End of Year
by Bil!

K – MM, AD – General – Complete

Summary: Minerva's contribution to guarding the Philosopher's Stone wasn't the chess set, but she felt it was sweet of the students to think so. Set at the end of PS.

Disclaimer: Not mine. But I guess you probably already figured that out, huh?

A/N: Written pre-DH. I have no idea where I got the idea that Quirinus was Quirrell's first name, but that's what I use.

The last of the students piled into the thestral-drawn carriages and Minerva heaved a sigh that was part relief and part regret and turned away. Silence enveloped the entrance hall and she slowly made her way to the main staircase, thinking about the year that had been. Her heart ached for Harry and all he had been through in the year, though she was pleased that he seemed to be bouncing back and she hoped that the summer holidays would give him a chance to recuperate properly.

Several other students with troubles of their own, if less exotic than Harry's, also passed through her mind and she made mental notes for next year. Sometimes, she felt like mother to hundreds of children. And then of course there were the seventh years who would return no more, many of whom she would miss dearly even as she wished them every success in their futures.

"Ah, alone at last, Professor McGonagall."

A smile springing involuntarily to her lips, she turned to Albus as he came out of the Great Hall. "As alone as one – or two – may be in a castle filled with teachers, ghosts, and house elves." Peeves went whizzing over their heads, chanting something that was mercifully indistinct. "And one poltergeist," she added ruefully.

Albus chuckled, a deep warm sound that had been a little less present this year. You Know Who had a lot to answer for, even as a spirit. "One is quite enough," he agreed, offering her his arm. She took it and they strolled up the staircase. "So, what did you think of this year?" he asked.

"I thought it was more eventful than was warranted," she said acerbically, and he chuckled again, tucking her arm more firmly in his.

"I fear that having Mr Potter at our school is going to make the next several years more eventful than is warranted." Her amusement was muted by worry and he noticed immediately. "Never fear, my dear. With not only myself and Severus but you as well to watch over him, even Mr Potter will find it difficult to find himself in any real danger."

"Severus," she huffed, still irritated at the man for his anger over losing the house cup – or rather his way of showing that anger.

"He has already saved Harry's life once this year," Albus reminded her gently, and she sighed.

"You're right, of course, Albus."

"Aren't I always?" he teased, eliciting a smile from her and a fond head shake as they turned down the Charms corridor.

"I wish you hadn't been about You Know Who," she said suddenly and sadly.

"I know who? No, Minerva, I'm afraid I don't."

She shot him an exasperated look. "All right, Voldemort, then. You're absolutely sure it was him?"

"No matter how many times you ask me, my answer will still be the same."

"And Potter—" She stopped and turned to him. "Albus, he will go after Potter, won't he? Especially after this year."

There was no twinkle in Albus's eyes. "Of that I have no doubt."

Her hands clenched. Harry, so brave and young, who had already lost so much... Harry, facing Voldemort.

Albus pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her. "We will help him, Minerva. What ever may come, he won't face it alone."

"He's just a boy!" she said plaintively into his shoulder.

"He has faced Voldemort twice and won. We will find a way, Minerva. Trust me."

"I do." She pulled away from him. "I do; you know I do." She busied herself with straightening her robes, regretting the momentary weakness. "I'm sorry for—"

"No," he said sternly. "Never apologise for caring. Your heart, Minerva, is your most wonderful attribute." She flushed and looked down. "Shall we continue?"

She took his arm again and they wandered the corridors of their castle with no particular destination in mind, reminiscing and laughing as they talked about the past year.

"Albus," she said as they finally turned towards the entrance to his office. "I've been meaning to ask you: The Philosopher's Stone wasn't really there, was it?"

"Wasn't where?" he asked innocently.

"Behind our protections. That was a ruse, so that You Know – Voldemort," she corrected at his look, "wouldn't think to look in the true hiding place. If the goblins couldn't protect it, what could we possibly do?"

"You never cease to astound me," he smiled.

"But then—Harry nearly died for nothing?"

"No," he said firmly. "Not nothing. Voldemort was in the heart of Hogwarts, regaining his strength – and Harry forced him out and weakened him. That was not nothing, that was a very large gain for our side. I would not have chosen to involve him, but he was persistent and so I did my best to aid him – and he accomplished something that I could not have done."

"Of course you could," she said in surprise, stopping in her tracks to stare at him.

"No. I could have imprisoned Quirinus – and Voldemort would have found himself another host. I could perhaps have killed Quirinus instead, but with the same result. I could have driven the spirit out of Quirinus's body – but still all Voldemort would have had to do would be to find the nearest compatible host. He gained much strength from his possession of Quirinus. Yet Harry, with his mother's protection and his own innocence, not only freed Quirinus, but weakened Voldemort. Had I acted, Voldemort would still be in England, still growing stronger. But Harry has given him a great setback from which it will take him time to recover. And time, Minerva, is on our side, not his."

"But why should Potter be able to—"

"Voldemort was drinking unicorn blood..." He looked at her expectantly and at another time she might have smiled at the reminder that he had once been a renowned teacher himself.

"So he slew something pure," she prompted impatiently.

"Harry has a marvellous protection in his mother's love. That is something very pure. He has an even greater protection in his own heart. He has seen evil, Minerva, yet there is an innocence in him that is untouched. Voldemort, having already cursed himself by the slaying of such a pure creature as a unicorn, could not stand the purity of Harry or his mother's love. It broke him. And that is what Harry accomplished. Not the defence of a stone, but the weakening of evil."

Minerva looked at him for a minute, then shook her head with a sigh and continued walking. "How is it you always manage to make the most incredible things seem perfectly reasonable?"

"A natural gift," he said modestly, making her smile weakly. "Enough of heavy topics. Come, let us celebrate the end of another fine year and send our best wishes after those who have left us for the final time and go now to make their mark on the world." He waved at the gargoyle and it leapt obediently aside to allow them to climb the stairs to his office.

Fawkes blinked at them sleepily as they took seats, then put his head back under his wing. Albus poured them each a glass of wine and they made a solemn toast, then sat quietly for a time in comfortable companionship.

"Mr Weasley really did very well in his game of chess, didn't he?" Albus said, gazing thoughtfully at his own chess set which was set up on a side table, still in the middle of their latest game.

"He did," Minerva agreed. "Filius was most disappointed in himself. Of course, it is quite difficult to instil a thorough ability at chess into inanimate objects."

"He would have been even more disappointed had he heard Mr McMillan earlier today, congratulating the youngest Mr Weasley on getting past 'McGonagall's giant chess set'."

Minerva laughed. "Oh, no, he knows what the students think and it amuses him as much as it amuses me. Perhaps we need to do a refresher course next year on precisely what constitutes a charm as opposed to a transfiguration."

"Or perhaps they simply need to pay a little more attention to their teachers and realise that Filius is not only a champion dueller but also a chess master, while you are—"

"Careful..."

"I wasn't going to say obsessed," he lied transparently, his eyes sparkling merrily. "While you are very fond of Quidditch."

"Well, I think it sweet that they think me so intellectual that out of the options available I would of course be the one using a chess set."

"You certainly weren't when you were their age," Albus said with amusement.

"Ugh! At that age I wasn't the least bit academic and I despised chess! I had every intention of becoming a star Quidditch player and not even my brother's derision could convince me otherwise."

He smiled at her. "I'm glad you didn't become one. I should have sorely missed your presence."

She scoffed lightly, relaxing back in her chair and sipping at her drink. "You would barely notice if I disappeared."

He leant forward. "Minerva, if you disappeared then I would tear the whole world apart to find you."

"Oh!" She bit her lip, not sure how to deal with the sincerity in his eyes. "Thank you, Albus." She put down her glass and reached out to cover his hand with hers. "That means... everything."

He patted her hand and leant back in his chair again. "You aren't going to reciprocate?" he teased.

"Oh, well, I suppose that after a few weeks I might miss the smell of sherbet lemons. Or the bad jokes." She straightened suddenly. "Wait, if you left then I should have to be Headmistress! Albus Dumbledore, don't you dare go anywhere!"

He laughed, a full, rich laugh that she hadn't heard in months, until the tears were streaming down his face. "Minerva..." he choked, then regained control of himself. "Minerva, never change."

She sighed happily, content to be exactly where she was. "Only if you promise never to go anywhere. I would miss you, Albus, so terribly."

"I promise you, Minerva, I'm not going anywhere."

She smiled into his warm eyes. "Good. So, shall we see who is going to win this latest chess match?"

"I should be delighted, my dear Professor. My pieces are eagerly awaiting your downfall."

"My downfall? My dear Headmaster, your pieces are living on borrowed time and should not give in to such false hopes!"

Out in the world there were troubles and difficulties to come, enemies to face, and an uncertain future. But for a few short hours in Albus's office, the world consisted of two old friends and a moment of perfect happiness.

Fin

A/N: I vaguely remember someone saying that they thought Flitwick's keys and McGonagall's chess set seemed like they utilised the wrong disciplines; the keys seemed like a Transfiguration (keys being changed to have wings) and the chess set like a Charm (enlarged and given motion). Re-reading PS in preparation for DH, I realised that only students (Hermione and Percy) mentioned the chess set as being McGonagall's. So technically we don't know it was hers. Which is a long and complicated explanation as to how this story began. And got out of control, as usual.