Part XIX - Minerva's Tale

Minerva nearly choked on the tension between herself and Arabella. Neither one wanted to be the first to speak. Words were only uttered when absolutely necessary. The Ministry of Magic, at Dumbledore’s request, had arranged for Arabella to use a safe house - a small house in the Ulster countryside with strong anti-Muggle charms set around it. Only top officials knew the locations of such safe houses.

Minerva felt bitter. She thought about how close she was to Ballycastle. And if she died, Daniel would never know why she missed his match.

As they situated themselves in the cabin, Arabella finally broke the silence.

“Why are you mad at me?” she asked from across the room.

“I shouldn’t be here, Minerva coolly replied, “And neither should you.”

“I’m perfectly capable of taking out any Dark Wizard. Don’t worry about me,” snapped Arabella.

“Is that how you got that scar?” Minerva responded.

Arabella reddened. “Something like that, yes. But believe me, he has something much worse,” she added harshly.

“Are you jealous of me?” Minerva cried out, “Is that what it is? I’ve always been powerful so you had to have it too. Did you always feel like that?”

Arabella turned away. She was angry and spoke very slowly. “I’m not jealous. I marvel at your abilities, but I’m not jealous of you. This is what I do, Minerva. It’s important to me. I thought I explained that to you. You said you were okay with it.”

“I wasn’t,” Minerva said. She paused for a moment and then asked, “Why didn’t you ever come to see me?”

“I couldn’t.”

“What were you doing?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“That’s why I can’t understand, Arabella! For three years I hear nothing from you, and now we can’t even talk about anything. We’re only together because we’re hunting the same person. And I’m here under protest. It’s like we’re not even friends anymore.”

“Don’t you get it? I can’t have friends!” Arabella shouted. Her already red face flared a bright crimson. Minerva stared at her.

Arabella started to weep a bit. “I can’t see my family except from a distance. I have to be dead to everyone I loved. I’ve devoted myself to this body and soul and I’m in it until the end. There’s no changing the rules.” She forced herself to stop weeping and regained her composure.

Minerva softened her tone and walked over to the other side of the room. “Did you know that going in?”

“Yes,” said Arabella somewhat sullenly.

“Then why did you do it?”

“It’s important to me. The world is at war. Not just our world, but the Muggles too. Everything is going to change for better or for worse and someone needs to make sure that it’s for better. I may die doing this, maybe as soon as tomorrow, but at least I know I’ll be dying for a worthy cause.”

Tears welled in Minerva’s eyes. “I wonder if that’s what my father thought,” she said.

Arabella put her hand on Minerva’s shoulder. “Other members in the Order knew your father and worked with him. About a year ago I asked how they felt about him. He was a good man, well loved by everyone who knew him. Four different people told me they would have died in his place.”

“Who,” asked Minerva softly.

Arabella’s look changed. She was fighting with herself not to violate anyone’s confidence.

“Harold Longbottom, Alastor Moody, Mundungus Fletcher, and Dumbledore. I never told you those names,” said Arabella with a grim look on her face.

“I promise,” said Minerva. After a pause she asked, “What do you know about Macha O’Nemen?”

“Practically nothing. Just that she’s very powerful and has been located nearby. We don’t know how or why she found Grindelwald, but he became the foremost Dark Wizard since she’s joined him. She’s protecting him somehow. Aurors have been searching for him for the past few years with absolutely no luck. More than a few have died in the hunt.”

“So why are we hunting this witch?”

“Your aunt believes that O’Nemen is the reason he’s risen to such prominence. A source close to Dumbledore confirmed it. We’re hoping that after she’s captured the boss will be easier to find. Then we send out most powerful Aurors after him,” Arabella said.

Minerva giggled.

“What’s so funny,” demanded Arabella.

“You. You talk like a soldier.”

“I am a soldier and we’re at war. Now let’s get some sleep. Tomorrow we hunt.”

It was a fitful night for Minerva. Her dreams came in flashes. She saw an ancient battle of warriors in ancient Irish battle garb. A black raven flew around the armies, all the while cawing a mournful battle cry. That morning, Minerva donned her bow and quiver, though she did not know why she felt compelled to do so.

Arabella and Minerva traveled to the location where Dumbledore’s spies reported Macha to be hiding. They found themselves in the middle of a bog. At the edge of the quagmire, Arabella spotted a hut and wordlessly motioned for Minerva to follow her.

Arabella’s wand was drawn, but Minerva chose to keep hers at her side, choosing instead to string her bow. There was no furniture in the cottage, save for a table and chair in the corner. They walked around the room, Arabella kneeling down, trying to sniff out the magic. Minerva turned to stare at the hearth, which had clearly not seen a flame in ages. Suddenly a strange voice uttered the stunning spell, followed by a surprised moan from Arabella. She spun around to see her friend fall to the ground. Standing in front of her was a tall blond woman, with a handsome face. She was not young, but looked ageless. Her wand was drawn and a mocking smile spread across her face. Minerva let loose her arrow. It split the woman’s wand and pinned the dragon heartstring core against far war. The wand was useless. Minerva restrung her bow.

If the woman even noticed the loss of her wand, she showed no sign of it.

“Welcome, daughter of the Raven,” she sneered, “I wondered when one of your kind might return here.”