Broken

A Character Study of Minerva McGonagall

Most people thought that Minerva McGonagall hated Divination and thought that it was hogwash.

They were only half right.

Minerva hated Divination with a passion, that much was true, but she knew only too well how real it was. You see, Minerva McGonagall was a seer. She could not control it and did not try to make it happen, but she could occasionally See, or more accurately, feel what was in a person's future.

As a young teen she had met Tom Riddle, and while the whole school adored him, she avoided him because he felt dark and slimy. In the future of her favorite professor, Professor Dumbledore, she felt only pain and sadness of a kind Minerva had never felt before. By the early 1970's, she had not felt anything new in quite some time, which was why it was a shock when, the first week of September 1971, her class of first year Gryffindors walked into their first Transfiguration class and she felt pain. And oh what pain it was! She felt broken souls and broken spirits. She Saw their pain and brokenness and was surprised to look up to find four young boys, whole and happy, joking and playfully shoving each other.

As the years went on, she watched them grow and learn, watched them prank and play and be cheerful and whole. But she could never forget the darkness and pain she had Seen. And when the darkness started rising and at the heart of it a man with a name the anagram of Tom Marvolo Riddle, she could hardly find it in herself to be surprised. She watched her boys grow and take charge, saw them change from carefree boys to young men willing to die for those they loved. She saw the pain and darkness that they faced daily and wept for them.

And yet, she knew this was not all. She knew that while they had faced more than anyone ever should, that this was not even half the pain and brokenness she had felt and knew that their trials were far from over.

And then everything jolted to a painful stop. Two were dead at the hand of another and the remaining one disappeared as soon as his friends were in the ground. It stopped but it was not over, and for a decade it stayed that way.

She tried to find joy in her students and to some degree it worked. She guided new students and helped them reach their potential. She cared for them from a distance but closed herself off to love. Then two redheads made everything fall apart. Their pranks reminded her too much of her boys and she hated and loved them at the same time. She hated them for bringing back her pain and loved them because how could she not. They were their own people and were not afraid to show it. They loved fiercely and laughed freely. Like she always had, she pushed through.

In 1991, two decades after she had first felt the pain of her boys, another boy walked into her school and into her heart. She had had hope for this one, hope that the pain that had so plagued those who came before him would not touch him, that he would be left whole. What she saw was worse. Not only did he carry just as much pain in his future, he was already broken. He did not have the youthful carelessness of her boys or their innocence. And yet he still loved fiercely. Even though she told herself she would not love again, she could not help it. Another boy full of pain had invaded her heart.

Once more the years passed and once more a boy grew and matured. Once again he loved fiercely and found friends he would die for. And then everything started again. The lost one returned, the traitor escaped and one of the dead came back to life.

And yet the years continued to pass. A child murdered and Tom risen again. A summer spent again with two of her broken boys. And then, with the darkness rising once more, her youngest boy takes charge like those who came before. He fights in secret and brings others up, teaches them to be all they can be. He heals others and maybe, just maybe, he himself will heal. But no, she should stop deceiving herself, for once again one of her boys dies and the others shatter once more.

Two more years and Albus is gone and her boys have all but one disappeared and the one remaining withdrawn so far into himself that he might never come back. She tries her best to shield the students, to keep them from the darkness threatening to consume them, and barely eats or sleeps anymore.

She hears news of the death of the one who actually betrayed and even with all he has done, he is one of her boys and she weeps for him even as she did the first time when she thought him the betrayed. The next night she sees her two remaining boys again. They fight so valiantly and with so much love and she is so proud.

Then one dies and yet she does not have time to weep. She continues to fight for the last of her boys and hopes that all is not lost. When she sees him, the last, so small in Hagrid's arms, she can no longer hold it in. She lets out a loud and ugly cry of pain deep and lasting and nearly gives up.

But then everything goes crazy again and once more there is hope so she keeps fighting. She keeps going for her boys alive and dead.

After that night the four are all gone, but the last is still there. He finds her and puts his godson in her arms and she holds both of them while all three cry for all that they lost.

Another decade and a half and she looks around once more. The first generation broke and died and the second was broken from childhood, but the third will not break. They are whole and they are happy, and the second will do all that is in their power to keep them that way.

For the first time in decades Minerva McGonagall smiles.

So I know I should probably work on all of the other things I have in progress right now, but this popped into my head this afternoon and wouldn't leave me alone. Also, believe it or not, this started out as a very fluffy and happy piece, but, like everything I think of, it ended up with quite a bit of pain for all of the characters. As always, disclaimer on my profile and I'd love to know what you think. Have a good day everyone!

~RavenLilyRose