Chapter Twenty-Nine

"You're the only one who ever saw through me. Everyone else saw only what they wanted to see."

Minerva heard from Albus a month later.

Just as she was sitting down to a celebratory dinner at her family home...a dinner that included her father, brother, and grandmother, as well as Amelia and her mother, Elisabeth...a house-elf scurried into the dining room and dropped a letter next to Minerva's plate with a brief bow.

"Rather late for post," said Morna.

"Who's it from?" asked Einar.

His father gently reprimanded him. "Never mind at the moment. I'm sure Minerva will open it after we've eaten."

Minerva slipped the letter into her cardigan pocket. She had recognised the handwriting on the envelope immediately. Her heart was pounding, and she could barely swallow.

Thorfinn raised his glass. "To Minerva: for astonishing us yet again by becoming the youngest Animagus in more than fifty years."

Everyone toasted to a Minerva who was only half paying attention.

Dinner progressed agonisingly slowly, and afterwards, the group repaired to the library for brandy and conversation.

"Do it again," said Einar.

"I've done it three times already," said an exasperated Minerva. "I'd like to have my brandy now."

"Just once more. It's so bloody amazing!"

"Language, Einar," tutted Thorfinn.

"Sorry," Einar said, glancing at Amelia and Madam Bones. "I'm just excited."

"Well, it is quite exciting," said Elisabeth. "I don't believe there's ever been an Animagus in either the Cadwallader or Bones families. "You must be very proud of Minerva."

"Aye, I am," said Thorfinn. "She's worked very hard at this." Turning to Minerva, he gave her a wide grin and said, "Go on, lass ... just one more time, and we'll leave ye alone."

Minerva rolled her eyes, then shifted her focus into herself. A moment later, she was staring at her father's boots and catching the most distracting scent of rodent in the room as she switched her tail back and forth.

She popped back into her human form and, ignoring the applause, said, "We've got mice again," at which her delighted father threw back his head and roared with laughter.

"You know, you make a very attractive cat," said Amelia. "I hope this doesn't mean we're going to have scads of toms prowling about the flat at night."

Minerva smacked her on the arm for the remark at the same time Elisabeth said, "Oh, Amelia."

Elisabeth turned to Minerva, saying, "Those markings around your eyes are very unusual; I don't believe I've ever seen a tabby-pattern cat with anything similar."

"No," agreed Thorfinn, "I haven't either. Most interesting."

Finally, the little group broke up and headed up the stairs to their various bedrooms. Einar caught up with Minerva as they headed down the corridor, asking, "So who was the letter from?"

"I haven't opened it yet. And mind your own business."

"Tetchy." Einar headed off to his room.

Once Minerva had closed the door to her bedroom, she broke the seal on the envelope and opened the letter:

15 June 1945

Dear Minerva,

Professor Falco has written to inform me that you have passed your Animagus exam and are now the youngest registered Animagus he has ever tutored. Congratulations!

I know that you worked very hard to achieve this, and I hope you are as proud of yourself as I am of you. I never had any doubt that you would succeed in this, as in anything to which you turn your formidable mind and magic, and I am happy to find my prescience has not failed me. Use your new ability well.

I trust that you are well and happy, and that you are finding your work with the Ministry challenging and interesting.

Warmest regards,

Albus Dumbledore

What upset her most was his signing the note with his full name. It seemed so formal, as though nothing but the most superficial of cordialities had ever passed between them. It was as if, by the stroke of a quill, he was trying to Obliviate her memory of the intimacy they had shared.

What did you expect, Minerva? A mash note?

She wiped her sleeve across her traitorous, leaking eyes.

She almost destroyed the letter, but in the end, she slipped it into the charmed box with all his other notes and the charmed poetry journal she had locked away when she had decided to try to forget him.

After she had readied herself for bed and slid between the sheets, she put out the light and closed her eyes, but sleep eluded her. She briefly considered popping back into her Animagus form. She had found that her thoughts and emotions were blunted even as her senses were sharpened in her feline form. But she knew the dangers in allowing oneself to spend too much time in animal form. Professor Falco had warned, with unwonted sternness, of witches and wizards who had transformed and never come back, seduced, perhaps, by the simplicity of life as an animal or simply unable to retain enough human will and intention to change back. Minerva didn't want to abuse or test the boundaries of her newfound ability the first week after she had registered.

Eventually, she drifted off to sleep and dreamt, against her will, of Albus.

~oOo~

Months passed, then a year, and nothing happened. Minerva and Amelia continued with their training, and Minerva was sent out after several suspected unregistered Animagi. She caught two of the three...including the hog...and sustained a nasty gash in her leg trying to bring in the third. It healed, and she was eventually switched to helping Senior Auror McKinnon track and investigate suspected Dark objects that had been Transfigured. She didn't especially mind the change, because she was allowed to work on McKinnon's research into Transfiguration, which she found increasingly interesting.

Amelia continued to be stuck at a desk, which continued to irk her, but she didn't dare complain; at least she was still technically an Auror-in-training. In the evenings, she and Minerva plotted out what they would do if they ran the Auror Office, which, of course, was never going to happen. Hogwarts had had six headmistresses over its nearly thousand-year history, and the Wizengamot had finally seated its first female member in 1934, but some professions were still held out as the sole province of wizards. There had never been a full-fledged female Auror, and the very name of the elite Hit-Wizard Squad was an indication of the likelihood of Amelia or Minerva getting a toehold there. Running the place was a pipe dream neither would have spoken of to anyone else.

Then in July of 1946, something happened. Minerva returned home from the lab one Sunday to find Amelia in their sitting room dabbing a handkerchief to her good eye.

It alarmed Minerva, as Amelia was as stoical as anyone, and Minerva had never seen her weep. She went to her friend before even removing her cloak and sat down on the settee next to her.

"What's the matter?"

"I just talked to Mum," said Amelia, sniffling. "She's ill."

It was cancer...a legacy from Elisabeth's Muggle mother. Elisabeth had been to St Mungo's and to private Healers, and finally, to Muggle doctors, none of whom could offer much beyond vague assurances that there was "still some hope".

Elisabeth Bones was a practical woman and decided that the taste of false hope was bitter. She resigned herself to death and had told her daughter so.

Amelia later said that it had not surprised her. What did surprise her...surprised everyone, in fact...was that her mother married Thorfinn McGonagall.

It was a quiet affair in the Ministry register office, duplicated in the Muggle register office in Greenwich, where Elisabeth's parents had also been married. Minerva and Amelia were witnesses for both weddings, along with Einar and Amelia's younger brother, Edgar.

Elisabeth confided to Amelia that Thorfinn had asked her several times over the past year, but that she had only relented when she discovered the seriousness of her illness. She wanted no question in anyone's mind that Thorfinn McGonagall was entitled to make decisions for her when the time came. She didn't, she said, want to burden her children with it.

Minerva was both happy and worried for her father. He seemed elated, but the spectre of Elisabeth's death had to be at the forefront of his mind, Minerva thought. He had lost one wife already, and now he was poised...had willingly signed up...to lose another. When she cautiously asked him about it, he told her only that he was delighted to have whatever time was vouchsafed him with Elisabeth Bones-McGonagall and that he was prepared to help her die when the came time. But in the meantime, he said, he intended to make sure she lived.

So Amelia and her brother became part of Minerva's family. In later years, when Edgar married, he would name his first son after himself and his second son after his father and step-father.

The week after her father had married Elisabeth Bones, Minerva slipped away from the office on her lunch hour to try to find a suitable wedding gift for the couple. She was in Flourish and Blotts, browsing the poetry section, when she heard a familiar voice behind her that sent an unwelcome chill down her spine.

"Minerva, what a pleasure."

She turned to see Tom Riddle standing there, a toothy smile on his face and a clerk's tie around his neck.

She was immediately on her guard.

"Hello, Tom," she said, polite but unsmiling.

He moved closer to her, and she had to resist the impulse to take a step back.

He said, "I understand if you aren't exactly happy to see me. I've always been sorry that we didn't part as friends."

"We never were friends," she said.

His smile faltered only slightly, and he said, "I suppose not. But I wanted to be. Truly. I guess I didn't do a very good job of it."

Without another word, she turned back to the shelf she had been looking at and felt him move even closer.

"I've long wanted to apologise to you, Minerva. For what I did during the duelling final. You probably won't believe me, but I didn't intend it. It just sort of ... happened. And then when I saw..."

"I don't wish to discuss this with you."

His voice dropped to a whisper. "I swear I will never reveal to anyone what I know about you and Dumbledore." He put a gentle hand on her arm. "If you just give me a chance to apologise properly."

She turned to face him again. His eyes were full of honest-seeming concern and regret, but she wasn't fooled. She knew a threat when she heard one.

She focused on keeping her voice even as she said, "All right, Tom. What do you want?"

"Have dinner with me."

"No."

"Tea, then."

She sighed. "All right. Tea. I'm off on Saturday. Are you free then?"

"I will ensure that I am. Say, two o'clock at Fortescue's?"

"Not Fortescue's. There's a refreshment room in Victoria Station. Meet me there at two."

The slight quiver of distaste that passed over his lips was gratifying to her.

"Two o'clock," he confirmed with a quick nod of his head.

When she got to the refreshment room the following Saturday, he was already there, although she had come a few minutes early to try to collect herself before he arrived. As she had hoped, it was busy and bustling, and loud enough that nobody would overhear their conversation.

Tom stood when he saw her and moved around the table to hold her chair.

When they had ordered their tea...Tom requesting a plate of shortbread that Minerva didn't touch...Minerva asked, "Well, Tom, what did you want to say to me?" She tried not to sound too peevish; she was nervous about antagonising him too much.

"I just hoped we could clear the air a bit about what happened your last year at Hogwarts," he said. "I truly didn't intend to hurt you in any way. I suppose I was just jealous of Dumbledore. I liked you very much, and I wanted so badly for you to like me too. Looking back, I suppose I tried too hard. I must have seemed pathetic."

"No," she said. "Not pathetic."

Taking her words as a positive sign, he gave her a smile and continued. "I never intended to perform Legilimency on you, Minerva. Never. But when I looked in your eyes during the duel, it just happened."

His tone turned confessional. "I had been working on it secretly, you see. Foolish, I know, but there it is. I was so hungry to learn advanced magic, and I had been trying it over summers for several years. But I didn't have good control. There weren't too many people to practice with. I was just so interested in you and frustrated that you didn't like me."

He paused for a few seconds, gauging her reaction. She was careful not to betray anything by her expression.

He continued, "It's fair to say I was shocked by what I found out. I think you can understand that. I was also angry and jealous. I don't like to admit that to you, but it's the truth. I was angry at him for taking advantage of you like that. And to be honest, I was angry at you for letting it happen. That's why I behaved as I did. I'm not proud of it, and I wish I could take it all back, but I can't. All I can do is apologise and assure you that your secret is safe. I won't betray your trust, Minerva."

She spoke carefully. "I appreciate that, Tom. Thank you for your explanation and apology."

He gave her his dazzling smile and changed the subject. "So, you're working at the Ministry now? As an Auror?"

"An Auror-trainee for another year, yes."

"That must be fascinating."

"It has its moments. And you? What have you been doing since leaving school?" She didn't really want to know, but she felt she should try to keep the interview cordial.

"I've been working at Borgin and Burkes," he said.

She didn't bother asking why Hogwarts's golden boy was working as a clerk in a dingy and disreputable shop.

"Do you still see anyone from Hogwarts?" he asked.

"Only the people in training with me. I didn't know any of them especially well at school, though."

They made more feeble small talk for a few minutes before Minerva found a good moment to excuse herself.

As they parted, Tom took her hand and gave it a squeeze. She had to fight with herself not to wipe it on her robes to rid herself of his touch.

"I enjoyed seeing you again, Minerva. I'm glad we had a chance to clear the air."

She gave him a grim smile and turned to go. He caught her arm, saying, "Do you think I might see you again?"

"It isn't a good idea, Tom."

"Oh. All right. Well, good afternoon, then."

She nodded and walked off. If she had seen the look on his face as he stared after her, she might not have slept as well as she did that night.

~oOo~

Still so haughty.

He wasn't surprised. She had always thought herself too good for him, and now that he was a lowly clerk at Borgin and Burkes, he didn't expect that to change.

He had hoped that the time that had passed since the duelling incident and its aftermath might have blunted some of her animosity, but it clearly wasn't the case.

What surprised him was how much he still wanted her. He had long ago, perhaps as early as his third year at Hogwarts, determined that Minerva McGonagall was the most powerful person he had met, witch or wizard, save for himself and Dumbledore. As his hatred for the old Deputy Headmaster and his outdated and useless scruples had grown, the more firmly Tom had decided he needed Minerva on his side, if only to deprive the old man of her power. Because it would ultimately come down to a fight between him and the old man, just as it had for Gellert Grindelwald. Nobody else had the power, and once Tom had completed his transformation, even Dumbledore would be unable to touch him. Minerva could help him, with her power and her talent for Transfiguration. Tom was drawn to her power like a Niffler to gold. But he wanted her the way a wizard wants a witch, too. Yes, that surprised him. It wasn't as if he were lacking in pleasant female company.

His charm had served as a subtle flyswatter, batting lesser beings out of his way as he moved inexorably toward greatness. He had hoped it might lure Minerva in, but it had never worked on her as it had on almost everyone else. Nor had contrition, a tack he had found worked surprisingly well with adult witches, even after he had hurt them. But not with Minerva, apparently. No matter. He had other tricks up his sleeve.

Redemption, for example. A witch like Minerva would likely find the opportunity to Save Tom Riddle from Darkness almost irresistible. Gryffindors never could pass up the chance at some facile heroics.

And if that didn't work, well ... she was frightened of him, that much was clear. And a bit of sleuthing around had told him that she no longer had Dumbledore to hide behind. He had apparently dropped her like an old slag once she'd left Hogwarts and hadn't gone near her since.

She was vulnerable now, and he would take advantage of it.

~oOo~

Minerva was angry but not surprised when notes from Tom Riddle began to appear, first at the flat, then at her office. They were always brief and complimentary, and always ended with a plea to allow him to see her. She began to return the notes unopened, which annoyed the owls no end.

He accosted her one evening after she had stayed late at the lab, stepping suddenly in beside her as she rounded the corner to head to the Muggle chip shop down the street.

"Tom! You..."

"You returned my owls," he said, not bothering to mask the anger in his voice. "That wasn't very nice of you."

Her heart rate increased as she glanced around the dark and deserted street. Her hand itched to feel for her wand in her pocket, but she kept it relaxed.

"I thought I made it clear that we had nothing more to say to one another," she said.

He caught her arm as she turned to go, but his grip was gentle. "Minerva, please. I need you to help me. I think you're the only one who can."

She turned back.

He said, "You're the only one who ever saw through me. Everyone else saw only what they wanted to see."

She said nothing but made no move to go.

"I don't think it will be any surprise to you if I tell you that I've dabbled in the Dark Arts. I was terrified of not fitting in, of having everyone discount me because I came from a Muggle orphanage, and it was such an easy way to win admiration in Slytherin. I was arrogant. I thought I could control it, that I could bend the Dark Arts to my will, for good. But it got perverted somewhere. I suppose it always does. And then it was just hard to make things right again ... to get clean. I'm trying, though. But I need help. I need someone to guide me, to show me the right way to harness my power. You've had help, Minerva, all the way down the line from your family to Professor Dumbledore. I never had that. I was always too proud to ask for it. Until now. So I'm asking: Minerva, please help me."

He was very, very good, and she was almost taken in. When she felt her face relax and tears prick at the corners of her eyes, though, she caught a glimpse of the too-familiar predatory gleam in his.

"I don't believe you," she said.

"Minerva..."

"If you're so anxious to leave the Dark Arts behind, why are you working in a shop that traffics in Dark objects?"

"It wasn't my first choice. To tell the truth, I was offered a position at the Ministry, as a junior assistant to the Minister. But I turned it down. I didn't trust myself to be that close to so much power. The job with Borgin and Burkes was arranged by a Slytherin friend. I didn't really have a lot of options."

"If you are at Borgin and Burkes, Tom, I expect it is because that is exactly where you want to be."

"So you're saying you won't help me?"

"You don't really want my help. I've no doubt you want something, but help isn't it. Either way, I can't give you what you want. Please let me alone."

The change in him was chilling. It was as if a glamour had suddenly been removed from his face, but it was no magic. He looked hard and almost without animation behind his stony features. She could have sworn she saw a red glint behind his eyes.

"As you wish, Minerva. I'll let you be ... for now. But we'll meet again. Count on it."

It was the only thing he ever said that she believed.