Dinner at Hogwarts.
Minerva had always loved dinner at Hogwarts- and not only because of the plates, which were always filled with the most delicious food imaginable… well, all the better, of course, but…
It was more… the atmosphere. Though Minerva would, of course, never admit it openly, she adored all her students. Especially her Gryffindors, whom were like real children to her.
And seeing them all together, merrily and laughingly, always managed to make her happy.
But not now.
The usual chattering had faded, and now, if someone laughed a little bit too loud, students from all Houses gave him or her the strangest looks. As if laughing was inappropriate here.
Yet it wasn't. If there was something Albus had ever taught Minerva, then it was that. Laughing was a necessary thing- something that could make you feel better, something that could heal you.
But Minerva understood the reaction of her "little cubs"; as she tended to call them.
The empty places at the table of Slytherin took her breath away as well. Those terrible empty spots, which made the large table look way too large…
Only a few first- and second years were still present. All the older students were gone. They had chosen the side of the besieging Lord. As they fathers and grandfathers had chosen it before them.
Poor kids, Minerva thought despite herself, sitting on her usual chair, next to the large chair of the Headmaster. Did they have a choice, then? Did they? Oh, weren't they just puppets in their fathers' hands? They didn't have the right to choose.
Or perhaps they had, Minerva recalled as she noticed a tall, slim girl with long reddish hairs, sitting at Slytherin table. It was Blaise Zabini, and she was the only 7th year's Slytherin who had had the guts to tell her father that she didn't intend to follow the path of evilness her forefathers had followed. Zabini, Minerva knew, was a Death Eater of the worst kind- and his only daughter's disobedience had most probably been quite… surprising to him.
But it gave Minerva hope for the future- everything was not lost if this girl, a girl in whose veins the blood of the most malicious Dark Wizards flowed, had the bravery to stand up against her family and show her loyalty to her school. For that was real bravery. Bravery worthy of Gryffindor.
One beacon of hope, yes, but so many beacons of sadness as well.
And Minerva knew her "cubs" detested the Slytherins- of course they did… as Gryffindors and Slytherins had always disliked each other. Yet this had shocked them. They had always thought of their rivals as sneaky, idiotic and mean kids. But not… not really evil, not… not real junior Death Eaters. Yet that they had obviously been all those years…
Minerva shook her head and sighed.
Suddenly, a soft nudge woke her from her thoughts. As she looked up, the twinkling eyes of her husband greeted her.
"You were dreaming, Professor McGonagall?"
Minerva smiled faintly.
"Yes, I was. But it weren't pleasant dreams."
As her gaze strayed off again towards that strangely empty table, her husband nodded.
"I know. It is terrible. You've taught them- and now they are fighting against you. I taught Voldemort. I know the feeling."
Minerva sighed again and nodded as well.
"I know you know it. But how do you think I feel? Tom was… and Albus!" she then suddenly exclaimed, as she felt a very familiar foot stroke against hers.
"Are you playing footsie with me again?"
Her husband grinned as her laid a finger on his thin lips.
"Shhh… Minerva, we don't want everybody to know it, do we? And yes, my dear, I am, for we've had enough sadness for tonight and you need to relax!"
"Okay, *mother*." Minerva muttered, yet she smiled.
"Albus Dumbledore, you are just incorrigible. You are just a big child- and yet, for some reason, I appear to love you."
Albus grinned as his booted foot lightly touched hers again.
"I know that, my love, and you know what? It is mutual."
Minerva had always loved dinner at Hogwarts- and not only because of the plates, which were always filled with the most delicious food imaginable… well, all the better, of course, but…
It was more… the atmosphere. Though Minerva would, of course, never admit it openly, she adored all her students. Especially her Gryffindors, whom were like real children to her.
And seeing them all together, merrily and laughingly, always managed to make her happy.
But not now.
The usual chattering had faded, and now, if someone laughed a little bit too loud, students from all Houses gave him or her the strangest looks. As if laughing was inappropriate here.
Yet it wasn't. If there was something Albus had ever taught Minerva, then it was that. Laughing was a necessary thing- something that could make you feel better, something that could heal you.
But Minerva understood the reaction of her "little cubs"; as she tended to call them.
The empty places at the table of Slytherin took her breath away as well. Those terrible empty spots, which made the large table look way too large…
Only a few first- and second years were still present. All the older students were gone. They had chosen the side of the besieging Lord. As they fathers and grandfathers had chosen it before them.
Poor kids, Minerva thought despite herself, sitting on her usual chair, next to the large chair of the Headmaster. Did they have a choice, then? Did they? Oh, weren't they just puppets in their fathers' hands? They didn't have the right to choose.
Or perhaps they had, Minerva recalled as she noticed a tall, slim girl with long reddish hairs, sitting at Slytherin table. It was Blaise Zabini, and she was the only 7th year's Slytherin who had had the guts to tell her father that she didn't intend to follow the path of evilness her forefathers had followed. Zabini, Minerva knew, was a Death Eater of the worst kind- and his only daughter's disobedience had most probably been quite… surprising to him.
But it gave Minerva hope for the future- everything was not lost if this girl, a girl in whose veins the blood of the most malicious Dark Wizards flowed, had the bravery to stand up against her family and show her loyalty to her school. For that was real bravery. Bravery worthy of Gryffindor.
One beacon of hope, yes, but so many beacons of sadness as well.
And Minerva knew her "cubs" detested the Slytherins- of course they did… as Gryffindors and Slytherins had always disliked each other. Yet this had shocked them. They had always thought of their rivals as sneaky, idiotic and mean kids. But not… not really evil, not… not real junior Death Eaters. Yet that they had obviously been all those years…
Minerva shook her head and sighed.
Suddenly, a soft nudge woke her from her thoughts. As she looked up, the twinkling eyes of her husband greeted her.
"You were dreaming, Professor McGonagall?"
Minerva smiled faintly.
"Yes, I was. But it weren't pleasant dreams."
As her gaze strayed off again towards that strangely empty table, her husband nodded.
"I know. It is terrible. You've taught them- and now they are fighting against you. I taught Voldemort. I know the feeling."
Minerva sighed again and nodded as well.
"I know you know it. But how do you think I feel? Tom was… and Albus!" she then suddenly exclaimed, as she felt a very familiar foot stroke against hers.
"Are you playing footsie with me again?"
Her husband grinned as her laid a finger on his thin lips.
"Shhh… Minerva, we don't want everybody to know it, do we? And yes, my dear, I am, for we've had enough sadness for tonight and you need to relax!"
"Okay, *mother*." Minerva muttered, yet she smiled.
"Albus Dumbledore, you are just incorrigible. You are just a big child- and yet, for some reason, I appear to love you."
Albus grinned as his booted foot lightly touched hers again.
"I know that, my love, and you know what? It is mutual."