In the Light Of the Stars

Minerva strode down the corridor of St. Mungo's, looking straight ahead. Her ATS uniform, which Cedrella Weasley had helpfully cleaned and pressed just the day before, attracted numerous inquisitive glances and more than one outright hostile glare. So intent was she on reaching the lift that would take her to the first floor where Reggie was recuperating from his injuries; that she failed to notice the skeletal man, enveloped in a swirling, dark cloak, with hair so blonde, it was nearly white. His fingers grasped her arm above her elbow in a vise-like grip. 'You're a disgrace to the title of witch,' he hissed.

Minerva wrenched her arm from his clutch and turned her level gaze to none other than Abraxas Malfoy. 'A disgrace?' she asked archly. She let her eyes travel slowly down the gaunt figure then back to his glittering grey eyes. 'If I were you, I'd exercise a bit more caution in tossing about words like disgrace.' More than once, Jack had mentioned Abraxas Malfoy in extraordinarily unflattering terms, especially his fawning, ingratiating attempts to worm his way into the upper echelons of Ministry , accompanied helpfully with small "gifts" of gold.

Malfoy's eyes bulged in restrained fury. 'You insolent -'

'Better to be thought insolent than unscrupulous,' Minerva sniffed. She took a deliberate step to the side, removing herself from Malfoy's immediate vicinity. 'If you'll excuse me,' she said regally. Unwilling to remain in his company, she pivoted and pushed open the door to the seldom-used stairs. She took them two at a time, and burst through the door on the next floor with a clatter. Nodding to the witch behind a desk in the waiting area for the ward, Minerva continued down the dark corridor until she came to the room that contained patients recovering from burns and peered through the window set in the door. Reggie was the room's sole occupant, tucked into a neatly-made bed, leafing through an ancient and ragged copy of Witch Weekly. He looked odd with parts of his face and head still coated with dark-orange paste. She rapped softly on the door and poked her head through the door. 'Are ye feeling well enough for visitors?'

'Absolutely.' Reggie grinned a little, but not too much to avoid stretching the newly healed skin on his cheeks. He gestured to a hard-backed chair next to the bed and remained silent until Minerva had settled into it.

'Ye look well,' she said.

Reggie's hand rose to probe his nose. 'Looked a mess just a couple of days ago. Your Healers are pretty damn good.'

'We'll hae a new flat by next week,' Minerva told Reggie. 'I caught a peek at it yesterday. Unfortunately, it's a wee bit smaller than the old one.' She paused. 'Officially, Jack and you are sharin' a room.'

'Not like any of them in command come by the flat to inspect it,' Reggie commented. 'Besides, Jack an' me are on opposite shifts anyway.'

Minerva glanced at her watch and rose smoothly. 'I'm due at Windsor soon,' she explained.

'They ain't givin' you any time off?' Reggie asked in disbelief.

Minerva's shoulders stiffened. 'I hae a duty,' she said pointedly. 'I took an oath I intend to fulfill to the best of my abilities. I dinna expect special treatment.'

'Settle down, girl,' Reggie said defensively. 'I just thought they might give you some leave at least.'

She shook her head and gathered her handbag and case. 'I need to go. I wanted to see for myself that ye were on the mend.'

'I'll be good as new by the end of the week,' Reggie assured her. 'I'm really sorry about your dad. I never heard that bomb hit... You be careful out there, girl, you hear me?'

'I will.' Minerva promised. She lightly touched the small area on the back of Reggie's left hand that wasn't covered with the orange paste and left the hospital. It was her first day back on duty since her father had died from a German bomb. The memory made her lip curl in distaste. Muggle weapons were crude and indiscriminate, killing man, woman, adult, child, soldier, or civilian alike. Like all Hogwarts students, she had learned defensive magic, as well as offensive magic, much to the chagrin of many a parent. It made sense. After all, how was one to learn how to effectively defend themselves, if they did not know how to cast it? There were exceptions, of course. There always were. The three Unforgivable curses were not taught in the practical side of the class. If you were lucky, you might be able to throw off an Imperius, if you fought or questioned the commands hard enough. With the Cruciatus, you just had to hope the witch or wizard tired of torturing you before you went insane from the pain. It had happened a time or two many, many years before, but it was rare that any witch or wizard relied solely on one curse to gain what they desired. Unless, of course, they enjoyed inflicting pain. That thought alone made Minerva shiver in the warm corridor. Finally, there was the curse against which there was no counter curse in the world that could block it: the Killing curse. Minerva disliked using any sort of offensive magic, if she could avoid it, but at least with spells and curses, one had to be able to see the person receiving the jinx or hex. It personalized battles to Minerva, and dueling at school had only reinforced that.

She Apparated to Windsor and let the guard at the gate check her bags, then wave her thought. 'Good morning to you, miss,' the young soldier said, passing her handbag pack to her. Minerva nodded and walked through the gate, entering Windsor through the servants' entrance. The blacked-out windows lent a sinister air to the building, making it feel more like a prison than a royal residence.

She left her personal belongings in her small room, and checked in with her supervisor, and finally took her place at a small, plain desk outside the Queen's office. Minerva uncapped a Muggle pen and reviewed Queen Elizabeth's schedule for the next few days. Mercifully, very few public events were planned, which made Minerva's job that much easier. She quickly became engrossed in sketching the strategies she would use with the Queen's appearances. She liked to have more than one option available in the chance that circumstances could change. The Princesses Elizabeth and Margaret were to attend one or two over the next month, so Minerva made a note to meet with the witches guarding them and coordinate their efforts. The sound of soft footfalls echoed down the corridor and Minerva raised her head to see Princess Elizabeth walking determinedly down toward the Queen's office. 'Miss McGonagall,' the Princess said by way of a greeting.

Minerva stood and dropped a brief curtsey, murmuring, 'Your Royal Highness.' She stood with her hands clasped behind her back. It wasn't rare for the Princesses to venture to this area of the castle, but it wasn't common either. Minerva approved of the young Princess - she had a sensible air about her, and didn't allow things to outwardly ruffle her stereotypical British stiff upper lip.

Princess Elizabeth paused in front of Minerva's desk and inclined her head. 'My mother informed me of your father's death, Miss McGonagall,' she said in her soft, girlish voice. 'A German bomb, was it not?'

'Yes, Ma'am,' Minerva replied. 'He happened to be payin' me a visit.'

Princess Elizabeth reached out a hand and Minerva automatically clasped it in one of hers. The Princess shook it while saying, 'You have my sincere condolences, Miss McGonagall.'

'I thank ye, Ma'am.'

Princess Elizabeth's head bobbed slightly and she strode purposefully from the small antechamber, before suddenly pivoting on a heel and returning to Minerva's desk. 'Miss McGonagall, I was wondering if I might request your assistance in a small personal matter.'

Minerva's mouth twisted in wry humor. 'That would depend on the personal matter, Ma'am.'

'I am eighteen now,' Princess Elizabeth pronounced. 'I should like to help my country in any way possible and in as public a manner as possible.'

'Yes, Ma'am,'

'I thought perhaps I could join the Auxiliary Territorial Service.'

'It's verra difficult work, Ma'am,' Minerva cautioned. 'You'll be required to do physical labor, perhaps quite filthy work, as well.'

Princess Elizabeth's gaze was clear and resolute. 'I want to do my bit, Miss McGonagall. It isn't right that I should be cosseted here behind walls while my country suffers.'

Minerva inhaled slowly. It was a strange position in which to find herself, offering advice to a girl who was mere months younger than she. There was something to be said for attending school away from one's family and forced to account for one's decisions. It gave her an air of a woman far above her nineteen years. 'Begging your pardon, Ma'am, but this is something that ye should do on your own. If ye plan to rule the British Empire someday, ye should learn how to stand on your own feet before it becomes necessary, aye?' Minerva struggled to maintain a straight face at Princess Elizabeth's briefly crestfallen expression. 'If I might make a suggestion to ye, Ma'am...?'

'Yes?'

'You might try to tell your parents what ye just said to me, Ma'am. Ye have a verra good reason to want to be part of the ATS, especially in terms of duty to your country. And don't give up if they happen to say no the first time ye ask.'

'Thank you, Miss McGonagall.'

'You're welcome, Ma'am.' Minerva waited until the Princess disappeared before she resumed her seat. The monarch of England might be little more than a figurehead, but Elizabeth demonstrated an uncanny ability to understand just what figureheads could mean to their country. People would look to her as an example, and hopefully, she would be able to inspire them to follow her lead. At least that's what Minerva hoped would happen someday.

XxXxXxX

Jack sat in the Weasleys' back garden, his back propped against the stone wall. It was so quiet in the Devon countryside; he could imagine the war didn't exist outside his imagination, if Reggie hadn't joined them earlier that day, with large patches of shiny, newly healed skin stretching over his face and head, and even the backs of his hands. He had to admit the Healers at St. Mungo's had done a fantastic job on Reggie's burns and other injuries. He tilted his head back to soak in the rays of the late afternoon sunshine, then closed his eyes. If he thought the work might abate a little after the successful Normandy invasion, he was wrong. It had increased with the prediction that they could be in Berlin and end the war by Christmas. He heard the rustle of someone attempting to quietly walk through the taller grass near the wall and inhaled deeply, catching the slight scent of roses from the soap Cedrella and Minerva used. It wasn't Cedrella, the person's gait wasn't the heavy, measured stride of a woman in the later stages of pregnancy. So he wasn't surprised at all when Minerva folded herself to sit next to him. 'How's Reggie settling in?'

'Charmin' Cedrella wi' his skills in the kitchen,' Minerva chuckled. 'And while she's distracted, he's passin' biscuits to Nat.'

Jack eyed Minerva. 'And how are you?'

She shrugged with one shoulder. 'I canna change what happened, aye? Da's gone.'

'When's the service?'

'Day after tomorrow. The Ministry is goin' to transport his... body... to Scotland.'

'Do you mind if I come?' Jack asked.

Minerva shook her head. 'I dinna mind. But you're goin' to hae to deal wi' my aunt Janet. She's Da's sister, and will be wantin' me to stop my activities in London and join what she would call proper wizarding society.'

'She sounds like a peach,' Jack snorted.

'Och, aye. She's a great one for people bein' in their proper place,' Minerva muttered.

'Does she have something against Muggles?' Jack asked curiously.

'No. Just firm ideas about what a witch or wizard ought to do wi' their time. And helpin' fight a Muggle war isna one o' them.'

'Do you ever think about what you're going to do when the war ends?'

Minerva stared into the distance. 'I hadna thought about it, to be honest,' she confessed. 'Before I joined the war effort, I had thought about goin' into Gringotts. Some wealthier families like to hae their valuables charmed to misdirect thieves, or hidden in plain sight.' Her head tilted to one side. 'It wouldna be a bad place to start.'

'You could come to California with me,' Jack blurted in a rush.

Minverva hooted softly. 'Get on wi' ye,' she scoffed.

'I'm serious,' Jack said.

'Dinna be ridiculous,' Minerva said. She pushed herself to her feet and brushed dried grass from the back of her skirt. 'Dinner ought to be ready by now,' she told him, walking back toward the house, effectively ending the conversation. It gave her plenty of food for thought, mulling over Jack's cloaked proposal, while she pushed the food around her plate. If she were forced to admit it, it was an immensely appealing idea. She could go somewhere else and live a life unconstrained by expectations. Besides, it wasn't as if she couldn't travel to Scotland from time to time from California.

But...

There was always one of those, wasn't there?

In spite of Jack's numerations of its good points, Jack had often criticized America in the same breath he castigated the British Ministry. He spoke of the struggles he and his cousin Kenji had in deciding to join the Army from behind barbed wire surrounding the internment camp where his family had been sent more than two years ago in the wake of the Pearl Harbor bombing by the mere fact of their Japanese heritage. There were too many uncomfortable parallels between that and the stories they heard from the Continent regarding Germany's treatment of people they considered undesirable, which was a considerable list consisting of anyone who dared disagreed with the Nazi Party, but especially those who they identified as Jews. Minerva could at least give the Americans credit for not murdering the Japanese citizens. She had also overheard Jack talking to Tony about one of their friends from Salem who had fallen in love with a witch from Jack's neighborhood, but her family had pressured her to marry a Japanese wizard from the Seattle area. It would be illegal for Minerva to marry Jack in California, especially considering wizardkind in America were subject to American civil laws as well as the magical laws, it would prove difficult to find someone to legally marry them. She also knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that persuading Jack to stay in Britain would be nearly impossible. He wouldn't leave his family behind, whereas she now had no close family left to tie her to Britain any longer.

'Min?' Jack's voice intruded on her internal ruminations.

'Hmmm?'

'Are you feeling all right?'

'Of course. Why do ye ask?'

'You've barely eaten your dinner...'

Minerva looked down at her plate with consternation. She had mindlessly stirred the contents of her plate into unidentifiable mush. She glanced at Cedrella with an abashed expression. 'I'm sorry,' she began. 'I was thinking...' She laid the fork down on the plate. 'I'm afraid I'm no' verra hungry just now.' Minerva pushed her chair back and stood, picking up her plate. 'If you'll excuse me, I think I'll go to bed.' She Vanished the remains of her dinner, then set the plate on the drainboard next to the sink and stole up the stairs to the bathroom on third floor.

Jack murmured his own excuses and followed her up the stairs. 'Min...'

'I've been thinking about what ye asked earlier,' she told him.

'I thought you might be.'

Minerva twisted the claddagh ring around her finger. 'I canna gie ye the answer ye want to hear,' she said softly, regretfully. 'No' yet,' she added.

Jack's mouth tightened and his eyes narrowed with something Minerva didn't care to identify. 'I can wait,' he growled.

XxXxXxX

Thin, grey clouds covered the sky, with a pale sun sending weak rays through small, intermittent breaks in the clouds. Minerva stood next to a gaping hole in the ground, a plain wooden coffin suspended over it with charms. There weren't many people at the service - just Minerva, her aunt, the officiating Ministry wizard, and Jack. The service was mercifully brief. The wizard had only known Angus in passing, so he mouthed the usual platitudes, all the while eyeing Minerva with cold disdain. The wizard waved his wand and the coffin sank into the ground, then the churned up mound of earth lifted and settled into the grave. Minerva herself placed the headstone, a rough square of grey granite, carved with her father's name and the dates of his life and death, stylized thistles etched into the corners. The wizard approached Minerva and placed limp, clammy fingers in her hand by way of a handshake. 'Miss McGonagall,' he began with a purse of his lips. 'My sympathies. While I admire the sentiment that drives you to aid the Muggles, I feel I must add that had it not been for your rash decision to join their cause, your father might still be alive.'

Jack's head reared back. He'd promised Minerva he wouldn't interfere today, but in his opinion that comment had gone beyond the pale. 'Are you blaming Min - er - Miss McGonagall for a situation over which she had absolutely no control? Jesus, man, Mr. McGonagall could have been hit by a bus crossing the street in London. You can't tell me there haven't been witches and wizards here that have been killed by bombs,' he said incredulously.

'Captain Hashimoto,' Minerva interjected stiffly. 'I thank ye for your support, but it isna helpin',' she said pointedly, but softly. She turned to the Ministry wizard. 'Will ye stay for tea?'

The wizard glanced at Jack, still glowering behind Minerva, and shook his head. 'Thank you for the offer, but I must respectfully decline. Duties in the Ministry, you understand.' Minerva nodded and discreetly pressed a small bag into the wizard's palm. It clinked softly as he tucked it into his robes, and Disapparated. It was only when the high-pitched pop of his Apparition faded that Minerva turned and began the short walk back to the house.

She stood in the open doorway of her father's house with the sinking realization that it was now hers. She felt a pair of small, hard hands push her all the way inside the house. 'For Merlin's sake, Minerva, dinna stand about in doorways when ye hae people standin' behind ye, waitin' to enter the house.'

'Sorry, Auntie Janet,' Minerva muttered automatically, albeit grumpily, walking into the kitchen. She picked up her father's old copper teakettle and tapped it with her wand. 'Would ye care for some tea?'

Jack shouldered her aside. 'You sit. I'll make the damn tea,' he said in her ear, so her aunt didn't hear. 'Old bat should be making you tea,' he added under his breath.

Minerva reached for the kettle. 'I'll do it.'

Jack held it out of her reach. 'I am perfectly capable of making tea,' he said firmly. 'My dad's mother didn't care for coffee, and she made sure we knew how to make a cup of tea, even though none of us can stand the stuff. Go sit down,' he ordered sternly, waiting until she had settled into one of the chairs that ringed the table. She had no more than arranged the skirts of her black robes when her aunt launched into a lecture.

'Minerva, when are you goin' to gie up this silly idea of workin' wi' the Muggles and tae your rightful place in the magical community? Cooperation wi' Muggles is one thing, but ye dinna need to spend your best years in service for a world that willna ever understand what ye can do.'

'Auntie Janet,' Minerva sighed impatiently. 'It isna goin' to last forever, aye?'

'Bah!' the older woman declared. 'Nonsense. I dinna understand why your da allowed ye to go harin' off intae London like some sort o' hoyden. In my day, young witches knew their place.'

'If it puts your mind to rest, Auntie Janet, Da didna like it any more than you do,' Minerva snapped.

'O' course he didna,' Janet McGonagall sniffed. 'Ye might be o' age, Minnie, but that doesna mean ye know what's best for ye.'

'Oh, aye?' Minerva snorted skeptically. 'And I suppose ye do?'

'How old are ye now, girl?' Janet countered. 'All o' nineteen? At nineteen ye ought to be trainin' do somethin' wi' your life, no' gallivantin' around London, playactin' like you're a Muggle while you're workin' as a glorified nursemaid.'

Jack set the teapot on the table with enough force that tea sloshed from the spout and puddled the surface of the polished table. Minerva shook her head slightly and he inhaled deeply to maintain his grip on his temper while he retrieved the sugar bowl and poured fresh milk into the milk jug. He set them next to the teapot then placed cups, saucers, and spoons in front of Minerva and Janet. 'I'm going for a walk,' Jack muttered to Minerva, as he marched from the kitchen. The door slammed behind him and Janet added milk to her tea and took a cautious sip to test it. 'At least he can brew a decent cuppa,' Janet said smugly. She glared at Minerva over the rim of her cup. 'Dinna get mixed up wi' him,' she warned. 'Americans, ye ken.'

Minerva stirred milk and sugar into her tea, but left it untasted on the table. Normally, she let Janet scold to her heart's content, but her mother's letters encouraging her to do what she felt was right echoed in her head. Her father had cultivated in her a strong sense of commitment. She could taste her conversation with Princess Elizabeth, in which she'd pushed the girl to stand up for her beliefs. If she was going to do more than spout empty words, she ought to do the same. 'Da might not hae liked what I chose to do, Auntie Janet, but he did teach me to honor my responsibilities. And I will continue to do so until their war ends, whether ye like it or no'. If ye dinna like it, that isna my problem, aye? How can ye all but order me to turn my back on what I've promised to do and his body not even cold in his grave! I trust ye can see yourself home.' With that Minerva gathered her skirts in one hand and stood. She swept from the kitchen and out into the front garden, where Jack perched on a large boulder. 'Shall we go?' She Disapparated to the Weasleys' home in Devon without waiting for a response.