The McGonagall Chronicles

She had to be one of the most beautiful women Minerva had ever seen. Her hair was set in two golden buns that seemed to gleam in the dimly lit halls. She was young, barely older than Minerva it seemed, yet she was wearing the robes of an adult witch. She looked vaguely familiar, but it seemed like you wouldn't forget a face that was so perfect.

"Are you a professor?" Minerva asked incredulously, her mouth gaping, half from the swelling and half from astonishment.

"I am Professor Sprout, your new instructor of Herbology. And the Head of the Hufflepuff House. I answered your question. Now please answer mine," Professor Sprout replied briskly, her wide cornflower blue eyes burning.

Minerva eyed at Thaddeus, who was trying to look more hurt than necessary. Because his skin was so ghostly, the blood seemed more dramatic, especially against the silver of his hair. Aren't we very pathetic? Thaddeus Malfoy, best Keeper Hogwarts has ever seen. Tall, muscular Thaddeus beat up by a wee girl. Simply pitiful. She won't buy it, Minerva thought with a grin.

"Well, you see, Thaddeus and I were having a bit of a disagreement, in which both parties can claim a grievance," Minerva began, searching for the most intelligent, articulate way to downplay the incident.

"Clearly, Miss McGonagall. It is also clear to me that Gryffindor will be losing a hundred points for your violence and explosive behavior, especially since you lunged for Mr. Malfoy first, unprovoked," Professor Sprout said with a resolute face fixed into emotionless beauty.

"That's not what happened!" Minerva cried indignantly as Thaddeus stifled a smirk. Minerva sputtered in shock.

"Professor Sprout, I'm not much hurt by her vicious attack; I'm willing to forgive and forget for the sake of inter-house camaraderie. I just wish there was something that could be done about her violent nature...it seems so unfitting of a prefect..." Thaddeus spoke so smoothly that Minerva was almost convinced of his integrity.

"I will certainly have a talk with Albus, although I'm sure he's had his hands full with you this evening. Perhaps I'll leave the punishment up to the Head Boy," Professor Sprout smiled gleefully, her round cheeks glowing merrily.

"Thank you for your trust," Thaddeus bowed slightly, his silver eyes lingering on Professor Sprout a bit longer than normal. She smiled and blushed deeper, her eyes starry as she strode away.

Minerva suddenly realized where she knew her from...it was Pomona. Pomona Sprout! She had been the Head Girl when Minerva was in her second year, Miss. Broomsticks too. Minerva also recalled a wonderful, nasty rumor stating that Pomona had snogged Headmaster Dippet in the Greenhouse...multiple times. Minerva hoped that it was true. Or maybe it would be better if it wasn't...after all, she's quiet young to be a professor here. A little too young. Perhaps they're still going at it? Best not to make an enemy out of someone who was snogging the Headmaster. She's certainly disgusting.

"I can't ban you from playing Quidditch, and I certainly don't want to, for we're going to beat Gryffindor with you playing your best game," Thaddeus began, his head raised proudly. "But I will be confiscating your broomstick until the day of the game. Accio Tricky Stick!"

"WHAT?" Minerva screamed, watching her broomstick buzz into Thaddeus' hands. The Tricky Stick was no ordinary broom--it was special. It was smaller than most brooms; it had been designed for dives and spins. It was her best asset as a chaser because no one else could ride it. Thaddeus knew that too. "How is taking my broom away going to prevent me from punching you again?" Minerva demanded, her hands balling into fists again.

"Why? Because I'll snap it in two. Obviously."

Minerva was about to respond when someone came roaring through the halls. I don't think I can stand anything more today. I give up...

"He's taken Drumstrang! The Mors Kripo is occupying Drumstrang!" Alphrad Black shouted to them, his dark hair flying and his normally mischievous grin turned upside down. His green tie flew into his face as he came to a halt, nearly breathless.

Minerva stood silent, her body frozen. Mors Kripo was the name for the Dark Patrol, the greatest wizards in the world, great in all things, particularly fear. They had come from the East on thestrals, cloaked in black, eager to hand out punishment and serve him--Grindelwald. He had left the Ministry of Magic without a Minister, and created a new "Council." The Dark Council, whose members were more powerful and frightening than normal ministry employees: Dementors, Centaurs, Giants, Vampires, Werewolves, Ghosts, Goblins and Trolls. But above them all stood Grindelwald. And now he had Drumstrang.

"Where are the students?" Minerva asked, here voice taut like her body.

"They're there. Hostages...he's conquered the Northern Ministry. The Muggles have started too! They feel it...even if they don't know it! They feel the unease in the air; they're acting on his rolling power! The Muggles swore only 25 years ago that they'd never go to war again, but they don't know how to fight the intensity of Grindelwald; they don't even understand why it's going so quickly," Alphard panted, his words coming out in unorganized jumbles, but Minerva knew what he was trying to convey.

The dark magic was spreading like syrup on ice cream, coating the continent with discontent and fury. Muggles who were normally sensible and cautious, especially after creating a World War only 25 years prior, now fought amongst themselves, unable to resist the dark urges that flew in the air. It was like a mirror...or more like looking into a rippling lake. The wizards were clear and precise; their actions calculated and with purpose, while the Muggles were the chaotic reflection, not knowing how to stop the ripple of terror.

"I have to get back to my tower," Minerva said with urgency, giving a lingering gaze at Tricky Stick. Thaddeus simply nodded, his face devoid of any emotion; he was the perfect epitome of control, the perfect Head Boy. They parted, Minerva running up the stairs, wondering if the Gryffindors knew what had happened.

The fat lady was absent from her normal station; probably engaging in conversation with her ratty friend Violet, Minerva thought with annoyance. Portraits had a duty and it wasn't right to just desert their post when something came along. Rather unsafe.

"They say Drumstrang will be holding more than students soon," a deep voice echoed as Minerva entered the common room. Thankfully, it was only upper-level students who were still awake. Clifford was pacing by the fire, Darius was following suit, Agatha and Algie Stuart were sitting on the floor, their eyes trained to the fire, nervous energy bouncing between them. Billius Weasley, the eldest Weasley, was constantly ruffling his hair with anxious hands. Alastor Moody was the only one who looked unfazed.

"They say he's changing the students to vampires," Alastor continued, pulling out a large flask from his pocket.

"You won't be drinking now, Alastor Moody! Put that firewhiskey away. I'm sure you've had quite enough already, judging by your voice," Minerva scolded, everyone suddenly noticing her presence. Clifford came beside her, patting her lightly.

"You've heard then, Minnie? And I'll do whatever I please, thank you very much," Alastor said after he took a long swig from his flask. Minerva muttered something under her breath and sat down beside him crossly.

"I've heard that the Mors Kripo took Drumstrang, but that's about it. And that the Muggle situation has escalated," Minerva replied.

"Grindelwald took the Northern Ministry, the dragon outpost and the Gringotts' northern catacombs. He controls all the dragons of the North. Fire war...he's going to use them on us," Billius whispered, his face filled with rage.

"And the children," Agatha added, her voice hard as stone, "the Mors Kripo is turning them all into vampires and werewolves. Vampires certainly, for he wants the children to bring us death...who would kill something that looks like a child of eleven or twelve? Vampires..."

Minerva felt as if she were going to vomit. The children as vampires...she could imagine what fun he was having with the girls and boys of sixteen and seventeen. Grindelwald had no use for the students, except to devastate their families. The majority couldn't fight him, too young and Drumstrang had a horrible reputation for teaching only theory in the most important of subjects.

"Who told you all of this?" Minerva asked, suddenly wondering how Hogwarts was receiving all of this information, especially since schools of wizardry were very secretive.

"A most unlikely team," Darius chuckled. "A house elf and Mundungus Fletcher."

"What? Here?" Minerva exclaimed. And I thought we were rid of him last year! Especially after he took everything he could fit into a shrinking sack, Minerva thought with a frown. Fletcher had left Hogwarts the day he turned 17 and took half of the school's valuables with him. Of course, he had been a Gryffindor and had quite a fan following, even among the older boys like Moody.

"He's not here right now...he's trying to sell his story to the Daily Prophet," Alastor tittered, pulling out his flask. He's drunk; completely and unabashedly drunk.

"I mean, he's quite an enjoyable fellow, but his sense of morality is completely skewed. In his favor." Minerva considered, watching Alastor take another swig.

"DAMN IT WOMAN! WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY FIRE WHISKEY?" Alastor roared, steam pouring out his mouth. His face was already turning purple and crimson.

"I transfigured it," Minerva smiled proudly as Algie rolled in fits of laughter. Clifford smiled weakly, his gaze wandering back to the fire.

"Are we supposed to tell first years? As prefects, I mean?" Algie asked, recovering from his fit. His face changed from a pleasant, prankster smile into a detached expression. He was almost as good as his sister at covering his emotions. Agatha was better, especially when it came to Darius Longbottom.

"I say let's wait until morning, unless Dumbledore decides otherwise," Clifford said with resolve. He had been quiet for most the discussion, but he seemed quite definite about not waking the younger students. "What took you so long anyway, Minerva? I had to handle those poncy gits all by my lonesome? It was horrifying, to say the least."

"Oh, I got into a fight with Thaddeus, and he took my broom. Totally put the wool over Professor Sprout's eyes with something about inter-house unity. Must use that one next time. I despise that woman."

A flurry of voices rained from every direction. Minerva engaging in a fight was no surprise and her friends always had lectures prepared for the occasion.

"Don't hate her for being the most attractive woman at Hogwarts! Certainly a relief from the norm!" Darius defended his face slightly blushed. Agatha cringed slightly.

"Honestly! Not your broom!" Clifford groaned.

"Must've quite a fight...did you hit him? Hope so. Never could trust that Thaddeus...something very icy about him. Don't know why Dippet likes him so," Algie said helpfully.

"Well the sorting hat was going on about inter- house friendship and such. But he said lots of other peculiar things too. Nick acted terrified, 'course he's just as batty as the hat," Billius commented.

"I think Thaddeus is rather good looking, and he is very good at Quidditch. I've heard he's quite good at other things too..." Agatha hissed as she flounced to the girl's dorm.

Of course Agatha's remark shut everyone up remarkably well. Thaddeus Malfoy and inter-house harmony, must remember to use those more often in conversation, Minerva thought wirily.

Alastor was the first to break the stunned silence. "There's more important things now that Quidditch and broomsticks. You have to stop antagonizing Malfoy. Especially after that stunt you pulled this morning. Dumbledore is very forgiving towards you, but others aren't as good of a man as Dumbledore," Alastor criticized, his tone severe. "Dumbledore will be disappointed when he hears you fought Thaddeus, someone he helped select as Head Boy."

"Dumbledore, Dumbledore, Dumbledore..." Minerva grumbled. Can't say a word against the great saint Albus. He has more fans than Celestina Warbeck. "You and Dumbledore would make a spectacular couple, Moody, you're so devoted. Although his silly bird may be some opposition, seeing as you can't truly off your competition. It could be a ménage trios though...kinky, yes, but you like excitement..." Minerva added idly. Why are you acting so bitter towads Dumbledore? Especially after you practically pledged him your eternal loyalty, an icy voice rebounded inside.

"Shut it, Minerva. You love him just like everyone else, you're just too embarrassed to admit that you need someone like him, someone who has everything you don't...patience, knows when to hold his tongue, thinks things out. You're jealous of him too, you know, jealous of him always being better than you, always liking someone better," Moody declared, rising from his seat hotly and rising to his full height. Minerva noticed that all the "men" had bravely retreated to the loo.

"Oh, well aren't you quite the new authority on inter-personal relationships? What I feel and don't feel for people is my own business Alastor Moody! I won't go about provoking people if that's what you're trying to get at; I understand what's at stake just as well as you do. I know what it's like to fight and I do know how to survive. So don't you dare to lecture me about that!" Minerva replied fiercely.

Alastor stared at her for a long time.

Say something, Moody! Don't just stand there looking stupid and indecisive, Minerva thought in frustration. Alastor had always been the best to fight with, he was quick as her, always had something clever to say, but now he seemed awkward and wordless. Almost...tender.

"You know, you're face is going to freeze like that, Minnie," Alastor whispered, his hand briefly grazing Minerva's face. She stood frozen as his he smoothed her cheek.

"You are incredibly strong, Minerva. And I love you for that."

He lightly kissed her on the forehead and walked briskly up the stairs.

Minerva wanted to do a million things all at once. She wanted to run after him and make him explain himself. She wanted to demand that he tell her why. She wanted to slap him for being silly; he was much too young to know what love was; she was much too young. Did he say those things out of fear; fear of the war that would soon come to Hogwarts, not matter what Dumbledore did to keep it out?

Everyone was asleep by the time she got to the girls' room. Tomorrow is going to horrible.

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"So I had to dress meself up a little bit, you know, in womens' rags and look a little poncy...you know, I had to do a bit of kissin' and lovin' too, but no, wait..." Mundungus shrieked as everyone gave him bemused looks.

"You did wear a dress during that Quidditch game once," Clifford pointed out as he cut the eggs into precise bits.

Minerva wasn't as cautious with the food. She crammed toast into her mouth, followed by her eggs, which were covered in ketchup.

"That's truly disgusting," Algie muttered.

"Now wait a damn second ya little prat, I did me best, and so what if it takes me dressing up like a lady, then so be it," Mundungus said, waving a fist in front of Algie's surprised face.

"He was talking about Minerva," Clifford piped up. "She eats food by shoving it all together. It's bizarre."

"She does need to fill out a bit...specially around the arse. She looks like a titchy first year. Makes a man feel like a child molester," Mundungus considered, taking a bite of his toast.

Of course, that toast caused him to choke a second later. Especially after Minerva slapped him hard upside the head.

"Shut it Dung!" Minerva snapped as she resumed her seat. "If we're supposed to get along, there are a few guidelines I think we should agree to. The first of which is that you never speak to me. Ever."

"I was speaking to you, I was speaking to Clifford," Mundungus beamed.

Minerva was planning the next step in her plan beat Dung senseless when Darius rushed to the table.

"They've gone!" He exclaimed, somewhat breathless.

Every Gryffindor at the table turned around expectantly. Minerva eyed the crowd for Hagrid, but he seemed to have disappeared since the flight incident. Although nobody was in their usual place this morning. With good reason, since stories were spreading like wildfire about Drumstrang, Mundungus and Grindelwald. The banquet room was practically in chaos. And over course, Darius Longbottom always knew how to create a stir.

"Billius and Alastor...some other seventh years too. They're going to become aurors!"

Minerva felt jealous, furious and proud all in the same moment. I hate Alastor Moody.

"Bloody brilliant!" Clifford exclaimed.

"I hate them!" Minerva seethed. "All this talk about being cautious, obeying Dumbledore, making friends with the other houses this year...and then they fly off into the sky, jolly as can be! And without a thought to the Quidditch team!"

Darius rolled his eyes.

Clifford sighed and rubbed his forehead.

Mundungus' mouth stood open for a few moments.

"Forget the part about Quidditch. Sorry," Minerva finally muttered under her breath, cramming a sausage into her mouth. It's not like they weren't thinking about what it would do to the Quidditch team. They don't have to act so pretentious.

"Do you suppose someone's going to finally announce something?" Agatha asked, elbowing her way next to them, eyes focused on the nearly empty head table. In fact, the only two who sat there were Ogg, the groundskeeper, and Dumbledore. Who was accompanied by Fawkes. They both looked as comfortable as ever, as if they were untouched by the fact that their brother school was under siege. And that his lapdog Moody had gone to do hunt black wizards. Dumbledore and Fawkes, ever the calm and placid pair.

I hate them too, Minerva thought bitterly as a large bolt of lighting cracked in the enchanted sky above them. It was the Headmaster's signal. Sure enough, Dippet and the rest of the professors were walking to the head table with an air of purpose.

"That one has got herself quite a nice set of..." Mundungus chuckled until Minerva's icy look cut him off.

"She's repulsive," Minerva finished, wishing her eyes could shoot daggers into both Fletcher and Sprout at the same time. She decided to focus on Sprout. Apparently Dung wasn't the only one smitten with their newest Professor. Dumbledore gave her a very wide grin as she took a seat next to him. Fawkes even cooed at her and flew off Dumbledore's shoulder to showoff in front of her plate. Sprout giggled.

I wonder if it would be in bad taste to vomit all over the three of them? Minerva wondered, her stomach in somersaults. At least she can't play Quidditch. And she teaches Herbology. She's a Hufflepuff. Yes, her life is meaningless, Minerva thought firmly. But when every eye in the room seemed trained upon Sprout, it was hard to believe that Pomona Sprout would be just another teacher.

"I have some very important announcements to make," Headmaster Dippet began as another crack of lightning echoed in the grand hall.