𝖕 𝖗 𝖎 𝔡 𝖊

a dependent blog for minerva mcgonagall exclusive for silencio-rp.

[shesall]

silenciochang‌:

While he regretted any show of emotion really (it was a slippery slope to go from irritation to anger and then an explosion… hence his hands) but this one had been necessary. He would not be told by another how he should handle his own family affairs. Professor McGonagall was an incredibly intelligent woman, but she was not Niniane’s sister. He was her family, it was his responsibility.

Despite is hurting him, Bloise moved his battered hands to rest against his stomach clasped together, it was his default posture most of the time and he took comfort in it despite the soreness of his hands.

“I wish that were enough to soothe such fears, Professor.” he said quietly, “Professor Dumbledore himself could be guarding my sister morning, noon and night and I would still for her, deeply.” he looked over at Minerva, a portion of his formality slipping since he couldn’t hide the sadness, the worry in his eyes. Despite all he did to prevent it, his emotions always came through in his eyes.

It was one way his sister consistently saw through him, she could read Bloise better than anyone and there was little he could do to stop her. He knew the truth would out eventually, he was no fool. But, for just a little while longer he wanted his sister to remain perfectly safe and in blissful ignorance.  

Perhaps it was not what one should wish upon a sibling but he couldn’t help himself. When Minerva spoke again his eyes widened slightly and he was quiet fro a few moments before responding, “Professor I could not ask you to do that. You have too many responsibilities to Hogwarts and yourself to put your time to the task.” That and it was worrying to think of relying on someone else that way.

For a moment Minerva’s mind drifted to Alastor. The fact that he was out there in the thick of everything gave her so much anxiety but still she put forth a face of contentment and control. He was powerful, and he was good at his job — probably the best that ever was — but she still had her fears, because more than anything... she knew her own limits.

If something happened to him? She wouldn’t survive it mentally, even if she continued to move forward physically.

“None of us can ask anything of the other. We are bound by duty and our commitment to this cause, but it doesn’t mean that even if you tell me you can’t ask me that I won’t. She’s your sister; your blood. I get that... but she’s one of the many I’m fighting for — one of the many I’ve sworn to die to protect — so please don’t tell me you can’t ask me to do something I’m going to do anyway.” Minerva would come to be known for that expression; the one that accepted no rebuttal and was final in its posture. She was who she was for a reason.

“But,” she continued, offering a shake of her head, “I won’t stop you from keeping an eye on your sister as well, only remind you that if you let yourself get tangled up like that, something worse could happen in your rage. If someone notices how you react in these situations, they’ll use against you, Bloise.”

She didn’t reach a hand out to touch him again, instead, she stared blank-faced and resolute at him, exhaling slowly, “We all have a lot to lose, and I don’t want any of us to have to actually sacrifice in that way. We will, but I’ll fight tooth and nail so we don’t.”

[mr-potter]

Making calls | Minerva & James

[shesall]

disxillusixned‌:

Despite being a bit troublesome a student when back at school, James liked to think that he had been able to push his way into the heart of his favourite teacher. He might even, in certain situations (say a drinking argument with Sirius), claim to be her best one ever, but the truth was that he had actually always really wanted to be as dear to her as she was to him. Minerva McGonagall, better known as Minnie or McGee, had stormed into his life on his first day of school and James had been absolutely swept off his feet. She was everything he wanted to be as a grown-up — a magically powerful person with such a powerful personality that despite only starting out as a teacher had commandeered respect. And she might have been his very first teenage crush, but oh he was so not letting anyone know about that. 

After finishing school ha had some trouble with finding a steady ground when it came to interacting with his former teacher, but as the years went by and the age gap grew less prominent the interactions became easier. A cuppa here and there while discussing Order business, MM’s politics or the latest Quidditch match had become a bit of a tradition. 

Her sudden appearance next to him caught him off guard. And it definitely shouldn’t have, but he had sort of been distracted with a cat he thought was a witch in her animagus form. However, as soon as he heard her steps beside him (a tiny moment before she kneeled down next to him) his hand moved to the wand he liked to carry in his back pocket. 

As soon as her greeting words with their amused tilt registered in his ears he relaxed a bit. That surely was Minnie, no doubt about it. ‘I’d say it’s a British thing. Who doesn’t like some good tea?’ He argued quickly though he wasn’t really embarrassed about being caught talking to a cat. It was a bit of a running joke for the boys and they definitely had been caught before by less understanding people. ‘Alright. Let me put the kettle on.’ He answered and stood up opening his door with an over the top flourish making sure it was obvious that he wanted her to go in first —- like a well-behaved gentleman. ‘I don’t think I have tuna, but I might find some sardines.’

Minerva made a habit of watching him and a few other students for a reason. She might not have kids of her own — and truthfully their ages were too close to consider them kids of her own — but she still saw them as family and someones to protect. As much as she believed in their abilities and their position in the Order, she knew well enough that relying solely on belief sometimes got people hurt. So she took it a step further and feline-stalked them at times. Nothing creepy, she’d assure you, just when she’d heard of someone going to be on the attack.

Her fingers found the middle of the stray, the other hand coming around to scoop beneath their feet and hoist them up against her as she sidled past James and into his place with the cat cuddled up to her almost too at home; it was likely because she smelled a lot like him and truly Minerva had a rapport with animals.

“Sardines will work, the bones are edible and she might actually like that.” Her fingers came around to scratch along the side of the cat’s neck and she looked over James’ place almost as a disappointed older sister might. Not that he kept it in disarray or that things were gross, but because she truly wanted more for him than he had right now, and she knew that’d never happen until the War was settled.

“It seems like you were expecting me. Are you always speaking to cats thinking that they’re me following you around?” Minerva asked with a brow raised, depositing the cat on a chair nearby so that it may roam — it’d behave itself, she knew this much — before looking around at the interior of his place with a bit more speculation.

[auror-scrimgeour-deactivated202]

Crossing | Open

[shesall]

auror-scrimgeour‌:

Even though he had thrown her into the deep end, she had adjusted quickly. Clever as she was, she moved to give him a better view of the target. He saw the man approach the crosswalk and wait for the light to change. Now wasn’t the time to try to grab the man, as there was no cover to do his questioning. So, he stayed in his position. 

“I’ll make sure it ends well before then.” He was aware of her commitments to the school, although he was fairly certain she would’ve done well as an Auror. This task, he knew, wouldn’t take very long. 

The light eventually turned, and the target made his way across. Rufus took one of her hands and wrapped it around his arm, keeping up the appearance as if they were a couple. He tilted his head down closer to her’s, as if he might be telling her something sweet in her ear. “We’ll keep a little distance between us and him.” 

Leading the way across the street, he made a point of glancing down at her every now and then to keep up appearances. Wherever the target went, they weren’t far behind. “I can’t help but notice that you seem practiced, or at least somewhat comfortable in this sort of situation. I suppose you keeping an eye on your people has given you practice with this sort of thing.” He was digging, he knew, but he couldn’t shake the curiosity. It had been a bit of a surprise how well she was taking it so far. In any case, he supposed that he ought to count himself lucky on this one.

The man took a turn down an alley, and Rufus led them just to the corner. Cautiously, he crept forward and peered around the corner. His target appeared to be approaching another person who’d been waiting in the alley. He couldn’t get a clear view of the second person, except for just the back of the person’s head, as they were standing behind a dumpster. The two people didn’t talk for very long, and soon his target was making his way back toward them. 

Rufus pulled his head back. “Here he comes. I’ll grab him if you keep a lookout to make sure no one comes this way.”

The appearance of being a couple was not something she was used to, publically, but she was more than familiar with, in a more private setting. She spent most of her free time away from the Order or work ( which was very little to begin with ) wrapped in Moody’s embrace in the same way. This public eye thing didn’t bother her only because she was confident in who she was, where she stood, and what it meant to help out an Auror.

She smiled as he leaned down, even managing to affect a small blush, her eyes darting up to his face and her words didn’t quite match the expression, but they also weren’t harsh, “I have siblings, and I have a life outside of my work at school. I’ve learned over time how to be what I can to everyone while still being me, no?”

Her attention dragged down to glance at the man they were tailing —a flitting of her eyes over his person to make sure that, when her eyes weren’t focused, she could still track his position without looking directly at him — then back up to Rufus. She said nothing but gave him the most adoring eyes, and if one were keen they might have seen something else in her mind’s eye for that moment.

As they pulled up short near the alley, she gave a nod, gently disentangling herself and shifting her position a bit so that her wand could be at the ready, but also managing to pull out a small mirror to ‘check her rouge’ as it were while Rufus got in position to grab the man. It gave her a full view of both ways without being suspicious, “After you, ‘my love’.”

[shesall]

silenciochang‌:

It wasn’t that he wanted to risk pushing Niniane away, but he’d been no stranger to being told that sometimes he couldn’t do something because it wasn’t safe for him. He’d heard it often growing up and the idea had remained with him. And it wasn’t as though they’d reached a point of arguing yet, she’d seemed to take his requests most graciously… Though he hadn’t necessarily voiced them as such, but rather made it seem he were happy to do jobs so that she wouldn’t have to.  

There was only so long that would last though. His sister wasn’t dumb and he knew there were only so many times ‘I like collecting the delivery’ would fly before she decided to simply go for herself. Diagon was a busy place, full of crowds, it would be so easy for her to vanish into one and never be heard from again. Every day the Prophet seemed to report another story of a poor unfortunate who’d just gone about their daily business and just vanished. He couldn’t handle that happening to Niniane.    

“And what if I step back and do not act Professor?” he asked, finally looking up and feeling an irk that he pushed down, determined to keep his voice even. “What if I do ask you suggest and she goes out to deliver an order or just for a walk and she’s never heard from again? What then? I feel it may be much easier to give such advice when you are not in the same position as myself, Ma’am.”

So careful, as polite as possible when he felt embers of anger, she didn’t have a vulnerable sister to worry for night and day. “I am keeping an eye on her. But I do not want her keeping an eye on me when she’ll only worry.” he gave up and brought his hands forward, both of then badly scraped, a blood covering his fingers, “If she saw this it would only make her worry. And I suspect you and I both know if the wizarding public at large knew how deadly the state of play was they’d be frozen in fear.”  

Minerva understood the sentiment and forgave him the... arrogance? Was that the right word? Either way, the fact that he felt he was the only one in that situation, and the fact that Minerva was not constantly losing her head in the protection of those she cared about. She wouldn’t voice that out loud, but she still eyed him curiously for a moment, before taking a step back.

Both arms folded across her chest and she exhaled slowly, watching his face. He felt the safety of his sister was only his concern, and that’s how a family was. Once you’re that attached to someone you start to feel as if you’re the only one that can keep them safe.

“None of us would let anything happen to your sister, Bloise. Any more than you would. No one can be everywhere at once, but trust me when I say we’re taking every precaution to keep your sister and everyone’s loved ones safe.” She offered softly — thoughtfully — before closing her eyes and letting out a small sigh.

The truth was, if she could work it in she’d be sitting right outside Niniane’s place as a cat as much as she did for anyone. She had the feeling that Niniane would take about as kindly to that as she did to the idea of being over-protected by her brother. Grateful, but annoyed, maybe.

Minerva knew if the shoe was on the other foot she’d be annoyed, but the people who loved her tended to believe in her ability to keep herself safe, and on top of that, they believed in the power of the Order to do so as well. After what seemed like aeons of silence, she proposed, “What if I help you keep an eye on her? That way you do not run yourself into the ground and I make myself more useful. People usually don’t pay any mind to another cat roaming around.”

[shesall]

silenciochang‌:

“I do Ma’am.” he said with a small nod. Manners were good. They reminded him of hierarchy and discipline and those helped him keep other, less productive, feelings in check. Of course he’d failed miserably in their affair this evening but it had been some time since he’d had to go to this extreme to be able to think straight again. He would be useless to the Order if he was too pent up to fulfil any missions given to him.

And Bloise woudl rather work through his anger till his hands were bloody then be useless to the organisation that did this much good. If not for them the forces they battled against might’ve already had control of the country.  

“But I would give it up. In a heartbeat.” Bloise said, looking over at Minerva with utter sincerity. “I’m making no great different to the world, my sister, the people who deserve to live in peace and happiness, they’re all worth so much more. My life is dedicated to this cause.” He didn’t really have a life outside of Order missions and working and Slug and Jiggers, there was nothing else for him really. “I would never want to impede her freedom Professor but I-” he paused and looked down, “I’ve tried to protect her all my life. I cannot simply stop doing that.”

If only it were so easy. He’d caused his sister, his family trouble when he was younger as his temper got away from him. He’d hated how it made them feel and did everything possible now to be an asset, not a burden. He winced a little as he clasped his hands behind his back when Minerva touched his shoulder. “I do not… I do not like thinking of any loss as acceptable, Professor.” Perfectionism was good in potion making, but not always helpful elsewhere. “My worry, about all these matters, it never fades. It is always present.”  

Minerva was no stranger to the idea of protecting someone ( or someones ) who didn’t necessarily know how far you were going for them or didn’t necessarily need your help. It was the entirety of her being most nights to be standing watch over her capable former students, or checking in on one of the world’s greatest Aurors as if somehow her tiny frame ( cat or no ) would protect them better than their own skill.

So, for a moment, her attention lingered on Bloise with a look that seemed almost dismissive, but people would soon come to know was just the look she had when her brain was processing complex information and parsing it into feelings and otherwise. She respected Bloise’s commitment to keeping his sister safe, but still knew that — as a woman who has been over-protected quite a bit herself — just how much that can wear thin and begin to breed rebellion. But how to broach that. 

“Keeping her safe is one thing, Bloise,” a first name, they weren’t in school and she’d keep that up until he felt comfortable, regardless of how quickly her tongue had wanted to form Mr. Chang, “but you have to understand that the tighter you hold on to that the more she’ll want to get free. There’s a difference between being protective and being overtly over-protective.”

A pause now, stepping closer and reaching up to brush his hair — motherly at best, and somewhat awkward at worst — before offering him a tight smile, “Keep an eye on her, but let her be free... otherwise...”

Minerva’s eyes averted, thinking to her own thoughts of rebellion at times; she snapped her attention back to him with the same tight smile, “Just trust me on this one.”

[auror-scrimgeour-deactivated202]

Crossing | Open

[shesall]

auror-scrimgeour‌:

He’d hardly noticed her slip out her wand to heal his hands, and he couldn’t help but smirk at it. She was sneaky. At once, his hands felt much better. Although, he knew better than to remove his bandages now. Call it paranoia, but he didn’t want some nosy tosser to notice that he had bandages on one moment and then not the next. Maybe all the years in the field were getting to him. But she seemed to do the same, looking at his hands for longer than was necessary to keep up the facade. When she did let go, he nodded in thanks and dropped his hands to his side. 

A curious look spread across his face when she answered his question. Too protective of. That was interesting, but he didn’t press further. “I see,” was all he said. It wasn’t his place to pry into her business, and it seemed hardly unreasonable for her to go and make sure the people she cared about were safe, especially in times like these. 

Rufus shook his head at her suggestion. “London is large. And if you say that he’s gone to the Underground, which I think you’re likely right about, then there’s a snowball’s chance in Hell that we’ll find him.” If his target had half a brain, the man wouldn’t backtrack from the direction he came.

Something moved just beyond her. “Unless…,” his voice trailed. He moved his head a little to her left and squinted his eyes in an attempt to get a clearer look at someone who suspiciously looked like the man he’d been trailing. “Unless he’s a complete idiot.” 

There was the bastard walking right toward them. He wondered if the man was returning from somewhere, or had made a brief stop and was heading to his true destination. “He’s coming right by. Keep your eyes down.” As he instructed her, he, too, averted his gaze downward but kept the corner of his eye able to watch the man who now walked right by them without noticing, or at least didn’t appear to notice them. 

To be safe, Rufus stayed where he was for a few moments. Keeping an eye on his target, he asked her, “Want to follow him with me? I might need to ask him some questions, and he does seem to be slippery son of a bitch.”

It was oftentimes surprising to Minerva just how absorbed people got in their own business. They had gotten curious glances for their focus, but when people realized it wasn’t some great scandal they’d started to ignore them. As if cued by the others before them, new people who walked past didn’t even spare them another glance.  She wondered, if only briefly, whether muggles were ignorant to wizards because of the effort of wizards, or for their own self-interests.

For a moment she was disheartened at Rufus’ refusal of her help, not because she was insulted but because Minerva was truly bored a lot of the time. As his attention drifted over her shoulder and he began to speak hushedly (and hurriedly) again, she gave a small knowing nod. Her fingers went from his hands to curl against his forearm as if they were lovers or old friends. No one wanted to see PDA so most people would avoid looking at two people who seemed far too cosy for their own good, “Don’t get your knickers in a bunch and play along, eh, Rufus?”

Part of her knew he was aware of how to play along in situations like this, and her head dipped briefly against his shoulder to give him a better reason to shift and glance at the man to get a clearer look, nodding all the while at his suggestion, “You have me until I’m needed back at school, which shouldn’t be until tomorrow, truth be told.”

The excitement was something she wanted, something to get her mind off what was happening around them and the danger that the people she cared about were in. Anything at all to make her feel less trapped in her situation. She loved teaching — she wouldn’t give it up for the world, even if someone begged her — but deep down in her heart of hearts, she wanted to be more useful to the cause and doing more... daring things, she supposed.

For now, she’d be the girl on Rufus’ arm, and be led along as was needed, regardless of where her affections truly lied. She could pretend just as well as anyone else, and if need be ( for the sake of the wizarding world, as it might be in peril ) she could act twitterpated. 

[shesall]

silenciochang‌:

Bloise had been an exceptionally well behaved student, a prefect! Yes he knew he had a temper but he also knew that the anger needed to be contained and dealt with constructively. That was why he had martial arts, that was why he’d joined the Quidditch team. The time for such hobbies was gone now, he could scarcely find time to indulge in small drills these days between his desperation to help with the Order whenever he could and keep the shop well supplied.

His sister’s safety came first and that included protecting her from an issue she no longer thought he had. If that culminated in him beating his own hands bloody and hiding out in a safe house until the dead of night then… Well as prices went there were far worse things he could be expected to pay.

That didn’t mean he enjoyed seeing Professor McGonagall come across him in such a state. He’d striven to earn her respect in Hogwarts. “I couldn’t possibly, Professor, it would be disrespectful to your position and your skill.” he said, inclining his head slightly. Teachers were afforded titles because they worked for them, he couldn’t bring himself to ignore that effort even when the other asked.

“I-” He paused and looked down, a hot feeling of shame at the base of his neck, “My apologies Professor. The news at Hogsmeade.” he swallowed, “I took my sister there, she could’ve been hurt. I need to train harder,” he needed to punish himself for failing to stop those attacks.  

Minerva had some experience with expectations, and also quite a bit of experience with dealing with men who had it in their mind that the world rested on their shoulders and somehow — and only with rigorous training — they could overcome things that weren’t possible. It wasn’t easy to prepare for a surprise attack, because if you spend your life doing that all you do is look over your shoulder, and what kind of life is that, truly?

She was exceptional, that much was true, and had worked hard for her position and all the titles that existed in her person on the whole. She had never been handed a single thing merely because of her family name or her status, and though she would not likely fault anyone who had been offered such avenues to power, she couldn’t really respect the ones who thought that anyone who didn’t have birthright was unworthy.

A shrug lifted Minerva’s shoulders for a moment after she tugged the drapes as far as they’d go and turned to regard Bloise thoughtfully, hands coming to rest on her hips, “If you prefer Professor, that’s fine, but...”

It was only a moment’s pause, but she did remember that they had all had people very close to the deaths that could have very well been someone they loved... or Minerva herself, in that case. Her mind went briefly to Alastor and she shook her head — not now, you have someone who needs your help, Minerva — and offered Bloise a tight smile, “You can’t prepare for a surprise without giving up your life on the whole. I assure you your sister wouldn’t be thrilled if you started to keep an eye on her as if she were a prisoner or as some kind of precious object to be kept on lock and key.”

Moving over, Minerva rested a single hand on his shoulder and squeezed, giving him a smile, “What we can do is prepare in an earnest, but not zealous, way. We can help each other. Your sister’s fine and you need to relish that rather than thinking of all the horrible things that could have happened. She was protected because of the measures we have taken, I’m sure... the losses are regrettable and immeasurable, as we don’t want to lose anyone, but... it could have been worse and I’m thankful it wasn’t.”

[macgyvers]

[kourtwrites]

Priscilla Quintana on Instagram

[silenciochang]

When: Present Day (Game Time) Evening  Where: Order Safe House With: Minerva @shesall​

Bloise tried not to frequent Order safe houses very often, they were needed by those currently on active missions much more than he and he has his own apartment to remain in. But, there was a reason he was reluctant to return. His sister said she’d be stopping by to drop off some new ingredients he’d wanted since there wasn’t room in the shop and he wasn’t… in a state he’d want her to see. 

He tried to keep his anger his check, he was much better at it now but, those two murders, on the edge of such a happy party, one he’d taken his sister too! He’d put her in danger, he should’ve known better, he should’ve been more vigilant. Alastor would be ashamed. So he’d gone sparring, turned a desk into a wooden manakin and punched, kicked, tackled and head-butted till he felt able to think again. All that was left behind was a hollow feeling of shame and two heavily scratched and bleeding hands. 

So he was hiding for lack of a better word. He’d sneak back home after he was sure Niniane would have been and gone and fix himself up. Or at least that was the plan until the door opened and he jolted up to see his old Transfiguration teacher walk in. “Professor McGonagall. I-I didn’t know his house was in use Ma’am.” he said politely, keeping his head down and (somewhat childishly) trying to hide his battered hands behind his back.

[shesall]

Minerva was an adept witch, which meant that when enchantments needed to be reseeded and maintained, she found herself in charge of those jobs. The safe houses were important as they offered sanctuary to those people who were out on trying missions and needed, as the name might imply: a safe haven. Minerva took that job very seriously because of the fact that every member of the Order somehow felt as if they were family, especially given that some of them were very near and dear to her heart, and more than a few were former students.

She generally got to them when they weren’t in use, as it made it easier to pass herself off as some muggle just off about their business if she didn’t get surprised when she came in on someone. There was generally a roster of people and the jobs they were doing in which areas, so she generally knew when things were safe and when they weren’t. 

It made seeing the lights on in the old safe house even more startling, and she’d crept in by the shade of the curtains pulled deep across the windows to find Bloise there just losing it on a manakin. A moment’s pause was given, which gave him ample time to notice her there, and she gave a soft sigh and a shrug of her shoulders. At that moment, he reminded her more of Alastor than he would probably be comfortable with.

“Minerva’s fine, you’re not in school anymore, Bloise.” came first, then she reached over to draw the curtains deeper as if doubling down on their folding over each other would keep them both safe, “Should I ask why you are absolutely destroying that or should I just assume?”

[mr-potter]

Making calls | Minerva & James

Where: Muggle London, a street close to his flat When: A few days after the murders With: @shesall

The sound of his apparation scared away one of the many stray cats that frequented his neighbourhood. The ruckus it created (the sound of a flower pot falling to the ground and breaking into tiny pieces as the underfed tabby unbalanced it along the way) was definitely louder than any apparation or disapparation ever and James had to actually look around to make sure no one’s attention got picked because of it. Fortunately, most likely due to the late hour, the street was empty without even a single car driving in or away, leaving James in the clear. He could breathe a sigh of relief since actually having to deal with the exposure would simply be too much for today. Or tomorrow, or even a week after that. 

The life right now was even more hectic than usual, and that said a lot considering the ongoing war, but somehow the universe and the dark bastards had been able to manage just that. The whole Department had been thrown into what felt like a typhoon with people running in and out of the offices and then some more even though the whole investigation was most likely going to end up on top of the unsolved-cases case pile. He grimaced at the thought as he moved in the direction of his flat absolutely unable to clear his head from the depressing thought. There was too little good in his life nowaday and even less so as his best friends got sent away on separate missions and he got stranded alone in London with nothing but his owl for company… And apparently another stray that seemed to be following him for the last hundred meters or so. 

At first, he thought nothing of it, his neighbourhood, in particular, seemed stray friendly as they were almost everywhere he went but those starved cats didn’t usually follow people around without meowing their little hearts out begging for scraps. And as far as he could tell in the darkness that surrounded him (the street lamp right in front of his building stopped working over a week ago and still hasn’t been fixed) it was a clean, well-fed pet that was also a Tabby. He grinned happily at the cat and he fished out the keys to his place and jiggled them for a moment. The cat’s eyes followed the movement and yet, James didn’t notice the lack of darker marks around its eyes. ‘Popping in for a cuppa, are we? If I had known I would’ve bought some better biscuits, Prof.’

[shesall]

There was a hint of amusement across her face as she watched James. There was a reason he and his friends had been among her favorite former students, and as she stood there in the shadows watching him talk to a cat that was very much not her ( the coloring around the eyes was all wrong ) and invite it in for tea, she let out a small, almost noiseless snort.

She wondered for a moment if she should just make her way on, let James think he knew everything only to find out he was offering tea to an actual cat and likely having a long conversation with it about things that he ought not to be talking to normal, everyday cats about. But in some ways that seemed far too cruel for her to do to her favorite former student.

Minerva wasn’t a cat as she stepped out of the shadows, but she did kneel down next to James ( a man who was probably wise enough to have shifted a hand towards his wand at a sudden shadow at his side ) and scritch just beneath the cat’s chin, offering it a warm smile. She loved cats, and perhaps that’s why she favored them in her transfigurations of her own person, “You know, Mr. Potter, it’s really strange to offer cats tea?”

Now her gaze lifted to find him, and there was a hint of amusement across her face. His son, in the far future, wouldn’t ever see that look too much, but as it stood she felt like the world was wrong but not so wrong as to give up on it or lose her mirth; a moment’s pause, and she offered, “I’ll take her cuppa, though, and perhaps we can get her a bite of tinned tuna instead?”

Though not wholly apparent to those who didn’t know her well, she was teasing. The stoic Professor McGonagall did so love to have her own fun.

[shesall]

toujourscissa‌:

Often, when Narcissa got to thinking a bit too critically, she could find herself in an entire world of her own. Whether it was something as simple as which dress she preferred, or as profound as if she was or wasn’t living up to her potential. The presence of another had taken Narcissa by surprise; perhaps on the outside, it looked as if she was too preoccupied in the materialism. On the inside, however, Narcissa had been too introspective to notice another woman was standing beside her.

The blonde stepped back, eyes finding the brunette only to recognize her to be the head of Gryffindor House. Narcissa couldn’t quite remember a time where the two of them had actually spoken before; they were close in age, but entirely different in interests. However, perhaps their interests weren’t completely different – Narcissa had to admit the boots with the little heel were good.

“Not creepy,” the woman insisted, standing straight as she glanced towards Minerva. “Simply was not expecting someone, that is all.” The blonde paused, unsure as to whether to continue the conversation or bow out. But she supposed, since she couldn’t think of a reason to distance herself from Minerva quite yet, civility would be appropriate. “Do you shop here often?”

Most people, especially in this day and age, were prone to judging people based on their status. It was especially prevalent because the entire rebellion was based on the precepts that some people were better than others. Minerva tried desperately not to judge people based on their house or proximity to others because of this, but sometimes it got harder when the lines were blurred. It was hard to tell who was on which side and who was ready to kill her just as easy as chat with her.

She didn’t feel any malice from Narciss, not that she was adept at feeling malice in general, and therefore saw no reason to dip out of the conversation and make her way back to the school and be done with it. But at the same time, she wasn’t wholly sure just how much she and Narcissa would have in common.

Besides the boots, of course.

“Sometimes. Usually when they get in a new stock of footwear. The dresses are nice but I don’t have much occasion to wear them, to be truthful.” Minerva offered with a cant of her head, glancing back towards the window and closing her eyes for the briefest of moments. One such occasion flashed across her mind’s eye only to be swiftly swept under the rug and forgotten about as her eyes opened again, “Are you interested in the dress? It has lovely stitching.”

That seemed a lame avenue of conversation, at least to keep it going, so Minerva dug deeper and managed, lamely if not confidently, “What brings you here anyway? Day shopping or?”

[auror-scrimgeour-deactivated202]

Crossing | Open

[shesall]

auror-scrimgeour‌:

It felt odd just standing there, letting her do whatever she was doing - was that an actual medical kit? Apparently the woman was prepared for anything. He was slightly worried that someone was going to notice one of them bandaging the other’s hands while talking; but, he also learned right then and there that Muggles didn’t really care what sort of oddities were going right in front of their faces. 

Though he couldn’t completely relax, some tensions eased away. Her touch was gentle as she wrapped the soft bandages around his hands; he wondered if she’d done this before. She brought up his admittedly reckless decision, but he couldn’t help an amused small smile. 

What his mind now focused on was who and why she was following someone too. He wasn’t aware that keeping track of someone was part of a teacher’s job. At her answer to his previous question, he hummed in agreement, though he’d now accepted that he’d have to find another opportunity to tail his target. “I don’t exactly know the extent he’s involved, only that he is. I’m sure I’ll get another chance soon; he wasn’t the hardest person to find to begin with. I doubt he’s about to do anything dangerous, so no, pursuing him isn’t necessary today. I tend to get carried away, or so I’ve been told.” He chuckled a little at his last statement. 

“Thank you, by the way.” He nodded at his hands. Usually, he tended to his own injuries, but he wasn’t complaining. Not one for lingering on thanks, he pushed the conversation back to what she’d been doing. “What about you? You need to get back to keeping an eye on someone? Seeing as I’ve lost my work, I’d be happy to help with yours.” 

She probably didn’t need his help, as she was a skilled witch in her own right and she appeared to be prepared for anything, given the medical kit. However, he thought that it was only fair to offer her assistance when she’d given hers.

Eventually, in all her cleverness, Minerva managed to get her wand wedged against her hand, out of sight but able to move with all her ‘fussing’ over his hands and managed to mutter beneath her breath — ignored by most people because they’d been chatting anyway — and heal his hands up beneath the bandages. It did nothing for the bloodstains on his pants, and it was still hidden away behind the gauze, but it did mean it wouldn’t hurt, bleed anymore, or get infected under there, which was a plus.

Making sure, more for her sake than his, she doted upon his hands for a few moments longer before letting them go and offering him a tight smile; it wasn’t because she wasn’t happy to see him or happy for the help, but more just because that’s generally the kind of smile Minerva gave to everyone — friendly, but not too much so.

“Mine’s less dire. I was keeping an eye on some people that I’m... probably too protective of.” To most, that list would be relatively small, but in her mind, it was too far to scope properly on most days. It didn’t help that most of them were spread out at any given time and all had different jobs and levels of necessary anonymity to her at any given time, “Not so much fugitives or runners as people with things to do that I check in on.”

Was she giving too much away? It was hard to say. There were many people who knew — or at least surmised, as Minerva felt pretty confident her business wasn’t anyone else’s — about her closeness to Moody, but with the rest of them ( the former students and the ones she felt surprisingly too protective of ) she wasn’t quite sure how many of them would put those pieces together. The fewer people who knew was probably better as it meant that people couldn’t use it against either of them.

“I wish I could offer you more help though. I feel a bit lost right now as my job is mostly done and I’m all dressed up as a muggle with no place to go. I could accompany you as camouflage as you try to track him down?” There was almost a lilt of hope in that. Maybe Minerva was looking for trouble.

[shesall]

where: minerva’s room

when: late night

who: minerva and @silenciomary

Minerva, known for her calm and collected demeanor, had been a beacon for most of the people coming in and out of her office after the news had broke. As much as she wanted to get in contact with the one person in her life who could give some true clarity on the situation ( and generally make her feel like things were okay ) she remained in her position and would wait, in fact, for him to contact her.

This meant that she was forced to go through the motions of her day and make sure that the students and faculty alike were doing as they had always done, even if things seemed like they were coming apart at the seams. Her day was long and hard, and yet she still stood with her shoulders square and her head high through it all, and the work got done.

When she was finally able to retire to her own space and relax, she let out a breath of air that felt as if it had been coiled in her stomach like a lump of hot coal the entire day. She let her hair down and moved over to flick her wand at the wrist and ignite a fire in the small fireplace nearby and set a pot of tea on to steep and stared aimlessly out the window. 

Was she waiting for something? An owl, an apparition, some kind of indication that things would be okay? It wasn’t clear, but she nearly jumped when the door of her chambers shifted somewhat and Mary came in through the door — and though she didn’t so much startle, she did seem taken aback — she offered a tight smile, “You know, I should have expected this.” 

The tone wasn’t at all accusatory, and in fact, she seemed relieved. It might not have been Alastor coming through her doorway but the face she saw was still a welcome sight, “Come on in, I’ve got tea on.”

[auror-scrimgeour-deactivated202]

Crossing | Open

[shesall]

auror-scrimgeour‌:

Muggles continued to walk right by him, not paying him any attention. Some had bothered to give him a ‘what the hell’ look, but no one answered his question. Then, someone was asking him a question. Rufus turned to see someone who was most definitely not a Muggle but was dressed like one. An eyebrow raised in confusion and surprise at seeing her there dressed to blend in with the people around them. 

At her request to see his hand, he looked down at them to see smeared blood across his palms. “Goddammit,” he mumbled, realizing that he’d probably gotten blood on his navy slacks. It wasn’t like he could just clean that right away either, since he was in a public space. Now, he’d have to get around Muggle London with smeared blood on him; not subtle at all. 

Without much thinking, he extended his arms so that she could have a look at his hands; he wasn’t sure which one she’d wanted to see. “Someone I was tailing,” Rufus answered distractedly as he continued to look around for any signs of his target. Unfortunately, the man was in the wind now. “Think he was going to meet someone.” He stopped himself from saying anything more and turned his focus to her. His brain was still in pursuit mode, but he knew that he was going to have to accept the fact that he’d lost his man. 

“I don’t suppose you saw a man in a grey sweatshirt and blue cap,” he repeated his question, although this time to her only. He didn’t expect a positive answer, since she probably would have told him if she had, but it was worth an ask.

It then occurred to him that the odds seemed rather slim that they were both there. The young Hogwarts professor no doubt had her own reasons, and it wasn’t his business to know. That didn’t stop him. “Didn’t recognize you at first. Taking in Muggle London as the locals do?”

Sometimes — just sometimes — when she was dealing with an Auror other than Moody, she realized just how alike they all were. They got so caught up in their missions sometimes that they took in very little outside of the important details. She hadn’t been in his purview because of his focus on catching up with his target, and so her being there at all had to have been kind of a shock, especially dressed as she was.

Minerva took both his hands in hers, turning them over and keeping an eye on the passers-by, and though she wanted to heal them she knew that was too far of a breach to do right in front of an Auror who would be obligated to tell people. Bit of a paradox, that. So instead she pulled out a small first aid kit — it might or might not have been there the entire time, hard to say — and wrapped his hands in some gauze, lifting her shoulders in a shrug as she spoke, “I was keeping an eye on someone, same as you. Just less harried about it.”

At his question, she darted her eyes up to his face and offered a half-smile, shaking her head minutely, “I mean probably have seen people fitting that description, but not in the last five minutes or so. If he was smart he ducked into the crowds then slipped into the underground; I’d say check there but it’s a busy part of the day so I’d say he’s lost. Was he...”

She paused, wondering if she should ask, but then giving way to her curiosity before too long, “Was he someone important? Should I let you get back to it for fear of what might happen if you do not?”

If anyone understood the importance of an Auror’s work as much as an Auror, it would be Minerva. Her entire life had been entangled with them in one way or another, and she had a keen knowledge of what sacrifice was and what they would do to finish their job. She didn’t want to hold anyone back from that.

[auror-scrimgeour-deactivated202]

Crossing | Open

Tailing people was about as much fun as it sounded - it wasn’t. And yet, it had its uses. After all, how was he supposed to know where his potential suspect went? He wasn’t going to get an answer directly, that was for sure. 

Rufus kept a safe distance away to make sure that his target remained oblivious. Why did his target decide to go into Muggle London and make it more difficult? He could only guess, but he hoped the destination would be close by. Where the hell are you going? His target ran across the street, dodging cars with a shit ton of luck to make it to the other side. This left Rufus stuck on the other side of the street. “Fuck.” His target was getting further by the second, and the walking light told him not to cross. Sod it. 

Stepping off the curb, he looked and tried to gauge how fast the cars were going. One whizzed right by him. Taking a deep breath, he ran across the first lane. He was getting honked at now, but he wasn’t going to turn back. Second lane. Third. Now to the last one. A car was quickly approaching and showed no signs of slowing down, so Rufus did the only thing he could: hurl himself forward and hope he could jump far enough. His landing was anything but graceful, barely catching himself with his hands, but as far as he could tell, he wasn’t dead. The palm of his hands stung from all the little tears caused by the sidewalk pavement, but that was about it. 

Rufus quickly got to his feet and brushed the palms of his hands on the side of his pants. Looking around, he hoped to see where his target had gone. “Anyone see a man wearing a grey sweatshirt and blue cap?”

[shesall]

Though Minerva didn’t always have reason to travel into Muggle London on the whole, she did very much blend in when she wanted to. Especially with how things had been recently she’d taken to making sure she dressed the part — her love for the muggle fashion of the time helped immensely, but she still mixed it with pieces from her own wizarding wardrobe without being outwardly and blatantly over the top — today wearing a pair of slacks and a button-up pale blue shirt and her favorite pair of boots she’d bought from Diagon Alley three years ago; she loved boots so much.

Today's outing had been to keep an eye on some of her former students — she was always worried about them and if they knew just how often she tailed them, as a cat or otherwise, she’d probably get some guff from someone or another — and she was more surprised to see Rufus than he was likely to be surprised at seeing her.

Her eyes darted to his scuffed hand and the trail of blood he left on his pants, before murmuring softly so that passers-by wouldn’t hear, “Who are you after and why  here?”

It was none of her business, but Rufus sort of had that look about him — she’d be hard-pressed to get the answer out of him, but it didn’t mean she wouldn’t try, “Also let me look at your hand, no one will think twice of it and it gives you a chance to gain your bearings; hunting in a panic won’t do.”

She seemed far too familiar with this song and dance, and it likely had everything to do with her attachment to Alastor and his adjacent position to Rufus himself. Alastor wasn’t one to tell her everything, especially about Auror business because it wasn’t just her life on the line, but it was easy to see that Rufus was in pursuit and she... wanted to help as much as possible.

[toujourscissa-deactivated202004]

OPEN STARTER

It was rather relaxing, Narcissa had to be admit. Some time had passed from the last time she had allowed herself to take a stroll down Diagon Alley. Commitments here and there had largely kept her busy, flitting from manor to manor or gala to gala. There were times where her mother wanted her close at hand, days where Narcissa was largely confined to her garden or her piano. But not that day. That day, she had taken to walking down the cobblestone streets, quietly enjoying her own company and allowing herself to drink in the displays in the window before the Alley became all the more busy for the afternoon. 

There was a particular window that had caught her attention, a beautiful soft pink dress in the windows of Madam Malkin’s Robes. Instead of her gaze set on the dress, however, Narcissa’s eyes turned towards the portrait by its foot, watching as a socialite of beauty and grace twirled around in the dress in question. For some reason it had struck her, a small frown crossing Narcissa’s features despite the smiling woman in the portrait. It was certainly what everyone expected of her – to simply be the smiling, beautiful woman, donning the lavish dresses and attending the lavish parties. No one understood her true motivations behind it all – not her sisters, not her mother, perhaps not even fully Narcissa herself. She couldn’t help but wonder if the same cold, calculations were running through the mind of the woman as she watched her twirl with elegance.

It was only when, after a solid minute, she realized there was another standing beside her and Narcissa nearly jumped, pulling back from the window and standing straight as an arrow. “Oh, forgive me,” she said rather quickly, brushing away a blonde strand from her face with a fleeting glance towards the individual in question. “I didn’t know you were there.”

[shesall]

The idea of Minerva dawdling and looking at such finery as there was in the window that Narcissa had been entranced by would make most who knew her laugh loudly at the prospect. She wasn’t really known for her attachment to things as such, and though she could likely very much afford them — she was shrewd, clever, and capable of amassing a fortune quite well without a husband, thank you very much — she just had never shown any vested interest in dressing for high society.

Her attitude was, in essence, the only thing she wore that was of that nature in all her times moving through wizarding society. Minerva could enter a room in her robes with her head held high, her shoulders back, and her back straight with brusque confidence that made even the strongest of men bristle... and often did. 

But sometimes, in the smaller portions of her mind, in the backs where things like fantasy and curiosity are let loose, she thought of how she might look in something so pretty. It wasn’t the reason she was standing there then, no... the dresses hadn’t enticed her near so much as the shoes that had been tucked in hidden alcoves around the dress itself — some fancy and some more utilitarian — that had Minerva’s interest so piqued.

At the sound of Narcissa’s voice (and perhaps a bit at the thought that someone might think she was looking at dresses) she immediately offered, “Those boots are so good. That little heel especially...” 

Minerva so loved a heel.

Her attention finally drew to the blond and she offered what passed for a smile — this was not because of Narcissa herself or anything of the sort, just Minerva often found almost everyone her smiles often resembled that of an annoyed cat — and dipped her head, “Sorry, I probably should have made myself known before sidling up beside. Feels a bit creepy in retrospect.”

Narcissa was of the Black family, and anyone who was anyone knew that family and what they stood for, but for the sake of not stirring the pot or poking the bear, a request from a dear friend to behave herself, she decided to be kind and diplomatic. 

Besides, there was no evidence than Narcissa was anywhere near like her sister, who was notoriously vocal about what exactly she felt about wizarding society.