Minerva had always trusted Albus. For as long as she could remember she had help him on a sort of golden pedestal where he could do no wrong. Of course, she knew about his past, but everyone made mistakes. It was only natural for a boy of such caliber to have made some bad decisions in his life, especially when a very dark wizard was placed in his path. The aging witch had made some mistakes of her own in the past, so she really couldn’t judge based on such things.

It was harder, however, to explain such… poor decisions when the person in question was a full grown man and a respected Headmaster, not to mention all of Albus’s other titles. Minerva found herself starting to hold judgment for her friend and mentor of so many long years, and that hurt her to the core. She couldn’t believe some of the whisperings she’d heard from the many portraits in the castle, and yet… And yet she could.

There was one thing that Albus had proven time and again, and that was that he got what he wanted via any means necessary. Now, usually those means remained relatively good and pure, at least as far as she was aware, but sometimes this just wasn’t the case. Take last year for example. Potter had been kept in the dark for so long that she could barely stand seeing him, he was so distressed and she had wished that she had the answers for him. She’d practically begged Albus to talk to Potter, but he had said he knew what he was doing, and she believed him.

Minerva always believed him.

Even now, as she wandered the halls late into the night, Minerva wanted desperately to believe in the man who used to be her hero. He was still her leader, her mentor, and her friend. She had to believe in him. While she was sure the prefects could handle patrolling the halls, Minerva couldn’t sleep with so much on her mind, and so she wandered, hoping she wouldn’t hear anything else from the portraits, yet wishing they would tell her what to think. She needed to know what was going on around here. The Malfoy boy not hassling her lions, the dark mark suddenly appearing at a murder scene after nearly no activity from the Death Eaters in months, rumors about Potter gathering new friends close to his side…

Something was happening, and it was making Minerva very uneasy. Something bad was in the works. Something evil roamed her halls, and she didn’t know if it was necessarily unknown to her. She was frightened for once, because this evil could hit her right in the heart. “Oh, Albus,” she muttered, rounding a corner and blinking in the moonlight. “I hope you know what you’re doing…”

It was one of those nights. One of those nights when try as she might she could not fall asleep. Hermione had lay in her four poster tossing and turning behind it's drawn hangings until she could no longer stand it and slipped out of her bed and dormitory with just her pajamas and slippers on and only her wand in hand. The Gryffindor witch did not even consider waking one of her friends because she knew what ailed her and kept her awake and knew neither Ron nor Harry could help and not to mention Harry barely slept as it was so any he did get was worth more than her problems.

Normally the levelheaded one Hermione was growing more and more frustrated with this lack of focus and concentration she had developed as of late and not to mention the outrageous emotional turmoil she had landed herself in. She found herself unable to sit or stay still and abandoned the common room for a nighttime stroll. It was late and there was a chance she would get caught and even that was not enough to deter her. Hermione simply had to do something, anything, to get these thoughts out of her head and push these emotions she was feeling away for a while and so it was worth the risk.

It was not surprising that she didn't run into anyone on her way down the corridors. It was much too late for any patrolling prefects who had been on duty that night and Filch was probably stalking the astronomy tower but who knew where Mrs. Norris was. The moonlight streaming in through the many windows in the corridors provided enough light to see a good amount and every corridor looked deserted but Hermione wasn't paying much attention because if she had she might have heard the woman before she literally ran directly into her.

"Oompf!" The collision left the Gryffindor a little winded but thankfully she was coordinated enough to keep herself balanced and that was where her thanks ended because she found herself looking into the strict face of her own head of house, Professor McGonagall. Hermione had the decency to look ashamed even before being chastised. "Good evening professor." She managed to squeak out hoping beyond hope this encounter wouldn't see her losing points.

Her musings were roughly interrupted as the aging Gryffindor realized much too late that she was not alone in the hallway. A very familiar figure bumped rather forcefully into her, but Minerva held her ground, always able to keep her stance since training for the first war. She reached out quickly to grasp her star pupil’s shoulders, ensuring that the girl didn’t loser her balance even as she seemed to stop herself from falling over. Oh well. Better to be safe in instances wherein someone could be harmed. Especially when such harm would mean waking Poppy in the middle of the night. A tremor ran through Minerva’s bones at the very thought. That nurse did not appreciate being woken.

At first she looked sternly at the bushy haired muggleborn, but her eyes soon soften as she recognized the familiar look of anxiety in those knowing brown eyes. The girl was so much like Minerva it was rather unnerving, and she couldn’t help but feel something for her student. “Evening, Miss Granger,” she said softly, bowing her head a bit and allowing her lips to curl slightly into a small smile she reserved for those special members of her own house. She did not want Hermione to be afraid of her in this moment, as she really wasn’t hurting anything or anyone by wandering the silent halls. After all, that was exactly what her professor had been doing as well.

“It would seem there are two lions who cannot sleep so well tonight then,” she commented, voice very soft yet carrying in the empty stone corridor. Her eyes held a twinkle much like Dumbledore’s so often did, as she tried to show her brightest student that tonight she would be but a kindred soul. “Have you ever been told that you are too well-behaved for your own good?” Minerva had dropped her hands back to her sides at this point and was wearing a genuine smile that reached her crinkled eyes. “You need not look so ashamed for doing nothing wrong, Miss Granger. It isn’t as if you are sneaking about with someone. I dare say we all need to wander and think sometimes…”

With a sigh, Minerva thought back to her musings again. “I’d wager we find ourselves thinking about many of the same things even, and I know if this is true that you definitely have good reason to wander. It seems so difficult to think clearly when the castle is alive…” she trailed off and her tone was as silent and dreary as the air of the night. “Much easier to ponder things when the halls are silent with sleep and the stone is cold as death’s kiss.”

She shook herself from her dreary thoughts, and focused again on the bushy haired girl before her. “My dear, is there anything I might be able to help you think through?” She might not be able to figure her own problems out, but perhaps Minerva could at least bring some calm back to Hermione’s mind. It might at least sooth her own soul a bit to know she could still comfort her lions like a good guardian should.

A soft relieved sigh found it's way up her throat and out of her mouth once Hermione realized her Head of House wasn't going to hold this little midnight excursion against her. The Gryffindor knew it was rare for the transfiguration professor to be any kind of lenient with any student, especially her own. Professor McGonagall always expected the best of her own house. No more, no less, and in turn they had learned to respect her for her strictness and no-nonsense attitude. Hermione especially looked up to her head of house, and quite enjoyed any interaction with the professor. Unless she were getting in trouble and on the receiving end of that 'I'm-so-very-disappointed-in-you' look.

The bushy haired witch provided a small thankful smile in reply to her professor. "With all the trouble I've gotten up to in my years here Professor, I doubt anyone could say I am too well behaved." She replied equally softly, a hint of amusement in her voice. This sort of interaction was quite new to Hermione and she was a bit cautious as to how to play things, especially given recent discussions with her two best friends. Her eyebrows furrowed together in a thoughtful manner, wondering what could possibly be on her professor's mind that would correlate with anything that was occupying her own mind.

Hermione was quite sure that the thoughts of the headmaster and his betrayals of Harry that haunted her young yet clear mind were not the same as the no doubt adoring thoughts the older witch had of the same man. At the moment she was sure that the two of them couldn't have two more completely different views and perspectives of the headmaster, the transfiguration professor having always been one of Dumbledore's strongest and most avid supporters.

Yet some part of Hermione couldn't accept that, and maybe that was because she identified so much with the elder woman or perhaps because like the older witch, she had come to expect certain things from others. No matter which, she couldn't believe to her very core that the level headed and fair woman before could not see anything wrong with the headmaster's doings over the past few years and beforehand. Especially not when three teenagers could.

After hesitating for a brief moment, Hermione spoke softly. "Professor...have you ever, questioned, someone's motives for doing things? Someone who you always thought beyond reproach?" She asked, providing no names, and though these particular thoughts were not the reason for her outing, it felt good to finally voice some of her worries. Unlike Harry and Ron, it was hard for Hermione to go against those who they were supposed to trust, even if time and time again it had been proven that trust could be misplaced. It also beat discussing her actual reason for wandering the halls that night.

Minerva found she had to laugh at her student’s assessment. It was true that the know-it-all had been in her own fair share of trouble with her two best mates, but it would probably surprise the girl to know just how understanding her Head of House was about these things. Many people forgot that the professors had once been students as well. Minerva hadn’t been quite the goody-two-shoes everyone assumed. After all, just because one doesn’t get caught does not mean one was never up to no good.

She forced her mind to wander away from those lighter times and back to the present where the young witch proved yet again that she knew more than even she thought. There was no way the Gryffindor could know the thoughts that ran rampant through her Head’s mind, yet she said the words that nearly had them all tumbling, finally vocalized, from the aging witch’s lips. She wanted to tell this intelligent girl the troubles that plagued her very soul, yet she knew these were things she needed to figure out on her own. Minerva had to know for sure what was going on before she divulged any of her doubts to another person. She’d rather be silently correct and speak too late than say something too soon and be wrong about someone she held so dear. She’d never questioned Albus before. Why should she start now?

Realizing she’d been silent for probably a bit too long, Minerva cleared her throat and sighed at her student. She couldn’t lie to this girl. In all honestly, Minerva had a hard time lying to anyone. Perhaps it was that Gryffindor loyalty coursing through her veins. “Miss Granger,” she began, finding it difficult to choose the right words. “It is hard to come to terms with what our minds tell us, especially when those things go against our hearts. The thing about intelligent Gryffindors is that we have this intense need to remain loyal no matter what, but we also have the knowledge to question things; to question people.”

Minerva leaned against the nearest wall and rubbed her eyes, thinking of how like herself this young student was. She wished there was some way she could simply give the girl some answer, but the truth was that she didn’t have one. No one did. No one, that was, except those involved. And they were unapproachable, were they not? It was all so confusing and so… difficult. “The hardest thing is figuring out which to follow: head or heart. Alas, this is something I cannot even decide upon it would seem.” Yes, she might be giving the girl too much information, but the weight upon Minerva’s shoulders was becoming too much to bear alone. She simply had to talk to someone, and she instinctively knew that this conversation would remain between the two women.

“The thing is, Miss Granger,” she said softly, just coming to realize the truth of what she was about to say herself. “If we never question someone, we are setting ourselves up for failure. We are exposing ourselves to manipulation and blindly believing lies simply because they are stated by someone we trust or even love. You and I are intelligent women. We should know better. Yet our hearts tell us to close our eyes and follow. I think we both know what needs to be done, Miss Granger.”

This realization was somewhat unwelcome as Minerva realized just what she had to do. She needed to question her hero. She was going to demand the truth from the man she’d blindly follow to the ends of the earth before this conversation took place. It was terrifying and exhilarating, and in a way, she didn’t want an answer. Minerva didn’t want that magical view of Albus Dumbledore to crumble, yet she needed to know. Of course, he could lie. It was a chance she had to take. She’d go to him. Tonight. As soon as she’d finished comforting her cub.

The bushy haired witch listened intently to her professor, a woman who she both admired and strived to model after. The words were almost soothing to Hermione's ears for the fact that it sounded as if her mentor had the exact same problem Hermione herself did. The likelihood of that wasn't much though since this particular professor had always been so completely planted on the headmaster's side. It was more likely Snape would have a civil conversation with Harry before professor McGonogall questioned the headmaster. Then again, stranger things were known to happen.

It seemed the more her head of house spoke only seemed to lead to more questions than answers for Hermione, and her eyebrows drew together in thought as she considered and weighed the elder witch's words. On the one hand her professor could be experiencing the same issue with any number of people, and Hermione had given up any other possibility other than that professor McGonogall was having the same exact issue she was. On the other hand, it was too far unlikely that her head of house would be so concerned about questioning anyone else other than the headmaster, a man they all seemed to have trusted blindly.

This left Hermione at a sort of impasse. For while she didn't want to give up her position on the matter or that she herself as well as her two best friends were questioning the headmaster's motives, she was also all too well aware of the fact that her professor could be a vital ally for Harry, who had so few people who genuinely cared for him and his well being. The brown eyed witch bit her bottom lip in thought, considering which route to pursue. "Professor," Hermione started unsurely, a first for the know-it-all, "it sounds like you're having the same sort of misgivings I am.." The younger witch trailed off in a questioning manner, hoping to gather some idea as to who exactly her head of house was doubting in order to get a firmer grasp on the situation.

“Being the intelligent witch that I am, I must insist that I question everything, as I’m sure you can appreciate,” Minerva answered, unwilling to admit exactly who or what she was questioning. She was sure the girl knew deep down, but it was one thing to question and a whole different thing to admit to that questioning. The Transfiguration professor intended to keep her specific doubts to herself until she could confirm them.

It was her intention to figure out exactly what was going on tonight, one way or another. She wondered if she might be able to give her student a bit of her own advice. “Miss Granger, you should know, there are older and wiser people than me dwelling in these hallowed halls…” she trailed in a low tone, knowing she could get herself into trouble for divulging this fact. “You’ve read about them in one of your beloved tomes, I believe.” It was questionable whether or not the girl would immediately get to the conclusion Minerva intended her to reach, but she was sure it would eventually reach Hermione’s mind. After all, she was the brightest witch to grace Hogwarts with her presence in decades.

“I know who I shall turn to if my questions are not easily answered. Oil can still speak in this world, after all. Though they are a bit hidden, I’m sure they still have clear voices and clear eyes as well…” She winked at the young lion, going so far as to smile in a rather uncharacteristic manner as she made to walk away from the girl. “Now, I think I’ll head toward a certain tower… perhaps a couple of towers before this night is through. It is late, Miss Granger. You should get some sleep. Perhaps things will be clearer to you in the morning.”

With any luck, Minerva would have her answers well before then and the golden trio would be enlightened as to where they might find some answers before lunchtime. She waited for her student to make her way back to her den before she would go on her way to the Headmaster’s Tower. She had many questions for her mentor.