Her stomach churned with grief and absolute hysteria was threatening to worm its way past the lump in her throat. And yet, Minerva McGonagall stood silently by Colin Creevy's graveside. She listened to the old minister as he pontificated on the uncertainty of life and the need for salvation. Her breath hitched as the casket was lowered to the ground. But she did not weep.
Her weeping has come in storms and spurts all week as news of the deaths had poured in. It would come again as soon as she was alone - there was no doubt about that. Right now though, all she felt was a need for stillness. She could do nothing to stop the dirt from filling the grave and she could do nothing about the horrified devastation on Colin's parents' faces. All she could do was stand still in the midst of emotional chaos and wreckage. All she could do was pretend she didn't want to be screaming at the unfairness of it all. So much potential, so much promise, so much, so bloody much all turned to ash and waste.
When the last of the mourners left the parents to their grief, Minerva turned back as well. She glanced briefly at the Creevys but she was genuinely frightened to open her lips lest the hysteria bubble forth. And so she walked away, knowing that she was as powerless as they felt.
And yet.
And yet, there was something. One small thing.
Later that month, when the new course approvals came before the Board of Governors, tucked among the details for new preventative magic, healing magic, and defense magic courses was one little addition. A wizarding photography course.
A/N: This was a labor of emotion. I lost one of my students today.
