Chapter Text
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.