Bet You 20 Galleons

Bet You Twenty Galleons
Narrated By Professor Minerva McGonagall
Penned by Megan Nichole

**A/N: I got this idea after reading a paragraph in a fic where the Professors had been betting on Harry and Hermione. This just takes it a step further.**

I walked the halls aimlessly as I found myself doing every night. After the murder of Albus Dumbledore, I became Headmistress and Hogwarts reopened. I had convinced Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley to return to finish their education even though they had no intention of doing so. It was simple really and I would have to thank Albus’ portrait the next time I could bring myself into my new office. I told them that there was a woman in America who could help them in their quest. They went to America and found her. However, she told them she wouldn’t help them unless they returned to Hogwarts where she was teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. (Damn, Severus.)

They agreed. I decided that it was best to make Harry Potter Head Boy and Hermione Granger Head Girl. Draco Malfoy and many of the Slytherins have not returned this year. I have no regret in their absence.

I made my way to the Staff Lounge, where I found almost every professor we possessed (except for Hagrid). The Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Jairdan Medea McEwan, sat at the table with her feet propped up, a book in her lap, and a drink in her hand. She looked up and smiled at me. One of Albus’ few remaining relatives, she and I have become close over the years. At the age of 22, she knows me better than anyone else, except maybe Albus.

Poppy, Hogwart’s Healer, sat beside Jairdan with just a drink to occupy her. Across from her sat Sprout, Flitwick, and Slughorn (Damn you, Severus. Really). I nodded at the room at large and sat beside Jairdan. “Has my dear Uncle been giving you instructions everyday?” she asked, as a way to start up conversation. I must have paled a little or showed some sign of being unnerved be the question. “Minerva?” she asked turning towards me fully. She handed me her drink and I downed it at once. “We need to talk,” she said, “meet me in my quarters in about forty five minutes. I have a meeting. . .” She walked out of the room, book under her arm and another drink in her hand. Poppy took her seat and started asking me questions. When I refused to answer, she told me that we were going to the hospital wing.

After a half-hearted good night to the other Professors, I let Poppy lead me upstairs. “You’re taking on too much, Minerva. You still teach Transfiguration. You’re still the head of Gryffindor. Now you’re Headmistress as well. You have to change something, Minerva, or you’ll be taking up permanent residence in the Hospital Wing. I'll put you right beside Potter’s reserved bed.”

I smiled at Poppy’s humor. We made it to the hospital wing and she sat me down, asking me questions. I gave her answers but I can’t be sure exactly what I told her. Half-satisfied, Poppy let me leave telling me she would keep an eye on me. I thanked her and went to Jairdan’s quarters. I went through her classroom first. I saw her exhibits, diagrams, and the notes she left on the blackboard. She was very thorough; I’m sure the students are learning a lot from her. I started for her office so I could go to her quarters when I heard voices.

“Professor McEwan, you’ve told us that we would teach us how to defeat Voldermort and protect ourselves. You haven’t done anything yet,” a very outraged voice accused. Potter. That boy never rests.

“On the contrary, Mr. Potter,” Jairdan said, “Have you been paying attention to my lectures and demonstrations? Have you taken the practical work I give you to heart and mind?” Creaking the door back a little, I looked in just enough so they wouldn’t see me. Just like her uncle, Jairdan sat there calmly, trying to get Potter to figure it out for himself. He sat there scowling for a bit before his face lit up. The light in his face soon faded to a dark red wave crept up his neck on the form of a blush. “As you’re realized, Mr. Potter, I am not only training Ms. Granger, Mr. Weasley, and yourself, but all of Hogwarts, in one way or another.”

I smiled at the comment. She was doing what Albus had wanted us to do before the Ministry had stepped in two years ago. Albus had wanted many things. I remember one night after that fiasco in the Department of Mysteries. . .

“How are they,” Albus asked me, sitting in a very comfortable chair in his quarters. I sat across from him, nursing my tea. I looked up at him, confusion on my face. “Harry and Hermione, Minerva. Have they figured it out yet?”

“Have they figured what out yet, Albus? Do you realize you are making very little sense?” I sipped my tea again. He smiled at me. He drives me crazy.

“Have they figured out they are meant to be?”

“Like Lily and James?”

Albus nodded. “Well, no, I don’t think so. They’ve just been through quite an ordeal, Albus, I hardly think they are concerned with that at the moment.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. However, Minerva, I bet you 20 galleons that Harry and Hermione will be more than friends by the time Harry finds out about Jairdan.”

“You’re on. Wait, what about Jairdan?”

“That is something else entirely, Minerva. Care for a chocolate frog?”

Shaking her head and trying not to laugh, she listened to the rest of the conversation. As it was ending, Minerva knocked so as not to be caught ease dropping.

“Not to worry, Mr. Potter, I have a meeting with Professor McGonagall,” Jairdan said. “Take this note so you won’t get in trouble for being out after Head Boy hours.” After some more shuffling, Jairdan spoke again. “Come on in, Minerva. Good night, Mr. Potter, pleasant dreams.”

“Good night Professors,” Harry said, leaving. That poor kid has been through more in seventeen years then most full grown witches and wizards in their entire life. I bid him good night as he left. Turning back to Jairdan, who had yet another drink in her hand, I sat down.

“What was the reason for having Harry in here at such a late time of night,” I asked her, sipping from the glass she passed me.

“I caught Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger in a secret room near the library,” she told me. I raised my eyebrow in question. “They were snogging the heck out of each other,” she said, “I just offered him more private quarters to do so. Albus wouldn’t mind, I don’t think. Anyway, we had to talk about what I promised him. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, nothing,” I said, sitting back, “do you have some kind of secret over Harry?”

“Well, yes,” she said, sitting back as well. “I have yet to tell him that my maiden name is Potter and that I am his cousin. I also have to tell me that most of the Potter’s are still in hiding. Why?”

“Oh, nothing, your Uncle Albus owes me 20 galleons is all.”