After

Minerva appeared fashionably early on the doorstep of number 12 Grimmauld Place, smiling ever so slightly at the hastily made sign on the door, covering the number, which read “Temporary location of the Weasley Burrow.”  

She hadn’t been there in over a year, since just after Severus betrayed them, she’d come back to take anything that might be dangerous in the wrong hands and left behind a calling card in case Severus came back. A spectral figure of dust, in the shape of Albus Dumbledore, to be triggered when the door opened and hopefully haunt the guilt-fed nightmares of his killer. She suspected that he never saw it. She had quite forgotten about it herself until she stood on the doorstep again. She had created it in a fit of rage and a strong desire for some kind of revenge, that time in the form of psychological torture. Unfortunately, it likely befell some other poor soul. 

As she knocked on the front door she hoped it hadn’t greeted the Weasleys. It took a moment for someone to answer, which gave Minerva just enough time to start regretting that she had come. 

Thankfully Fleur opened the door and, looking slightly surprised, said, “Ah, Professeur McGonagall, bonjour." 

“Miss Delacou... Of course, I mean Mrs. Weasley,” Minerva corrected herself, she was always forgetting that Fleur had married Bill. Of course, she had been conspicuously absent from the guest list, not even invited, not that she was bitter about it. It was a good thing, really, she couldn’t have gone anyway, far too busy being a teacher, administrator, tactical adviser, spy, etc. 

“I think, professeur, that after all zat we have been through, my given name will suffice,” Fleur said with an undeniably charming air, stepping aside to allow Minerva through the door. 

Minerva managed the slightest of smiles. She was, as yet, unwilling to give her own given name over and did not return with the familiarity of requesting to be called Minerva.  “I will do my best, Fleur.” 

“I expect zat it is very difficult to change from one to ze other,” The newest Mrs. Weasley said understandingly as they entered the dining room from the entryway. Ron, Hermione, and George were gathered around the table there, and all three looked up with undisguised surprise at seeing their former Professor. 

“Judging by your confused and somewhat alarmed expressions I am going to assume that you were not forewarned of my arrival today,” Minerva commented snarkily. “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble… With me anyway,” She added sarcastically. 

“I spect this is about the Ministry trials?” George asked flatly. “I’ll go tell Mum.” He stood up and left the room quickly. Minerva was sure he was a bit embarrassed about the last time they had met. 

“So, you’re in charge of preparing for the hearings, Professor?” Hermione asked, eyes shifting between Ron and the kitchen door that George had disappeared through. Fleur took the spot next to the one George had just hastily vacated. 

“Not entirely,” Minerva answered, stepping further into the room. “Kingsley is working to slow them down, the other professors are working on a viable timeline of events. I’m just here to ask you for your own interpretation of things.” Minerva was phrasing things as gently as she could. When neither of them spoke for a moment she added, “And I heard that some of you might have a few questions that I can answer.” They had better start out on something a little less horrible, just to get them talking. 

“Well, mostly about coming back to school. I’d really like to finish my N.E.W.T.s and possibly add a few extra studies that I’ve found a new interest in,” Hermione answered, precociously as always. There was a new element to her though, she was much more an over-worked young woman than an over-achieving little girl. 

Minerva shook her head and sighed, then looked at the young woman before her with an affectionate air of chastisement, and said, “Hermione, you will be allowed up to and no more than five N.E.W.T level classes. That is the same rule for every student for the last thirty years. Outside of those classes, you may choose two lower-level courses and as many extracurricular programs as feel inclined to study. Though in your case I would encourage restraint.” Ron seemed amused by that last crack. 

Hermione was appalled. “But, Professor, you bent the rule last year and let me sign up for seven N.E.W.T courses, and I…”

“And I have seen the error of my ways, Miss Granger,” Minerva answered, cutting across what would have been Hermione’s rambling excuses. 

“Are you sure that now’s the time to start treating Hermione like everybody else, Professor?” Ron asked laughingly, glancing affectionately at the girl beside him.

“No.” Minerva shook her head regretfully, “In fact, I’m afraid it’s terribly overdue.” 

Thankfully, before Minerva could start over-emotionally apologising for the amount of academic strain she had placed on Hermione in the past, Molly appeared from the kitchen. 

She looked exhausted, and no wonder, like she’d been crying. “Oh, hello, Professor, I’m glad you’re here, but I’m afraid we didn’t quite tell them beforehand.” 

“I surmised as much from the expressions of shock and concern that have greeted me through every doorway,” Minerva answered, trying to maintain some level of her usual persona. She dropped it when she said, “It’s good to see you, Molly.” But that simple sentence said far more than just the words she’d spoken. She expressed concern, empathy, grief, and reassurance in those six words. 

But she hadn’t expected the reaction she got. Molly, who had been dry-eyed if a little melancholy, suddenly had tears welling up in her eyes and drew a shaky breath to try and keep from crying. “Excuse me.” 

Minerva’s expression obviously betrayed her concern. Ron, turning back from watching his mother escape back through the kitchen door, said, “Don’t worry, Professor, it’s been happening all the time. You can’t be nice to her anymore or she goes to bits.” He sounded annoyed in a way that almost covered up how worried he really was. 

Minerva decided that it was now or never, she was going to have to start treating them like adults sometime, so she joked in response, “Yes, well I can understand that. I’ve been that way for decades. Best hope she gets over it or she could turn out like me.” 

Ron seemed to understand the assignment of lightening the mood. He put on a comically horrified expression, “Merlin’s pants. Somebody do something, quick.” 

Fleur swallowed a giggle. Hermione hit his arm and chastened lightly, “Ronald.”

“No, no, he’s quite right,” Minerva said amusedly.

“Ron? Right about something? Impossible.” Bill Weasley descended the last four stairs with a slight grin. 

“Not as rare as you might think, Mr. Weasley,” Minerva answered with a slightly smiling nod to Ron, who seemed to take a little confidence from that. 

Bill just smiled and said, with a note of chastisement that doesn’t usually get directed at her, “Professor McGonagall, aren’t you a little too busy to be stopping by on sympathy calls? I heard you never even left the school.” 

“Not until I had to be dragged out to St Mungo’s,” Minerva answered honestly, but lightly as if it were a joke. She took the hand that Bill held out to her. 

“You’re too much, you know that?” Bill asked laughingly, shaking his head while shaking her hand. 

“It’s been brought to my attention on occasion, yes,” Minerva answered jokingly. She was more serious when she said, “I am afraid, however, that this is not a sympathy call, but preparation for the Ministry hearings beginning in a few weeks' time.”

“Ah, that makes more sense,” Bill said, nonchalantly, “Just making more work for yourself as usual.” He joked, then stepped past her towards where his wife sat at the table. The rest of the group looked at him as if he was insane for the familiar way he was speaking with Professor McGonagall.

“I never make more work for myself,” Minerva answered, turning back to the group, then added sarcastically, “I leave that to other people. There are some who are far more adept at that than I.” 

“And I’m sure the Ministry has some very competent work-makers,” Bill said exasperatedly. 

Arthur Weasley chose that very opportune moment to enter the room from the drawing room. “Competent people working at the ministry?” He asked, “Ha. So far as I know, I’m the only one.” He smiled at the professor, who had been facing away from the door he came through, and flinched slightly when he spoke. “Hello, Professor.” 

“Arthur, it’s good to see you,” Minerva answered, shaking his hand. 

“Yes, well, it’s a relief that you’re here,” Arthur said, still smiling, though it was a bit forced. “These kids are overflowing with questions that I don’t know the answers to.” 

They both turned to the group before them and Minerva asked, “Well?” 

“Do you think a year is enough time to catch up and be able to take the N.E.W.T exams?” Hermione asked, evidently concerned that she wouldn’t be up to the task. 

Minerva slightly confounded by their willingness to return, shook her head, and answered, “You lot are really concerned about coming back, aren’t you?” 

“Yeah, even I’ve given up and decided to finish it out,” Harry answered, coming down the stairs. 

“Have you, Harry?” Hermione asked excitedly as he landed on the first floor. Evidently, this was a new decision.

“Yeah, I mean why not?” Harry asked rhetorically, then explained, “I might as well. You’re both going, Nev’s going, Luna’s even going, Ginny’ll be there. I’d hate to be left out.” 

“Well, Hogwarts will be very glad to have all of you,” Minerva said, somewhat shocked that they would all come back. She had anticipated Hermione’s return, but the others were far less definite. 

“And I will be glad to finish my schooling at Hogwarts under the greatest Headmistress the school has ever seen,” Harry said dramatically, bowing to her. He was hiding his much more sullen mood under the same veneer as the rest of the Weasley Family. 

“Oh dear, where did you get that idea?” Minerva asked, deciding to see if she could get them to believe this lie, “I’m quitting when the building’s back in order.” 

Arthur’s smile fell right off his face. Ron was bewildered. Hermione horrified. Fleur’s expression was gracefully shocked. Bill was befuddled. Harry didn’t believe it for a second.

“No, you’re not,” He said with a lopsided grin that always reminded Minerva of his father. 

His confident refusal was enough to reassure the others slightly. Minerva shrugged, “I don’t know what to tell you, Potter,” she said, trailing off indicatively. 

“You don’t have to tell him anything, you have to tell me that I won’t have to try and learn the hardest bloody subject at Hogwarts from somebody else,” Ron said, disgusted at the idea. “You make hard enough as it is.” He’d clearly decided to take after Bill and drop the formality he’d addressed her with before. 

“Thank you for that assessment, Mr. Weasley.” Minerva decided she’d better give it up before Hermione’s head exploded. “And for the record, it’s going to be much harder now. You missed so much of an average sixth-year curriculum. Your fourth-year education was paltry at best. Let’s not even discuss your fifth year. You all have a lot to catch up on and I am determined to get you to the level I expect from all of my students if it is the last thing I do.” Her tone was somewhere between a reassurance and a threat. 

“Well, I’m glad you’re not giving up on us,” Harry said as the rest of the group sighed with relief. Then he asked jokingly, and tiredly, “But do you think that you could maybe give up on us just a little?”

“No,” Minerva answered plainly.

“Bloody hell,” Ron muttered, dreading the coming workload. 

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Hermione said, with a smile at their professor, “This is going to be fun.” 

Minerva had the slightest of wicked smiles on her face when she said, “Miss Granger, I am going to make you regret that statement.” 

“Challenge Accepted,” Hermione said with that Gryffindor bravado. 

Harry tried to retract her statement, “No. No. Challenge not accepted. Cut it out, ‘Mione.”