Hey everyone! A big thanks to all who have read / reviewed the story so far, especially Kelly Chambliss for the great mechanical help! I soooo appreciate everyone's feedback! This chapter is more of a "setting the stage" installment, but I promise there will be more action to come!

Chapter 3

"Ouch! Bloody hell!" Xiomara Hooch muttered, rubbing her bruised shin.

Beyond the dusty windows of the Quidditch Field House, the sun was sinking low on the horizon. Xiomara had spent the last five hours taking inventory and making repairs to the school brooms. These were tasks she typically undertook in July, but the events of the strange, uncertain summer meant that these mundane housekeeping duties had been put off until now – the day before the start of term.

So engrossed was she in the trimming of tail twigs and polishing of two hundred broom handles, she'd completely lost track of time. She would almost certainly be late for dinner. Hurrying to put away the last canisters of broom polish, she'd tripped over a bundle of replacement handles and banged her shin rather hard as she went sprawling.

Still cursing, she limped to the door. Taking one final look around the relatively organized Field House, she extinguished the lights and double-checked that the door was locked before hurrying across the lawn towards the castle.

The night before the start of term was a bit of an occasion for the Hogwarts staff, a chance for them all to reconvene and dine together after the summer holidays. Xiomara knew that tonight's dinner would be a bittersweet one. This would mark the first time that the staff had all gathered together since Dumbledore's funeral . . . and it would also be Minerva's first occasion to greet them formally as Headmistress. Xiomara walked quickly, ignoring the dull throbbing of her left shin.

"Evenin' Xiomara," a familiar voice called as she approached the castle doors. Hagrid was lumbering up the lawn from the opposite direction, wearing his most formal – and hairy – suit jacket for the occasion.

"Why hello there, Hagrid," Xiomara greeted him. "How have you been keeping?"

"Oh, busy . . . lots to do, ya know . . . haven't had a chance to see poor Gwarpy in days . . ."

"Hopefully things will be a bit less hectic once the term gets underway," Xiomara said sympathetically, as they passed through the Entrance Hall where Filch was busily polishing the four house hourglasses. He gave Hagrid a scathing glare, which the poor half-giant did not seem to notice. He'd slowed to a halt just in front of the doors to the Great Hall, looking suddenly nervous. Xiomara patted his arm and gently nudged him forward.

"Well . . . looks like we aren't the only ones running behind schedule," she murmured as they entered the Hall. The house tables had been cleared away, and the Head Table had been moved to the center of the room. Only Filius Flitwick and Sybil Trelawney were currently seated, however. As Xiomara and Hagrid approached the table, Filius greeted them with obvious relief.

"Hagrid, congratulations! Minerva's just told me the wonderful news!" the Charms professor squeaked, reaching up to shake Hagrid's massive hand.

"Yes, Hagrid . . . I have always Seen great things for you . . ." Sybil murmured airily, already sipping heavily from her goblet.

Hagrid, who had turned a rather impressive shade of red, lowered himself awkwardly into a chair beside Xiomara, nodding his thanks.

"Where is everyone?" Xiomara asked Filius. She should have realized that the other staff members would be just as harried as she. The majority of them had arrived only in the past day or so.

"Oh, they'll be along presently . . . I know Minerva was going over some final Hufflepuff OWL results with Pomona . . . and I saw Professor Sinistra on my way down, she was just going to freshen up -- "

Sure enough, the Hall doors swung open and a small crowd of people hurried in. Septima Vector and Aurora Sinistra led the pack, deep in conversation, with Poppy Pomfrey and Pomona Sprout following close behind. Minerva and Horace Slughorn brought up the rear. Horace was puffing away to Minerva, his bald head shining in the candlelight as he waddled through the door. Xiomara could tell from the slight furrow of Minerva's brow that she was a getting a bit impatient with his blustering talk and slow gait.

There were greetings all around, and much congratulating of Hagrid.

"Good man, Hagrid," Horace declared as he heaved himself into a nearby chair. "An unexpected choice, but a fine one, I think . . ."

"Well, I believe we are all present and accounted for," Minerva said, putting an end to further proclamations from Slughorn. "Our new staff will be arriving tomorrow on the train -- "

She took her seat, across the table from Xiomara. The moment she sat, the platters along the table immediately filled with food. Xiomara's heart lurched at the sight of the kidney pudding at the far end of the table – one of Dumbledore's particular favorites. Before anyone reached for a serving spoon, however, Filius cleared his throat and raised his goblet.

"I'd like to make a toast," he said, looking up and down the table at his fellow staff members. "To a successful Fall Term. And to our new Headmistress!"

"Hear, hear!"

"Cheers!"

There was a clinking of glasses all along the table. Xiomara caught Minerva's eye as she raised her glass to her.

"Well, well . . . I must say I was rather surprised when I first heard of the Board's decision to reopen, Minerva," Horace said as soon as he'd lowered his goblet.

"It took some time for them to reach a consensus," Minerva said mildly. "Filius, could you please pass the sprouts?"

"Were you able to fill all of the staffing vacancies, Minerva?" Aurora asked. Minerva nodded.

"It took some doing, but I've found Reginald Peacock to take over Muggle Studies, and a Dilaria Dillanger is going to take first through fifth year Transfiguration. I shall continue to teach the NEWT level course until we can find someone more permanent."

"What about Defense Against the Dark Arts?" asked Septima. Minerva sighed.

"That position has been a nightmare to fill at the best of times," she said. "But the Ministry claims they will be sending along someone from the Office of Auror Training to oversee the class," there was a tone of skepticism in her voice.

"The Ministry is going to oversee Defense Against the Dark Arts?!" Pomona spluttered, nearly choking on a mouthful of roast.

"Yes . . . we all remember how well that went the last time," Xiomara said darkly.

"They wouldn't dare send that woman again -- " Filius began.

"No," Minerva cut him off, "I've been told that Dolores Umbridge has a new title at the Ministry these days. She is currently Head of the Muggle-Born Registration Committee."

"Good lord," Poppy breathed.

"Do you know, I just heard from Marcus Bulby, Chief Executive at the WWN now, that a number of people -- " Horace began, but he was interrupted quite suddenly by the appearance of Filch. He came tearing into the Great Hall, waving a filthy cleaning rag in agitation.

"Headmistress! Headmistress! You've got visitors!" he crowed, looking thoroughly annoyed that his long night of scouring was being interrupted. Minerva frowned.

"Visitors? Who --?"

"A whole pile of 'em, comin' up the lane!" Filch huffed.

"But -- how could anyone get through the gates?" Xiomara asked, looking to Minerva, who had half risen from her seat.

Before anyone could answer, the unmistakable sound of the castle doors unlocking echoed from the Entrance Hall. Xiomara saw Minerva's hand slip into her pocket for her wand, and then –

"Oh . . . we seem to be interrupting . . ."

Two men in long, dark travelling cloaks stood in the Great Hall doorway. Xiomara vaguely recognized them to be Matthias Merriweather, head of the Hogwarts Board of Governors, and Pius Thicknesse, the new Minister of Magic.

"Can I help you, gentlemen?" Minerva said tersely, stepping away from the table towards them. The rest of the staff looked on, puzzled.

"Good evening, Minerva . . . Professors . . ." Thicknesse said, in a flat, bored-sounding voice. "Just came to have a quick word. It seems we have a few last minute – er – rearrangements . . . Minerva, if you wouldn't mind stepping out --"

"Forgive me, Minister, but anything you have to say to me regarding Hogwarts can surely be said in front of my staff," Minerva interjected. Xiomara could see only her profile now, but could tell that she was staring down the two men with her most piercing glare.

Merriweather appeared to be at a loss for words. Even Thicknesse seemed momentarily cowed, but quickly recovered himself.

"Yes, well . . . I regret to tell you, Minerva, that we have decided to make some last minute staffing changes. The Ministry has thought it prudent to place some of its own . . . representatives . . . . at Hogwarts this year to ensure that our policies are being – adhered to --"

"Oh?" Minerva said in a dangerously quiet voice. Out of the corner of her eye, Xiomara saw Filius discreetly reaching for his wand.

"We have chosen new Muggle Studies and Defense Against the Dark Arts professors that we feel will be quite suitable. And – well . . . the Ministry has also deemed it prudent to appoint a new Headmaster."

His words were met with stunned silence. Xiomara thought surely she must have misunderstood the man. A new Headmaster? What could this mean?

"Should I bring them in, Minister?" Merriweather asked timidly.

"Yes, yes . . . I suppose so . . ." the Thicknesse said, seemingly oblivious to the dangerous atmosphere of the room.

The Great Hall doors swung wide once again. For a moment, Xiomara was certain that her eyes must be failing, or perhaps it was some ghastly trick of the light – because surely, that could not possibly be –

"MURDERER!!" Hagrid thundered from behind her, leaping from his chair so fast that it skidded across the hall. Xiomara instinctively grabbed his arm, her gaze fixed on the sallow-skinned, greasy-haired man who stood in the doorway.

"You," Minerva hissed. There was venom in her voice that Xiomara scarcely recognized.

"Me," said Snape in a quiet, matter-of-fact tone. He did not seem the least bit concerned that every wand in the room was drawn and pointed in his direction. "Allow me to introduce you new colleagues, Amycus and Alecto Carrow."

Snape moved further into the hall, allowing a squat, disheveled looking man and his female counterpart to enter.

"Look, Alecto! We're just in time for the dinner party!" the man wheezed, elbowing his sister. She cackled in reply.

"Well then. . .yes . . . we'll leave you all to get things settled . . ." Thicknesse said flatly. "Severus, if there are any problems, please don't hesitate to contact me . . ."

"Thank you, Minister," said Snape, taking a long, slow look around the room. "I do not foresee any immediate issues . . ."

Xiomara could feel the muscles in Hagrid's massive arm contract, as though he were preparing to pound Snape into the stone floor. She dug her fingernails into the top of his hand in an effort to restrain him.

Merriweather and Thicknesse departed quickly, leaving the staff of Hogwarts frozen around the dinner table, poised for battle.

"Mmmm . . . try some of this roast, Amycus!" Alecto Carrow crowed to her brother. She had conjured herself a plate out of thin air and was now greedily nosing about the platters at the far end of the table.

"Please, don't let us interrupt," Snape said, his voice silky, his lips turned up in a thin sneer. "I shall see myself upstairs." And he turned and strode from the room, cape billowing behind him.

Burning hatred bubbled up inside Xiomara as she watched him go. Never before in her life had she experienced such hopeless rage. She could see the same sentiment reflected in every face around the table – Filius and Pomona looked ready to commit murder themselves. Poppy appeared on the verge of tears.

Minerva continued to stand halfway between the table and the door. For a moment, Xiomara was certain that she would go after Snape. They listened to his footsteps crossing the Entrance Hall, and finally fading away up the main staircase. The Carrows had now commandeered the far end of the table and were busily stuffing their mouths, apparently unconcerned about the presence of the remaining staff.

"Minerva," Filius finally said, breaking the silence. His voice seemed to shake them all from their paralyzed state. Xiomara let go of Hagrid and hurried around the table in Minerva's direction . . . but she was already walking briskly from the room. The rest of the staff quickly followed.

"They can't . . . they can't . . ." Pomona was seething as they abandoned the Great Hall.

"They have," Horace said grimly, shaking his head.

Xiomara pushed past them towards Minerva, who was standing alone in the middle of the entrance hall. She was staring blankly at the wall opposite, her wand still clutched tightly at her side.

"Min," Xiomara said tentatively, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder. She could feel Minerva trembling, her whole body radiating with a startling heat.

She shook Xiomara off and then turned abruptly to the front doors.

"Minerva? Are you . . . where are you going?" Pomona called after her. But Minerva ignored her, wrenched the door open, and disappeared into the night.

***

Xiomara knew where she would go.

At the far end of the Quidditch pitch, behind the bleachers, the ground dipped into a gentle gully that ran down towards the edge of the forest. It was a popular meeting place for students who wished to have a little privacy. Xiomara and Minerva had spent a good bit of quality time there during their 6th and 7th years, following Quidditch practices. It was as far from the castle as you could get without being out-of-bounds . . . and Xiomara knew that, as angry and upset as Minerva might be, she was not about to abandon Hogwarts completely.

As she approached the stadium, Xiomara could make out faint flashes of light in the distance, confirming Minerva's whereabouts. She hurried along the outside of the bleacher walls, her footsteps loud on the gravel path. She could hear an ominous crackling and sizzling noise that grew louder as she drew closer to Minerva's retreat.

Xiomara rounded the far end of the stadium, and stopped. She could see Minerva standing down on the grass, her back to the bleachers. Even from this distance, Xiomara could feel the powerful current of magic in the air. She watched as Minerva's wand arched suddenly, and a burst of bright white fire filled the sky, raining sparks down over the lawn and lighting up the dark forest beyond.

"Minerva . . .?" Xiomara called out to her. Minerva did not respond. Another jet of fire burst from her wand and engulfed part of the tree line before her. Xiomara's heart was pounding. Had she gone mad? Was she going to burn the whole bloody forest down?

"M-Min . . .?" she called out again. Her voice sounded timid, almost childlike in the thick night air.

"Leave me!" Minerva shrieked back at her. Xiomara hardly recognized her voice – it shook and cracked with emotion.

Xiomara stood there for a long moment, holding on to one of the bleacher support posts. Never, in the all the years she had known Minerva McGonagall, had she seen her in this state. For the first time in her life, Xiomara was a little afraid of her.

Then, not knowing what else to do, she turned and made her way back through the darkness to the castle alone.

***

It was hours later when Xiomara finally heard the door to Minerva's sitting room creak open. Since returning from the grounds, she'd been curled up in an armchair beside the empty fireplace, waiting in the dark. Through the window, she could see a greenish light on the horizon, a brief flicker of the coming dawn.

At the sound of Minerva opening the door, she lit her wand.

"Xiomara! . . . what are you doing?" Minerva gasped, startled by the suddenly flare of wandlight.

"Waiting for you," Xiomara replied, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand. Minerva stood with her hands on the back of the sofa, her face half in shadow. Xiomara surveyed her carefully. She looked quite the same as she usually did . . . a bit pale, perhaps . . . but no one would ever imagine she'd spent the last several hours in a fit of uncontrollable rage.

"It's almost three o'clock in the morning," Minerva said.

"I know," Xiomara countered.

"Well, why are you still –?"

"Oh, Minerva – did you really think I'd be able to sleep?!" Xiomara snapped, springing from her chair. She marched across the room to the sideboard along the far wall. A little cabinet popped open with a faint click as she approached, and Xiomara busied herself with pouring two glasses of firewhiskey. Minerva sank wearily to the sofa, fumbling for a moment with the laces of her boots.

"Are you all right?" Xiomara asked quietly.

"Yes, of course I'm all right," Minerva sniffed, straightening up and taking the glass of amber liquid with a steady hand. Xiomara returned to the armchair, watching her closely.

Minerva took a bracing sip from her glass and then looked up at her.

"Well?" Xiomara prompted.

"Well, what?" Minerva sighed.

"Well – what are we going to do??" Xiomara's voice came out louder than she'd expected. Minerva looked away, taking another slow sip of firewhiskey. For a moment, Xiomara didn't think she was going to respond.

"I don't know," Minerva finally said, her voice soft and tired.

"He killed -- " Xiomara began, more to herself than to Minerva, but she quickly cut her off.

"I'm well aware of what he did, Xiomara," she snapped.

"But how . . . how can they make him Head of the bloody school?!" Xiomara exploded.

"They are not the ones in charge, anymore," Minerva said, darkly. "This is obviously You-Know-Who's directive."

"You mean to tell me, out of the entire Ministry, there is no one who can say, 'Severus Snape is a murderer and should be sentenced to Azkaban'?" Xiomara fumed, her golden eyes glittering in the dim light.

"Oh, Mara . . . have you forgotten our visit from the Ministry in July?" Minerva said, softly. "The Death Eaters have a firm grasp on every Ministry Department now . . . you saw Thicknesse – tell me that man is not under an Imperius curse . . ."

"But, surely there are Aurors . . ."

"Those who are opposed to the new regime are effectively trapped, Mara . . . and so, for that matter, are we."

Fear curdled Xiomara's stomach. She leaned forward in her chair, her hands on her knees.

"I won't be trapped, Minerva McGonagall! I cant bear it, I won't sit idly by and allow that – that -- "

"Xiomara, stop," Minerva said quietly, as Xiomara leapt from her seat once again to pace the room.

"He's upstairs! Right now! In Dumbledore's office – in your office, Minerva! We can't just roll over and allow the cronies of You Know Who to take over Hogwarts --!!"

"And what do you suggest we do, Xiomara?" Minerva suddenly shot back, her voice shrill. "Go upstairs, right now, and murder You-Know-Who's favorite servant? How many minutes do you think it would be before the Death Eaters came swarming? And tomorrow, the students would arrive to find a school completely at the hands of the Dark Lord . . . how long before you suppose the muggle born children would be stolen away from here, to their deaths?!"

Xiomara stood quite still behind the sofa, her arms folded tightly across her chest. Minerva stared forward into the empty fireplace, the echo of her passionate words still ringing in the air. Xiomara watched her shoulders rise and fall sharply with each breath.

The grim truth of Minerva's argument washed over Xiomara like a wave of icy water. She felt the fight slowly draining from her body, replaced by sudden exhaustion.

"There is a time and a place for battle, Xiomara," Minerva said softly, still not facing her. "And this is not it. Hogwarts needs us now."

Xiomara uncrossed her arms and sat down wearily on the arm of the sofa. She felt Minerva's body shift slightly at her approach, and took this as an opening to sit beside her, sliding her arm gently around her shoulders. Minerva leaned back into her embrace. Neither woman spoke for a long time.

"Oh, Puss . . ." Xiomara finally murmured. Her voice held all the emotion she could not find the proper words for.

"I know, Mara . . . I know," Minerva breathed back.

Somewhere deep within the bowels of the castle, a clock chimed the hour. Xiomara stayed right where she was, feeling the comforting warmth of Minerva leaning against her, listening to the gentle rise and fall of her breath.

She did not dare to think upon what tomorrow might bring.