Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Unfortunately.
A/N: For the 'Anything You Wanna Write Competition, Round Three' over on HPFC. I had to write a piece on somebody reflecting on Albus Dumbledore's death, so here it is.
Minerva slowly lowered herself into the comfortable chair in her quarters, lighting the lamp nearby with a wave of her wand. She didn't want to be in darkness, and it wasn't just because she couldn't see anything. It was metaphorical in that her life, recently, had become so dark, with all that had been going on the past couple years. First there was the fiasco with Harry Potter's name coming out of the Goblet of Fire, and You-Know-Who's rebirth later on that school year. The Order of the Phoenix was formed again to fight against his followers. Dolores Umbridge had come to reform Hogwarts, and ended up kicking Albus out. Then there was the battle at the Department of Mysteries, when Cornelius Fudge caught a glimpse of You-Know-Who, and the public finally realized he was back. The worst event, though, had occurred just recently.
Albus Dumbledore had been killed. Even worse, he had been killed by one of the people he trusted the most. Severus Snape. Minerva had known that he had been a Death Eater in the First Wizarding War, but had changed his alliance soon after You-Know-Who's first fall. He had joined the side of the Light, probably, she now thought bitterly, to save his own skin. He hadn't wanted to be thrown in Azkaban like the Lestranges, so he had renounced all his Death Eater doings and became the Potions teacher at Hogwarts. For whatever reason Albus trusted him implicitly; that in itself had not been a good decision. It didn't make any sense. Albus was so wise-had been so wise, she corrected mentally-yet he had believed a former Death Eater saying that he regretted it all.
She snorted. Snape. She had felt bad for the boy when he was in school. He had been picked on by the four most popular boys in his year: James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. He had constantly been going to the hospital wing, the effects of some hex or jinx not wearing off, or else in detention for attempting to perform such a hex or jinx on them. He had been called Snivellus, for crying out loud. His only friend had been Lily Evans, but even she stopped hanging around him sometime at the tail end of their fifth year. As far as the other Slytherins...well, no one could call Slytherins friends. Allies, maybe, but even other Slytherins wouldn't sit down and try to chatter on about meaningless subjects to another from their house. They didn't do meaningless things, at least publicly.
He had been a pitiable boy, because of this, and even into his adulthood she felt bad for what had happened to him in school, but Albus's death changed all that. Minerva refused to feel sorry for a murderer, especially the person who had killed Albus Dumbledore. Severus Snape didn't deserve sympathy and pity, now. What she felt for him was blatant hatred, blatant loathing. He had murdered Albus unprovoked, just strolled in and said the words of the Killing Curse, if Potter was to be believed (and she did believe him). There was no excuse for such a thing. It was cold-blooded murder, and to do such a thing when Albus had allowed Snape to teach at the school, when he had cleared his name...it was absolutely ungrateful.
Even after these weeks, it was still painful to think of Albus being dead and gone. She had known him since she was eleven and he had been the teacher of Transfiguration. She had been praised often in that class, as she was one of the top students through her seven years at Hogwarts. When she had returned as a young woman to train for the position of Transfiguration teacher, it was him who helped her at first, him who trained her. Throughout her years of teaching and his as Headmaster, they had struck up a friendship. They enjoyed each other's company, and often would have intellectual discussions that neither of them could have with anybody else. His death had been a blow to her, as he had been such a close friend.
Minerva had known he would die before her, as he was, indeed, much older. She hadn't expected it to be this way, though, by murder. She would have thought him to go peacefully in his sleep, quietly, as would befit such a man, but instead, Snape had killed him. It was positively infuriating how it had occurred, and that there was nothing she could have done about it. It would have been much easier to accept had he died of old age; it was a calm death that wouldn't have been surprising. It would have still been sad, yes, of course, but she knew that it wouldn't of been this bad.
Even worse was that Severus Snape, his killer, was now Headmaster, residing in Albus's quarters, changing around Albus's office to fit his own methods. The school itself was going to change, as the Carrows, known Death Eaters, had been appointed as professors for the open positions of Defense Against the Dark Arts and Muggle Studies, both of which, she knew, would be completely revamped. Snape had also appointed them as disciplinarians; who knew what manner of curses they would use on the students? Had Albus been here, none of this would have occurred. He was the main fighting force of the Light, for although Potter was a great hope, he was still only a boy. Albus Dumbledore had been who the Light side relied upon. There was nobody fit to fill his shoes now that he was gone.
Minerva sighed. What will happen before this is all over? she thought. Who else will die for our cause? She thought once again of Albus, of his kind, wise manner, and of how this year at Hogwarts everything would be different. She had considered leaving, for a short time, but now she was sure that she would not be handing in her resignation. She had to stay, if not to protect the students, if to protect the memory of Albus Dumbledore, the man who would have watched over them.