Archive of Our Own (BETA rev. 2101)

"Hello," the girl next to me says. It is meant to sound confident, but I can detect underlying fear and timidity. Perhaps it is my gift as a Lion, I muse.

I tip my head and repeat, "Hello."

"I don't believe we've been properly introduced, though we're in the same year..." The girl sits forward eagerly and the movement catches my attention. She is in Ravenclaw. She mentioned we are in the same year—of course it is likely, given our shared class—yet I have an undeniable feeling that she is younger. Such things ordinarily do not matter, but this is a very noticeable sensation. She evidently is not finished introducing herself. "My name is Helen Gregran. Is this your favourite course?"

That at least strikes my interest. I am almost always willing to talk about school. I angle myself toward her. "Transfiguration? Yes, it is. Do you enjoy Transfiguration?"

"I do, very much. I could never be pushed to pick a favourite but I certainly appreciate it over, say, Divination." The new acquaintance shudders and wrinkles her nose. An embarrassed look crosses her face. "Apologies! I haven't asked your name!"

"Minerva," I answer, smiling lightly at the possibility of a new intellectually-oriented friendship. I never have kept many friends. Any peer who scorns Divination for Transfiguration is a step closer to becoming a friend of mine. I can certainly overcome the slight feeling of an age gap for a possible future friendship. I offer my hand, preferring distant manners to girlish giggles over a new bond formed. "Minerva McGonagall."

I look her over in earnest for the first time. Straight red hair and pleased brown eyes, pale skin and neatly pressed clothing. Compared to the other mussed and rebellious third-years, this Helen is composed and poised for lessons. I am honestly pleased to make her acquaintance.

Professor Dumbledore strolls into the room, robe billowing about him, and we both look front and foremost, immediately dropping our conversation. We are proper students. But when the Professor mentions a prophecy made in history about Muggle alchemy bearing truth, Helen and I share smug smirks over our quills as they scurry over our parchments.

Yes, I do believe Helen and I will grow to be friends.

~*~

Professor Dumbledore catches my eye before I leave the classroom. I tuck my belongings into my briefcase and walk to his desk. I dip my head in salutations and smile some, partially in confusion, although I like to think I dissemble that feature.

"Minerva," he greets with a gentle smile and sparkling eyes. He always looks delighted to see me. It lends grateful butterflies to my stomach, that he might value a mere third year—although to some degree I understand he values every student of all years.

"Hello, Professor," I respond. "Thank you for the lesson."

He waves a hand, as if to say 'it is my job, nothing for which to thank me,' although I disagree. He glances up at me. "Did I see you speaking with Helen?"

I halt surprised laughter from escaping. I should not find it as astonishing as I do that he sees so much more than I expect. He was not in the room when Helen and I spoke. Our quick change in positioning and shared smiles through lesson must have given us away.

"I did. I'm surprised not to have noticed her before today." I smile fully—Professor Dumbledore is always one of the few people to experience such a feat. "She seems...intelligent."

"She is," he replies, although he looks slightly surprised. "Did she not tell you of her arrival?"

"We did not have much chance to speak," I tell him politely. "Class started soon after our introduction."

He nods his head, perpetually understanding. "Perhaps you should invite her for transfiguration homework over tea, hmm?"

"Begging your pardon, Professor, neither of us appears to need much help," I say with a chuckle. He joins me. His eyes are authentically amused.

"No, no, certainly not. She may have some enlightening views on Muggle alchemy and life in general—from America, as well."

"A Muggle-born from America?" I repeat, perplexed. I did not notice either from our meeting, although the first is always difficult to determine without being told. "She doesn't sound American."

"Sounds may be as deceiving as looks," he informs me, smiling sagaciously over his glasses. He's sharing a conspiratorial look with me. "She may have some interesting experiences to share. You think about that transfiguration over tea. I can see you two as fast friends."

~*~

At tea-time I catch sight of straight sanguine hair and walk towards Helen. She looks up at my approach. I clutch my briefcase tighter. I never get used to these friendly interactions with my peers.

"Is this seat taken?" I ask her at last. She shakes her head quickly and inches over to give me more space. I drop my briefcase and take a seat, smiling what I hope is a grateful smile. "Thank you."

"Not a problem."

She seems equally at a loss for what to say, which makes me more comfortable rather than less. I decide to be honest, even if it does involve hiding behind the words of a professor.

"Professor Dumbledore suggested I invite you for transfiguration work over tea. Would you be interested?" I give what most people presume to be a snobbish smile on my part, but my deepest secret conceals that it is a shy smile. It is shy because I am shy. I prefer to be considered snobby than have others know the truth of my social fears.

"I would like that very much. Muggle attempts at transfiguration especially fascinate me. Shall we work through this assessment during the leisure time after tea?"

"I would be delighted." I smile broader to know that the statement is entirely true.

She giggles to herself and I raise my eyebrow at her, but the jollity is contagious. I finally question her action. "What is so amusing?"

"My excitement to be here. Hogwarts. It's everything I read and more; it doesn't cease to amaze me." She looks at me and her eyebrows rise together, lips spread and white teeth peeking. "I've heard the pudding is to die for."

I look left and right, sure that none of my peers are paying attention or likely to be listening. I lean near Helen and whisper, "I have a secret sweet tooth and I agree with that assessment."

"Goodie!" She claps her hands together just as steaming fowl, vegetables and more appear on the table. We both laugh at her response as we reach to fill our plates.

~*~

Helen escorts me out of the Great Hall; she finished her meal precisely as I did. A few of my fellow Gryffindors watch me carefully as I leave. Few students take advantage of informal evening meals to sit with those of other houses. I never have and never intended to. Helen just smiles and waves at her fellow Ravenclaws. I turn once before exiting the Hall. Professor Dumbledore, as I guessed, is smiling at me. I always have the feeling he has a number of plans—some involving me—in his enigmatic mind.

I converse with the Ravenclaw as we make our way to Gryffindor tower—she seems to follow me without a settled agreement on location. I take no notice. I'm pleased that she doesn't interrupt my speech to ask for definitions of words, as all the other third-years seem to do.

"Wow..." she murmurs as we enter through the fat lady. As usual, she was far too fixated on the silly knight to properly acknowledge my password. I could have mumbled anything and she would let me in. It's no wonder I have stopped requesting others call her the "corpulent lady" so she wouldn't know the adjective so many used on her. She was still under the impression that a corpulent was a sweet. I grin. It was, in a way...

"Do you ever get tired of walking into these awe-inspiring rooms?" she asks me. I turn to her and feel a flush. I shouldn't let my mind wander so, especially not to be lost in rants.

"No, I can't say I do. It would be cliché to say they're magical, but..."

"They are," she finishes for me, smiling, with another look around the room. "Everything is so antique and beloved."

"Different from Ravenclaw?" I wonder, authentically curious.

I read a look of surprise on her face. "You've never been?"

I shake my head.

"You seem the worldly type. Or, if not worldly...Hogwartsly? I'm surprised you haven't been in Ravenclaw." She hushes, acknowledging that she has rambled.

I smirk and offer a laugh. "I've never been invited. Nor to Hufflepuff, and least of all Slytherin."

"You should give them a try," she informs me, but I don't believe her face or her tone. It seems she agrees with my opinion of Slytherin but is merely pretending otherwise.

I show her to my favourite chairs before the fireplace and question over my shoulder, "Ravenclaw affiliation, hmm?"

"In a way," she answers with a sheepish look. "They're not my favourite students. Can be cunningly clever, so I see the draw from my House...Sometimes I wonder if I wasn't meant to be in Gryffindor myself!"

Helen drops her briefcase next to her chair and taps it with her wand. It spreads out as a knee-high table before her and she plucks up her Muggle Alchemy book and her parchment. I gasp over the display and book.

"You're the one who took it from the library!" I exclaim first, in an elated whisper—just like me to comment on a book before an act of genius Transfiguration. I take a quick breath.

"Guilty as charged." She pulls it open to the chapter on gold and sits back, expecting my question.

"Where did you learn to do that?"

"I had a teacher in my previous school tutor me in helpful school spells. Said I was too scholarly for my own good sometimes and could use some assistance." She dips her quill in purple ink—I raise an eyebrow—and scribbles down two words. She rips the corner and passes it to me. I read the spell and smile. Of course, simple combination of Latin and old Witching tongues.

I take my wand from my coiled braid, whisper the words and tap my case. It turns to a fully formed table, which nicks my knee. I sigh. I never enjoy botching a spell, even my first time.

"Enunciate the third syllable a touch more. It creates the minuscule size." At this point she is not looking up from her book. I see only a crown of red hair as she leans over her desk. She whispers another spell and touches over some lines. They are transcribed to her parchment in bulleted points, the perfect arrangement to combine multiple sources and write an assessment. I marvel.

By the time my second attempt is successful—of course—she is offering her hand with another ripped parchment piece. She rests it on the corner of my new table and gets back to work.

I smile. I don't mind being bested by an ardent worker. It means I can work hard enough to best back.

~*~

I have just finished my note-taking from a Muggle History book when she closes her book and looks up. She takes in the pages I've just finished reading and smiles.

"That book." She turns to look at the spine and nods. "I looked for that one as well!"

"If you're done, shall we swap?" I propose. I remove my finger from the pages and let it shut fully, then offer it to Helen. She grasps it gingerly and passes me hers. I smile when she does. "Pleasing business arrangement."

"You have a lovely sense of humour," she says, not directly to me, but as if she were talking to her newly-acquired book. It is soft, said shyly as if she isn't sure how I will take the statement.

"Thank you. It's matched." I open the new book without further thought or pause, but I'm smiling as I investigate attempts to recreate silver.

~*~

It's nearly nine when we've finished with our second books. She yawns and leans back as she closes the book in her lap. Her legs are curled up underneath her, a concentrated pose. My limbs would get stiff. I twist my back and sigh at a few audible cracks. It appears I already am stiff. Such an old maid! I chide myself and laugh.

Helen looks up abruptly. "Some more arbitrary amusement?" she inquires, teasing me with a delighted grin.

"I feel like an old woman, stiff and twisting about so. Crack crack!" I imitate the noise of my back and blush. That is very unlike me. I am acting very...childish. But I am thirteen, am I not? My mother would point out that I still am a child and have every right to act in such a manner. I decide to contemplate it more before sleep and put it off for now.

"You sound like a chiropractor." She touches her wand to the short table before her and ignores its movement, instead reaching out to return my library book. I trade her back her book. She slides it into her briefcase and closes the latches. "I'm knackered."

"Aren't we a bunch of rebels, then, heading to sleep before ten on a Friday night." I smile lazily and leave my work where it is. I do glance to it, though, and then blink. I turn back to Helen. "Could you tell me the counterspell?"

"Oh, counterspell!" Helen presses her fingers to her temple and shakes her head, laughing in a shamed manner. "I would make such a terrible teacher!" She scribbles down the counterspell to the spell she had previously given me and packs her belongings again.

"You, hmm, you put the parchment back in..." I mention, as gently as I can muster. I can feel she is already embarrassed. She flushes further and fishes for the small piece of parchment, then slips it into my waiting hand. I try not to make it eager.

"I'm sorry about that," she says softly. "All of it."

"The pleasant evening focused on our studies, as well?" I ask softly. I don't remember my face feeling so tensionless. She recognises that I'm teasing her, that she has no reason to apologise, and closes her mouth. I have a feeling she was about to apologise for apologising. Girls can be so silly sometimes. I dip my head and stand, stepping around my new study table. I'm a night-owl; I'll work on a few lines before I go to sleep.

Helen stands and bends for her briefcase. She follows me to the painting and stands clutching her belongings, almost nervous but I don't fully believe it.

"Would you like to get together soon to finish the work? I know it isn't due for two weeks, but with end of term assessments quickly coming upon us..."

"I would love to," I answer before she can continue rambling. "You'll have to show me Ravenclaw tower some time. I'm a fan of heights."

"Then you will love the tower!" she gushes, smiling ear to ear.

I nod and match the expression. "I've read Hogwarts, A History," I declare, which somehow widens her smile. "It has pictures."

"It did each of the three times I read it," Helen answers, eyes bright. "Perhaps Sunday, then, after Quiddich."

"Provided Ravenclaw beats Slytherin into the ground, sure," I agree. I pause and cross my arms. I give her a look up and down that I've always known my peers were overly capable of but one I never knew I possessed: one of amused attitude. "We can even turn a blind eye to the fact that you won't be conflicted when one team wins."

"'One team,' you say. Ravenclaw!"

"Maybe this time. Until a fortnight from now."

"I'm not frightened of your Gryffindor lion's pride," she remarks with a laugh and slips out from behind the painting. "See you soon."

I hear the bells chiming and push her gently through. "Not if you don't get going, you'll be sent to the dungeons with the first years!"

She hurries down the corridor toward the tower. I watch her go and duck back into the common room. I work for another half an hour, write down the first half of my essay plan and pack for bed.

When I reach my the third-year dormitory floor the other girls are still awake, munching on fiery fluffs and gossiping about, I imagine, boys. I park my briefcase next to my bed and pull my sleeping clothes from under my pillow. The others are staring at me as I walk from the bathroom. I uncoil the bun from my fake-wand wooden stick and let the ebony plait fall down over my shoulder.

"Is something the matter?" I inquire, looking the four other girls in the eye. They blink at me and shake their heads, nigh simultaneously. Sometimes I wonder if young Gryffindors are just sheep in lions' attire.

One, however—Aurora—stops her shaking. "Did you have a Ravenclaw guest?"

"I did," I answer honestly and sit on my bed, tucking my night skirt underneath me.

"Is she your new friend?" The authenticity of her statement drives the others away into further conversation amongst themselves, with twitters and snickers. Aurora just gazes at me with deep dark eyes.

"She is, I think."

Aurora smiles. I always consider it a slightly frightening gesture, given how much it effects her usually blank or contemplative features. I have never received a smile from her before and never witnessed one so full of thoughts and positive conclusions. She brings her hands together in her lap and nods her head. "I'm glad."

Just like that, she's back with the others of the group, as if she had no depth at all. A sea-bottom floor of jewelled treasures pretending to be the flint speck in a walkway. I shake my head and tuck myself under the covers, then draw the curtain closed.

As I rest my head against the pillow the thoughts cloud my mind again. For a few moments, I will humour them. Then I will clear them for sleep.

Friends, I think repeatedly. Have I had one of those before?

Do I have one now?

I have the faint recollection of falling asleep with a smile, but the concept is so foreign to me I ignore its implications.

As usual, my weekend wakeup is later than the other girls. They always sleep before I, even when they stay up chatting. I find great difficulty in falling asleep, especially weekend nights when I know I have the freedom to let my mind roam. I'm brushing my teeth when someone knocks against the already open bathroom door. I rinse my mouth and turn, toothbrush still by my lips.

Aurora looks at me, surprised and amused.

"You have a guest," she tells me. She takes in my nightgown and perched toothbrush. "A surprise guest."

I thank her and hurry from the room, slipping into my housecoat before heading on to see the guest. I prefer not to keep this person waiting, whoever he or she is.

I arrive in the common room to see a red-haired figure bent over a fire-side chair inspecting the cushions.

"Helen?" I call gently, working to not startle her. She looks focused on her task, whatever mysterious job that is. "Is there a problem?"

"I lost something last night when I was here. Probably when I bent to pick up my case..." she lifts the cushion and spreads her hands out underneath. She jumps and winces when she hits something sharp. "I need it back..."

I walk to her and kneel beside her, reaching under the chair. I pause and catch her eye. "What are you looking for?"

"My necklace. It's very important to me. My grandmother gave it to me before I left, so I would fit in. I just think it's beautiful."

I sweep my arm around under the chair and feel my ring finger brush something thin and metallic. I manage to curl it around my fingers and tug it out. When I glance down at my hand I am holding a long silver chain with an antique, inscribed watch. I smile and blow some of the dust from the cover without opening it.

"To fit in?" I ask, smiling. "Strange gift to help someone fit in."

I pass it to her and she cradles it in her hand, cooing. Her face reads utter relief. After a number of seconds she loosens her grip and looks up again, smiling her embarrassed and sheepish smile. "It would have been a bonding opportunity for her. She comes from another time."

"It's beautiful. I like it, even if our peers wouldn't appreciate it as much."

"Well thank you. It's an important family heirloom. Nice to know a true friend appreciates it."

I can't hide my smile. "Does that make us true friends?"

Helen wraps the chain twice around her neck and lets the little clock fall just inside her jumper. She moves in quickly and hugs me before I can imagine her next step. When she sits back on her calves, she carries a delicate smile. "I say yes. I've never been very good at making friends, or knowing when we are friends, but...I think we qualify as friends. Potentially good ones. What do you think?"

What do I think? I think a lot of things. At present I cannot reach them. "Yes."

She pats her chest where the clock pendant resides and moves to stand. She gazes down at me and offers her hand, then helps me stand. "Thank you for the help and dealing with my frenzy."

"It's what friends are for," I say, without consciously remembering the phrase. I have never had reason to use it.

I walk her to the door for the second time in two days. She ties her cloak around her shoulders and holds the painting open with her knee, already familiar with the area. I admire that. Contrary to popular belief, it takes me a long time to get comfortable.

"See you tomorrow, then?"

"After Ravenclaw destroys Slytherin."

"Déjà vu," she says, and pushes herself out the door.

~*~

Minerva McGonagall sighed and rested her forehead on her fingertips, quill brushing her cheek and receiving a frown. These times were always difficult on the administration. As Deputy Headmistress, she felt the strain of both administration and teaching duties. These days seemed to weigh on her tight ebony bun and produce ceaseless headaches.

It was schedules like the one before her that delighted half of her—the Teacher Hat—and made the other half groan. She was deluding herself thinking it was a true split. The teacher persona's pleased smile won over her Deputy Headmistress frown.

"My my, Hermione, what are we going to do with you?" she murmured, tracing a finger over the plethora of courses the young witch had chosen. "These courses will never timetable correctly."

There had to be something that could be done to please the overachieving student. The woman sat back in her chair and dropped the quill to her desktop.

There was always...

She shook her head. No, of course not. It was entirely impractical. How could such a device ever be trusted to a third year? The concepts of time were not covered in detail until at least fifth year, if even then. It was apparent that this particular student had crawled too far into her good graces, too close to heart. To contemplate a young adolescent with a Time-Turner! It was preposterous.

Minerva frowned further to find herself standing. Hermione was no ordinary third year. It would not be surprising to discover the girl had already opened fifth-year books, or to find that she would be less than discouraged to face teaching herself about time while keeping ahead of her regular studies.

It was certainly true. If any incoming third year could handle wielding a Time-Turner, it was Hermione.

Within a second, Minerva was holding the schedule and walking toward the door.

~*~

"Albus," Minerva announced to the statue beside the entrance she knew so well. She paused with her eyes closed, then opened them and gave a tight but entertained smile. "Bernie Bots."

A grinding noise told her the password had not been changed. Soon enough the hidden stairwell before her opened. The woman gave a brief look up and down the empty corridor and stepped onto the stone stairs. She took the moment to compose herself—no one else would notice there was anything to compose, but Albus would—and lifted her hand to knock. The door opened before her wrist could move.

"Minerva," the Headmaster greeted cordially, a welcoming smile perched on his thin lips. His wise blue eyes were free of spectacles as he sat at his desk. It appeared he had just been rubbing his face. A few strands stood out of his ordinarily neat white beard. It was a minute observation, but Minerva noted it. The man ushered her into the room, adding, "I can see by your hair and a look in the mirror that it is timetabling a student, mmm?"

The woman smiled lightly and strode into the room, standing attention next to a seat opposite the large wooden desk. Fawkes squawked from the far right but the professors did not flinch. Minerva was waiting for her signal to relax, whatever that signal might be.

Albus Dumbledore opened his arms, gave a wide smile and motioned towards the chair. McGonagall followed the instruction and dropped the intense formality she had previously kept.

"I have a student to discuss," she told him when she was seated and comfortable, robes spread out to either side. She sat relaxed in her own manner—straight back against the chair, rather than perched at the end of her seat.

"Ah, yes. I presume it is one of the trio? Harry, Ron or Hermione. For scheduling...Hermione, then?" He smiled. It set his light eyes to sparkling.

For many other visitors, he would have omitted the logic and murmured merely a name, for shock value or his own amusement. Perhaps both. Minerva was grateful that he included his train of thought when speaking with her. She felt more at ease following thoughts she knew over the mysterious deliberation of an ingenious man.

"Hermione Granger, incoming third year," Minerva confirmed. The description was not necessary, of course—Professors from most Wizarding schools knew of the trio and their year in school. Regardless, Minerva was the sort of woman who stuck to traditional administration when dealing with any student, from unpopular first year to celebrity seventh. Albus smiled. She surmised he was thinking the same.

"Hermione Granger." He sat forward in his chair, interested. "What has she designated as her interests for the next school year?"

"Everything."

Albus smiled further and knit his fingers on the desktop, gazing over the half-moon spectacles he had replaced as Minerva sat. "Delightful, yet difficult to accommodate."

Minerva dipped her head, smiling slightly at his phrasing. She was always pleased when she thought along the same lines as her colleague.

"I had an idea," she remarked slowly, still choosing her words with great care. "It would not be an orthodox method..."

"Is it within the rules?" he questioned, though his look told her he knew exactly what she was considering. At her nod he rested his chin atop his woven fingers. "Using time."

"Yes. A Time-Turner." Minerva took a breath to keep the hope from her features. It would never be entirely hidden, not regarding Hermione, but she could at least keep it from becoming an obvious component regarding any member of the student body. "Would it be possible, Albus?"

He was silent for a moment. There was a hum following. He smiled and turned to Fawkes. "What do you think, old friend? Should a friend of Harry's be gifted time for the sake of education?"

Most would not expect an answer from the resident avian of the room. Minerva, instead, sat carefully angled to hear any response.

Fawkes tilted his head, shrewd eyes connected to his dear companions', and gave a gentle set of squawks. A sound similar to a coo escaped last. To Minerva's ears the communication resonated positively.

"Yes, yes, I believe Hermione is suited to a Time-Turner. We will have to train her properly and improve her knowledge of time science. I do not foresee that as a problem." He paused and look to Minerva, all inquisition over his spectacles. His face was difficult to read. "Tell me, if you would not mind: has she shown an interest in divination?"

"She has it marked."

"Ah." Albus made an indiscernible sound, at least to Minerva, and released his hands. "It will be an exciting year, I have no doubt."

"Never in this school," Minerva riposted, standing. She bowed her head briefly. "Thank you, Albus. I will acquire a Time-Turner and research previous student use. I will report back with my findings. We can decide what to do from there."

"Pragmatic as always, Professor McGonagall." Albus smiled and waved his fingers lightly. The female turned and made her way to the doorway, nodding over her shoulder when she heard a chirp from the phoenix. The male voice called, "Good evening."

"Good evening, Professor Dumbledore."

~*~

As Minerva strode back to her office, she pondered precocious students. Hermione was high on her list. She had reached her office door when she felt her thoughts draw to a pause.

Yes, Hermione was a third year deserving of a Time-Turner. There was only one other student Minerva could imagine that honour going to; that student was from back in her own adolescent years within the castle...

That weekend Minerva walked to Hogsmeade village for an early evening visit to the pub. After a long conversation with Rosmerta, the Transfigurations Professor left for a stroll toward the Shrieking Shack. She always preferred to do her Apparating from there, where she felt least likely to have a student catch her in the act. It wasn't shame, she justified, merely not wishing to disillusion her students into the understanding that she had a life beyond Hogwarts.

A sardonic smile formed on her lips before her instant departure. In the cold Between world her one thought was, I don't, really.

She popped back into existence before a small cottage in Gairloch, the Loch Gairloch lapping at the garden. Any Muggle would have drooled over the property. It was a pity, then, that it was invisible to them and had been for generations.

"Minerva, my dear, my wean!" an old woman called when the door had been thrown open. Minerva was only taking her first step up the winding pathway. The woman said, "I thought I heard Apparation. And to see you, here during the busy pre-school times! What a delightful surprise!"

"Greetings, Mum," Minerva murmured gently when she reached the top of the path. She ducked to kiss the frail woman on the cheek.

The woman with long, plaited silver hair looked up and smiled. Wrinkles formed a detailed roadmap across her features. For all that her body was aged, her eyes were not. They contained the same fire Minerva knew she would see if she looked in the mirror. McGonagalls aged in body, never in mind; they were sharp as school children until they at last died in their varied, unique ways.

"Not that I'm not delighted, you know I am, my dear, but what has brought you?" the elder McGonagall questioned kindly. "And please tell me you're staying for tea."

"Still an old tea-jenny, I see," the daughter responded with a wry grin, loosening in her mother's presence. "I am prepared to stay the night if it will please you, Mum."

The woman lit up further and ushered her offspring into the cosy cottage. It was bigger inside than one would have imagined viewing it from outdoors.

Minerva was soon settled at the dinner table with all sorts of meals and a steaming cup of tea placed before her. She shook her head and smiled. She was a woman grown, a true middle-aged witch, but she would never grow out of enjoying a meal from her dear mother. The other McGuppies—so many McGonagall children raised simultaneously in one little house, with no incredible funds—were doing rather well. Minerva's favourite brother and his partner had settled for a time in the mountains, but that was like to change as the couple enjoyed new experiences and locations. Minerva, the youngest, was the settler of the group.

They spent a good hour speaking on various points of their lives. The portrait of Minerva's father was apparently suffering nightmares again, terrible dreams of killer purple jammies wielding disgruntled quills and dollies. That made the two women chuckle together.

Minerva gave her updates on all the colleagues her mother knew from previous visits or just within the small Wizarding world. When her mother was at last satisfied, she sat back and folded her hands on the tabletop. She gave her daughter a piercing look, summing her up with a smile tucked away at one corner of her lips.

"The chat has been wonderful, my kitten, but what have you come for? I know you. Plans always whirring away in that brain of yours."

The younger woman smiled, as guilty as she could muster, and dropped her head. She was back to her young school self.

"I have a student who has signed on for more classes than we can timetable. Many more. Nearly all of the courses we offer our third years." Minerva lifted her chin once more to look at her mother. "I was hoping to find some arrangement that would allow her to take most if not all of the modules."

"Goodness me, sounds like you and Helen, this student!" the other woman responded immediately, her voice very pleased. "How I love the studious ones. You're here after the old family Time-Turner, are you not?"

Minerva laughed out loud and nodded carefully. "You know my mind too well, Mum. Do we still have it around? It will be returned, of course. I thought it more appropriate than one of the Ministry models."

"Yes, I imagine it would be somewhere in that mess of an attic your father left. He still visits his frame up there just to fawn over the wonderful collection of rubbish he collected." The elderly female rolled her eyes but chuckled as she stood to clear her plates. "Go and have a look. Could take you anywhere from seconds to centuries."

The daughter stood as well and brought her own dishes to the basin, bypassing magic for a more naturally domestic atmosphere. She kissed her mother's cheek again and whispered, "I will hope for a median of minutes to an hour."

She left a tittering mother and made her way up the old groaning stairwell.

~*~

After three hours in the attic befriending cobwebs and strange invertebrates, Minerva sat back and exhaled a long breath. Even a call for the item with her wand left no movement in the room. She at last chose to give up her pursuit, sure the precious item was not in the cluttered storage room.

The woman made her way down the top set of stairs and stopped at the landing. The sun was setting through the window of the back room. She smiled and followed the orange light into an old room with shelves of books and peculiar items strewn about in a peculiarly ordered manner. The bed was still made.

Minerva walked to her bureau and took up a carved wooden box covered in a thick layer of dust. She wiped it away with her sleeve and opened the top. A picture of two elder school girls gleaned up at her. It looked to be near the final year at Hogwarts. One red-haired student had her arm around a raven-haired companion, turning to give her a hug and make the other laugh. The Professor watched the loop of her student years a few times and put the picture aside, a bittersweet ache in her heart. Below the picture lay a large pendent and long chain, both gold in colour. She drew it out and laughed.

The Time-Turner. Of all the places to be. She couldn't remember ever showing interest in it before, but everyone in the house was known for moving things every which way. It was unlikely she had been the one to choose its new location.

Regardless, she was pleased to have found it. She inspected the small sand hourglass with its gold rings and slanted writing. It looked as good as new, or at least as new as she had ever seen it even as a child.

Minerva tucked it securely into her pocket and made her way back downstairs.

~*~

Even in her mother's cabin, the Professor had access to books of Hogwarts Rules and Regulations. Just about anything could be found in the old cabin.

She spent hours downstairs in her favourite living room chair reading through well-used Hogwarts books. Her mother, after some cleaning and knitting, took up a book to assist her. Even as a team neither found anything of importance.

"The only mention I heard was no faculty time devices were to be left without student-proof locks, to guard against misfortunate events."

The older woman glanced up and chuckled. "Self-explanatory. Just as there is to be no improper conduct or public displays of blatant sexuality?"

"Oh heavens no!" Minerva responded in mock horror. "We wouldn't want any of the students acknowledging that their Prim and Proper Professors have any human carnal desires."

Her mother cocked a brow much in the same way her offspring would. "Their poor minds would combust."

"You didn't find anything, then?" Minerva inquired as she dropped the final book onto the pile.

"I found a story of an illegally-acquired Time-Turner used by a seventh year to attempt cheating the final examinations. It failed. The Headmaster or Mistress now has a sensor for any and all time-tampering devices, but items can be registered for staff and students if the reason is found plausible and is approved by both the Head and Deputy Master or Mistress."

Minerva stared at her in shock over the revelation. "When did you find that?"

"Oh, an hour or so ago. Had to dig in one of the hidden pages."

"You left me floundering for an hour?" the younger woman remarked, but she was laughing: that was just like her mother. "Which book is that?"

The older woman levitated the book over to her daughter and stood. "Well, my dear daughter, I enjoyed elongating our time together. I am heading up to hit the hay. Enjoy your stay in your old room."

Minerva shook her head and left the book on the table next to her chair. She stood and followed her mother. "Would you mind if I slept in your room tonight? We haven't done that in years. We are both lonely."

"My middle-aged daughter, share my bed like her child self?" the elderly woman teased but grinned and took her daughter's hand gingerly, then gave it a pat. "I would love to comfort my youngest again."

The daughter, forever young in her family's presence, smiled her most tender smile and followed her mother up to bed. She was relieved to be five again in her mother's footsteps.

Minerva sighed from deep in her bones to receive one of her mother's well-practiced back massages. The woman insisted on brushing and plaiting her daughter's hair 'for old time's sake.' They fell asleep huddled in the large bed stuffed in the tiny cold bedroom, the Scottish breeze meandering in through the window the elder McGonagall would forever refuse to close. The two shared smiles as they drifted into separate dreams of different ages, thankful of the other's presence.

The innocence of a mother-daughter bond would be relished into the days the mother joined her husband within frames, mumbling about purple jammies and enchanted quills. Theirs was a cottage of comfort.

Minerva felt closer to Helen than she had in a longer than she recognised.

Professor McGonagall felt refreshed after quality time with her mother. She smiled soon after she entered Dumbledore's office. He greeted her with a wave of his hand and seemed to sense her mood immediately.

"You are in high spirits!" he commented as he welcomed her to sit. "Have you found pertinent information?"

"I have. I have picked up a Time-Turner as well." She placed the book onto his desk. The Time-Turner on its long golden chain was tucked firmly in the spine.

He picked it up and smiled down at the item.

"Ah," he breathed softly, "I have not seen the likes of this for a long time."

The man looked down at the book but appeared only to read a line, as if discovering the section text triggered memory of it. Albus looked up and smiled fully, a sight not many received; although many more believed they had. "It looks as though Hermione will soon be receiving a new gift."

"Shall I call her in for a personal meeting and give it to her then? I could arrange weekly meetings for a time, until she's properly trained and understands the theory. Or should I write her a letter in advance?" Minerva had pondered the manners to deal with this situation.

The Headmaster chuckled and gave the woman's hand a pat when he reached to return the book. "You sound as though you are brimming with ideas. I will let it rest with you. I am confident you will find the most suitable way to go about this."

"Thank you, Albus. I will contact the student soon."

Despite his confidence, Albus slipped into his more informal role—few would notice—and listened intently to all of his colleague's ideas. He offered an occasional suggestion but for the most part merely listened intently. His smile grew the more subtly animated Minerva became.

At last he glanced down at the clock embedded in his desk. "My! I believe you're late, are you not?"

Minerva glanced up at the ornate clock in the mirror and stifled a groan. "Xiomara will ring my neck. Thank you for the reminder."

"It is nothing. Go meet your date. Merlin knows faculty don't get enough time for them once the train arrives."

The woman smiled sadly, both at the thought of fewer romantic evenings and at the new thought that had taken root. "Another lonely year for you, Albus?"

His eyes sparkled as he stood. "Goodness no. I could never be lonely with a castle full of students, or with this office full of loquacious administrators."

The many portraits—those that were awake—began to protest, but the man did not take care, for he walked with the woman to the staircase and left the office with her.

~*~

"What happened to our plan for formal attire?" the grey-haired brooms mistress inquired when Minerva entered the Italian restaurant. The hawk-eyed woman seemed amused rather than upset at her companion's late and unprepared arrival.

"I've forgotten again, my dear," the long-haired female replied apologetically. She stood behind her chair and grasped her wand before whispering a few words. Her wardrobe transformed in an instant. A few of the surrounding guests gazed in awe. It was very rare for any witch or wizard to transfigure the clothing she or he was wearing without showing an inch of flesh—possibly a whole birthday suit—before new, occasionally skewed clothing appeared. Minerva guessed most of these attempts were not performed by those who had experience stumbling upon scantily- or sky-clad seventh years enjoying too much fun in the broom closets. She was most impressed with those. She even had to guess the sizes as she went along, all the while summoning the perfect scolds.

At last she sat and took up the menu. She was relieved with her companion's first questions.

"How did the meeting go? Does the bookworm get the Turner?"

~*~

When the two Hogwarts faculty members arrived back at the castle, Madame Hooch headed straight to the wine storage while Professor McGonagall brought her writing supplies to the faculty lounge. She set herself up in one corner of the large-cushioned couch and took out her green ink. She smiled to herself. Green ink meant important business.

"Not starting your acceptance letter form, are you?" Hooch inquired as she sat in the centre of the couch and brought the wine glass to her lips. The other glass rested on the tea table far enough from Minerva's belongings to be safe and close enough that it was in reach. The silver-haired woman added, "I thought we had ages before then. I'll be gutted to know it's so soon!"

"Still, woman," McGonagall intoned. She shook her head and laughed deep in her throat, as only few could trigger from her. It came easily now that she had been in the presence of three such people in the course of one day. "We have plenty of time yet. This is the letter to Hermione."

"You'll scare her half to death, writing it in your official green ink. She'll think there were important second-year exams that she inconveniently missed and has now failed."

"The imagination on you, honestly." Minerva finished her line and looked it over. She was overwhelmed with how much there was to express in few words. She wanted it simple and precise.

Hooch summoned a book after a half an hour but made no complaint. Minerva wasn't concerned. They were partners—they knew how the other functioned.

The Brooms Mistress stirred when her companion replaced the inkhorn and quill. The Transfigurations Professor bypassed the sand and merely blew on her new words. There was no reason to spell it dry. She had perfectly good lungs, after all.

"Would you like to read it to me?" Hooch questioned when Minerva's breath was her own again. The Scottish woman smiled and brought the paper to the right angle for her spectacles. She had been about to ask.

-
Greetings Ms. Granger,

I am sending you a letter in advance to discuss module selection for your upcoming third year. We could not timetable your ambitious selections but have found a solution to this problem.

I am including some short papers on the history and use of the Time-Turner. I have great trust in your research abilities. Please read further than the limited material I have provided.

We are entrusting you with great responsibility in use of this item, if you do so accept its use for your third year. We have confirmed that your use follows established Hogwarts procedure. It will be registered in your name for the purpose of attending multiple classes during pre-determined periods of time.

I am arranging personal sessions with you to further your understanding of time principles and Turner use. I have scheduled five thus far; we may determine the number necessary when we meet. They will not interfere with Quidditch or other scheduled events.

Please see me Saturday September 1st at 17.00, if you may. Respond by post if that time is inconvenient.

Enjoy the remainder of your summer.

Kind regards,

Professor McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Professor of Transfiguration

-

"As always, my dear, it sounds perfect," Xiomara offered. She stifled a yawn and manoeuvred to rest her soft head of hair against Minerva's tight shoulder. The woman laughed when she saw the paper for herself. "Sounds perfect, looks a mess. Suppose you will be re-writing it tomorrow?"

Her intonation was hopeful. Minerva smiled. Her companion wished for an evening's sleep now. Hermione's letter could wait until the next day.

"Of course," the Professor assured. "I slept like a child with my mother last night. It is only fair I remember how to sleep like an adult grown."

"Grown adults don't merely sleep."

Minerva raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting we attempt something other, you who was only a moment ago so exhausted?"

"I stir quickly." Hooch shrugged one shoulder and gave her easy grin. "And you've finished your homework. It's my first night back in the castle. You...got very good news today. How many more excuses do you require before I resort to puppy eyes?"

Minerva stood and offered her hand, sighing out her amusement. "Four. Skip the puppy eyes when dealing with a cat."

For this second night with a companion—one of an entirely different sort—Minerva did the leading.

Professor McGonagall experienced her annual relief and electric excitement as the students poured into the school once more. There were squealing voices and whispered conversations again. The woman was delighted—it would last all of a day, she predicted.

She was on her third round of the Gryffindor dormitories, helping new students unpack and keeping the elder students behaved in their return celebrations. Each time she started from the top floor with the pesky seventh-years, so likely to attempt smuggling fire whiskey. Minerva couldn't particularly blame them; that didn't mean she would allow it, either. Rules were rules.

When she made it down to the third-year dormitories she heard her name from a familiar voice.

"Professor McGonagall!" Hermione called. She left her trunk and hurried over to the woman. "I never got to send a response. Harry and Ron have some sort of celebration involving chess planned for the evening. May we meet before tea?"

The professor turned and smiled to her student. "Yes, Ms. Granger, how does half four sound?"

"Half four sounds perfect."

"Good. Enjoy the rest of the afternoon."

~*~

Minerva was sifting through lists of insured belongings when she heard a knock on her office door. She dropped the papers back to her desktop and pulled a stack of books and a parcel from the corner of her desk.

"Come in."

The door cracked open. There was a pause before it was pushed open further. Hermione stepped into the room looking nervous and eager simultaneously. She hurried over and stood by the chair across from Minerva's desk, unsure of whether to sit or stand. McGonagall motioned her hand much the way Dumbledore would.

"Have a seat, Ms. Granger." Minerva pushed the belongings toward the student, the books' spines facing the younger female. "Did you see these books mentioned in your research?"

Hermione inspected the titles and nodded, smiling. "I read through some of the bottom. The others I couldn't find with so little connection to the Wizarding world. My parents are supportive but don't know precisely how to help. I still have a lot to learn about finding other magic folk."

She stopped talking and looked down at her hands, slightly flushed.

The Professor smiled.

"These are my copies. Feel free to read through them in your own time. The parcel is the Time-Turner. Have you seen one before?"

"No, I haven't. I read about them once in..." but she stopped speaking. She took a breath and put her fingers gently to one of the spines. "Thank you!"

Minerva raised her eyebrow but gave a patient smile. "How much information did you find?"

"I found some material from Turner through Time and some other books."

"I would like to instruct you on its use. Is now a good time to give a simple tutorial?" McGonagall unwrapped the Time-Turner from its velvet case and placed the necklace above the material.

Hermione gasped to see it. Her hand twitched, but she did not reach to grab it.

"Yes, it would," she answered softly. "I read that it works with multiple travellers but grows more dangerous with each additional person."

"That is true and good to remember." Minerva hid her amused smile. "Although I doubt anyone would be interested in joining you to sit additional classes each day." She stood and stepped around the desk.

The older female draped the long chain around their necks and angled herself to speak comfortably with her charge. She held up the instrument for the adolescent to see, pointing as she spoke.

"There are three possible turns to be made. The only one you are concerned with is the first, for hours. The other two are for days and years. They are not to be touched. If their close proximity to the hour turn bothers you, I'm sure we can find a way to block their use. Perhaps we should do that anyway."

Minerva frowned. She was disappointed to not have thought of this before. It was her job to think of every possible way to protect students. She shook her head ever so slightly.

"Each turn of the hour knob rotates the innermost circle. That puts you back an hour in time in the same location. It is imperative you use it in a discreet and hidden area, although you should not be tempted to use it in the lavatory. It would be an unpleasant surprise. I would suggest a dark corner. Be sure to be back at that location by the time you were set to leave it."

She paused to sort the order of her spontaneous lecture in her mind. "Ordinarily I would warn harshly against getting caught by yourself. In this case it is little concern: your travelling self will expect a returning presence. Such things only get tricky in grander adventures, which you will not be taking.

"I'm going to turn the hour."

McGonagall rotated the inner circle a quarter turn and they witnessed the two of them taking their seats once more. In one quick motion, Hermione's real-time self reversed out of the room and Minerva went back to her work. The fast flow of time stopped.

The seated Minerva looked up.

"You're not setting a very good example, you know," she said to herself. "Start out with a lecture on not getting caught and catch yourself immediately." She looked down to the Hermione who was still in the room. "Please don't take my example to heart."

The standing Professor coughed lightly—she had forgotten her speech that embarrassed herself so—and turned to the student. "We will wait in the corridor behind the statue holding simple school-related conversation, witness you enter the room and wait until the inner circle is back to its vertical position. Then we can enter the room again and hurry into the place we left."

Hermione nodded and ducked out of the necklace when Professor McGonagall held it up. The woman tucked it into her pocket and led the younger female from the room. They slipped into one of the passages behind a nearby statue and waited, both keeping an eye on McGonagall's door to see when the other Hermione entered the office.

They spoke of mundane school topics, primarily Hermione's sated schedule. The Professor smiled to hear her student's enthusiasm.

"Do you have to use the Turner for Transfiguration?" the woman inquired. "I can't recall your timetable presently."

"I don't. I have to use the Turner to get from Transfiguration to Runes."

Minerva nodded her head and asked what subject Hermione was least excited for. The woman chuckled when she heard 'Divinations' with reasonable speed. That sent them quickly into conversation.

Hermione pointed when she saw herself enter the office. The remaining Gryffindor student whispered, "I've gone in, but I don't remember when we used the turner. Does the loop really go back to its original position when the time is through?"

"It does," Minerva confirmed. She gazed down at the object again, which she had removed when her tutee had pointed. "In this case it is easy to tell because we did not make more than one Turn. If we had set it for two hours, for example, it would change temperature and seem to hum slightly when the inner loop returned to the dormant state. You will get used to determining when it is just marking another hour and when it is telling you that the time cycle is complete."

They looked down at the object. The circle was moving very close to vertical. Minerva led them out from behind the statue and took a long gaze around. The corridor was blissfully empty. The necklace glowed slightly and hummed against the woman's palm; she pressed it to Hermione's hand, then pushed the door open and hurried to the spot in the middle of the room. Hermione followed.

"That is how it's done, for the most part. You won't find it much more difficult. Your main difficulty, I predict, will be keeping it secret from your two highly involved friends and not getting caught moving from class to class. I have every faith in you."

"Thank you, Professor McGonagall. Thank you for helping me take the courses I'm interested in."

McGonagall nodded and gave a tight smile. She gathered the books for her student and held them out. "These should cover you for technique, history, rules, regulations and just about anything else. This was a very simple tutorial. When are you best able to commit to another meeting?"

"My schedule is mostly tight except for Saturdays. I am trying to keep Sundays free for work and recreation. May we meet again on a Saturday?"

"Saturday works fine. Is another evening meeting preferable?" The Transfigurations Professor held up her hand to offer back the Time-Turner. Hermione took it slowly, as if too in awe of the powerful artefact to ever grab it without care. Minerva felt the corner of her lip twitch. That was only appropriate. It was a powerful artefact.

"Half four seems best." The girl looked to the clock above and behind the Deputy Headmistress' desk. "Oh! It's nearly time for the feast. You are coming as well, aren't you? Would you like to walk with me?"

The Professor did smile at this. Hermione had always been polite and amicable with her. Minerva turned to look at the clock as well.

"I would, but it would require a detour."

"An adventure? Being friends with Harry and Ron, adventures are pretty dull to me now..." Hermione smiled up. She appeared to realise she had made such a joke with a Professor and her eyes widened. A light blush tinged her cheeks. Minerva merely laughed.

"Quite so. I'm sure there's not much left in Hogwarts that could so excite you as finding the Chamber of Secrets." Minerva picked up a long parchment from the side of her desk and walked toward the door, gesturing Hermione to come. The girl followed.

"I heard it was all bones and snake skin, and that I should be relieved I was petrified. I'm not sure I'll ever share the sentiment, personally." Hermione walked from the room. It was nice to see her smile despite that she spoke of terrible incidents the school should never have faced.

"It was. We had to pay a Parselmouth a small fortune to get us down there. I volunteered to join her. Terrible place. We have sealed it forever. But this is depressing talk for your first evening back!" Minerva exclaimed—her version of exclaimed, in a slightly louder voice—and led the way to Dumbledore's office.

Hermione had been there before, so McGonagall had no fear of bringing her again. Given she was now the holder of a Time-Turner, she would probably find herself in his office many more times, especially as a friend of Harry and Ron. The Professor kindly asked Hermione to carry the stool, more to make her feel useful than anything else. They made their way to the Great Hall.

"Thank you for the assistance, Ms. Granger," the teacher said as she took the stool back from her student. "I imagine Harry and Ron will be happy to see you once more. Hurry along now."

Hermione nodded, smiled and jogged off to meet her friends. Ron greeted her with an over-enthusiastic thump on the back and immediately blushed as she winced.

The danger of friendship with young males, the Professor mused as she went to round up the first years.

Minerva entered the lounge and fell back against the couch. She took a deep breath and craned her neck to look at the ceiling and arch her back. When she heard a crack, she relaxed into the cushion and glanced to the other female in the room.

"Hooch," she greeted, warm given that the utterance was a surname.

"McGongall," she received in return.

"Three more rounds through the night. Every year I forget how exhausting first and last night of terms are."

"As do I."

"You don't have to be awake, you silly old bat."

"This silly old bat is awake for her crazy old cat." Hooch handed over a steaming cup of tea, which was received with a soft smile of pure relief.

"The cat is thankful. But she is not in a hat, and wishes no longer to rhyme."

The two fell into companionable silence as the Gryffindor Head sipped her tea and the Brooms Mistress remained awake for support. They both knew the hawk-eyed woman was easily nocturnal and could stay up through the night even without sensible prompting.

Minerva pulled her legs onto the couch and folded them to her side. She relaxed into the corner of the couch and cradled her tea cup.

"Have I told you about Helen, from my school days? I met her in my third year. I don't remember if I've mentioned her." She did not catch her friend's eyes. "I know I knew you..."

Hooch turned and took in the picture of her friend and lover curled up on the couch, exhausted with tea yet opening up about old school relationships. The short-haired female took her time in responding, knowing neither was in a hurry. "You haven't spoken of it to me, no. I was in Ravenclaw at the time and was acquaintances with Helen. I saw how close the two were of you. We...weren't in the same spheres."

"No, of course not, my Quidditch star." Minerva chuckled and took a last sip of her tea before reaching to place it on the table. She pointed her wand at the fireplace to increase the blaze and then sat back once more, embracing a position that epitomised exhausted comfort. "She transferred third year from Salem School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in America. A Muggle-born witch. Her parents didn't know what to do with her and she had relatives in Bristol. I never expected I could become such fast friends with anyone."

Xi laughed and nodded along, delighted Minerva was in full story mode. It was a rare occurrence. The Quidditch instructor responded, "Nor would I. I only had to spend three years trying to capture your attention for a mere acquaintanceship."

Minerva's eyes twinkled in the firelight as she her smile graced her eyes. "Too true. Hence the shock of Helen being such a catalyst for friendship. Dumbledore suggested that I invite her for Transfiguration study over tea. I did. We worked on assessments about Muggle alchemy. We borrowed the books that the other wanted. We were friends overnight.

"We went to every Quidditch game together, rooted Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, went to Hogsmeade together. Fourth year we each turned down the boys to go to our ball together as friends. Fifth year we decided it was time for us to start dating, so we chose the boys for each other. Hers lasted a year but she said it meant little. Mine never lasted more than two months and eventually Helen ran out of boys she thought would be appropriate for me."

"I know you mentioned dating boys before, but wait a moment as I allow my mind to consider you with a man."

"Man!" Minerva cried, laughing some. "I wouldn't consider it that. You know male Hogwarts students. Boys, not men, the great majority."

The other woman took a sip from Minerva's tea and chuckled as she made a strange mock hissing sound, her eyes still mirthful. She swatted her partner's hand away and settled back.

"I gave up by sixth year. She held on until seventh. The last night of term some Quidditch players smuggled in some firewhiskey and super-sours."

"Oh, yes, sorry about that."

Minerva blinked and smiled slowly. "Ah, of course it would have been you! You've mentioned that before. I should have connected two and two."

"It seems you have difficulties doing that when it comes to Helen." Hooch reached to press her companion's hand and soften the statement. "It's not a criticism, only an observation."

"I can see the same now. She feels lifetimes away. Even within my Hogwarts memories, she is a bubble of existence, floating alone but brushing against all other aspects." She paused to consider what she had mentioned. "Anyway, I don't know what so inspired me, perhaps the legal drinking age, but I joined in the frivolity you inspired."

"You got well tipsy, beyond tipsy! I remember that. We celebrated more when we knew the great Minerva McGonagall and Helen Gregran had fallen to the delights of drinking."

"Oh, that's terrible! My fall as an inspiration for irresponsibility! If I had known it would have that effect I wouldn't have let myself fall to its charms!"

"You would have robbed me of my greatest Hogwarts conquest. And I know a story like this can only continue into something revealing. Spill!"

"I kissed her in the Ravenclaw common room. After a line of boys, my first real, honest kiss was in Ravenclaw common room."

"It has that kissing feel to it, I've always found," Hooch said with a hearty chuckle. "Pity it wasn't with me."

Minerva batted her on the thigh. "Oh, you. As if that wouldn't have ruined your greatest Hogwarts conquest."

"It would have taken the prize." The spike-haired woman winked. "Although I'm most impressed it was kept a secret from even me, the woman who lived as a man. You know Hogwarts better than most. Nothing is a secret."

"Helen always was. I don't know how or why, but it seems she was a secret to everyone but me, a few of the professors and the few boys she went steady with."

"What happened after the kiss?"

"I, in all my Gryffindor bravery and firewhiskey stupor, tried to run away."

"Tried?"

"I forgot I wasn't leaving Gryffindor tower and took a wrong turn. She found me soon after crying behind one of the knight statues, which was patting me on the back. I actually felt comforted."

"Lowest of lows," Hooch agreed, wincing at what Minerva presumed was the idea of being comforted by century-old metal suits. "What happened?"

"She kissed me back. Last night of school after four years of friendship and we finally recognised what had been staring us in the face. It felt too late." Minerva sighed and knit her fingers together over one knee, taking comfort in the linking of fingers, even if only her own. "As you know I lived in America for a time. I had a friend on the west coast, poor town. I wasn't well off despite being clever. Helen came to live with me when she discovered through the grapevine that I was living in America. I hadn't wanted to force her hand, given her previous move had not exactly been her idea.

"We lived together in California for a time but life was so different from Scottish and English living that I didn't feel I could continue. The attempted rape by an American wizard who somehow got the wrong impression from me...that was the last straw. But you knew all that."

Hooch nodded sadly. "I wish you hadn't been faced with that."

Minerva sighed softly, saddened to have to connect her story with such an enraging turning point. "In some ways I do, in some ways I don't. It was unsuccessful, thanks to Helen. That I will always appreciate. It would have taken me too long to return had that event not occurred. I was intelligent before, but after I felt wiser, or at least more prepared. Real life was not Hogwarts.

"I told her I needed to get my head on straight and would be moving back in with my mother. Helen told me she desired nothing more than to come. We lived with my mother for a year and moved to Kent. I thought we were happy. On my 28th birthday she left. There was a speech of sorts, not one I will ever fully understand, but she left in the end. I never saw or heard from her again. She was the central pivot of my life—despite that I tried to keep that from being so—and then she was gone."

"Did you move back in with your mother?"

Minerva shook her head. "I moved in with Irma, actually. I believe I mentioned that. She still jokes with me to try to keep my spirit up, telling me that for the first year she lived with a ghost rather than the 'Great Minerva McGonagall.' She and her partner were angels to put up with me. I know he would rather have had other guests."

"You mentioned it was a longer stay than your others, I think."

"At that point it was. I stayed with them for three years. Charmed her boyfriend, but they broke up just before I left. The first few relationships out of school were always difficult, weren't they? Experimenting with adulthood. I had thought I was lucky with Helen. Apparently that wasn't the case."

"Does it still hurt?" Hooch moved closer. It was not enough to intrude. Minerva appreciated the sentiment.

"It hurts incredibly. It never had an end. She left, but it always felt like an open door. It still does." She sat straighter and rested the other way, leaning slightly against the other woman. "Hermione reminds me of Helen. With the door open in my past, having Hermione around is like witnessing someone different walking back and forth before the door but never entering. It is comforting in knowing that someone is still out there, but painful in that the doorway remains empty."

Xiomara nodded and wrapped her arms around the female before her. "From what little I remember of Helen, I can see the resemblance in Hermione. I am sorry to hear that it is painful. Will this new link of the Time-Turner between the two of you help or hinder?"

"Some of both, I imagine. I would have been attached to her regardless—with or without memories, Harry and Ron, saving the school and Time-Turners. She is an ideal student, at least for an academic instructor. Those types of students are always endearing to teachers if they're doing their jobs right."

"I understand. Just let me know if there is anything I can do. Feel free to speak of it any time, or mention her name and I might know which direction your thoughts move. I will try to help where I can." The athlete leaned to brush her lips against the slouched female's temple.

Minerva looked to the clock above the mantle and gasped. The mood was through in an instant, although neither seemed to regret it. "You could help by reminding me I have rounds!"

"My dear crazy cat, you have rounds. In approximately..." Hooch looked to the clock and smirked, "Five minutes ago."

"You useless old bat. They've probably blown up the dormitories by now or impregnated each other or something terrible."

"You sure have baskets of faith in these Gryffindors of yours. They're probably trying to trick the first-years. Go, go save the future of your pesky upper classes!"

McGonagall stood and turned. She crossed her arms and gave the woman a look. "You will only understand this when Flitwick retires and you are left the Head of Ravenclaw. Then you will not find me so unreasonable."

"That day will never come, and I will always find you unreasonable. I need a hard-headed woman to keep me in line, say the voices of partners past."

"I won't stay to argue with that." Minerva strode toward the door and turned the knob. She shot over her shoulder a soft, "thank you," without looking back. She did not hear the response of, "you're welcome, my love," but she felt it. The reminder of present love was just what she needed, for a portion of her pined for the love of other Hogwarts arms and she had little interest in flittering her time away in self-pity and hypothetical wonderings.