Minerva ran up to the 7th year's girls dormitory, fell down on her bed, and started sobbing desperately, throwing her books on the floor.
She had not felt this bad since her father had died. She had not even felt this bad when Silly Sermonem had announced his retirement. And she was crying.
"Crying doesn't help anyone!" she'd said, like, a hundred times. "It is totally useless."
But now she was crying herself and she felt as if the tears would never stop coming. Why? She had been very angry with her new Professor- frustrated and furious, but yet… She had been angry with many people, but she had never started crying afterwards. She was a girl with no regrets. She knew she was responsible for what she did- she had always taken her responsibilities if necessary. So why was she so upset, now?
With her eyes closed, Minerva bit hard in her pillow. She really had to stop crying. She had lost all self-control, and it frightened her more than she dared to admit.
"Lady Minerva- lady Minerva…" she kept on reminding herself of the playful nickname her friends often gave her.
"Come on, Lady Minerva, where are you when I need you?" she spoke sternly to herself, taking one of her large –tartan- handkerchiefs and blowing her nose.
"Okay, here we are, Minerva, what is wrong with you?"
She shook her head. If only she knew that… Why did it- almost hurt her to insult her new Transfigurations teacher?
Because he made her remember her father, perhaps? He probably thought she did not remember him… but he did not know anything of her exceptional memory. She remembered almost everything since her second birthday. She remembered him.
She knew he had visited her parents quite often before her… about her sixth birthday. She had not met him afterwards- perhaps he'd been on her father's funeral…
Minerva sighed as she thought of that terrible time, and of the happy days that had preceded it… She had always been a daddy's girl. How proud her dad had been of his beautiful, intelligent daughter… He was the one who had learnt her almost everything she knew. Not her teachers, no. Her father.
And then, that terrible illness. Her father had faded, just- faded, until everything left of him was an old man. An old man, indeed. Where had been her blushing, nice, healthy father? Gone.
Forever.
Minerva felt the tears return as she thought about the morning she'd received The Owl.
She knew it had to come- but it still was unexpected. An owl from her mother.
"Your father has died."
That sentence had broken her. Ruined her world. Almost killed her. But there was one sentence even worse.
"You'd better not come over for the funeral, Minerva, dear. It would only hurt you, and coming over to Scotland would cause you to lose three days of school."
She had never forgiven her mother that. She couldn't even say farewell to her father. Did mum know what she'd done to her daughter?
But had her beautiful, yet so light-hearted mother ever understood a tiny little bit of her serious, intelligent daughter?
No, she hadn't. She lived in Scotland now, with little Maia, and Minerva did live with her during the holidays, but things had never been the same again since that letter.
And then Silly had been there, Professor Sermonem, to comfort her, to support her, to tell her again and again that the world wasn't all bad. That she had a life in front of her. That she had to live, that she could not waste all her talents.
He had become a new father for her. Not that her dear daddy could ever be replaced. But her wonderful teacher was the closest one could ever get to…
But was this all a reason to loathe Albus Dumbledore.
She had to be honest- she had always been a honest girl. She knew it wasn't. She knew she was acting childish. But she could not help it… He…
And then the owl came flying in. She recognized it immediately. It was Silly's. Impatiently, all her sorrows for a moment forgotten, she opened the yellowish envelope.
"My dear Minerva," it began, and Minerva's eyes quickly absorbed the words. Until a certain sentence came.
"I do really hope you like your new teacher. Albus is a great man- that is why I recommended him to the Headmaster. But I think you'll just adore him, to be honest, Minerva. I know the ideal teacher doesn't exist, but he really is one. Well, he's really wonderful and…"
Minerva looked up from the parchment, cheeks paler than ever, tears on her cheeks again.
She had been wrong. It hit her like a Stunner right in the chest. She wasn't often wrong. But she had been now, and maybe it was best for her to know that Lady Minerva did not always know things better. Absolutely not.
She did not know whether she would apologize to Professor Dumbledore- after all, he hadn't been really nice either. But she had to behave better.
Silly had made her realize that.
Maybe her detention was the first chance to do so.
Review… please… *puppy eyes* ?
She had not felt this bad since her father had died. She had not even felt this bad when Silly Sermonem had announced his retirement. And she was crying.
"Crying doesn't help anyone!" she'd said, like, a hundred times. "It is totally useless."
But now she was crying herself and she felt as if the tears would never stop coming. Why? She had been very angry with her new Professor- frustrated and furious, but yet… She had been angry with many people, but she had never started crying afterwards. She was a girl with no regrets. She knew she was responsible for what she did- she had always taken her responsibilities if necessary. So why was she so upset, now?
With her eyes closed, Minerva bit hard in her pillow. She really had to stop crying. She had lost all self-control, and it frightened her more than she dared to admit.
"Lady Minerva- lady Minerva…" she kept on reminding herself of the playful nickname her friends often gave her.
"Come on, Lady Minerva, where are you when I need you?" she spoke sternly to herself, taking one of her large –tartan- handkerchiefs and blowing her nose.
"Okay, here we are, Minerva, what is wrong with you?"
She shook her head. If only she knew that… Why did it- almost hurt her to insult her new Transfigurations teacher?
Because he made her remember her father, perhaps? He probably thought she did not remember him… but he did not know anything of her exceptional memory. She remembered almost everything since her second birthday. She remembered him.
She knew he had visited her parents quite often before her… about her sixth birthday. She had not met him afterwards- perhaps he'd been on her father's funeral…
Minerva sighed as she thought of that terrible time, and of the happy days that had preceded it… She had always been a daddy's girl. How proud her dad had been of his beautiful, intelligent daughter… He was the one who had learnt her almost everything she knew. Not her teachers, no. Her father.
And then, that terrible illness. Her father had faded, just- faded, until everything left of him was an old man. An old man, indeed. Where had been her blushing, nice, healthy father? Gone.
Forever.
Minerva felt the tears return as she thought about the morning she'd received The Owl.
She knew it had to come- but it still was unexpected. An owl from her mother.
"Your father has died."
That sentence had broken her. Ruined her world. Almost killed her. But there was one sentence even worse.
"You'd better not come over for the funeral, Minerva, dear. It would only hurt you, and coming over to Scotland would cause you to lose three days of school."
She had never forgiven her mother that. She couldn't even say farewell to her father. Did mum know what she'd done to her daughter?
But had her beautiful, yet so light-hearted mother ever understood a tiny little bit of her serious, intelligent daughter?
No, she hadn't. She lived in Scotland now, with little Maia, and Minerva did live with her during the holidays, but things had never been the same again since that letter.
And then Silly had been there, Professor Sermonem, to comfort her, to support her, to tell her again and again that the world wasn't all bad. That she had a life in front of her. That she had to live, that she could not waste all her talents.
He had become a new father for her. Not that her dear daddy could ever be replaced. But her wonderful teacher was the closest one could ever get to…
But was this all a reason to loathe Albus Dumbledore.
She had to be honest- she had always been a honest girl. She knew it wasn't. She knew she was acting childish. But she could not help it… He…
And then the owl came flying in. She recognized it immediately. It was Silly's. Impatiently, all her sorrows for a moment forgotten, she opened the yellowish envelope.
"My dear Minerva," it began, and Minerva's eyes quickly absorbed the words. Until a certain sentence came.
"I do really hope you like your new teacher. Albus is a great man- that is why I recommended him to the Headmaster. But I think you'll just adore him, to be honest, Minerva. I know the ideal teacher doesn't exist, but he really is one. Well, he's really wonderful and…"
Minerva looked up from the parchment, cheeks paler than ever, tears on her cheeks again.
She had been wrong. It hit her like a Stunner right in the chest. She wasn't often wrong. But she had been now, and maybe it was best for her to know that Lady Minerva did not always know things better. Absolutely not.
She did not know whether she would apologize to Professor Dumbledore- after all, he hadn't been really nice either. But she had to behave better.
Silly had made her realize that.
Maybe her detention was the first chance to do so.
Review… please… *puppy eyes* ?