Minerva had not intended to attend, an array of responsibilities had been offered as an excuse to avoid the meeting. Yet Albus had insisted. As the items on the agenda had been addressed, the professor had found herself wondering why her presence had been so hastily requested. Though in times of war every matter becomes a personal concern, she struggled to identify the true purpose of her presence. Even as tasks had been distributed, her name had been overlooked.
She had been getting ready to leave, cloak on her shoulders and undesirable walking stick in hand when Albus had interrupted her. He wanted a word with her if she was willing to wait a few minutes. A conversation with Severus appeared to require his attention first; an occurrence Minerva had observed repeatedly as of late.
While the Order members left, the two men retreated to another room to have their conversation. Leg already stiff due to the weather, Minerva sat at one of the many vacant chairs. Left without the chatter of Order members, silence forced her to contemplate her grim surroundings. Nothing like the mischevious young man she had taught, everything in this house echoed of the heritage he had vehemently resisted.
The all too familiar pang of grief she felt when she thought of her fallen students seemed to intensify as the times grew darker. As the disciple of discipline she was Minerva dismissed the grisly sentiment and waved her wand towards a nearby teapot. Might as well have a teacup while she waited.
"Would you like some tea?" She asked the only other person who seemed to have lingered behind.