As Harry, Ron and Hermione entered the Great Hall again, most of the injured had been healed already. Everyone seemed to have gathered there, mourning over fallen and finding comfort in the other survivors either by talking or remaining in silence while holding onto each other tightly. Harry swallowed. This was not something he could deal with very well. He felt like intruding even though the fact that he too had lost loves ones: Fred, Remus, Tonks… In the distance he could see the headmistress-to-be conversing with Professor Flitwick. The fight between her and Snape in this very same Hall came to mind again, and Harry realized that while he and Ron and Hermione now knew all about Snape's true allegiance, others didn't. Minerva McGonagall had fought him with all she had had to defend her cub while Snape had been on the very same side as hers all the time. She needed to know.
"I'll be right there with you," Harry said as Ron and Hermione joined the Weasleys, and he waited with patience until Professor Flitwick nodded one final time before walking over to a bunch of Ravenclaws gathered up on the rubble of what had once been a shiny House table. Minerva redirected her gaze, letting it fall upon him. Two shades of green connected as he lightly smiled and walked over to where she stood.
She smiled – a sight Harry wasn't really used to.
"I owe you," he said. Harry had asked for time, and his former Head of House had done all she could to give it to him without questions.
"We teachers are rather good at magic, you know," she said.
"I remember," Harry said and smiled as well. He then became serious once again. "Professor, there are a few things that you have to know with all that's gone on."
"Oh, just a few?" she questioned, eyebrows quirking.
"Severus Snape's… The snake…" he began. "His body's still in the Shrieking Shack."
Minerva McGonagall nodded. "We'll get it," she said, and Harry couldn't tell how she felt about the matter. A part of him momentarily doubted, considering their battle earlier, if she wouldn't have rather let him decompose there alone. He assumed that there must be a lot of conflicting emotions, and therefore it was truly essential she knew about it all as well.
"I was with him when it… happened," Harry continued, and still Minerva McGonagall's pale face did not give away any emotion, remaining enigmatic. "He's left me a vial of memories." At that, mild shock seemed to show in Minerva's eyes. "He never was Voldemort's, no matter how hard he has tried to make everyone believe it. He fell in love with my mother since they were both nine, and he never stopped loving her."
Minerva's hand rose to cover her open mouth. "Lily?"
Harry nodded. "He begged Voldemort to spare her in exchange for the lives of her husband and her son, but he knew that Voldemort could turn back at his word just like that, so he approached Dumbledore, begging him as well to please keep my mother safe with my father and me if necessary. Dumbledore agreed, but insisted that he continued as a spy among the Death Eaters. As you well know, my mom and dad confided in Peter Pettigrew, who would betray them… and they got killed nonetheless. When Voldemort killed my father and her, Dumbledore persuaded him to help in keeping me safe, telling him that was the best that he could do for my mother because that that was what she would have wanted. That's what he did, and that's the very reason why Dumbledore trusted him." Harry said. "He agreed while he kept loving her all his life, and until the end his Patronus was a doe, the same…"
"…as your mother's."
"…as my mother's."
Harry nodded and momentarily wondered how Professor McGonagall could know. Being a cat when desired most likely had other advantages than being smaller in size sometimes, he mused. Cats were easier hidden and less likely to be caught watching something they shouldn't.
"He… killed him," Minerva said, head shaking in non-understanding.
He watched as she sank down on the table beside them both, hand falling in her lap. Harry followed, momentarily doubting before reaching over and taking her hand. She seemed so shocked at the news that she barely noticed. "Dumbledore would have died within the year either way. He got himself injured with Marvolo Gaunt's ring – Voldemort's second Horcrux. There was a curse in it," Harry continued before she had the chance to ask. "Snape managed to stern the curse, confining it to Dumbledore's hand. In the mean time, Voldemort had asked Draco Malfoy to kill Dumbledore, who knew…" Harry sighed, kindly rubbing the back of McGonagall's hand. "Snape only killed Dumbledore on his command."
At this point, tears began welling up in Minerva McGonagall's eyes, and Harry easily conjured a handkerchief, handing it over to her. She accepted it with one hand, beginning to dab her eyes. "Albus… a-asked him to…?"
Harry nodded.
"W–Why didn't he tell… me?"
"I don't know…" Harry admitted, lightly squeezing her hand and letting her head drop on his shoulder. Harry didn't doubt that even though she looked mostly fine and as having only minor injuries, the injuries were most likely more serious than she would dare to admit, and she would most likely have pushed the Matron aside at once when she had tried to heal her injuries as well, saying that she was perfectly fine. While the Head of Gryffindor House was unpredictable most of the time, Harry knew that his thoughts must have been quite right on that. She, however, wasn't that young anymore, and she must be truly exhausted after such intense fight. He quietly looked her over as her eyes slowly fell shut. The gash upon her cheek appeared quite deep. As he quietly let his gaze wander about the Hall, his eyes fell upon the Matron. Green connected with gray, and Harry slowly nodded. Whether she liked it or not, Minerva could use a bit of healing as well, even though he knew that the most of the healing would have to happen in her heart.