The Hardships of Leadership

The Hardships of Leadership – Chapter four

Minerva sat casually on her broom about forty feet up from the center of the Quidditch pitch with a moderate-sized, garnet-colored sack in her lap. Her broom had metallic stirrups that she took advantage of, sitting comfortably, drawing her knees up close to her body. She glanced to her right and watched the Gryffindor Chasers and Keeper practicing goal shots for a few moments before being joined in the air by her Seeker teammates. Her cousin Sara had just scored a shot on teammate Alastor and was goading the Keeper with flamboyant dives in and around the goalposts.

The senior Seeker, Williams, and the reserve, third-year Seeker, Clandallin, rose up to meet their captain mid-air. Minerva reached into the cloth sack and drew out two smaller bags, handing one to each of them. The dark-haired Williams groaned as he accepted his bag.

"Not Snitch practice again," he whined, tying the bag's drawstrings around his belt and clucking his tongue in contempt. "We do this every practice! I can catch a bloody Snitch!"

Minerva rolled her eyes. She was not in the mood.

"And what would you suggest a Seeker practice then: goal shots, Bludger toss?" Satisfied when Williams ceased complaining, she turned her attention back to the younger boy. Taking a white golf ball out of the large sack, she tossed it in the air and immediately caught it with the same hand.

"I'm going to make this simple. I've got forty golf balls here. I'm going to throw them, one by one, around the field. I won't throw another until the ball in the air is either caught or on the ground. Once I run through the entire sack, whoever has the most balls, without retrieving any from the ground, will play against Ravenclaw tomorrow." She dropped the ball she was holding back into her sack and withdrew her wand from a pocket inside her jacket. Like her male teammates, Minerva wore trousers, tunic, and a sweater for Quidditch practice. The cold February night would have been very uncomfortable had she not cast a Warming Charm on her sweater and trousers.

Williams retorted loudly, "You've got to be kidding me! I've been on this team for four years! You're actually going to start Clandallin? Over me?" The thin seventh-year shifted on his broom so that he could face Minerva, anger dominating his face.

Minerva proceeded to cast a Disillusionment Charm on her broom, then on herself. She was now mostly invisible, although, while she was stationary, her teammates could still see the odd shimmer of colors that kept the Disillusionment Spell from making her completely invisible. "You heard what I said, Clay. The last few practices, you've been slouching. You're off your game. We talked about this already, and I'm not going to go over it again." She paused, half expecting Williams to continue to protest. "Now, after we start moving around, you shouldn't be able to see me, so focus on the in-bounds area above the field. I've charmed the balls so they have much greater reach than usual, so don't be surprised if you have to chase one to the end of the field. I'll announce when I'm going to throw the first one, but after that, you're on your own. Remember, I won't throw another ball while one is in the air." Leaning back on her broom, Minerva pulled back, rose in the air a few feet, then shot forward and raced away from her teammates. She felt the sharp sting of sleet on her face. The normal drizzly Scotland rain was freezing.

The two Seekers separated, each moving toward opposite ends of the pitch. Minerva flew between her teammates and watched them. When she was satisfied that they had completely lost her position, she stationed herself between them and announced she was about to throw the first ball.

Minerva took care to throw the balls randomly, making sure she didn't favor one Seeker over the other. She flew around the field, tossing balls in various directions, some above her teammates, some below, and she made sure she gave them time to recover after they had caught or lost a ball on the field. During the practice, she couldn't always see who caught what, but she was impressed by Clandallin's swift dives and sharp turns. The third-year was covering the field well. She would be very surprised if Williams had caught more than the younger player, and after her bag was empty, she withdrew her wand and canceled the Disillusionment Charm, revealing herself, and appeared over Williams' right shoulder.

"We're done, Darwin," she called out loudly in Clandallin's direction, as he was about twenty yards away. "Let's meet on the ground for a count, then I'm going to have you both work with the Beaters for a while." Minerva explained, descending to the field. Clandallin followed with enthusiasm, clearly excited at the possibility of playing in his first game. Williams followed Minerva, but instead of handing her his bag, he threw it at her as he dismounted his broom and walked off the field toward the locker room.

Minerva stood, holding the Snitch sack, and sighed, watching Williams stomp off.

That didn't go well.

Darwin dismounted next to his team captain and offered up his sack. Minerva didn't have to count the balls to know the younger player had more. The weight difference was significant. Just to make sure, she first counted Williams' collection. Four. She then counted Clandallin's. Thirteen. She looked down at the bushy-haired boy, whose eyes were locked on her hands as she counted, then gave him a wink, and he burst into a wide grin.

"Excellent work, Darwin. Your turning is much, much better, and you cover the field well. You'll be starting in the game tomorrow." She put the smaller sacks into the larger Snitch sack and uttered an wandless Accio for the remaining balls on the field. "Watch out, now," she advised as several golf balls came sailing toward her from various directions. Clandallin laid his broom down and swiftly gathered up golf balls, aiding Minerva with the task.

The younger boy looked up at Minerva apprehensively after handing her the last of the balls. "Um ... Captain?"

"Yes?"

"Well ... Clay seems upset about, well ... about me taking his spot." He shied away from eye contact and looked down at the old broom in his hand.

Minerva tossed the Snitch sack over her shoulder with her right hand while she leaned her broom against a bench. She wiped her face with the back of her arm as the shards of sleet melted and began dripping down her forehead.

"Listen, Darwin, because this is important." She paused and waited for him to look up at her. "This is a team. We play for our House, for Gryffindor. Nobody on this team has their own spot. Its a privilege to play for Gryffindor, not a right." She motioned to Rodriquez, one of the Beaters, as he flew by, and waved him toward her. "Sebastian, get Stewart and join Darwin and me here, would you?"

After the Beater flew off toward his partner, she turned her attention back to the ginger-haired Seeker.

"If someone isn't playing up to their ability, for whatever reason, and another teammate is playing better, would it not be logical to have the stronger player in game?" To this, Darwin nodded 'yes,' and she continued. "Don't consider the Seeker position as belonging to Williams. Just like it's not yours. Similarly, captain isn't mine. I may need to step down tomorrow, and I will if that is what's best."

Darwin thought about that for a moment and couldn't imagine any scenario, other than an injury, in which Gryffindor would benefit from Minerva McGonagall relinquishing her position as captain. Though he'd tried out for Seeker the previous year, he'd not been selected and had given up hope for try-outs this year. Had it not been for Minerva's encouragement, he wouldn't have tried out again, resigning any hope that he'd be good enough to secure a spot on the team. In his eyes, Captain McGonagall was a titan. The fastest nonprofessional Chaser he'd ever seen and completely comfortable in command of the field and her team. In his opinion, nothing could bring her down.

"We're a team, and the whole point of participating is to do our best for our House. Williams is off his game. Simple as that. If he gives you any grief, tell me. Understand? I'm not tolerating any harassment of my players," she explained, and the young Clandallin felt comforted in the idea that he was one of her players.

Darwin, wide-eyed, nodded up at her and thanked her. She felt oddly affectionate toward this youngster who seemed so appreciative of her confidence and approval. Uncharacteristically, she reached out and ruffled his hair, causing Darwin to break into a shy grin and stare at his feet.

"You'll do fine tomorrow. Just remember: trust the Beaters to keep you safe, and concentrate on finding the Snitch. Don't worry about anything other than that tiny, golden ball."

Darwin relaxed as Rodriguez and Stewart joined them down on the field, and Minerva assigned the Beaters to teach their new Seeker some Bludger defense maneuvers. She looked toward the locker room, contemplating going after Williams, and thought better of it. She had tried to talk to him on Wednesday, with little success, and he certainly didn't seem receptive to her advice now.

Mounting her broom, Minerva lifted off to join her teammates by the goalposts. The two other starting Chasers, Sara MacGruder and Roland McCreedy, took a Quaffle and flew across the field to work on passing techniques while Minerva and fifth-year back-up Chaser, Gloria Greenwood, shot goals against Alastor Moody. Minerva spent the next forty minutes racing in and around the goalposts, trying desperately to score against Alastor, but was only able to make one shot. She wasn't sure if she was more impressed with Alastor's tenacity at defense or disappointed in her own inability to score. One thing was for certain, however; Ravenclaw was going to have one hell of a time trying to gain points against the Gryffindor Keeper.

When Minerva finally dismounted her broom and walked toward the locker room, she was peeling off her sweater, she was so hot. Despite the near-freezing temperature of the early Scotland evening, she was sweltering. A cool shower would be glorious. She saw Sir Nicholas glide over the pitch and disappear into the darkness toward the castle. So he meant it when he said he was going to watch Gryffindor practice! Strange.

"Minerva! Hey, wait! Minerva!" It was Alastor, striding toward her, helmet still on and broom in hand. "Hey! You ever going to tell me what happened between you and Riddle?" This time, he lowered his voice as he neared. Apparently, even he had some understanding of the delicacy of the situation.

Minerva shook her hair out of the bun she had it in for practice and ran her hand through it. She was tired and simply wanted a shower, not to answer a barrage of questions. Shaking her head and letting her long hair bounce over her shoulders and down her back, she answered him.

"I'm taking a shower–"

"Yeah? Can I watch?" He grinned at her and unbuckled his helmet.

She gave him a sharp glare and snorted before turning away, heading toward the locker room.

"Oi, I was just joking! Seriously, Minerva, you going to tell me what happened?" Alastor pleaded and trotted up beside her as she opened the door.

"If you want to walk back with me after I get cleaned up, I'll tell you, but I have an appointment with Professor Dumbledore before dinner, so I don't have much time." She entered the building and veered off to the left; to the girls' lavatory.

"All right." Alastor looked around. "I guess the rest of the team is cleaning up in Gryffindor tower. I'll shower too and meet you here. Walk you back?" he asked while flicking his wand at his broom locker and opening it.

Minerva nodded in agreement and whispered the password to the girls' lavatory.

When Minerva emerged twenty minutes later in heavy, green tartan skirts and a thick, woolen sweater, her hair was wet and combed back, and she had a towel wrapped around her neck. Alastor was waiting for her on a bench beside the entrance door. When he saw her emerge from the door of the girls' lavatory, he smiled and stood, and then held the door open for her as she approached.

The drizzly rain that had begun during practice had dissipated, and the air temperature was dropping. Minerva shivered and cast a Warming Charm on her towel and wrapped it loosely around her head like a hood. Alastor began shivering almost as soon as they started across the pitch, and Minerva cast a Warming Charm on his jacket.

"Thanks. I need to learn how to do that."

"Alastor – this morning at breakfast – your comment about Professor Dumbledore–" Minerva began, but her companion interrupted her.

"Oh come on! I was joking! Dammit, can't anyone take a joke?" He immediately went on the defense.

Minerva stopped, giving him a withering look, and Alastor shrugged his shoulders.

"What? I stuck my foot in it, all right? Why you still pissy about that?" He pleaded.

Minerva sighed with aggravation and shook her head. "Did you ever consider someone might overhear you?"

"The hell kind of question is that? Of course not! Obviously, since Dumbledore heard me himself! Come on, you're beating a dead horse!" he grumbled loudly, obviously embarrassed.

"Well then, if you never considered someone overhearing you, then you likely didn't consider the complications and possible detriment a rumor like that could cause Professor Dumbledore." Minerva could see the slow dawn of understanding on Alastor's face and she continued. "Imagine what would happen to him if somebody malicious, someone like Riddle, overheard that and decided to make trouble for our Head of House. A rumor like that could cause Dumbledore to lose his job!"

Alastor's shoulders drooped, and he hung his head. He had never considered anything of the sort, and the realization that he could, indeed, have cost their professor his job actually scared him.

"I didn't think–" he started, but was cut off by Minerva's sharp brogue.

"Exactly! You don't think! You just mouth off!" She glared at him hard and poked him in the chest. "I don't particularly like the insinuations you make about me, and I can almost tolerate your childish teasing, but to direct that at a teacher ... whose reputation could be destroyed by one well-placed rumor? How would you like to be responsible for Professor Dumbledore losing his job and having his reputation questioned? Or how about me? I'm sure that would look great on my resume – M. D. M. McGonagall slept with professor for good marks! Honestly Alastor! The damage you could do with so few words ..." She decided from his reaction that her admonishment had struck an understanding and she curbed her tongue.

Alastor was feeling absolutely deplorable now. His mind was creating various images: pictures of Minerva and their Transfiguration professor on the front page of the Daily Prophet with the words "Dumbledore Sacked for Shagging Underage Student" in giant letters beneath it and he felt queasy.

"I'm sorry, all right. I didn't think. I never – never thought about it that way," he voiced softly and ashamedly. "I like Professor Dumbledore, you know."

Minerva turned and started making her way back across the Quidditch pitch toward the castle. "I don't need your apology, though I appreciate it. I understand you well enough to know it wasn't intentional. I do think you owe Professor Dumbledore an apology, however."

Alastor didn't respond to her suggestion and walked along with Minerva quietly for a few minutes. When she didn't broach the question that he had asked her before their showers, he spoke up.

"You going to tell me about Riddle?" he prodded.

Minerva sighed and tried to conceal her emotions. She knew if she told him the truth, the complete truth, he'd do something stupid. Maybe stupid enough to lose his prefect status, his dueling club membership, or even his position on the Quidditch team. She didn't think he'd do anything foolish enough to be expelled, but knowing Alastor, anything was possible. After four years of near constant companionship, she knew his temper. She would have to explain the event truthfully, but carefully.

"We were practicing our dueling–" she began.

"You can practice with me! You don't have to work with that arsehole," Alastor interrupted forcefully.

Minerva continued, ignoring his remark. "Riddle disarmed me, and after he did so, he proceeded to Petrify me and Silence me."

"After he disarmed you? He did that?" Alastor had stopped and grabbed Minerva's arm, forcing her to break her stride as well. His voice was steady, but she could hear his anger building. Minerva nodded and gently tugged her arm back from his grasp.

"Mmmhrm. That's when I managed to throw him into a tree and set him on fire." They had now reached the narrow stone path that wound down from the castle. "That's what all the fuss was about. The Headmaster was trying to decide if I had broken any rules, or some such, and if I should be punished. I think my expulsion was considered, actually." Alastor stopped but didn't reach for Minerva this time. He stood quietly a few moments, head bowed, thinking.

Minerva stopped and turned back toward him. His silence worried her.

"Obviously, I'm fine. Dumbledore made sure I came out clean as a whistle." She tried to placate him. "Come on, I've got to see him before dinner, and we're short on time."

Alastor rubbed his forehead. "Something ain't adding up here, Minerva. How did you toss him, break his leg, and set him on fire without a wand?"

"Fear." As if that explained everything. "A reaction. My magical reflexes. I wasn't aware I was doing it at the time," she answered and tilted her head toward the looming castle above them, urging him to resume his pace.

"Yeah, I understand innate magic. Still, that's pretty impressive stuff – though we're talking about you so, I guess I shouldn't be surprised." He paused, thinking again, and didn't make any motion to continue toward the castle. Alastor looked up at her as she stood ahead on the path, and she had the impression that he suspected she wasn't being entirely truthful. "What I don't understand ... what doesn't mesh ... is why you were scared," he paused, "you're not scared of anything."

Minerva turned to avoid his gaze and resumed her pace. She heard Alastor's steps on the pathway behind her and she quickened her step.

"Minerva ... what aren't you telling me?" he persisted, catching up with her, and Minerva cursed inwardly. "What else did he do?"

"Alastor – leave it alone. Professor Dumbledore took care of it. The Headmaster made his decision. Riddle was punished." She quickened her pace and heard him do the same, now nearly on her heels.

"Minerva! What did he do?" he demanded, keeping pace beside her, studying her face as they walked.

Minerva stopped suddenly and glared down at him, thankful for the large stone step she was standing on that gave her a slight height advantage. She kept her voice low and steady, willing herself to remain calm.

"I'm only going to say this once, and you can take it or leave it, I don't care. Riddle cheated. He pinned me down unfairly. I had a magical reaction, unintentional though it was. I made it back to the castle, wand in hand. The gamekeeper was able to get Riddle out of the tree, so he wasn't permanently harmed. I'm fine and it's over. I will not be practicing with Riddle again, and I'll be happy to practice with you if you like, but I am done discussing this!" By the time she was halfway through her speech, her thick, Scottish brogue was at full tilt.

As they arrived back at the castle, Alastor was fuming angry, feeling that Minerva was lying to him, at least partially. Not only was he upset that she didn't trust him with the truth, he was upset because she seemed to be protecting Riddle. He got the notion that Dumbledore knew more about the event than Minerva disclosed. How could she trust a professor more than a friend?

True, she wasn't male, but Alastor had always considered McGonagall as his best mate – ever since their third year when they had made the Quidditch team and joined the dueling club. Later she started helping him with Transfiguration studies, and he aided her with Defense skills. Their time spent together increased during their fifth year when they were announced as Gryffindor prefects. And of course, she was in all of his classes. He was her teammate, her Prefect double, her dueling buddy and study partner. She was probably the best friend he'd ever had and she didn't trust him, he thought miserably.

When they stepped inside the castle, Minerva turned to head to Gryffindor tower, but turned back to tell Alastor she'd meet him at Gryffindor's table for dinner later. She was surprised when he ignored her and quickened his pace into the Great Hall.