The following morning, Minerva was summoned once again to the Headmaster's office. The night had not been kind to her, and sheer exhaustion was etched into her gaunt complexion and the dark shadows beneath her eyes. Falling asleep had been a losing battle against the anguish of her condition and the storm of doubts raging in her head. Whenever she finally managed to drift off, violent nightmares plagued her: in the most terrifying one, a colossal demon plunged a burning claw straight through her abdomen, causing her to bolt awake in the middle of the dark room.
However, she expected the nightmare to come to an end today. Dumbledore would deliver his verdict. Whatever the resolution might be, Minerva trusted her mentor's judgment implicitly, especially now when she doubted her own reasoning more than ever.
Upon crossing the threshold into the office, she found the old wizard standing near the grand windows, gazing out at the clear sky. Instinctively, Minerva's hand sought her own abdomen—a protective gesture that had become second nature.
"Albus..." she murmured in a faltering voice.
Dumbledore turned around slowly. Though tiredness was evident on his face as well, he offered her a warm, reassuring smile.
"Calm yourself, Minerva... Everything is fine," he said with steady composure as he returned to his desk. "The matter has been resolved; you have nothing to fear."
The tension coiled in Minerva's shoulders evaporated in an instant. Though she was unaware of the specifics of said resolution, the sheer weight of those words spoken by the most respected wizard of the era restored the peace of mind she so desperately needed.
"Drink this," Albus instructed, sliding a small vial containing a luminous substance of unknown origin across the wooden desk. "It will resolve your magical deficiency immediately, supply the necessary nutrients required for gestation, and fully restore your vitality. You will be able to go about your duties with complete normality."
Minerva examined the vessel with a mix of curiosity and wonder, but she did not question the Headmaster's word. Uncorking the vial, she swallowed it in a single gulp. The treatments prescribed at St. Mungo's called for a continuous intake of tonics that would prove harmful in the long run, even if they were her only means to keep from collapsing. But this potion belonged to a radically different nature: the moment the liquid flowed down her throat, a warm, invigorating surge rushed through her bloodstream, dissolving the abyssal fatigue consuming her. For the first time in weeks, the exhaustion brought on by the lives growing inside her vanished completely. She felt revitalized, overflowing with a mana so dense and pure she had never experienced anything like it in her life.
The physical transformation was immediate and drastic: the weariness of the previous night melted away, and on top of that, it granted her the appearance of a witch in the prime of her thirties—refined and dignified—along with certain features and a vibrant energy belonging to a woman in her twenties.
"You should be able to navigate the remainder of your pregnancy without the slightest complication," Dumbledore declared, projecting serenity even if internally he had not recovered from his astonishment at the transformation he had just witnessed. The concoction—synthesized from a diluted fraction of Elise's divine essence—operated on a truly miraculous level. "The effect will persist for several months, bestowing upon you an incalculable reserve of magic; you will need to exercise caution when channeling spells so as not to lose control. Furthermore, it will grant you exceptional physical endurance, an accelerated rate of regeneration, and immunity against most poisons and harmful enchantments. Do not be surprised if certain magic simply bounces off you."
"Thank you, Albus... This is simply extraordinary," Minerva whispered, staring at the empty vial with renewed devotion toward the old wizard. A brew of such magnitude was not only priceless, but it transcended the absolute boundaries of known potion-making.
"Do not attribute the credit to me; the brewing was not my doing," Dumbledore replied with a grimace of resigned irony, unable to refrain from marveling at the sheer display of resources from the troublesome student responsible for all of this. "It was from an... acquaintance, who expressed his best wishes for your swift recovery."
"Even so, none of this would have been possible without your intervention, Albus," she insisted.
"I severely doubt that..." the old man muttered to himself, before resuming a formal tone: "As for how you choose to manage the coming months, that decision rests entirely in your hands. You may continue leading your classes if you so desire, or request a formal leave of absence for the remainder of the school year... and even consider permanent retirement should you deem it appropriate," he concluded with a touch of regret, well aware of the incalculable loss it would mean to do without his most efficient collaborator.
"I... would not wish to leave Hogwarts," Minerva answered, gently caressing the nascent swell of her stomach. "Given the accelerated pace of development, it is highly probable that the birth will take place during the summer break..." She paused, keeping to herself the medical projections from St. Mungo's, before the true root of her distress surfaced: "Albus... what about Tom?"
The name hung suspended in the air. Ever since she had confessed the truth, the young man's fate had been her greatest torment. The mere thought of carrying his children in her womb while he remained subjected to the yoke of that brothel, sold off to the highest bidder and defiled without rest, was utterly intolerable to her.
"I took the liberty of personally visiting said establishment to hold a conversation with Miss Andra..." Dumbledore mentioned, deliberately omitting the fact that he had not needed to step through the brothel's doors when the network's actual owner walked the castle corridors on a daily basis.
"Forgive me for forcing you to set foot in such a vile place, Albus... Forgive me for everything," Minerva apologized with burning cheeks, though the urgency in her eyes betrayed her desperation to learn the outcome. "That woman is... evil—a manipulative creature who played with my mind and body as she pleased."
"Think nothing of it... She certainly possesses peculiar methods, but I managed to reach a firm agreement with her..." The Headmaster cut his sentence short, observing her in silence.
"What is it, Albus? Is Tom alright? Did she agree to release him?" Minerva burst out, losing her composure, utterly frantic. "I can pay whatever sum is necessary, even if it means handing over every last Galleon in my personal vaults... Please, tell me we can get him out of that hell."
"Calm yourself, Minerva... Everything is fine," the Headmaster said, letting out a sigh.
Albus had no desire to distress a pregnant woman, but curiosity to see just how far the immaculate Deputy Headmistress had surrendered herself to that romantic illusion had won out. Internally, he couldn't help cursing the architect of such chaos; that student possessed no scruples or boundaries whatsoever.
"Tom is safe and has been severed from that establishment, at least for the most part," Dumbledore continued in a grave, measured tone. "I have relocated him to a certain special, private location—a realm to which very few possess access. It is a place of formidable beauty, superior to any region in the known wizarding world. There, he enjoys a peaceful life with all his needs met."
Minerva exhaled the breath she had been holding, feeling as though she were being freed from the greatest torment clutching her heart. If Dumbledore himself vouched for the boy's safety, there was no doubt he was in the best possible sanctuary. The desperate longing to reunite with him began to burn within her.
"When he asked about you, I took the liberty of informing him that you were navigating a... complex situation, though I omitted specific details, as I believe it is your place to reveal them. Nevertheless, he did not cease asking after your well-being," the old man added, levitating a bulky leather bag that landed onto the desk with a heavy, metallic thud. "And he entrusted this to me for you."
"For me?" she asked, thrown off by the sharp clinking of metal.
"It contains all of his savings. He insisted I deliver it to you to help you overcome your difficulties... He flatly refused to take no for an answer and forced me to accept it," Albus explained, carrying the lie with ease. "He is a young man... selfless in many ways."
Minerva stared at the bag of Galleons. The mental image of Tom surrendering his entire capital to come to her aid was so vivid and effortless to imagine that it broke her completely; caught between the emotional imbalance of pregnancy and sheer gratitude, a solitary tear slipped down her cheek.
"It belongs to you, Minerva. You ought to dedicate it toward the care of your children," Dumbledore suggested with a serene gaze. "I doubt that boy will find peace of mind unless you make use of it. Honor his wishes."
"I... need to go see him, Albus," she said, wiping away the tear and making an effort to regain her composure.
"A Muggle vehicle will pull up outside the school gates; you may board it, and it will transport you directly to his location. The driver answers to the name Henry," the Headmaster nodded. "However, I must warn you that it would be wise to organize your thoughts before setting off. Whatever you choose to do from this moment forward demands careful consideration. If you so desire, you may visit him, but only at extended intervals—once or twice a month—for access to that realm is strictly restricted. Otherwise... though I have no wish to meddle in your affair, you must consider the generational gap: both of you ought to take this distance to reflect upon what you are willing to sacrifice before defining your future... If not, the alternative option would be to depart with him, face the harsh reality awaiting beyond that choice, and resign from your professorship at Hogwarts for a couple of years at least."
Minerva tensed. Albus's warnings operated like a moral dilemma; while she interpreted the "harsh reality" as the possibility that time might reveal their bond to be a fleeting romance, or the obvious disparity in their ages—meaning that after her death, Tom would still be a young man with children—the Headmaster's true reality pointed to the actual identity of that supposed "Tom."
"Take a few days to reflect, Minerva, and then..." Dumbledore insisted.
"There is no need, Albus... I know perfectly well what I want. I require no leaves of absence nor time for reflection: I will remain at Hogwarts," she declared, raising her eyes with determination. "I recognize that what binds me to Tom is... exceedingly complex. But even if I must raise these children on my own... knowing he is safe is enough for me. I do not plan to abandon my duties; I will continue at the helm of my position. Besides, it is not fair to burden that boy with such a heavy responsibility," she added, placing a hand over her abdomen. "It is for the best. He yearned for a quiet retirement, and my sole desire was to secure him a dignified life... I suppose things were meant to unfold this way. But... is he truly doing well?" she concluded with a thread of vulnerable voice.
"Better than ever... Though it will be best for you to see it for yourself. Henry is awaiting you at the entrance," the old wizard smiled.
"Thank you, Albus... I assure you I will reimburse every single Galleon of whatever arrangement you made with Andra, in addition to settling my debt with you," she expressed, standing up.
The overwhelming need to see Tom clashed with the panic clutching her chest. She wrestled internally with whether she ought to confess the truth of her condition to him. Perhaps this was the end of the line. Knowing he was free was enough, and she could conceal the existence of the children so as not to derail the young man's youth. Severing ties permanently might be the right path given the illicit nature of their bond, but the urge to see him one last time far outweighed her willpower.
Minerva left the office, located the Muggle automobile indicated by the Headmaster, and climbed into the backseat without hesitation. The driver offered her a polite nod and started the engine, launching the Deputy Headmistress's very first journey toward that extraordinary domain known as "the fief."