My Soul to Keep

The next morning found a few students awake and present in the Great Hall for an early breakfast, Minerva McGonagall among them. Unfortunately, neither a good night's sleep nor the company of the girls in her dormitory had managed to at all brighten Minerva's rather dismal mood. Her excitement at returning to Hogwarts had been quite effectively dampened by the untimely appearance of Bell McKinnon. Well, perhaps not Bell herself, Minerva allowed. Not entirely anyway. Minerva's present mood had far more to do with Alastor.

"I just don't understand how he could say something like that!" Minerva stabbed her fork through a piece of toast, sheerly for emphasis. Beside her, Augusta Prewett glanced up from her own breakfast. Augusta had already heard this particular rant twice before but seemed perfectly content to allow Minerva a third time.

"Lots of other boys think the same thing," Augusta declared, apparently not as content to hear the same lecture as Minerva had hoped. Here ideally was the part where Augusta was supposed to inquire as to what precisely Alastor had said. Minerva would then dutifully convey the words, and Augusta would react with appropriate horror, and the conversation would go on from there. At no point was Augusta supposed to admit that Alastor might in fact be even marginally correct, and Minerva told her so in no uncertain terms.

"Look here," Augusta sighed, abandoning her breakfast entirely and turning to face Minerva. "You're the one who told him you only wanted to be friends, yes?"

"Well, yes, but -" Minerva attempted to argue, but Augusta raised a hand and cut her off. Augusta was understanding and patient, but only to a point, and she rather detested any sort of complaints. Especially when said complaints came about as a direct result of the complainers actions. Minerva figured she really ought to have remembered that.

"Yes. Yes, I told him that," Minerva said matter of factly.

Augusta seemed much more pleased with this response.

"You're the one who told him you didn't want the friendship to change."

"Yes," Minerva agreed again, this time through gritted teeth.

"Then as much as it pains me to say this, you really haven't got much place to be upset whenever Alastor shows any interest in someone else," Augusta said.

Somehow, Minerva had a feeling that Augusta was not at all pained by the statement, but she did appreciate the effort.

"Are you going to add some form of threat, or was that all?"

"I'm sure I have no idea what you mean," Augusta replied, attention now very determinedly on her breakfast. "Although if you continue going on about this I wouldn't be too terribly surprised if your schoolbooks started dancing in the middle of class."

Realistically speaking, Augusta was in fact quite right about the whole mess with Alastor. Minerva would of course never admit this, as Augusta already thought highly enough of herself and there was no sense adding to the problem. Still, Minerva could not deny that the mess was anything but her own fault. The thought caused an unpleasant twist in her stomach, the same sort of twist that had struck yesterday upon seeing Alastor talking to Bell. The same sort of twist that had plagued her since mid-November of last year. Minerva poked her toast around the plate a few times, trying to sort out how precisely her friendship with Alastor had become quite so complicated.

She had kissed him, for one. Safe to say that was probably the origin of the issue. At the time though, kissing Alastor had seemed like exactly the right thing to do. Only, Minerva had not at all been prepared for the sudden, jarring shift that had come with the kiss. Her feelings for Alastor had admittedly been slowly changing all the way up until that point, drawing closer to some great defining edge. The kiss had not only closed the distance to that edge, but also quite effectively gone ahead and thrown Minerva over for good measure. She had reacted badly, and she had avoided him, and when finally cornered she had panicked a bit and told him she did not want things to change. Now that she had time to think properly about the matter, however, Minerva found herself wondering if perhaps she had made the wrong decision.

"That toast do something to offend you?"

Minerva glanced up sharply to see Alastor himself standing on the opposite side of the table. He was grinning at her, auburn hair still a bit unkempt and robes as neat and clean as they would be all year. Overall he looked rather handsome, and the unpleasant twist in Minerva's stomach abruptly shifted into butterflies. Minerva cursed those butterflies and hoped they died horrible deaths. Alastor sat down without waiting for a reply, Tiberius beside him. The tables in the Great Hall had evidently not been built with anyone of Tiberius' height in mind, as Tiberius nearly always managed to bash his knees at least once. One long-fingered hand snaked out and made a grab for Minerva's toast.

"If you're just going ta poke holes in it," Tiberius said, all mock solemnity, "then there's a certain starving Scotsman who'd be happy ta have your breakfast."

Alastor snickered, heaping food onto his own plate, but Minerva just rolled her eyes and allowed Tiberius to steal the rest of her toast. Allowed of course meant that she only made a half-hearted effort to catch his hand with her fork, and only actually caught him once by accident. Tiberius still acted as if he had been mortally injured.

"All I ask fer is food, and you go on and stab me!"

"Cheer up Tiberius," Augusta spoke up, pushing her own plate to one side. "If you'd tried to steal my breakfast, I'd have just hexed you."

Tiberius considered this threat for a moment and looked to be genuinely prepared to make some sort of attempt. Minerva shook her head, smiling and catching Alastor's eye. Had his mouth not been full of food, Minerva felt rather confident that he would have been laughing quite loudly. Sure enough, Alastor swallowed hurriedly, coughing and choking a bit but in the end definitely laughing.

"I wouldn't try it mate. She's not joking."

"Maybe I'll just have a bit of yours then," Tiberius said, winking at Minerva as he reached sideways toward Alastor's plate. Alastor sobered instantly, attempting to push his breakfast out of Tiberius' reach. A difficult feat, given the long reach of Tiberius' arm, but somehow Alastor managed.

"I wouldn't even bother hexing you," Alastor said stiffly. "I'll just hit you."

"And here I'd forgotten what a charming fellow you are in the mornings," Augusta said dryly. Tiberius seemed a bit incredulous.

"In tha mornings? He threatens ta hit people all day."

"Rubbish," Alastor said, shaking his head, "not quite all day."

"No. Usually not at meal times, and not when you're asleep," said Minerva, counting on her fingers and grinning at the round of laughter this observation earned. Alastor turned a bit pink and for a moment looked about to argue further, then merely smiled sheepishly and turned his attention to his plate.

Owls began to fly into the hall, quite a large number of them weighed down with packages. Minerva found herself watching for her father's owl, but was not especially surprised when the owl did not appear. Her parents had been at King's Cross yesterday to see off Minerva and her younger brother after all. The only time Minerva had ever actually received any sort of letter on the first day of term was when her parents wrote to congratulate her on being sorted to Gryffindor. Augusta paid no attention at all to the owls, and neither did Alastor. Only Tiberius seemed to be watching for one particular bird or another.

"You expecting a package?" Minerva asked.

"No." Tiberius smiled tightly. "Taken out a subscription to tha Prophet, actually."

Sure enough, a large brown owl swooped in low over the Gryffindor table, landing with a thump in front of Tiberius. After a moment or two of digging in his pockets for the right change, Tiberius paid the owl and retrieved his newspaper. The bird had barely flown away before Tiberius and Alastor had both pushed their plates to the side and the paper was stretched open across the table, pictures moving and flashing in black and white. News of the war covered every page, reports on the movements of the Muggle armies and Grindelwald's forces. Even upside down, some of the pictures were dark and grim and Minerva shuddered in spite her best efforts. The world had been at war almost as long as Minerva had been at Hogwarts, a grim reality that lay outside the safe walls of the school. She spent enough time at home during holidays hearing all the latest news, thanks to her father's compulsive attention to any and every wireless broadcast. Minerva thus did not share Tiberius and Alastor's grim enthusiasm for collecting news on he war while at school.

"You heard from your da recently, Alastor?" Tiberius asked quietly, gaze shifting sideways toward his friend. Alastor had by this point lost interest in his breakfast in favor of an interview with three wizards who had recently escaped an enemy prison camp, and thus failed to hear Tiberius' question.

"Alastor," Minerva tried this time, and succeeded in drawing most, if not all, of Alastor's attention away from the paper.

"Hmm?"

"Have you heard from you father?"

Minerva had only ever met Adrian Moody once, in the summer before her second year. Mr. Moody was a muggleborn wizard who worked as an automobile repairman, or at least he had before the war. By the time Grindelwald had taken most of the continent, Mr. Moody had joined up with the army, though Minerva had always been a bit unclear as to whether he had joined the Muggle or magical forces. Either way, Alastor had not seen his father in years, having to make do with the occasional letter and the even more occasional Floo conversation. Minerva did not remember much about Mr. Moody, save that he seemed to love his sons very much, and that Alastor had grown to look quite a lot like him.

"Had a letter from him back in June, just after school ended," Alastor said slowly. "Though I think it had been delayed, because he wished me good luck on the OWLs."

Silence passed for a moment, as no one else had a relative far away and fighting and thus no one was really sure what best to say next. Alastor dropped his gaze back to the paper, fingers drumming on the table. Without thinking, without giving the butterflies a chance to act, Minerva reached out and placed her hand over Alastor's. The drumming stopped abruptly as he glanced up at her.

"At least you've heard from him. And I'm sure you'll get another letter by your birthday."

"Suppose that could happen," Alastor murmured, trying not to look too hopeful. Tiberius made a great show of turning the pages of the Prophet, and Augusta coughed time or two as she leaned over to search for something in her school bag. Minerva realized that her hand was still on Alastor's, a fact which he seemed to realize at about the same time. Both of them drew back, Minerva's hands quickly falling into her lap and Alastor's running through his hair. Minerva could feel her face growing red and could plainly see Alastor's doing the same, and the butterflies were back and oh, Merlin, was a nice quiet breakfast with friends too much to ask?

Fortunately, any sort of extended awkwardness was avoided entirely as Charlus Potter chose that moment to appear at the Gryffindor table. A badge was pinned to the outside of his robes - a Quidditch captain's badge, Minerva realized after a brief inspection. A fleeting pang of disappointment reminded her that she had been hoping for the captain's position this year. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind however and instead very determinedly smiled up at Charlus.

"Congratulations."

"Why thank you," Charlus said, beaming as he leaning forward, resting one hand on the table and the other on Minerva's shoulder. Alastor's eyes narrowed in the direction of Charlus' hand, but Minerva was the only one to notice. "I'll be honest and say I was a bit surprised."

"I'll be honest and say I'm not," Tiberius said with a laugh. "In fact, I think tha only way I'd be surprised was if Alastor was captain."

Alastor, who had been attempting to commandeer the copy of the Daily Prophet, froze entirely and scowled at Tiberius.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Only that you'd be angry all tha time and kick everyone off tha team by tha second week of practice," Tiberius said.

For a moment, Minerva was afraid Alastor might hit him. Alastor's temper was the stuff of Gryffindor, if not Hogwarts, legend, and he had been in trouble numerous times over the years for having particularly bad outbursts in the middle of Quidditch practice.

"I wouldn't get rid of everyone. I'd keep Minerva," Alastor replied, scowl shifting into an easy grin. "And Charlus, suppose I'd keep you around too."

"I appreciate that," Charlus said, pushing his glasses back into place before they could fall off the end of his nose.

"You do realize you'd have to replace the entire rest of the team," Minerva pointed out gently, nodding her head toward Tiberius.

"Wouldn't need them," Alastor insisted. "Everybody knows Gryffindor's the team with the three best Chasers in the school."

"Ye need a seeker ta win tha match," Tiberius growled, crossing his arms and straightening to his full height. Some of the effect was lost as he bashed his knees against the underside of the table and winced. Charlus took the opportunity to intervene before the argument could progress further. Of course, by the look on his face, Minerva guessed he was resigning himself to dealing with Alastor and Tiberius' antics all season. Why this came as a surprise to Charlus was entirely beyond her - he had after all been sharing a dormitory with both boys for the past five years. He really ought to have expected this by now.

"Well, you'll be happy to know that as far as I'm concerned, the only position we need to replace is Keeper. Tryouts for the rest of you are nothing but a formality."

"Rather important position though," Minerva said, frowning. "Especially for someone starting brand new."

Charlus leaned even further forward now, one elbow on the table and tie dangerously close to falling into the jelly. His face lit up with an eager excitement as he pointed down the table.

"Just so happens I've already solved this problem. I've persuaded Gabriel to try out."

Minerva followed Charlus' gesture to one Gabriel Valentine, seated further down the table and surrounded, as usual, by girls. Gabriel was a sixth-year, easygoing, dark-haired, and exceedingly handsome, at least in the opinions of most females at Hogwarts. Minerva had fancied, flirted with, and very briefly dated Gabriel during her fourth year. His constant crowd of adoring, and oftentimes jealous, fans had made the whole thing a bit less enjoyable than Minerva had hoped. Gabriel realized that he was being watched by five of his fellow Gryffindors, sending a wave and a brilliant smile in their direction. Once, a smile from Gabriel Valentine had made Minerva's heart flutter. Now all she could think about was how Gabriel's smile was certainly not Alastor's. Merlin but this was beginning to be a problem. She waved back anyway, and Alastor and Tiberius nodded in the direction of their dormitory mate. Augusta seemed to have lost all interest in the current Quidditch conversation, but she did look up from her book long enough to smile in Gabriel's direction.

"Rest assured everyone," Charlus was saying, rapping his knuckles against the table. "This year, the Quidditch Cup is ours."

Seemingly finished with his morning announcements, Charlus straightened up, smoothing his robes and his ever-messy hair. He offered one final smile before striding away towards the end of the table where Gabriel currently sat.

"People are going to complain," Alastor grumbled, "if he puts his best friend on the team."

Minerva had honestly been thinking very much along the same lines. Charlus was a bit obsessive about Quidditch though, and she could not imagine him picking Gabriel for Keeper sheerly because they were friends.

"Maybe he's actually quite good at Keeper. Maybe. Hopefully."

"I expect it'll be hard to do much flying with all those girls clinging to him," Tiberius observed dryly, earning a laugh and an agreeing nod from Alastor. Minerva had to admit, Tiberius certainly had a point.

Breakfast drew to a close as the professors began to work their way around the Great Hall handing out schedules. Professor Dumbledore, Head of Gryffindor House, moved a bit slower than some of the other professors, stopping to chat with various students along the table. Minerva shifted in her seat, fully aware that she had received all the required OWLs for her classes and still quite anxious to be finished with this scheduling business. Her parents and siblings and various other relatives had been asking her all summer what sort of career Minerva intended to aim for, and the truth of the matter was that she had absolutely no idea. Or rather, that she had too many ideas. Sometimes the Auror Department sounded rather appealing, other times a nice quiet job at the Ministry. She could effectively rule out being a Healer at least. Teaching had quite often been an appealing sounding career, but there were no vacancies at Hogwarts and Minerva really could not imagine teaching anyplace else. As NEWT classes were generally decided based on career goals, Minerva was in a bit of trouble. Finally, Professor Dumbledore stopped beside Tiberius, hands full of blank parchment.

"Ms. Prewett, why don't we sort yours out first then."

Augusta, who had been rather conspicuously silent for quite some time now, closed the book she had been reading and sat up a bit straighter as she locked eyes with Professor Dumbledore.

"Alright, sir."

"You seem to have done quite well on your OWLs...or....at least, in everything save for Charms," Professor Dumbledore said gently. Minerva felt rather confident that only Dumbledore would be able to gently point out that someone had entirely failed an OWL test.

"I always thought it was a bit of a weak subject anyway," Augusta said brusquely. "Is it going to be a problem?"

Professor Dumbledore smiled, eyes twinkling behind his glasses.

"Not especially, no. Although I'm afraid that it will keep you out of consideration for the Auror Department, if that was still an interest of yours."

"Just a passing interest."

Augusta shrugged, eyes dropping to the table. Minerva suspected the interest had been much greater than passing, but did not dare comment.

"In which case, I'm happy to inform you that you've otherwise qualified for NEWT classes," said Dumbledore, tapping his wand to one of the blank parchments and handing the schedule to Augusta. Then he turned his attention to Tiberius and Alastor, who had been reading the paper again and pretending not to listen.

"Mr. Kirk, Mr. Moody, you are both still certainly on track for the Auror Department. And may I say congratulations on your Outstanding in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Mr. Moody. I'm sure Professor Merrythought will be pleased."

"Thank you sir," Alastor said, grinning proudly.

Defense had always been his best subject, just as Transfiguration had always been Minerva's. Tiberius often complained that he had no best subject and was thus horribly left out. Dumbledore conjured two more schedules, handing the first to Alastor and the second to Tiberius. The boys were thus well distracted when Professor Dumbledore seated himself in an empty space on the bench beside Alastor and leaned forward to talk to Minerva.

"Excellent work on your own OWLs, Ms. McGonagall. Do you intend to keep going in all the classes you've qualified in?"

"I think so. Yes. If the scheduling works out," Minerva said.

"The scheduling works out just fine," Dumbledore assured her. He conjured another schedule, but when Minerva reached out to take the parchment Dumbledore hesitated. "Have you in fact decided on what you intend to do with all these OWLs? Or rather, what you intend to do after finishing your NEWT courses?"

"Ah...not really."

Minerva blushed a bit, but Dumbledore only smiled again and handed her the schedule.

"Should you ever be in need of an enlightening conversation with your Head of House, my office is always open."

Professor Dumbledore stood up and moved on down the table. Only then did Minerva actually look at her schedule. She did not have much time to do so, however, as a hand suddenly appeared in her line of sight.

"What'd you get?" Alastor asked excitedly. Then, sobering a bit as the thought occurred to him, he asked, "We'll still be in the same classes, right?"

Minerva pushed her schedule to the middle of the table where three other pieces of parchment were already lined up, a bit pleased to see that she had the most classes. Augusta of course lacked Charms and Ancient Runes, both subjects having been her mortal enemies for the last few years. Alastor's schedule was closest to Minerva's, a fact which brought a smile to both their faces. He seemed to have only dropped History of Magic and Divination. Tiberius, on the other hand, had decided to stay on in Divination. Minerva raised an eyebrow and pointed this out in the schedule.

"Really, Tiberius?"

"I like it," Tiberius said stiffly, frowning and taking back his schedule. "Tis an interesting class."

"It's a rubbish class," Alastor muttered. "Future's not that predictable."

"You only wish it was," Tiberius grumbled, very pointedly looking from Alastor to Minerva. Alastor was almost immediately on his feet, face rapidly reddening and fists clenched. Minerva stood as well, hoping to halt the situation before anything actually happened. Tiberius had been friends with Alastor since first year, long enough not to take any of Alastor's outbursts personally. But still, Minerva would rather avoid detentions or trips to the hospital wing quite this early in the morning on the first day of term.

"I didn't think you were altogether that good at Divination."

"I do well enough." Tiberius looked away from Alastor, pointing toward the Ravenclaw table. "Donny, now he's got a real knack for the subject."

"Donny. You mean Donald Pritchett?" Minerva asked, more than slightly surprised.

Sure enough, Tiberius was pointing towards Donald, who Minerva had always thought was too practical to fall for rubbish like Divination. She would have to have a long talk with Donald at some point.

"He's brilliant, I'm telling you," Tiberius insisted. "Even the OWL examiner said so. We could always get him to read your fortune Alastor, I'm sure Donny wouldn't charge for a friend."

Before Alastor could actually decide hitting or hexing was in order, Minerva retrieved her bag and dropped the book-filled object on the table. The whole length of the table shook, sending a few plates skittering away from their owners and earning Minerva a few reproving looks. Fortunately, she also managed to draw the attention of both Alastor and Tiberius.

"We've all got Transfiguration first, haven't we? Wouldn't want to be late on the first day."

For a moment, the boys just looked at her blankly, a bit confused by the sudden shift in conversation. Then Augusta was on her feet, bag over one shoulder, and Alastor bent to retrieve his own schoolbooks, grumbling to himself all the while. Tiberius rose last, towering over the rest of them.

"Why is it-" Alastor leaned in closer to Minerva, whispering as they followed Tiberius and Augusta out of the Great Hall. "-that you're always intervening?"

"Intervening?" Minerva asked.

"Intervening. You know. Jumping in to stop me."

Alastor shrugged, apparently elaborating as much as he intended.

"Perhaps it's because I don't like for you to get into trouble," Minerva said coolly. "Think of it as my way of looking out for you."

"I don't need-" Alastor began to grumble, scowling, but Minerva's hand on his shoulder stopped him instantly.

"I know you don't need me to. But I want to, and Merlin someone's got to."

Alastor smiled sideways at her but said no more, though his smile did slip a bit when Minerva's hand fell from his shoulder. They reached the Transfiguration classroom well behind Tiberius and Augusta, and Alastor made a great show of holding the door and bowing as Minerva passed.

Transfiguration was easily Minerva's favorite subject, and an excellent way to begin the morning, in her opinion. Her mood was somewhat dampened, however, when she caught sight of a certain brunette girl who was very enthusiastically waving in the direction of the door. Minerva glanced over her shoulder to see a bemused-looking Alastor waving back. Tiberius, meanwhile, had engaged in yet another scowling match with Rosie Priest. Minerva glanced to Augusta, who was sitting in the front row beside Amelia Bones. Augusta glanced over her shoulder at Bell, pulled a face, and then shrugged. To Minerva's great alarm, Bell slid over in her seat, making room for another person to sit beside her. Based on the ongoing waving, there was little doubt as to who the intended person might be. Scowling overtop of her glasses, Minerva reached behind her and seized hold of Alastor's hand. Admittedly, she had been aiming for his wrist, but his hand worked just as well, even if the butterflies did choose that moment to wake up again.

"Come on, let's go sit with Tiberius."

"I...um...alright."

Alastor did not look nearly as baffled as he sounded. In fact, he seemed to look rather pleased. Minerva thought about hexing him on the spot. Bell McKinnon, at least, seemed to lose some of her enthusiasm, whispering to Rosie and glaring quite pointedly in Minerva's direction. Minerva ignored the Ravenclaw girls entirely, smiling serenely as she slid into a seat, Alastor beside her. If the last two days were any indication, Minerva decided, this was going to be a very interesting year.