One

Many thanks to my beta, Soul Bound.

Professor McGonagall lifted her head up with relief at the cracking of an Apparation, relieved that Hermione had actually arrived and relieved that she was finally able to move her cold, stiff body. Sitting and waiting were not her strongest qualities, Professor McGonagall acknowledged candidly. She suppressed an unyouthful groan as she stood and moved towards the dark figure under the shadow of a tree. It was these moments of bodily discomfort that still surprised Professor McGonagall and told her with complete honesty of her advancing years.

The young hooded woman in front of her turned and smiled openly. 'Professor McGonagall!' she exclaimed in obvious delight.

'Hermione.' Professor McGonagall was struck by how radiant she was.

Hermione stepped closer, as if out of habit, to press foreheads in the traditional Southern greeting of friends and almost tipped Professor McGonagall's pointed black hat to the ground. Professor McGonagall smiled, held her hat with one hand to secure it and leant in to press foreheads with the young woman. She smelt an exotic fragrance about the young witch.

'Well met, My Teacher. I hope I find you well despite these trying times.'

Professor McGonagall noted that Hermione uttered the greeting fluently in the Ancient Tongue, so she breathed in and hesitantly spoke the traditional reply, 'Welcome, My Student, you will find warmth and protection in my home and hearth.'

'I'd forgotten about the hat, sorry.' Hermione spoke slowly at first in English, looking abashed.

Professor McGonagall dismissed it with a wave of her hand, while draping another long, heavy cloak over the young woman's shoulders.

'Thank you, that's thoughtful of you.'

'It is cooler here than where you have come from, I would imagine. You are positively radiant, Hermione. It is so nice to see you again after all these years, despite these sad circumstances. Come, let us get moving and get out of this chill.'

It was true, thought Professor McGonagall as they started walking together up the path; Hermione looked so different from when they last met. Not that she had not been pretty when she was younger, Professor McGonagall hastily thought, but it was not what you noticed about her. It was her sharp intelligence that stood out. She looked at the girl and pondered. No, it was not just the young witch's physical appearance she was sensing. The Professor's normally quick assessment of people was momentarily stumped. Then Professor McGonagall felt it like an elusive scent; it was something strange, something she had not felt in a long time. It was both dark and light, repellant and compelling. What was it? And then her all-powerful memory supplied it for her: Hermione was involved in the enigmatic circle of the south. She had only ever felt it once before but was certain she was right. The Professor also felt an overwhelming sense of relief that she had made the right decision all those years ago to introduce the young girl to her sister. It had been something that nagged her on many a sleepless night, even though the rare bits of news about Hermione that she received over the years were always positive. Now she truly understood how positive. It also explained the sudden circumspection regarding the young witch in her sister's otherwise chatty owls; she felt a flash of annoyance at her sister's lack of faith in her. But this was indeed an unexpected turn of events, and Professor McGonagall knew Hermione would have to proceed carefully.

They turned the corner, and Professor McGonagall slowed as Hermione's step faltered and heard a sharp intake of breath. Hogwarts stood in majestic splendor in front of them, lights glowing warmly from its windows. She saw a play of emotions over Hermione's face and knew these coming days would not be easy on her.

'It is an impressive sight, isn't it? I cannot help but admire it every time I walk this path,' Professor McGonagall said softly.

'I'd forgotten how truly beautiful Hogwarts is,' Hermione stated with awe, tucking a stray, brown lock of hair back under her hood.

As they continued walking up the path, a chill wind picked up, and Professor McGonagall drew her cloak in closer around her.

'I saw your sister last week. She was talking about coming to visit you this summer if she finds an apprenticeship for Triton before then,' Hermione lightly said.

'That would be wonderful. We really have not seen enough of each other. I do miss her.' said Professor McGonagall. 'How is Triton?'

'I thought he seemed a lot better in himself the last time I saw him. He's still quiet but not so sad. Athena said, and I agree, it would be very good for him to get an apprenticeship. There are some available a few miles down the river at the boat builders.'

'Young men's hearts are far more fragile than you think, and of course they do everything in their considerable power to hide that very fact. I have seen it time and time again here at Hogwarts,' Professor McGonagall observed. 'Yes, I could see him do well as a boat builder's apprentice. He was always good with his hands when he was younger.'

'And Ron, tell me what happened,' Hermione inquired carefully, glancing up hesitantly.

The Professor sighed deeply. 'It is still all so uncertain, but it happened when he was going down to London...' Professor McGonagall brought a lacy white handkerchief and quickly dabbed her eyes under her wire-framed glasses. She noticed Hermione rub her face briskly, so she put a comforting arm on her slim shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze. Hermione returned the slightest smile, her brown eyes huge with yet to be shed tears.

'Tell me everything. I need to know what's been going on. I feel I've walked back into a play several acts on and I've forgotten my lines. There is so much I don't know,' the hooded figure said sadly but with firmness in her voice.

There were not many people Professor McGonagall would trust with the undiluted truth of events, but Hermione was certainly amongst those few. Still, out of force of habit, the older woman weighed up what to say before speaking.

'We had known Ron was a target for a long time - as you would have been if you had been here. He was greatly outnumbered, and there was no way he could have survived. The latest report indicates there were at least ten Death Eaters involved in the attack, and it was extremely well planned. They had followed him for a considerable distance and knew precisely when to strike. He was hit with eighteen different types of curses and hexes and was left to die. Luckily he was found not long after.'

'Oh, poor Ron. He would have hated those last moments so much,' sobbed Hermione, her cheeks blotchy with emotion.

'It truly is a tragedy,' said Professor McGonagall, softly stroking Hermione on the arm, trying to give some comfort.

'Why, I mean, how did it happen?' Hermione questioned desperately through sniffs.

'We are not even sure at this point how Voldemort knew where Ron would be. Ron was considered high risk, and we had a small group whose sole job was to protect him. But it was difficult because at the same time we also had to allow him to have as normal life as possible, given the circumstances.'

'It would have been a balancing act,' Hermione agreed gently.

'Yes, but we are now left with uncertainty. Maybe we could have done more? Perhaps we made a crucial mistake somehow, or maybe we did not follow up on the right leads? I do not know the answer at the moment, but I do know that all of these questions will be closely looked at over the next couple of weeks. I need answers.'

'Do you think someone in the Order leaked where Ron would be?' ventured Hermione, her brow furrowed.

'I can never be one hundred percent certain. This is one of the many areas we will be looking into carefully. But at the same time, I do not want some hot head starting a revenge-fuelled inquisition either. Right now that would be one of the worst-case scenarios. Target a scapegoat and that is the quickest way to send them over to the other side with all our information. So publicly, at least, we will be playing it down.'

'Do you know why he was going to London?' Hermione probed, her eyes watching the Professor keenly.

'Oh, yes. Ron is – I mean was,' she sniffed, 'our main strategist for the Order. Ginny is the other one, and he was going down to London for a meeting.'

'Wow, a strategist,' exclaimed Hermione in surprise. She cocked her head to one side and added, 'That actually makes sense.'

'Yes, he was absolutely brilliant. I would say he single handedly prevented more deaths than anyone else in the Order,' declared the Professor proudly. 'He was able to work out patterns from the scrappiest bits of information. It was an honour watching him work and seeing how he could connect the different leads together.'

'Yeah, I remember how he used to be at least five moves ahead of me when we played chess.' Hermione chuckled fondly.

They continued walking up the path; the night was drawing in and the cold becoming more pronounced.

'The years you were away have not been easy, Hermione. I do not think there is a wizarding family that has not been touched by tragedy one way or another in this dreadful war. I went to Diagon Alley last week and saw fear and sadness everywhere on the faces of the people. I always worried Voldemort wanted to weaken us by disrupting the fabric of our society, and when I saw those faces, well, he may be succeeding. It is sometimes so difficult to counter it, but it is important we do. If we do not, then he has essentially won, hasn't he? It is why it is important to keep Hogwarts open.'

'It's like a symbol,' Hermione quickly observed.

'Exactly, like a symbol of continuity,' the Professor confirmed, pleased with Hermione's astuteness.

'Are you having difficulty keeping Hogwarts open?

'No, we get continual pressure from the Ministry, but that is nothing new. It has been going on for at least four hundred years. I think the vast majority of wizarding families want Hogwarts to stay open - it represents normality to them. And besides which, their children are probably safer here than most other places,' Professor McGonagall concluded with a shrug.

'Besides the South of course,' countered Hermione wryly, eyes twinkling brighter because of the tears.

'You are right there. Old habits die hard I suppose,' the Professor affirmed regrettably.

'And Voldemort?' the young witch asked again with typical directness.

'People can say what they like about him, but over and above everything, he is a clever tactician. He did what we did not expect and drew the battle out, then scattered it amongst us.'

'No single battle between Harry and Voldemort?'

'No. That was why the early years were such a struggle, because all our planning had been focussed on orchestrating one. We could not read what Voldemort was doing correctly. It was Ron, actually, who worked it out before anyone else. Then we had to spend a ridiculous amount of time trying to convince the Order we were right. What a waste of precious time and lives that was. It was so frustrating trying to change a group of people who do not like change of any sort. The single battle is something, I believe, Voldemort does not want. But then you never know. Just when you think you understand or firm up an idea about him, he will switch tactics.'

The Front Entrance loomed above them like a gaping mouth, and Professor McGonagall gave Hermione a friendly pat and withdrew her arm. She slid automatically into her Headmistress persona that she needed to have about her - more for what others expected than for herself, she thought truthfully.

'The students will be in the Great Hall finishing dinner, I would imagine. They usually linger on Fridays, chatting - as you would know,' she said with a small smile. 'I will show you to your rooms, where you can unpack, and then we can meet again later in my rooms for a light supper. 'The Sitting' is at the Burrow tonight, and the service is tomorrow at ten. We can leave together to go to the Burrow if you want after supper.'

'I'd like that very much,' Hermione replied and followed the headmistress up the stairs.

===

Professor McGonagall rose from her armchair next to the fire when she heard a knock on the door. She opened it to a pleased but chilled looking Hermione stamping her feet to keep warm.

'This is a surprise. I was just coming to get you.'

'Good Evening, Professor McGonagall, I can't believe I found my way here - I didn't even have to ask a portrait,' the young witch said, her teeth chattering. 'Oh, Merlin, this castle is cold.'

'Come in, come in. I am not really surprised you remembered, with your memory. Would you like something to drink?' The Professor led her towards the pair of plush red armchairs in front of the fireplace.

'Actually, what I'd really like is a cup of tea - I've been up since four this morning. Also, I don't want to start on anything stronger now because I'm sure it will be flowing tonight,' Hermione commented with a grin.

'You read my thoughts exactly.' The Professor nodded at her cup of tea on the coffee table as she lowered herself back into her chair. Hermione sat down gratefully in the opposite chair, holding her hands near the fire, clearly enjoying its warmth. Professor McGonagall clapped her hands, and a matching fine boned cup and saucer materialized. Hermione looked momentarily startled, and Professor McGonagall remembered the southern tradition of not using magic with food or drink. In light of that, she leant down and picked up the teapot being kept warm next to the roaring fire and poured Hermione a cup of hot, strong tea.

'I see you found the extra cloaks I took the liberty of putting in your wardrobe,' Professor McGonagall noted.

'Oh, yes, thank you. They are perfect – so warm,' Hermione replied gratefully.

'I have always found layers do the trick in warding off the cold.'

'I had to seriously restrain myself from putting all of them on. I think my blood has thinned considerably. I honestly couldn't feel my toes before, which was disconcerting to say the least.' Hermione took a sip of tea but quickly put it down again to add sugar.

'It will take you a few days to get use to the cold, I would imagine,' she said pragmatically. There was the briefest of pauses when only the crackling fire and the whistling wind on the windows could be heard. The Professor spoke gravely again. 'I need to tell you before we leave that Mr. Weasley and Percy were also killed two years ago during an attack on the Ministry.'

Hermione's face paled, and her brown eyes filled with tears in shock.

'Oh, no! Oh, poor Mrs. Weasley, and now she's lost another son. This is truly terrible,' Hermione cried out, burying her face in her hands. After a short while, she looked up. 'Oh, that poor family, I've been away for too long – if I'd known... oh, how I would have been here for them. What will they think of me - will they understand that there was no way for me to know?'

Professor McGonagall leaned across, placing her wrinkled liver spotted hands over Hermione's young tanned ones. 'No, you did what you had to do, though others may not see it like that. It was the right decision you made, and seeing you again, any doubts I had are gone. You have truly blossomed into someone special. For some reason you are meant to be with us now, otherwise the owl would not have got through - you know that. But be wary about disclosing what you've become. Prejudices still run strongly in the Wizarding World.'

Hermione was silent for a bit, her eyes on the crackling fire, her fingers fiddling with the end of her sleeve. Professor McGonagall could almost sense Hermione reaching within herself and drawing on an ancient power that felt tangible despite its peculiarity. She hungrily leaned towards Hermione as if she were the warm fire instead of the crackling one in the fireplace. Professor McGonagall blinked, and the room came back into focus. Hermione reached forward to take another sip, her face clear and her eyes sharp.

'And Harry, tell me about him,' Hermione asked slowly.

'He is my apprentice, actually,' the Professor answered with pride.

'Really? In Transfiguration? Goodness, I would never have guessed that. How's that working out?'

'In fact he has only got a couple of more months to go and one more dissertation to submit before February, and then he is a Professor. He found it challenging at first, but that is quite common. Being an apprentice is different from being a student, and it always takes adjusting to. I needed to take on an apprentice at the time, and he showed an interest, so it has worked out well for both of us. Harry has taken over all of the teaching now – he is quite a natural and very popular with the students. Unfortunately with all my work, I have little time for actual teaching. It is a pity as I quite miss it.'

Professor McGonagall took a sip of tea. Hermione looked nicely warmed by the fire now. She had finally shed the heavy outdoor cloak she had been wearing and was rolling up the sleeves of her tunic.

'You are looking like you have thawed out a bit,' the Professor remarked wryly. 'Though you probably should not be showing that to all and sundry.' She pointedly looked at the small powerful rune tattoo showing on Hermione's lower forearm.

The young woman flushed and quickly rolled down her sleeves so her arms were encased in black again.

'Not that I mind, my dear. In fact I would actually wish the opposite for you, but you do need to tread carefully,' the older woman said softly. 'Now, shall we have a bite to eat? We need to leave shortly.' Professor McGonagall clapped her hands, and a plate of delicious looking savories appeared before them. 'Oh, sorry about that, it is so automatic. Please help yourself.'

'No, really, it's completely fine with me. It doesn't worry me at all, and besides, I am rather looking forward to having some Hogwarts food again,' Hermione said before biting into a savory. She went red and started coughing furiously, her eyes watering. 'Goodness me, I think that went down the wrong way,' she said, spluttering and took a gulp of tea.

Once Hermione was composed again, Professor McGonagall picked up from where she left off. 'Harry is still seeing Ginny, and they live down in Hagrid's Hut. Well, I think officially Ginny is still living at The Burrow, but she certainly spends most nights with Harry. I do not want you saying the wrong thing tonight - not that I mind them being together - but you know how some people think. They seem to be good for each other, and I think it works well for both of them to live there – it is somewhere they can retreat to that is still within the wards of Hogwarts yet apart from the bustle of the castle. Also the hut has nice memories for them of Hagrid.'

Professor McGonagall looked over at Hermione and knew she was processing everything. She felt her own mind wanting to swerve away from remembering that dreadful week but resolutely faced it. Hagrid had died one week after Albus's funeral, but she knew Hermione never had a chance to mourn his death as within a day of the giant's death, her parents had also been attacked and killed. It was a shattered girl who had sat in this very armchair all those years ago.

'Goodness me, look at the time. We need to start moving,' Professor McGonagall said with a start. 'Now, have you got everything you need, Hermione?'

'Actually I was going to ask if you have a small black headscarf I could use – I didn't pack one.'

'Of course, just a moment, I will get one for you.' She disappeared into her room and returned with one in her hand. 'There is a mirror over there if you need it.'

Hermione walked over to it, unclasped her hair and ran her fingers through it. 'I can't believe the tangles it gets into.'

Professor McGonagall looked bemusedly at the woman standing in front of the mirror, while unconsciously straightening her own headscarf. Hermione deftly plaited her long hair, taming it with firm, impatient tugs, then she folded the headscarf and covered her hair and tied it.

'Does it look okay from the back?'

Professor McGonagall stepped closer and tidied the folds of the scarf at the back for her. 'Now you understand why I like wearing hats when I can get away with wearing them.'

'I suppose I'm ready as I'm going to be – oh, do they have any idea that I'm coming?'

'No, I did not want to say anything just in case you did not receive the owl. I am sure they will be surprised.'

Hermione and Professor McGonagall walked back to the fireplace. Professor McGonagall pinched some Floo powder from a pot on the mantelpiece and, throwing it into the fire, said, 'The Burrow,' and disappeared in a whoosh of green flames.