So. A letter. Minerva sighed. Albus did not know how difficult this was to her. She knew how she felt, but how would Noctua react? The girl had just lost her- well… her parents…
"My dear Noctua,"
She bit her lips. If her students could see her now. That strict Professor McGonagall, who always knew what to say and always had an answer for every question… But she didn't have a clue of what to say- or better, write, to that girl whom was so dear to her and whom had just lost… She sighed again and tried to formulate another sentence.
"I am really, really sorry about the death of Alfred and Katie. You know I have always just adored them, and they…"
No. Not good. This girl did not want anymore talk about her parents. At least- that was how she had felt when she had lost her parents, though she, of course, had been almost thirty by then. Yet, she knew Noctua did resemble her, and she thought she could quite perceive how the girl felt. Scratch the last sentence.
"They've always been very, very dear to me, Noctua, and you know it."
This was better. She didn't know exactly why, but it was better… She had, being a teacher for so many years, achieved a very strong feeling of the fine nuances of certain words. This was certainly better. No need to hurt the girl even more than she was hurt already.
"I know it's not easy for you, but I have to ask you a question. I would suggest you to- would you mind coming to… to Hogwarts? In that way, I and Albus can take care of you… I am very sorry to ask you this, dear, but I cannot return to Scotland, and Hogwarts is really a nice place to live. It may be hard to believe for you right now, but you'll see, it really is.
Please sent a letter back as soon as possible. I am sorry, but it is really important. W
With lots of love and support, and also a hug from your aunt,
Minerva"
Minerva smiled. Suddenly, the sentences had flown out of her quill- as if it were magic. Well, maybe it even was magic- she was a witch after all.
With a soft sigh, she bound the letter to the left leg of her beautiful, grey owl.
"Bring this to Noctua, my dear Morag, bring this to Scotland, to Noctua…"
And with a strange voice, she continued, as she saw the dark figure of her owl across the sunny sky "To Noctua- McGonagall."
"My dear Noctua,"
She bit her lips. If her students could see her now. That strict Professor McGonagall, who always knew what to say and always had an answer for every question… But she didn't have a clue of what to say- or better, write, to that girl whom was so dear to her and whom had just lost… She sighed again and tried to formulate another sentence.
"I am really, really sorry about the death of Alfred and Katie. You know I have always just adored them, and they…"
No. Not good. This girl did not want anymore talk about her parents. At least- that was how she had felt when she had lost her parents, though she, of course, had been almost thirty by then. Yet, she knew Noctua did resemble her, and she thought she could quite perceive how the girl felt. Scratch the last sentence.
"They've always been very, very dear to me, Noctua, and you know it."
This was better. She didn't know exactly why, but it was better… She had, being a teacher for so many years, achieved a very strong feeling of the fine nuances of certain words. This was certainly better. No need to hurt the girl even more than she was hurt already.
"I know it's not easy for you, but I have to ask you a question. I would suggest you to- would you mind coming to… to Hogwarts? In that way, I and Albus can take care of you… I am very sorry to ask you this, dear, but I cannot return to Scotland, and Hogwarts is really a nice place to live. It may be hard to believe for you right now, but you'll see, it really is.
Please sent a letter back as soon as possible. I am sorry, but it is really important. W
With lots of love and support, and also a hug from your aunt,
Minerva"
Minerva smiled. Suddenly, the sentences had flown out of her quill- as if it were magic. Well, maybe it even was magic- she was a witch after all.
With a soft sigh, she bound the letter to the left leg of her beautiful, grey owl.
"Bring this to Noctua, my dear Morag, bring this to Scotland, to Noctua…"
And with a strange voice, she continued, as she saw the dark figure of her owl across the sunny sky "To Noctua- McGonagall."
