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alt_mcgonagallWell.
My plan to smoke out Macnair and his malefactors succeeded admirably; that, at least, is an unqualified truth. The events surrounding could have - well, I could have wished for different, let us say.
As some of you know, I resolved to smoke Macnair out by hiding in wait for him at the Stone's hiding place. I did so; apparently, Marvolo interpreted Perks' information about Macnair's pennywhistle and my absence as providing a perfect chance for Macnair to do - something. He was not very clear about that, after.
In any case, I had secreted myself in the last room of the suite, and could not risk coming into the open to help the children as they went; I was only able to sit, and wait, for Macnair to emerge. He brought Quirrell with him. It seems that the Lord Protector found a better use for him than prison; it's true that to a gibbering brain-dead creature as Quirrell was when the interrogations were over, prison would hardly have constituted punishment. Some sort of Inferius, I said - perhaps a better term would be 'zombi,' or even 'vessel,' for I believe he was possessed on some level. Quirrell and Macnair were distracted and dull; they didn't find what I had left in the final room for them - not the Stone, but rather the 'sceptre with the dove,' which I went to some pains to discover after the dispersal of the Crown Jewels. I had been - still am - planning to give it to the Lord Protector, with suitable enchantments on it, at a later date - perhaps for his next birthday.
I couldn't direct their attention to it; I could only wait and watch as - horribly - Quirrell brought a mirror from his pocket and Engorged it. It seems that the Lord Protector had developed some kind of piggy-backing enchantment to use the Mirror of Erised as a mode of communication - I had thought that mirrors like that were strictly the province of fairy-stories, but apparently not. At the time, I was waiting, unable to move or see what was going on; but now I can tell you that Marvolo and Miss Granger had entered the room, invisible, and were watching along with me as Quirrell and Macnair began to argue with the Lord Protector. I believe that the Lord Protector could not decide whether he believed I was guilty of hiding something from him or not; he threatened death to me and to Macnair alternately, in one of his rages, as he is wont to behave. It seems that Macnair had told him I was hiding something, perhaps as a way of ingratiating himself - though just why is beyond me.
Then - to me, it appeared that Marvolo leapt out from under the invisibility cloak, utterly without prompting, and dove over to the niche where I had secreted the sceptre! They examined it - benign, of course - and the Lord Protector seemed satisfied that I was merely preparing it for him. I had engraved it with some suitably sycophantic inscription suggesting that it was an oblation at the Lord Protector's altar, naturally. He promised death to Macnair and Quirrell shrank the mirror; the mirror was only a communication portal, then, and not a travelling sort; Merlin knows we don't need another possible security leak, so that at least is a relief.
What Marvolo told me later, you see, is that he was able to see his heart's desire in the Mirror as well as his Father. I shall always remember what he said to me in my office then: 'I think you'd better have this.' And from his pocket he draws the Stone. Well - not the Stone in its natural form, of course, but its Transfigured form. I could not think how he had picked it from the mass of things I had jumbled together in that room, but he said, 'it was my mother's handkerchief - well, it wasn't, is it? It must be something else you Transfigured, something very important. I think it's what Macnair wanted.' Oh I am telling this in a jumble, aren't I? It seems Marvolo had picked it up on his way through the jumble-room almost by chance, remembering it from a previous encounter with the Mirror of Erised as his mother's. Then, when he looked in the mirror, his father (James Potter I mean) showed him what it was - and told him somehow not to tell the Lord Protector. When I asked Marvolo how he knew to trust the Mirror's image, he looked quite uncomfortable and wouldn't answer. I have never wished more to be a Legilimens.
But the key and crucial part comes at the denouement. Just as I was wondering whether the situation would resolve itself, Macnair began to speak - convinced Marvolo to get his wand back from Quirrell, now standing with his strings cut, having completed his mission I suppose - Quirrell had confiscated it, at the Lord Protector's order. He must not have realised how useless Quirrell would become when his primary function had been completed, not understood the spell-workings fully enough. So Marvolo did and Macnair cursed him - not an Unforgivable curse but something rather more immobilising and humiliating than deathly. I tried to jump out, but I hadn't left myself enough space in my hidey-hole - I was stuck and could only watch as Miss Granger jumped out herself and Stunned Macnair. It seems she had had the presence of mind to lift the Malfoy boy's wand off his body, and that their turn of minds are similar enough that his wand worked perfectly well in her hand, though later she told me it felt a bit sluggish.
That brings us to the end of our tale, of course: Macnair in a cell, awaiting decisions to be made about him, and Granger in a much plusher one next to him, though ensorcelled so that it won't appear so to any who wander in. We cannot avoid the terrible trouble she will be in; I was forced to inform the Lord Protector of her actions. He would have had it from Macnair in any case. I imagine it shall be mitigated somewhat by the fact that she did it all in defense of Marvolo, if only no one asks how she learned to do a stunning spell in the first place. Marvolo seemed all right at first; he managed to get himself out under his own power - but after debriefing, he utterly collapsed. I daresay the curse was less benign than it had seemed at first, and that he was overexcited. Poppy tells me that he shall be a long while sleeping it off, but ought to be awake in time for the end-of-year feast on Monday afternoon; well and good. And I carrying the Stone around in my pocket, in the form of a handkerchief with initials that are not my own broidered upon it. I shall have to destroy it when I have half-a-breath. It has no purpose now - not to keep anyone alive, and we have been round and round on the matter of using it enough. Albus, if you are reading this - I could very much use your advice on the matter.
Merlin, what a day.
My plan to smoke out Macnair and his malefactors succeeded admirably; that, at least, is an unqualified truth. The events surrounding could have - well, I could have wished for different, let us say.
As some of you know, I resolved to smoke Macnair out by hiding in wait for him at the Stone's hiding place. I did so; apparently, Marvolo interpreted Perks' information about Macnair's pennywhistle and my absence as providing a perfect chance for Macnair to do - something. He was not very clear about that, after.
In any case, I had secreted myself in the last room of the suite, and could not risk coming into the open to help the children as they went; I was only able to sit, and wait, for Macnair to emerge. He brought Quirrell with him. It seems that the Lord Protector found a better use for him than prison; it's true that to a gibbering brain-dead creature as Quirrell was when the interrogations were over, prison would hardly have constituted punishment. Some sort of Inferius, I said - perhaps a better term would be 'zombi,' or even 'vessel,' for I believe he was possessed on some level. Quirrell and Macnair were distracted and dull; they didn't find what I had left in the final room for them - not the Stone, but rather the 'sceptre with the dove,' which I went to some pains to discover after the dispersal of the Crown Jewels. I had been - still am - planning to give it to the Lord Protector, with suitable enchantments on it, at a later date - perhaps for his next birthday.
I couldn't direct their attention to it; I could only wait and watch as - horribly - Quirrell brought a mirror from his pocket and Engorged it. It seems that the Lord Protector had developed some kind of piggy-backing enchantment to use the Mirror of Erised as a mode of communication - I had thought that mirrors like that were strictly the province of fairy-stories, but apparently not. At the time, I was waiting, unable to move or see what was going on; but now I can tell you that Marvolo and Miss Granger had entered the room, invisible, and were watching along with me as Quirrell and Macnair began to argue with the Lord Protector. I believe that the Lord Protector could not decide whether he believed I was guilty of hiding something from him or not; he threatened death to me and to Macnair alternately, in one of his rages, as he is wont to behave. It seems that Macnair had told him I was hiding something, perhaps as a way of ingratiating himself - though just why is beyond me.
Then - to me, it appeared that Marvolo leapt out from under the invisibility cloak, utterly without prompting, and dove over to the niche where I had secreted the sceptre! They examined it - benign, of course - and the Lord Protector seemed satisfied that I was merely preparing it for him. I had engraved it with some suitably sycophantic inscription suggesting that it was an oblation at the Lord Protector's altar, naturally. He promised death to Macnair and Quirrell shrank the mirror; the mirror was only a communication portal, then, and not a travelling sort; Merlin knows we don't need another possible security leak, so that at least is a relief.
What Marvolo told me later, you see, is that he was able to see his heart's desire in the Mirror as well as his Father. I shall always remember what he said to me in my office then: 'I think you'd better have this.' And from his pocket he draws the Stone. Well - not the Stone in its natural form, of course, but its Transfigured form. I could not think how he had picked it from the mass of things I had jumbled together in that room, but he said, 'it was my mother's handkerchief - well, it wasn't, is it? It must be something else you Transfigured, something very important. I think it's what Macnair wanted.' Oh I am telling this in a jumble, aren't I? It seems Marvolo had picked it up on his way through the jumble-room almost by chance, remembering it from a previous encounter with the Mirror of Erised as his mother's. Then, when he looked in the mirror, his father (James Potter I mean) showed him what it was - and told him somehow not to tell the Lord Protector. When I asked Marvolo how he knew to trust the Mirror's image, he looked quite uncomfortable and wouldn't answer. I have never wished more to be a Legilimens.
But the key and crucial part comes at the denouement. Just as I was wondering whether the situation would resolve itself, Macnair began to speak - convinced Marvolo to get his wand back from Quirrell, now standing with his strings cut, having completed his mission I suppose - Quirrell had confiscated it, at the Lord Protector's order. He must not have realised how useless Quirrell would become when his primary function had been completed, not understood the spell-workings fully enough. So Marvolo did and Macnair cursed him - not an Unforgivable curse but something rather more immobilising and humiliating than deathly. I tried to jump out, but I hadn't left myself enough space in my hidey-hole - I was stuck and could only watch as Miss Granger jumped out herself and Stunned Macnair. It seems she had had the presence of mind to lift the Malfoy boy's wand off his body, and that their turn of minds are similar enough that his wand worked perfectly well in her hand, though later she told me it felt a bit sluggish.
That brings us to the end of our tale, of course: Macnair in a cell, awaiting decisions to be made about him, and Granger in a much plusher one next to him, though ensorcelled so that it won't appear so to any who wander in. We cannot avoid the terrible trouble she will be in; I was forced to inform the Lord Protector of her actions. He would have had it from Macnair in any case. I imagine it shall be mitigated somewhat by the fact that she did it all in defense of Marvolo, if only no one asks how she learned to do a stunning spell in the first place. Marvolo seemed all right at first; he managed to get himself out under his own power - but after debriefing, he utterly collapsed. I daresay the curse was less benign than it had seemed at first, and that he was overexcited. Poppy tells me that he shall be a long while sleeping it off, but ought to be awake in time for the end-of-year feast on Monday afternoon; well and good. And I carrying the Stone around in my pocket, in the form of a handkerchief with initials that are not my own broidered upon it. I shall have to destroy it when I have half-a-breath. It has no purpose now - not to keep anyone alive, and we have been round and round on the matter of using it enough. Albus, if you are reading this - I could very much use your advice on the matter.
Merlin, what a day.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-07 04:14 am (UTC)Stunned doesn't even begin to cover it. Speechless, astounded? Also frantic for all your safety, and inordinately proud of our Hermione and Harry, of course.
Needless to say, watch your back, Minerva. Sounds like you've quite a nest of vipers in the castle tonight.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-07 04:43 am (UTC)everyone's in one piece, the stone is safe, that's a start.
sorry for getting shirty earlier with you and Poppy.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-07 05:34 am (UTC)It sounds as though Hermione, Harry and even Draco Malfoy all worked together to make a remarkable team. That is surprising.
Malfoy Senior is making threats, I see, blast the man. Courage, Minerva. Let us know what ends up being decided, and we'll cope with it, whatever it is.
And if you can snatch a chance for a private word with Hermione, whisper in her ear that Molly and I say: well done!
Order Only: Morning
Date: 2009-06-07 01:13 pm (UTC)The children are fine. Both are sleeping peacefully now, although young Marvolo woke very early this morning, groggy and quite concerned about Miss Granger. I gave him a draught to help him back to sleep. I have no doubt, however, that he is mending quickly and will be quite well when he wakes again.
The more difficult task, as you'll have gathered, has been tending to the parents of the other one. The father was as edgy as a rat in a box of cats, and at precisely half-two this morning, he leapt up and strode out of the ward 'to attend to things'. The mother, of course, has made a veritable opera of the situation. An opera consisting only of arias and swooning, of course. I finally slipped her a light draught in one of the cups of 'tisane' she had me brew her. She's snoring gently on her silken pillows as I write.
I confess that I was rather glad when, shortly before midnight, our private clinic was interrupted by a crew of sixth- and seventh-years whose stomachs objected to their evening's end-of-term overindulgence. They were a welcome distraction from waiting attendance on the Marquis of Wormwood and his Lady--and they had the good grace to all belong to Slytherin house, which cut short the withering commentary from the sidelines, I can assure you.
I'm sorry. I'm a bit punchy this morning, I'm afraid. But you don't need me nattering on at you when I'm sure you've had no sleep and less respite from your duties to the Protector.
Shall He wish to visit his son this morning? I'm afraid the lad will not be awake, but that's no impediment should He wish to see that the boy is mending well.
Re: Order Only: Morning
Date: 2009-06-07 02:48 pm (UTC)And once my aunt arrives on the scene, watch out.