Author's Note: I love this story,and I have returned to try and finish it many times. This is not the longest or best addition to the story, and it doesn't advance it much. However, it is an update with the material I currently have ready.

Disclaimer: I own nothing and just play here.

As a young witch attending Ilvormorney, Tallulah had never expected to find herself the assistant to one of the most brilliant minds in the wizarding world. Nevertheless, here she was in the office of Hermione Granger disposing of empty glass bottles and potion vials. She and Hermione had a developed a…close…relationship, but it was not uncommon for Tallulah to feel as if she were just another piece of office furniture. This was especially the case when her superior became engrossed in her research projects. Looking across the room, she knew that she had never seen another human being become so utterly dismantled while maintaining such a steely resolve. She watched as Hermione Granger, her friend, donned her armor to go to battle with only other witch or wizard who had ever held a chance of besting her. She was unsure what the battle was over, but there was one thing of which she was certain. Throwing the remaining whiskey from the cut crystal decanter down her throat, Tallulah whispered, "Well, this is going to be one helluva show…."

Hermione doesn't know why she is taking such pains with her appearance. She doesn't plan to stay long, nor does she plan to engage in discourse with Minerva...Headmistress McGonagall. In fact, she intended to take the castle by storm, and her research if necessary. "Five-fifteen, indeed," she thought as she twisted her unruly hair into an intricate design at the nape of her neck. "Who does Minerva McGonagall think she is…okay, that isn't a valid argument," Hermione realized. She looked at herself hard in the mirrored glass on the wall. "Shite…," she thought, "I am screwed…or not screwed enough…I need a drink!" She reached deep within herself to steel her resolve and turned away from the bar cart. With a final wave of her wand, Hermione centered herself, slowed her breathing, and prepared to apparate just outside of the wards protecting her former school.

The formidable Headmistress Minerva McGonagall had taken her place behind the centuries old mahogany desk. It was neat and organized with the utmost precision to facilitate the most efficient work flow possible. Minerva was framed by a large window with sweeping views of the grounds of Hogwarts. The portraits lining the office walls looked on as the witch patted her and looking in the mirror…again. "I have no idea why I am so restless," she thought, but she did know. Even as she took that last glance to the mirror above her office door and told herself that it was to ensure that the impertinent little upstart witch would receive the full McGonagall, she knew it was deeper than her desire to teach her former pupil a lesson. Casting a tempus charm, "That is when she finally arrives," Minerva grumbled only audible enough for the most recent additions to Headmaster portraits to hear.