Disclaimer: All the usual "yakety-yak" – I don't own any of these characters (except the ones I made up). Everything else (the Potter-verse, Hogwarts, etc.) belong the greatly talented J.K. Rowling. This is simply my way of expressing some of my ideas about the past of Hogwarts – and a chance to "play with her toys" as it were. ^.^
Rated: PG-13 for right now (the usual – swearing, adult situations, some occasional violence, dark themes), but I may up the ante to R – haven't made my mind up yet, though. Just so you know.
Description: Have you ever wondered why McGonagall wears green robes. Or why it would seem that she never got married and had children of her own? Have you ever wondered who Grindelwald was and what he had to do with Dumbledore? Have you just simply wondered what Hogwarts was like in the days pre-dating even the Marauders? Well…then this is the story for you! McGonagall finally opens up and tells a devastated Order what happened in the early days of the Order – why it was founded and how it began.
Chapter Description: In which McGonagall begins to share the story of her youth to the grieving Order. Starts off post-book 7 and quickly changes to pre-book 1, in the Year of Our Lord, 1938… A young McGonagall (or "Mini") is introduced, along with her "greatest friend," as they both prepare to graduate from Hogwarts and embark on a soon-to-be war-torn Europe.
Author Notes: Nuthin' much…just please keep an open mind as you read. Please enjoy and REVIEW!! I can't possibly know what you do or don't like about this story, unless you tell me. (And plus, it's good for my morale. ^^)
"Give to all nations unity, peace, and concord."
The Book of Common Prayer, p. 56
"Peace and freedom never comes at a price any of us are quite willing to face," a tall, thin wizard folded his hands inside of the sleeves of his robe and stared darkly at the fire crackling cheerfully in the hearth in front of him.
The fire's bright warmth did nothing to diffuse the dank chill that crept into the ancient stone kitchen. Its cheerful dancing didn't lighten the room's somber mood; it's flickering flashes of gold, orange, and red failed to bring color, its beauty lost on the mournful group gathered around a scarred wooden table.
"But it is a price we all understand – and that some are…are even…" an older witch dabbed at the corner of her eye with a handkerchief. "Are even willing to pay."
"But why?" a young woman stood to her feet, turning over her stool, her face streaked with tears. "Why did Harry and Professor Dumbledore have to die?"
"Because…" one of her companions fumbled for the right words – any words – to say. "That's what…Fate chose, Hermoine."
"It's not fair! It's simply not fair, Remus!" Hermoine wailed, sinking down into a nearby stool, borrowing her face into her arms.
"Life never is," Snape whispered softly, glancing almost compassionately at the young witch before turning back to contemplate the fire.
"It was a sacrifice that had to be made, Hermoine," Professor McGonagall leaned across the table and placed her wrinkled hand on the girl's arm.
"Better those sacrifices are made, than He Who Must Not Be Named still live," Snape added pragmatically, talking to the fireplace. "The sacrifices of a few are better than the lives of hundreds more – wizard and muggle."
Hermoine only cried harder in response; Lupin reached over and patted her awkwardly on the back, struggling to keep his own tears at bay.
"Oh, hush, Severus," Mrs. Weasley finally spoke up from her quiet seat at the end of the table, glancing up at her fellow Order member. "There's no need to upset the poor child more than she already is."
"What would you wish I do, Molly?" Snape turned slightly and scowled at the still-grieving widow, his dark eyes haunted.
Mrs. Weasley tear-streaked face seemed to strike a cord of humanity deep within the usually acidic Potions professor and he turned away as if in apology.
"I simply don't know what else to say," he whispered softly, as if to himself.
"You speak the truth, though, Severus," McGonagall sighed heavily. "As hard as it is to hear it."
The stoic Gryffindor paused for several minutes, in order to regain her composure. Tears still streamed quietly down her voice, but she at least managed to keep a steady voice.
"I, too, once saw the ones I loved taken from me – all for the sake of keeping a great evil from wiping out humanity," she brushed away her tears, but more simply rolled down her cheeks in the tracks the others had left behind. "A greater evil than even He Who Must Not Be Named, I've often thought."
Her words were spoken softly, but the whole room heard. Lupin, Snape, Mrs. Weasley, and Ron – who had yet to say anything – all broke away from their own personal reveries to stare at McGonagall in amazement. Even Hermoine stilled her soft whimpers to lift her face and peer teary-eyed at her beloved Head of House in puzzlement.
"How could there possibly be an evil greater than Voldemort?" Snape demanded sharply. "His power is unrivaled in magical history."
"His powers, perhaps," McGonagall seemed completely unperturbed by her colleague's disbelief. "But He Who Must Not Be Named never manipulated the Muggle world, using them against us – and themselves. That's what made Grindelwald greater than any wizard who came before or after him."
"Gindelwald…? You mean Grindelwald the Gruesome?" Lupin frowned slightly, forgetting his sorrows momentarily and sensing the beginning of a story.
"Yes," McGonagall nodded. "The one who's greatest pupil was He Who Must Not Be Named."
"Just say his damned name – Voldemort's dead," Snape hissed sourly. "What harm can a name do? Stop being so trite, Minerva."
McGonagall shot Snape an enigmatic look, before choosing to ignore him and continue with her tale.
"The three people I held dearest in my life were killed in order to bring an end to Grindelwald's reign of terror throughout Europe," McGonagall paused yet again to choke back a sob. "My father, my greatest friend, and the only lover I've ever had."
Hermoine stared at McGonagall, speechless. As was everyone else in the room. Not an eye turned from her face, except Snape, who glanced uneasily at the fire one last time.
"What happened, Minerva?" Remus demanded quietly.
"You don't really have to tell us this story," Mrs. Weasley added hastily as McGonagall pressed her handerchief to her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut in a deep show of sorrow.
"No…no," the elderly professor opened her eyes and shook her head vehemently. "It's a story that must be told. I've kept it to myself all my life," she glanced up at Snape as she said that. "Waiting for the right time to tell it."
She glanced around at the saddened faces gathered at the table next to her.
Molly lost a husband, Ron a father and a best friend. Hermoine lost the one I do believe she would have married in future years – or at the very least, one who would have been her greatest friend. We've all lost a great friend and protector, McGonagall squeezed her eyes shut at the thought of never again seeing Dumbledore humming absently down the beloved halls of his Hogwarts.
She opened her eyes suddenly, feeling a cold, but comforting hand land on her shoulder. McGonagall looked up into Snape's dark eyes; to her great surprise, she saw them changed from their usual cold, guarded, haunted depths. For the space of a few seconds, as she sat transfixed, gazing up at him, the Potions master's eyes were kind, open, and strangely bright, as if with unshed tears.
Snape seemed to feel the incredulous stares of the rest of the Order members and his eyes closed the window to his soul as he patted old House adversary one more time before withdrawing his hand and sticking it back in the sleeves of his robe.
"Now is the time to tell my tale," McGonagall broke the silence softly, her voice quivering with emotion. "It's time for us to remember great deeds in memory of our beloved Headmaster – to honor the life he lived," tears spilled, unchecked, down her cheeks. "It will do us – me – well to remember a time when similar sacrifices had to be made to save our world.
"Severus, do hand me a cup of tea," McGonagall turned to the one pillar of seeming strength in the room.
Snape brusquely conjured up a very large mug of piping hot tea and handed it to the Transfiguration professor, his face guarded and carefully expressionless.
You always act so strong, my friend, McGonagall thought to herself as she turned back to those gathered around the table. Always hiding your emotions away until later – always being the one dry eye in the room so others can feel as if they have something to turn to, however caustic you may be.
"This is to our loved ones, who fought for peace," McGonagall's voice shook as much as the mug she held aloft in tribute of those they mourned.
The others murmured soft replies – not an eye was dry. With a sniff, McGonagall took a steadying sip of her tea, and then set it down on the table, cradling the mug between her hands.
"This story starts at my graduation in 1938 – a class like any other, full of hopes, dreams, and youth. We never dreamed that dark days would come and what very dark days they would be. We only cared that we were graduating and that Headmistress O'Meallain's Parting Speech was too long and too full of dark warnings that we didn't understand…"
~ ~ ~
June, 1938
A young, handsome Slytherin glanced over his shoulder and saw a red-robed figure walking swiftly past his group of friends, her long, curly black hair streaming out behind her in the soft July wind. With a mumbled word or two, he excused himself from his fellow Slytherins and trotted quickly after the young woman.
"'Oi! Minerva!" he called loudly, ignoring the looks of disgust his fellow House members shot him, or the discreet snickers that passed through a group of female Slytherins as they watched him pursue a member of a rival House.
"Finn?" she stopped in mid-stride and turned toward the Slytherin with a surprised expression.
"Don't be so damn shocked, Mini," Finn leaned his head toward Minerva and laughed conspiratorially. "Ya' know I don't give a bloody damn in hell what those pure-blooded idiots think," he glanced over his shoulder at the scandalized Slytherins, his handsome face brightened in a smile.
"I often wonder what the Sorting Hat was thinking when it sorted you into Slytherin," Minerva sighed tragically. "You should have been a Gryffindor, Finn."
"Naw," Finn waved his hand dismissively, his clear blue eyes shining mischievously. "What woulda' been the fun in that? Sure, Dad an' Mum were a little shocked to learn that I was Sorted into Slytherin, but I'm glad I was. I've come out a better, stronger wizard 'cause of it," he placed his hand on Minerva's shoulder. "I know what I believe, Minerva, an' I know how to defend my beliefs. Livin' in the Snake's Den will teach ya' that.
"But, now," he waved his hand impatiently. "We've been through this all before in the last seven years. This isn't what I wanted to talk to ya' 'bout."
"Then what for?" Minerva cocked a cynical eyebrow. "We're about to be called into the castle for the Parting Ceremony and Feast."
"I just wanted to tell ya'…" Finn took a deep breath and impulsively grabbed Minerva's hands in his. "That I treasure our friendship an' I hope that you won't forget your old Slytherin friend as you move out into the great wizarding world. I'm not askin' for much – just the occasional owl. I think we have a unique friendship, Minerva, that could change many ancient wrongs between our two Houses."
"Don't worry, Finn," Minerva said softly, freeing one of her hands and placing it comfortingly on top of her friend's fingers. "I'll never forget you, or our friendship."
"Always friends, then?" Finn moved in closer, resting his forehead against Minerva's with a slight, hopeful smile.
"Always," Minerva whispered fervently, impulsively throwing her arms around Finn and hugging him tightly. "You're like a brother to me, Finn. I'm never saying 'goodbye'."
Overcome with a surprising show of emotion, Finn kissed her affectionately on the cheek, before hugging her back and then stepping back.
"See ya' in the Great Hall," he punched her playfully on the arm, his eyes strangely bright and tender.
"Why don't we go together?" Minerva offered him her arm with a soft smile. "For old time's sake?"
"It would be an honor, my courageous little lioness," Finn bowed gallantly and crooked his arm with hers. "We should walk together – this one, last time."
"At Hogwarts," Minerva added quickly.
"Here at Hogwarts," Finn nodded, but there was look on his face that disquieted Minerva in a way she couldn't quite explain.
It was a look that told her soul that this would indeed be the last time she walked arm-in-arm with her childhood friend. There had been whisperings among the seventh years and the Hogwarts faculty about dark things afoot in Europe – things that threatened their very way of life. The look on Finn's face seemed to herald those dark times; Minerva blinked back involuntary tears that she couldn't quite explain and tightened her grip on Finn's arm.
I will never say 'goodbye' to you, Finn. You're a true heir of all that was good and great in your House's founder – like a true Slytherin, you are noble and sagacious.
"We'll always be together," Minerva said softly as they walked toward the castle's massive front doors, casually ignoring the shocked expressions of their fellow House members. "We'll be sharing elevenses together someday, talking about our grandchildren and laughing about Hogwarts in the 'old days.'"
Her unexplainable fears dissipated like a dark fog in the light of Finn's bright smile. And she smiled back – there was nothing she wouldn't do, just to see her friend smile.
~ ~ ~
"What a magnificent pair," Headmistress O'Meallain sighed, a slight smile dancing along the corners of her mouth, as she watched a green-robed and red-robed student walking arm-and-arm up the gravel path to the castle doors. "It's hard to believe that they could be such great friends, Albus."
"The Sorting Hat says that in the old days, there were no greater friends than Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor," Albus Dumbledore, Transfiguration Professor and head of Minerva's House, placed his hand on the shoulder of his own Slytherin friend.
"They're a rebuke to us, Albus," O'Meallain sighed heavily. "We keep our friendship hidden behind polite conversation and cool indifference. Miss McGonagall and Mr. Foxfire are so…open…with their feelings."
"The magnificence of youth, Jenna," Dumbledore chuckled softly. "They don't give a damn what the world thinks about their friendship."
"And we get too cautious and foolish in our old age," O'Meallain shook her head slowly. "Our friendship will never be known outside of these stone walls," she let the curtain fall over the window and turned toward her desk. "But those two…those two will be a shining example of what power exists in the unity of differences. We can only pray that the wizarding world learns from the wisdom of our young people."
"You speak irony, Jenna, dear," Dumbledore smiled kindly at her as he sat down in a nearby chair, steepling his fingers together as he rested his elbows on the arm rests.
"I know," O'Meallain laughed shortly. "But these are ironic times we live in, Albus. Our children set the example for their parents and have the wisdom of peers half their years. And dark wizards make pacts with Muggles while those of good shun the other world."
"You fear for our future?" Dumbledore ran a hand through his thick mane of auburn hair.
"I fear for the future of our children," O'Meallain waved her hand expansively around the office. "I fear for Hogwarts. The students that graduate from Slytherin leave with darker hearts each year," she sat down heavily behind her desk, leaning her head wearily in her hands. "I fear many things, Albus."
"And what of Grindelwald?" Dumbledore pressed gently, leaning forward in his chair and placing his hand comfortingly on the Headmistress' arm.
"I fear him most of all."
~ ~ ~
"...You've all come a long way. You came to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as children. You leave as grown witches and wizards. I commend each and every one of you for a job a well done. A toast, then," Headmistress O'Meallain picked up her glass and raised it high, toward the enchanted ceiling of Hogwart's Great Hall. "To your past success and bright futures."
The Great Hall was filled with scattered cheers and clapping as thirty-two students, dressed in the finest robes of their House colors, stood to their feet. Minerva grasped her own glass and raised it in imitation of the Headmistress, glancing toward the Slytherin table.
Her brown eyes met Finn's blue ones and they both smiled fondly at each other. Minerva discreetly inclined her head in Finn's direction before taking a sip of her plum wine. With a mischievous twinkle, Finn winked at her over the rim of his cup and then did a most astonishing thing. He raised his crystal goblet in the air a second time, smiling broadly at Minerva as everyone around them – including the teachers – began to sit down.
"A toast to Gryffindor!" he said grandly, his young, husky voice reverberating around the stone room.
"And to Slytherin as well," Minerva shocked even herself by replying to Finn's outrageous toast – in front of all four Houses, the Headmistress, and every Hogwarts professor, no less.
Maintaining eye contact, the two friends sipped yet again from their goblets. Minerva glanced toward O'Meallain and blushed, feeling foolish underneath the Headmistress' strange, indescribable gaze. But if she had continued looking stubbornly toward the teachers' table, as Finn did, she would have seen something quite extraordinary. O'Meallain glanced toward Professor Dumbledore, who nodded his head slowly approvingly, smiling up at the Headmistress. And then O'Meallain did something quite unlike her – a glimpse behind her usually stern façade that no one saw except Finn.
She smiled warmly at Dumbledore, lifting her glass toward him in a silent salute.
Nice to know Mini and I aren't the only ones, Finn grinned as he finally sat down, calmly ignoring the tangible indignation of the green-robed students around him. But who'da' thunk! The 'Old Snake' herself an' cheery ole' Professor Dumbledore!
"Before we begin the Parting Feast," O'Meallain continued smoothly, as if nothing unusual had just happened. "Your four respective Heads of House would like to present a little something to you all that you may remember from the beginning of this term."
The students gathered quickly forgot what had happened between Finn and Minerva and all looked obediently – if not expectantly – up toward the front of the room. Gathering her emerald robes around her, O'Meallain sat down and Dumbledore stood up along with three others.
"In times of old when I was new / and Hogwarts barely started / the founders of our noble school / thought never to be parted: / united by a common goal, / they had the selfsame yearning, / to make the world's best magic school / and pass along their learning," Dumbledore recited with appropriate decorum, his red robes gleaming cheerfully in the flickering light of the candles bobbing along the Hall's ceiling.
"'Together we will build and teach!' / the four good friends decided / and never did they dream that they / might someday be divided," Professor Hesper Starkey, resident Potions Master, spoke slowly and clearly, enunciating each word with a soft, almost sly, Irish drawl. "For where were there such friends anywhere / as Slytherin and Gryffindor?"
Finn and Minerva exchanged looks yet again, grinning broadly.
"Unless it was the second pair / of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?" Professor Cassandra Vablatsky looked calmly toward her own Ravenclaw students as she talked, her gentle voice echoing sweetly.
"So how could it have gone so wrong? / How could such friendship fail?" Professor Tilly Toke, instructor in the Care of Magical Creatures, recited with her usual bright, infectious enthusiasm. "Why, I was there and so can tell the whole sad, sorry tale."
"Said Slytherin, 'We'll teach just those / whose ancestry is purest,'" Starkey's eyes roved with evident pride over his smirking group of Slytherins.
"Said Ravenclaw, 'We'll teach those whose / intelligence is surest,'" Vablatsky's face shown with a bright, fierce joy.
"Said Gryffindor, 'We'll teach all those / with brave deeds to their name,'" Dumbledore seemed to look straight at Minerva.
"Said Hufflepuff, 'I'll teach the lot, / and treat them all the same,'" Toke, ever-just and well-liked by all the young graduates, beamed down on them, regardless of what color robes they wore.
"So Hogwarts worked in harmony / for several happy years, / but then discord crept among us / feeding on our faults and fears," Vablatsky frowned slightly – a sight not one of her students had ever seen cross the gentle, placid face of their Divination professor.
"The Houses that, like pillars four, / had once held up our school, / now turned upon each other and, / divided, sought to rule," even Toke seemed quietly disturbed, her smiling gray eyes clouded and solemn.
"And for a while it seemed the school / must meet with early end, / what with dueling and with fighting / and the clash of friend on friend," Starkey's sharp, shrewd green eyes glanced from Finn to Minerva, from Slytherin to Gryffindor.
"And at last there came a morning / when old Slytherin departed / and though the fighting then died out / he left us quite downhearted," Dumbledore's words were punctuated with a deep sigh.
Glancing at each other from different ends of the table, the four House heads spoke finally in one voice. Their dark and solemn message seemed to shake Hogwarts to its very foundations, leaving more than one student feeling distinctly unsettled.
"And never since the founders four / were whittled down to three / have the Houses been united / as they once were meant to be."
The four professors' voices died away, leaving the Great Hall wrapped in a great, startled hush. The students stared up at their teachers, completely baffled and stunned. With a slight bow, each Head of House sat down, their own faces reflecting the solemnity that had settled down across the students and other teachers.
"Taken from the song the Sorting Hat chose to share with us at the beginning of this year's term," O'Meallain explained softly, rising to her feet once again amid the rustle of her expensive satin robes.
She stood there for several minutes, her gaze sweeping through the throng of excited, eager, youthful adults, flush with their achievement as the new fledgling witches and wizards of their magical communities. As a Slytherin, O'Meallain never showed her true emotions, but her heart felt as if it would burst with mingled pride and fear for each young life that was so very precious to her. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she launched into her carefully planned Parting Speech.
"We live in dark times, my young colleagues," she spread her hands open wide, as if imploring the students to give her their undivided attention. "In the past, we of the magical world have kept a careful distance from ordinary humans – dismissing them as nothing more than 'silly Muggles.' But now, a powerful Dark Wizard makes allegiances with them in Germany, winning the favor and support of witches, wizards, and Muggles!
"I'm afraid, my dear students, that I am releasing you into a world full of danger, with an uncertain future," everyone present, except Dumbledore – who had helped his friend write her speech – seemed shocked at the Headmistress' uncharacteristic candor and concern.
"I'm afraid a great evil is rising that must be resisted and destroyed. But, as the Sorting Hat warned us this year, that cannot be done without us all putting aside our differences and uniting as one," O'Meallain folded her hands inside of her wide robe sleeves, her eyes straying toward Finn, who grinned cheekily up at her. "As Mr. Foxfire and Miss McGonagall have demonstrated for us for the past seven years, there is strength to be found in uniting our differences. Lasting friendships can indeed be forged among rival families, or, in this case," she glanced at Minerva. "Rival Houses.
"For, indeed," a tear slid down the Headmistress' face, shocking all who watched. "There has never been a great friendship than Slytherin and Gryffindor – except, perhaps, for Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw…"