The McGonagall Chronicles

The McGonagall Chronicles

Prologue: The Waiting Game

"It's not fair, you know," she remarked, narrowing her eyes in frustration.

"Oh, I'd say it is. I've paid me dues," Malcolm laughed as he gathered his broom and cloak.

"I can do as much as you! I can help you and mum! It's not fair that you go and I don't. They need me!" Minerva argued, her face drawn into tight lines.

"You've got to know your place, Minerva. Until you're seventeen, you must remain at Hogwarts. Those are the rules," Malcolm replied with a firm countenance.

Minerva watched her brother's cool attitude. Why wasn't he bursting with emotion? Why wasn't he showing something like passion or fear or...something? His calmness made her even more aggravated. He was almost as bad as Professor Dumbledore, who always looked tranquil and pleased, like nothing was ever wrong. Well something had been wrong, for the past 16 years. She had survived an 11 year depression, years of bleakness and dread of an unknown terror. Then the horror materialized as Grindelwald, who controlled beasts and men, and slaughtered those who he couldn't dominate. She felt burdened and confused. She knew what it was to fight--but not what it felt like to be boggled down in trite rules.

"Fine! Fine!" Minerva finally thundered, marching to her school trunk. She tried to make as much noise as possible as she lugged it to the door.

"They need you at Hogwarts more than ever, Minerva. You're a prefect; you're the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. You're the whipping boy in potions. You are very important there. Especially to Dumbledore."

Minerva blinked slowly. Hogwarts meant nothing when people like her brother and her mother were fighting and dying. But at the same time Dumbledore did mean something to her, although she wasn't quite sure in what way. Something about disappointing him made her clench inside. For no other reason, she had to be her best this year. She had to prove that she could wage war as her namesake did.

"We're late!" She exclaimed, hauling her trunk out the door with a larger sense of purpose.

At that exact moment, she tripped on the door step, hurtling face first into a puddle of sloppy soil. After issuing an assortment of obscenities, Minerva realized that her sixth year would be more trying than any other.

Chapter I: The Vow

It was quite difficult to run when you were hauling a broom, an owl, a cat, a trunk and a cauldron. Minerva panted in relief as she finally saw platform 9 ¾. Malcolm had left her to fend for herself, and she was doing a horrible job of it.

Her pace quickened as she saw Rubeus Hagrid running through the station. As enormous as he was, he actually looked quite graceful running and was making quite a bit more progress than she.

"Ello Minnie!" Hagrid thundered, a huge grin lightening his face.

"Good morning Hagrid! Ho late are we?" Minerva asked the third year briskly as she hugged him quickly then proceeded to burst through crowds of muggles.

"I don't rightly know. You see, I had to pick up somethin' special at Hog's Head...you'll never guess what it 'tis!"

"Whatever it is, I bet it has lots of teeth, and claws and is quite a bit more exciting than him," Minerva huffed as she looked at her old cat, Byzantium, who was about as interesting as Professor Binns. Somehow, the cat managed to sleep through the noise of the world's busiest train station.

"Ladies first," Hagrid motioned as Minerva stood in front of the platform.

"Thank you Hagrid, and you must tell me more about this..." Minerva's voice was lost to Hagrid as she ripped through the barrier.

"Because honestly, nothing can top that winged cobra you had last year and I'm sure that ..." Minerva broke off her sentence as she and Hagrid stood aghast.

Shock and outrage roared through them as the Hogwarts' Express was rolling away from the platform, building up speed as pushed out of the station.

"Wait! Wait! Wait!" Minerva screeched, abandoning her things, trying to catch up with the train. Hagrid too was running, in fact, passing her as they tried to attract the attention of someone on board.

She looked desperately into the windows, hoping to see someone. And she did see someone. Thaddeus Malfoy. Head Boy of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His tilted grey eyes seem to be laughing and a small smirk played upon his lips.

"So sorry," He mouthed as the train raced away.

"When we get back to school I'm going to hex him like HELL!" Minerva fumed, pacing the now deserted platform with Hagrid at her side.

"Well, that's just it Minnie. How will we be getting' back to school?" Hagrid asked, looking at all of their things scattered on the ground from when they had made their mad effort to catch the train.

At least Byzantium can sleep through all of this, Minerva thought with a grin.

"I suppose we'll just have to fly," She replied, picking up her broom with a loving affection. After all, hadn't Madam Skyes made a trip all the way across the Atlantic in 1915? And there had been large leaps in flight technology since then, Minerva reasoned.

"What about all of our things? How will they get there? And...I can't, I can't really fly," Hagrid mumbled, looking at his feet.

"Well, we can transfigure all of our things into...hmm, marbles!" Minerva exclaimed, pointing her wand at their pile of things, avoiding the animals. Animals tended to be tricky, and as much as Byzantium irked her, he didn't deserve to be a marble, or something else entirely if she lost her focus.

"Reducio marmoreus!"

"Reducio marmoreus !" Hagrid aided by transfiguring the other pile. They turned out a bit misshaped, in fact it seemed that on of his sprouted a tusk.

He's quite good for so young, Minerva thought with pride. Gryffindors were the best in emergencies.

A set of large marbles appeared, rolling on the ground. Momentary chaos ensured as she and Hagrid gathered all the marbles, very resourceful and adaptable.

"You'll just have to hold whatever sort of remarkable creature is in that box and Byzantium and I'll take Balderdash," Minerva instructed, carrying her owl.

"But I can't fly, you should go on without me," Hagrid murmured, his hands fumbling with the marbles in his pocket.

"Hagrid, we're in this together. And anyway, you can't be that bad. I've always thought you'd make an excellent beater."

Minerva mounted the broom and motioned for him to ride behind her. It was going to be very awkward with two people on such a small broom, not to mention all the animal. But time was of the essence and she was anxious to catch up with the train.

"Don't say I didn't warn ye," Hagrid frowned as they wobbly ascended.

Minerva wished that she had taken Hagrid's warning a bit more seriously. The flight had been a disaster, not only did Hagrid and the animals make the broom sluggish and difficult to maneuver, but also a normally sunny September morning suddenly turned extremely chill. Cold sleet began to pelt them as they tried to follow the Hogwart's Express. The wind drove so hard that she was rendered speechless; her body felt oddly numb as she concentrated on keeping them from crashing. She could feel that Hagrid was doing the same, one of his hands clenched to her robe.

Soon the train disappeared from sight and they were left following the tracks.

"Do ye think that Professor Dumbledore will be angry with us?" Hagrid managed to stutter.

Minerva felt a spring of panic. She had devised this crazy plan without thinking about the consequences--loss of her prefect badge, suspension, even expulsion. Plus she had convinced a doubtful third year to accompany her. In the first few hours of her sixth year, she had managed to completely disregard any sort of reasonable thought process.

"Hagrid, this is my fault; I'm the one who talked you into this. When we get to Hogwarts, I'll make sure Dumbledore knows that I did all of this, I swear. I swear you won't get into any trouble, I swear," Minerva promised, her eyes narrowed. The worst Dumbledore and Dippet could do was to expel her. She shouldn't be afraid. If they expelled her, she could join Malcolm and her mother. Then she could actually be doing some real magic. Not just turning teapots into tortoises. Or vice versa.

Would they expel me? Would Dumbledore expel me? Minerva shuddered, the sleet pelting like hail and her body felt more dull than ever.

"No, no, Minnie. We are in this together; you, me, Byzantium, Balderdash, and me little surprise," Hagrid reassured, although his voice wavered slighltly.

"And look, I can see 'ogwarts right up there!" He added, freeing his hand from her robe to give her a nudge.

Just by looking at the lighted castle Minerva felt warmer. The lake's surface was dimpled by hail just as they were, but Hogwarts looked as welcoming as ever. Approaching it made her long to touch the ground again; her hands were so swollen at this point that she was guiding the broom with her forearms.

Minerva fell weakly as they touched down, her legs failing her momentarily. Hagrid helped her up soundlessly. Minerva was impressed by his endurance and silent strength. Poor Hagrid. Please don't punish him, Minerva thought desperately.

They slowly made their way through the glowing doors. The halls were empty and silent. The only sound was the small patter of rain dripping from their robes and he chattering of their teeth. Home free.

"I think we..." Minerva started, then snapped her mouth shut as she saw Hagrid focusing on something behind her.

It was Professor Dumbledore's over-fed red phoenix, Fawkes, looking as content and magnificent as ever. He's smirking, Minerva thought grimly.

"If you rat on us you silly bird, I swear I'll split roast you! Wait, even better..." Minerva was once again cut off mid-curse as Hagrid clenched her arm. She gulped and turned around.

Professor Dumbledore, the head of Gryffindor House, stood before them; Fawkes flying to his shoulder. They both looked vaguely amused. Minerva gulped again. Professor Dumbledore was the most frustrating teacher at Hogwarts. Probably because she couldn't understand how he could be so warm all the time. To everyone. That frustrated her the most. She was his best transfiguration student, his Gryffindor, yet he treated her the same as Thaddeus Malfoy, who was the most despicable Slytherin at Hogwarts.

"I realize you both are quite exhausted, but I would enjoy hearing of your adventure," Dumbledore smiled pleasantly and began to walk. Hagrid and Minerva exchanged a look of fear as the followed him to an uncertain fate.

I suppose threatening Fawkes was in poor taste Probably didn't help our case...

The walk to Dumbledore's office had been wordless.

"Take a seat, please."

Minerva sat down primly, her face set. They had done nothing wrong, not really, especially not Hagrid. She had to look like she was in control of the situation. Even if her her drenched body was causing her teeth to chatter loudly. She hoped she looked more dignified than she felt. Posture, Minerva reminded herself, trying to stretch her scrawny form as erect as possible.

"Adaresco," Dumbledore flicked lightly, and in a flash they were dry and warm, as if they had never been cold in their lives.

"I hope that is a bit better," Dumbledore continued to beam, his face revealing nothing but the fact that he was the most friendly, wonderful man on earth. Minerva felt herself double-over with boiling impatience.

"I must insist that Hagrid be dismissed from this discussion. He's only in the third year; I convinced him as a prefect to follow my plan, so I am the responsible party. So you must excuse him," Minerva stated firmly, sticking her chin out and clasping her hands together.

"If that is your wish, Miss McGonagall, then Hagrid, you may go join the others in the Grand Hall," Dumbledore motioned to the door.

"I'd rather stay here, if ye please."

"I'm very sorry, Hagrid, but you would better serve Miss McGonagall if you avoided this," Dumbledore spoke gently, his voice sounded so soft and comforting. It's like a lullaby, Minerva thought with frown. Dumbledore could convince you to kill your own mother.

Hagrid looked at Minerva miserably, but she simply nodded to the door. He huffed and made an unhappy exit.

"What you did was very foolish," Dumbledore spoke in a tone that Minerva had never heard before. It felt like the sleet, with the warning of hail. It had a cold quality with an edge of warning.

"I could see no other option," Minerva replied, holding her ground. She may not have Dumbledore's ability for speech and subtle meanings, but she was angry, tired and itching for a fight. She was losing what little control she possessed very quickly. Fighting with PROFESSOR Dumbledore may not be your best bet, a voice rebuked warily within.

"I believe there are many other options that wouldn't have been so risky to the wizarding world, not to mention your lives," Dumbledore countered, his voice unwavering, calm and completely controlled. At that moment Minerva hated him.

"Well, honestly!" Minerva fumed. "Since I'm not a Professor of Transfiguration at Hogwarts so my 'options' were somewhat limited by the fact that I'm only a sixth year student; one who I might add was very desperate at the time since a certain Head Boy kindly ignored us and the dependable Hogwarts left two screaming children behind!" Minerva went off on a tangent, her voice wavering as she was becoming more and more unnerved by Dumbledore's placid face.

"But you are a prefect, and with that comes the responsibility of considering all consequences for your actions, especially those that could risk the life of a fellow..."

"Well then 'un-make' me a prefect! Just tell me what I have to do to make this right!" Minerva responded furiously, her heart dropping at her own words. I've worked so hard for that stupid badge, a voice miserably whispered. Soon a confusing clash of voices echoed in her mind--What's a prefect to a Quidditch Captain? You never were really meant to be a prefect; you aren't cool-headed, you don't have any restraint. But Quidditch, you're good at that. People respect you for that. That should be enough. A steadier voice contradicted-- Dumbledore thought you were something more than a ruddy good chaser when he gave you that badge. He sees something more in you than you see in yourself.

Minerva hoped she didn't look as uncertain and as sociopathic as she felt.

"Well, you will be serving a month of detention as well as some extra assignments and duties aiding myself and Headmaster Dippet," Dumbledore began. Minerva cringed. Dippet was her least favorite person at Hogwarts. His creaky voice was like a tissue rubbing carpet, a scratchy horrific sound.

"But I will not 'un-make' you a prefect. You were selected because you have demonstrated certain desirable abilities and until those are absent, your badge will be present."

Desirable. Desirable. Did he say I was desirable? Minerva felt herself staring in awe at a pair of twinkling blue eyes.

"I believe I should bench you for the first Quidditch game of the season," Dumbledore started, but Minerva jumped out of her seat before he could continue, her expression one of pure agony.

"But," Dumbledore chuckled, his eyes sparkling, "if I were to suspend you for a game against Slytherin, poor Fawkes or myself could become a target for physical violence." Fawkes looked smugly at Minerva as Dumbledore stroked him affectionately. I thought that stupid bird was supposed to like Gryffindors, not antagonize them, Minerva thought, remembering her very first day to class. She had come in quite late, but luckily only Fawkes and her peers were in the room. No Dumbledore. Minerva had congratulated herself on her good luck, but couldn't shake the feeling that Fawkes was leering at her. When the class ended, Fawkes followed her out the hall with a small note that read: Detention 8:00 - Fawkes is a bit of a tattletale -Dumbledore. It seemed that every time she turned around Fawkes tried to get her to serve detention with Dumbledore.

From that moment on, Minerva decided that if she could be any animal on earth, it would be a huge lion, so she could devour that bird in one bite. Or at least some sort of animal that a phoenix was afraid of, but of course, when you never really died, there probably wasn't much to fear.

"No, no, we wouldn't want anything to happen to Fawkes," Minerva nodded wirily.

"I believe the feast is almost over, so the first years will be needing you. Hogwarts will need your help this year," Dumbledore stated, indicating mildly that this was the end of their conversation.

Minerva didn't know what to say. "Thank you" didn't seem like enough, and a hug seemed a bit too immature. She never knew where she stood with Dumbledore--was she still a child in his eyes; the same small little girl with the big mouth? His face never revealed a thing besides cheerfulness; she was certain that there had to be much more behind the blue eyes than his fondness for lemon drops.

"I'm sorry for disappointing you, Professor," Minerva spoke earnestly, rising from her seat, "but I promise that I'll always help you."

Minerva stood solemnly and briefly caught his eyes. They were no longer twinkling, but were dark and sober. Did I say too much?

Minerva darted out the door, her whole body feeling like an awkward mess.

"Minerva! We heard about what happen...the whole place in uproar. Course the Slytherins' are right pleased, hope you got expelled, and Madam Skyes is twittering in pride, but what did Dumbledore say?" Clifford Weasley asked, his whole face animated with anticipation as they hugged quickly. Darius Longbottom stood at his side, his sandy blonde hair accentuating the handsomeness of his face.

"Well, I've got quite a bit of detention, but I'm still a prefect, and I can still play Quidditch, so everything turned out quite well, I'd say," Minerva shrugged, reaching for three drumsticks as she walked to the first years with Darius and Clifford.

"Hagrid gave us quite a scare, says that he heard you arguing with Dumbledore," Darius remarked with a curious stare.

"Where is Hagrid? Oh, with the third years I suppose," Minerva responded, her attention focused on consuming the chicken before they reached the nervous group of eleven year olds. Plus, she wanted to avoid the topic of her odd sort of encounter with Dumbledore.

"Well, I'll leave you two to your duties, but happy to still have you around," Darius laughed, nudging Minerva, almost a little to roughly.

Minerva smiled, her face puffed with chicken. Darius was a good beater, but it sometimes made him a little more aggressive than most.

Clifford and Minerva began to lead the group of rowdy eleven year olds to the Gryffindor, although the moaning of a Hufflepuff girl echoed above most of their noise. Minerva's s growling stomach added to the commotion.

"I'm going to hunt up some more food," Minerva whispered to Clifford as soon as they had sorted out the various complaints and fears of the first years. She was still working on her third drumstick.

"Go to it, I'll stay and watch the little monsters. I'm used to it, watching after Arthur and all. He's quite a wanker," Clifford remarked as Minerva started down the hall. It was quiet except for her munching on chicken and the occasional "hello" of the portraits.

At the end of the stairs Minerva reached a very blonde obstacle in her quest for sustenance.

"How can you be a prefect when you can't stop stuffing your face? But I suppose I shouldn't expect too much of a girl who nearly kills a third year, then somehow manages not to get expelled thanks to a certain male professor. Quite extraordinary, eh?" Thaddeus Malfoy scoffed, blocking her path.

"You're disgusting," Minerva spat, remembering his triumphant face as the train roared from the station. "Some people may be fooled by the fact that you make good grades, but you've got nothing except a horrible personality. You are a nasty, inferior sort of person," Minerva hissed.

"In your little evaluation, your forgot to mention that I have stunning good looks, vast wealth and a name that people respect. Some say that you are the one with a 'horrible personality.' I've heard you're quite loud and impatient, rather obnoxious qualities. The Ravenclaws' can't stand you. You lack a sort of control, especially around food. Makes me wonder how you manage to stay so scrawny, you know? All those binges followed by a good bit of purging? Unattractive habit, but then you have plenty of those..."

Minerva lunged, breaking Thaddeus' line of insults. In books and movies and stories and such things, people were always there, but in the empty hall, no one was holding her back. She grabbed Thaddeus' robes and paused for a second. This isn't right, something screamed.

As she stood, her face hesitant and hand still on his robes, he slapped her, full and hard on the face, causing her neck to pop and collapse to the floor. Minerva growled, blood rushing from her mouth as she stood. Slowly she walked back towards him, nursing her mouth, trying to ignore the throbbing in her head.

Minerva punched Thaddeus Malfoy full on the nose, causing blood to burst everywhere on his creamy white face. His grey eyes almost looked black in fury as he drew his wand.

"That is QUITE enough!" a voice screeched, high pitched and frightened.

The blood continued to pour into Minerva's mouth and from Thaddeus' nose as he jumped from her, hiding the wand in a flash.

"Miss McGonagall, what is the meaning of this?"