This piece is my entry for 'The Opening Line Competition' by Amerikanka on the HPFC forum. My character was Minerva McGonagall and my prompt was home.
I know this isn't the best I can write, but I only remembered that the deadline was today so I wrote this in about an hour. That said, I don't think it's my worst work either. It is unbeta'd so all spelling and grammatical errors are my own.
Memoir of a Shattered Heart
She didn't recognise the person staring back at her. Eyes that once reflected hope and happiness stared sadly back, her hair had greyed over the years and in place of the once radiant smile she wore a brave grimace. The water rippled in the breeze and her reflection disappeared, losing itself in the waves that lapped against the rocks.
A tear leaked from a watery green eye and rolled down Minerva McGonagall's wrinkled cheek. For nearly sixty years, Hogwarts had been the best home she'd ever known – not unlike other students she'd taught over the years. She'd been there from the age of 11 and now at 70 she was still there. Time had moved her on but in her heart she was still the same as she was back then. Just older, wiser and now broken as well.
When she first came to Hogwarts, Minerva was a shy retiring first year with an exceptional knowledge of a variety of subjects. She came from a line of Ravenclaw's including her mother, and was quite expected to follow in her family's footsteps. To her surprise she found herself sorted into Gryffindor; and over the years she proved herself to be worthy of that decision. She always wore the red and gold with pride, eventually becoming Gryffindor's head of house.
She excelled at every subject she turned her hand to, at the same time falling into favour with all of her professors – she took as many classes as her schedule would allow. Countless days were spent holed up in the library; she revelled in the scent of age old parchment and leather bound books. Quiddich was a passion instilled in her during her youth; and she held her spot on the Gryffindor team for six of her seven years as a pupil.
It came as no surprise to anyone when she passed first her O.W.L.S and then her N.E.W.T.S with 'O's' across the board. Leaving Hogwarts had never been an option not for Minerva. She spent every Christmas and Easter there after her mother passed away, during the summer between third and fourth year. She couldn't imagine life without the castle's four walls, and was thrilled when Dumbledore announced his promotion to headmaster and offered her the position of transfiguration professor. She'd been there ever since and wouldn't ever have had it any other way. The school had given so much to her; and she was proud to think she'd given something back to Hogwarts.
She'd fought in the first Wizarding War and lost many friends, and her one-time love – she'd never felt the same feelings since. The war had shaken her and aged her considerably but in time she'd picked herself back up from it and moved on. Somehow she doubted it would be that simple this time.
Minerva got up from her spot on the grass, sitting there had taken her back to her years as a student, from spending lazy spring days revising for exams or completing extra homework to relaxing with a book over the weekend.
She walked the expanse of the grounds which were as expected, deserted. In the courtyard stood scatterings of people in groups and there was an atmosphere of incomplete happiness in the air. The joy of winning the war was overshadowed by the grief of the losses sustained. Minerva saw Parvati Patil in tears being comforted by her friends – she knew her mother had died a few weeks before the end of the war, and now she'd lost her twin Padma too. She saw the same painful story written across so many faces and she could relate to every single person there.
Thick smoke obscured the brilliant blue sky and caught in her throat, making her eyes fill with tears. It billowed from the Forbidden Forest, occasionally with an orange flicker of a not yet extinguished fire in the trees.
The castles once resilient walls lay in ruins and everything was covered in a fine layer of brick dust. Sapphires and rubies glittered up from every surface, seeming to work their way into every crevice. Powdered glass from smashed windows glimmered on the carpet and crunched underfoot as she walked.
In her mind's eye she could see herself walking these very corridors, a young girl again. Corridors which were now littered with rubble and smeared with dried blood every few steps she took. Tears came to her eyes but they didn't fall.
Minerva could imagine eating in the Great Hall. She blinked furiously, the light seeming to have gone out in her eyes as she observed the chaos left behind. Part of the stone floor had been blasted away and the coloured house banners could be described as scorched at best. Her eyes trained on the floor, it brought a lump to her throat to think of the side chamber where so many lifeless bodies lay. The bodies of everyone who had died fighting; the bodies of people she'd come to call her friends. Not a room in the castle remained untouched by dark magic.
Minerva's tears came thick and fast now. They'd won the war, but it had come at a high price. In time the physical scars would fade, leaving only invisible ones etched on their hearts. In time they'd be able to rebuild Hogwarts, but it'd never be the home she'd grown up knowing.