Dependably, Solidly Present

They were only a couple of days into the new school year when Minerva was awoken in the wee hours of the morning by a deeply distressed looking Albus Dumbledore. He did not appear to have gone to bed at all that night, for he was still wearing the purple robes that he’d had on yesterday evening at dinner. His half moon spectacles were lopsided and the bright blue eyes behind them seemed both wise and weary.

“What’s wrong?” she asked in alarm.

“Oh, Minerva,” Dumbledore sighed, choosing to linger in the dark corridor rather than take one step into her office.

“There’s Giants in Brighton. They have gone over to Voldemort - not entirely unforeseen, but unfortunate. The muggle prime minister has declared a state of emergency and they’re calling it a Hurricane. Hundreds are presumed dead and countless more are injured. I’m heading there now…I must do what I can…”

“Is Elphinstone there?” Minerva asked, clutching her dressing gown tightly at her throat.

“I’m not sure,” Dumbledore replied. “It was Minchum that I spoke to and he’s begging for reinforcements. I imagine it’s all hands on deck - you know how difficult it is to stun a giant.”

She nodded. “Well, don’t worry about the school...”

“I’m not worried about Hogwarts if you’re here,” said Dumbledore. “Madam Pomfrey was called on to come help the first responders with the injured and she left a few minutes ago. As many healers as can be spared are being routed there. In an emergency, you can call on St Mungo’s Hospital, but tonight is going to be a full moon and Lupin will have to be your responsibility. We can’t risk word -”

“That’s fine, Albus,” Minerva interrupted. “Lupin has been in my house for years and I am certainly capable of caring for him on my own. Just go - and please be careful.”

Dumbledore’s serious face softened for a moment as he gave her a small gracious smile. “What would I ever do without you?”

The feeling was very mutual and had been expressed between them countless times before. Minerva watched Dumbledore’s retreating figure proceed down the corridor with deep admiration and respect in her heart. She then closed the door to her office and crawled back into her bed. Though she didn’t have to be up for another hour, sleep would not come. A knot was forming in her stomach as she imagined the destruction to the seaside and all the people senselessly killed. A show of You Know Who’s power and a message that they would all only remain alive as long as he permitted.

Elphinstone was probably in the midst of everything right now and that terrified Minerva. In the dark, her fingers found a loose thread in her tartan bedspread and played with it absentmindedly as her mind rushed through the worst case scenarios. She wondered if and how the Ministry would manage to conceal this latest catastrophe from the Muggles and restore some semblance of order. Even if they succeeded, it would all be a facade. It was becoming exceedingly clear that the Ministry of Magic only had as much control as He Who Must Not Be Named was willing to give them. How long until even decent minded people bowed down to this tyranny in a bid to save themselves and their families? Professor Dumbledore had addressed this very matter in his speech at the Hogwarts’ welcoming feast two days prior…

“A few months ago, we watched with horror as the Ministry of Magic came under attack - we saw that our leaders were helpless to protect us against the powers of Lord Voldemort. It is very hard to not feel hopeless in circumstances like this and I wish there was more I could say to reassure you that all will be okay. I know some of you might be tempted to surrender to him to be on the triumphing side - but I implore you to hold strong and not let him divide us. Everyday, every hour, this very minute perhaps, dark forces are at work to take over our world…but their greatest weapon will always be you. Do not let him touch your souls.”

Dumbledore’s eyes had swept over the students and a collective shiver had seemed to pass over the entirety of the Great Hall - aside from a select few disgruntled members of the Slytherin table. Dumbledore had never addressed the reality of students leaving school to become Death Eaters quite so blatantly before. He believed in giving everyone a fair chance. The trouble was that You Know Who’s faithful prospective followers would not all be fanatical pureblood supremacists - they would also be people on the margins, who considered him to be their safest bet or only option. Perhaps that was why the Giants had been persuaded to his side. Wizards had not been kind or fair to the Giants and You Know Who was promising them a place in his regime.

When Minerva went down to breakfast, she discovered that the school was already humming with news and rumours about what had transpired in Brighton. Professor Sprout had the Daily Prophet propped up on a bottle of ketchup to read while she ate her bacon and eggs. Minerva took the seat beside her and stole a glance at the article that had somehow made it to print before the situation was even diffused. The pictures were even worse than she’d imagined. Buildings had collapsed - their roofs torn off and people trapped inside. Trees had been uprooted, lamp posts bent, cars passing by had been tossed into the ocean like pebbles.

“Horrible, isn’t it?” Professor Sprout shook her head sadly.

Minerva nodded. There wasn’t anything meaningful she could think to add. She poured herself a cup of tea and nibbled a piece of toast, but found she didn’t have much of an appetite for any of the dishes in front of her. She spent most of breakfast praying an owl would swoop down before her with a letter of reassurance from Elphinstone, but wasn’t surprised when none came. She waited until the rest of the staff had arrived at the table before addressing the matter of Dumbledore’s vacant chair and their currently closed hospital wing - she didn’t want to have to repeat these morning announcements unnecessarily.

“For any illness or mild injury - direct the student to their head of house. As for the situation - try not to say too much. There’ll be enough misinformation being passed around today and we don’t need to contribute.”

Classes would proceed as usual and homework would not be excused. Minerva did not intend to make any allowances on account of the horrors taking place outside the Hogwarts’ grounds. They were at school to get an education and, if anything, the news should only fuel them to work even harder. There was simply no other way to approach this. Unfortunately, Minerva was getting rather experienced at keeping calm and carrying on through wartimes.

She was halfway down the corridor that led to the Transfiguration department when she stumbled upon her niece and Mary MacDonald - the muggle-born girl she had escorted to Diagon Alley over the summer. Both of their robes were emblazoned with the Gryffindor crest. Minerva had been convinced that Kirsty would be a Ravenclaw because of her sharp mind, but her niece had proved her wrong and turned out to be as much of a hat-stall as she herself had been. Kirsty had sat on the stool with the Sorting Hat on her head for nearly six minutes before being placed in Gryffindor.

“Oh good!” Kirsty exclaimed at the sight of her aunt approaching. “The stairs changed on our way down to breakfast and we tried to go a different way but wound up here!”

“We’ve been going in circles, Professor,” Mary added.

“Down this corridor,” Minerva pointed back the way she had come. “You’ll make a left at the portrait of the green robed witch and take the stairs down to the Entrance Hall - but be quick, girls, breakfast is nearly over and you don’t want to be late for class.”

She gave Kirsty a small smile before walking away but didn’t say anything more. Minerva always strived to be a fair teacher and deliberately had been making it a point to not give her niece any special attention. She hadn’t even had an opportunity yet to tell Kirsty just how proud she was to have her in Gryffindor or how delighted she was to see her already making friends with someone as nice as Mary MacDonald.

Being surrounded by people of good conviction was probably one of the greatest defenses to be had these days. After all, it was Severus Snape’s affiliation with people from Death Eater families that had Professor Dumbledore now wary of him. The words of wisdom that the headmaster had spoken their first night back had probably been intended for him more than anyone.

Coincidently, Snape happened to be the first person to arrive for Transfiguration. He reciprocated her greeting with an indiscernible grunt and then took out his quill and buried himself in a book so that she wouldn’t attempt to speak with him further. Minerva still persisted in watching him closely out of the corner of her eye and the room steadily began to fill with more students. This was the first time that she was seeing him up close and she hadn’t forgotten her promise.

“I’m not sure even as powerful a wizard as Dumbledore could take down a giant,” James Potter was saying, as he led a procession of friends and admirers into the room. “And an army of giants - forget it. Spells just bounce off them.”

“Voldemort wouldn’t have even had to offer them much to convince them to go to him,” Sirius Black added, sitting down at a desk at the back of the room nearest the window. “They just like killing - last night was all about fun for them.”

Minerva flinched at the casual way he spoke You Know Who’s name. She hated the sound of it - but that was hardly something that she could admonish Black for. Dumbledore had been trying to get people to use the name for years. So she pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth and pretended to be reviewing her lesson plans, but was really observing Mulciber - who had just stalked into the room and paused by Snape’s side.

“I told you to meet us before class, why didn’t you?” Mulciber spoke in a low voice that Minerva needed to crane her ears to make out.

“I forgot,” Snape muttered softly.

Mulciber’s lip curled and he made a sudden abrupt grab for the book Snape had been writing in since he’d arrived in the classroom.

Snape's face was completely blank as he watched the boy he’d spent most of the summer doing God knows what with aggressively flipping through his private property. They were supposed to be friends - but there was a clear power imbalance between them. Snape seemed completely unwilling to cross Mulciber.

“School has only just started - stop being weird and put that away,” Mulciber ordered crossly, shoving the book hard into Snape’s chest. “And next time, don't forget when I tell you to be somewhere.”

Snape slipped the book into his backpack obediently and withdrew instead the text assigned to the fifth years for Transfiguration. Mulciber took the seat behind Snape, next to Avery - another boy from a family of alleged Dark Lord supporters.

“That will do,” Minerva stood up to address the class when the bell rang. The Gryffindors that had been hanging on Potter and Black’s every word turned their eyes now upon her. The Slytherins were also silent.

“I’m sure by now you all have heard something about what's transpired in Brighton. I don’t want to be responsible for giving you incorrect information when so little is known right now - so we’re not going to discuss giants any further in this classroom. Understood?”

She waited until she saw a few affirmative nods about the room before continuing.

“Now, I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination that will influence your futures for many years to come. If you have not already given serious thought to your careers, now is the time to do so - Miss Evans?”

Lily Evans had just arrived in the class. She seemed slightly out of breath, like she had run the whole way there. “Sorry Professor - I was busy helping some first years find their way to the greenhouses.”

“That’s alright, have a seat,” Minerva waved her into the room.

She would have expected Lily to walk over to sit with the other Gryffindors. Though there were no set rules that stipulated that students must sit with the members of their own house, aside from at meals, it was just the way things were usually done. It wasn’t until sixth and seventh years - when class sizes were much smaller and contained students from all four of the houses - that mingling became more of the standard practice. However, Lily quickly took the vacant chair next to Snape in the front row nearest the door.

“Oh no,” Avery immediately voiced his objection. “Not there -”

“Shut up,” Lily shot right back at him, clearly expecting the confrontation.

“That's enough,” Minerva said sternly.

She glanced at Lily, whose jaw was clenched and who was staring determinedly right back at her. Her striking green eyes were bright and focused. She was taking a clear firm stance against those that treated her like a second class citizen in this school for being muggle born. Perhaps the new prefect badge on her robes was growing her nerve. Perhaps the news of He Who Must Not Be Named employing giants to attack innocent muggles was compelling her to stand up to those that chose to support him. Either way, she had Minerva’s approval and respect.

“As I was saying,” Minerva resumed her lecture, “you cannot pass an O.W.L without serious -’

She saw - rather than heard - the deeply offensive slur ‘Mudbood’ form on Mulciber’s lips as he leaned across his desk at Lily. Avery snickered. Minerva was enraged. She flicked her wand and all the textbooks on every table throughout the room suddenly rose into the air and slammed down loudly making the whole class jump to attention.

“Get out, Mulciber,” she ordered angrily. “Avery, you too. Report to Professor Slughorn.”

Mulciber did not argue - he smirked. Avery guffawed stupidly as he followed him out of the room to receive a slap on the wrist from their head of house. Professor Slughorn was often reluctant to come down too hard on his students - in particular, the students with important parents that he wished to remain on the good side of. It wasn’t that Slughorn condoned any of their behaviour, but that he was afraid of them - or so Minerva suspected.

Lily’s chin was up and she was still staring unblinkingly at Minerva, as though no interruption had transpired - impressively unbowed in the face of such prejudice. Two pink circles had appeared on Snape’s sallow face but his eyes were diverted and it was difficult to know what he was thinking. He’d spent the summer with the likes of Mulciber and Malfoy for company - but had appeared close to Lily Evans for years. Who would he inevitably choose? How long would either side tolerate his closeness to the other?

“You cannot pass an O.W.L without serious application, practice, and study,” Minerva continued grimly. “I see no reason why everybody in this class should not achieve an O.W.L in Transfiguration as long as they put in the work.”

She heard Peter Pettigrew make a sad little disbelieving sound.

“Yes, you too, Pettigrew. There’s nothing wrong with your work except lack of confidence. So…today we are starting Vanishing Spells. These are easier than Conjuring Spells, which you would not usually attempt until N.E.W.T level, but they are still among the most difficult magic you will be tested on in your O.W.L.”

The class soon discovered that she was quite right. By the end of the double period, only a handful of students had managed to vanish the snails on which they were practicing. Potter had successfully vanished his snail on the second attempt, which had earned him ten points for Gryffindor. Black was right behind him.

Though both Snape and Miss Evans had their wands out, Minerva hadn’t actually observed either of them attempting the spell. Their primary focus appeared to be on the whispered conversation that they were having and Minerva had decided to leave them to it.

“You didn’t even say hi to me on the train,” she heard Lily hiss at one point.

“I didn’t see you,” muttered Snape.

“Yes, you did,” scowled Lily. “You just pretended not to because you were with them.”

At the end of the lesson, Minerva walked around the room with a pail to collect all the snails in their various stages of Transfiguration.

“Well, I think mine looks a bit paler,” Lupin shrugged.

“It’s a good start,” Minerva assured him.

She thought any paleness to the snail was nothing compared to how sickly Lupin appeared that particular morning. If any of her other students had shown up to class looking like him, she’d have ordered them straight back to bed - but Remus Lupin did not have that luxury. He was always unwell and exhausted in the days preceding and following a full moon but he never complained.

“Madam Pomfrey is away so you’re to report to my office after dinner,” she told him discreetly before moving on.

Minerva had never actually been inside the Shrieking Shack before. It was accessed through a secret passage concealed by the Whomping Willow - a very valuable and violent tree, which would attack anyone that came within range of its branches. Dumbledore had had it planted the year that Lupin came to Hogwarts and it effectively kept everyone far away from the dangerous werewolf.

Lupin came to find her immediately after dinner as ordered. As they walked out of the castle and through the grounds together, Minerva placed a hand on his shoulder and took care to avoid the other students. Though his classmates could hardly fail to notice his frequent absences, every precaution was taken to protect Lupin’s secret and shield him from the inevitable shame and scorn that would come if the word ever got out. Werewolves were feared and despised throughout the Wizarding World - it was too much to hope that Lupin’s misfortune would be met with compassion rather than calls to have him ousted from Hogwarts.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, Professor,” Lupin answered politely.

He looked so much worse than he had even that morning though. Minerva wasn’t quite sure how he had the stamina to keep putting one foot in front of the other, yet he never faltered or asked for a moment to catch his breath. When they reached the Whomping Willow, Minerva charmed a stick to fly over and push on the knot at the base of its truck which would temporarily immobilize it. Then Lupin led the way through the long passageway and into the shack that he was to be confined in - and it was as horrible as Minerva had imagined it to be.

Paper was peeling from the walls; there were blood stains all over the floor; every piece of furniture was broken as though somebody had smashed it. Minerva’s eyes fell on a wooden chair near them. Large chunks had been torn out of it, one of the legs had been ripped off entirely. The windows were all boarded up.

“You just have to seal the door behind you when you leave,” Lupin explained matter-of-factly, slumping down onto a scratched up stool with a sigh of relief. “I won’t be able to get out then.”

Minerva nodded, feeling both impressed and saddened at the calm and accepting way Lupin spoke of his situation. She knew that his transformations were terrible and extremely painful. Hogsmeade believed the Shrieking Shack to be haunted because of the screaming and the noises he made during the ordeal. At the end of the night, a wounded boy would be lying in the werewolf’s place and there was nothing anyone could do to relieve his suffering.

“I’ll be back first thing in the morning,” Minerva reminded him.

She left feeling extremely guilty. She felt like she was abandoning him as she locked him up and returned to the castle, thinking about his parents and how they had never believed a boy like him would be able to come to Hogwarts. Minerva couldn’t imagine being in their shoes - how it would feel to imprison your own son every month and then listen helplessly to his screams from the other side of a door.

She didn’t feel like socializing with the rest of the staff tonight. Everyone was too distressed to be very good company right now, and she was still annoyed with Slughorn for letting Mulciber off with nothing more than a detention - and Avery hadn’t been punished at all.

“It was bold of me to even assign detention,” Slughorn had argued at dinner. “Several members of my house already complain that you have it out for them and you don’t want Mulciber’s father to show up at the school any more than I do.”

It was impossible to ignore who was really running the show in Slytherin, but Minerva doubted that Dumbledore would take the situation in hand even if she did complain - he simply had too much else to worry about. She supposed they all did.

An owl from Elphinstone had finally gotten through, but it had been void of any real information and - by the state of his penmanship - clearly written in a hurry.

“Sweetheart…I’m alright, but will be away from my desk and hard to reach until the worst of this is settled. I’ll be in touch when I can…”

Minerva whiled away the evening with a hot bath and then a book in bed, persistently aware of the full moon lighting up the sky outside her window. She tossed and turned that night, wondering when Dumbledore would return and whether her parents had figured out that the Hurricane that had come without warning had really been the work of Dark creatures.

At first light, she was on her way back to the Shrieking Shack. She didn’t want to leave Lupin alone for one more minute than was necessary and went in just as soon as she could be certain he had resumed his human form.

She had to go up the crumbling staircase to the second story of the house to find him and she discovered it to be every bit as damaged as the downstairs. Lupin lay on the floor in a pool of his own blood with his robes reduced to shreds. The walls of the Shrieking Shack showed fresh claw marks of impressive depths and it was horrible to imagine claws like that attacking soft flesh. Minerva couldn’t tell if he was sleeping or if he’d knocked himself out.

She sucked in her breath and felt panic rise inside her. She knew that he’d be in bad condition and thought she'd been prepared for what she’d see on arrival, but she had forgotten to consider all the efforts Madam Pomfrey made to heal him before permitting visitors. Perhaps she had been too arrogant in her assurances to Dumbledore that this was something that she could handle. But then Minerva remembered that there really hadn’t been another option. She could hardly have asked either Dumbledore or Poppy to come back from a battlefield to attend to Lupin because she was squeamish.

“Professor McGonagall?”

He must have sensed her presence because Lupin’s eyes suddenly cracked open - bloodshot and bruised.

“Hello, Mr Lupin,” said Minerva grimly, as she knelt down on the floor beside him and her eyes locked onto his visibly mauled hand.

She had a basic comprehension of healing spells. It wasn’t terribly difficult for her to knit wounds together or staunch the bleeding - but she struggled to know where to begin when his whole body seemed to have been a target for the werewolf's fury. His right hand had gotten the worst of it so Minerva decided to start there. His index finger was almost dangling, it had nearly been bitten off and the bone was clearly fractured.

“You’re excused from writing any essays until that hand is better,” Minerva told him, trying to make light of how horrified she was that the beast within him could do such a thing.

She cradled his mangled hand in her lap and focused intently on lining up his finger the way it should be. Then took a deep calming breath before performing a spell she had only ever learned in theory. “Brachio Emendum”.

There was a loud crack as the fracture in his finger was repaired. A small sob escaped through Lupin’s lips before he bit it back with impressive courage and dignity. Minerva barely heard him. She was now wholly concentrated on her work - even if it wasn't work she was ordinarily accustomed to. She realized she could do this and all doubt and discomfort fled as she ran her wand up and down his body to heal every bite, scratch, and clean away the dried blood caked all over his skin.

“I’m sorry for this,” Lupin said after a long while.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Minerva murmured, not taking her eyes away from the gash on his chest her wand was sewing back together.

“Lupin, students like you are the reason I wanted to become a teacher in the first place. Just like Professor Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey, I’d do anything to ensure you can keep coming to school and be safe here. I’m only sorry that this has to be such an enormous part of your life.”

“I’m used to it,” Lupin said, as he did after nearly every full moon if she expressed sympathy or concern. “You can get used to practically anything.”

“I’m not sure that would be the case for everyone…you're very brave,” Minerva replied, as she smoothed his sandy hair back to better examine the damage done to the side of his neck.

There were deep claw marks extending all the way down to his collarbone. She hoped it wouldn’t leave another scar and thought it wouldn’t with a heavy application of Bruisewort Balm as soon as they got back to Hogwarts.

“Let's get you to the castle, shall we?”

She froze when she realized that there was no easy way to do that. Poppy used a portkey, but Minerva hadn’t thought to borrow the hospital wing's or ask Dumbledore to make one for her. She needed to get Lupin into her office, but also not allow anyone to see him in this state. She didn’t want to carry or levitate him because it would draw too much attention if anyone saw them - though nobody should. It was still too early for Hogwarts’ other occupants to be awake.

“I can walk,” Lupin said, as though reading her mind.

“No,” Minerva said at once.

“I can,” he insisted stubbornly.

He got up from the floor with some difficulty - but with more strength than Minerva would have expected. She quickly went to his side and put an arm around his shoulders.

“You’re sure?” she asked skeptically.

Lupin nodded so Minerva began to guide him down the broken staircase and into the passageway that would lead back to the grounds beyond the Whomping Willow. Lupin leaned on her the whole way but seemed determined to stand firm on his own two feet as much as was possible. Halfway to the castle, Minerva discreetly performed a lightning charm on him as she was now supporting most of his weight. Still Lupin kept moving forward.

“You’re going to stay in my office today,” she told him, once they were mercifully back up the stairs and in the corridor that led to Gryffindor tower.

“Where is Madam Pomfrey?” Lupin asked, each word an effort to say between panting breaths.

“She went to help those injured by the giants,” Minerva replied honestly, then opened the door to her office. Lupin did not ask any follow-up questions. His efforts to walk were costing him everything he had.

The passage to her private quarters was sealed again, like it always was when she wasn’t home, but Minerva opened it to give Lupin access to the bathroom. She didn't want him having to venture out into the corridors. She then pointed her wand at the chair in front of her desk and it immediately became a standard size bed with crisp white sheets, pillow, and blanket. It made the office extremely crowded, but it wouldn’t matter for one day. Lupin could have the place to himself and once the worst of his injuries were healed and he’d gotten some rest, he could move back into his dormitory.

“Can I switch your robes for something more comfortable?” Minerva asked, once she'd helped him settle into the bed.

Lupin nodded his consent so Minerva pointed her wand at him and the torn school robes were immediately replaced by the blue and white striped pajamas everyone wore when they stayed in the hospital wing.

“Okay now…potions,” Minerva said, more to herself than to Lupin.

She'd collected all the ones she knew he'd need yesterday between classes. Pain Reliever, Blood Replenisher, and Pepper Up. So accustomed to this routine he was, Lupin scarcely glanced at the label on each vial before downing its contents.

“Why did you make me a prefect?” Lupin asked suddenly.

Minerva was surprised by the question. She reached for the jar of Bruisewort Balm and unscrewed the lid to dip her fingers in the orange sticky paste.

“I found it to be a rather easy decision, actually,” Minerva finally answered, perching herself on the edge of the bed to begin coating the claw marks down his neck with the scar reducing salve. “You disagree?”

“I'm not a leader,” Lupin said, after a long pause.

“Maybe you should be,” Minerva replied, taking care to get an even coating along his collarbone. “Your friends could stand to learn a few things from you.”

“James and Sirius?” Lupin’s bloodshot eyes widened. “No…they're better than me in everything.”

“Mmm…but you're kinder,” Minerva countered.

“They can be very kind,” Lupin said defensively. “They've always been great to me. They're the best friends a person could ask for.”

Satisfied with the application to his neck, Minerva now coated her fingers in the paste again to treat his mawled hand. He offered it to her without Minerva even needing to ask. She took special care to apply an even layer around his mended finger and watched it harden into a protective shell.

“Make no mistake, I thoroughly enjoy having both Mr Potter and Mr Black in Gryffindor,” Minerva said, once she stood up and put the lid back on the jar of Bruisewort Balm. “I think they have many wonderful qualities, but some flaws that made me reluctant to give either of them more power in this school.”

“They wouldn't have wanted to be prefects anyway,” Lupin replied, leaning back against the pillow in exhaustion. “They said it would have ruined their reputations to be made prefects.”

“No doubt,” Minerva said dryly. “I'd like to see you use this opportunity to exercise some influence over your friends and realize that you don't have to follow along with everything they do. They'll still be your friends if you don't.”

Lupin nodded, but Minerva wasn't sure how much of what she’d said he actually agreed with. He worshiped James Potter and Sirius Black. She hoped this new appointment would inspire more confidence in this gentle boy.

“Alright then,” she nodded her head. “I want you to get some rest now - unless you'd like some breakfast first?”

“No, thank you,” Lupin shook his head.

“Very well,” said Minerva, “you can eat when you wake up. If I'm not here, there'll be something on the desk.”

Lupin winced as he shifted in the bed to find a more comfortable position, but was asleep before Minerva even walked around her desk to sit down. She conjured breakfast sandwiches and a pot of tea from the kitchens and ate at her desk so that she wouldn’t have to leave Lupin unattended to go down to the Great Hall.

Her morning had been challenging but fulfilling in the most meaningful kind of way and it felt good to know that her contribution made it possible for Dumbledore and Poppy to do their own important work. That was how she'd do her part for the Order and it suited her perfectly fine to be out of the spotlight. Just dependably, solidly present - that was more than enough for Minerva McGonagall.