Author's Note: We will be getting into more of the battle sequences soon, and I can't wait to write those, but they may take a while to get through since I want to do the story justice. Hope you are all still liking the course of the story and how it is woven into the LotR plot. Enjoy :)

Disclaimer: Still don't own anything

Content Warning: There will be mentions of war and torture in this chapter in regards to the wizarding war and there will be a description of a gruesome death scene. When the text become italicized, that will be your cue to skip that section if you do not want to read it.

Chapter 13

To say that the Fellowship was disappointed with the outcome of the situation would be an understatement. While they all thought the king would take their words to heart, he chose to have his people retreat to Helm's Deep. The men had gone off to discuss the ramifications of the king's decision, but Minerva wanted a chance to get away. All around her, people were packing up their meager belongings and assuring their young that everything would be just fine.

War was always the same. It may have a different enemy or motive, but the effects were always the same. The people that were fighting the war were not just the ones with weapons. The families and people that were left behind, with their lives constantly being upended, were the ones that suffered silently. Just like Middle Earth, the wizarding world had been forced into retreating, whether that be into hiding or constantly moving just out of reach. Parents of students would often have to send updates about their new living situation when Voldemort's reign reached its peak.

A large portion of the wizarding population lived in London at the time, and one could tell which families were magical by who moved quickly or outright abandoned their homes without a trace. Flats left vacant without a second's notice, neighbors never to be heard from again, children wondering where their friends had gone. All signs that war had hit them and they were no longer safe.

A child crying in front of her stopped her in her tracks. Flashes of crying children assaulted her. She could hear their cries as she pictured them huddled in a corner, comforting each other after they witnessed the death of their parents through a slit in a floorboard they had hidden beneath. Suddenly she couldn't escape the scene around her.

It was the first time since Albus had asked her to help with the Order that she was called to a scene of an attack. He had warned her that the scene was gruesome, but there were some things you could not prepare for, and the scene in front of her was one. As she approached the house on a quiet London street, she looked around her quickly to ensure she wasn't being watched before she crossed the wards.

As she breached the muggle repelling magic, she was instantly hit with an unmistakable smell. Burning flesh. She had encountered it before while working as an auror. Lack of caution when working with a fiendfyre, an unfortunate run in with a dragon, potion burns, and sparring accidents were some of the more common reasons for the smell, but as the war dragged on, it became more of a deliberate act than an accident. It was never a smell one would get used to, and knowing what little she did about what had happened here, Minerva was afraid she would never forget what she was about to see or the smell that was now deep in her lungs.

The charms set up by the Order were keeping everything from the scene in, and as she walked towards the front door that was blasted into splinters, she was shocked by the contrast. Outside, muggles slept peacefully in their beds, letting the night carry them into tomorrow. Inside their bubble of horror, the modest London flat looked like a war zone. Nothing was left untouched. Scorch marks were licking the door trim and as she crossed the threshold, she saw the rest of the carnage.

Pictures were incinerated, every piece of furniture leading towards the living room was demolished, as if the people responsible wanted the Order to know that they took their time getting to the victims. As Minerva approached the living room, she noticed several indicators that children lived in this house, and suddenly her blood ran cold. Albus had not told her anything about children being found in the house. Could they have taken the children as hostages? She did not want to think about that thought for too long, but it would have to be brought up sooner or later.

"Minerva," she heard her name being called from the doorway and looked up to she the slightly greying, auburn haired man that was now her boss and best friend.

"Albus," she pointed to the hastily hidden rattle under a closed door, "there were children here as well."

Instead of speaking, he nodded solemnly and gestured for her to follow him to the source of the smell. As she crossed into the room, she couldn't help but gag as the smell and scene compounded into an absolutely repulsive spectacle. On the ground in front of her, there were two bodies, heavily burned and mangled to the point that they would hardly be recognized as humans. The larger frame, presumably the husband, was twisted in on himself, and even with the significant damage from the burns, she could tell exactly what had happened to cruciatus curse.

The wife seems to have been tied up and forced to watch based on her position across the room. Her body wasn't as twisted, so Minerva guessed other forms of torture were employed to kill the wife. Taking a closer look at the bodies, it also appeared that there were several deep cuts caused by a knife of some sort. Minerva had seen these types of wounds when associated with a poison that will not allow the wounds to heal and the victim would bleed to death. The lack of blood around the wife made her realize that both of these people may have been burned alive.

"Do we know who they were?" Minerva asked as she looked around the room for more insight into what happened.

"They were the Willshires," Albus said, watching his friend carefully as she analyzed the scene, hoping he wasn't pushing her too far, "They both worked for the ministry and Aurora was very vocal about muggle born rights. Her husband, Mathew, was working had to reform some of the ministry policies regarding magical creatures."

Minerva looked up from her crouched position, "And that made them targets for Tom," she whispered under her breath. If only I had stopped him when I had the chance.

"You saw the baby rattle?" Albus asked as he nodded his head towards the door in the hallway hiding the little toy.

"I did," she answered, still crouched, "We need to find that child."

"Minerva, the chances that they are still alive-"

"Don't!" She yelled at him, and she was going to say something else, but the hitching of someone's breath made her freeze.

"What is it?" Albus saw her reaction and stopped dead in his tracks.

Instead of answering, Minerva instantly dropped to her knees and started searching for a loose floorboard or a hatch to conceal a child. Almost instantly her fingers found a lip in the floor, almost like a handle, and she cautiously pulled upwards. As she pulled, a small section of the floor lifted up to reveal a hiding spot, just big enough for a grown adult…or in this case, two young children. They were huddled together, the older of the two trying desperately to keep the toddler in her arms from crying out.

"It's alright," Minerva called to them, "we are not going to hurt you."

Once she was able to coax them out of their hiding spot, Minerva and Albus looked them over to ensure they were alright. The toddler seemed endlessly fascinated by his long beard and was soon giggling shyly as he produced some magical dancing lights to entertain him. The little girl on the other hand, who couldn't have been much older than 7 stayed silent as she looked down at the ground. Minerva was about to try to talk to her, when Moody walked in.

"They were definitely alive when it happened," Mad-Eye grunted as his walking stick hit the floor loudly, "Probably tortured for fun-"

"Alastor!" Minerva chastised him for talking about it in front of the children.

"They wanted my parents to pay for their sins against the pure bloods," the voice was hollow and dark, and it was also coming from the previously silent 7 year old, "The rug in the living room doesn't cover the hole in the floorboards completely and it was hard to ignore the screaming."

Minerva would remember that comment for the rest of her life as the young girl continued to recount every gruesome detail of her parents' deaths. Not even the children were innocent in a war.

Minerva was brought out of her thoughts by someone grabbing her arm. She turned on her heels and threw a punch at the assailant. Her fist made contact with the side of his face before she realized who it was.

"Aragorn! I am so sorry!" She pressed her hand to her mouth as she reached out to assess the damage, "You startled me."

Shaking off the shock from the hit, Aragorn smiled at her, "And here I thought Legolas was the one not to sneak up on."

"I was a thousand miles away," she said as he waved off her concern, "I really do apologize."

"It's alright. At least I know you can fight too," he laughed but when he noticed she didn't join in on the laughter, he paused.

Looking at her, he could see that she was paler than usual, and her lips were drawn together in a tight line, as if stopping any sound from escaping. Her eyes were also slightly red and it seemed as though she couldn't stand to look him in the eye.

"Have I done something to offend you?" He asked, knowing the answer was no, but wanting to open the conversation without too much prying.

"What?" She turned to look at him, but still only met his eyes for a second, "Of course not."

That's when he noticed that some of her fight had left her too. He remembered catching the tail end of her story to Gandalf, about how she had know the dark wizard in her world. They had all wanted to ask her about it, but Gandalf had mentioned something about not bringing up the past of someone that is not ready to face it themselves. Of course, they were still curious, but the look he had given them all when Gimli interjected with 'what ifs' made them swear off all mention of this world called Britain.

"I must truly be repulsive to look at then," he joked and waited for her hurried response only to stop her with a smile, "I just mean that you do not seem to want to look at me for hardly longer than necessary. I think Gimli even looks at Legolas more often than you are looking at me right now, and he hates elves."

"I promise that is not it," she offered without much life behind her voice, "I was just reminded of the cost of war."

"It's not a price that everyone is ready to pay, but they must pay it all the same," Aragorn said as they started walking in search of the rest of their group, "Gandalf wants to say goodbye before he leaves…we should probably pick up the pace."

Aragorn led the way as the two of them weaved through the people preparing to disembark. As they approached the stables, Minerva was jostled by a family as they tried to hurry towards the gates of the town, and suddenly she was overwhelmed with sensations. She was out in the open, but suddenly every sound was amplified and she could feel everyone closing in on her. The members of the Fellowship were talking around her, but all she heard was a a ringing in her ears as the world started to spin.

She tried to focus in on something. She needed something to help her count her breaths, slow her heart rate, but everywhere she looked made it worse. Keeping her head high and her back straight, she decided to recite the steps in becoming an animagus in her head.

Imagine transfiguring a human into an animal as a third person…

She looked around the group and tried to add a nod or ad lib here or there as to not draw attention to her predicament.

2. Focus on the amount of energy flowing within you…

Gandalf made a mention of leaving, and looked at her as if to say he was sorry. She attempted to add some sympathy to her facial expression, but judging by the look on his face it wasn't working…and neither were these steps.

3. Visualize a specific body part morphing into that of an animal…

She looked at Aragorn as he started to talk about the plan, and while she knew it was important to listen, it was as if she had lost the capacity to understand the English language.

4. Visualize your body shrinking or growing as a whole as you take your animagus form…

Gandalf was now focused completely on her, but she could not tell if he was speaking to her directly or not.

5. Clear your mind and trust your magic…

"Would you mind indulging an old wizard and allowing me a moment alone with Minerva?" He asked of the group without looking away from her.

They all seemed to understand and soon walked away to finish packing up their meager belongings. Minerva was stock still and while she was aware he was approaching her, she was frozen. If she could speak right now, she would tell him not to come any closer. While she may have a handle on the the panic attack for now, she knew the moment he touched her it would be different. There was something about the outside world meeting the overload of emotions and sensations going on in her mind that caused her to lash out.

As he was about to touch her arm, he stopped and looked into her eyes. He took in her pale complexion and the way her fists were balled so tightly her fingernails were bound to draw blood, and he knew what was happening. While he had not experienced one before, he knew what living nightmares could do to a person. A person's demons had the power to incapacitate someone to the point that they were sometimes violent, but always fragile. He had to handle this carefully.

"Minerva," he called softly, "I need you to look at me."

She was reluctant. Albus was the only other person she ever let see her fall apart. Her first instance with panic attacks came right after the first war with Voldemort. She had seem some of the most gruesome scenes and always kept her emotions in check, but she soon realized that it was getting to her. She would freeze in the middle of the hallway when someone would scream too loudly, or if a student came around the corner without her hearing them approach.

He had found a way to help her work through it, and he had even bought her her first pensieve. She would review the memories that made her slip into an attack followed by memories that made her happy. If she had a particularly hard time moving past an experience, he would sit with her and have her focus solely on him. While their friendship do not progress much further than a deep love for each other in a platonic sense on his side, Minerva had struggled for some time to accept that fact. Especially once it became clear that he seemed to be the one person she could count on no matter what.

As she finally began to trust the man currently in front of her, she felt some of her senses start to go back to normal. She could hear just his voice as he spoke her name. There were no flashbacks or overwhelming urges to run associated with hearing his voice. Her eyes finally met his and the warmth she saw reflected in them made her want to just melt into his embrace…but she was still on a ledge.

"I want you to focus on me, okay?" He coaxed her as he slowly brought his hands up in front of him, "I know that you are experiencing what we call a living nightmare. I need you to trust me."

Minerva continued to look him in the eye, desperately begging her body and mind to relax. She trusted Gandalf, but at this point in time, she started to wonder why. While there were moments that the two of them shared that made her trust him, she realized that she had never fallen this quickly. Years of having her walls up and practicing constant vigilance had made her slow to trust, but something had changed. Maybe it was the fact that just moments before she had met him, she had reached a far darken place in her mind than she had ever experienced before. Whatever it was, she could not find it in herself to fully surrender yet.

"I am going to take your hand and place it on my chest," Gandalf said, as he did just that.

Minerva couldn't help the instinct driven reaction to pull away as he took her hand, and while he didn't let go, he did pause to give her a moment to adjust. He began to guide her hand up to his chest, but she felt herself pull back and try to break free from his grasp. He held tight though, and soon had her hand laying over his heart. He could feel her pulse racing as he rested his hand over hers.

"I know you are overwhelmed right now, Minerva," he spoke softly, "But I need you to try to focus on me. Feel my lungs fill with air…I want you to breathe with me."

Gandalf watched as she struggled to match his breathing, but she was trying to at least, and that was a good sign. He exaggerated his breathing to help her follow along and after a couple of minutes she started to improve. Her heart was still racing, but it was slowly returning to normal.

"Good," he said in a voice barely above a whisper, "Now I want you to think about a calmer time. Focus on the little details, my dear. Remember what the air around you smelt like. What was the weather like? What was around you?"

Minerva was finally able to think for herself without the panic taking a hold of her. She thought back to times with Albus, just sitting in his office playing chess and drinking tea. How he would try his hardest to win, but would almost always lose unless he found a way to distract her. She thought about the beginning of the school year and how Albus would always check in on her the night before the students arrived because he knew she would be quadruple checking everything. Soon, her mind started shifting to other memories.

She thought back to the first time she had met Gandalf. He was wearing his grey robes and had grabbed her around the waist forcefully, but not with the intent to hurt her. She remembers how shocked she was to see a man that looked just like Albus, and at how quickly he trusted her. She had been relatively quiet as he explained everything to her, Sam, and Frodo, only answering questions when she was asked. She started to focus on the memory of their conversation that night.

Gandalf sat across from her and watched her as Sam and Frodo laughed and found the humor in their upcoming journey. She felt a bit uneasy as he continued to watch her, but she didn't quite know what to say. There were so many questions she wished to ask, but she was anxious to ask them. While he resembled Albus a great deal, he was still a stranger to her.

"You must have questions," he finally spoke up, "As I know I do."

She nodded slightly and waited for him to begin. She wanted some kind of indication or social cue as to where this conversation was headed.

"Can you describe to me how you came to be in pantry?" He asked.

"I don't think it is something I can easily explain," she started as she looked around her, "You would need a significant amount of background information."

"Well," he leaned back into the barley large enough chair and took out his pipe, "We have a fire and time. Stories also happen to be a pastime of mine."

"I guess I should start by saying that I work in a school that is located in a castle. It is a school for magic and I teach a subject called transfiguration-"

"What is that?" He asked with only genuine curiosity in his voice.

"It is the art of transforming one object into another, whether it be inanimate or animate. For example," she looked around for something small to demonstrate on, and smirked when she found a matchstick, "With a simple incantation, I can turn this matchstick into a needle."

She gracefully flicked her wrist in the motion she had practiced with her first years for the past several decades and passed the newly formed needle over to Gandalf. He smiled at the small metal object and gleefully looked at her as if he had never seen something like that before.

"That was truly fascinating to watch, my dear," he handed it back to her, "In this realm, we can do such magic as well, but it is mostly focused on morphing animals into other creatures. I have never seen it done on something so small or with a staff the size of a branch."

"Well, I am not used to seeing staffs used either. Wands are more common, but there are a couple of wizards that I know who use staffs to channel their magic," she laughed slightly at his comparison of her wand to a branch.

"I did not mean to interrupt your story," he leaned forward in the chair to rest his elbows on his knees, "Please continue."

"As I tell my students, if you have a question or something to say, please wait until I am finished speaking," she couldn't help the laughter that bubbled up as he nodded eagerly and motioned for her to continue.

"I teach transfiguration and I am the head of house for Gryffindor," seeing the confused look cross his face, she decided to add some more detail, "At Hogwarts, the school I teach at, there are four different houses that the students can be sorted into, which were created by the four founders of the school. Each house is also know for specific characteristics, and often times the defining characteristic of a person will determine which house they are put into.

"Ravenclaw is know for its intellect, and most students placed in this house are very studious. Hufflepuff is know for its kindness and overall acceptance of people and creatures alike. Several Hufflepuffs that have graduated from our school have gone on to advocate for the rights of many different creatures. Slytherin is known for its cunning and often times goal oriented students, which have not been the most desirable characteristics recently, but there were a select few people that have brought redemption back into the name. Finally, there is Gryffindor, which is the house that I both lead and was sorted into when I attended the school several decades ago," she paused briefly at his snort of laughter at the mention of several decades, but decided to chastise him later, "And my house is know for its bravery and loyalty."

"I do hate to call you a liar after just meeting you, my dear, but there is no way that a significant passage of time has occurred since you attended the school. I do believe you to be exaggerating. Also, how is one 'sorted' into these houses as you so put it?" Gandalf asked.

"I do believe I told you not to interrupt me Mr. Gandalf."

"You will have to forgive an old man such as myself," he said while gesturing towards his staff, as if to solidify his age in her mind, "I fear I would have forgotten my questions by the end of your enchanting tale and would have been endlessly remorseful for making you repeat parts of your story in the future."

"You certainly have the cheek worthy of some of my former students," she thought about Sirius, Fred, and George, "And I am certainly old enough to have taught several generations of witches and wizards. As for the sorting, we have an enchanted hat that communicates with its wearer to determine which house best suits the individual. Do those answers satisfy your curiosity enough so that I may proceed?"

"Not completely," he said with more cheek in his tone, "but I suppose it will suffice. However, it is simply Gandalf. No titles are needed from you, Lady McGonagall."

"Alright then…and you may call me Minerva until you give me a reason otherwise" she took a deep breath and began again, trying desperately not to smile at the look of mirth in his eyes, "As I was saying, there are four houses that each of the students are sorted into and they all take classes designed to teach them about the wizarding world and how to use their magic. The castle and its surrounding lands are also used to teach them about magic and of course it's also a way to impress the younger students when they first arrive."

"The castle has moving staircases, animated portraits, magical creatures, secret passages, and some enchanted doorways. One of which is deemed the Room of Requirement. It was something that the founders created in the castle to help those in need. If they needed a place to sleep, or to hide, the room would appear with everything they desired. The room would only appear to those that truly needed it, and not those that only wished to find it. I believe it was that room that brought me here."

She saw his look of confusion and curiosity, but held up a hand to stop him from interjecting.

"In my world, like yours, there have been a couple of dark wizards that have wanted to control the wizarding world and have people believe that things are better their way. They used any means necessary to convince the world that they were the correct choice…which often meant that killing and torturing those that resisted followed soon after. The most recent dark wizard was one that made his appearance twice within our world. Both times, he killed and tortured more people than I can even begin to describe to you."

"I was a part of a group of people that worked in secret to try to undermine him and save those that opposed him. We were often at the scene of many of his victim's resting places, and after a while, I started to recognize the faces. First it was friends, then family as he started to identify those that posed a serious threat to him, but then I was looking down at the bodies of parents of students, former students, and current students. People that I knew and had failed to protect were dying everywhere I looked at the hands of Voldemort. We were able to finally defeat him last year, but it came at a great cost."

"The school was the scene of the battle, and was in ruins for the better part of 6 months while we tried to rebuild. No-one I knew was free from mourning, and the wizarding world has just now recently gone back to a somewhat normal pre-war version. To be perfectly honest, I was in a dark place when I stumbled upon that door. I was thinking about all of the people I had lost and how alone and tired I felt. I had often wondered why I was allowed to survive while everyone else perished. I walked by the door as I was thinking about all of this and the next thing I know…I am being pulled from the pantry rather unceremoniously."

They both laughed at the last bit, realizing that it was quite ridiculous.

"That explains why I suddenly felt something magical appear," Gandalf said while putting out his pipe, "Your entrance had me quite puzzled, and I do apologize for pulling you roughly from the cupboard."

"I would have had you at wand point had the roles been reversed," she mentioned, letting him know it was nothing to worry about.

"I must express my sorrow at your loss," he was serious again, but she could tell that it was genuine and not forced, "I unfortunately share the same burdens of war as you."

Minerva finally focused on his eyes and realized that the panic was gone. Thinking about their conversation and how they had confided in each other about war and their past, although not in depth, it was enough to make her trust him…and now she realized that her trust in him was instinctual. She could question it all she wanted, but she knew she would alway trust him. She realized that she found her center again, Gandalf was her strength, just she was his, and se would come to need that more than ever as this war progressed.

"Are you alright, Minerva?" The man of her thoughts asked, still holding her hand over his heart in his.

"I am," she said, slowly trusting herself to approach him, "I just needed something to ground me, and you were exactly that."

"I am happy to help," he stayed still, letting her approach him at her own pace, wanting so badly to embrace her but not wanting to jeopardize her state of mind.

"Thank you," she finally reached him and embraced him.

Wrapping her arms around his waist, she tried to pull him as close as she could. She did not want to know where she ended and he began. She just wanted to be held by him and reminded that she was alive with something to live for.

"I wish I could offer you more," he placed a kiss on her forehead and held her as she desperately clung to him.

"Just hold me for a moment," she begged.

"I will hold you for as long as I can, but I do have to go, Minerva."

"I know," she looked up at him and kissed him without hesitating.

She tried to communicate in a single kiss how much she trusted him, how grateful she was to have him in her life, and how much she loved him. While the kiss was almost desperate, Gandalf could still feel the passion behind it and tried to return as much love as he could in the embrace. If his hunch was correct, she would be tested more that she could possibly imagine as the Fellowship accompanied the town to Helm's Deep. As they broke apart, he saw tears streaming down her face.

"I want you to know that I will always be here for you," he stroked the tears away from her face, "These next few days are going to be challenging for you, and therefore for me as well, but I know that you will conquer this. All you need to do is think of me, think of all of our stolen moments of time. I want you to know that I will not let you slip from my mind as our paths diverge. You are strong, Minerva, and I want you to know that. Whenever you feel yourself slipping, think of our times around the fire and in Rivendale."

"If you do not come back, I will drag your arse out of hell myself," she said with a watery smile, "And I have become fond of the white robes, so don't disappoint me by changing them now."

"That's not quite how it works, my dear," he chuckled at the thought of her dragging him away.

"Well, that is something we need to talk about too when you get back and we have a moment of calm."

"I will be back as soon as I can," he promised, pulling away and climbing onto Shadowfax, "I am sorry, but I have to leave."

"Just make sure you make it back in one piece," she placed her hand on the site stead's head, "Bring him back safely and swiftly."

With that, Gandalf and Minerva shared one more passing look before Gandalf took off towards his destination. Both of them longing for one more moment together and for this war to be over soon.

TBC…..