It is the beginning of summer break, and Minerva is taking full advantage of it. She sits on the shores of the lake, with her light summer robes tucked up and her feet in the water. The sun is just beginning set and the squid is paddling lazily in the shallows. In short, it is the perfect summer's eve.

She is pacing. She has checked and rechecked the magical ropes binding the captured Death Eaters, and strengthened the spells on them to the point where they are well-nigh unbreakable. The captured wands are tucked deep in her cloak. There is nothing for her to do but wait and try to control the frightened crowd around her.

Minerva's rooms are much like their owner: neat, bookish, and prim, at least to the naked eye. Further examination reveals streaks of whimsy and charm, but only to those who know what to look for. The sitting room is lined with windows on one side, facing the Quidditch pitch, while the remaining walls are occupied with bookcases. A well-used and ( Read more... )

She leads him from the bar and through the door into the hall in front of her rooms. The walls and floor are cold stone, and the ceiling is lost to darkness. The only source of light are torches flickering on the walls.

"Where would you like to go first, dear Yrael?"

It was intolerable. She was acting like a schoolgirl with a crush. Which was a horrifying thought, considering the frightening lengthes and idiocies she had seen gone to by generations of schoolgirls. But it was true. Despite her best efforts, her mind kept straying from the examanations she was trying to write ("Describe the proper way to convert ( Read more... )

She watches the porcelian basin on the side table carefully. She only has a few minutes before she has to get back to her seventh-years, but the box of dolls they are to be turning into newts is prepared, as is the bottle she is going to be decanting the forthcoming potion into ( Read more... )