Professor McGonagall’s eyes ached. She felt exhausted from the day’s events. She had started her day greeting mourners for Dumbledore’s funeral, and then she had sat through the service, where she had to console a few students, as well as some teachers afterwards. At the end of the day, she’d had to address school with the end of term speech as she sent the students on their way home. The mood in the Great Hall was somber as she delivered her oration. But she held firm, and put on a strong front when she said good-bye to the children.
She sat by the fireplace with a glass of brandy in her hands. Her mind was heavy with thoughts of the school’s future, of the past events…and of Dumbledore. There was a time, long ago, when she had thought she would assume the role of Headmistress when Dumbledore retired “to go fishing” as he said. But she did not want the title this way - not like this.
Anger began to brew inside her. Professor McGonagall was furious. She hated being kept in the dark about things. She wondered why the two people she trusted most in the world wouldn’t tell her what was going on. She was furious at Dumbledore for keeping his recent exploits a secret. She was more furious with Snape for keeping his true nature from her. But when it came down to it, she despised herself for not seeing this coming.
Professor McGonagall looked around the Headmaster’s office. Dumbledore’s old trinkets still lay about, as if waiting for him to come back. She looked at the various portraits of the Headmasters of Hogwarts’ past. Professor McGonagall began to feel how large the shoes were that she was about to fill. She wondered if she was going to fill anything, as the Ministry had not decided yet to open the school for the next term.
Her eye caught Dumbledore’s portrait, which still slept in its frame.
“Oh, Albus.” Tears fell as she spoke to his picture. “Why wouldn’t you confide in me? We were friends for so long. You knew how far I would go for you! Why couldn’t you trust in me?” she asked the canvas.
But Dumbledore did not respond . He remained at peace behind the frame. Minerva took another swig of her brandy. Her grief, combined with the liquor, had her falling into a drunken slumber.
“Why, Albus?” she mumbled.
Professor -
“I’m your friend. Why…?”
She fell off to sleep.
-McGonagall?
Her mind found itself wandering down a long, dark corridor. Professor McGonagall heard a voice calling out to her, but she could not find the person who spoke. The voice sounded vaguely familiar. She moved a little further down the hall to find a door at the end of the corridor.
Professor McGonagall?
She heard the voice again on the other side. “I’m coming,” she said. She turned the handle and walked into a room with multiple entries.
What is going on here? she thought. The door closed behind her, and the room started to spin. It spun so quickly she began to feel dizzy.
Minerva?
Professor McGonagall heard the voice again. “I’m on my way,” she answered back. Once the room stopped moving, she regained her composure and determined that the voice came from the door ahead of her.
She walked to it and turned the handle. On the other side of the door was a very small space no bigger than a standard closet.
“Well, this can’t be it,” McGonagall observed. She turned around to leave, but the door had closed behind her.
She was trapped.
Professor McGonagall tried to remain calm, but deep down inside she felt herself about to panic. She’d always had a fear of tight spaces. She did not remember how long she has been claustrophobic, or how it even began, yet for as long as she could remember, being in small places had always made her feel uncomfortable.
The space was so dark that she could not see her hand in front of her face. Trying to stay strong, McGonagall started her breathing exercises she remembered from an anxiety seminar held at St. Mungo’s.
She tried the door again, but it was no use.
Professor McGonagall kept up her breathing, but now her intake grew a little faster. She tired to remain calm, but all her hope slowly drained away from her with every useless turn of the handle.
Her anxiety attack took over. She went from calm breathing to hyperventilating. Her soul was void of all hope. Her mind was so panicked that she transfigured back and forth from a cat to her human self. She lost all train of thought and forgot how to stay in control.
She didn’t know how to do it, but she knew one thing - she had to get free of this place.
“Oh, mercy! Please open! Please!” she begged the door.
Minerva…
Professor McGonagall stopped. She quickly regained her composure and started to listen to the voice that called her. She strained to hear the sound, as her heartbeat was loud in her ears.
Minerva, come this way.
“Come which way?” she yelled as she moved her hands along the walls of the cramped space.
Minerva…
Professor McGonagall strained to hear a little more. The voice was not in front of her or to the side. It seemed as if it came from below her. She tried to bend down to listen, but saw how futile that was. The room was too tight. She transformed to her Animagus form to be at the level of the sound.
Sure enough, there was a small opening at the base of a wall, and it was just small enough for her cat-like frame to fit. Using her feline agility, she darted into the opening, hoping that nothing else would go wrong as she made her way out.
It did not take long for her to get through. As she walked, she could see a strange orange glow ahead. McGonagall moved cautiously, hoping fire wasn’t about to greet her.
To her relief, the place she entered was much larger than the previous room, and brighter, too. It felt as though she was outdoors just as the sun was about to set. She transformed back into a human so she could get a better view of her surroundings. Professor McGonagall saw that she stood at the base of an amphitheater, with tiers of stone benches all around her. And then, to her surprise, an old, familiar object stood a few feet away.
“What is this?” she said as she walked towards the object.
In the middle of the room was an ancient archway sitting on top of its dais.
“What is the meaning of this? Why am I here?”
Minerva, this way.
She looked around again, but still could not find the voice that’s summoning her. She could tell that the voice emanated from somewhere at the center of the amphitheater, from the veil. She also could see strange shadows looming in the background, just at the top of the tiers. She couldn’t make out the figures that swarmed about, but she could tell by their movements and their faint whispers that trouble was about to start.
Something was wrong.
As familiar as the place was, she knew it wasn’t the same room she had just been in at the Ministry. She confirmed this as she got closer to the dais. From what she remembered, the veil had blown outward at the entrance, as if some gust of air was blowing from the other side. But from where she stood, she could see the veil now moved in the opposite direction.
Her stomach knotted as a chill went down her spine. She soon realized her position.
“Am I behind the veil?”
Minerva, this way.
Professor McGonagall still could not see who called out to her. But as she got closer to the archway, she knew where the voice came from.
The voice came from the veil.
Come this way, Minerva. Walk through the veil.
“Walk through the veil? Are you mad?” she said.
But then she reconsidered. Am I mad for following a voice I can’t see?
Professor McGonagall didn’t understand the voice’s request. She knew that people who walked through the veil didn’t return. Yet, if she was behind the veil, then what possible harm could come to her if she walked through? After all, it was more dangerous to be where she was then on the other side. But should she take advice from someone that she could not see? Could walking through the veil lead her straight into a trap? But wasn’t she trapped, anyway, if she was behind the veil? She was unsure if she should take the risk.
Good heavens, she thought as she tried to weigh her options - but then it became clear to her as to what she must do. If she stayed, she would be trapped. There were no other exits around her. And then there were the shadows.
The shadows looming at the top of the tiers made their way down. Some of them had already reached the base of the amphitheater, and now circled the dais.
She had no choice now.
Walk through, Minerva. Walk through the veil.
Ridding herself of her doubts, she closed her eyes and stepped through the archway.
A few more steps and she was on the other side. She was just in time, too, as the shadows were progressing towards her. Professor McGonagall hesitated before opening her eyes. She had been through a dark hallway, a spinning room, a cramped closet, and had just narrowly escaped the opposite side of the veil.
What’s next? she thought to herself.
To her surprise, it wasn’t as dark, cramped, or eerie as other rooms had been. This room was a little dim…but it shimmered. All the walls shimmered around her.
“This is interesting,” she said as she walked further in.
There was a positive atmosphere running through the room. She actually felt her spirit lift as she took in her new surroundings. Professor McGonagall saw some movement over at one of the walls, and she moved in closer to investigate. Once there, she came to a mirror. The mirror looked almost like the Mirror of Erised but slightly different. Yet it functioned just the same for she saw a beautiful image of Hogwarts in springtime.
All the students were playing on Hogwart’s grounds. A few were in the air, practicing their Quidditch moves. Everyone was happy and loving life. Everyone was safe. It was as if the war had never started.
“Wonderful, isn’t it,” came a dark voice.
Minerva’s anger rose upon recognition.
“HOW DARE YOU!” she exclaimed. She reached for her wand, only to find she didn’t have it.
“Here,” he said, as he handed it to her. “And if you like, I’ll stand still so you won’t miss.”
Severus Snape stood directly in front her. McGonagall stood, seething with anger, and stared him down. Snape took a couple of steps forward, and the tip of her wand touched directly upon his chest.
“Now all we need is a curse, and you’ll be done,” he said in his usual emotionless tone.
“What are you doing?!”
“You’d prefer to strangle me then?” Professor Snape dropped to his knees to allow her access to his neck. Professor McGonagall took a few cautions steps away so that she could give him a good hard look.
“You’re not really here, are you?” she asked. But she knew the answer.
“Not physically. But part of me, the part you don’t despise so much, is here with you.” He stood up and walked over to the mirror to take in the view of the school. “I remember when we moved a mirror like this into Hogwarts. When we finally got it to its resting place, we both looked in it and saw -”
“Are you telling me that this mirror shows me my greatest desires and wishes?”
“Yes,” he said.
“And you came from this mirror?” she asked again.
“More or less, yes,” he replied.
“Then tell me why, Severus! I need to know why you did it! Why did you kill Albus?” Her voice started to break into tears.
“As much as you need to know the truth, I have a greater need to protect you from it. And for now, that takes precedence.”
“Precedence? Damn this precedence, Severus! You owe me answers! I need to know why! Why?” Her arms flung at his chest as she repeated the question, yet he did not run or duck away from her. He just stood there, rooted to the floor, accepting the brunt of her anger until she grew tired of swinging at him. Finally, Professor McGonagall broke down and cried in his arms.
“Remember when I first gave this to you?” he asked as he pulled out a lace handkerchief. McGonagall nodded. “I told you that if there was ever a time when I’ve wronged you, frustrated you, or completely enraged you, you were to pull this out and remember that I never intended to do so. And you were to use this to wipe your tears in case I was not there to wipe them for you.” He placed the lace in her hands and wiped the tears that were left on her face.
“I know it’s bad right now. But someday you will understand what I have done.”
“When, Severus?” she asked.
“I don’t know. But I hope soon.”
As they stood together, they found themselves surrounded by friends and other familiar faces. They gathered to greet McGonagall and to show her their support. McGonagall was pleased to see the faces that had left her life so long ago. Snape took a few steps away so she could receive them.
“Minerva?” said a voice. Professor McGonagall looked to see a strong, beautiful woman with deep green eyes, just like her son’s.
“Oh, Lily!”
The hug seemed to last forever. Everyone wanted some time with McGonagall. They wanted her to stay and talk for a while longer, but McGonagall knew she couldn’t.
“This war seems to be taking so many. We barely had time to spend with each other when I was alive. Surely you could stay just a little while? Just to catch on things… and on Harry?” Lily asked. Professor McGonagall knew she couldn’t oblige.
The others understood and bid her farewell.
McGonagall went to the door that Professor Snape stood at. He opened it to bid her adieu.
“Do you know where this leads?” she asked Snape.
“This is your journey. Who am I to tell you where it goes?”
Her hand still held the knob as the door shut behind her. She wanted terribly to race back to the others and gather as much solace from them that she could, but again she knew she had to go on. She took one final look at the door before she turned to step in the other direction. But as she turned, she realized that she wasn’t on the ground any longer.
“Well, isn’t this a fine kettle of fish,” she mumbled as she floated around.
She saw a woman on the ground just below her. “Excuse me, miss? Some help please!”
The woman did not respond. Professor McGonagall was rather put off by this woman’s rudeness, but she tried talking again as she moved a little closer to the woman.
“Miss, excuse me, but…can …you…?”
McGonagall realized why the woman was so quiet. The woman she was trying to grab the attention of…was herself.
Good heavens. Am I dead? she wondered as she looked at herself outside of her body. She tried to get closer, but found there was a barrier around her body.
“Well, this is not good.” She kept her calm as she floated around, trying to assess the situation.
“Finite,” she said, and the barrier around her body disappeared. Professor McGonagall let out a sigh of relief. Now she just needed to get back into her body. She tried to step into her body, but found it didn’t work.
“Well, I suppose that would have been too easy.” She resorted to using a charm.
She concentrated on the words to the spell…and nothing happened. She tried again, and still no effect. She could not recall the words. Professor McGonagall started to chuckle as she saw the irony in her situation.
“How can I forget this spell? I’ve been a Hogwarts professor since 1956. I took Charms at N.E.W.T. level in my day. I’ve even substituted for the class a few times. And now, I can’t remember the bloody words!” She started to laugh even more. “I must be under a Confundus Charm.”
She took a deep breath after the last laugh escaped her, and concentrated on her situation.
I need to get back in place…
how do I get myself in this place?
I need to get my self back into my body…
back into place…
into place…
place…
And then the words to the Placement Charm came into mind. She spoke the words and found herself back in her body.
Professor McGonagall patted herself down to make sure all of her essence was in place.
“That’s more like it,” she said.
She looked around to see that she was in a dark, cobblestone room. There were no windows she could see, but there were dimly lit torches just ahead of her.
As she made her way across the room, she came to an object in the middle of her path. It looked like an oddly shaped sculpture. It was as tall as she was, and made of chains that linked through several rows of iron hoops. The hoops had candles along the underside of their edges. The lights from the candles seem to burn from the bottom instead of from the top.
“Interesting piece of work,” she said as she admired the craftsmanship. McGonagall reached for her glasses to look at it more closely, but her specs slipped out of her hand and fell...up.
“Accio,” she yelled as she pointed at her glasses. As she looked above her, she could see the courtroom for the Wizengamot. She could clearly view the rows of benches perched on the balcony, and the lone chair that sat in the center with the magical chains laid out to the sides.
Professor McGonagall could now make out that this sculpture she was looking at wasn’t some form of abstract art, but a chandelier that hung in the middle of this courtroom, hence the way the candles burned.
“This gets stranger by the moment,” McGonagall said grimly as she became aware of her up-side-down position. Feeling worried, she carefully glided her feet across the floor, careful not to lift them up for fear of falling. Inch by inch she made her way to the other side of the room.
She came to the wall and started to look around.
“Now how do I get out?”
She looked around again, hoping that the exit would be nearby. But then, realizing her position, she knew she needed to look up. As she looked further up the wall, she could see the exit on the other end.
“It’s never simple, is it?” She raised her hands to perform a levitation spell, but abruptly stopped. “If I levitate up, which is essentially down, wouldn’t I fall down as I’m trying to move up?”
McGonagall’s hands rested on her hips as she contemplated this new predicament. She felt uneasy about taking her feet off the ground, so levitating was out of the question. But she needed a way out.
“Never simple indeed,” she said, looking along the wall.
She noticed the torches along the walls burned in the same way the candles did on the chandelier. She also noticed there was a row of torches leading straight to the door. She grabbed one of them and felt it was pretty sturdy. She cast a spell to blow out the torches in the row that led to the door.
“Never simple.” In the most graceful and dignified way possible, Professor McGonagall hiked up her robe and climbed to the door, using the torches as stepping-stones along the way.
“Well, that should count as my exercise for the day,” Professor McGonagall said as she reached the door.
She entered an empty room with no fixtures or ornaments of any kind. It was a blank room with every wall as identical as the next.
“There’s no exit here,” she observed as she looked around the place. “Time to move on, then.”
She turned to walk back to the entrance, but saw that the door had shut…and disappeared. McGonagall let out a low grumble as she saw her means for escape dematerialize. She walked back to the center of the room to go over her options once more.
Then suddenly, a loud, rumbling noise filled her ears. It sounded as if stone was grinding on top of stone.
“Heavens!” McGonagall tried hard to concentrate above the ruckus, but the sound was too loud. “Silencio!” she yelled, and the room went quiet. “That’s more like it,” she said.
A new problem arose as Professor McGonagall noticed the stone walls, now silent, had begun to move.
She was being closed in.
Panic threatened to overwhelm her again. Her fear of small spaces started to cloud her mind and her judgment. She was about to lose control.
“Oh, mercy! Please, no!”
Concentrating harder and breathing through the anxiety, she remembered the faces of her friends she had left in the glimmering room. She remembered the scene in the mirror of the children and the school.
Everyone had been safe. And she would be. A fire stirred within her as she felt herself kick into survivor mode.
“Impedimenta!” The walls slowed down, but did not completely stop. She had to work faster.
“Where is this blasted door?!” She looked around, but could not see anything, only the walls. “It must be hidden.”
“Revelio,” Professor McGonagall said, casting the Revealing Charm. The spell moved quickly around the room, bouncing from wall to wall until it reached its target.
The door appeared just in time. McGonagall walked through the exit.
Professor McGonagall leaned up against a wall. She felt a mixture of anxiety and resentment for having to go through these tasks.
“What am I doing this for? What is the reason for all this?” she wondered aloud.
She remembered asking herself similar questions when she was told of Dumbledore’s death. What am I going to do? Where will the students go? Why did this have to happen?
The old anger started to stir within her again. She had felt offended Dumbledore didn’t confide in her with what he had been doing. She’d kept asking him where he had been going when he’d taken those long trips outside of Hogwarts, but he hadn’t told. He’d just smiled and convinced her to have some tea and talk about how her day had gone.
She hated how he used to dodge the subject.
And then there was Snape. Snape was someone she’d trusted, helped, and even considered an ally. McGonagall had often worried about him, as he held such close ties with the Dark Lord. Yet it would seem that after all this time, this was just a game of his - a dark ploy for some other scheme he was running. Because in the end, it was Snape who had dealt the blow that had killed Dumbledore. And now, even here, Snape would not tell her why.
It felt as though no one would - or could - trust her with the truth.
“I’m getting out of here!” McGonagall shouted. Her anger spurred her on. She didn’t know where this journey was headed, but she was sick and tired of this place. “I’ll show them! They think I can’t handle it? As if I’ve never dealt with tough situations! Did they think I would buckle if they let me in on their secrets? I won’t!”
As she reached the middle of the stone enclosure, she saw some kind of wounded creature on the ground. As she got closer, she saw that it was not an ordinary creature, but a Patronus - her Patronus. It was an owl that looked ravaged, beaten, and exhausted. The poor animal looked as if it had been through the ringer, and had most of its feathers pulled out.
“Oh, my! Let me help you.”
But as soon as McGonagall reached out, the owl snapped. It screeched and flapped its wings wildly as it tried to attack her. The beast was enraged, and McGonagall could sense that its anger was directed at her.
“I’m trying to help you!” she yelled.
The owl wouldn’t listen. It flew up in the air, but stopped short. Chains grounded its flight. McGonagall could see that the chains were attached to a door - attached to her exit.
The bird screeched again, then dove, headed straight for McGonagall. She transformed into a cat just in time, and darted out of the owl’s way before she got caught up in its talons. She and the owl dashed back and forth around the room until she reached a corner just out of the owl’s reach. She now stood opposite the exit.
“What are you doing? I mean you no harm!”
The last time McGonagall had seen a Patronus act this strangely was just recently, when she was with Tonks. Tonks had sent out her Patronus when she patrolled the school grounds. That poor beast had looked just as haggard as this one. But Tonk’s hadn’t been angry. It had just been sad and pathetic-looking. McGonagall discovered later it was Tonk’s feelings towards Remus causing the Patronus to look that way.
Then the idea hit her. All the anger and resentment she had been feeling inside didn’t affect just her. The bitterness and the sense of betrayal from her friends had affected her Patronus, too.
“I’m sorry.” She took a deep breath to let go all of the anger she had held onto the last few days. “I’m so sorry.” The owl seemed a little hesitant, but still reacted out of anger. Professor McGonagall took out her wand and aimed it at the bird.
“Expecto Patronum!”
The positive energy burst forth from her wand and struck the owl. It chirped loudly, as if it was in pain, but she could see that all that negative energy it contained was being negated through the positive force.
The owl returned to normal.
“I should have realized. I can’t keep tearing myself down over things I can’t control,” McGonagall told herself.
The bird hooted in agreement with her. McGonagall moved the chain from the exit and attached it to the other door.
“I’m sorry, old friend. I should have known better.”
The bird nodded in acceptance of her apology.
Professor McGonagall left the owl behind and moved onto the next room. “Am I awake now?” she asked.
Professor McGonagall looked around as she entered Dumbledore’s office. It looked the same as it had before she’d started on this strange journey. The fire still roared in the fireplace, and all the portraits, including Dumbledore’s, still slept in their frames.
McGonagall felt flustered and exhausted. As she looked around the room, she wondered if she was still sleeping or if she was awake. Was there a point in doing all these tasks? Or was she made to suffer for no reason? She wondered if she’d experienced the trip at all.
What’s the point? she asked herself.
She walked over to the desk and pulled open the drawer with the stash of brandy in it. She poured herself a drink, as she had before, and made her way to the soft armchair.
“Maybe it was stress?” she said as she sat down. “I could have been so stressed that I’ve hallucinated the whole thing.”
Yes, that’s it.
“Maybe I had a walking dream? I have heard that can happen.”
Of course it can! It happens every day.
“Yes, that’s what it was. I had a walking dream.” McGonagall eased herself into the armchair. The voice inside her head comforted her.
Yes, you’re right! It was all a bad dream.
She started to relax. All of the tension and knots from the stress she’d endured started to unwind. The ache in her feet subsided. She felt content.
Yet something pressed on her mind she felt she needed to tend to.
“What did I come here for?”
You came to relax - to escape.
“I do feel tired. But…wasn’t there something else?”
There’s nothing else. You don’t have anything to worry about.
McGonagall moved around in her seat. Her body found a nice spot for her to melt into. She propped her feet up on the ottoman in front of the chair to get more comfortable. All the fear and frustration from the day had loosened its grip on her. She closed her eyes and savored the peace and tranquility the armchair offered.
There’s nothing to worry about.
Everything is under control.
You’re safe now.
All is going according to plan.
“To whose plan?” she lazily asked the voice in her head.
Why…HISsss plan, of course.
A sudden chill went down her spine as the hissing buzzed in her ears. McGonagall’s eyes flew wide open, and she shot straight up from the chair. She came to her senses as she remembered everything that had occurred. All the fear and frustration she had let go of slowly returned to her, and she welcomed them. It renewed her strength and urgency to carry on.
“I’m afraid I will not be participating in this plan of HIS.” She threw the brandy into the fire and watched the flames turn green. A snakelike figured bloomed out of the smoke.
“No. HE will not have his way with me.”
She saw another door on the opposite side of the room and took her exit.
Professor McGonagall looked at this new area. It was an empty room with black marble floors and no barriers, shadows, or a pit of shimmering walls. The room was plain and simple, with the exit waiting on the other side. She even saw the key to the exit hanging beside the door, waiting to be used. It all seemed pretty straightforward.
“What? There’s no catch?” McGonagall chuckled to herself as she stood at the doorway. She’d been through so much that she expected almost anything. “Surely there must be something?” Her answer came to her moments later as she took a couple of steps into the room.
SPLASH!
Whether it was due to her feline or human nature, Professor McGonagall hated the water. Drinking it or bathing in it was one thing; floating around or swimming in it was something else. The room offered no buoy or platform for her to stand on, so she waded in the water as she thought through her next move.
Deducing the floor was a ruse to lure someone into the room, she decided that the key hanging next to the door acted as the same.
Oh, how clever, she thought as she kept herself afloat.
She looked around for something, knowing there had to be another answer to this riddle. Just then, her eye looked to the water as flash of shimmering light grabbed her attention. Reluctantly, she ducked her head into the pool and saw the key at the very bottom.
With a simple Bubble-Head Charm I can swim my way down and grab the key, she thought. But that would be too simple. She didn’t take the bait. If there was anything this journey had taught her, it was that nothing was ever that simple. She kept looking.
Since she couldn’t see anything else around her, she turned her attention above. And there it was - another key. Professor McGonagall wondered if this could be the one. It still looked too simple
to her.
“Accio,” she said. Nothing happened. “Accio key,” she tried again, but to no avail. The key remained hung from the ceiling.
“That must be it, then,” she decided. McGonagall figured from the proximity of the key and that it would not come with the Summoning Charm, then it was definitely the one because of the level of difficulty. All she had to do was get it - but how?
“Well, since the mountain won’t come to Mohammed - or to Minerva, in this case.”
Concentrating, Professor McGonagall ascended to the ceiling. As she got near, she didn’t feel any forces preventing her from reaching the object. As she put her hand on the item, she was a bit surprised she wasn’t getting attacked with a spell or charm. With a gentle pull, the key fell into her hands. McGonagall got back into the water and swam for the exit.
The key worked like she knew it would.
The door flew wide open. She found herself outside on a beautiful spring morning. The sky was bright and clear blue, with no clouds in sight. It was simply breathtaking.
From the way the parapet looked, Professor McGonagall figured she was in the Astronomy Tower. The thought of being in the place where Dumbledore had been killed left her a little unsettled. But as she viewed the grounds of school, the whole scene put her soul at ease.
McGonagall saw the students running around and playing. A few were on their broomsticks practicing their Quidditch moves in the air. Everyone was safe, as if the war had never happened.
It’s just like it was in the mirror, she thought to herself.
“Good weather we’re having,” said a familiar voice.
McGonagall turned around to be greeted by her old friend, Albus Dumbledore.
“I was beginning to wonder if you would ever come,” he said.
McGonagall looked appalled, “You mean it was you who put me through all those tasks? You were trying to test me?” A hint of shock and betrayal echoed in her voice. Did I not prove myself to him when I joined the Order, and during all those times in school? Can’t he trust me? She shot Dumbledore an accusing glare, but he continued to smile as he took her hand.
“My good woman, I‘ve always trusted you, whether you believed me or not. Those tasks were of your own doing, not mine. I’ve been here all this time waiting for you. But for some reason you were not ready to see me…not until now.”
Professor McGonagall felt a little embarrassed as everything started to make sense. Ever since Dumbledore’s death, she had wondered if she could have done something more to have prevented the whole thing. She had even wondered if she’d done something wrong that would have been viewed as disloyal by him. Maybe that was why he had kept things from her. Her grief had had her feeling responsible for what had happened to him. If he’d confided in her, then maybe she could’ve been there to protect him. She couldn’t stop wondering - it was too hard to let go.
“Albus, why wouldn’t you tell me?” Her eyes looked to his, pleading for the truth.
“Minerva, above all things I hold you most dear. As stubborn as you are, I knew you would follow me to my own death. I did not want you at risk. I needed you here at this school, to be safe. I needed you to carry on.”
“But you could have left those tasks to other members of the Order! I’m sure Lupin, Moody, or Shacklebolt would have taken the assignments you were doing. Yet instead, you went on these missions alone and put yourself in danger, knowing you had duties here at this school!” McGonagall retorted.
“I know, Minerva,” he responded. His eyes conveyed his understanding of her worriment. “I was perfectly aware of the risks.”
“Then why? Why did you put yourself in danger?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.
“I felt I owed it to him, Minerva. I felt I owed it to Tom.”
“Tom? You mean Voldemort? What are you saying?” She looked astonished by his comment. What can Dumbledore possibly owe Voldemort that he’d risk his life to do? she wondered.
“No, I mean Tom Riddle, Jr. Although he grew up to be the villain we know, I owe it to the memory of the boy I gave his first Hogwarts letter to all those years ago.” Dumbledore looked rather reflective as he reminisced through the past. “I wasn’t as hands-on then as I was when Harry first came to Hogwarts. I didn’t feel it was a teacher’s place to become overly attached to the students. So even though I saw all the warning signs that surrounded Tom, all I did was sit back and kept my eye on him when I knew I could have done something more.”
“Like what, Albus? What could you have done to stop him?”
“I’m not sure, Minerva. I’m not exactly sure when young Tom went down that dark road he’s on. But part of me has always felt I should have been there for him and averted him from that path. I should have done more than just have kept my eye on him.” Dumbledore moved closer to look over the edge of the parapet to get the full view of the grounds. He smiled as he waved to the students that passed by or flew around on the broomsticks. “This is why I need you here, Minerva. This is why I trust you. Because if anything should ever happen to me, I know you will fight for this school.
“You’ve seen the talent that has walked through these doors. You know how impressionable they are at this age. If this school doesn’t open for them in the next term, then where will they go? What influences will over-take them?”
McGonagall couldn’t look at him. She knew it was true.
“If someone doesn’t convince the Ministry to keep the school open, then more students will be stranded at the crossroads of life, wondering if it’s easier to go down that dark path.
If there isn’t some positive influence who will teach them how to use their powers for what’s right, then there will be others waiting in the wings to pick up the torch for evil. Voldemort will win and all the Toms of this time will be lost.”
Dumbledore took McGonagall by the hand and waved his wand to change the scenery. They were standing by the lake, and had a view Hogwarts at sunrise. Dumbledore had on some Muggle fishing clothes with a matching hat that had fishing lures around it. He put a large tackle box into a boat that rested on the lake’s shore. Then Dumbledore walked back to McGonagall and grabbed both her hands to kiss them.
“You are a teacher, Minerva. No matter how cliché it sounds, you know these children are our future. If this school is not there to guide them, then what kind of future will we have?” Dumbledore hugged her fiercely. McGonagall did not want to let go, but she knew her journey had come to an end. She could feel his breath in her hair as he planted one last kiss. “Do not let this school close, my dear. Do not let it close on my account and have this legacy end with me! Promise me, Minerva! “
“I won’t let it close, Albus. I promise I won’t.” Tears streamed down her face as she held him once last time.
Dumbledore got in his boat and waved his wand to start it in motion. He looked back to her and said, “Someday, when this is all over, you’ll be able to look back and remember me this way. You’ll remember how I left you in charge of the school as I start my retirement doing my favorite pastime.”
McGonagall started to chuckle as she recounted how big those fish stories were getting every year they came back from break.
“And Minerva, watch out for the glass!”
What?
CRACK!
Her eyes flew wide open as the sound of the brandy glass hitting the floor woke her from her dream. It was morning, and McGonagall was back in the office just as before. Dobby, the house elf, came in with a tray of tea.
“Morning, Headmistress,” he squeaked. Dobby’s eyes looked wider then normal. She could tell that he’d been crying. “Is there anything else Dobby can get for you, Miss?”
Dumbledore’s words were still fresh on her mind. McGonagall knew what she had to do. A strong sense of urgency filled her. She knew she must move quickly, before it was too late.
“Send an owl to the Ministry, Dobby. Advise them that I request an audience with Minister Scrimgeour immediately. Tell him the Headmistress of Hogwarts needs to speak with him.”
