harry? She could hardly bear to think of it. As she sat, she couldn't help wondering if, had she not sent Lord Voldemort after the Potters in the first place, all this would have happened.

She wanted to ask Dumbledore when he arrived, late that night, but by the time he had told her what had happened the thought was driven from her mind by the arrival of Hagrid with little Harry. So horrified was she at the thought of leaving the boy with the Muggles that she forgot her own worry until later.

It was her fault that James and Lily had died, there could be no doubt about it. But Dumbledore would not hear it, and there was nobody else to talk to about it. So, as the years went by in relative peace and stability, Minerva tried to forget it, and sometimes almost succeeded.

* * *

Minerva woke suddenly from the dream, and looked wildly around her for a moment, unsure where she was. The room seemed much too hot. With shaking hands, she poured herself a glass of water from the jug on the bedside table. That dream was one she hadn't had for some time. It had returned, for a while, when Harry started Hogwarts, but seeing him so happy and thriving had alleviated her guilt, just a little, and she only dreamed it only once or twice a year now.

But now Sirius was dead, as well as James and Lily, and it was her fault again. She should have horrible dreams, of torture and betrayal and despair. She deserved it, for what she had done.

She couldn't sleep, not now. She lay awake, even though it was not even four in the morning. It was several minutes before she noticed the dark shape that had not been in the room earlier.

'You've spotted me,' it said.

'Albus, how long have you been in here?'

She sat up, drying her eyes. He came forward with an apologetic shrug.

'You were so upset earlier, I wanted to come back and make sure you would be alright.'

'That's very kind, but I'm fine.'

'You're not. I was watching you sleep.'

'Yes, well. I'm not sure I feel entirely comfortable with that...'

'You were dreaming about it. What happened sixteen years ago.'

She stared at him. She had known he was a powerful Legilimens, but seeing her dreams? It was something she had only heard of in stories.

'What if I was?' she said, regaining her composure a little.

'I want you to stop, Minerva. I want you to stop blaming yourself.'

'How can I, when they would still be alive if it wasn't for me?'

He sighed. 'Minerva, perhaps that's true, and perhaps it isn't. But you never meant for them to die. You protected the Book, and you protected Hogwarts, to the best of your ability. You did everything you could. You did more than most would have. Everything you did was in an attempt to protect your friends and fight evil.'

'But it didn't make any difference!'

'Of course it did! Do you think that Voldemort wouldn't have found out about the Potters some other way, if he hadn't found out from you? Because you knew that he knew, we were able to hide them. It wasn't your betrayal that got them killed, it was Peter's. It may even be because you knew that Harry is still alive and safe today.'

'Well...'

'Everything you do makes a difference, Minerva. Because you are fighting for what is right. Even if sometimes you are thwarted or your plans fail, you never stop fighting. You never stop believing that things can get better. Minerva, there will always be evil in this world. And we won't always be able to win against it. All we can do is try our very best. And that is what you always do.'

'It's really that simple, is it?' she asked, but she was smiling a little.

'It really is that simple. And that's why you're my second-in-command, Minerva, because nobody will try harder than you for our cause. And nobody is more fervent, or righteous, or courageous than you. I trust you, and I know you will do what's right.'

'Albus... I'm touched...'

'But do you understand? Why you can't blame yourself for the misdeeds of others? Why you must remain strong, and steadfast? I want you to tell me, Minerva, that you won't think that way any more.'

She squeezed his hand, and smiled at him. 'I will try my best.'

'And that's all I need to know.'

* * *

A few days later, Minerva McGonagall stood at the bottom of the steps of Hogwarts Castle.. She took a deep breath of fresh air and looked around her. It was a beautiful day, and there were students having fun all over the grounds. She couldn't help a delighted laugh as she watched some second-years run shrieking down towards the lake. Everything was alright, for now.

But there seemed to be some sort of disturbance going on just inside the entrance. She could hear Potter, and Malfoy, and the deeper tones of Professor Snape. With a grin, she started up the stone steps to intervene. No doubt Professor Snape would be glad of some extra authority.

It was nice to be back.