Minerva McGonagall had always been fair. Stern, but with a heart of gold. She had taught, groomed and loved every student that entered the halls of Hogwarts. The fierce and determined Head of Gryffindor.
The battle of Hogwarts had taken a lot from every participant, every soldier, every fighter. She had watched, heart clenching, as students, her children, fought for their freedom, for peace. She hurled spells faster than her opponents could shield, determined to save her charges. The battle was long and bloody and hard. There was only so much that she could watch and handle. Even then, she ploughed through, her strength shining brighter in the face of her children's safety.
Hogwarts had been her home for a long, long time. The tall towers, the vast lands, the beautiful arched windows, the portraits, the halls and every nook and corner of the castle was her home. She could feel the magic thrumming in her walls. Hogwarts was her home and she would be damned if she didn't protect it. Every part of it, including her students. When the Carrows had invaded the sacred halls, she had raged and threatened. There was no way that she could allow them to taint the magic that made the castle seem almost sentient. There was no way that she could allow them to hurt and torture her children. Every iota of resistance from her side was met with punishments, hexes and curses flying as she defended her students. She might be old, but the magic simmering within her had roared louder and stronger than ever as she fought, fought with all her might until the brother and sister had retreated, unable to hold their own. Her breathing was ragged as she stood there, exhaustion catching up as the adrenaline wore off. Her students came forward, gently holding her hand, walking her back to her quarters. She felt proud. So proud, as she watched them resist the Dark. She watched as Neville grew into a young man, defending the younger students, deflecting and strategizing. Her Gryffindors standing tall and brave and strong. She couldn't help but smile as she saw her Hufflepuff students caring and leading. They were loyal to their school and to their world. They were loyal and good but never weak. They could be as brave as her cubs when they stood up to the injustice running rampant. The Ravenclaws devoured the books that she helped them smuggle. They planned, they learnt and they executed. Spells and shields were taught in secret to every house, every student. The Slytherins, though not many, still resisted. Going against their parents and their prejudices. Yes, she did feel proud.
Minerva worried for Harry, Hermione and Ron. She heard the radio announcements led by Lee Jordan and Fred and George Weasley. When they returned, when she saw them alive and breathing, something in her chest lightened. They looked worn and weary but they were alive. It was after the war, after she had watched people close to her fall, after she had watched Hagrid carrying a dead Harry back as Voldemort laughed. She hadn't been able to help the sound that had escaped her as she saw the limp body. It was after Tom had fallen, the resounding thud echoing around the halls of her home, that she had learned of everything that the trio had gone through in the last year. It was Hermione that had come to her, sat with her and explained, broken and crying what had happened. The horcruxes, the torture, the running. She cried too, tears rolling down her cheeks as she thought of everything that these children had been through. The children that she was supposed to protect. She remembered and cried for every student that had fallen in the battle, past and current. She held the sobbing girl in her arms as she continued, explaining how Harry had died and come back, how Albus had known, had always known. There was fire in her eyes as she raged at the thought of a young boy who had lost so much at such a young age and had never then had an easy year, accepting and welcoming his death. That night after a much more calmer Hermione had gone back to her friends, Minerva took out her bottle of firewhisky.
She saw him the next day, helping in the repairs if the castle with everybody else. She watched as he worked, looking as if he hadn't died and returned. She called him back to her office, her old one. She couldn't face Albus for now. She had to focus on Harry and not rage at the man. Minerva watched as the young man sat gingerly in front of her. She caught his ramrod posture, the twitching of his hand, the darting eyes and the weariness in those emerald eyes. Eyes that were far too perceptive for such a young child. He looked old, older than anybody his age should. The messy black hair was longer than it usually was, the round glasses still slightly skewed as they had always been. She saw all the signs of what the war had done to him, and her heart clenched again. His eyebrows furrowed as those perfect eyes penetrated her, gaze unwavering now. It seemed he had caught on to her mood. The question of whether she was alright was answered with a shaky smile. She wondered just how strong the boy sat in front of her was, how compassionate to be able to ask her is she was alright after everything that he had gone through. She crossed the table and put her arms around the boy, holding him tight. It seemed that was what he wanted as sobs wracked his body, words tumbling out as if they had only been waiting for an opportunity. She gently rubbed circles on his back as she tried soothing him. She listened for the first time as every detail of his life was laid bare before her. The Dursleys and their abuse, the dangers of every year and how he had coped, the running to find the horcruxes, the war, Severus' memories which showed Albus talking about Harry's fate, his death as if the boy was only a chess piece waiting to be sacrificed. She rocked him gently as he stuttered through the memories of having seen Lily, James, Sirius and Remus just before he entered the clearing, the green light of the spell covering his vision in the moment before it hit him, meeting Albus and coming back. The twisting sensation in her heart increased as Harry said with the most passionate voice that he could never regret his choice for it meant the safety of every person he had ever loved. They talked for a long time and in the end it was a boy with a brighter expression that left the cozy office. She felt guilty at the thought of how she should have fought harder with Albus when he had placed the young child with Petunia. His childhood could have been a lot better and she would forever blame herself for it though Harry, with those intense green eyes had told her that she needn't blame herself. That night it was another bottle of firewhisky that was opened.
She marched into her headmistress office, righteous anger simmering under her skin, her magic turbulent and roaring. The twinkle in Albus' eye only served to increase her ire. She set her blazing eyes on the portrait of her long time colleague. She shouted, a lot and it seemed Albus was aware of every string he had pulled, controlling the boy's life. He repeated time and again, that he had to do it, to save wizard kind and for the greater good. There was no stopping Minerva as she raged on, about how his duty as the Headmaster entailed caring for his charges, not placing them in abusive homes and moulding them into perfect little soldiers who were ready to sacrifice themselves. In the end, as she lost her steam, Albus seemed rightly shaken and distraught. He told her that there had never been a day in his life that he hadn't resented abandoning all his morals, never a day where he wasn't disgusted by the man he saw in the mirror. She heaved a sigh and nodded to him before she exited the office, resolving that she would be a better Headmistress than Albus ever was. She would bring her home back to its former glory and there was nothing that could stop her now.
Headmistress Minerva McGonagall walked to the Great Hall and dived into the repairing work, standing by her students, by her children.