{ As the World Falls Down }

[odainath]

 As the World Falls Down
post HBP; Harry Potter, Minerva McGonagall
The labyrinth was known for changing people.


I didn't understand the things you're going through
I never understood, I really never knew
Carry on
I'm in a bloody labyrinth, looking for a bloody Horcrux!

Approximately two hours later found Minerva leaning against the earthen wall, her mouth tightened into a frown. The air about her was stagnant, and she inhaled deeply, all the while berating herself for allowing herself to be in her current predicament. Potter had walked down the winding passage in search of foodstuffs, leaving her time enough to gather her thoughts together. His voice had been flat as he told her the full details of the night when Albus had been murdered, and never once had he faltered. At her insistence, he had also revealed the scrapbook of Tom Riddle's life he had witnessed through the pensieve, and a feeling of overwhelming nausea threatened to overwhelm her.

She was no stranger to warfare, twenty years at the right hand of Albus Dumbledore and her history had not allowed her that luxury; but she had never before realised just how young Voldemort had been when he succumbed to evil. Minerva had always believed that one made their own choice whether to join the light side or the dark, but the phrase 'born evil' seemed accurate for Tom Riddle.

A heavy thud broke her morbid ruminations and caused her to start violently. She whirled around, wand held aloft and poised for defense - only to be lowered as quickly as it had been raised when she found not a dozen masked Death Eaters, but one Harry Potter who looked alarmed at her reaction.

“Christ, Potter! she exclaimed violently, forcing her breathing and racing pulse to slow.

“Sorry, Professor,” Harry said sheepishly. “I tripped.”

The surge of adrenalin began to abate and she recalled how to breathe, and how to smile. “An overreaction on my part, Potter,” she said, waving his apology away. “Though down here...”

Her voice trailed off, and Harry nodded to show he understood. “I couldn't find any food,” Potter said, leaning on the wall next to her, and staring up at the ceiling. “It seems that we'll be going hungry.”

Minerva glanced at her untidy-haired charge and followed his example and looked upward.

“Any chance that Jareth guy will give us food?” Potter asked, breaking the silence.

“Highly doubtful,” Minerva spat as anger surged through her veins. “He's not one to make life easier for anybody.”

Her jaw clenched, and Potter looked at her in alarm as fury radiated from her skin, easily palpable in the closed space. He said nothing however, but pushed himself off the wall, and held his hand toward her.

“Shall we?” he said, quirking an eyebrow.

In spite of herself, the beginning of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “We shall,” she agreed batting his hand away and walking down the tunnel. Potter caught up easily with her long strides, and the two walked silently. Minerva was unsure what to say to the young man beside her; conversation had never come naturally to her, and to find herself alone with a student in a labyrinth made the situation far more awkward.

It was Potter who broke the silence.

“How long do you think it will take to reach the center?” he asked softly, as they reached a fork in the veritable maze.

Minerva shrugged her shoulders as she withdrew her wand from her pocket and held it out as she peeked around one corner. Her caution was founded as a streak of violet light flew past her, narrowly missing her nose as she jerked back. Harry grabbed her waist, preventing her from falling, and she gave him a quick smile of appreciation before crouching to her knees and firing a silver web that caught the oncoming violet light and contracted until it disappeared with a soft 'crack.'

Harry held his hand out, and helped her to her feet. “What was that spell, Professor?” he asked. “That was really neat, how did you do that!”

“Entrepaie,” Minerva answered. “A non-verbal spell that can surround almost any curse and render it useless. It can come in very handy.”

Potter blinked slowly, a gesture that was somehow startled and slow at the same time. “Where did you learn that?” he asked eventually.

Minerva flushed crimson. “I'm sure you remember the...incident in your fifth year where I was hit with four stunners?” she said softly.

Harry nodded, his eyebrows raised slightly, a silent bid for her to continue.

“When I recovered, I promised myself that a similar situation could never happen again. Henceforth I asked Filius Flitiwick and Severus Snape to teach me the finer points of dueling. I am now more than proficient.”

Harry's face darkened at the mere mention of Severus' name, and his youthful features hardened until he looked far older than his sixteen years. Minerva cleared her throat, dispelling the awkwardness that had grown between them, and gestured for him to follow behind her down the left tunnel.

“Who's Sarah?” he asked suddenly.

Minerva shot him a side-long glance, her eyes narrowing before she exhaled at length. “She's my niece,” Minerva answered eventually. “When she was sixteen she invoked an ancient magic when she banished her younger brother, Toby, into the hands of Jareth whom you met earlier. Realising her mistake, she followed Toby here where Jareth gave her an ultimatum. She had to find Toby, otherwise he would train him as his 'Prince.' It took Sarah several weeks, as she is a squib and didn't have the ability to use magic, but she did retrieve Toby though it was at a...price...” her voice trailed off, and Potter cleared his throat nervously, indicating that he read between the oblique lines she had drawn.

“Isn't there a movie...?” he ventured after a few (remarkably prologued) minutes.

Minerva rolled her eyes and nodded. “A highly contrived tale that paints Jareth completely differently to his real self. There was no mention of the real story, which, at Sarah's wish, not many people know about.”

“I see.”

Harry asked no more questions, and the two continued walking silently. Minerva looked at the young man out of the corner of her eye. She knew it was less than a month before he turned seventeen, but if she hadn't know the boy she would place his age at 20. He had grown up so quickly, both physically and mentally, in the past year, that she hadn't noticed its occurrence. He was a sixteen-year-old veteran of war, and where adolescence should have been a time for arrogance, his very maturity had often been mistaken for egotism. What people seldom realised was that the world did revolve around his actions, and that he was integral to the war that had never really ended.

He held himself with a posture that dangerously toed the line between confidence and arrogance, with his held held aloft and his shoulders thrust backward. His forehead was smooth, and descended to vivid green eyes which whilst still alight with youth, were also somewhat shrouded by an internal Azkaban. His cheekbones were high, and his mouth, which at the present time was tightened into what could almost be called a scowl, was small. His body was lean to the point of being 'skinny' but his seeming frailty was belied by the lean muscle which strained against the shoulders of his shirt, and the veins which snaked over his forearms, visible where he had pushed the sleeves of his long-sleeved muggle shirt up to his elbows.

Minerva felt a trickle of sweat run down her back, and realised that the temperature of the tunnel had risen dramatically. She removed her jacket, shrinking it so it fit in her pocket, and reveled in the relative coolness that touched the now-exposed skin of her arms. Potter glanced down at her (his recent growth spurt had made him over six-feet tall, and he now topped her by several inches).

“It's a dead end,” he said flatly.

Minerva shook her head as her eyes narrowed behind their square-framed spectacles. “No, Sarah told me about this. If I'm right, there should be a tunnel right about...here...”

She touched her hands to a seemingly bare patch of wall, and it glowed white for an instant, before sinking out of sight. Minerva waited several moments, waiting for any sign of dark magic, and stepped inside carefully. Potter followed her, and they stood awkwardly in the small space and looked up where a rope ladder had fallen from the ceiling.

“Ladies, first,” the young man said, stepping back slightly.

Minerva smiled weakly, before reaching upward and gripping the flimsy rail of the latter. She had scarcely placed her foot on the first rung when Potter leapt forward, tackling her to the ground and knocking the wind from her lungs. The ceiling began to fall in, and stones of all sizes plummeted downward. Potter shifted his weight so he was shielding her fully from the debris, and with great difficulty Minerva reached into the pocket of her jeans and muttered a silent shielding charm. The stones were held at bay mere inches from the top of Potter's head, and by the way the invisible barrier was shaking, she knew it wouldn't last long.

Knowing that neither would be able to stand, she pushed Potter gently toward the still open entrance. His green eyes lit up in comprehension and he wrapped his arms around her waist as they rolled back into the small clearing. They entered not a moment too soon, and the ground shook beneath them as the barrier finally broke and rocks flooded down.

Minerva pushed him away from her, and sat upright, her chest still heaving as she fought to regain breath. Harry was next to her, and from his labored breathing she knew he was in a similar predicament. He recovered first, and rose to his feet and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. She looked up and smiled, not protesting as she helped her to her feet. As soon as she was upright, she swayed alarmingly, and it was only Harry's seeker's reflexes that enabled him to catch her before she fell back to the ground.

He lowered her gently as she grimaced. “Where are you hurt?” he asked, his green eyes wide with concern.

“My ankle,” she managed eventually. “I think it might be broken.”

Potter nodded, and sat down on the floor, picking up her left foot and easing her boot off. Her ankle had swelled alarmingly, and she winced as Potter placed his fingers atop the swelling, gouging her reaction.

“Well, it's definitely broken,” he said as his fingers traced over the slightly protuberant bones.

Minerva suppressed the urge to roll her eyes, and jerked her foot back as Harry's hand trailed over the broken bone. He grabbed her calf, and pulled her foot back, ignoring Minerva's protests as he pointed his wand at her foot.

“Episkey,” he said quickly.

Instantly, Minerva felt as if her foot had been plunged in an ice bath, and then into scalding water, before it fell limply back into Harry's lap. The boy beamed at her, and for an instant Minerva caught a glimpse of the youth he might have been had circumstances been different.

“Better?” he asked as Minerva drew her foot close, and inspected it closely.

“It seems to be,” Minerva conceded, reaching for her boot and pulling it back on, noting that no searing pain jolted through her leg.

She rose to her feet, and balanced her weight evenly. Harry had leapt to his feet, and was standing four feet away, waiting for her to speak.

“Your healing skills are impressive, Mr. Potter,” she said with a small smile.

The young man grinned, and the two began to walk back the way they had come, both with their wands drawn. They had traveled about half-a-mile when Minerva heard a rumbling noise, and Harry clutched his stomach. She raised an eyebrow in concern.

“I'm just hungry,” he explained, one hand on his lower abdomen. “It's been hours since I last ate, and all this walking...”

Minerva nodded understandably. “Let's take a rest,” she said, sliding down the wall and drawing her knees to her chest. “We've certainly earned it.”

Harry nodded gratefully, and sat next to her, resting his head against the earthen wall. Minerva glanced at him as he stared at the opposite side of the tunnel. His eyes were alight with memories, and his mouth twitched in a grimace and he closed his eyes as if in pain. Minerva placed a hand on his shoulder, and he flinched slightly.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, rubbing his upper arms. “That's been happening a bit lately.”

Minerva reached out and placed her hand atop his, noting that he didn't draw back from her touch, and rather took comfort in it. For this she was grateful, if they were to be trapped along together for an indefinite amount of time, it would be easier if they were comfortable around each other. She stiffened as she heard a soft rattle near them, and felt the unmistakable icy-flood head, accompanied by a rush of adrenalin that indicated a Dementors presence.

She and Harry moved at the same time, Harry swinging his arm in a wide arc and twisting on his knees, whilst Minerva stood upright and pointed her wand before her. Both bellowed 'Expecto patronum,' and all-at-once a massive stag and a Gryffindor lion ran toward the oncoming crowd of Dementors, forcing them to move backward. The hooded figures jostled with each other, all eager to move out of the way of the silver creatures which shepherded them away.  Harry and Minerva stood, poised lest the Dark Creatures reappear, before sinking back to the ground. The stag and lion returned to their respective owners, and dissipated into thin air.

“Well, Jareth wasn't joking when he said it was bad,” Harry said after a moment's pause.

Minerva laughed - a sound more hollow than light-hearted. “Probably the most truth that man's ever told. And the only time I've ever wished he was lying.”

A searing heat burnt into Minerva's skin, and she held the necklace before her. Harry leant over her shoulder as Sarah's voice echoed in the tunnel. “Well, I know you're in the Labyrinth, and I know you'll need food. So I figured out a nifty little way of transporting food items through the necklace.”

Minerva's brow furrowed slightly, but Sarah's meaning was soon apparent when a small, brown bag appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and hovered for a second before falling to the ground and spilling its contents. Cans of fruit and a loaf of bread scattered over the dirt floor, and Harry let out a 'whoop' of joy as he scooped the food into a pile.

The necklace glowed hot again, and Minerva couldn't help but grin at Sarah's next words. “I can't take all the credit. Two of your students, Ron and Hermione came and found me. I think they must have raided your office to find my address. It was Hermione who thought that the necklace could be used. I have a message from them to Harry Potter. 'Listen to McGonagall, she knows what she's doing. And keep your temper under control.' That's it really. Just contact me when you need more food. Don't try and actually talk, I imagine the Dark Lord's charmed it so no verbal communication from inside the Labyrinth works. Non-verbal though seems to work fine.”

The metal around Minerva's neck went cold, as did Minerva's smile. She turned to Harry who was busy buttering a slice of bread. He glanced up and faltered at her expression.

“Professor?” he asked thickly through a mouthful of jam, butter and bread.

Minerva shook her head, and smiled gently. “Nothing, lad. Eat your food.”

Harry looked at her for a moment longer, and deeming her answer passable (or if not passable, than the most she was going to give him) and returned to his bread which he had smothered with jam. A draught suddenly crept through the tunnel, eliciting a shudder from her limbs, and she retrieved her jacket from her pocket and restored it to its original size and draped it over her knees. Potter was intent on eating, and she didn't interrupt him as he seized a can of fruit and opened it with a tap of his wand, choosing instead to lean her head against the wall and close her eyes.

Almost immediately she fell into a half-dream and caught snatches of her subconscious. She had just begun to re-emerge from the Labyrinth, holding nothing in her hands with tears streaming down her cheeks, when she drifted into somnolence and the world faded into black.

--

Hours later, the dream continued to play in her mind, a continuous loop of Divination that ceased to play despite her best attempts to waylay the needle. The tunnel was dark and soundless, but the screams from the mouths of Minerva's past that clawed forth from the deepest recesses of her penetralia, were more than enough to make her cower.

At forty-two, a hand reached upward and ripped at her hair, pulling at the roots, mimicking her teenage self.

Sixteen years old, and eyes wide with terror as her uncle sat on her bed; his blood-red lips parted revealing pearly-white teeth.

“How's my favourite niece?”
“I'm your only niece, Uncle Jareth.”

Seventeen, and cutting the black locks that surrounded her face.

“Minerva, what are you doing?”
“Making myself ugly.”

At sixteen and twenty-five (in her own cerebral crypt), holding her black-haired niece to her chest. “I'm sorry, Sarah, I'm so sorry...”

Minerva awoke, embroiled in her memories. It took mere moments to realise that the vivid green eyes boring into hers weren't Sarah's, but those of her unruly-haired charge. He was holding her shoulders tightly, stilling her, and she supposed she must have been thrashing. Her chest was heaving as if she had just run a mile, and she pushed Potter away and curled into herself.

“Good Lord, Professor,” he said softly, as she hung her head in her hands, feeling for a brief moment like the sixteen-year-old she had been waiting on the bed. “What did he do to you?”

His words, accompanied by his concerned expression, broke the gates that had held her tears at bay, and they fell down her cheeks in torrents. She rocked back-and-forth, wanting to stop and be the irascible Professor McGonagall that Harry knew, but found she could not. Wordlessly he drew her toward him, and she clung to him desperately, her fingers curling into the fine wool of his shirt. He rubbed circles on her back and murmured useless words of comfort in her ear, none of which she understood, but appreciated nonetheless. How long he held her, she did not know, but he eventually pulled back though he kept a firm grip on her torso. She looked down at the floor, abashed, and tried futilely to brush her tears away.

She found her face being pushed upright by a firm hand, and Harry brushed away a stray lock of hair that had fallen across her forehead and tucked it behind her ear. He didn't speak as he lay down in front of her, pulling her down with him, though there were no sexual connotations in any of his actions.

“I can't stop seeing him,” she said softly, an uncontrollable quaver in her voice. “Being in this place...Sarah must have been so scared...”

Tears fell again, and Harry reached out and stroked her hair. “I'm sorry,” he said. “If I hadn't been such an idiot, you wouldn't be in here...”

Minerva shook her head vehemently. “No. We need to find this Horcrux.”

Harry nodded, and Minerva realised that her tears had stopped. The two fell silent, still facing each other, and Minerva flushed dramatically. Harry pretended not to notice and closed his eyes, and his breathing soon became so steady that she realised he had fallen asleep. Minerva watched his chest rise and fall rhythmically, and reached forward and gave his hand an appreciative squeeze, before closing her own eyes and allowing sleep to overcome her.

--

Minerva awoke, and found herself lying on the dirt floor underneath Harry's jacket. She sat upright, her eyes darting up and down the tunnel in search of her unruly-haired charge. Her gaze was blurred, and she felt about the floor for her glasses which she found next to her, and hurriedly pushed them onto her nose and resumed her vigil.

Where on earth had Potter gone? Possible theories ran through her mind, each depicting a more gruesome scenario than the last, and she leapt to her feet and began to jog down the tunnel, her keen senses on high alert. Her blouse was covered in dirt, and she brushed it away irritably. Finally she reached the fork at the end, and quickly poked her head around the corner. Her shoulders slumped, and she let out a sigh of relief as she found her charge with his hands on his hips, looking upward.

He smiled at her as she rounded the corner, and she echoed his movements and looked upward. There were faint threads of blue-green light flooding through the roof of the tunnel. Her eyes narrowed.

“Potter,” she said, gesturing for the young man to come forward. “I need you to lift me up for a second.”

Harry obeyed instantly, and placed his hands on her waist, lifting her easily. Her fingertips connected with the ceiling, and she traced them along the cracks. Her movements froze as she drew her hand back, and found water dripping along her skin.

“Christ,” she muttered as Harry set her back on the ground. “Quick, we don't have much time.”

She had barely finished her sentence when the ceiling began to shudder, and she grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him along with her as she sprinted back toward their belongings. In a fluid movement she retrieved both of their jackets whilst Harry grabbed the food and they continued down the tunnel at a sprint. Harry stumbled, and fell to the ground, eliciting an 'oof' from his lips. Minerva skidded, and reached for his hand as the ceiling caved in, and water flooded toward them. The water knocked them off their feet, and she intertwined her fingers with Harry's and pulled him upright as it slowly rose until it reached their necks.

“When I say 'now',” she said urgently. “I want you to hold your breath and go under. Okay?”

He nodded, his jaw set resolutely. The water rose even more, and Minerva shouted 'Now!' at the top of her lungs.

Harry ducked underwater, and she could feel his hand still gripping hers tightly as she gripped her wand tightly and held it at her side. In a stabbing motion, she thought 'exstelliae!' and she wrenched Harry toward her as the two shot upward, through the ceiling and to the next level of the Labyrinth. His hands gripped her waist so tightly that his nails dug into her skin, and it was with no small sense of relief that they were thrown against the ground and he lessened his hold. Minerva staggered upright and looked down at where they had been to find a river churning below them, the white-wash of rapids visible even from their higher vantage point.

“We lost the food,” Harry panted from behind her. “And our jackets.”

He was shivering, and Minerva quickly cast a warming charm. His hair remained slick across his forehead, and his eyes were bright behind his spectacles as water ran down from the unruly-locks. Minerva nodded as she cast the same charm on herself, and her blouse stopped clinging to her like a second skin.

“We should be all right without the jackets,” she said, wiping her glasses with a portion of her now-dry blouse, and placing them back on her nose. “And we can contact Sarah again about the food.”

Harry nodded. “Do you have any idea where we are?” he asked, looking about his surroundings.

Minerva looked around her to find they were standing in the center of a tunnel which split four ways.

“None,” she said grudgingly. “We'll just have to try all of them systematically.”

Harry groaned and looked despairingly at her. “That could take weeks!”

Minerva sighed deeply. “Then we had better get started. Which one first?”

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “Well left didn't work too well for us last time, so let's try right this time.”

He held his arm out to her, and Minerva gave him a small grin. “We will make it, Harry,” she said, using his first name. “You do know that?”

The young man nodded at her and returned her smile as she batted his arm away and followed her down the right tunnel. “I know.”

“Excellent.”