Monday, December 7
10:15 a.m.

Minerva’s lips pursed as she waded through a sea of red. When visiting the Ministry before her reinstatement as headmistress, McGonagall had purposefully avoided the Auror Headquarters, for the simple reason that she didn’t enjoy the way some of them behaved. It seemed, to the elder witch, that quite a few of the Aurors of this generation were pompous and took their positions much too seriously, when in all honesty, only a select handful had even the slightest inclination as to what it was like to face a foe as dangerous and as wicked as Voldemort and are still alive to give testimony to it.

So, clad in her maroon Wizengamot robes, Minerva strode with purpose through the grumpy Monday morning faces. She stuck out, more than usual, because not only were her eyes flashing dangerously at anyone who dared to open their mouths, but also because she was Minerva McGonagall, and seeing her away from the castle this close to the Yule Ball was a queer sight in itself. Anyone who knew anything about Minerva knew that she was fiercely loyal to the castle and the Tetrawizard Tournament was a way for her to show her pride and respect for Hogwarts.

Truly, had the situation not been most dire, she wouldn’t have even bothered leaving the castle. She often wondered why Tarron Knight didn’t ask for her resignation from the Wizengamot. Minerva was a popular figure, to be sure, but she shirked her duties at every opportunity and only attended the cases that interested her, and in this case, it just happened to be a case rather near her own heart. The cat animagus had always been a rather staunch supporter of werewolf rights, so when a case appeared on a well respected member of the St. Mungo’s staff and retired Hogwarts Headmaster, Minerva couldn’t sit idly by and let it fall to fate.

She had followed the case religiously, putting in kind words of encouragement when needed, and now they were quickly approaching a super sub-committee hearing and Minerva had been put on the list of members to attend. She quickly needed to brush up on the case, and had heard the file on the case could be found in the Auror offices. She wasn’t exactly sure why the dark wizard catchers would have the file, the arrest was months ago, but she wasn’t about to argue. She wanted to grab the file and head back out, she did have a ball to finish planning, after all.

She stood outside Raynor’s office for a few moments, knocking rather vigorously. When she realized that Tamis wasn’t in, she started to head back out, intent on apprehending Rosier and demanding the file from him, but stopped in her tracks as she noticed a rather familiar face. Dawlish. Back out of retirement, just as she was. She supposed it was only fitting. She held John Dawlish in high contempt, after not only trying to arrest Dumbledore, but also trying to attack Hagrid. The event had landed Minerva in St. Mungo’s, and she still had trouble breathing sometimes, after Dawlish and his counterparts sent five stunning spells, hitting the then Deputy Headmistress directly in the chest.

Still, she knew that if anyone would know where to find the head auror, Dawlish would be aware. “Dawlish.” She said rather curtly, “perhaps you could point me in the direction of Auror Raynor?”

John walked between the cubicals where old and new colleagues was working, while passing through, he examined a parchment with a concentrated frown. He had received a report about a witch, whose name was still unknown. She is alleged to have committed multiple offenses and have a relatively thick criminal record, where several of the crimes should have been directed towards Muggles. However, there had been no fatalities noted in the report, which was why he had decided to seek out the Head of the office and ask for permission to delegate the task to the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol. The Hit-Wizards would be more than capable of handeling it properly. Lost in his own thoughts, he jumped when a woman approached him.

He looked up, and stood glancing at her. He stood there gaping in disbelief, before he closed his mouth quickly. Minerva McGonagall. This was a witch he really had not expected to meet the Ministry of Magic at this time, considering that the Hogwarts Christmas ball. However, it went is soon realized that she was wearing the official dress code to representatives from The Magical Supreme Court, which meant that she was here at the ministerial errand. He hesitated for a moment. The thought of what happened the night he had been involved in sending this remarkable woman to St. Mungo's, haunted him still. What should he say? What could he say? He was almost guilty of the murder that night. In his inner eye, he could almost hear Dolores Umbridge's voice glimmer in his ears: "Stop her! Do not let her interfere!" and then Dawlish hand spun around and fired a stunning spell, without anticipating that his two colleagues and Umbridge herself did the same.

Four spells right in the chest. Many Halers at the wizarding hospital sent him and many others in the Ministry of angry letters concerning claims for financial, medical and personal compensationand, as well as complaints about how stupid they were. Sure, he really regretted to have lifted a wand that night, but he liked to believe that the Headmistress would one day forgive him. When Rufus Scrimgeour took over as Minister for Magic, and John himself was stationed in Hogsmead to give the castle extra protection, he tried repeatedly to use every opportunity he could, when the job brought him within the castle walls to look for her and apologize for his participation. But every time he found himself on the same floor as her, she quickly exused herself, telling others that she had to prepare her next class and walked away in order to avoid him. The glances she had sent was cold and disgusted. He had  sent about twenty letters that year, both after she ended up in St. Mungo's and after she returned, to ask for forgiveness. But he had never received a response.

He shook his head in dizziness, before he cleared his throat and smiled gently. "Madam McGonagall," he hoped that she would perceive him as polite as he tried to be, and if someone would have said he sounded gentle and respectful would they been lying. "Welcome back to our - erm, humble Ministry."  He had just thought of something he was about to forget, so he hurries to speak out before it slips his mind once more. "I'm afraid Mr. Raynor in a meeting with the Department Head of Magical Law Enforcement at the moment. However, I think he should be here in a few minutes. May I offer you something to drink while you wait?" As he waited for a reply, he clasped his hands behind his back and set up a facial expression that looked very official, and looked her straight in the eyes.

Just like that, Minerva was back within the midst of the Second War. The waiting; the anticipation, it was almost unbearable. Never knowing if the next day you’d hear of a mass murdering of former students, or if it would be a group of muggles, never realizing what kinds of evils there really were in the world until it was upon them. The witch shook her head slightly, trying to dispel the negative thoughts. It had been a difficult time on everyone, not just the denizens of Hogwarts, and she’d do well not to dwell on the past.

Absentmindedly, Minerva rubbed a hand across her chest, where pains still plagued her on occasion. Did she truly want to share a cuppa with this bloke? Not particularly. She’d much rather return to her office, remove the stiff maroon robes, and put on something more homey. She couldn’t, however, let her friends down in a moment of need, nor could she continue to ignore the role placed upon her. So, with a slight nod, Minerva steeled her resolve and attempted to be cordial with the man in front of her.

Indeed, he seemed to be genuinely polite. Perhaps he had seen that he was on the losing side of things. Perhaps not, and he was simply appearing kind because of Minerva’s immense pull within the community. In her opinion, Dawlish was lucky to have not been sentenced to Azkaban along with that awful toad Dolores Umbridge. “Perhaps I can wait for just one moment,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “I do need to get back to Hogwarts soon, but I suppose I can spare enough time to enjoy a nice cup of tea. Two sugars, please.”

Then she waited for an invitation to sit. She wasn’t the youngest witch in the room for sure. Sometimes you just need to rest for a few moments.   

John smiled broadly. It had worked! Maybe she would come around after all? He bowed deeply, saying kindly: "If you will follow me," and thus he turned towards the headquarters and began to walk in that direction. When they went through the large oak doors, and the moment after reached is own cubical, he conjured an extra chair with a elegant vawe of his wand. "Please, do sit down." he said gently, doing so himself. Then he reaches for a square little box and opened it. He did not drink that much tea, truth been told. Although - he certainly thought he had a few tea bags to spare. "There is not much to choose from," he said in an apologetic tone of voice, and shoved it toward her. "But take the flavor you like best." He leaned back in his chair and looked at her. "It's not often one sees you outside the castle at this time, Madam." he commented with polite curiosity. "Has something happened?" He leaned forward in style and folded his hands on the little desk between them, and seemed genuinely interested. The clear blue eyes watched her thoughtfully. Just to be sure he did not give the wrong impression, he took out his wand and putted it down in a drawer on the tiny desk between them.

Minerva was far too old to be making reconciliations. She didn’t care for Dawlish, found him to be incompetent in all aspects, and thought he had a rather bland personality. There was a difference between being loyal and being a puppet, and the Hogwarts Headmistress felt that John Dawlish fell extremely in the latter category. Staying loyal to a place and not a cause was dangerous, and it had earned the auror a spot on Minerva’s list of incompetents. She was finding that as she aged, her list grew exponentially.

She followed the aged auror to his cubby and took the proffered seat, like everything else in the auror office; it was practical rather than comfortable. She assumed that most people that visited this part of the Ministry tended to make their visits very brief. When the man pushed a tin of bags in front of her nose, her lips flattened in a tight line. It was blatantly obvious that the man was more of a spirits drinker. The nerve, to offer a proper Scottish witch stale tea from a tin left untouched for Merlin knows how long! Still, she leafed through the bags with a slender finger and plucked out a nice earl gray. Even if it was stale, the strong brew should retain a bit of its caffeinated properties.

Lost in her own discomfort, Minerva didn’t even register that the man had spoken until some moments later. “Oh, nothing you should worry yourself with,” She began rather curtly. “Simple Wizengamot business,” a moment later, Minerva realized that she wasn’t exactly adding to the conversation and winced inwardly. This meeting was awkward enough without her creating unnecessary silences. Just because she wasn’t a fan of the man’s didn’t mean she couldn’t be cordial, she’d spent years dealing with incorrigible parents, she could deal with one measly auror. “What brings you out of retirement?” She asked, the only question she could actually think of that she might relate to.

John tightened his mouth as he saw the witch's expression when he referred to the little box of tea bags, and he swore to himself, but only mentally. Of course he should have had something better to offer than such cheap goods when he was in the presence of such a prominent and respected person. But on the other hand, it's not exactly a scheduled visit either.  "Well, Madam McGonagall -" he began slowly, "A better question is - why I retired in the first place. And I did so out of shame and humiliation." saying not deleted like any attempt to get attention, to be comforted, or that he in any way expected someone to comfort him in any way. It was the voice of a man who had lived many years in sorrow and bitterness. "I actually had no intention of coming back, but I was asked and felt I had to." He sighed heavily and let his hands rest on the table. "I lost my daughter in battle against He who should not be named. She always gave the impression of wanting to be an Auror, and I found out that when it comes down to it, it would be to betray her memory not to fight to protect people, Wizards and Muggles alike." He fell silent, and allowed McGonagall was time to let his words sink in. He wished she kunnese what he felt, that she could understand the trials in which he had been subjected. It could so happen that she would never understand, because as far as he knew, she had never ever lost someone who was close to her. This would of course exclude her lifelong friendship with Albus Dumbledore, but none the less ... There is a difference between losing a friend than to lose your child. He glanced over her shoulder, as if to see if the Head of Department had arrived yet, but he had not. John moved the attention over to McGonagall again.
"But before I say any more ... Can you answer a question?" bright eyes glittered in the pale light that hung from the ceiling of his cubby, his voice trembleling as he continued: "Minerva McGonagall, can you forgive me?"

Minerva looked at the man unblinkingly; unflinchingly. Sure, he had a story, but who didn’t? Who hadn’t lost more than they had gained in the war over Voldemort? She might not have given birth to any children, but she cared about every soul that walked through the doors of Hogwarts as equally as if she had birthed them herself. He had lost a child whilst standing on the sidelines, either too scared or two stupid to take a stand for what is right. He wanted to talk about protecting against evil, both magical and muggle folk, well where had he been when it was needed?

Confusion; disorientation – neither were strong enough excuses to explain away standing on the wrong side for months and countless deaths. Was it something Minerva could ever forgive? Beyond her qualms about his actions during the second war, what about her own personal issues with the man? Her wand hadn’t been raised, no warning was spoken, just four stunners to her chest. An unprovoked attack on a defenseless witch resulting in permanent damage and this man wanted her forgiveness?

In a voice reserved for the hard-to-reach cases, Minerva spoke to the man, “And why, pray tell, should I begin to consider to forgive you?” Her lips closed, eyebrows raised. “Forgiveness is something earned, and what have you done to earn such a gift? A few scraps of parchment with half-hearted apologies? I’ve lived a long life, Mr. Dawlish, and in that time, I can assure you of one thing: words are empty, whereas actions are everything. You lost a daughter in the fight against Voldemort,” A wince, even now at the mention of his name, “One of my students lost both their parents before he could even recognize their faces. Everyone suffered, and even now you say you came back to the auror force out of some loyalty to your daughter. When will you do things because you of your own volition, feel that it’s important?”

Minerva had kept her voice in check, ensuring that only the smallest bit of iciness flitted through her words. “No, John Dawlish, I can not forgive you. Ask again when you’ve earned it.”

Dawlish sat wordless for a moment and just look at her her thoughtfully. then he drew a deep breath and exhaled again. He leaned back in his chair and curled his lips in a guilty grimace. But then it looked like he was on something, he indignantly frowned and leaned forward on the desk, his elbows planted on the table and his hands folded.

"You really do not know..." he said quietly, and it sounded almost as a faint whisper. "You really do not think I was there that night?" he breathed, almost sounding angry, but not at her. At himself. "You do not think I saw He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named meet his end in the final fight against Harry Potter? I did, Madam, I most certainly did."

Dawlish's bright eyes moved to a point over her shoulder, but as he did not spot the Head of the Auror Department, he moved his gaze back at her. "I arrived shortly after Percy Weasly, after I managed to locate the whereabouts to a seceret passage into the castle. I can not believe that you did not see me, professor, I was standing merely a few feets away when I saw you, Shackbolt and professor Slughorn challange Lord Vol - well, you know." he said in a informative sort of voice, meeting her gaze. "I left rather quickly, as I and the few Aurors that was left went to capture the Death Eaters who fled in  panic after their Master's demise."

The scowl on Minerva’s face furrowed even deeper with the Auror’s comments. She didn’t know? Of all people alive today, surely she was one of the ones that knew best! It took quite a bit to get a rise out of Minerva McGonagall, but today she was finding the rage easy to produce and very difficult to hold back. “So what?” She asked the man scathingly. “You showed for the final battle, finally made a stand where a stand was needed, good for you. Where were you when we, the Order of the Phoenix, were working diligently to thwart the Dark Lord’s progress? Where were you while the Ministry ran both my good friend and colleague’s name into the ground and stripped him of everything but his sanity?”

Minerva’s hands gripped the arms of the chair tightly, knuckles turning white. “You picked a side, great. The only problem is, you picked a side too late. And I’m sorry if you’re offended that I didn’t notice you, but I think you’ll find that I was more focused on those that hadn’t made it than those that did.” Minerva shut her lips tight, brow wrinkled in frustration. This conversation was going nowhere… at least nowhere positive, and the last thing Minerva needed was to lose her cool in a room full of heavily armed aurors so shortly after regaining her post at Hogwarts.

John frowned, but he did not look angry. It seemed more like - regret. His mouth tightened, and he sounded neither accusatory or surprised by her outbreak.

"I was the only place I could be, Madam McGonagall." he said quietly, without taking his eyes away from her.

"In the British Ministry of Magic, completely oblivious to the very exsistence of the Order of the Phoenix. None of you even considered the possibility that I could have been a potential ally, and Shackbolt told me nothing, loyal as he is to the Order. So - yes, I actually believed Dumbledore's statements about the return of He Who Must Not Be Named, but at the time, Fudge had made it clear that anyone who expressed support of Harry Potter or Professor Dumbledore could just clear their desks at once, and I had to provide for my family, so unlike you, I had nothing to gain by risking my job. If Dumbledore had taken me in, things would indeed have been different. I could have done more. Ask yourself what you would do if you were placed in my position?"

He sighed heavily, and leaned back. "And in addition, when we were first asked to arrest Dumbledore, why do you think I just gave it a half-hearted attempt? I am a highly trained Auror, Madam, and thus very good in magic."

He allowed himself a slight smile, before he continued:

Why,  Albus Dumbledore undoubtedly would have defeated me, but I can guarantee that I would not have gone down as easily as I did that night, where I did not even fire a spell. I tried to give you a signal on my opinion, but it was apparently not perceived."

John was silent for a moment, and met her gaze with even more intesity than before. When she said nothing, he continued:

"Why do you think I advised Umbridge to order us to just stun Rubeus Hagrid? Because I was supposed to have "Considered most correct according to Auror Protocol"? I read Rita Skeeter's article, and I knew he was a Half-Giant. So I realized of course that a Stunning Spell would not work on him. She called him a Half-Breed, and believe me, she was insane on that subject. Who knows what she might have ordered us to do, if she had not trust me due to my possision as the Minister's personal bodyguard?"

Minerva let out a long, slow breath. She should never have accepted the man’s invitation for a spot of tea, it was turning out to be an unproductive meeting and the only thing she was gaining from the experience was high blood pressure. She waited for the man to finish speaking, and when he did, Minerva replied in the calmest of voices she could muster.

“While you were worried about risking your job, others were worried about risking their lives and those of their families.” Her eyes saddened at the thought, “Children as young as eleven years old were either on the run or locked away in Azkaban for being just who they were, and all the while, you were a part of the Ministry. A Ministry more flawed than could ever have had hope to be right, and yet you sit before me and tell me that you were silently rooting for us? Preposterous.”

“You took the word of a reporter, a reporter that has lied throughout her career for power and it almost cost me my life. You have made mistakes, but haven’t we all?” Minerva asked the man, rising to her feet and stowing her hands in the folds of fabric that made up her robes. “You were a pawn of the Ministry, Dawlish, and for you to think anything else is lying to yourself. I just hope, for your sake, that retirement has changed you.”

And with that, Minerva turned on her heel and strode purposefully from the Auror headquarters. She’d simply have Madam Raynor owl the file to her at the earliest possible convenience.