Alisa blinked.
The word sanctuary seemed dangerously soft and impossibly large. "You would—allow me to stay at Hogwarts? Just like that?"
"Yes." McGonagall's eyes did not shift away from hers. "We will not make a spectacle of you. You shall remain, under supervision, in spare rooms in the Transfiguration tower. You will attend whatever classes you find helpful—transfiguration, runic theory, defensive work if you wish—and you will be given access to the library."
She allowed, for the first time, something like a small, weary smile. "You will also be expected to observe the school's rules while you are under our roof."
Alisa's first thought was pure paranoia: surveillance, containment. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.
Her second thought, though—which was so small she might have missed it if she were not listening for it—was that she might not have to hunt books across borders and ancient tombs, or hide from the world while trying to keep everyone safe.
I could learn here. McGonagall would also be a moment away, probably willing to answer any question in transfiguration.
There was one last thing on her mind now.
"Why would you help me?" Alisa asked, her voice was more fragile than she intended. "You do not owe me—"
McGonagall's mouth tightened as she barely shook her head.
"No," she said. "I do not. I stood once over an attempt to break a soul-bind and failed. An innocent died because I was presumptuous. I have carried that for years. If I can do any good—if there is a shame I can rectify—then I will try. That is not repayment; that is duty."
Alisa sat very still.
The woman's confession landed like a stone into a still pond, the ripples spreading into corners Alisa had not known were tender. How many people knew about that?
"Will the staff know?" Alisa asked. "The teachers?"
"Only those who need to know," McGonagall answered. "And they will know the barest requirements, even the headmaster."
There was a pause where neither woman spoke. Outside, the wind tapped at the stonework as if impatient.
"It will be difficult," McGonagall said at last, more quietly. "Students will ask questions. The Ministry may ask questions. I will keep what I can in my office. If you are willing to act as a careful guest and be guided by our precautions, I will help you as much as I can."
Alisa thought of the Ministry report calling her the Wandless Witch.
She thought of people dying for no reason other than some demon being in a mood.
She thought of the circle that kept the fragment in her cabin, whispering and clawing. She thought of the dick she had not shown.
She said, "I do not want to cause trouble for Hogwarts."
"You will not," McGonagall said, with the unshakeable certainty of someone used to calming down the people surrounding her. "We will prevent that."
Alisa's mouth had already started shaping the question she feared: how long would McGonagall wait before demanding answers? Could she really live peacefully inside the legendary castle?
"Attend whatever classes interest you," McGonagall said. "If you take Transfiguration, I will ask to be at your first lesson to observe—I usually teach our most advanced classes. You are not a registered pupil; you'll be a guest-scholar. Choose to study whatever you want, but—trust me when I say, you shouldn't hide from the residents of the castle. I'm sure if you reach out to certain students, you'll be more than a little surprised with the relationships you will form."
Alisa shot her a dubious look, but nodded nonetheless.
Learning had always been at the centre of her life—before Russia, before the rift—but it had been a lonely thing, pages and experiments and the cold comfort of formulas. The suggestion that she should sit in lessons with other young witches and wizards was almost violent in its normality.
"Will they accept me?" she asked, the question sounding petty even to her own ears.
McGonagall's eyes finally showed something beyond sternness: pity, and something like approval. "Children and teenagers will be children and teenagers. They will be curious, and sometimes cruel. You must be cautious. But like I said. Give them a chance."
Alisa's laugh this time was short and ugly. "I do not want allies that will have to carry me."
"You do not need to admit weakness to accept help," McGonagall said quietly. "Allies are not carriers; they are people who choose to stand with you."
Alisa thought about it a bit more and guessed that the professor was right…
There was another practicality—food, robes, and schooling matters. McGonagall dismissed them with a precise wave.
"The school will provide essentials. You shall be registered as a temporary scholar, and we will inform—only when necessary—the relevant parties. You will be asked to submit to an assessment for your own safety and others'."
"Will I just… start walking and attending classes in the castle?" Alisa asked.
"Yes, McGonagall answered simply. "I repeat that you are free do whatever you want, like all the students. On the matter of your…disfigurement—" the professor used the word with a surprising gentleness, "—you need not expose yourself to me. If there is a part of you you cannot show, tell me only as much as you feel comfortable. The diagnostics I will use can be non-invasive. I will not force you."
Alisa managed a small, brittle nod. "I have not shown it to anyone."
"Then you shall not do so until you trust me," McGonagall's voice was quiet. "We will proceed at your pace."
After a long minute, Alisa said, "If I stay, will the Ministry be able to place restrictions on me?"
McGonagall's lips pressed together. "The Ministry will do no such thing! If they ask questions, I will evade them, and if I can't do so, I'll keep at the barest minimums. Hogwarts stands as a sanctuary in many circumstances. If necessary, I will speak for you."
It was more than Alisa had allowed herself to hope, and she had a hard time stopping her jaw from hanging.
When she rose to go, McGonagall produced a pink key from a drawer and laid it on the desk.
"You will be given a set of spare robes and a key to the guest rooms," she said. "Take the Transfiguration tower. The stairs that lead to the east window will let you enter unseen. You may dine in the staff wing until you feel comfortable in the Hall."
Alisa took the key silently and without looking at it, holding the small weight as if it were proof she had made a decision.
"Thank you for everything," she managed to say before McGonagall gently sent her away and put her under the care of a house elf.
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