Learn the Rules of the Game

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned." If you were looking for Professor McGonagall or the Head of Gryffindor House, you are in the right place. If not, please be on your way, I am a busy woman and do not have time for foolishness. [RP blog for A Pyrrhic Victory]

[professor-mmcgonagall-blog]

Holiday Cheer || Minerva & Alastor || Christmas Ball, December 21st 1978

[professor-mmcgonagall-blog]

Minerva cocked her head at the bear, “I hadn’t thought to check for that, how remiss of me.” She passed off the note as an answer, “I rather doubt it’s charmed to attack me, but you’re welcome to check if you’re so inclined. Otherwise it’ll be a fun surprise, just waiting to happen.”

She obviously highly doubted such an outcome, but she remained entirely straight faced as she spoke. “Presuming the note and bear aren’t actually intended for harm, I think it’s from a parent. The helper comment gave me that impression. Any guesses?” She had a few of her own but wasn’t entirely sure enough to actually go ask around— simply an amusing guessing game until the person decided whether or not to come forward.

The ribbon comment and the glare had Minerva almost snorting at the table, amused by the reaction. Merlin help her, she hadn’t expected him to dislike it that much. It was poisonous, of course, but it was the holiday cheer aspect, the kissing under mistletoe idea, that was so entertaining. Mostly because of how much Alastor would probably hate the tradition rather than the plant itself. 

"Oh, it’s obviously evil. The mistletoe gives that away." Minerva smiled, glancing at Alastor, "Or the weed was only supposed to be a joke and spread holiday cheer. And surprisingly simple to find, actually. Stumbled across it while shopping for the rest." She paused, letting that sink in a little as she smirked, waiting for his reaction before continuing blithely.  "I must admit, the idea of you armed with a sprig of mistletoe was incredibly amusing. If I’d known it actually would’ve stopped you from opening it entirely, I would have forgone it entirely." 

[exabundanticautela]

"Aye, nothin’ more fun than bein’ strangled by a stuffed bear at three in the morn’," he remarked with as much false cheer as he could stuff into his voice while talking about a subject as fun as a mauling. Accepting the note, Moody read over it as Minerva continued on, reaching the part in the note about the helper about the same time she voiced the fact aloud. "Either a parent or someone who’s a wee bit too fond a’ their house elf. Helper is singular, guess that knocks out the Weasleys an’ their brood." Reading it over again— did he recognize the handwriting? Nah— he was forced to accept he didn’t know any better than her and, with a slight shrug, he handed it back to her. "Reckon you know the hordes a’ parents better’n I do."

And then they were back to the subject of that damn gift. Alastor narrowed his eyes at the object in question, remembering again why he’d hated the idea of the “secret santa” so much. He drew his wand to poke the wrapped mystery (a serious investigative method) and got a few solid jabs in before what McGonagall said about finding the weed set in, forcing him to pause. Oh.

Oh gods damn it.

"That’s— damn it, mistletoe’s poisonous, sendin’ someone a poisonous plant is the universal death threat!” His complaints were starting to sound lame even to his own ears and thus, half sheepish, he ran a hand over his face to spare himself having to watch her enjoyment of his suffering as he slipped his wand back into his coat (a formal dress code wasn’t enough to get him to forgo his beaten old trench) and pray her amusement passed quickly. “Hope you got a good laugh outta it, at least— willin’ to bet ninety-nine percent a’ the folks here would run if they saw me with it.” He dropped his hand and shook his head as if he could clear any residual embarrassment. “Wouldn’t’ve opened it anyway. S’a good rule not to open anything unless you know exactly who it’s from, especially now. The Minister’s a bloody fool to make us do it regardless.”

[professor-mmcgonagall-blog]

You disgusting pedophile! I'm having my child transferred to Durmstrang immediately!

If you have so little trust in me, Headmaster Dumbledore, and all the other staff of Hogwarts to protect your children, perhaps it’s for the best you take your students elsewhere. If you do, however, wish to speak to me as an adult, my office is always open to your concerns. 

[professor-mmcgonagall-blog]

Professor Mac, Really? A Hufflepuff? You could at least go for one of our own house woman!! James Potter p.s. Don't feel bad, according to Skeeter I'm sexing up half the people I know

Mr. Potter,

I don’t even have any words. Though I would love to know more about this “research” Ms. Skeeter is claiming to do. 

You’re saying that Skeeter article was wrong too? I’m floored. Are they all lies? What a complete shocker. 

My only concern is losing students to this utter tosh. Enough are being lost because of this war— this is just the sort of thing to push more out the door. Bloody Skeeter. 

[professor-mmcgonagall-blog]

Merry Christmas!

Love, Emmeline Vance

Ms. Vance,

Thank you for the cupcakes-- they're quite clever and delicious. And despite the allegations, I still can't find a trace of evil in them. I rather think Ms. Skeeter owes you an apology. 

Have a Happy Christmas,

[a-pyrrhic-victory-confessions]

Minerva McGonagall has a secret lover in Hogsmeade! I saw her sneaking out of Hogwarts castle late at night.

After doing a little digging, I discovered that Minerva is in a secret relationship with an underage Hufflepuff student! That’s right, our saintly Professor has turned quite naughty with old age. Perhaps she’s chasing after youth because she lost out on her own. That would explain her fascination with teaching youngins…

[a-pyrrhic-victory-confessions]

Confess

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[professor-mmcgonagall-blog]

Happy Christmas

Professor Mac,

I thought we needed to add some zest to that collection of old black hats you’re always wearing.  I’m sure you’re saying it’s too ostentatious or colourful or something equally Professor Mac-ish, but it’ll look great on you.  Let loose and try it on, you’ll see. 

Happy Christmas Professor!

James Potter

Minerva read the note and gave the hat a slightly dubious look. It was… purple. Very attractive, to be sure, but nothing she would buy for herself. Which did seem to be the point. Right. 

Against her better judgment, she put the hat on and went for the mirror. It was very handsome, with her hair. Smiling slightly, Minerva tucked the hat gently back into its box and put it away in her closet. 

Mr. Potter, 

Thank you for the lovely hat. I appreciate the black feathers, at least— Imagine if they were some other color. I would have been completely adrift without some kind of black with my hat.

At least I know exactly what to wear to your wedding now, for which I must thank you even more. 

Thank you again, Mr. Potter, and Happy Christmas!

[professor-mmcgonagall-blog]

Holiday Cheer || Minerva & Alastor || Christmas Ball, December 21st 1978

[exabundanticautela]

Thank the gods. Moody wasn’t sure if he wanted to strangle himself or his table mates more— though not so much Jones, he supposed she wasn’t quite to that point of insufferable, but if he had to listen to Carrow run his damn mouth for another second or Lestrange maintain his little polite as shit act, he was going to start throwing curses first and asking questions later. He hadn’t touched the food, leaving him with more time on his hands to have nothing better to do than listen to the people around him, and the end of the dinner and a chance to get the hell out of there was his true gift as far as he was concerned.

Only, the first person he wanted to go to, he knew he couldn’t. So balls to that. Moody had waited from the relative safe position of his table (chair back to the wall so no one could sneak up on him) and watched, raking his mind over for an excuse to go talk to her. Fortunately, it seemed someone was going to show him some mercy, and it was with a wary eye he watched Minerva sit down beside him and place what appeared to be a Scottish bear on the table. As she spoke, he hummed lowly in his throat and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Aye, cantie Yule, guid Hogmanay, et cetera et cetera et cetera” he answered, skipping over the required greetings with an air of a man who found such forced manners to be tedious.

“‘Course he’s better dressed, I forgot my kilt,” Moody commented after getting a good look at the stuffed monstrosity staring blithely off into space before him. “S’he charmed to do anything? Might be your giver’s a Muggleborn an’ didn’t think to. Was there a note?” Hardly the most pressing of mysteries, but it was a puzzle and something to do to take his mind off the rest of the night’s affair, and for that he was silently grateful to the woman sitting beside him.

Though the ribbing she offered him in regards to his own gift that still sat, patiently wrapped and mocking him with its very existence, got a scowl that was only half serious for her troubles. There were plenty of people for whom he’d gladly ruin their holiday spirit, but it seemed especially petty to do so for Minerva and he wasn’t entirely sure why. “Definitely the ribbon part. Cannae open anythin’ that doesn’t match.” He shot the offending item a solid glare before glancing back to McGonagall. “The problem with it is simple: it exists. Glad to hear you recognizin’ its evil, though. Plenty of folk would think I was bein’ ridiculous.”

[professor-mmcgonagall-blog]

Minerva cocked her head at the bear, "I hadn't thought to check for that, how remiss of me." She passed off the note as an answer, "I rather doubt it's charmed to attack me, but you're welcome to check if you're so inclined. Otherwise it'll be a fun surprise, just waiting to happen."

She obviously highly doubted such an outcome, but she remained entirely straight faced as she spoke. "Presuming the note and bear aren't actually intended for harm, I think it's from a parent. The helper comment gave me that impression. Any guesses?" She had a few of her own but wasn't entirely sure enough to actually go ask around-- simply an amusing guessing game until the person decided whether or not to come forward.

The ribbon comment and the glare had Minerva almost snorting at the table, amused by the reaction. Merlin help her, she hadn't expected him to dislike it that much. It was poisonous, of course, but it was the holiday cheer aspect, the kissing under mistletoe idea, that was so entertaining. Mostly because of how much Alastor would probably hate the tradition rather than the plant itself. 

"Oh, it's obviously evil. The mistletoe gives that away." Minerva smiled, glancing at Alastor, "Or the weed was only supposed to be a joke and spread holiday cheer. And surprisingly simple to find, actually. Stumbled across it while shopping for the rest." She paused, letting that sink in a little as she smirked, waiting for his reaction before continuing blithely.  "I must admit, the idea of you armed with a sprig of mistletoe was incredibly amusing. If I'd known it actually would've stopped you from opening it entirely, I would have forgone it entirely." 

[professor-mmcgonagall-blog]

Lust

Something that I find attractive

I really should not be surprised this was the first one asked

Confidence and honesty, to name two. 

[pllashley]

7 deadly sins. put one in my ask.

[professor-mmcgonagall-blog]

Lust: Something that I find attractive. Pride: Something that I like about myself. Sloth: Something that I dislike about myself. Envy: Something I wish I was better at. Gluttony: One of my favorite foods. Wrath: Something that gets me angry. Greed: Something I can’t get enough of.

[professor-mmcgonagall-blog]

Holiday Cheer || Minerva & Alastor || Christmas Ball, December 21st 1978

The dinner was dying down, allowing the guests to start circulating around a bit. Minerva wanted to circulate-- she rather blamed the holiday spirit for the urge, but it was there all the same. She was in a good mood. In the interests of ensuring she'd actually stay in a good mood, she would have to actually be careful in her choice of conversations. 

And she knew exactly who to start with. Minerva hesitated briefly, looking at the bear. Should she leave it at her dinner place? Or bring it with her? Making a decision, she grabbed the bear and her drink, walking over to Alastor's table. She sat next to him, setting the bear on the table between them. 

"I think he's better dressed than you are, Alastor," Minerva gave a half smile, crossing her legs as she looked between him and the bear as she leaned back in the chair. "I'm still trying to figure out who the giver is. Apparently everyone loves a stuffed animal." She shrugged a little, "I presume the giver is a parent."  

She looked at Moody with a more genuine smile, "Happy Christmas, by the way." It was casual, but no less genuine for it-- overt sentiment was just not what she wanted.

A gift sat untouched on the table and Minerva repressed a smirk. "So, what did the evil present do to throw you off? Did it hiss? Give off noxious gas? The ribbon clashed with your eyes?" 

[the-tenacious-auror]

Because We Need a Little Christmas || Table 3 || Christmas Ball

[ascent-to-transcendence]

No. This wasn’t happening. Lily Evans wasn’t sitting at a bloody table at a fucking Christmas Ball (tis the season) without her closest friends and her fiance and her family. This was a season to be with loved ones, to celebrate the meaning of the holiday, to have those warm fuzzy feelings of love and comfort, not interact be forced into purchasing a gift for someone random while sitting in assigned seats at a mandatory Christmas Ball at the Ministry. McGonagall and Frank were alright (though tense with the latter after her little accusation after the Rita articles), but Joshua Yaxley? Honestly, she shouldn’t have come. Stupid stupid stupid. 

Lily forced a smile over her face as she took a seat and looked around at Frank and Minerva, who had apparently arrived just before her. 

"Hello! Happy Christmas!" she chimed in quickly as she settled in, eyeing her own gift but not opening it yet. 

That’s it. Nice and cheerful.

[bloodyyax]

Joshua was damneddetermined to locate his table. He’d been searching for a good fifteen minutes now. (As if his mood hadn’t already been obliterated by that insultingly cheap ass spa-kit he’d received as a gift, apparently some genius decided it was a fantastic idea to do assigned seating tonight. Really??!) An age of pursuit later, Joshua spotted his freakin’ name at a goddamned table.

Well, he had sorta-kinda been hoping this fiesta would be more divertida than the one at the Carrow’s but um… Okay there was a guy named Frank Longbottom, and just what the fuck kind of name was that? Joshua offered him an empathetic smile because, well, that was just a shitty name to be carrying. “It could be worse,” he muttered to the man, not bothering to explain himself.

Then there was this sleek looking woman, Minerva McGonagall, who intimidated him right off the bat. Something about her caught him off guard; made him a little uneasy. And yet she had a teddy bear. He flashed an uptight smile her way. “Nice,” he motioned towards the bear, immediately feeling awkward after having done so. (Great. Now he was THAT guy — the guy who hit on the teddy bear when there were three perfectly attractive humans at the table.) Okay, just play it off, Joshua. “It’s just, you know, real cute.”  FUCK, that definitely just made it worse!

Moving right along, there was also a pretty, little redhead — Lily Evans. He tried not to cringe at her excitement, though he was thankful for the easiness in her voice. It helped the lighten the mood. (And the mood was gonna need a lot of lightening at this rate.) “Hey, yeah uh, happy Christmas,” Joshua chimed in after Lily spoke, his tone laced with encouragement as he chuckled, “Gonna be a wild night, right?”

[the-tenacious-auror]

Frank glanced up as the seats at his table began to fill up, and dug deep for a smile he didn’t quite feel anymore. “Professor McGonagall. It’s been a while. I’m glad you were able to make it out of the lions den for a while.” He teased good naturedly. When she referenced his gift, he glanced at it, his smile faltering somewhat. “I suppose every gift has different intentions, aye?” He said at last rather than commenting one way or another. Instead he focused on the new arrivals. When Lily sat down, he began wondering if he should just feign illness and retreat like the coward he suddenly felt he resembled. Was she still angry with him or had they really managed to move on? Did she understand? Knowing how Alice kept spinning everything toward his side of the boat, he wouldn’t be surprised to find himself capsized by a ton of ‘facts’ that weren’t really all that true at all. Still, he tried for a smile, returning her happy Christmas with one of his own.

When the last member of their table sat down, he arched a brow at the bizarre smile aimed his way. Had that been apologetic? What for? Godric this was going to be a long night. “Merlin I hope not.” Frank said in response to the ‘wild night’ prediction. “After the last few ‘wild nights’ at social functions, I would be very content with a boring party that ends when its suppose to and sends me on my way home with nothing more than a headache.” He couldn’t do another Halloween. Not tonight.

[professor-mmcgonagall-blog]

Minerva smirked, "I wouldn't want to deprive you all of my company." The smile faded slightly at Frank's comment, but she was prevented from asking further by the arrival of Miss Evans. 

She recognized that smile. It was a smile she'd seen a couple thousand times at Hogwarts-- the memory hadn't faded that quickly. Barely even arrived and already Minerva suspected this table was going to be... interesting. Probably not in the good, happy Christmas sort of way. "Happy Christmas, Miss Evans," She gave a friendly smile, "Are you alright?" 

Mr. Yaxley arrived and Minerva smirked, "Thank you. It's rather fuzzy too." The smirk widened, amused by the obvious fumbling. "Did you want it to sit by you, Mr. Yaxley? So long as you don't steal it, I don't mind sharing." 

"Miss Evans, are you quite alright?" It seemed like she'd opened her gift in the lull of conversation and looked rather pale. 

[professor-mmcgonagall-blog]

- Christmas Party outfit

[the-tenacious-auror]

Because We Need a Little Christmas || Table 3 || Christmas Ball

Frank had arrived in relatively high spirits. He was tired, but not as tired as he’d been at the engagement party, but then…Mary had been good for his sleeping patterns. He smiled to himself as he settled down at his assigned table, glancing at the name cards curiously. He wasn’t sure how to feel about Lily. Normally he would have been excited because it was someone he knew, but after their last conversation he could only imagine how shed be feeling about him.

He was glad that the professor was at his table. I wonder if it ever bothers her to be a perpetual professor? I can’t really think of her as anything but. She was certainly the wisest woman he’d ever met. If not for Dumbledore he might have considered her the wisest person. His eyes narrowed on the last name. Yaxley…why was that familiar? Unable to summon anything beyond a vague recollection of a blonde Slytherin with an ego the size of a hot air balloon, Frank dismissed him and reached for the water glass tucked neatly behind his wine glass.

There were enough rumors going around about him being a ‘boozehound’ without him promoting it. He glanced at his gift again, and his expression dimmed. Why would anyone write something so cruel in a gift? He’d rather have received nothing at all.

[professor-mmcgonagall-blog]

Minerva arrived at the table, smiling politely at Frank as she went to take a seat. "Happy Christmas, Mr. Longbottom." Admittedly, the present took her attention away from making polite small talk-- something for which she was somewhat grateful. A rather useless gesture, more often than not, small talk. Only good in that it was 'proper' rather than anything more interesting. 

Opening the present, Minerva gave a small smile before letting the bear sit on the table. A sweet gift, even if the sender's identity still somewhat baffled her. A puzzle for when the conversation lulled, no doubt. In the meantime, she did have a table companion to speak to. "Did you get anything interesting?" 

Other inquiries would wait. Ms. Skeeter's articles were never anything Minerva would take seriously unless the information was confirmed by the person themselves-- it was better to get information from the source every time, any teacher could tell you that. A consequence of dealing with adolescents for a living. 

[professor-mmcgonagall-blog]

Playing Catch Up || Alice & Minerva Chat || December 16, 1978

[temporarilydistracted]

With a drink in hand and a few more in her belly, warming her through, it was difficult not to dwell on the brooding man across the room and the words they had exchanged the night before. Even in their honeymoon phase, loving Frank had never felt like this— had never made the world feel hot to the touch, had never made her glow like a fool. And a fool she was for him and him alone, aching even then to cross the room and crawl into his lap, to whisper sweet nothings into his ear and convince him to leave with her.

This was why she wasn’t paying attention in the least when she stepped too close to her former Transfiguration professor. Minerva was looking as matronly stunning as ever, somehow both severe and beautiful in the same breath, and managed to look perfectly put together despite that unusually soft look on her face and tendrils of hair shaken loose from her bun. Alice had always held Minerva in alarmingly high regards, being a Ravenclaw aside. 

She couldn’t help the way her eyes flicked to the man in question when her teacher spoke his name, checking to ensure he was still present (though apparently having a miserable time). “Yes, ma’am,” came the automatic reply, a little subdued. Minerva would have known her career path even better than most— it was from her that Alice had received a letter of recommendation, allowing one of the few female and the smallest ever recruit in the same blow to join the Academy. “I’m still on his team, rather. When training is up that might change. How are you?”

[professor-mmcgonagall-blog]

The obvious distraction was not something Minerva particularly remembered or associated with Mrs. Longbottom, but she did look similar to what she remembered. A bit more thin, perhaps, but she didn't look unhappy, per say. Which was good, considering the rumors and concern that had been surrounding the Rabbit Hole... incident seemed inappropriate and disaster didn't fit quite right either. But both worked well enough. 

Alice looked almost harder, though. More sharp edges, perhaps put in place by her training, perhaps by the war-- there were too many possible causes that would create the effect. But if anyone could handle it, Minerva believed it would be her. That much strength of character was apparent even in Hogwarts. Minerva knew a survivor when she saw one. 

She smiled, "I'm sure he's an excellent teacher for you. Very capable-- I'm glad you're training with him. It seems an excellent match, in my mind. Complimentary strengths, in many ways." Her smile turned slightly wry, "Though the chance of you two conflicting also seems rather likely. Is it going well?"

Minerva laughed softly at herself, "Forgive me for prying, I don't mean to offend if I am. I'm simply curious. Lots of gossip and other such nonsense, I'm far more interested in hearing how you are from the source, as it were." 

[professor-mmcgonagall-blog]

The Alabaster Stage || October 31, 1978 || Fabian & Minerva [TW: Description of Gore]

[afreshfabianstrategy]

Here it went. He set his jaw, determined not to look away. No…they were doing this. They were culpable. It stood to reason that they had to face it.

“Obliviate.”

This was what his twin did for a living…wiping minds. Taking memories. He wanted to ask McGonagall—Minerva?— what memories she took…what she’d replaced them with. He hoped she’d only taken the tragedy and the pain, left the family intact. Let her remember her sister, as she’d been before all of this.

“Alright. Let’s find a hospital.” He wondered where the girl’s parents were. Thinking back to the specks of blood on his clothing, the bits of body parts scattered around the street, he nearly gagged for remembering it was people…for knowing it could be her parents.

Please let them be alright.

He didn’t know who he was asking, exactly. Someone. Anyone, with that sort of authority. The universe writ large, maybe. He wanted to know there was someone looking for this girl. That a family would come rushing in, swoop her into their arms, none the wiser for the things they’d suffered. He didn’t want her to be an orphan.

They weren’t hard to find, Muggle hospitals. Especially not tonight. Sirens blaring from Piccadilly, crowds dashing about, arms full of the wounded and injured. A few words to an attendant—McGonagall’s doing, not his…she blended better—and the little girl was off, getting herself examined by a man with a necklace that made Fabian question his sanity. All these metal bits and bobs, cuffs and pumps. Invasive prodding and shining lights. He and McGonagall stood by as this inspection went on, finally being nodded at by the doctor, who told them he’d keep her overnight just to be safe, and did they know her name? It was a kick to the gut that he didn’t. Had she told them? Had he forgotten? For Godric’s sake, what if they couldn’t identify her?

“Jane,” she piped up quietly, easing Fabian’s anxiety a little. “I’m Jane Elizabeth Murray.” The doctor nodded, scribbling out a note and talking to her reassuringly before thanking the pair for bringing her by.

Fabian was almost loathe to leave her alone, in this mess. He’d come back here himself tomorrow, he knew he would. Just to check in. To make sure she was alright. That her parents were alive. That she had a home, a proper home. Otherwise, he couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t magic them both out of there and look after her himself, sod the consequences. The Death Eaters had done enough damage…shattered enough lives, broken enough families. Like hell he’d let them hurt her still, after the fact. He said nothing to McGonagall about that train of thought. About his plans to come back, if he had to. He could already see the paperwork and the shouting, the Aurors and the Obliviators and the officials all berating him for the mess he’d caused, kidnapping a Muggle child, orphanage or no.

Merlin willing, it wouldn’t come to that.

They were outside again, breath coming in short, visible puffs. “I’m going to go back,” Fabian said quietly. “Right now. To find her parents.” But first, McGonagall had something of his. He held out his hand for his flask, gaze meeting hers for all the shame he felt in standing there, arm outstretched. He wouldn’t summon it back. Wouldn’t do her the discourtesy of hunting for it himself. He ought to leave it. Pretend he hadn’t taken it out at all, and that she hadn’t grabbed it. That it’d been an impulse, a one time occurrence…that he didn’t need it. Could walk away without it now, some semblance of her good opinion intact. But why pretend? He wasn’t seventeen anymore. This was the truth…his truth. And he was done making excuses.

[professor-mmcgonagall-blog]

In another circumstance, it would have been amusing to see a wizard's reaction to a Muggle hospital. Minerva tried to keep herself at least a little in the loop, picking up Muggle newspapers on occasion, spending time with her family here and there-- a demonstration of a stubborn kind of interest, she supposed. She was out of touch with the Muggle world and its strange "science," but at least she understood enough of it to not look too shocked when she entered the hospital. 

She tried not to hover over the girl, letting the Healers-- doctors-- look at her. Any sort of healing she did would only make the poor girl's night even more complicated, better to let the Muggles take care of her. But it was a relief, all the same, to hear her speak up. Minerva smiled, just a little, wishing she could do more. That she could've done something to help sooner instead of just bringing her here. Necessity, perhaps, entirely out of her control, something she should simply let go of. Refuse to feel guilt for. 

But she couldn't. Minerva was one of the best with spells in the Order, she should have been able to take down the spells separating the children from the crowd, or at least free the children themselves, something. Anything, really. She had failed, both the Order and that little girl. Jane. And who knew how many others-- siblings, parents... Fabian's voice broke Minerva from her reverie before she could cycle too far down.

Minerva hesitated slightly, "If you can't find them, the doctors would be able to find them as well. Or the police. They'll find her family for her." Even if her parents are scattered around the stage. They'll find someone to look after her. She couldn't stand to think of the alternative.  "But I would like to help. If you would want my company or assistance, that is. Otherwise I can help elsewhere, if you would prefer." 

Glancing at his outstretched hand, Minerva almost grimaced. Right. The flask. "Of course. I believe I owe you an apology, on that front. I interfered in a way I should not have. You are an adult, Mr. Prewett and I am no longer in a position to monitor your actions. I apologize for attempting to do so." She took it out of her robes, handing it over calmly. "I truly only did what I thought was best. Alcohol during a mission seemed... unsafe." Minerva hesitated, "I- I would not like to see you hurt, Mr. Prewett. Fabian. Adult or no, I still care about many of my students."

[professor-mmcgonagall-blog]

Professor McGonagall,

A helper of mine said that everyone likes stuffed animals, so here’s a Scottish bear for you. 

Secret Santa

{Minerva smiled faintly at the present, amused that someone had apparently decided to not only get her a bear, but a Scottish bear with a little kilt and tartan and everything. 

It was rather charming, for sure. Far too fluffy for anyone like Alastor to give her, despite their recent conversation-- unless he asked Ms. Vance for assistance. Which would be a minor miracle, really, him asking for her advice and taking it seriously. 

She glanced around, quietly assessing the likelihood of who would give her such a gift and was unsuccessful. The fact it'd been recommended as a gift by her Secret Santa's "helper" didn't exactly narrow the field. Well, at least trying to figure out her Secret Santa's identity would be something to mull over for a while]

[professor-mmcgonagall-blog]

Overdue for Trouble [Open Chat]

[afreshfabianstrategy]

Maybe not.

I could see it. Other sources of fun, huh? Such as? If you don’t mind my asking, that is.

And a kitten? I’ve been there. My cat Rasputin used to climb everything. He fancies inkwells. Worst part was, he’s already all-black so I could never tell…at least until the footprints started.

[professor-mmcgonagall-blog]

Smart choice. 

If I minded, I would say as much, so don't worry. I play chess, I look for tartan patterns, I watch Quidditch, etc. etc. And what do you do then, for fun, Mr- Fabian?

Rasputin the cat, that's rather clever-- sounds like the name was appropriate as well. Sekhmet tends to enjoy laying all over my papers and books. The least she could do is glare at students in trouble, but no. She winds around my ankles and purrs. It's ruining my reputation.