Chapter Twenty-Four

All the world was pain.

When Minerva became aware of being alive, the agony that was the only thing that existed focussed her mind in a way that none of her Animagus or other magical exercises had ever done.

After a few moments...or hours, or days...in which pain was entire locus and purpose of her existence, she became aware of a voice, but she couldn't make out whose it was or what it was saying. Then something moved, and there was more pain, and she knew nothing else for a time.

A new voice eventually wormed its way into her consciousness, and after a few seconds, Minerva found she could understand some of the words.

". . . transport . . . unstable . . . bleeding . . ."

She forced herself to open her eyes and was immediately blinded by the sunlight. When she closed them, she heard the voice again.

"Whoa, whoa . . . stay with me, McGonagall . . . open your eyes . . . come on . . ."

She felt a hand at her cheek, lightly slapping it, and she opened her eyes again, wanting to tell her assailant to stop it . . . to let her sleep . . .

"There you are . . . good girl . . ."

Minerva found herself looking into the dirty and worried face of Senior Auror Greg McKinnon.

"We're getting you out of here, McGonagall . . . just hang on a little longer, right?"

"What . . ." she tried to say. Was that her voice?

"Don't try to talk. Do you remember the attack? Blink your eyes once for yes, twice for no."

Minerva thought.

Attack?

She remembered sitting in the tent, listening to McKinnon give instructions . . . what were they? She panicked for a moment when she realised she didn't remember what they were. She tried to sit up, but the pain slammed her back down before she had moved more than an inch.

"Take it easy. I'm not surprised if you don't remember anything. Blink once for yes, twice for no: Do you know who I am?"

She blinked.

"That's good. Very good. Now, in case you haven't figured it out...no you don't! Stay with me, McGonagall!"

Minerva felt more light slaps against her face.

She had tried to close her eyes again, but that made him shout. She decided to try to keep them open . . . anything to keep him from shouting and slapping her.

He said, "In case you haven't figured it out yet, you were attacked, and you're injured, but we're working on getting you out of here."

Suddenly, an image came to her: crouching in a small trench with Johnson, watching a group of Blackrobes . . . then running . . . then a blast of light . . . then . . . then . . . But try as she would, nothing more would come.

"Johnson . . ." she croaked.

"Quiet, McGonagall. Most of the others are accounted for, and it looks like you got the worst of it. But you're going to be fine. And anyway, Bones looks worse...you'll be able to compare scars," said McKinnon, giving her what she decided he believed to be a reassuring wink.

Another Auror, whose name Minerva couldn't remember, joined McKinnon, who was kneeling over her.

"Okay, we're ready with the Portkeys, but we've only got three, and they're not that strong. Who goes first?"

McKinnon replied, "You take McGonagall here with Bones. They're priority one-A. Tell them she's had fifty millilitres of Blood Replenishing Potion. Bones hasn't had anything but a compression bandage on her face. Watch her neck. Looks like she took the brunt of it to the head. Send Finnegan with Potter and Barnes, and Jones goes with Corner and McLaggen."

"Yes, sir. What about the bodies?"

Bodies?

"Leave them."

The new Auror looked at Minerva, saying, "Don't try to move. I'll be back in a tic, then we'll be off."

True to his word, he was back a minute later, Levitating another person Minerva didn't recognise in front of him, laying him or her down next to Minerva.

She realised who it was when she heard the voice complain, "Screw you, Prewett . . . I could've walked."

"Boss's orders, Bonesy. And stop moving so much unless you want to finish breaking your neck."

Minerva couldn't turn her head, but out of the corner of her eye she was able to see Amelia's shoulder, which was covered in blood.

"Amelia?"

"Yes. Is that you, Minerva?"

"Yes."

"Thank Merlin. I thought you were dead when that tree hit you."

Tree?

"How are you?" Minerva finally managed to wheeze, and it was agonising.

Minerva heard Amelia give a short, snorting laugh. "A bit better than you, I'd say . . . although my vision isn't so great at the moment. You're not going to die on me, are you McGonagall? Decent tent-mates are hard to come by."

Amelia's presence and her familiar banter were comforting, although Minerva wished she could see her friend and find out how badly she was injured. If she was being sent . . . wherever they were going . . . along with Minerva, she had to be worse than she sounded. Because Minerva wasn't at all sure she wasn't going to die.

I can't die. Da would be so upset. And I'll never see Albus again . . .

Forcing herself to keep her eyes open despite the glare of the sun and the seductive call of sleep and blessed oblivion, Minerva tried to speak more to help her stay alert, but found she had little breath. She tasted blood in her mouth.

Panic threatened, and she grasped for something to focus on to keep calm and alert.

Pain. Focus on the pain. Where is it coming from? Inventory of systems . . . What was the mnemonic? 'Sir, my cunt is nearly ready . . .' . . Skeletal, muscular, circulatory, integumentary, respiratory . . . What's next? . . . 'It expects . . .' Immune, excretory . . . It expects . . .'

But she couldn't finish it. Besides, she couldn't isolate where the pain was coming from because it seemed to be coming from everywhere . . . it seemed to be coming from the air around her . . .

The Auror was back.

"All right, ladies, we're ready to go. Bonesy, take hold of this. McGonagall, I'm going to put your hand on the Portkey . . . you just hold on, all right?"

Minerva felt something hard and smooth at her fingers and closed them around it. She felt cold, strong fingers wrap around hers.

"Okay . . . activating the Portkey now . . . we go in five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . hold on!"

The tug took what little breath Minerva had left away, so she didn't know if she was screaming aloud or not, and by the time the Portkey had delivered her to the Hôpital Magiques-Malades St-Peregrine, she had lost consciousness again.

When Minerva awoke again, it was dark, and she had no idea how much time had passed since the forest. She blinked several times and found she was able to move her head without agonising pain. There appeared to be four beds in the ward, all occupied. She thought the person in the bed next to hers was Amelia, but she couldn't be sure without closer inspection.

She was enormously relieved to find that most of the pain seemed to be gone, although she didn't test the theory by trying to move. She realised with disgust that she was afraid. When she finally worked up the courage to try to sit, she found she was Stuck to the bed. Someone didn't want her moving about, and at the moment, she was happy to oblige.

A few minutes later, a mediwitch came in and went to each of the beds in turn, waving her wand over the prone forms, then making notes in a small notebook that hovered beside her.

When she got to Minerva, she exclaimed, "Ah! Vous avez réveillé! Dites-moi, Mademoiselle McGonagall, comment vous sentez-vous?"

Minerva's brain felt sluggish, and she had trouble understanding the mediwitch's question. "I'm sorry . . . I don't . . ." she said.

"Oh, I am sorry, Mademoiselle . . . I forgot you are English. I asked 'ow you are feeling? Do you 'ave any pain?"

Minerva didn't correct the woman to tell her she was not English, thank you very much. "I feel much better, thank you. I'm not sure about pain . . . I haven't been able to move yet."

"That is very good, mademoiselle. You are not to move yet; that is why there is a Sticking Charm on you." She ran her wand over Minerva three times slowly, then, nodding with satisfaction, made her notes and walked out the door, saying, "I will send your 'ealer in to see you soon, mademoiselle."

When the Healer came in, he looked very pleased to see her awake and alert. "Well, Mademoiselle McGonagall! Your friends will be very glad to know you are awake!"

"My friends?"

"Oui. The gentleman who brought you and another one 'ave come by two times to look in on you and Mademoiselle Bones."

Minerva tried to remember . . . Oh! The Auror who brought them here and . . . who was the other? Auror McKinnon? Most likely.

"Can you tell me what happened to me?"

"I do not know 'ow you were injured, mademoiselle. Possibly you were caught in the Muggle fighting? We 'ave quite a few witches and wizards 'ere who 'ave been injured by that way."

"I meant, what were my injuries?"

"Ah, yes. Well, you 'ad several broken ribs and a punctured lung. You also 'ad a tear in your liver, and two smashed vertebrae. You are very lucky to be alive, Mademoiselle McGonagall."

"Yes, thank you for saving my life. How long will I be here?" she asked, not quite knowing where "here" was.

"Well, we 'ave repaired the lung and the liver, and we were able to re-grow the vertebrae. Your ribs will take a little longer to 'eal, and we want to make certain your spine is fully 'ealed before we let you go 'ome."

"Thank you, monsieur. Do you think you could release the Sticking Charm now? I promise not to move too much."

He gave a quick nod of his head and waved his wand, releasing her and saying, "I will give you something for pain now."

When Minerva started to remonstrate, he cut her off, "No, mademoiselle, please do not argue. You feel well now, but believe me, the pain will return when the potion you 'ad before wears off. I do not want you to injure yourself further by moving about because of pain."

Minerva dutifully swallowed the dropper-full of potion the Healer gave her.

When he had gone, she heard Amelia's voice from the next bed.

"Minerva, you're awake."

"Evidently."

"Thank Merlin. I didn't think you'd ever wake up," Amelia said, sitting up and looking over at her friend.

"Why? How long was I out?"

"I don't know exactly because they put me out shortly after I got here, but it's been two days that I know of."

"Two days!"

"Yes. Amazing, isn't it?"

Minerva gasped when she looked over at her friend, who chuckled at the reaction.

"I look a sight, don't I?"

"No, it isn't that . . . it's just . . ." The truth was that Amelia did look frightening. There were heavy bandages all around her head, and a large gauze dressing covered her left eye. Below the bandage resided a mass of cuts and bruises that made the left side of Amelia's face look like a grisly porridge.

"Don't lie to me, McGonagall, I know what I look like."

"You look like someone who's been in a fight."

"And lost."

"Did we lose?"

"How much do you remember?"

"Not much," admitted Minerva, although fragments of the incident were coming back.

"We were tracking a group of Blackrobes in the Ardennes. We figured they were hiding out there because of all the Muggle activity around. Anyway, something gave away our position, and they attacked. We were outnumbered, but we did manage to get three of them...bagged one myself," Amelia said with pride.

She continued, "Then the backups came in...McKinnon and the rest...and the Blackrobes must've panicked, because they started to run, and one of them used a Bombarda that uprooted a bunch of trees. You took a huge branch right in the belly, and I got nicked by a bunch of the debris. That's the long and the short of it."

"Was anyone killed?"

"We lost Johnson and O'Connor in the field. Everyone else is all right, says McKinnon," Amelia replied soberly.

The two women were quiet for a minute, then Minerva asked, "Are you all right, Amelia?"

"Oh, sure. They said the branch cracked my skull, and that's why they're keeping me here for a few more days, but I suspect it's just because that Froggy Healer likes to look at my tits."

"Well, we know that's not why they're keeping me. Not much to look at there."

"It's quality, not quantity, McGonagall. That's what counts," said Amelia. "Take it from a connoisseur of tits."

Minerva laughed, which hurt her ribs.

"Oh, sorry, Minerva," said Amelia when she saw her friend wince.

"It's all right. It's good to laugh."

"Anyway, it looks like we're both going to heal up fine. Except for my eye . . ." Amelia said.

"What about your eye?"

"Gone."

"What?"

"Now, don't get your tartan in a tangle, Miss McGonagall, but yeah, they couldn't save it. They say I can get a magical replacement when I get back to Mungo's. They won't do it here because they don't have a good supplier, and anyway, it will take a lot of therapy to get used to it. What do you think . . . should I get blue, or something else? Maybe green like yours. Might be fun to have a mismatched set . . ."

Minerva knew from Amelia's rapid-fire speech that she was putting up a brave front. Not that Amelia wasn't brave...she was that in spades...but Minerva was certain that her friend was worried that the loss of an eye would knock her out of the Auror programme for good.

She smiled at Amelia's banter, but inwardly she wept for her friend. Amelia had worked long and hard for her spot in the programme, and even harder once she was in. She was older than the other recruits because when she had applied right out of Hogwarts, they weren't taking witches.

So Amelia had decided to make herself a nearly irresistible candidate. She had spent two years studying with the best duelling master and Dark Arts scholars she could afford while working in a Diagon Alley apothecary. Then she had taken a year at the Salem Witches' Institute to study international magical law, selling the small house her grandmother had left her to finance her studies.

When she had come back to England, the situation on the Continent had escalated enough that the Auror programme was taking any comers who could meet the stringent requirements, regardless of gender.

She and Minerva had been assigned to a tent with Elizabeth Barnes, the only other female trainee. As the only women in a traditionally male field, they banded together, but Amelia and Minerva had become especially close. Minerva admired Amelia for her determination and liked her for her ready wit and her piercing intelligence.

"Maybe you can get an eye for each mood . . ." Minerva said, following Amelia's cue. If jokes were reassuring to her friend, then Minerva would joke.

Minerva and Amelia were both released two days later, and Auror Training Programme Director Abbott came to collect them.

"You'll come back to the office for debriefing," he told them. "Then I'll have someone Apparate you back to London."

When both women started to argue that they were perfectly capable of Apparating on their own, Abbott put up his hand, saying, "Enough. Auror-trainee McGonagall, Auror-trainee Bones, you will follow orders."

When they finally arrived at the Ministry in London, Minerva was surprised and delighted to find her father waiting for her.

As soon as she had stepped into the Auror Department office, Thorfinn pulled her into a tight embrace that hurt her still-sore ribs.

"Da, let go . . . you're hurting me!"

He released her, then wiped a large handkerchief across his face. "Och, I'm sorry, Minerva. I just couldn't help it. I'm so glad to see ye in a single piece."

Minerva put her arms around him, saying, "I'm glad to see you too. I've missed you terribly."

"Are ye really all right, Minerva?"

"Yes, Da. I'm just still sore is all, and they want me to have a rest before coming back."

"An' that ye will. I'm here to take ye home, and under strict orders to keep ye quiet for a month."

"A month!"

"Aye, and no complaints from you, lass. That Abbott fellow said he'd have me up on charges if I let ye go before you're fully healed, and I intend to take him at his word."

Out of the corner of her eye, Minerva caught sight of Amelia looking slightly uncomfortable.

"Oh, Da . . . I'd like you to meet Amelia Bones. Amelia, this is my father, Thorfinn McGonagall."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir," said Amelia.

"The pleasure is mine, Miss Bones," said Thorfinn. "Minerva's written to me about ye."

"Oh, dear," said Amelia.

Thorfinn laughed. "Not to worry, Miss Bones. Minerva thinks the world of ye."

"And I of her, sir," replied Amelia.

At that moment, the door opened, and an elegantly dressed witch with blonde hair and eyes the unusual shape and colour of Amelia's came in.

"Oh!" she said, clapping her hand over her mouth when she saw Amelia.

"Now, Mum," tutted Amelia. "Don't make a scene. My face will heal, my hair will grow, and I'm getting a brand new eye out of the bargain."

"I'm sorry, Amelia . . . it's just a shock," said the woman, moving to embrace her daughter.

When they broke, Amelia said, "Mum, this is Minerva McGonagall and her father, Thorfinn."

"Elisabeth Bones," said Madam Bones, offering her hand to Thorfinn, who shook it. "Delighted to meet you."

The four talked of this and that for a few minutes before going their separate ways.

That evening, after a long, celebratory dinner with her father and grandmother, Minerva was heading up to bed when her father said, "Nice family, those Boneses."

"Yes. I've really come to care for Amelia. She's become a good friend."

"Have you met her father?" asked Thorfinn, a bit too casually for Minerva to believe it was an idle question.

"No. I believe he died a few years ago. Why?"

"Oh, no reason. I just thought we might invite Amelia and her mother up for a weekend sometime."

"That would be nice, Da," Minerva said. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Minerva. Sleep well, my darling girl," he said, kissing her forehead.

Minerva climbed the stairs with a wry smile on her face and gladness in her heart at being alive and with the people she loved.