In the Light of the Stars (Incomplete)

In the Light of the Stars (Incomplete)  

ONE – Unusual Circumstances

Augusta dropped an envelope on Minerva's bed. 'It's all been arranged,' she told her. 'Thank you.' Minerva spared a glance at the envelope bearing an official Ministry seal. Augusta sighed and dropped to the foot of Minerva's neatly made bed. 'Minnie, are you quite certain you want to do this?' 'I am.' 'It's dangerous,' Augusta argued. Minerva set her Transfiguration textbook aside. 'I'm quite aware o' the danger, Gussie,' she said evenly. 'I still don't understand why you feel the need to do something like this.' Minerva looked down and twisted the silver claddagh ring around her finger. 'I hae my reasons.' 'You could be killed,' Augusta stated, in one last attempt to dissuade Minerva from doing what she felt was foolish. 'Aye.' Minerva's calm voice belied her fear. She reached for the envelope and used her wand to slice it open, tipping the folded parchment into her hand. She scanned the note quickly, and nodded to herself. 'I'm to report as soon as the train arrives in London,' she said quietly. A line appeared between her brows and she frowned. No chance to return to her valley, nor the Devil's Staircase. She wanted so badly to go back, just once, so she could remember. But duty pulled at her, as insistent as the longing to stand on the edge of the rise overlooking Loch Leven, with Lock Linnhe to her left. An errant lock of dark hair tumbled from the combs over her ears, falling into her eyes. She impatiently blew it out of her face. Augusta watched her intently, waiting for some sort of emotion to cross that stoic façade. 'Minnie…' Minerva's head shook slightly, and she stared at a point somewhere behind Augusta. 'I canna… I ha' hoped I could stay out o' it. Then he died. I canna pretend it doesna affect me, aye?' Augusta tried one more tack. 'You don't have to join them,' she said softly. 'There are other ways you can help.' 'No.' Minerva's voice was firm. 'There isna any other way for me to do this.' xxxxx Angus McGonagall stood on the platform, arms crossed over his chest. A hulking presence in the shadows – an image only enhanced by the dark cloak he wore and the wild growth of dark beard obscuring the lower half of his face. He waited for the train bearing his daughter and only child. While the chances of Minerva dying during this terrible war were far fewer than Muggles, there was still a chance. Bombs killed magical folk as surely as it killed non-magical folk. The images of the Blitz were still fresh in his mind, even though the Germans had mostly stopped bombing England. He leaned against a pillar, patiently waiting for the younger children to be escorted off the train by Aurors. At length, Minerva left the train; dragging her trunk behind her and carrying a smaller case in her other hand. Angus unfolded his arms and enveloped her in a rare public embrace. 'Ciamar a tha thu, Minnie?' he asked in his customary greeting. 'Tha mi gle mhath, Da…' 'Truly?' Angus' arms tightened briefly. He remembered the hollow eyed expression she'd worn during the Easter holiday. 'Aye, Da, I am…' 'When do ye hae to report?'

file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/In%20the%20Light%20of%20the%20Stars%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:08]

'Now.' Angus blinked. He cupped his daughter's face in one large hand and brushed a thumb over the arch of her cheekbone. 'I shall worry about ye.' 'I know.' Angus made to take Minerva's trunk. 'Shall I walk wi' ye to the Ministry, lass?' Minerva head moved slowly from side to side. 'I want t' do this on my own, aye?' Her jaw clenched stubbornly. 'I hae t' go alone.' Angus nodded once. 'Ye'll write to me, then,' he pronounced. 'As often as I can.' Minerva's sweaty hand slipped around the handle of her case. Her arm stole around her father's neck and she leaned into Angus, tasting the scent of the Highlands for what seemed like one last time. xxxxx The Auxiliary Territorial Service uniform was bulky and slightly itchy. Not to mention an unflattering shade of khaki that reminded her of bogies. Even her school uniform was fitted better. Sighing, Minerva trudged down the street, keeping a wary eye on the skies overhead. She could make alterations to it when she settled into her quarters. Soon enough, the nondescript brick building loomed in the middle of the street, surrounded by piles of rubble. Minerva raised her hand and knocked soundly on the scarred wooden door. It opened just enough for her to slip through. Raucous music spilled through. Blaring trumpets and wailing saxophones bounced in a melody that brought to mind packed ballrooms, filled with frenetically dancing couples. Minerva's lips pursed disapprovingly. The music was unseemly. She edged through the door and it closed behind her. A young man leapt to his feet from the sofa where he'd been lounging. 'Hi!' he shouted over the music, jabbing his wand at the wireless. The volume lowered to a less deafening level and he held a hand out toward Minerva. 'Captain John Hashimoto. Sacramento, California.' Minerva firmly shook his hand. 'Sub-Leader Minerva McGonagall.' She released the hand. 'It's a pleasure to meet you, Captain.' He grinned. 'Call me Jack. Only my mom calls me John.' 'If you insist,' Minerva replied stiffly. Jack Hashimoto slid his hands into his pockets and grinned impudently at Minerva. 'So is Min…? Minnie?' 'It's Minerva.' 'Oooooh. So formal,' he murmured, his eyes twinkling with amusement. 'And feisty. I like that.' Minerva's eyes narrowed. 'I'm here to contribute to the war effort. Not fraternize.' 'Got someone, then?' Jack indicated the ring she wore on her left hand. She felt her face freeze. 'I did. He died in North Africa. Kasserine.' Jack's mobile features stilled. 'I'm so sorry.' Minerva nodded. 'Thank you.' She spared a glance for the claddagh ring that she'd switched to her left hand the day she'd buried Alasdair. They stood in silence for a long moment, then Jack jerked his head toward the back of the house. 'Let me introduce you to the rest of the guys.' 'Guys?' 'Oh, yeah. What is it you say? Blokes?' 'I take that to mean I am the only woman here?' file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/In%20the%20Light%20of%20the%20Stars%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:08]

'Sorry about that… There's supposed to be another witch coming from the States next month.' Minerva blinked. 'Very well.' Jack turned and beckoned to her. 'Come on, then.' He strode purposefully into another room, occupied by only a few younger men. 'This is Lieutenant Reginald Davis.' A tall, lanky dark-skinned man rose from his chair. 'Ma'am.' He held out a hand to Minerva. She took it, startled at how his hand enveloped hers. 'Lieutenant.' Reginald burst into deep rumbles of laughter. 'It's Reggie. Not Lieutenant. And only my mama calls me Reginald, and that's when I'm in enough trouble to get hexed into next Tuesday.' He gave Minerva's hand a quick squeeze. 'Hey, Jack… Mama still loves me. Sent cookies in the package we got today.' 'Oh, thank God,' Jack breathed. 'We can save our rations.' 'Ye hae rationin'?' Minerva blurted, shocked. 'Yeah,' Jack said nonchalantly. 'Wouldn't do for us to eat like kings, while the Muggle boys at the front get rations. We're in this together.' Minerva's mouth snapped shut. 'O' course.' 'You just get outta school?' Reggie asked. 'Two days ago.' 'How old are you?' Jack snorted. 'Age is naught but a number,' Minerva retorted. 'But as a matter o' fact, I am eighteen.' 'Eighteen,' echoed Reggie. 'Good Lord, girl, you're still a baby!' The gaze Minerva turned on him could have created icicles on the noses of an entire Quidditch team. But Reggie was made of sterner stuff. He returned it, his dark, hooded eyes betraying nothing. Jack's eyes flicked from Minerva to Reggie. He put a hand on Minerva's arm, and drew her back. 'Lieutenant Antonio Lopez,' he told her, gesturing toward another man behind Reggie. 'Call me Tony.' 'Tony…' Minerva inclined her head, unwilling to say more. Jack ran his hand over his spiky hair, sighing in frustration. 'I'll show you where you'll sleep.' He clamped a hand around Minerva's elbow and steered her up two flights of stairs. 'I'll thank ye to let go o' my arm!' Minerva hissed, attempting to yank her elbow from Jack's grip. He ignored her, and calmly guided her into a small room off the second landing. 'This is your room. Isn't much, but it's better than…' Jack's lips clamped shut, and he flicked his wand at the small camp bed. Linens and a rough blanket spread themselves over it, the ends folding and tucking themselves under the mattress. 'I'm sure it's been a rough couple of days, all kinds of information been thrown at you, and you need time to process it all and settle in. Supper won't be for a couple of hours, so if you want to catch a few winks…' 'I beg your pardon?' 'Get some rest.' Jack spun around and went down the stairs, his footsteps echoing hollowly behind him. Minerva sank to the edge of the camp bed, her icy hands locked together to prevent them from shaking. xxxxx

file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/In%20the%20Light%20of%20the%20Stars%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:08]

Dinner was a quiet affair. Tony, Reggie, and Jack were deep in a discussion of some Muggle sport involving cardinals and Yankees. What sort of sport involved birds and a somewhat derogatory word for Americans? There was even mention of the color of their socks, but Minerva couldn't understand for the life of her why it mattered if the team in Chicago wore white socks and the team in Boston red ones. It made her head ache. Jack saw Minerva pick at her meal from the corner of his eye, and he silently gestured toward Minerva with his chin. Reggie looked at him in disbelief, his expression seeming to broadcast his distaste at engaging her in conversation. Tony nudged Reggie with a sharp elbow, and Reggie rolled his eyes. Jack hastily gulped from his water glass to cover the chuckles that threatened to erupt. He merely coughed and spluttered as he choked. 'Are ye quite all right?' Minerva asked quietly. Jack coughed a few more times, and nodded. 'Yeah.' Tony leaned forward. 'So, Minerva… Where are you from?' 'Some wee village ye've never heard of. The closest city is Fort William.' 'Where's that?' Jack asked. 'Scotland.' 'Obviously,' Reggie muttered. 'Could spread that accent on toast…' 'I havena got an accent,' Minerva retorted tartly. 'Ye're the one wi' an accent!' 'What were you planning to do before you joined the war effort?' Jack asked quickly, before Minerva and Reggie could begin landing verbal blows. 'International Magical Law.' 'Wow.' Jack's mouth opened slightly. International Magical Law was considered dreadfully boring in his social circles. 'And the three of ye?' Minerva asked politely. 'Aurors,' Tony said, with a hint of pride. 'We trained together.' Reggie pushed corned beef around his plate. 'Luckier than my cousins,' he muttered. Minerva glanced questioningly at Jack, but he merely shook his head. Reggie shook himself, rather like a wet and shaggy dog. 'Your folks magic?' 'They were.' Minerva slid her plate aside. 'Are,' she corrected herself. 'My mum died when I was a little girl, and my da still lives in the village where I was born.' Her fingers idly caressed the ring on her finger. 'My fiancé was a Muggle.' 'Was?' Tony's hand stilled over his half-eaten meal. 'Kasserine,' Jack said softly. 'Oh…' Tony's head bowed briefly. Silence enveloped the small table. Minerva's mouth pressed into a tight line, and her chair scraped against the scarred wooden floor. 'If you'll excuse me…' She fled the table and retreated to the small bedroom under the eaves. The setting sun sparked over the small silver ring and she slid across the camp bed, so her back braced against the wall. Instead of the faded wallpaper, she saw her valley, blanketed with a desolate, frigid mist. Alasdair had no family, but he had, with Minerva's consent, listed her as one who would see to things should he not survive. She had been the one to make the arrangements when his body had finally completed its final journey from the shores of North Africa back home to Scotland. Professor Dippet had allowed her to leave school for a week, citing her rather unusual situation. Alasdair's things had been waiting in a neat, brown-paper wrapped parcel, set precisely in the middle of her bed. Minerva had buried him near her mother. She didn't think Flora would have minded. It took the rest of the week for Minerva to work up the courage to unknot the twine and spread the paper to reveal his kilt, plaid, and Muggle photographs of her and the two of them, the edges beginning to fray. It was staggering to realize all of his

file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/In%20the%20Light%20of%20the%20Stars%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:08]

personal effects could fit in her schoolbag and she would still have room for her Transfiguration books. And yet, she hadn't shed a single tear. Not that terrible day Dumbledore had called her into his office with the news Alasdair had died. Not the grey morning standing next to a gaping hole in the ground, pelted by heavy sleet that stung her exposed skin. And still not while she sketchily washed and donned her nightdress, then crawled into the narrow camp bed, making sure the blackout curtains were firmly in place, blocking even the dim view of the stars above London xxxxx Minerva's fingers wrapped around the handle of her wand at the sound of a heavy tread on the stairs. The door opened with a crash and the odor of stale beer crept into the room. She kept her eyes tightly shut, feigning sleep, curled in a ball, with her back to the door. A body dropped ponderously on the edge of the camp bed and curled around her rigid body. 'Mmmmmm. How you doin'?' the man murmured, pressing a wet, slobbery kiss to the back of Minerva's neck. Wordlessly, Minerva jabbed her wand over her shoulder and the man went flying across the room and slammed into the wall. 'I am well, thank you,' she said archly. Jack, Tony, and Reggie appeared on the threshold, wands out and held out in front of them, in varying stages of dress. Jack lowered his wand. 'Frankie…' he sighed. 'Go to bed.' 'Who th' hell is tha'?' Frankie slurred, pointing an accusing finger at Minerva. 'She's the new one I told you about,' Jack sighed, offering his fellow soldier a hand, and pulled him to his feet. 'The one with the Tommies.' 'She hexed me…' 'She didn't hex you,' Tony snickered. 'She should have, rather than just Banish your smelly ass across the room.' Frankie pursed his lips and blew a kiss to Tony. 'Love ya, Tony…' he wheezed. Jack handed Frankie off to Reggie. 'Put him to bed,' he ordered. 'Should we leave him something for the hangover?' Tony asked softly. Jack studied Frankie, emanating more alcohol fumes than a pub at last call. 'No,' he said finally, knowing he was going to hear about it when Frankie sobered up, and quit feeling as if he'd been hit by a train. He waited for Tony and Reggie to drag a protesting Frankie from the small room, then shut the door. 'Could you put something else on?' he asked Minerva, gesturing to her nightdress. Bemused, Minerva glanced down. The nightdress was not what she would term particularly exotic or even erotic. Made of white flannel with faint blue stripes, it had long sleeves, and fell well past her knees, and was in fact quite shapeless. But she reached for Alasdair's plaid, draped over the straight-backed chair next to the bed, and wrapped it around her shoulders. Satisfied she was decently covered, Jack pointed to the mussed camp bed. 'Sit down,' he ordered. A hard light in Minerva's eyes flared. 'I dinna hae t' tae orders from ye!' she hissed. Jack took a step toward her, his face set. 'I am the ranking officer here,' he said levelly. 'And while you are here, you will do what I say.' Their noses hovered scant inches apart. 'Sit. Down.' Minerva's mouth thinned even further, but she sank to the edge of the bed. Jack pulled the chair around and straddled it, folding his arms across the back. 'Banishing Frankie… That's fine. He's been known to take a stroll through every pub that's still open. But he's never gotten into the wrong bed before. I'll make sure he apologizes to you in the morning.' He took a deep breath. 'You have to try and get along with the rest of us, even if you don't like us.' Minerva glared at Jack with narrowed eyes. 'How old are ye?' she asked. 'Everyone seems to be verra concerned wi' my age, so I'm askin' ye: how old are ye?' 'Twenty-two.' 'Young t' be a rankin' officer.' Minerva idly examined her fingernails.

file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/In%20the%20Light%20of%20the%20Stars%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:08]

'I finished in the top of my class at Salem,' Jack told her hotly. 'Not just the San Francisco school, either. All of them. Did you hear that? All of them. And I was the best one in my class in the Auror program. I got the best grades on everything. Because I'm good. And I work hard. And I'm damn lucky to be here. My parents are in some hellhole in the middle of nowhere in Utah. And why? Because my grandparents are from Japan. Both my parents were born in Sacramento. My dad doesn't even speak Japanese and my mom only knows the dirty words. My sister and I would rather have fried chicken or burgers than miso soup. But that didn't matter once Pearl Harbor was bombed. I had to leave the training program in New York and go back to California to help my family pack up their things, so the U.S. government could force them out of the home I lived in my whole life, but I still chose to join up.' 'Ye couldna just leave?' 'Could you?' Jack shook his head. 'We're not like you. We're part of the country, not just in it like you over here. We couldn't just defy the government. 'The reason why Frankie drinks like a sailor on leave is that his family hasn't heard from his grandparents, cousins, and several aunts and uncles in over a year. They used to get letters through the Red Cross. Not anymore. They could be alive, dead… He's here to try and find them. We know what's going on in eastern Europe. But we have to work within the confines of what the Army will let us do. 'Tony's family helped found his hometown. They've been there since seventeen eighteen. One of his ancestors died in the Alamo…' 'The what?' 'Get Tony to tell you the story. Either way, the man was a wizard, but there was only one of him, and the opposing army had an advantage of twenty soldiers to their one. The point is, out of all four of us, Tony's family's been there longer than mine, Reggie's, or Frankie's. 'Reggie grew up in North Carolina, and should have gone to the school in Roanoke, Virginia. He wasn't allowed. He had to go all the way to Salem. His mother was the first witch or wizard in his family to be trained in over a hundred years. 'We don't take what we have for granted. That's why we're here.' Jack stood up and pushed the chair back to its place next to the Minerva's bed. 'We know what's at stake if we lose. And I mean we – all of us… Muggle and magic alike.' He strode to the door and laid a hand on the doorknob. 'We have to work together in very close quarters. So we have to learn to live with each other. Now, I happen to like your… spirit… But you have got to take that pole out of your rear end. Or it's going to be hell for the next… Well, however long we're here.' He opened the door and nodded at her. 'Good night, Minerva.'  

TWO – Morale

Minerva regarded her grimy hands ruefully, picking at the caked grease in her cuticles. She wasn't what she would define as particularly vain, but she was horrified at the effect of learning to repair automobiles had on her hands. Three nails broken, another two torn to the quick – she could feel the torn nails throbbing in time with her pulse. Several times, she irritably pushed her hair from her face, vowing for the hundredth time to just be done with it and cut the lot. Jack, Reggie, and Tony were off doing Merlin-knew-what for the war. Planning some sort of invasion of France. It was still at least a year away, but it made Minerva seethe inwardly that she was reduced to doing menial chores, like automobile repairs, escorting other women delivering ammunition and firearms. She had been made to learn Muggle first-aid techniques, operate searchlights, and was even being taught the rudiments of operating the telephone. She could concede what she did was important, but Minerva had hoped she would be more involved in planning things like that, but apparently, being a woman in this endeavor disqualified her from being able to do more than fix a flat tire on a jeep. Minerva kicked at a fragment of brick, aiming her frustrations at it, rather than the house full of boys. They seemed to get a bit tetchy if she displayed her temper. So far, she had managed to keep her father from visiting, but Angus wasn't going to stay away much longer. He'd sent a Howler when she'd first written to him, demanding she return home immediately. He didn't see why she needed to deprive herself with rationing and risk malnutrition. Furthermore, the Howler had fairly vibrated with indignation from Angus that Minerva was the lone woman in the house with four young men. Not just any young men. Four randy Yanks. Because everyone knew Yanks were the epitome of licentiousness and were prone to lewdness. Minerva had

file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/In%20the%20Light%20of%20the%20Stars%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:08]

been required to stifle several giggles at that notion. Not only had none of the boys so much as attempted to touch her – well, not since that first night when Frankie had drunkenly stumbled into her bedroom – but they positively avoided the landing with the bath at all costs if she were anywhere near it. Being relegated to a glorified mechanic and escort was the least of Minerva's worries. The Ministry had sent her a letter that morning. She was going to be assigned to the detail that escorted Queen Elizabeth on her jaunts through London, and half the week, Minerva would spend the night at Windsor Castle, outside of London, helping to guard the royal family. It set her teeth on edge to add "Queen and Princess Minder" to her list of duties that had little to do with what Minerva believed she would do when she joined the war effort. Minerva opened the door of the house and grimaced at the smudge she left on the knob. The boys were gathered around the wireless, listening to their president. Jack usually had to be forcibly restrained from calling the man several unrepeatable names. Tony glanced up at the sound of her boots striking the floor and did a double-take. His lips twitched violently, and he began coughing to cover the abrupt laugh. Jack, Frankie, and Reggie turned to see what Tony was laughing at, and Reggie clapped a hand over his mouth. Frankie bit his lip and gazed at the ceiling. 'What?' Minerva snapped. 'Hae I somethin' on my face? A great bogie, perhaps?' 'I have no idea what a bogie is,' Jack managed to say with a perfectly straight face. 'But you've got a little something right there…' He gestured with one had at his cheek. Minerva's lips pressed together, and she dug a handkerchief from the pocket of her trousers, and rubbed it over her cheekbone. 'Did I get it all…?' Tony, having sufficiently gathered his wits, took pity on the poor witch. 'Minerva, why don't you go upstairs and wash up for supper? he suggested. 'It looks like you've had a rough day…' 'Think she's got enough soap?' Reggie whispered. 'That's every day this week she's had to come home and clean up like that…' Minerva stiffened. 'I hae enough soap,' she said stiffly. 'My da sent a cake to me.' With that, she spun on her heel and stalked up the stairs, footsteps echoing behind her, until the bathroom door slammed shut. Jack regarded Reggie thoughtfully. 'The two of you are going to have to stop growling and snapping at each other.' 'I'll do it when she does it,' Reggie muttered defensively. 'Whadd're ya? Five?' Frankie scoffed. 'Listen, she'll stop doin' it, if you stop doin' it.' 'You have been doing it since she got here,' Tony offered. 'She didn't look at you like you ought to be on the back of the damn bus,' Reggie retorted to Tony. Jack tilted his chair on its hind legs, hands in his pockets. 'I think that's her way,' he said slowly. 'When she thinks she's being challenged or she thinks she has to stand up for herself…' He met Reggie's incredulous glare. 'She did it to me when I gave her that letter from her Ministry saying she had to go play baby-sitter to the royal family.' Jack shuddered a little. 'Honestly, it makes you feel like dog poo… I'd hate to be someone she really disliked…' He trailed off as an unfamiliar owl swooped through the open window. 'Oh, God, what now?' he exclaimed as the owl dropped the letter on the table in front of him. Jack wearily snatched the envelope from the table and tore it open. He yanked the letter out and began reading. 'Oh, no…' 'What?' Reggie leaned over Jack's shoulder. 'Oh, damn.' He plucked the letter from Jack and passed it to Tony, who scanned it, then handed it to Frankie. Frankie frowned, and his features froze as he came to the end of the letter. 'What the hell was Ruth doing on a goddamned gun boat?' Jack snorted. 'You know how the Army works. Once we signed up for this insanity, we had to go by their rules. And that means no magical transportation. If we're going to be part of the Army, we have to live by their rules.' He reached for the letter and stuffed it unceremoniously back into its envelope. 'I doubt we're ever going to know what Ruthie was doing on that gun boat. Loose lips and all that…' He sighed and threw the letter into the air, before jabbing his wand at it. The envelope burst into flames that died out before it landed on the floor. 'Come on. Let's go see what we can put together for supper…' He shoved his chair back and started to rise from the seat, then stopped and looked at Reggie. 'I don't suppose Lawrence sent

file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/In%20the%20Light%20of%20the%20Stars%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:08]

you a sample of his latest batch…?' Reggie shook his head. 'Nope. But we've still got some of that last bottle left.' 'Great.' Jack rose from his chair. 'We'll have some with dinner.' XxXxXxX Minerva quietly tiptoed down the stairs, hoping she could cobble together something resembling tea without disturbing the boys. As she came down the last few steps, she ruefully looked down at the brown dress. For most of the past month, she'd worn trousers or her ATS uniform, or anything else relatively shapeless. Anything to try and blend into the wallpaper a bit. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy their company, but Minerva preferred to keep her association with them on a more neutral plane. This particular dress was several years old, and Minerva was grateful she hadn't really grown up or out since she was fourteen. In fact, the dress hung a bit limply lately, thanks to those weeks she hadn't been very interested in food after Alasdair died. She hadn't been very interested in food the past few weeks, either. If exhaustion didn't rob her of her appetite, the unappealing meals they could put together from their rations tended to take the edge off her hunger as well. She could hear the sound of the boys rattling around the kitchen, and heaved a deep breath, before pushing the door open. Their chatter died as they looked up and took in the inconceivable sight of Minerva McGonagall in a floral-printed dress. She self-consciously pushed a strand of damp hair from her eyes. 'Can I help with anything?' She was met with more silence. 'Set the table, perhaps…?' 'Uh… yeah…' Jack blindly reached for a stack of plates, and handed them to Minerva. 'Thanks.' Minerva fled to the other room. Tony looked around the kitchen. 'Was she wearing a dress?' he asked incredulously. 'Yeah…' Jack swallowed. Reggie grabbed Jack's arm and shook it. 'No…' he warned. 'She's an underling, and you're the CO.' Jack shook himself. 'I can't appreciate a pretty girl in a dress?' 'Not that one,' Reggie reminded him. 'Shut up, Reg,' Jack muttered. 'Fine,' Reggie huffed in exasperation. 'Look at her. But don't bleat about regulations to me anymore, okay?' 'Yeah…' Jack looked down at the tinned meat sizzling in a pan. Reggie leaned closer to Jack. 'And just 'cause we're in merry old England, it doesn't mean that things are gonna change.' Jack stiffened slightly. 'What's that supposed to mean?' 'Captain or no, you're still the Japanese kid from Sacramento. And she's who she is… Even the magical world isn't ready for that.' Reggie grabbed the bowl of potatoes and sauntered out of the kitchen. XxXxXxX Minerva traced the tines of her fork through the remains of a potato, leaving a series of parallel mountains and valleys. She cast furtive glances around the table. The boys seemed a bit off. Normally meals were rather boisterous affairs, but tonight was subdued and quiet. 'Has somethin' happened?' Tony nodded. 'The witch that was supposed to come over was killed. The gunboat she was hitching a ride on to New York was torpedoed. Or that's what they think.' 'Oh.' Minerva set the fork down. 'Did ye know her well?' 'Yeah.' Reggie flicked his wand casually over his shoulder and Summoned a stoneware jug from the dresser in the dining room. Another flick drew out the cork and he poured a small amount in each of their glasses, pausing uncertainly over Minerva's. She snorted contemptuously.

file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/In%20the%20Light%20of%20the%20Stars%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:08]

'Ye're thinking I canna hold my drink?' 'This ain't water,' Reggie told her. Minerva nudged her glass closer to Reggie. 'Pour.' 'Your funeral.' Reggie tipped the jug over the glass and poured a tiny splash of liquid into the glass. Minerva met his gaze levelly. 'I'm no' a bairn,' she said. Reggie smirked and carefully poured an amount equal to the other glasses. Minerva picked it up, briefly saluted the others with the glass and tossed the liquid back without blinking. She then pushed her chair back and gathered her plate and cutlery and carried them into the kitchen, walking steadily, and then returned and continued up the stairs, keeping the same steady pace. Her knees buckled only when Minerva had disappeared into her bedroom. She opened her mouth, and no sounds came out. 'Bloody hell,' she managed to rasp after a few minutes. XxXxXxX Loud, booming knocks battered against the front door, making the wood shudder each time the fist landed on its surface. Minerva bolted upright, wishing she hadn't, as her head began to pound in time with the door. She stuck her tongue out, convinced she was going to have to perform some sort of charm to shave it. It felt as if it was coated in fur. She heard a muffled curse as one of the boys gingerly shuffled down the staircase and opened the door. 'Who're you?' Frankie asked grumpily, squinting against the relative bright light outdoors, in spite of the cloudy day. 'Where is my daughter?' Frankie eyed the tall, imposing man, bristling with an impressive amount of facial hair. 'You mus' be Minerva's dad,' he said. Angus glared at the younger wizard. 'Aye. I am,' he said stiffly. 'Is she here?' Frankie nodded, rubbing his temples. 'Yeah, and if she's got any sense, she's still in bed.' He stepped aside, allowing Angus into the house. Minerva stumbled into the sitting room, brushing ineffectively at the wrinkles in her dress. She had vague memories of being restless and unable to settle for the night, then giving up and rejoining the boys. She had hazy recollections of chess games, first with a wizarding chess set, then a Muggle set as the boys attempted one after the other to try and beat her. The games were fueled by more of that strange beverage Reggie referred to as "moonshine". Her knee twinged, and she flicked the hem of the dress aside, astonished at the deep blue bruise blooming over the knee itself. I suppose crawlin' up the stairs at dawn wasna a dream after all, she mused. 'Da,' she croaked. Angus' jaw snapped shut with an audible snap as he took in Minerva's disheveled appearance. 'Go and pack your things,' he ordered in Gaelic. Minerva blinked. 'No.' Angus' voice was dangerously low. 'I wilna allow ye to stay here,' he informed Minerva. 'Go upstairs now, and collect your things.' 'Ye dinna hae t' shout,' Minerva said sullenly. Anugs reared back a little. 'I'm no' shoutin',' he rumbled. He glanced toward the stairs, where Jack, Tony, Frankie, and Reggie could be seen clustered on the bottom riser. 'Go get your things,' he repeated, switching back to Gaelic. Minerva felt a flare of anger rush to the surface, pushing the nausea and the pounding headache aside. 'I will not.' 'You will do as you are told, Minerva,' Angus barked. 'I am of age, Da,' Minerva reminded him. 'This is not decent,' Angus retorted. 'You live alone here with those boys. I thought there was supposed to be another witch living here?' Minerva ran a hand through her hair, wincing slightly. Even her hair hurt. 'She was killed,' she said quietly. 'Off the coast of file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/In%20the%20Light%20of%20the%20Stars%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:08]

America.' Angus looked uncomfortable. 'I see.' 'What do you suppose they're sayin' to each other?' Frankie whispered to Jack. 'No idea.' Jack leaned against the wall. 'But I doubt it's, "Hugs and kisses, darling. See you next month."' He shuddered. 'I'd hate to meet him in a dark alley.' Minerva threw a scathing glance over her shoulder at the boys and sighed. 'If ye make me return home wi' ye, I'll only come back,' she told her father in English, well aware the boys could hear everything they said. It saved her from trying to explain later. 'I might be naught but a glorified child minder and automobile mechanic, but it's better than doin' nothin', aye? Do ye want me to no' follow through on my commitments, Da? That's no' what ye taught me.' Angus indicated the boys with his chin. 'I'll not hae ye exposed to such debauchery, Minerva.' 'Debauchery?' Minerva repeated incredulously. 'Where do ye get the idea I've been debauched, Da?' 'Sleepin' in your clothing, and smellin' like the Three Broomsticks after a Quidditch game?' Angus snorted. Minerva pinched a fold of the dress' bodice and lowered her nose to it, sniffing gingerly. He was right. She did reek. 'We just played chess, Da,' she replied wearily. 'They kept tryin' to beat me, aye? And we had a few drinks. And there isna anythin' for ye to worry about. They hae strict policies about fraternization.' Her voice lowered. 'And I willna do anything to dishonor his memory, aye?' 'I dinna like it,' Angus complained. 'Ye dinna hae to like it,' Minerva rejoined. 'I'm no' a girl any more, and ye canna order me to do things like I was.' She drew herself up to her full height, feeling the headache begin to creep back behind her eyes. 'Go home, Da.' Angus' mouth crimped under his beard, but he merely shoved a small package into her hands. 'Tea,' he said succinctly. 'Thank you.' Minerva looked down at the package. 'Would ye like to stay for a cup o' tea, Da?' Angus hesitated. 'Aye.' He slowly reached up and gently brushed a lock of hair away from Minerva's face. 'But only if ye go and wash first, aye? I dinna fancy havin' tea with surrounded by the stink of summat that's been left in the bottom o' a glass in a pub.' XxXxXxX One by one, the boys filed into the kitchen, dressed in clean olive drab uniforms, trying to make a better impression on Angus, with Jack in the lead. She'd never seen the four of them with such serious expressions before. Jack formally introduced the other members of his team, while Tony busied himself with preparing a pot of coffee the way they liked it – strong enough to strip paint from the walls. Angus watched them gingerly take seats around the table as he raised his cup of tea to his lips. 'Ye lay a hand on my girl, and I will see to it that ye're hexed into insignificance.' Reggie coughed on a sip of coffee, and Frankie helpfully pounded him on the back. 'Understood, sir,' Jack murmured. He had a feeling the older man could have easily made him disappear and convince people Jack had been a figment of their imaginations. He sat back in his chair and glanced at Minerva. The few times she'd performed magic in front of them, it had been done with a calm sense of purpose that looked nearly effortless. Jack surmised she'd inherited that quality from the man sitting next to her. Angus hadn't raised his voice the entire time, but it was clear he was a man used to having people follow any orders he might give. And Minerva hadn't backed down from her father's demands. It made Jack see Minerva in an entirely different light. XxXxXxX An ear-splitting wail tore through the charms surrounding the house. Minerva sat up with a gasp, peering blindly through the darkened room. The door crashed open and Jack grasped her arm. 'Come on!' he shouted. 'I dinna… What is that noise?'

file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/In%20the%20Light%20of%20the%20Stars%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:08]

'Air-raid siren,' Jack replied tersely, grabbing Alasdair's plaid and wrapping it roughly around her shoulders. 'Where in God's name are your damned shoes?' 'By the door…' Minerva struggled to make sense of what was going on around her. 'You have your wand?' 'Aye, I do…' 'Then put your shoes on, and let's go!' Jack tugged Minerva impatiently off the bed, pausing long enough to allow her to slip her shoes on and all but dragged her down the stairs and out of the house. They joined a straggly line of people heading toward an entrance to the Chancery Lane station. Minerva struggled to keep up with Jack, her bare feet sliding in her shoes, his hand clamped in an iron grip around her upper arm. Reggie and Tony jostled her from behind, and Minerva had the impression they'd pick her up and carry her if need be. They managed to make their way down into the deep-level shelter, under the Tube station. 'Do you see anywhere?' Tony murmured, scanning the crowded shelter. 'Over there, I think,' Reggie replied, gesturing with his chin. 'But we might have to split up.' 'Might be best if we did,' Tony muttered. 'Hey, Jack…' Frankie tapped Jack's shoulder. 'The three of us,' he began, indicating himself, Tony, and Reggie, 'will be in that spot over there… See the empty one?' 'Yeah…' Jack strained to see the small space that would just barely fit the three young men. 'I think we'll have to go further into the tunnel…' Tony examined Minerva. 'I think you might want to explain what's going on more. She looks a little… loca…' He grinned as Minerva's eyes narrowed. She didn't understand the last word he'd used, but she was sure it wasn't complimentary, due to the impudent grin on his face. Jack led Minerva deeper into the tunnel, carefully winding his way around the people already settled for the night. 'You do look a little frazzled,' he commented. 'Ye would look a fright too, if ye had been awakened from a sound sleep by that bloody siren,' Minerva muttered. 'You can go back to sleep when we get settled,' Jack promised. He sidled into an empty alcove and spread out the bedroll he carried. 'I guess we didn't tell you what to keep with you,' he said apologetically. 'Sit…' He waited until Minerva folded herself to the floor, then sat next to her, his back braced against the wall. 'You look different,' he blurted. 'I dinna hae my glasses,' Minerva responded placidly. 'Do you want them?' 'Ye're not going back out, are ye?' Jack shook his head. 'Where are they?' 'Chair next to my bed.' Jack grinned. 'Prepare to be astounded,' he said in a soft, dramatic voice. He snapped his fingers and in moments her glasses lay balanced across the palm of his hand. Jack unfolded them and slid the earpieces over Minerva's ears. 'There.' 'How did ye do that?' she demanded. 'I told you. I was the top student in my school.' Jack let his eyes close. He cracked one open. 'Want me to teach you?' 'Aye, I would.' 'Tomorrow. I'll show you.'

file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/In%20the%20Light%20of%20the%20Stars%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:08]

Minerva looked interestedly around the shelter. There were hundreds of people already in the station, and apparently had been there for hours. It looked as if they practically lived in the Underground station. She eyed the ceiling above them. 'Will it hold?' 'Will what hold?' Jack murmured sleepily. 'The roof.' 'It should. People've been sheltering in here since the Blitz started.' Jack shifted a little. 'Granted, the Jerries haven't bombed London since they ended the Blitz, but you never know…' 'If we're no' bein' bombed, then why sound the alarm?' 'Reconnaissance plane, maybe,' Jack replied. 'Better to be safe. Lots of people think they're just biding their time, and when we're not paying attention… Bam!' Minerva gathered her hair between her hands and pulled it over her shoulder, then began to weave it into a loose plait. 'The house isna protected?' Jack glanced uneasily at the Muggles surrounding them. 'Lie down…' 'I beg your pardon!' Minerva said stiffly. Jack slid down until he stretched out on top of the bedroll. 'Lie down,' he repeated, beckoning with one arm. Minerva reluctantly arranged herself next to Jack. He wound his free arm over her waist, and pressed his chest to her back. 'Now then,' he murmured next to her ear. 'It's Unplottable. And there are a few light Muggle-repelling charms on it. But it won't protect us from German bombs. Magic –' 'Doesna solve everything,' Minerva finished. 'If that is the case, then why do we bother?' 'You're going to Buckingham and Windsor next week?' Minerva nodded. 'I didna think I'd hae to follow members o' the royal family and mind them, like they were infants.' 'That's not why,' Jack chuckled. 'Think about it. What would it do to your country if something were to happen to them? The morale would drop faster than a rock. That's more important sometimes than firepower. Do you think Britain would have lasted against the Germans as long as they did during the Blitz if morale was low? Get through all the rationing? It's part of your identity. That stiff upper lip. And you've got something to fight for.' His voice trailed off as he drifted off into sleep. 'Important… morale…' Minerva couldn't sleep. She spent most of the night staring at the sleeping Londoners around her, wondering: how long could they live like this before they descended into despair?  

THREE – More Than Mere Symbols

The shelter in the Underground was stuffy, Minerva decided. The mass of people that sought what protection it afforded from the too-frequent claxons that split the London nights with its terrifying wail added to the sense of airlessness that permeated the station. She was growing to hate Chancery Lane and everything it stood for. Invariably they split up – Frank, Reggie, and Tony went to one area, and she and Jack to another. After that first night when Jack pretended they were more than colleagues in order to keep the conversation as private as possible, he hadn't laid a hand on her again. After the initial sense of shock, it hadn't been an unwelcome sensation to sleep with Jack's hand resting on hers. Minerva shifted on the bedroll and gazed at the solid concrete above their heads. 'Are ye scared?' she breathed. Jack inhaled slowly. 'Sometimes,' he admitted quietly. 'You?' 'Aye.'

file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/In%20the%20Light%20of%20the%20Stars%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:08]

'Of what?' Jack turned to his side, and propped his head in his hand. 'I'm no' scairt o' dyin',' Minerva murmured. 'I dinna want to die before I do aught wi' my life.' She glanced at Jack. 'I want to do summat useful, aye?' 'Like what?' Jack waited for Minerva to respond. She was silent for so long, he thought she had gone to sleep. He carefully rolled onto his back, so as not to wake her when she spoke so softly, he had to strain to hear her over the sighs and snores of the people around them. 'I dinna ken. I knew before. And now…' Jack felt a tremor run through her body. 'I dinna ken.' xxxxxx Minerva didn't know what to expect when she met Elizabeth Bowes-Lyons – Her Majesty the Queen. She'd seen photographs, of course, but rarely ever spared a thought for any member of the royal family. They didn't figure prominently in the magical world. She wasn't expecting slightly plump, small woman with a somewhat cheeky smile. Someone poked Minerva in the back. Flushing with embarrassment, Minerva dropped a quick, belated curtsey. 'Ma'am,' she mumbled. 'Actually, it's "Your Majesty" first, then "ma'am",' the Queen corrected with a wry smile that took the sting from her words. She studied Minerva for a moment and her smile broadened. 'So you're the one Mr. Churchill was adamant about sending to us for protection.' 'Yes, ma'am.' Minerva waited expectantly for the Queen to say something else. Queen Elizabeth eyed Minerva for a moment. 'I'm afraid Mr. Churchill was not able to inform me of your name.' 'Minerva, ma'am. Minerva McGonagall.' 'You're not from London.' Minerva shook her head. 'No, ma'am. I was born near Fort William.' 'Ah! A fellow Scot. Minerva's an interesting name. And quite appropriate given the circumstances.' The Queen perched on a chair behind a massive desk. 'You'll meet Princess Elizabeth and Princess Margaret at Windsor later. They shall be thrilled to have a young girl there. I was given to understand that you're nearly their age.' 'I'm eighteen, ma'am.' 'So young.' 'I beg your pardon, ma'am, but I very much doubt German bombs care how old their victims are.' 'Very well put.' Queen Elizabeth motioned for Minerva to sit in a chair across the desk. 'We have quite a busy schedule this week.' A tall man ambled into the Queen's office. 'Hello, Bertie,' she said in obvious delight. A sly smile tipped up the corners of her mouth. 'Allow me to make introductions.' Minerva rose, her hands folded in front of her. 'Bertie, this is Minerva McGonagall. She's from Mr. Churchill's special office. Apparently, he feels we need more protection than the MI-5 can provide.' Her eyes twinkled with mirth. Minerva dropped into another curtsey. 'Your Majesty.' Queen Elizabeth slid a hand into the crook of the King's elbow. 'Miss McGonagall, may I present His Majesty King George VI.' The King hesitated for a long moment. His lips pursed several times. 'P-pleasure to m-m-m-meet you, Miss McGonagall.' 'Likewise, sir,' Minerva said, looking up at him from under lowered eyelashes. His face was arranged in kind, yet determined lines. He nodded once, and continued on his way, leaving Minerva to ponder how this shy, reticent man managed to embody the spirit of the English people. xxxxxx

file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/In%20the%20Light%20of%20the%20Stars%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:08]

If Minerva thought Windsor would be a refuge from the claustrophobia of Chancery Lane, she was wrong. Windsor might have been several miles away from London, and a palace, but the windows were either blacked out or boarded over, contributing to the sense of oppression she had experienced in the city. Edward Hawley, the wizard overseeing the handful of witches and wizards who quietly safeguarded the royal family, Prime Minister, and other key members of the British government, huddled with her in a small room in Windsor, his wand lit and held aloft over a small piece of parchment. 'You'll spend two days here, and two days back at the house, then come back.' He glanced at her apologetically. 'I am sorry you have to share your quarters with the Yanks, but it was the best we could do at the time.' 'They're fine.' Minerva fingered the edge of the parchment, inexplicably annoyed at Hawley's assumption it was a hardship to stay with the boys. 'So I'm to follow the queen and only the queen?' 'Yes. We can explain you as some sort of secretary. There's an older witch with the Princesses. Publicly, she's their tutor.' Hawley paused. 'The royal living quarters are charmed. We're doing the best we can at Buckingham, but it's just so bloody big. Their Majesties' offices are, of course, charmed as well. 'Of course.' 'If you must perform magic, for God's sake, try not to be seen. And only in case of the most dire emergency,' Edward ordered sternly. 'Understood.' 'You'll sleep in the room at the end of the corridor. I'll give you the rest of the tour tomorrow. Get some sleep.' xxxxxx Minerva quickly ate her breakfast and took up a post outside the dining room. She felt her brows rise in astonishment. The royal family ate no better than she and boys did in west London – even they were subject to the rationing that gripped the rest of the country. They talked and laughed like any other normal family. Occasionally, the King paused and stumbled over a word here and there. The Queen often touched his hand or arm, gifting him with rosy smiles obviously meant only for him. Minerva looked away quickly, feeling as if she were intruding on a private moment. Presently, the Queen strode out of the dining room, adjusting the gloves on her hands. Minerva eyed the older woman's frock appraisingly. Her innate sense of Scottish thrift nearly gasped aloud at how much such a fine dress would have cost. The Queen paused in front of a mirror to don a matching hat. She looked at Minerva's reflection. 'Yes, I know. It is a bit much. However, every child in that orphanage will have been scrubbed within an inch of their lives. The very least I can do is return the favor.' 'Of course, Your Majesty.' Queen Elizabeth chuckled lightly. 'Come on, Miss McGonagall. Let's go and cheer up some orphans.' xxxxxx Minerva hung back and watched as dozens of painfully neat children stood in a line. The little girls bobbed in dainty curtsies, while the boys did their best imitations of a courtly bow, their small faces a study in earnest solemnity. Queen Elizabeth graciously accepted the girls' offered bouquets, scraggly as they were, and said a few kind words of thanks, touching the child's cheek with gentle fingers. The babies she cuddled, tickling their rounded chins, patiently unwinding curious fingers from the customary strand of pearls. Minerva was taken aback by the reactions of everyone from the matrons to the babes in arms. They seemed to adore the Queen. She didn't remember much of British Muggle history, but she did recall British monarchs were mostly figureheads. Symbols. But even Minerva knew how powerful a mere symbol could be. The queen didn't have to traipse about England, visiting orphanages and wounded soldiers and sailors. She could have taken her daughters and fled to Canada, to safety. But no. She chose to stay and experience the fear that insidiously crept into their souls alongside her countrymen and women. And somehow, Queen Elizabeth found the courage to smile in the face of fear. It was an image that would prove to linger in Minerva's mind.

file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/In%20the%20Light%20of%20the%20Stars%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:08]

xxxxxx 'I need ye to show me how to do that trick wi' my wand.' Minerva stood over the sofa, where Jack sprawled with a newspaper. Jack sat up, messily folding the paper in half. 'What? Now?' 'No. When the bloody war's over. Of course now,' Minerva snapped. Jack rubbed his hands over his face. 'After dinner,' he promised. 'We'll get started.' He pushed himself to his feet. 'When do you go back to Buckingham?' 'Friday morning.' 'I suppose it'll give you something to work on while you're there.' 'What is that supposed to mean, precisely?' Minerva seethed. 'That it isna somethin' I can learn because I'm dimwitted?' 'Because it's hard,' Jack retorted stiffly. 'If it was easy, everyone could do it.' xxxxxx Jack closed the door of the sitting room, and motioned for Minerva to sit in one of the straight-backed chairs. 'Right or left handed?' he asked. 'Right.' Jack sat in the other chair and began unfasten the cuffs of his shirt, carefully working the buttons through the buttonholes, then rolled up his sleeves. He slid his wand from a vivid scarlet leather holster strapped to his forearm. 'Made from the hide of a Chinese Fireball,' he told her as he unbuckled the small golden buckles. 'Gift from my parents when I completed the Auror training.' 'It's verra nice,' Minerva murmured politely. 'Roll up your sleeves,' Jack ordered. 'Why?' 'Do you want to learn how to do this or not?' Jack sighed. 'I'm really not in the mood to argue with you all night.' Minerva's lips pressed together in a thin line. She fumbled with the buttons on the sleeve of her shirt, fingertips slipping and sliding over the small, slick button. She managed to push them through the buttonholes and folded the cuff back, pushing the sleeve up. Jack leaned forward and bound the straps of the holster to her arm. Minerva jerked her arm away. 'I can do that,' she muttered. 'Did anyone ever tell you that you're stubborn?' Jack asked conversationally. 'All the time,' Minerva replied evenly. 'Can I see your wand?' 'Why d'ye need t' see my wand?' Jack huffed impatiently. 'Listen… This isn't going to get very far if you question every damn thing I try to do. Out of the two of us, I'm the only one that knows what to do. So, you can let me get things set up properly, or I'm going to get up, go up to my bedroom, and get some sleep. Your choice.' Minerva tapped her fingers on her knee, then slowly held her wand out to Jack. He took it with an admiring hum. 'Nice. Where'd you get it?' 'Diagon Alley. At Ollivander's.' 'This is fantastic craftsmanship,' Jack murmured. 'Maybe we can go have a look at his place when we get some time…' He wrapped a hand around her wrist, and extended her arm, until it was nearly straight. Jack twirled Minerva's wand in his

file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/In%20the%20Light%20of%20the%20Stars%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:08]

fingers until the handle pointed toward her shoulder and slipped it into the small loops of the holster. The tip of the wand rested just inside her wrist. 'I dinna snap my fingers verra well,' Minerva blurted. 'What does that have to do with the price of tea in China?' Jack chuckled, strangely pleased that she would admit what must have felt like a personal failing. 'In the Underground, when ye did this, ye snapped your fingers…' 'Just a flourish.' Jack snagged a cushion from the sofa and tossed it across the room. 'Let's try a Summoning charm first.' 'Oh, gie me summat hard, aye?' 'Do you ever notice the more emotional you get, the stronger your accent gets?' 'I dinna hae an accent.' 'Yeah, sure. And Eleanor Roosevelt and I are chums. Just try Summoning that pillow, okay?' Minerva snorted and threw her arm out. Dark blue sparks shot from the tip and blasted a layer of wallpaper from the wall. She blinked. 'Bloody hell.' Jack leaned forward. 'I wondered if anything was under that ugly floral paper. That's even worse,' he pronounced, shuddering at the lurid striped wallpaper. 'You can't really do any moves, like when you're casting a spell the regular way. You have to think about the wand movement, almost like doing nonverbal magic.' 'I can do nonverbal magic,' Minerva protested. 'This isn't nonverbal magic, sweetheart.' Jack moved his chair to sit behind Minerva's. His hands rested lightly on her shoulders. Instantaneously, her shoulders rose in a defensive posture. 'Relax,' he told her softly. Minerva's shoulders tensed. 'I am relaxed,' she countered. 'As relaxed as a plank of wood.' Jack's fingers glided over the slope of the ridged muscle from the base of her neck to the edge of her shoulders. The fingers swept across her back once more, searching for something. He found the spot he wanted, and began to apply pressure with his thumbs. 'Just breathe,' he murmured soothingly. Minerva huffed impatiently, feeling the muscles in her shoulders tighten slightly under Jack's ministrations. 'I am breathin',' she muttered resentfully. Jack's hands unfurled to rest softly over Minerva's shoulder blades. 'Jesus, you need to relax. You won't be able to master this if you're so stiff I could bounce a quarter off your back.' He pressed his hands lightly to her back. 'Take a deep breath. In-twothree-four,' he instructed softly. 'Out-two-three-four… Close your eyes… Keep breathing,' he chanted quietly. Minerva dutifully closed her eyes inhaled and exhaled according to Jack's murmurs. Her chin fell forward a little and her shoulders dropped a little, then a little more. His hands slipped to her neck, massaging the ridged muscles, then slowly moved to her shoulders, then back. There was nothing remotely sexual about Jack's actions, but it still felt remarkably intimate to Minerva. It was mildly disconcerting. Jack's hands slid slowly up to her shoulders, resting weightlessly on them. He leaned forward until his mouth was just behind her ear. 'Try it again.' Keeping her eyes closed, Minerva let her arm float up, until her hand was nearly shoulder-height, picturing the wand movements in her head. Taking one more deep breath, she let her eyes open a little, then whispered, 'Accio…' The pillow moved forward a bare foot. She grinned with ill-disguised glee. 'Good job,' Jack said approvingly. 'It took me weeks to get pack of cards to move more than a few inches.' He patted Minerva on the back. 'Do it again.' xxxxxx A/N: I did borrow a bit of dialogue from The King's Speech (excellent movie, if you haven't had a chance to see it, by the way). I did as much research as I could into the life of the Queen Mum and what she did during the war. I hope I was able to capture file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/In%20the%20Light%20of%20the%20Stars%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:08]

her, even a little bit. I have no idea what the royal family's daily routine was like, and I've probably taken a few liberties. I hope you don't mind. But the impression I got from my research was that King George VI and Queen Elizabeth were probably somewhat hands-on as parents. Apologies if I'm totally off-base, and if I am, please feel free to PM me and let me know, along with suggestions about how to portray them.  

file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/In%20the%20Light%20of%20the%20Stars%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:37:08]