HP: Night of the Wolf

For a moment, Minerva thought that she was in trouble. She hadn't ever been unexpectedly called to the headmaster's office, and though she couldn't fathom what the man would want with her, she couldn't think of any transgression against the school she had been a part of.

Charlus, and more recently Harry were the mischievous members of the group, but neither of them had been involved in anything that would warrant a summoning either.

With the NEWTs fast approaching, the Gryffindors had busied themselves with their preparations leaving the girl stumped.

"Come in, Minerva," the voice of the headmaster called as she knocked on his door.

She entered the room to find it occupied by the man the office belonged to, and Professor Dumbledore.

"Is something wrong, headmaster?" Minerva asked nervously.

She had always been a model student, and both when were looking very serious indeed.

"Not at all," Professor Dippet replied, offering her a smile that quelled her nerves somewhat. "Please, take a seat, we merely wish to discuss something with you."

Minerva did so and waited for one of the men to speak. It was Dippet that obliged.

"Shortly before last term came to an end, Albus and I had a discussion regarding you. In short, I would like for you explain what your intentions are when the school year comes to an end?"

Minerva had been pondering this very thing.

She wished to find a position where she would be able to explore her love of transfiguration but had been unsuccessful thus far. Very few opportunities existed, not unless she looked further afield and left England to apprentice under a master in the art.

"I don't know," she admitted with a sigh.

Dippet hummed as he nodded.

"Then Albus and I would like to offer you a position in the school as his assistant."

Minerva frowned, unsure of what that would entail.

"Professor Dumbledore's assistant?"

Dippet nodded, a bright smile cresting his lips.

"You would help him with teaching and preparing his classes and continue to study under him for a Mastery in transfiguration," he explained. "I'm afraid the salary would not quite match that of a professor, but it would be sufficient."

"So, an apprenticeship?" Minerva asked excitedly.

"For lack of a better term, yes, but it would be a working apprenticeship," Dumbledore explained.

"But you've never had an apprentice," Minerva pointed out.

"I have never had a student as dedicated as yourself," Dumbledore returned. "Armando and I agree that your hard work over these past years should be rewarded, and I believe that the students of the castle should also benefit from your talents in the years to come. You need not give an answer…"

"I accept!" Minerva cut him off. "I'd be a fool not to."

Dumbledore smiled warmly, as did the headmaster.

"Then we shall discuss the details after you have completed your NEWTs," the latter declared, "but from the bottom of my heart, I am pleased that you are keen for the opportunity."

Minerva was in shock but not so much that she did not accept the offered hand before all but skipping towards the door.

"If you are returning to the common room, could you please send Mr Potter along? It would save one of the elves the journey," Dippet called.

Minerva nodded and took her leave of the office, a sense of relief and joy filling her.

She couldn't wait to tell the others.

(Break)

"Bollocks to this!" Tiberius huffed.

He was revising for his NEWT in charms.

He was by no means terrible at the subject, but the repetitive practicing of the same spells and re-reading of passages of had begun testing his patience.

"Take a break, Ogden," Charlus urged calmly. "You will do yourself no favours by forcing it."

Tiberius huffed but nodded gratefully.

It wasn't the first time he'd had such a moment and it wouldn't be the last. Poppy, Minerva, and Augusta too had almost been broken by the stress of the upcoming exams, but they managed to pull through it after a few moments of panic.

It was merely Ogden's turn.

"You're right," Tiberius agreed. "I'll take a few minutes and stretch my legs around the greenhouses. Maybe something will eat me, and I won't have to worry about exams anymore."

Both Harry and Charlus laughed as the boy left the common room, only for Minerva to enter before the door had closed, her skin paler than usual.

"Are you okay?" Charlus asked.

Minerva nodded.

"Professor Dippet would like to see you," she informed him.

"Go," Harry encouraged, "I'll make sure she's alright."

Charlus nodded and exited the common room leaving Harry with the seemingly shocked girl.

"Shall wo go for a walk?" he questioned. "I could do with getting out of here for a while."

Minerva nodded, and Harry took her by the hand.

Following in Charlus and Tiberius's footsteps, the left they tower where Harry then led her through the castle and out onto the grounds enjoying the fresh air of late spring.

Minerva had yet to say a word, so he allowed her a few moments before speaking once more.

"What happened?"

They were a short distance from the edge of the forest when Minerva stopped and looked up at him. She was smiling a smile that spoke volumes of the emotions she was experiencing.

There was relief, happiness, and many other things that flashed across her features, but what Harry was drawn to were the tears in her eyes.

"Professor Dippet offered me a job."

"A job?"

Minerva nodded.

"I didn't know what I was going to do when this year came to an end. I've been thinking about it for months, and was no closer to anything," she explained. "Ever since I had my first lesson in transfiguration, I knew that it was what I wanted to do. I fell in love with it and have dreamed about becoming a professor since."

"And now you will be."

Minerva shook her head.

"Not quite, but it's a start," she replied. "I'm going to be Professor Dumbledore's assistant. I'll be able to get a mastery and maybe one day teach here."

"And that is what you want?"

"More than anything," Minerva answered. "It's all just a little overwhelming."

It was.

The tears spilled down her cheeks and Harry placed an arm around her shoulders.

"You deserve it," he whispered.

Minerva said nothing for a few moments, but when she wiped her tears away, she looked at him once more.

"Did you know this would happen?"

"No," Harry answered honestly.

"But you know more than you've told me."

Her words were not accusing, and there was no bitterness in them. She had spoken softly, almost pleadingly.

"I do," Harry confirmed, "but there is nothing that I would tell you. I do not want to ruin your journey for you."

Minerva smiled at him again.

"But my journey is different from the one you know."

"How?" Harry asked with a frown.

"Because you're a part of it," Minerva answered simply.

Her words warmed him, and the impish smile more so.

She was such a far cry from the stern woman he had known with her tight bun, thin lips, and looks of disapproval.

Had something happened to make her such a way?

Harry knew not.

As much as Minerva believed he knew the details of the life she had lived, he didn't. She had only ever been Professor McGonagall, the respected and sometimes feared deputy headmistress, and head of Gryffindor house.

Beyond that, he knew nothing about her.

Having spent almost two years around her now, he felt he knew her better here, well, the young vibrant woman he spent much time with.

She was and would remain his confidant, and as much as he had grown to care for Charlus and the others, it was Minerva he had grown closest to.

"Come on, shall we go for a fly?"

Minerva raised an eyebrow at him.

"You made it quite clear that the Quidditch match you played last year would be the only time," she reminded him.

He had.

Charlus and the rest of the team had all but begged him to take up the vacant seeker position on the house team for their final year, but Harry had refused.

As much as he had enjoyed the single foray back into the sport, it did not feel right to play anymore. Without Fred, George, Ron, and the chasers he had played with over the years, his heart was no longer in it.

He missed them all still, and Quidditch had been what he'd shared with them most.

It felt almost insulting to play without them, and somehow wrong.

"Flying is not Quidditch," he pointed out.

Minerva hummed, but began walking towards the stadium, nonetheless.

"So, you'll get to be at Hogwarts still?" he asked, changing the subject back to a more pleasant topic. "Won't your parents be upset that you're not going home?"

Minerva's posture stiffened slightly and her expression tensed.

"They won't mind so much," she muttered. "It will be easier than going back to the village."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to…"

Minerva waved him off and sighed.

"My relationship with them has been strained since my Hogwarts letter arrived. She won't admit it, but I know my mother was hoping that I'd be a squib so that she could keep hiding what she was from my father."

"A squib?"

Minerva nodded.

"She never told him that she was a witch, not until my accidental magic couldn't be explained away anymore. He didn't take it well. I told you that he is a muggle minister. He believes in a god that, according to the bible he follows, deems us to be monsters," she snorted. "He's spent years being torn by his religion, and his love for me and my mother. It makes things hard for him."

Harry nodded his understanding.

"So, being away is just easier. One less witch in the house can only be good for him."

"I doubt that's true," Harry returned.

"Maybe," Minerva agreed with a shrug, "but ever since then, I feel like I'm living a lie when I'm there. Hogwarts has become my home, Harry. Can you understand that?"

"I can," he sighed. "Getting away from my muggle relatives was the best thing that happened to me. They despised magic, and me for what I am. They tried to 'beat the magic out of me', and failed," he added with a chuckle.

Minerva's nostrils flared.

"They did what?"

"It doesn't matter," Harry said dismissively. "They've not even been born yet, and I certainly don't plan on visiting them in the future."

Minerva did not seem to want to let the subject drop, but she didn't comment on it further whilst they neared the stadium.

"You know, I told my mother about you," she revealed. "It's the first time we have spoken about anything to do with Hogwarts other than when I asked permission to stay here for the summer holidays."

"Did you tell her that I'm better than you on a broom?"

Minerva narrowed her eyes at him challengingly.

"I'm not going to tell you what we spoke about now," she huffed, unlocking the broom shed with a tap of her wand and retrieving them both something to ride.

"Did you tell her I was better than you at transfiguration?"

She laughed this time.

As good as Harry had become, Minerva was better, and she knew it.

"Keep telling yourself that," she replied, patting his cheek before she mounted her broom and took to the sky.

Harry could only shake his head as he followed her, catching up to the girl.

"You can't not tell me," he called.

Minerva offered him a grin.

"You'll have to catch me if you want me to talk," she returned, streaking ahead.

Not one to back down from such a challenge, Harry pursued her, and the chase was on.

For a while, Minerva managed to evade him, and though she was indeed better than him at transfiguration, Harry was the better flier.

He caught up with her on their seventh turn of the Quidditch pitch, snagging her broom's tail enough that he managed to overtake.

"That's cheating," Minerva growled, her Scottish brogue as prominent as ever.

"What are you going to do about it?" Harry replied with a grin.

He heard her mutter, though he couldn't make out what she said. What he did know, however, was that her stubbornness would not let her lose without putting up a fight.

She was pursuing him now, and try as she might, she couldn't catch him.

Eventually, she reluctantly gave up and flew to the stands where Harry joined her.

"You still have transfiguration," he comforted.

Minerva nodded, still scowling, but a grin tugging at her lips.

"True," she acknowledged, "and you did catch me."

"So, what did you tell your mother about me?"

"I'm not going to stroke your ego that much," Minerva mumbled, blushing slightly, "but she likes what she heard. She thinks you're nice. Mind, she hasn't met you yet."

"I'm sure her eyes would be opened then," he replied dryly.

"Probably," Minerva agreed, "but I will not allow my mother to think me a liar. If you were to meet her, you would be on your best behaviour. Whatever that is."

Harry laughed and nodded.

"I won't tell her about the first time we met," he promised, "or supervising your transformations. If your father found out, he'd probably try to perform an exorcism on me. Then again, rather that than anything else he might do," he added.

Minerva swatted his shoulder playfully.

"My father is the kindest man you would ever meet," she said longingly. "The worst he would do would have you attend a confession to save your soul."

"How long has he got for me to confess my sins?" Harry murmured amusedly.

Minerva gave him an odd look.

"Has your life been that bad? I mean, I know the time travel thing, having to change your name, and pretending to be someone you're not can't have been easy…"

Harry cut her off with a snort.

"These have been the easiest two years of my life," he said sincerely. "Before this, I've had people try to murder me, I've been attacked by all manner of creatures, and was entered into the tri-wizard tournament against my will. I watched as someone I thought of as a friend was murdered in front of me. No, as much as I still miss my friends, these have been the best two years I've had here," he explained, nodding towards the castle in the distance.

He turned to see Minerva looking at him, wide-eyed, her expression one of horror.

"Is that true?"

Harry released a deep breath, deflating as he nodded.

"It is," he confirmed, "and that isn't really the half of it."

"I don't even know what to say," Minerva replied sadly, taking him by the hand. "How have you not broken?"

Harry offered the girl a sad smile.

"I am broken," he said truthfully. "I lost too many people I care about to those that wanted to harm me."

"Is that why you want to be a Hit-Wizard? To stop bad people like the one's you've met?"

"Not really," Harry answered unashamedly. "I want to do it because I'll be good at it, and there's a part of me, as much as I hate it, that has grown to love the danger of the situations I've found myself in. I don't know why, but I suppose it is just a part of who I am."

"So, you're really going to do it?"

Harry nodded.

"With some of the things I know, I can make a difference, hopefully for the better."

Minerva looked upon him with something akin to sadness now.

He had so much weight bearing down on his shoulders, but Harry merely took it in his stride.

"Then I won't try to stop you, even if I think I could convince you," she said with a smile.

Harry nodded appreciatively.

"You'll be here where you should be, and I'll be where I'm needed too."

The thought of Harry being away from the castle didn't sit right with Minerva, but she'd promised she would not try to convince him otherwise.

"Where you came from, was I a professor here?" she asked, not truly expecting an answer.

Harry pondered her question for a moment before shaking his head in mock frustration.

"Do you really want to know?"

"I do," Minerva confirmed. "It's like I said, my journey is already different with you being here. I don't suppose it will be exactly the same if you plan on sticking around."

"Fine," Harry sighed, "but no more questions if I answer."

"Agreed."

"You were the transfiguration professor here."

"And did I teach you? Was I a good professor?"

"I said no more questions," Harry reminded her. "All I will say, is that I never imagined I would enjoy your company as much as I do, not that I thought I would meet you in these circumstances."

"Am I really that different?"

"You're sixty-years older there, Minerva," Harry pointed out.

She stiffened slightly.

"God, I hadn't thought of it like that," she gasped. "This must be really strange for you."

"It was at first," Harry agreed, "but not so much anymore. I've gotten used to seeing you like this and being your friend instead of being terrified of being called to your office."

"If that happened, then you must have been a troublemaker," Minerva laughed.

"You could say that," Harry mused aloud.

It wasn't as though he hadn't broken more than enough rules to have rightfully been expelled several times over.

"I'm glad you're here, Harry," Minerva spoke, breaking into his thoughts. "You've made my last two years of school better than the others."

"I suppose I'd best visit," Harry quipped. "We can't have you being unhappy."

"Or me," Charlus interjected, thumping Harry playfully on the shoulder as he reached them. "What? Where the hell else would I find you two lurking around?"

"He has a point," Minerva sighed. "Anyway, what did Professor Dippet want?"

"He wanted to see if I'd be interested in working with Dumbledore next year whilst learning to run the family. I said I'd discuss it with my father, but I don't see why not. It would be nice to still be here."

"Then that makes two of us," Minerva informed him.

Charlus nodded.

"Dippet mentioned you're staying on, and I'm glad for it. I couldn't think of you being anywhere but here."

"Me either," Minerva concurred.

"Well, it could always be three of us," Charlus declared. "They want to see you next," he explained to Harry.

Harry released Minerva's hand.

"I'll meet you back in the common room when I'm done."

"Good luck," Minerva called.

"Do you think he will accept?"

Minerva shook her head.

"No, he won't," she sighed. "Harry has his plans, and they don't involve being at Hogwarts when the school year is finished."

"So, we just let him go?"

Minerva said nothing.

She didn't wish for him to leave, to undertake perhaps one of the most dangerous jobs in their world, but he had his mind set on it, and there was nothing that would change that.

(Break)

"I do not believe this conversation will bare the fruit we are hoping for," Armando mumbled as he heard footsteps ascending the staircase outside his office.

"Alas, I agree with you, old friend," Dumbledore replied.

"Come in, Harry," the headmaster called.

The boy entered, though as Armando gazed upon him, he no longer stood such. In the almost two years he had been here, he had grown to be something unrecognisable to the timid, grieving lad that had arrived that fateful night in June.

He stood proudly now, taller, broader, and healthy.

"Let it not be said that you aren't thriving," Armando greeted him. "It seems like it was only yesterday that you came through that very door, lost, and afraid."

Harry chuckled.

"I'm still lost," he replied, "not so much afraid."

"I don't suppose you are with your choice of career," Albus broke in.

Harry sighed.

"Is that what this is about?"

"Partly," Armando acknowledged.

"We are merely concerned, Harry," Dumbledore added. "Is there nothing we can say to make you rethink your intentions?"

Harry shook his head.

"If you knew what was coming you would understand why I'm doing what I am," he said frustratedly. "You might even stop resting on your own laurels and do something about it yourself."

"I do not follow," Dumbledore replied, a frown of confusion creasing his brow.

"People are going to die, Professor," Harry returned, accentuating the man's title, "more people than you can imagine. I understand that you can't fathom what is coming but it will be like hell on earth for muggles and wizards. I cannot just sit back and allow it to happen."

Albus looked at Armando concernedly.

"I understand why you feel that you can't help, Professor," Harry continued, the hostility in his voice having faded. "I didn't at first, and I was angry with you, maybe I still am, but I do get it. It wasn't until I put myself in your position that I got it."

"Got what, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

"Grindelwald. He was your friend."

Dumbledore's mouth fell agape.

"I suppose you knew that before you arrived?"

Harry shook his head.

"I had no idea," he said sincerely. "It wasn't until I met Bathilda Bagshot that I learned of it, and everything fell into place."

"I see."

"And so do I," Harry sighed tiredly. "That is why I can't do nothing. That is why I'm doing what I am. Besides, I'll be quite good at it. If anyone here can understand that, it should be the two of you."

"I do not doubt you will be, Harry," Armando offered truthfully. "I merely do not wish for you to fall afoul of whatever it is that is happening on the continent."

Harry laughed humourlessly.

"Honestly, with my luck, I think we can almost guarantee that it will happen. Trouble seems to find me," he explained. "I can only imagine how much of it I'll face when I go looking for it."

"Then why do it?" Armando questioned.

Harry chuckled to himself, a look of realisation dawning across his features.

"Because dark times lie ahead, and I have to choose between what is easy, and what is right," he muttered. "Someone I looked up to said that once, and I only now understand what he meant. Maybe my efforts will be for nothing, but I cannot make things worse than what they will be if I do nothing."

There was little else that Armando could say, and he and Albus watched as Harry took his leave from the office, evidently having discussed the matter as much as he was willing to.

"Fruitless indeed," the headmaster sighed.

Dumbledore nodded morosely.

"For a man so young, he sees the world through the eyes of one much older."

The two men stiffened as a series of crashes and screams rent the air from somewhere nearby the office, and both sprinted towards the sound of the commotion with their wands drawn.

What they came upon was quite unsightly.

Three of the seventh year Slytherin students were unconscious amongst a scattering of debris that had been ripped from a nearby wall, and two others were being held at sword point, each by a suit of armour that decorated the hall.

The last, Basil Parkinson, had been seized around the throat by Harry who was nose to nose with the boy.

"You fucking idiot," Harry spat. "Did you not learn anything from last year?"

Before Armando or Albus could intervene, Harry had rammed his knee into the sternum of his captive, and then into his nose as he doubled over.

"THAT IS ENOUGH!" the headmaster shouted as Harry turned his wand on the downed Slytherin.

"They attacked me!" the Gryffindor defended.

"And it is them that are worse for it," Armando pointed out. "Let them go, Mr Evans. I will deal with them."

Reluctantly, Harry did so, offering his peers a final look of loathing before storming away.

"And the punishment for him?" Albus asked.

"For defending himself? I will not punish him for that," Armando denied. "These boys have reaped what they have sown."

Albus, though he did not voice it, did not approve of Harry's actions.

Nor did Armando for that matter, but it was hard to feel any sympathy for the Slytherins that had brought it on themselves.

(Break)

Being on the continent had never been something that Orion Black had enjoyed much. If anything, he always viewed his visits here as a necessary hindrance of being the Lord of such a prominent family. Were it not for the many business interests that one of his ancestors had invested in, he wouldn't have bothered.

Now, however, he was quite enjoying his time in Bulgaria. The food was not always to his taste, and the folk here were much simpler, but watching Gellert Grindelwald run his vast operation was a joy to see.

Orion respected ambition, and though he'd had his doubts from time to time whether Grindelwald could even gather enough support to make his efforts come to fruition, he'd been proven wrong.

Men and women came from far and wide to pledge themselves to him. Amongst them were French, Germans, and he'd even met a few fellow countrymen that had made the journey. He'd even spotted people from the middle east.

Word of Gellert's intentions were spreading, and his support growing with it.

"What is this?" he asked as a bowl of what appeared to be red slop was placed in front of him, accompanied with a plate of simple bread.

"That would be Iyutenitsa, Lord Black," Gellert explained. "Think of it as a pepper and tomato relish. You spread it on the bread, like so," he explained, demonstrating how the food should be consumed.

Orion grumbled but followed suit, nodding approvingly as he took a bite.

"It's not bad," he conceded. "It's not a bacon sandwich, but it will do."

Gellert laughed as he often did at Orion's demeanour.

"The diet here is not as it is in England, Lord Black. Perhaps we can discuss with Selwyn about bringing you some home comforts when he arrives? He should be here shortly."

Orion nodded agreeably.

"I could murder a steak and ale pie," he declared, "and maybe some mashed potato."

"All in good time, my friend," Gellert comforted. "Ah, here is Mr Selwyn now."

The door ricocheted off the wall as it was shoved open, and a furious Titus Selwyn stormed into the room.

"Can you not even keep your own house in order, Black?" he spat.

Orion's expression shifted to one of anger immediately.

"You had better have a bloody good reason for swanning in here and speaking to me in such a way!" he hissed.

"Good reason? Have you not received my letters?"

"I am not reachable here," Orion responded. "Now, get on with it. What's chewing your arse?"

Selwyn shook his head.

"Your son has put an end to all of our business dealings!"

"Perseus did that?"

"No, the other bloody one!"

"Arcturus?" Orion asked, surprised. "What has he done?"

"Only waltzed into the Wizengamot claiming to be running your family in your absence. Because of him, I've lost a fortune, and had to hand over a substantial sum to you lot."

Orion nodded appreciatively.

"He always was the precocious child," he said amusedly. "If he saw fit to act in such a way, he must have had a reason."

Selwyn was taken aback by the casual response of the Lord Black.

"So, you will do nothing?"

"That depends on why my boy took the action he did. He is no fool and wouldn't have done so lightly. So, Selwyn, why did my son target you, or were others involved?"

"No, it was just me," the man admitted. "He seems to have taken offense to a business offer I sent your way."

"And what business offer would that be?"

"I merely made an offer of marriage for your youngest daughter."

"You did what?" Orion demanded.

"It was made with good intention…"

"And yet you managed to offend my son with it? No, there's more to this. I will have the truth of it, or I will speak with my son myself."

"There was nothing more," Selwyn assured him.

"I do find that hard to believe, Mr Selwyn," Gellert broke in. "Either Lord Black's son is unreasonable, or you are saying that he has not taught the boy correctly."

"He's unreasonable!" Selwyn said firmly. "He gave me sixty days to pay the gold, and all our businesses have since collapsed without your funding."

"Then they were not profitable," Orion said dismissively. "It appears that Arcturus was right. What do you think Perseus?" he asked as his son entered the room.

"About what?"

"About Arcturus. He has seemingly taken the reins in my absence."

Perseus nodded stiffly.

Orion had been very displeased that his two sons had almost come to blows when the older of the two had visited.

He had arrived back in Bulgaria, furious with his younger brother for the hostility he had shown.

He hadn't said much else on the matter, but Orion knew Perseus was still harbouring some anger towards Arcturus.

"What's he done then?" Perseus enquired.

"He has rebuffed an attempt from Lord Selwyn here to have Dorea married to his son."

Perseus snorted.

"None of your offspring are worthy of our Dorea," he declared. "If I had my way, she would remain unmarried."

"But that is no longer in your future," Orion pointed out. "I suppose it will be up to Arcturus who she marries, unless a suitable person is to be presented, of course," he added to Grindelwald who nodded.

"I'm sure that it will happen in the future, Lord Black."

"So, your offer would have been rejected."

"But not in such a way from yourself," Selwyn muttered bitterly, eying Orion suspiciously as though he was trying to work the man out.

"No, not in such a way," Lord Black agreed, "but denied, nonetheless. Now, if you have finished griping, were you not asked here for a reason?"

"I was," Selwyn sighed.

"So, how are your efforts progressing into bringing more to our side?" Gellert interjected, leaning forward in his chair, and ignoring his food in favour of conversing with the man.

"Not well," Titus sighed. "Those whom I have approached are not amenable to your cause. The British are stubborn, Mr Grindelwald, full of national pride, and will not bow down to foreign influence."

Gellert laughed.

"I thought as much," he replied with a smile. "That is why I admire them, but when they realise their situation is helpless, I have no doubt that they will fall into line. When they see how the people of this land are thriving, they will be willing to negotiate."

"You seem very certain," Selwyn mused aloud.

"Britain is a country of great power," Grindelwald conceded, "but they have never faced a power like mine. The one man that could hope to face me and emerge victorious will not do so."

"What man?" Orion questioned.

"Albus."

"Dumbledore?"

Gellert nodded.

"The very same. He may be a half-blood, but no mistake, gentlemen, Albus Dumbledore is perhaps the most gifted, resourceful, and dare I say, powerful wizard that I have ever met. He alone may pose a threat to me, or perhaps those days are behind us," he added cryptically, caressing the wand concealed within his sleeve. "Any other that could have proven such a worthy foe have either aligned themselves with me or are in no position to do so."

"On the continent," Orion corrected. "I do not know how long you have been away from Britain, Gellert, but there are others that should concern you."

"Is that so?" Grindelwald asked amusedly.

Orion nodded.

"The Notts are ones that you should be cautious of."

"And the Moodys," Selwyn added. "They have little political influence, but they are renowned for their prowess in combat."

"Don't forget Potter," Orion continued. "There may only be William at the moment, but his son is said to be rather gifted. William himself is not one to take lightly."

"There's also the Flamel boy."

"Flamel boy?" Gellert asked.

"The alchemist's nephew," Selwyn explained. "Not a problem in itself, but according to Malfoy, Flamel is very protective of the boy. The entirety of France will go to war if Flamel wishes for them too."

Grindelwald grinned.

"The entirety of France will already be crushed beneath my heel before we turn our attention to Britain," he assured them. "I am not concerned about Flamel."

Orion shook his head.

"If we do not gain support in Britain from prominent families, it will be difficult to bring into the fold."

"Then we show them that they have little choice, gentlemen," Gellert responded. "Conquering Britain may not even be necessary. They will come to us."

Orion was not as convinced as Grindelwald, but if there was a man that could bring to life to such a vision, it was him.

Thus far, Orion had been given no reason to doubt the man, and he wouldn't begin now, not when they were only getting started.

(Break)

Before Harry knew it, the NEWTs had come upon him and the rest of the seventh years, leaving many stressed, and some even needing medical assistance.

As had happened during the OWLs only two years prior, some students had been given calming draughts, and some sleeping draughts when the former had failed.

The final exams taken at Hogwarts evidently had not been named with any sense of irony.

They were nasty, and they were exhausting.

For the best part of the week, Harry had found himself seated within the Great Hall for hours on end completing the theoretical portion of his assessments. Transfiguration alone was a five-hour paper with only a short break granted around midway through, and the rest, well, he couldn't wait for them to become a distant memory.

It had been a difficult week, and though he knew he had performed at his best, it was not one he would remember with much fondness.

In truth, he was glad that it was over, but now, he faced the reality of leaving the castle in only a few short days.

It was not a thought that filled him with excitement as he had hoped. If anything, it only made him realise that what was happening across the globe could no longer be ignored.

Within the safety of the castle walls, it was easy to forget that a world existed outside of Hogwarts, and the one he would find himself in would not be favourable.

"It's all over then," Charlus declared sadly. "There'll be no more Hogwarts. Poppy will be going to St Mungo's to become the best healer in the country, and Augusta and Frank will be getting married."

"I'll be with my father learning the business," Tiberius piped up, "and on the Wizengamot."

"I'll see you there," Charlus chuckled.

"Minnie will still be here, and Harry…"

None finished Ogden's sentence.

They all knew what Harry would be doing but they did not openly discuss it amongst themselves. It was as though they hoped that it would not happen if they ignored it, but that could not be done.

Only this morning Harry had received word from Federov.

"Will be in Belgium until I have completed my assessments," he announced as he removed the missive from within his robes. "That will be for around two months."

Charlus all but snatched the envelope from his hand before scanning the contents, deflating when he had finished.

"So, that's it?"

Harry nodded.

"You all knew this was a possibility," he pointed out. "We'll all have our own things to do, but that doesn't mean we can't meet up and write to each other."

Charlus nodded, offering Harry a smile that lacked sincerity.

"I just wish I could understand why you're doing this, Harry," he sighed. "You could do so many great things here, but you're choosing this. I just don't get it."

"I don't expect you to," Harry snorted.

"But you just rented your house," Tiberius broke in.

"And I plan on staying in it as often as I can," Harry replied.

He was pleased with the property.

To those of wealth, it would be little, but the three-bedroom cottage he had secured for himself was more than enough for him. Initially, he had wanted to purchase the property, but the owner did not wish to part with it permanently, not yet at least.

For now, Harry was content with leasing it.

"Where is it?" Augusta asked. "You never said."

"It's in Godric's Hollow," Harry answered, his gaze shifting towards Charlus who had turned to him sharply.

"Godric's Hollow?" the Potter heir questioned.

Harry nodded, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

"I quite liked it there, and when I saw the house was available, I couldn't say no."

Charlus smiled approvingly.

"Well, that's one choice I can agree with," he chuckled. "My father will be pleased to hear that you're there."

Although Harry was pleased he would see his relatives at least once a year at Christmas, that wasn't the only reason he had decided to take the house.

For him, Godric's Hollow was where everything had begun, and though it would be some time still before he would deal with Tom Riddle, the Dark Lord was ever-presently with him, in mind and soul.

Voldemort had come for him as a baby whilst he was in the village, had taken his parents from him, but Harry refused to allow those to be his only memories of what had been his first home.

William, Angelica, and Charlus had already sweetened the bitterness of his thoughts towards the place, and he was determined to claim it all back for himself.

Perhaps one day he would raise his own family there. When all was said and done, Godric's Hollow was where his family had come from, and he wasn't going to let Voldemort, nor Grindelwald for that matter, take that away.

Not again.

However, before moving on to Godric's Hollow, and then Belgium in the coming weeks, there was one more thing he needed to do, and for that, he would need the help of the one person knew that he could trust.

Minerva offered him a sad smile.

She had made it clear that she was not happy with some of his choices, but she would support him, and he would be relying upon her during his absences.

It was time that she learned even more of just what made Harry who he was.

(Break)

Her visits to the owlery had been infrequent over the years. She hadn't written to her parents much, not wanting to expose her father to the odd form of communication used by witches and wizards.

It would be difficult enough to explain to the watchful neighbours just why the McGonagall home was visited by owls.

No, that would not do.

Instead, she had opted to forego the sending of mail, and waited to visit with her family at Christmas, and during the summer months for her first few years of school.

Why had Harry asked to meet her here? She knew not, but he had been adamant that she was to come alone.

He wanted to speak with her alone, and it was not as though the two of them hadn't done so several times over the years, but not in such a clandestine manner.

When she opened the door and peered inside, it was to see him stroking the plumage of the owl she had brought him, his expression one of fondness.

"He's grown on you then?" she asked.

Harry nodded, his own expression one of concern.

"What is it?" Minerva asked.

"There's something I need you to do for me whilst I'm not around," he murmured, his eyes meeting hers. "The headmaster is aware of it, as is Professor Dumbledore, and I know that you trust him, but I have my reasons not to."

"That sounds quite serious," Minerva replied.

She had noticed the cold and aloof manner Harry had when he conversed with her mentor. She had not commented on it, but this was the first time he'd admitted there was a sense of difference between them.

"It is," Harry confirmed, "as serious as it will ever get."

"What do you need me to do?"

Harry released a deep breath.

"There will be a boy joining the school in September. Professor Dippet confirmed that he is on the list."

"A boy?"

Harry nodded.

"I need you to keep an eye on him, Minerva, a very close one at that. I cannot express just how dangerous he will prove to be."

Harry was worried, more so than she had ever seen him.

"Who is he?"

"His name is Tom Riddle," Harry said in just above a whisper, as though the boy himself would appear before them if said too loud. "He is the man who murdered my parents."

Minerva gasped.

"It was him?"

"It was, but it is much worse than that. He will bring war to Britain, and many will die. I have already taken steps to prevent it and will kill him before he can become what he once was. For now, I just need you to watch him and keep me updated on what he is up to, where he is spending time, and who with. Can you do that?"

Minerva could not deny him. She wanted to help him anyway she could.

"Of course," she agreed.

Harry offered her a grateful smile.

"Then you will need this," he said, removing a worn piece of parchment from his pocket and looking at it reverently before tapping it with his wand. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Minerva could only watch as words began forming across the front of the parchment, some odd names and then a map of the school where hundreds of little labelled dots could be seen.

"Is that everyone in Hogwarts?" she asked.

Harry nodded.

"This map is one of only a few things I have that belonged to my father, but you should have it. Clinging onto it will serve me no purpose, not when you are here."

Minerva took the parchment from Harry, his grip tightening around it for a brief second before he relinquished it to her.

"When you are done with it, just tap it with your wand and say, 'Mischief Managed'."

Minerva did so, and the parchment was as it had been before Harry had activated it.

"Please look after it," he implored.

"I will," Minerva promised, taking him by the arm before he could leave. "And you had better take care of yourself, Harry Potter. I expect you to write to me at least once a week and visit when you can."

He smiled and nodded, and Minerva placed a lingering kiss on his cheek.

"Do not think that I won't come looking for you if I must," she warned. "I did not spend two years working with you on your transfiguration for you to just abandon me."

Harry chuckled as he shook his head.

"I'll be back," he vowed. "Always."

Minerva nodded and released her hold on him.

He would be.

If nothing else, Harry was a man of his word, and this would not be the last she saw of him.