Let Me Tell You How I Died

Summary: Mcgonagall's instincts were honed after two wars, and she knew that something was coming. Ever since the uprisings in the Middle East, back in '12, something was being planned.

But it's not Mcgonagall's war to fight. It's Harry Potter's generation who will take the mentor roles. But it is up to their children to win it.

Rating: M (for violence and language)

Warnings: Major slash pairings, major OC alert, Next-Gen.

Let me tell you how I died.

Let me tell you why I live.

Let me tell you exactly why

This is the story I chose to give.

Prologue: Enlisted

"There's something brewing. Something is most definitely coming, and dahl, you gotta be prepared."
"You quote a movie one more time, and I will personally pan fry your innards and serve them for dinner."
"Sounds good."
"Stop bickering. We know what we've got to do, so we're gonna fucking do it, so help me God!"
"Okay, so Catwoman wants us to help her. How?"
"We go to school, dahl."

The bloke with dreads whacked his head against the table. His long haired friend soothed him, making sure that he was alright.

The obvious leader, a girl with a sparkly top and nails with crystals embedded in them raked her hand through her nest of perky, golden curls.

The last person at the meeting- a girl more holey than a priest's donut, with piercings all over her face- didn't lift her head from the game she was playing on her phone.

An odd, dysfunctional, and incredibly immature lot they were, but the quiet observer knew they were instrumental in his plan- a plan that they would help with immensely.

The headmistress clicked her nails against her desk.

A blank parchment lay in front of her, a new pot of ink and a quill were ready to be used, but no words had the correct meaning that she seeked to put across.

She had to reply soon, though. Not much else could be told just by reading the papers, muggle and magical alike- but ever since Syria's turnabout revolution in 2012, no-one could anticipate what was going to happen next.

She coukd feel something coming- feel it coming through the marrow of her bones. Her instincts were honed, sitting through two wars.

She dipped her quill in the ink, and let her words flow onto the paper.

She signed the note with a flourish, before sealing it quickly and sending the letter off.

Finally, she knew, the world was changing.

And so, the old headmistress left her office to meet with the teachers for the coming school year.

As the door closed, a golden plaque on the door glistened. It read 'Professor Minerva Mcgonagall, Headmistress'.

Dear Minister Weasley,

I appreciate your concern for the students, however, I have to decline your offer of a guard of Aurors. I do not wish to alarm the students, however, this does not mean I wish to bring them harm. This is why I have chosen a subtler form of guard.

As for you concerns about 'something brewing' I do sense your concern, however, as the threat has not become tangibleas of yet, there is no reason to act until it has revealed itself in some way or other, save general preparing, of which we should always do.

Let me give you some advice, for both you and your ministry. It had been years since He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named was killed by Mr. Potter, and that is more than enough time for a new Dark Lord to rise. I may not have the influence that Albus had, however, I do have my sources, and I must say, I can feel suspense in the air.

Something is coming, Minister Weasley, and I hope you and you Ministry are prepared, as it will turn you foundations to rubble and dust. That I am sure of.

Yours,
Minerva Mcgonagall.

The Minister read the letter through for the umpteenth time. He sighed, and leant back in his chair, before calling his secretary in.

"Gather all the avaliable Unspeakables. There is something I need to arrange."

Please R&R!