Chapter Two: June 1945

Chapter Two: June 1945

It had actually taken a month and a half for her ankle to heal completely, but as promised, her ribs healed in two months. After the Busses were sure that she was well, Mr. Busse drove her into town where she could then take a train to the border before beginning her long journey back to Scotland.

As much as she liked the Busses, she did not feel comfortable imposing on their hospitality any longer. Having another mouth to feed, especially when she could not do any work, was a burden upon that kind family, and Minerva departed as soon as she was able. She was homesick as well, becoming literally sick sometimes in the early mornings. She just wanted to go home.

That was how Minerva McGonagall found herself on a Muggle train headed towards Berlin. From Berlin, she knew, she would be able to buy a new wand. She had gone two months without a wand, yet she still felt naked every morning when she woke and realised that her wand was gone.

However, the Busses had taken excellent care of her – they were a kind, generous family, even when it meant that their kindness let one family member go hungry. As soon as she got to Berlin, Minerva decided, she would have the German branch of Gringotts change a large sum of Galleons into Muggle money for the Busses. Although she knew they did not expect any repayment, she wanted to give what she could to the family that had saved her life.

The train pulled in to the station, and Minerva exited the train before finding a quiet corner so she could Apparate to the German version of Diagon Alley.

She sighed in relief when she saw the glistening marble building that housed Gringotts' Berlin branch come into view. Carefully hurrying up the stairs, she nodded at the goblin that opened the door for her. Barely sparing a glance to the surroundings, she approached the counter.

A goblin peered at her from over his spectacles. "May I help you?" he asked her, taking in her Muggle attire.

"Yes, I would like to make a withdrawal," she replied confidently.

"Do you have your key?" Minerva's eyes widened – she had forgotten about her key!

"No," she began, "You see, I have lost it..."

The goblin cut her off. "I'm sorry, but we cannot help you. Good day."

Minerva exited the bank, her head hanging. How could she get home if she had neither a wand nor any money? She was also without references, so she would not be able to get a job. And she knew no one in Germany. What was she to do?

Alastor Moody limped down the streets of Muggle Berlin, cursing inwardly at his wooden leg. Why had he not gotten out of the way in time to avoid Grindelwald's Cutting Hex? He shook his head, clearing his thoughts, and entered the small pub that served as the connection between Muggle and Magical Berlin.

He grumbled to himself as he stood in the courtyard, waiting for the gateway to form. Why the bartender had to deposit the trash here, he would never know – it was disgusting. And the rancid smell of spoiled meat was only made worse by the unnaturally hot June weather.

The gateway finally formed, and he stepped through, wincing at his uneven gait caused by his wooden leg. He was walking past Gringotts when he heard someone call his name. He turned and found himself face to face with someone he thought was dead.

"Minerva!" he exclaimed, drawing his wand, just in case.

Minerva thought her eyes were deceiving her – Alastor Moody surely would not be here, of all places – would he? But the wooden leg she saw convinced her that it actually was him, and she took the chance by calling out his name.

"Alastor!" she called and rushed towards him, only stopping herself from embracing him when she noticed his drawn wand.

Alastor did not take any chances; after all, his motto was 'constant vigilance.'

"Where did we camp the day before Grindelwald was defeated?" he questioned her, his wand pointed with deadly accuracy at her heart.

"In the middle of the wilderness under a rocky overhang," she replied promptly. "You felt it best to hide ourselves both by natural and magical means."

He lowered his wand, satisfied with her answer, and embraced her roughly.

"Good Merlin, Minerva, I thought that you were dead!" he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. She sobbed into his shoulder in relief.

"I almost was, Alastor. But what are you doing in Berlin?"

"Been trying to get the Ministry here to send someone to look for your body," he said gruffly. "They found your wand, and I volunteered to retrieve it. I was just about to take a Portkey back to our Ministry." He handed her the familiar piece of wood.

She sobbed even harder as she took her wand, overwhelmed by this unexpected turn of events. Alastor patted her back somewhat awkwardly.

"My Portkey leaves shortly, Minerva," he told her. She looked up at him with hopeful eyes.

"Can I come with you, Alastor? I have no money – I lost my vault key – and I want to go home," she told him, eyes tearing up again.

He nodded. "Of course, but we need to hurry. Can't miss the Portkey." They made their way quickly to the Portkey departure point and were handed a plumy purple quill that smelled like lemon drops.

"Dumbledore, always one for theatrics," Alastor scoffed, and Minerva's heart wrenched as she thought of Albus. He had not come to retrieve her wand – did she really mean that little to him? Suddenly, she felt the familiar jerk behind her navel as the Portkey activated, and her world spun violently before coming to an abrupt halt.

Five minutes later, Minerva was wiping her mouth with Alastor's handkerchief. "Thank you, Alastor," she said gratefully. "I do not know why that happened – I've never become sick when using a Portkey." He shrugged off her thanks, telling her to keep the handkerchief. They walked down the corridor to Kermit Gamp's office, the current Minister of Magic.

Alastor knocked on the door, stepping back to allow Minerva to enter first when it was opened from the inside. She entered the office, stopping abruptly when a man sitting in an armchair by the fire rose. Her world swayed alarmingly, and she tried to grab onto something solid. The next thing she knew, everything was dark.

When Minerva regained consciousness, she was in a room at St. Mungo's. The window's view of the sunset gave her some idea of how much time had passed. As she began to take in her surroundings, a Healer bustled in.

"Ah, good, you're awake! Your visitors will be happy to hear that," the Healer told her, handing Minerva a purple potion. She swallowed it obediently, too tired to argue, but grimaced at the taste.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Well, from what I have been told, you entered the Minister's office and fainted. You were suffering from dehydration and stress, which were exacerbated by your pregnancy," the Healer said, taking her pulse.

"What? I'm not pregnant!" Minerva denied vehemently.

The Healer laughed. "Yes, you are – you are two months pregnant." Not noticing Minerva's distress, she said, "I'll fetch your visitors now."

Minerva's head spun. She was pregnant? How could she not have noticed? She was pregnant... with Albus's child. The realisation hit her hard. How could she tell him? What would she do? Would he even care?

The door opening, admitting Poppy and Alastor, interrupted Minerva's thoughts. Poppy rushed over to Minerva's side and gave her a tight hug.

"Oh, Minerva, I'm so glad to see you – when Alastor told me you were dead I did not know what to do – I'm so glad that you are alive!" Poppy wept. Minerva returned her hug.

"I am glad as well, Poppy," she said, crying too.

"What's the diagnosis, Minerva?" Alastor asked, his gruff voice an attempt to conceal any emotion.

Minerva wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, leaning back against the pillows as Poppy released her from her embrace.

"Yes, Minerva, what's wrong?" Poppy chimed in.

Minerva took a deep breath before responding. "I'm pregnant."

They gaped at her, open-mouthed, utterly shocked at her pronouncement.

Alastor recovered first. "Who's the father?"

Minerva lowered her eyes, intently studying the weave of the blanket spread across her lap.

"I can't tell you, I'm sorry," she mumbled, flushing.

"Now, really, Minerva!" Poppy scoffed. "Besides Albus," Minerva flinched at his name, but Poppy did not notice, "we are your closest friends. If you cannot tell us, who can you tell?"

"I'm sorry," she mumbled again, resolutely refusing to meet their eyes.

Poppy opened her mouth to say something again, but Alastor laid a hand on her arm and cut her off.

"Minerva, the Healers say that you can be released. Do you have somewhere to stay?" Alastor asked her.

Minerva nodded. "I can stay at my family manor. The house-elves have maintained it."

"Good," Alastor said. "I'll Floo back with you, just to make sure you are settled in. Is that all right?"

Minerva nodded again. "Thank you, Alastor," she told him gratefully.

Poppy helped her sit up and gave her a warm hug. "I've got to get back to work, Minerva, but owl me," she told her friend. Minerva agreed and let herself be escorted to the Floo station by Alastor Moody.

"McGonagall Manor!" Minerva said clearly, and disappeared in a rush of green flames.