Here we go for the 3rd chapter!
Yours, Bergère.
Minerva McGonagall's will
I entered the big room in which I had spent much more hours that what was usual for students. But Harry was not a usual student, and being his closer friends explained why Ron and I were kind of un-classical students too. That's in that place that we had tried to talk to Sirius in our 5th year, this same room was the one where Harry had spoken much with the former headmaster, Dumbledore. I sighed, and I felt another tear rushing to my eye and then staying there without even going out when I thought it was also the place where professor McGonagall had been ruling the school for something like two-dozens of years.
I didn't even think it was strange that there were so many comfortable chairs and armchairs in this nice but dark place and sat down next to Ron. We weren't much, and when Neville closed the door, with, on his face, the shadow of sadness, I could feel other tears in my eyes. Yes, I survived thanks to what I had drunk, and I was in a kind of other myself, a mind which was another of mines had taken the place of my usual one. The world itself was different. That's the reason why I could be standing (I was sitting but…) there and listen to the explanations. I did not understand much, words were rushing into my brain, and it was too much for it: it took me several minutes to understand that all this was about the will. At first, I was not even astonished by the fact they needed me for this, I was too dumbfounded for this: I took conscience of it only when they explained what was in that will, and when everyone's sight stayed on my tired face.
Here is the will. I don't know if there's everything, for I got a copy of it later on, and they did not really want me to get one, restive as they were. I assume they did not like what was in it, and I'm pretty sure that if Neville hadn't fought much to keep it until I came, it would have disappeared easily… or maybe she had put a spell strong enough so that they abandoned to destroy it: I have to admit I like this suggestion, it suits to the idea I always got of her. I don't really know if it's a good idea to put this administrative paper in this, but maybe it'll give me more strength to go on, or give more strength to whatever I explain. So sad we wizards don't use photocopies: the paper I have in none of her writing.
I, undersigned Minerva McGonagall, current headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, member of the Order of the Phoenix, swear I do write this will by myself, and am not on power of any curse or force that would oblige me to go against what I resolved to write over there.
All my goods shall be given to any heir you find, son or daughter of a cousin or uncle or whoever, no distinction made because of the "quality" of their blood and their ability to do magic. I don't know myself any heir of that kind, but on this particular point I have confidence on the ministry and am sure they'll find this person (or these) if she does exist. In the case there would be absolutely no one (and even if this would be strange), I want my house to be sold and the galleons given to St Mungo' hospital, in researches to prevent bite people from becoming werewolves. The entire collection of books I possess will be added to Hogwarts' library's collection, whatever if you find an heir or not.
I know it's not the time and place to give long explanations about this school and about my life, but I do want to say how much I wish for Hogwarts, how much it has been a house for me, and I ask humbly the honour of being buried in the very garden of this school worthy of a fairy tale. I'm not a poet, but this place where I spent more than a half of my life shall deserves some poetry…
Here is the end of the first part of this will. There was nothing much complicated in it, I learnt, while half-listening in my shocked state of mind, that with marriages and all this they had found an heiress nearly as aged as professor McGonagall was, but that was it. I possessed my mind enough to think of her natural generosity. A generosity I had always known but that she was once more demonstrating by this donation she wanted to do, and I knew that the werewolves' case was not chosen by chance, it was because she had known Remus. There was also her loneliness, and I suddenly felt some other salted water coming to my eyes without going throw my closed eyelids. At this point, I was not even asking myself the link between me, Harry, these persons all around, and the will of Minerva McGonagall. I wasn't asking myself many things.
The answer came.
What I want to add now is more of the last will of an old lady who has confidence in some people more than in others (no offense to you all from the ministry) than what the headmistress of such a school as Hogwarts is ought to say. I am both, and even if it bothers someone, I am to do whatever I want for this time. I wish I could have been stronger in the past. That's why I feel I have to address, now, a few words to Mr Harry Potter.
It was more and more personal, and half-instinctively, I started listening with a bit more attention: I couldn't get much of it, but I did with what I got, and I could understand quite well which I still think was a miracle –I can't help thinking it was a miracle of hers.
Harry, all I can give you now I leave this life is a thank you I understood I never gave before. And, I have to tell you you've been strong, much more than most men have been and could have been. When professor Dumbledore let me know a bit of his schemes –for they were schemes- I admit I thought a child could not do so much. You did, and it's not being "the boy who lived" that gave you the strength you needed. It's you, your own self and your own mind; you own high level in magical stuff as well. What you did, I don't know if I would have been able to go through it and succeed, and you have to know that you've always been sharing my respect. I can't do much more than give you those pale words (I'm not a poet, I said so). However, there is a little thing I shall give you, and it would please me much if you could take and keep it. My predecessor gave it to me, and you are the one I feel can understand it better.
It seemed quite strange, but whatever she could write with much simplicity and a kind of modesty, without being poetry, it was very touching. Not far from me, I saw a few tears on Harry's cheeks and understood he had also felt very much the few words she had dedicated to him in her will. I also felt curiosity (that was one of the moments when I was the more awaken and able to take an interest in things) when I saw a box a few inches long, in a dark wooden material, and closed with a little lock of a metal quite rusted by time. One of the men from the ministry gave it to Harry who took it with much precautions and delicacy, unable to know what he was supposed to do with it. He was relieved when the same man added to the box a small key, which he grabbed and used immediately. The lock turned in a little noise while everyone had a quite nervous expression, for no one in the room knew what was in the box, and the general idea was that it was a serious, precious thing.
It wasn't, and for the first time I thought that after all, she was not that different from Dumbledore (his influence maybe) and it made me feel strange. I didn't even laugh with everyone with Harry, after a few seconds of astonishment, laughed himself and said with a smile which was everything but fainted "Chocolate frogs' cards". Now, I believe she had thought it was the exact thing Dumbledore would have given, and that it had a symbolical meaning. Yes, it had some symbolical meaning, and that was because she had decided of it. This idea vaguely hit me and another tear stayed still once in my eyes: she was great.
And here comes the moment which has all its importance when you think of its… Well, I don't really know, but it concerned me, and it's the thing that made me feel so strange for a very, very long time. Just the fact she had thought of me seemed unbelievable, that's partly why I had asked for a copy of the will a few days later, to be sure, but it was true. There was nothing of a dream in it.
And now, I come to the subject of Hogwarts. Not an easy subject at all, but a very important one I assume… I'm sure actually. This school deserves someone great enough to rule it well and preserve it. I don't know if I were good enough for this, but I hope so, and I surely won't accept anyone as headmaster here, just as the castle will refuse someone it feels doesn't worth it. That is to say I am very determined in the choice I am now making, and I assume you are already aware of the interest I did put on the numerous spells that will prevent you from changing this particular part of the will –more than the rest.
I, undersigned the exact same, choose Mrs Hermione Jean Granger-Weasley, head of the department of magical-minorities at the ministry, former student of mine, to decide who will be my heir in the ruling of this school. I do this choice with full consciousness of its meaning and importance, and I do swear upon my soul that she is the more apt to do so, by the cleverness she has, and by her very high level in magic as well. I do know this is not going to please the ministry and also that it's to be a very difficult task to accomplish, but Mrs Granger-Weasley already has my full confidence. Her choice is mine, and I know very well she is to do this with much sense and thought: she is to choose Hogwarts' future, and I am glad of it.
Minerva McGonagall,
In full possession of her mind and thought,
Headmistress of the wonderful place Hogwarts is.
Here is the end. Unbelievable, isn't it? You have my total agreement on this, for I had to spend much energy and self-conviction to accept it wasn't a joke, or more likely a dream. Of course, I had overheard my name in the middle of floating words, but it took me several minutes to end up the puzzle they were making into my mind. Then, I looked with a dumbfounded expression at the man who had read this piece of will, and saw he had a look which was no more surprised (I assume he knew the thing before, it was not his first time reading it) but still full of disagreement. Poor of them, ministry guys, they had no choice and it was more than clear that she had been right once more: this idea did bother them and they liked it none. Myself, I thought nothing. I was prostrated, and it's silent and brainless that I assisted to a short dialogue during which Ron smiled politely at everyone, said we were to send on owl, and drove me out of there. He was followed by Harry, I assume, because then he was here also and he gently whispered nice, painless and meaningless words in my ear while I was laying half-asleep half-crying on the couch and Ron was making some strong tea.
And it's by the power of things and events, because of that very choice she had been doing, that I began remembering, day after day, my past, and more particularly what I knew of hers. I took out from piles full of dust the memories and souvenirs I had, deformed by my brain and my envies; I tried to have them come back with much liveliness. They were one of the rare links I could keep, with the mission she had given to me. I dedicated hours and days to do this as well as possible, to be worth of the task she had been giving me –and with it she had given a deep feeling of duty- and by the way I could be nearer of this admired woman. And, for weeks, I mixed up my remembrances, my mission, my questions about why she had chosen me, my dreams, my hopes, my smiles and hers, my cries and the ones I barely saw her have, my own self…
Here it is! The beginning of this moment you are all waiting for (ha-ha, so funny… ^^)
Well, still, we enter true exploration of feelings, some questions…
Thanks, reviews, and… see you!