The chilly wind ripped viciously through the witch’s cloak as she walked swiftly through the streets of Hogsmeade Village. The gloomy, overcast sky promised rain and Minerva sincerely hoped that she’d be out of the elements before the bottom fell out. It was the middle of the rainy season, and soon the rain would start to transform to ice and snow. Though McGonagall loved the beauty of the white season, she did not love the nastiness that preceded it.

For an elder witch with a walking stick, she still managed to move smoothly and swiftly. The gates of the great castle parted easily when she approached, obviously she was expected. She passed by the few students making their way to and from the castle to their outdoorsy classes and nodded at those she knew. The look of impatience and irritation on her face stopped those that wished to engage her in conversation and she made it to the warm entrance hall with little incident.

The stairs caused a bit more of an issue, as the fickle things insisted on swiveling and placing her on the opposite side of the second floor. Her knowledge of the castle corridors was a bit rusty after four years away from the school, but it was amazing at how fast the knowledge came back to her. She cut through a hidden tapestry and found herself just a bit down the corridor from the grumpy-looking gargoyle guarding the Headmaster’s office.

Speaking clearly and loudly, she called the password to the stone and watched as it leapt aside, allowing her access to the inner sanctum beyond. It was hard to not feel a little nostalgic as she rode the staircase to the top and clanked the knocker three times loudly. How many times had the role been reversed? Minerva sitting behind the desk, awaiting a meeting with various members of the wizarding community or a surprise visit from a member of the school? She let out a small sigh of longing as she waited for the Headmaster’s permission for admittance.

The last couple of days had been an absolute nightmare. Herschel only had one son. A boy that had been a miracle, considering the age of his late wife when he was born. A boy that he had loved and doted upon. The boy who broke the line of purity on his end. The son who had married a muggle woman, and Herschel had been the father to love his son and love his daughter and his grandchildren. Tolerance had been born in his generation. It had made Herschel proud to look at his direct descendents and see success and happiness.

But that had been shattered in a matter of moments. His son was accompanying his daughter-in-law on a business trip. A few days out of town, nothing particularly exciting or fancy. Just a chance to get away. But Muggle technology was finicky, and muggles ever wreckless. Herschel had received the owl from his son who had been admitted to a muggle Hospital after barely surviving a car accident... His daughter-in-law had not been so lucky. But Herschel hadn't the time to abandon his post for long, the tournament a pressing matter and foreign relations in his hands. He had visited his son, had received what was supposed to be a positive prognosis...

Like technology, however, magic was also a finicky thing. Especially when that magic had every possibility of inadvertently interacting with the very machines which were tasked with keeping his son's health in check. Herschel had wanted to take him to St. Mungo's... But how could he move him without causing a scene in the muggle world? No, his son had assured him that he would be fine. Had sent Herschel back to his post at Hogwarts.

And then, his son was gone.

It was an unnatural thing, for a parent to have to bury his child. An unnatural thing to bury one's child side by side with the love of their life. And his grandchildren- devastated. His grandson only a second year, his granddaughter a first year. Losing their parents so young. Immediately Herschel took the reigns of the family. Arranging for their things to be moved into his estate. Offering them all the love and support they needed. But helping them heal and making this transition would be impossible when he truly had so very little time to devote to their needs and development.

So Herschel had sent for Minerva. He had taught under her once, they had served together on the board of governor's... Herschel admired and respected the woman more than any other he had ever met. She was a real class act. What a lady and an educator should be. He had kept the news quiet. His grandchildren had spent the last few days with a muggle relative, out of school and dealing with the very harsh reality their parents were not coming back. Herschel wanted this whole mess cleared up before they came back. He had to make the decision which was best for his family- Herschel Reid had to resign as headmaster.

It was a terrible reality to face. He'd had so many aspirations- dreams and goals for the school year. Herschel had wanted to make an impact. But he was beginning to believe the rumors- that the position was cursed. Like the rumors about the Defense Against the Dark Arts position in the past.

He had been pacing when the stone moved to allow Minerva into his office. "Please, please sit down." His bow-tie was askew, and what little bit of hair he had left was unkempt. Herschel's suit was wrinkled, and his already baggy eyes even baggier. There was a half-empty decanter of whiskey sitting unashemedly on his desk, a full glass next to it. "Unforunately I have not called you here under more pleasant terms, Minerva. Would you care for a drink?" he motioned to the tray on his desk. "Best firewhiskey I've ever had. Excellent year. Have been saving it for years..." he trailed off as he took a sip from his own glass and slumped into the large, wingback chair behind his desk.

Minerva pushed on the well-polished door and stepped into the magnificent office. Minerva wiped her face of all emotion when she looked at her old friend. The usually dapper man looked extraordinarily unkempt and exhausted. Something was obviously wrong with the Headmaster and Minerva was truly worried about his wellbeing.

As she made her way to the chair in front of the desk, the rain started to fall, lashing out against the window, turning the sky into a premature twilight. “Herschel… is everything alright?” She asked, not unkindly, slipping warily in the chair. The man looked a bit too… tipsy… to be on the job. “Perhaps just a splash,” the elderly witch said in response to the man’s offer. She wasn’t much for drinking in the middle of the day, but the more she had… the less he could consume.

She took her conical hat and placed it in the vacant chair beside her. She took the offered glass of spirits and turned her full attention to the Headmaster. 

He shook his head slowly, swirling the whiskey in his glass. What a funny question- was everything alright. He wanted to laugh, if only in hopes of drowning out the churning in his gut as he considered the question. Having to explain, aloud, the dreadful circumstances. Saying it made it real. Part of Herschel was still hoping this was all some very dream- brought on by a bad potion or spoiled banana. "I had such big dreams for this year," he told her. "So many things I wanted to do. Such a prestigious position- it was a culmination of a life which I dedicated to the education and well being of children. I am very good at it, Minerva. My job, I mean. All facets of it." Herschel sighed again, and pulled the bowtie from around his neck, tossing the wrinkled thing on his desk.

"My son," he began- voice catching in his throat. Herschel closed his eyes, swallowed. He set the glass of whiskey carefully on his desk. "My son," he continued, eyes still closed. "... Is dead." Harsher words were never spoken. Herschel bent at the waste, covering his face with his hands. It was demeaning, embarrassing even, to give into emotion and cry in front of a woman like Minerva McGonagall. But he hadn't had the chance to cry. He had been busy taking care of business. Placating his grandchildren. Comforting his daughter-in-law's family. Assuring them that he was more than capable of taking care of his grandchildren. Afraid the muggle court systems would intervene. How would he explain to them that magical children couldn't live with the muggle family?

It was a painful few minutes as he lost control of himself. Hunched over in his seat, crying (mostly) silent tears. Somehow he managed to stop the strem, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his eyes and blow his nose. "A car accident," he further explained. "And my daughter-in-law. We burried them yesterday." And not even in the family plots- because Herschel had lost most of his family when he had decided not to follow the Dark Lord. When he had made the decision of peace and tolerance, accepting his son's muggle wife with open arms and doting upon half-blood grandchildren.

"I..." he trailed off again, a lump swelling in his throat. "I cannot do this job any longer. My grandchildren... They need me. I cannot be for them what they need if I am at the helm, and I cannot serve this institution in the midst of so much heartbreak when there is already chaos." By chaos he meant the tournament- all of the special needs of foreign students and faculty.

Minerva’s heart shattered when the Headmaster told her the unfortunate news. Her hand went to her mouth as she bit back a sob. It would not do well for Minerva to lose face right now, not when Herschel obviously needed someone else to be strong for a change. She had had the fortunate experience to teach both Byron Reid and his lovely bride and couldn’t imagine a death more unexpected. They had both been competent in magic, perhaps not a Hermione Granger, but skilled nonetheless. For a quick moment she was lost in memories of times past before the reality of the situation yanked her back to the present.

A sharp intake of breath followed Herschel’s next words. She couldn’t imagine a fate more cruel for those children. She had lost her parents, true, but it had been much later in life. Though age didn’t ease the ache and the grief, it at least made it easier to understand. How did you explain to a child that their parents were never coming back? This could be a cruel world indeed.

Minerva completely understood the Headmaster’s need to resign, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept. McGonagall couldn’t remember a time when the Head of the school had been changed three times in a single term, and she had no clue how the post would be filled. The Board of Governors was usually rather slow about doing things. They checked every avenue before making a decision, but this was yet another issue that needed to be dealt with quickly. Zephyr’s post hadn’t been filled yet, so she decided it was her job to take the initiative.

“Herschel, I’m so sorry,” She said to the man weeping openly in front of her. What could you do to comfort someone in such a state? “I fully accept your resignation and all that entails. Will you be leaving the post immediately, or do you have time to stay and set your affairs in order?” She asked the man kindly. “Obviously we’re willing to offer your post back within the Board of Governors, if you so choose to take it,” Well… Minerva wasn’t exactly in charge of things like that, but she was certain that it was the right thing to do, and there wasn’t exactly anyone in the position of adding members without a chairperson.

Herschel was glad it was Minerva he was talking to. He wasn't sure how he could have managed announcing his resignation to what was left of the board. "I intended to stick around long enough for there to be a replacement found. I know this comes at an inopportune time, Minerva, but I must do what is right for myself and for my family. Hogwarts needs strength and stability to stay together throughout this tournament. I can no longer offer that." This was evident, if not in his emotional behavior then in the fact he had surrendered himself to spirits so easily. Herschel had always enjoyed a nice glass of whiskey, but never had been the sort to get intoxicated on the clock. It was unprofessional. But he had been seeking solace in the bottom of that decanter, and he was beginning to find it.

"I will talk to Professor Storm, and ask for him to pick up my slack over the next couple of weeks. He's a reliable man, and I trust he has Hogwarts' best interests at heart... Despite his alma mater." The idea of a Durmstrang graduate doing anything good for Hogwarts was still a hard pillow to swallow for Herschel. It made no sense, when you considered the things you heard of Durmstrang and their dark past. But he was willing to look beyond that. Especially since he needed to see beyond that.

"It is kind of you to offer, Minerva. But I am not sure when I will be able to resume my position as a governor. I believe that is better left for the future. Right now I must handle this one day at a time. Thinking of the future only further exhausts me, and I do not want to make anymore promises that I will not be able to keep. I've always prided myself on being a man of his word. Having to reneg so many promises is painful enough as it is."

Minerva nodded sharply at the distraught headmaster. She completely understood what he meant about Hogwarts needing a strong leader, but hard as she might try, she just couldn’t think of anyone who could take over his spot and make it work, at least not in the middle of the Tetrawizard Tournament. She would suggest Ignan Storm, like Reid had, but he was of Durmstrang stock, and the headmaster must be a Hogwarts alumnus.

“Of course,” The elderly witch said, lifting her misty eyes to meet with the headmaster’s. “I’ll talk to the board, I’m sure we can find your replacement quickly,” she said, clasping her hands in front of her to keep them from fidgeting in her agitated state. “Also, Herschel, should you need anything, I’m here for you. I live in the village; I can be here at a moment’s notice.” She had never had children, but considered every student that passed through Hogwarts’ great winged boars to be one of her very own and she truly cared about them all. It was a terrible thing to know that two more would never reach their full potentials or live full lives.

The retired headmistress took a hefty swallow of the whisky and paused while the familiar burn slid down her throat, “Is there anything we can do for you, Herschel? Other than find someone to fill your shoes, of course,”

Herschel was glad that Minerva seemed to be willing to understand why he couldn't continue his post, why he couldn't promise to continue his job even as a Hogwarts Governor. It might take a few months for him to put life together for himself and for his grandchildren. He had not been a parent in some time, and wasn't sure if he was capable of easily keeping up with the goings on of a first and second year- even if they were at school year round. Perhaps he would go back to tutoring in his spare time rather than return to the governors- a constant reminder of what could have been in his future...

He gave her a thankful smile. "If I need you, Minerva, I will not hesitate to ask for your help. It means a lot to me, that you would be willing to devote yourself without hesitation to aiding me."

"The only thing I need right now is time. It was all very abrupt. And I cannot help but think bringing my son to Mungo's might have helped. But how do you remove a man from a muggle hospital? Would he have forgiven me if he had lived and his wife had not? There are so many unanswered questions and what-ifs surrounding the whole situation." Herschel sighed and rubbed his eyes. "It will take me a long time to learn not to dwell upon them. If not for my own sake, then for the sake of the children."

Herschel finished the last of the whiskey in his glass, closed the decanter, and with his wand levitated it away from him. "I did not mean to drink quite so much. But I was afraid of resigning. Of admitting defeat." It was very unlike him. Herschel had always been of the opinion that he could do anything. He had dealt with grief once before. But when his wife had passed, it had been expected. She had been ill for a while, and he had readied himself. This grief was all together different from what he had experienced before.

He sat quiet for a few moments, simply glad for the company. "Minerva?" he began tentatively, as an idea struck him. "Have you entirely counted yourself out for filling the shoes of Headmistress once again?" Herschel asked. "You did a wonderful job before. I think it unlikely anyone could consider Hogwarts weak or question your appointment as headmistress." It seemed an obvious answer as he watched her sit across from him. She looked just as at home in the office as she had when he had worked under her in the past.

Minerva looked over at Herschel with a thoughtful expression on her face. Thankfully he had banished the decanter of spirits from his side. Minerva had never approved of the use of vices to drown your problems, no matter how bad they might be. She nodded her head slightly at the gentleman, completely understanding his fear of defeat. Minerva was the same way, when she had resigned, she had felt like a complete fraud, and was only starting to gain a sense of normalcy back in her life.

“Herschel, I’ll not completely write it off,” She said, mainly to appease the man. She honestly had no intention of returning to the school. She missed it terribly, of course, but she still stood by her original statement that her time was over; it was time to pass the torch, so to speak. She couldn’t help thinking, however, that perhaps she was supposed to return to the school, and maybe her time wasn’t finished. Truthfully, there weren’t very many other people experienced enough to take on the school, especially with the Tournament going on. She would probably accept the post if it was offered to her again, though she’d never put her name in the goblet; it would have to be offered.

“I won’t lie to you and tell you that I haven’t missed the place. I just fear that there have been too many changes for me to return as seamlessly as you might imagine and what Hogwarts needs more than anything else, is someone who can come in and take over without making a fuss about things.” Minerva smiled a little shakily, showing her support in the smallest of ways.

Herschel smiled at her, watery eyes showing how much he appreciated her. "I'm sorry you had to see me in such a condition, Minerva. You have nothing to worry about. I will make sure that the whiskey stays in the cabinet. Not the best of decisions on my part."

"Though I do believe, of all people who could come in seamlessly, the great Minerva McGonagall is one of them. A well respected witch with previous experience running the school. A woman who was trusted enough to be Dumbledore's right hand witch... Hogwarts could ask for nobody better suited to fill the position."

Herschel slowly stood from his chair and circled around his desk. "I appreciate your quick response, Minerva. But I believe I need some time to gather my wits. I have much to accomplish these next couple of weeks. Taking care of... family business... And getting Hogwarts ready to change hands. I promise to stay in touch, Minerva. And if I need anything, I will be sure to ask the Governors or to request help from Storm. Things will sort themselves out. Hogwarts always has a way of being alright, no matter what happens with the staff."

He kept one hand on the desk to steady himself. "I believe first thing I need to do is find get a few hours of sleep. Some rest will make all the difference in the world. Then I can start taking care of things with a clear head." He would sleep well with his stomach full of whiskey.

Minerva nodded grimly at the Headmaster. “Rely on Storm,” She said, knowing full well that the utterances of a man filled with spirits was untrustworthy and should be taken with a grain of salt. She respected Herschel Reid and trusted that when he said he’d leave the alcohol alone, he would, but when a life altering event occurs, one must take into account that one’s life has been altered. The Herschel Reid that she once knew was no more. Standing before her was an empty shell of the man that she once knew, and though he may make a full recovery and be that man once again, it would take time.

She stood to her feet, using her walking stick for support. “I’ll discuss things with the other members of the board presently. You should receive a message shortly, and as soon as we know something about a replacement, I’ll notify you personally.” She chose to ignore Herschel’s compliments, as they were unnecessary and unwarranted. She did what she must for the school she loved; there was no need to harp on the supremacy of it all.

In a rather unexpected show of emotion, Minerva crossed the room and wrapped one arm tightly around the man’s neck, wrinkling her nose slightly as the smell of booze assaulted her nostrils. “Take care of yourself, Herschel.” She said, moving back with a genuine smile. She turned and made her way to the exit, turning back to look at the retiring Headmaster once more. “Get some rest,” She said gently, and let the revolving staircase take her slowly from the office.