Disclaimer: I own none of the characters in this, Bloomsbury books and JK
Rowling do. I hope they don't mind me using them. No money is being made
from this.
Fic Flavour: Sadness, melancholy, and just the tiniest bit of hope.
Summary: Professor McGonagall reflects on her first term in charge of
Hogwarts.
Minerva McGonagall sat down after the end of the first week of term. It was good to know that not everything had gone completely to pot after she had been left in charge. Not that she didn't miss Albus, like everyone who knew him, she missed him terribly, but there was a certain professional satisfaction to be gain from having steered the ship more or less correctly to the first port. Not that she would ever be as good as head teacher as Albus, but she had tried her best.
It hadn't been plain sailing, although luckily, after an initial flurry in the first week, before the return of the students, Severus had managed to restrain himself to threatening to resign only once a day. He did, she agreed, have a point. It had been more than slightly underhanded not to tell him that she was appointing Sirius Black to be the new Transfigurations teacher. Of course he should have been able to guess, given the number of casualties of the war, the low number of people wanting to teach at Hogwarts and Black's proficiency for the subject.
And then having to tell Severus that yes, she had asked Remus Lupin to return as well, which meant, that yes, he had been passed over for the DADA post again. She could see why he had had problems accepting it. Even telling him that he was the only one in the country with the qualities needed to be the Potions teacher at Hogwarts had had no effect.
But he had persevered.
People were doing that a lot now, persevering. Carrying on because there was nothing they could do except carry on.
Because if they stopped, then they would be forced to remember all the things that had happened, and nobody wanted to do that.
No one except Minerva, that is. She needed to remember, or her head would burst.
The pensieve had been Albus's last gift to her. He had given it to her the day he died, saying that she would need it.
She hadn't understood. She still didn't. Had he known what would happen? The man always did seem to have strange powers when it came to sensing future danger.
Getting the school back up and running had begun a week before the start of term. This in itself was delayed by the cleaning up after the recent unpleasantness.
The Ministry, God save their empty heads, had decided that in order to prevent any more murderous teachers getting their hands on the boy who still lived, not to mention all the other Hogwarts pupils, they would all be screened using the mirror of Erised and some truth potion. Then, remembering the Quirrel episode, they decided that all teachers had to be screened, not matter how long they had been at Hogwarts and how much service they had done against Voldemort.
So the screening had begun.
Have you ever tried getting truth potion into someone whose life for many years depended on lying? Well, imagine trying to give the foulest tasting medicine you know to a three year old and you have a pretty good idea of what it was like trying to give Severus Snape a truth potion.
And then of course, he had an allergic reaction to it.
Not that the other two's trial had gone any better, but that all three of them were still alive was a miracle enough. Theirs was to have been a golden year, the future of the wizarding world, upholders of all that was good, and the founders of a second golden age.
Of their entire year they're the only ones not dead, imprisoned or incurable. And it couldn't have happened to three more unlikely men. A werewolf, a spy and an escaped, now pardoned, prisoner.
They were always the three least likely to survive. They were the ones who's cards were supposed to have been marked by the Almighty.
Not James, because James was, well, he was James. Brilliant on the Quidditch pitch, and proficient at every subject. Despite this, he was charming, kind natured; he was a lovely boy to teach.
Or Lucius Malfoy, may he rot, he had all the right connections, even during his school days at Hogwarts. If things worked out the way you expected, then he shouldn't be in Azkaban right now.
But no, Severus, Sirius and Remus were all that was left.
Minerva hoped never to see the wretched mirror again. It showed your heart's desire and for three men like that, there was so much to desire.
Severus had imaginary classes that listened to him, and liked him. Remus had a normal life and walks with a full moon high in the sky. And Sirius, Sirius's was the most heartbreaking of all.
He wanted things back how they were. Him and Remus, James and Peter, young again, arm in arm, smiling, laughing, joking.
But they weren't ever coming back. Neither was Rolanda. A fall from a broom, whilst being hunted down had seen to that. While she might recover from the multiple fractures of the leg and pelvis, she'd never ride a broom again and Minerva didn't think Rolanda would ever recover from that.
They'd signed Oliver Wood up as a temporary replacement, but were trying to convince Gringotts to let them have Bill Weasley. Not that Oliver wasn't up to standard, but they didn't want to completely wreck his chances with Puddlemere United. If he didn't get in to the first team now, he never would.
The students had been affected, of course. Barely any of them had escaped without someone close to them dying. They were coping remarkably well. The littlest ones, the tiny scared first years, clung to Professor Flitwick, he was small like them so, they reasoned, he would understand.
Parvati was being helped through losing Padme by Sybil Trelawney. Sybil being of any help whatsoever came as a complete shock to Minerva, but helped she had. It probably wasn't enough, but how do you console someone who has lost their twin?
Severus was giving extra lessons in everything to Neville, and managing to be civil. Even if he did keep calling the poor lad Peter. Neville didn't understand, which was a good thing. Minerva didn't want to believe that Neville had it in him to become another Wormtail, but could understand why Snape was trying to make certain of it not happening.
Remus looked after Gryffindor, having been made head of house. He was a great success, even if a few parents, and a certain member of the staff, complained.
Sirius had sought out Draco. Minerva had been worried when she'd heard; surely Black wouldn't harm one of the students. Even he wouldn't be that crazy. She needn't have worried, Sirius had put Draco under his protection, he was determined to save him from Azkaban.
How all three men had changed.
She remembered their school days clearly. Minerva had been made head of Gryffindor house in the year that they arrived and her first lesson was with her new Gryffindor first years. Because that was what Black, Lupin, Potter and Pettigrew were, they were her lovely Gryffindor boys, who would finally win back the Cup.
Her next lesson had been with Slytherin first years, the standouts being an imperious white figure and a clump of darkest black next to him.
Everyone in that year showed such remarkable abilities. It was usual to have two or three students who were excellent in one or two subjects; it was rarer to have pupils who excelled across the board. To have a whole year who did was unheard of.
She recalled how everyone rejoiced, saying the after-effects of Grindelwald's war were gone. The only person who didn't was Professor Dumbledore. He had been worried that it would all go to their heads; that something terrible would happen.
How she wished they had listened to him.
But they hadn't, and everything had been destroyed.
This was her chance not to let the mistake be repeated.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------- The end
Minerva McGonagall sat down after the end of the first week of term. It was good to know that not everything had gone completely to pot after she had been left in charge. Not that she didn't miss Albus, like everyone who knew him, she missed him terribly, but there was a certain professional satisfaction to be gain from having steered the ship more or less correctly to the first port. Not that she would ever be as good as head teacher as Albus, but she had tried her best.
It hadn't been plain sailing, although luckily, after an initial flurry in the first week, before the return of the students, Severus had managed to restrain himself to threatening to resign only once a day. He did, she agreed, have a point. It had been more than slightly underhanded not to tell him that she was appointing Sirius Black to be the new Transfigurations teacher. Of course he should have been able to guess, given the number of casualties of the war, the low number of people wanting to teach at Hogwarts and Black's proficiency for the subject.
And then having to tell Severus that yes, she had asked Remus Lupin to return as well, which meant, that yes, he had been passed over for the DADA post again. She could see why he had had problems accepting it. Even telling him that he was the only one in the country with the qualities needed to be the Potions teacher at Hogwarts had had no effect.
But he had persevered.
People were doing that a lot now, persevering. Carrying on because there was nothing they could do except carry on.
Because if they stopped, then they would be forced to remember all the things that had happened, and nobody wanted to do that.
No one except Minerva, that is. She needed to remember, or her head would burst.
The pensieve had been Albus's last gift to her. He had given it to her the day he died, saying that she would need it.
She hadn't understood. She still didn't. Had he known what would happen? The man always did seem to have strange powers when it came to sensing future danger.
Getting the school back up and running had begun a week before the start of term. This in itself was delayed by the cleaning up after the recent unpleasantness.
The Ministry, God save their empty heads, had decided that in order to prevent any more murderous teachers getting their hands on the boy who still lived, not to mention all the other Hogwarts pupils, they would all be screened using the mirror of Erised and some truth potion. Then, remembering the Quirrel episode, they decided that all teachers had to be screened, not matter how long they had been at Hogwarts and how much service they had done against Voldemort.
So the screening had begun.
Have you ever tried getting truth potion into someone whose life for many years depended on lying? Well, imagine trying to give the foulest tasting medicine you know to a three year old and you have a pretty good idea of what it was like trying to give Severus Snape a truth potion.
And then of course, he had an allergic reaction to it.
Not that the other two's trial had gone any better, but that all three of them were still alive was a miracle enough. Theirs was to have been a golden year, the future of the wizarding world, upholders of all that was good, and the founders of a second golden age.
Of their entire year they're the only ones not dead, imprisoned or incurable. And it couldn't have happened to three more unlikely men. A werewolf, a spy and an escaped, now pardoned, prisoner.
They were always the three least likely to survive. They were the ones who's cards were supposed to have been marked by the Almighty.
Not James, because James was, well, he was James. Brilliant on the Quidditch pitch, and proficient at every subject. Despite this, he was charming, kind natured; he was a lovely boy to teach.
Or Lucius Malfoy, may he rot, he had all the right connections, even during his school days at Hogwarts. If things worked out the way you expected, then he shouldn't be in Azkaban right now.
But no, Severus, Sirius and Remus were all that was left.
Minerva hoped never to see the wretched mirror again. It showed your heart's desire and for three men like that, there was so much to desire.
Severus had imaginary classes that listened to him, and liked him. Remus had a normal life and walks with a full moon high in the sky. And Sirius, Sirius's was the most heartbreaking of all.
He wanted things back how they were. Him and Remus, James and Peter, young again, arm in arm, smiling, laughing, joking.
But they weren't ever coming back. Neither was Rolanda. A fall from a broom, whilst being hunted down had seen to that. While she might recover from the multiple fractures of the leg and pelvis, she'd never ride a broom again and Minerva didn't think Rolanda would ever recover from that.
They'd signed Oliver Wood up as a temporary replacement, but were trying to convince Gringotts to let them have Bill Weasley. Not that Oliver wasn't up to standard, but they didn't want to completely wreck his chances with Puddlemere United. If he didn't get in to the first team now, he never would.
The students had been affected, of course. Barely any of them had escaped without someone close to them dying. They were coping remarkably well. The littlest ones, the tiny scared first years, clung to Professor Flitwick, he was small like them so, they reasoned, he would understand.
Parvati was being helped through losing Padme by Sybil Trelawney. Sybil being of any help whatsoever came as a complete shock to Minerva, but helped she had. It probably wasn't enough, but how do you console someone who has lost their twin?
Severus was giving extra lessons in everything to Neville, and managing to be civil. Even if he did keep calling the poor lad Peter. Neville didn't understand, which was a good thing. Minerva didn't want to believe that Neville had it in him to become another Wormtail, but could understand why Snape was trying to make certain of it not happening.
Remus looked after Gryffindor, having been made head of house. He was a great success, even if a few parents, and a certain member of the staff, complained.
Sirius had sought out Draco. Minerva had been worried when she'd heard; surely Black wouldn't harm one of the students. Even he wouldn't be that crazy. She needn't have worried, Sirius had put Draco under his protection, he was determined to save him from Azkaban.
How all three men had changed.
She remembered their school days clearly. Minerva had been made head of Gryffindor house in the year that they arrived and her first lesson was with her new Gryffindor first years. Because that was what Black, Lupin, Potter and Pettigrew were, they were her lovely Gryffindor boys, who would finally win back the Cup.
Her next lesson had been with Slytherin first years, the standouts being an imperious white figure and a clump of darkest black next to him.
Everyone in that year showed such remarkable abilities. It was usual to have two or three students who were excellent in one or two subjects; it was rarer to have pupils who excelled across the board. To have a whole year who did was unheard of.
She recalled how everyone rejoiced, saying the after-effects of Grindelwald's war were gone. The only person who didn't was Professor Dumbledore. He had been worried that it would all go to their heads; that something terrible would happen.
How she wished they had listened to him.
But they hadn't, and everything had been destroyed.
This was her chance not to let the mistake be repeated.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------- The end