My Soul to Keep

The train came to a slow, screeching halt, all wrenching metal and steam and loud, shrill whistle. Alastor had, in all honesty, never been happier to be departing the Hogwarts Express. He rose from his seat a bit too quickly, stumbling forward as the train jerked one final time. Donald Pritchett, who had been sitting in the opposite seat, looked mildly panicked for a moment, eyes wider than usual behind his owlish glasses.

"I'd rather appreciate it if you'd try not to crush me. We've nearly made it to the school after all and I was rather hoping to reach sixth year."

"No worries Don." Alastor steadied himself, one hand against the window. "I've impeccable balance."

"On a broom maybe," Donald allowed, still looking rather dubious as he stood up. Alastor rolled his eyes and took a half-playful swing at Donald, who dodged out of the way only to tumble back down onto the bench. Geoffery Goodchild had been attempting to retrieve his trunk from the rack and instead doubled over laughing.

"A-and you're giving Alastor a t-time for b-being c-clumsy?"

Geoffery's stutter had admittedly grown a bit less frequent over the years, but any time he spoke in a rush of either excitement or anger, Geoffery became exceedingly difficult to understand. Not that Alastor would ever have dared comment on the matter. In fact, Alastor had been known to hex or hit anyone who did dare to comment. That was, after all, how Alastor had befriended Geoffery in the first place. Recovering from his fit of laughter, Geoffery wiped his eyes and resumed the struggle with his trunk. Alastor meanwhile offered one hand to Donald, easily hauling the smaller boy to his feet.

"Surprised you're still here anyway," Donald mumbled.

Alastor was barely listening, already turned around and hauling his own trunk off the rack. The train would be emptying quickly and if he hurried, he could probably catch up with Minerva and Tiberius before they reached the carriages. Alastor liked Donald and Geoffery perfectly well, and both boys were good friends and good company. But Tiberius and Minerva held the sole honor of being Alastor's best friends. They just also happened to hold the more unfortunate honor of being Gryffindor prefects.

"You k-know, it's a heavy trunk, and s-some of us aren't exactly built like Beaters," Geoffery grumbled, crossing his arms and pointedly glaring at Alastor. Some of the effect was lost as his trunk finally tumbled down from the rack behind him, banging sharply on first the edge of the bench and then the floor. Donald shook his head, pointing his wand at his own trunk.

"Firstly, I wasn't talking to you. And secondly, we are wizards, Geoffery. Sixth years, if I might add."

Here Donald twisted his wand sharply and the trunk was levitated soundlessly to the floor. Frowning now, Geoffery retrieved his own wand and gave a half-hearted prod in the direction of his trunk. For a moment, nothing happened. Donald was just about to critique Geoffery's wand work when the trunk wobbled a bit and then fell backwards, knocking open the door. Rippling laughter and the rush of conversation poured into the compartment as more than a few students were forced to step over or around Geoffery's trunk.

"Why is it t-that it's always the m-muggleborn who's telling us to use magic? Not that I m-mean that in a b-bad w-way, mind you. S-sort of a compliment," Geoffery added hastily.

"You forget that apart from being a muggleborn, I am also a Ravenclaw and thus boundlessly intelligent," Donald said solemnly, face impressively straight. "Perhaps even the smartest in our year."

"Oh." Alastor shook his head, grinning. "Don't let Minerva hear you say that. She'll be challenging you to some sort of battle of wits."

Donald seemed to brighten at this prospect, as he tended to do when faced with some new and exciting puzzle. Alastor had not been speaking lightly, however. Knowing Minerva, she really would challenge Donald to some manner of duel. She might have all the brains of a Ravenclaw, but she was thoroughly a Gryffindor at heart. Alastor fully intended to point this fact out until Geoffery interrupted.

"T-there's another 'w-why's it always moment'," Geoffery muttered, trunk once more upright and braced against one wall so that only half the corridor happened to be blocked rather than the entire thing. "Why've y-you always got to bring Minerva into a c-conversation?"

Alastor's temper flared, quick and hot as always. He swore once or twice, mostly under his breath, felt his face go red, and raised his wand in the direction of Geoffery. The blond boy had clearly expected this reaction, already fumbling backwards through the door, never breaking eye contact.

"You know, you handled that business with Tom Riddle rather well," Donald said slowly, stepping between Alastor and Geoffery. "Surprisingly well, in fact."

That much would certainly be true, Alastor had to agree. Albert might have been his younger brother, and Albert certainly tended to get in the way, but Alastor was supposed to be looking out for him nonetheless. That meant that no one, not Tom Riddle or anyone else, laid a hand on Albert Moody unless they had some sort of death wish. Alastor had been seeing red, utterly furious as he stared down Riddle in the corridor, and really only the arrival of Donald and Geoffery had kept him from doing anything too incredibly stupid. But Riddle's mention of Minerva, his cold eyes and thin smile, had threatened to undo Alastor's tenuous self-control. Alastor did not exceptionally enjoy the thought of Minerva with any other boy, but the thought of her with Tom Riddle not only infuriated him, but also scared him more than he would ever willingly admit.

"What's your point, Don?" Alastor growled, wand still pointed at Geoffery. By now Geoffery had managed to stagger his way through the passing stream of students and trunks, knocking over someone's caged owl in the process.

"Would be a shame, after doing so well the whole way here, to get into trouble now," Donald pointed out. "Especially for getting into a fight with a friend over something like this. Minerva probably wouldn't be particularly happy."

Alastor grumbled and swore again, but did stuff his wand back into his pocket. Reaching behind him with one hand, he seized his trunk, pushing past Donald and into the hall. Geoffery stayed safely out of reach, pressed against the wall next to his trunk and waving at a passing group of Hufflepuffs.

"Best w-we get moving, or all t-the carriages will b-be taken," Geoffery said.

He pointed toward the door, smiling broadly and apparently perfectly willing to pretend nothing had happened. Alastor appreciated the effort at least.

"Suppose Tiberius and Minerva are wondering what happened to us."

"Exactly," Donald declared, sounding very pleased with himself. Alastor frowned over his shoulder at the Ravenclaw boy.

"What you on about?"

"That's what I meant earlier. When I said I was surprised you were still here. There. Hmm," Donald paused for a moment, apparently debating on the proper word to use. Enough time passed for Geoffery to nearly fall down the stairs and be saved by Alastor, who managed to catch hold of Geoffery's trunk. The catch had been rather impressive, if Alastor did say so himself.

"Y-you planning on f-finishing any time soon?" Geoffery asked, depositing his trunk in the steadily growing pile of Hogwarts luggage.

"Oh! Yes. Anyway. What I meant was, I was surprised Alastor hadn't run off to find Minerva by now," Donald declared, smiling proudly.

Alastor very nearly punched him in the face.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly...what it sounds like?" Donald replied, smile beginning to fade.

"Come o-on mate." Geoffery threw an arm over Alastor's shoulder in an effort to defuse the situation. "He's j-just having a bit o-of fun."

"Don't see what's so funny about that," Alastor grumbled, sliding his trunk into the pile and adding a kick for good measure. "Or why suddenly everyone wants to talk about Minerva."

Donald blinked a few times, looking even more owlish than usual and remaining entirely silent. Instead Geoffery, after a moment of consideration, decided to answer.

"Well, you've b-been following h-her about since first y-year."

"She's my best friend," Alastor said hurriedly. "Or best girl friend. Best friend who's also a girl."

Geoffery snickered but seemed otherwise willing to accept this explanation, for now at least. The boys waited among the crowd of students, all but oblivious to the hum and chatter of conversation around them. Alastor raised up on his toes in an effort to spot Minerva or Tiberius. In the dark, surrounded by students wearing dark robes, picking out a dark-haired girl turned out to be a very difficult task indeed. Alastor settled instead for searching for Tiberius' lanky form. Tiberius Kirk stood well taller than any other Hogwarts student, and honestly taller than anyone Alastor had ever seen for that matter. Spotting the towering Scotsman seemed much easier than the alternative at the moment.

"You know what I think?" Donald asked, breaking the silence.

"Besides too much?" Alastor countered, eyebrows raised.

Donald ignored the jab and continued.

"I think last year...something happened with you and Minerva."

Alastor had been half turning to his right, because there had been a flash of moonlight on glasses and perhaps that girl there was Minerva. At Donald's words, however, Alastor froze instantly, heart pounding in his ears.

"What makes you say that?"

"Midway through the year you two quit speaking for a few weeks. And then even after that, there was always something different," Donald mused.

Of course, Donald was unfortunately quite right, much to Alastor's discomfort. Part of the way through fifth year, Alastor and Minerva had kissed. Not exactly deliberately, and she had certainly kissed him first. But then he had kissed back, and suddenly Alastor had realized that he might actually be in love. Minerva had avoided him impressively though, and even when he finally did have the chance to talk to her, she had said, in no uncertain terms, that she did not want things to change between them. Merlin, but that had hurt awfully, though Alastor would never tell a soul just how awfully. Minerva wanted things to stay the same, and Alastor would do absolutely anything for her. He had spent the rest of the year pretending nothing had happened. He had tried to ignore the awful ache in his chest and the butterflies in his stomach anytime Minerva sat beside him or smiled at him. And he had certainly come to hate the phrase "What's a kiss or two between friends?" But Alastor would rather die than tell Donald Pritchett the truth about any of this.

Geoffery was watching them both curiously now, frowning and glancing from Donald to Alastor and back again. Donald's expression looked infuriatingly as though he was working through a test that he already knew the answers to, and Alastor had the distinct impression that he was rather trapped. A hand seized hold of his wrist though, tugging gently, and Alastor found himself rescued by none other than Minerva McGonagall herself. She was smiling, dark hair falling in loose curls and Merlin but she looked beautiful. Alastor could not help but smile. Minerva's hands were quite suddenly on either side of his face, eyes searching from behind her glasses, and for a moment Alastor thought she was going to kiss him. Her search ended quickly though, a smile stretching across her face, and she wasted no further time before hugging him around the neck.

"We've been looking everywhere for you."

"I'm not exactly easy to miss," Alastor replied, grinning as he tugged at a lock of his own auburn hair.

Beside Minerva, an exceptionally tall shape emerged from the shadows, revealed by the lamp light to be Tiberius Kirk. Tiberius had an odd sort of look on his face, almost a relieved expression. The same expression that usually occurred when Alastor had managed to avoid another fight. Now that Alastor's was looking though, something of the same relieved nature seemed to be present in Minerva's eyes as well.

"Did I miss something?" Alastor asked.

"Oh...just. Tom was talking about you," Minerva said. "I was just a bit...well...anyway."

"I donnae think you get ta complain about being noticeable," Tiberius interrupted, punching Alastor lightly in the shoulder for good measure. "I've had three different first years asking if I'm a giant."

"A-are you?" Geoffery spoke up now. Tiberius raised an eyebrow and frowned a bit, so Geoffery hastily added, "Just a-always sort of w-wondered."

A carriage rolled to a stop just beside the group of sixth years, and Tiberius gave a mock bow, gesturing grandly.

"I do believe this is our carriage, gentlemen. Ah, and lady, of course," Tiberius added, grinning at Minerva, who rolled her eyes even as she dropped a quick curtsey.

"You're too kind."

"You going to need help?" Alastor asked without thinking, and felt his face go red at the odd looks he earned from the other three boys.

Thankfully, Minerva merely shook her head, all but smirking at him as she climbed into the carriage with great ease. Alastor wondered if perhaps the earth could just swallow him now, or if that would be asking too much.

"Has she ever needed help?" Tiberius whispered, clearly trying not to laugh.

"Shut it you. I know where you'll be sleeping tonight," Alastor growled, motioning for Geoffery and Donald to go ahead and climb up. Geoffery managed this easily enough, but Alastor was a bit pleased when Donald stumbled and nearly fell, the smug look abruptly vanishing from the Ravenclaw boy's face.

"Easy there, Donny," Tiberius laughed, climbing up next. Alastor entered last, a bit surprised when a hand suddenly reached down into his field of vision.

"You going to need help?" Minerva asked lightly, only the barest hint of a smirk on her face. For a moment, Alastor briefly entertained the thought of seizing her hand and pulling her over the side of the carriage. Minerva would probably hex him though, and so Alastor merely sent a very pointed look in her direction and ignored her hand entirely. The moment he fell into a seat, the carriage began to move, rolling along in line behind its counterparts.

Alastor found himself seated between Geoffery and Minerva, and was very much aware of just how close Minerva happened to be sitting. Tilting his head back, elbows propped on the side of the carriage, Alastor breathed deep of the clean, open air, smiled up at the stars, and was for the hundredth time that day incredibly thankful to be free of London.

"What's got you in such a good mood?" Minerva asked, following his gaze skyward. Alastor glanced sideways at her, brief as possible, and ignored the unpleasant ache in his chest.

"Just glad to be back I suppose."

"Alastor, i-in a good mood?" Geoffery snorted. "I d-don't believe it."
"Could be a sign of the end of the world," Donald said. He began counting on his fingers, much to the amusement of Tiberius. "Or he's under some sort of spell. Perhaps he's not the real Alastor, just someone using Polyjuice to look like him. He could have suffered some sort of severe brain injury over the summer..."

The list earned laughter from all occupants of the carriage, even Alastor himself, though he felt rather confident his face had begun to go pink again.

"You been hit in tha head with any Bludgers lately?" Tiberius asked, attempting to be serious and failing badly. Alastor pretended to consider this for a moment, then shook his head.

"Not that I'm aware of."

"He wouldn't remember it of course," Donald said importantly, pushing his glasses back into place once more.

"I know how to tell if he's the real Alastor," Minerva said, snapping her fingers.

Grinning slyly, she leaned in close to whisper in Alastor's ear.

"After the fight last year, when I stayed up to wait for you. What happened?"

Alastor choked, literally, face going abruptly red. Minerva laughed, patting his shoulder as she leaned back into her own seat.

"It's definitely Alastor," she declared.

"Oh y-you've got t-to t-tell us!" Geoffery insisted, all but howling with laughter. "W-what did y-you say?"

"Why do I feel as though I've a fair idea?" Tiberius murmured, looking as though he could not entirely decide whether the incident was funny or not. Either way, Geoffery rounded on Tiberius eagerly.

"C-come on t-then, w-what is it?"

"I can't help but feel as though we're missing out by not knowing," Donald said coolly.

Alastor glowered at Tiberius, willing his friend not to say a word. Donald and Geoffery might have had no idea about what had happened last year, but Tiberius certainly knew. Well honestly, Tiberius had demanded to know after pulling Alastor out of a midnight duel, roundly insisting to be told the reason for Alastor's worse-than-usual temper. Tiberius locked eyes with Alastor, shaking his head ever so slightly. Thankfully, before either Geoffery or Donald could decide to press the matter further, the carriage rolled to a halt.

"Well, gentlemen, I do believe this is our stop," Minerva said, already moving almost before the carriage stopped. At least, Alastor noted, that meant he could avoid making a fool of himself twice. The boys climbed down, brushing off and readjusting robes as soon as their feet were on solid ground. The doors to the entrance hall were wide open, warm light spilling down the stone steps that led up to the castle. Donald's stomach growled and effectively ruined the moment.

"And on that note," Donald grinned sheepishly, "I think I shall depart to find the rest of my dear housemates. I'll see you all later."

Alastor waved, watching as Donald vanished to a nearby crowd of Ravenclaws. Geoffery, too, was already several steps ahead, pointing toward the entrance with his thumb.

"I'm off as w-well. See if y-you can't stay out of trouble?"

"Of course," Tiberius replied, feigning shock.

Geoffery laughed and shook his head, then turned and jogged up the stairs toward the castle.

Tiberius paused for a moment, hands in his pockets as he surveyed the castle, apparently ignoring the passing crowd around him. Minerva took the opportunity to make her way up the steps, pulling Alastor along behind her.

"You didn't mind my tactics did you?"

"Tactics?" Alastor asked, frowning confusedly.

"On the carriage. For making sure you were really you," Minerva explained.

"Oh! Oh, no. No, I didn't mind. Don't mind. Whichever," Alastor finished, wincing a bit at the sound of himself and wishing he could manage not to grow entirely this flustered when talking to Minerva. She did not seem to mind, not that she ever seemed to mind really, and the pair of them waited on the top step for Tiberius to catch up. Tiberius' long legs managed the stairs in a few easy strides, hands still in his pockets.

"You know, I was just think-Hello."

A bit surprised by Tiberius' sudden change in word and tone, not to mention the distinctive scowl that the Scotsman now wore, Alastor glanced over his shoulder and realized that someone else had approached. Two someones, in fact. Both were girls in Ravenclaw robes, one blond, the other brunette. The blond girl, Rosie Priest, appeared to be scowling in Tiberius' general direction. The brunette, Mirabell McKinnon, was quite pointedly staring at Alastor himself.

"Ah...hello," Alastor managed, casting a pleading glance toward first Minerva, then Tiberius. Tiberius was still busy with his scowling match, and Minerva had gone utterly silent, arms crossed.

"How was your summer, Alastor?" Mirabell asked.

"Fine, thanks. Yours?" Alastor swung one elbow back as discreetly as possible in an effort to draw Tiberius' attention. Mirabell smiled prettily up at him, twirling a lock of her hair around one finger.

"Oh, very nice. We went to Wales, it was lovely."

"That's...fantastic," Alastor said. "Ah, well, it was nice seeing you, Mirabell, and-"

Mirabell shook her head, stepping closer. Alastor would have sworn he saw Minerva stiffen and scowl.

"You can call me Bell. Most everyone else does."

"Alright then, Bell, it was nice seeing you. I expect I'll see you in class," Alastor made another effort to draw someone's attention, to no avail. Why precisely his friends had chosen this time to enter some sort of scowling contest and abandon him to Bell McKinnon was entirely beyond him. Bell, for her part, looked positively overjoyed at the thought of classes. Far too overjoyed, in Alastor's opinion.

"I'm sure it'll be wonderful. Come on then, Rosie, we'd better go find seats," Bell smiled again, seizing hold of Rosie's wrist. This method seemed more effective than Alastor's tactic had been, because Rosie spun on her heels almost instantly, trailing after Bell.

"Well that was...odd," Alastor frowned, managing a quick smile as Bell waved one last time in his direction. "Thanks for all the help, by the way."

"Sorry mate. We're mortal enemies, you see," Tiberius explained, still faintly scowling and apparently quite serious.

"Rubbish. Since when?" Alastor demanded.

"Since third year, for your information. She was a right little bully."

Alastor rolled his eyes, fully aware of the incidents to which Tiberius was referring.

"So she hexed a few of your school things three years ago, and that makes you mortal enemies?"

"My quill sang, Alastor. It sang in every bloody class," Tiberius said darkly. Alastor sighed and shook his head, turning his attention now to Minerva, who still had yet to move or speak. She seemed to have fallen into the look that had last year been labelled as her intimidating prefect stare.

"You alright?" Alastor asked.

"Fine," Minerva said shortly, sounding anything but. "Just fine. Sometimes I wonder how girls like that get into Ravenclaw."

"Girls that are bullies?" Tiberius guessed, clearly not willing to let the matter drop.

"No. Well. I suppose. Mostly girls like Bell McKinnon," Minerva said, gesturing in the direction of the entrance hall, where Bell and Rosie had disappeared into the crowd of students.

"Well." Alastor considered this for a moment. "They were very pretty."

Minerva's intimidating prefect stare suddenly settled on Alastor, much to his great discomfort. Before he could say anything else, Minerva sighed irritatedly and stormed away, fists clenched at her side.

"What just happened?" Alastor asked after a moment, feeling as though someone had hit him with a Confundus Charm. Tiberius shrugged, looking just as confused as Alastor felt.

"No idea."

"They were pretty." Defending this point seemed to be of some importance, Alastor decided.

"McKinnon, sure," Tiberius allowed. "Priest...I donnae think I'd go that far. The personality rather cancels out tha looks."

"Don't you think that's a bit unfair?" Alastor asked, walking away before Tiberius could have time to start some long explanation.

"Singing. Quill," Tiberius repeated, following along behind.

"If you insist. Come on, we probably ought to find Minerva before the sorting starts."

Alastor gestured toward the rapidly thinning crowd of students in the entrance hall. He suddenly had a serious sense of worry that he had perhaps said something to upset Minerva. This seemed a bit unfair, however, because Minerva had in fact been the one to say that things ought not to change. Why in Merlin's name should she care which girls Alastor thought were pretty?