Minerva nodded once more as she slowly, carefully, yet clearly repeated
"I know what I must do. I will accept this task."
She once more nodded, and her determination was showed in the typical way she clenched her thin lips.
"I will accept." Minerva repeated once more, as she looked the remaining two wizards in the eye.
Alastor Moody's feelings were very double. On one hand: enormous relief, because he fully realized it was the last chance they had, and because he knew that Minerva McGonagall was unique: if she couldn't do this, then no-one could. But there was also a feeling of sadness- of guilt even. He knew Minerva had potential- lots of potential indeed- and, though she was still in training, he had always considered her an adult. Well, of course she in fact was an adult, but it was not until this very moment that he realized how very young she still was. Too young for a task like this, a nasty little voice inside his head reminded him. Too young to be sacrificed. Too young to die. But wasn't every living person in fact too young to die? Perhaps, but that didn't stop the little voice, the voice of what probably was his conscience. He fully realized that the chance she survived all this was very small. Could he, he himself, doom a young woman, a girl, even, to such a horrible fate? Could he?
Suddenly, quite unexpectedly, the stern, always-vigilant Head Auror took, with what was a strangely paternal gesture -considering he was only eight years her senior- the girl's right hand.
"Minerva, shouldn't you remember the dangers in this mission before you so rashly accept? How old are you, Minerva?"
The girl raised her chin, narrowed her eyes and spoke
"I am twenty, Sir. But I don't see the relevance of that, actually."
She had said those words in an almost… hostile tone, which so very much differed from her usual, in-control, calm voice. But Alastor's question irritated her. He had wanted her to accept this, now she did accept it and now he tried to make her hesitate? Men… she'd never understand them.
"You are very young, Minerva." Nicolas Flamel understood his friend's worries.
"I think Alastor just wants you rationally think over things, Miss McGonagall. I understand this probably seems quite an adventure to you, but…"
It was obvious that Nicolas did not know whom he was talking to. Not at all, actually.
"No, you do not understand!" Minerva exclaimed, wondering what the hell this man was talking about. She then, obviously remembering her manners, forced a faint smile on her lips.
"I am sorry, Mr. Flamel, but it is true- you do not seem to understand this. I am not up to an "adventure" as you put it- in fact, I realize very well I will probably not survive this. And I do not feel happy about it, actually, but if this is the role I have to play, then this is the role I will play. In fact, I do really want to do this. And not because I am an obsessed, young, un-knowing nymphomaniac, Mr. Flamel! I am young, yes, that is true, but the death of my parents has taught me long ago that life is not a joke."
The piercing look in her emerald eyes confused Nicolas, and she slowly explained
"They were killed, Mr. Flamel. Four years ago. By Grindelwald. And that is why I don't bother risking my life here. It won't bring Mother and Father back."
She laughed hollowly, bitterly
"That I very well know, but if there is the tiniest little chance to revenge them, then I will grasp that chance with both my hands. And if I die, then I will not have died a useless death."
Then, she suddenly treated Alastor and especially Nicolas to a warm smile.
"Do you understand now, Mr. Flamel?"
And he understood. For Nicolas Flamel had suddenly, very suddenly, read something in this so young girl's clear eyes, something he had not expected to find there.
Age.
Wisdom.
A very rare kind of wisdom, in fact, a kind of wisdom which he, in his long, prolonged life, had not very often discovered in people. And certainly not in a girl who was barely more than just that- a girl. Wisdom accompanied with bravery.
But here she sat, before him, and with her determined chin and her brave, greenish eyes, she once more proved that even a man with the life experience of Nicolas Flamel could be proven wrong some time.
And Nicolas bowed his head.
"I do, Miss McGonagall. So be it, then."
"Yes, so be it." Alastor Moody repeated the words of his friend, as he smiled towards Minerva pupil.
"So be it, Minerva, I trust you. The instructions for the plan will be given to you later, but now there is one more thing-"
He glanced at Nicolas, then turned his look towards Minerva, and lowered his eyes under her piercing gaze.
"Minerva, " he spoke with clear difficulty.
"If anything goes wrong, then we cannot help you. That is, in fact, the real danger of the plan. When you accept- and you have accepted- then you'll be all by yourself. We cannot sacrifice all possible men to save you. And even if we did, Grindelwald's troops would be stronger nonetheless. That's the risk."
He looked up at her, and Minerva fiercely bit her upper lip to oppress a quick, rather sharp reply.
"I," she then, very slowly, answered, so as to let her words sink in well.
"am doing this. Of course you can't save me when I ruin things! What did you think I expected? You cannot, you absolutely should not give in the last men we have for me! I have never expected such a thing! I am not naïve, Mr. Moody- Alastor. You know very well I am not naïve."
He suddenly, surprisingly, broadly smiled and covered her small hand with his in a fatherly gesture.
"Yes," he then muttered. "Yes, Minerva, I do know. So, if you don't have any objections, let us now discuss the further details of the plan. And Minerva?"
Minerva looked up once more to the person who had tutored her for two years.
"I wish you all the luck." Alastor Moody sincerely said.
"I know what I must do. I will accept this task."
She once more nodded, and her determination was showed in the typical way she clenched her thin lips.
"I will accept." Minerva repeated once more, as she looked the remaining two wizards in the eye.
Alastor Moody's feelings were very double. On one hand: enormous relief, because he fully realized it was the last chance they had, and because he knew that Minerva McGonagall was unique: if she couldn't do this, then no-one could. But there was also a feeling of sadness- of guilt even. He knew Minerva had potential- lots of potential indeed- and, though she was still in training, he had always considered her an adult. Well, of course she in fact was an adult, but it was not until this very moment that he realized how very young she still was. Too young for a task like this, a nasty little voice inside his head reminded him. Too young to be sacrificed. Too young to die. But wasn't every living person in fact too young to die? Perhaps, but that didn't stop the little voice, the voice of what probably was his conscience. He fully realized that the chance she survived all this was very small. Could he, he himself, doom a young woman, a girl, even, to such a horrible fate? Could he?
Suddenly, quite unexpectedly, the stern, always-vigilant Head Auror took, with what was a strangely paternal gesture -considering he was only eight years her senior- the girl's right hand.
"Minerva, shouldn't you remember the dangers in this mission before you so rashly accept? How old are you, Minerva?"
The girl raised her chin, narrowed her eyes and spoke
"I am twenty, Sir. But I don't see the relevance of that, actually."
She had said those words in an almost… hostile tone, which so very much differed from her usual, in-control, calm voice. But Alastor's question irritated her. He had wanted her to accept this, now she did accept it and now he tried to make her hesitate? Men… she'd never understand them.
"You are very young, Minerva." Nicolas Flamel understood his friend's worries.
"I think Alastor just wants you rationally think over things, Miss McGonagall. I understand this probably seems quite an adventure to you, but…"
It was obvious that Nicolas did not know whom he was talking to. Not at all, actually.
"No, you do not understand!" Minerva exclaimed, wondering what the hell this man was talking about. She then, obviously remembering her manners, forced a faint smile on her lips.
"I am sorry, Mr. Flamel, but it is true- you do not seem to understand this. I am not up to an "adventure" as you put it- in fact, I realize very well I will probably not survive this. And I do not feel happy about it, actually, but if this is the role I have to play, then this is the role I will play. In fact, I do really want to do this. And not because I am an obsessed, young, un-knowing nymphomaniac, Mr. Flamel! I am young, yes, that is true, but the death of my parents has taught me long ago that life is not a joke."
The piercing look in her emerald eyes confused Nicolas, and she slowly explained
"They were killed, Mr. Flamel. Four years ago. By Grindelwald. And that is why I don't bother risking my life here. It won't bring Mother and Father back."
She laughed hollowly, bitterly
"That I very well know, but if there is the tiniest little chance to revenge them, then I will grasp that chance with both my hands. And if I die, then I will not have died a useless death."
Then, she suddenly treated Alastor and especially Nicolas to a warm smile.
"Do you understand now, Mr. Flamel?"
And he understood. For Nicolas Flamel had suddenly, very suddenly, read something in this so young girl's clear eyes, something he had not expected to find there.
Age.
Wisdom.
A very rare kind of wisdom, in fact, a kind of wisdom which he, in his long, prolonged life, had not very often discovered in people. And certainly not in a girl who was barely more than just that- a girl. Wisdom accompanied with bravery.
But here she sat, before him, and with her determined chin and her brave, greenish eyes, she once more proved that even a man with the life experience of Nicolas Flamel could be proven wrong some time.
And Nicolas bowed his head.
"I do, Miss McGonagall. So be it, then."
"Yes, so be it." Alastor Moody repeated the words of his friend, as he smiled towards Minerva pupil.
"So be it, Minerva, I trust you. The instructions for the plan will be given to you later, but now there is one more thing-"
He glanced at Nicolas, then turned his look towards Minerva, and lowered his eyes under her piercing gaze.
"Minerva, " he spoke with clear difficulty.
"If anything goes wrong, then we cannot help you. That is, in fact, the real danger of the plan. When you accept- and you have accepted- then you'll be all by yourself. We cannot sacrifice all possible men to save you. And even if we did, Grindelwald's troops would be stronger nonetheless. That's the risk."
He looked up at her, and Minerva fiercely bit her upper lip to oppress a quick, rather sharp reply.
"I," she then, very slowly, answered, so as to let her words sink in well.
"am doing this. Of course you can't save me when I ruin things! What did you think I expected? You cannot, you absolutely should not give in the last men we have for me! I have never expected such a thing! I am not naïve, Mr. Moody- Alastor. You know very well I am not naïve."
He suddenly, surprisingly, broadly smiled and covered her small hand with his in a fatherly gesture.
"Yes," he then muttered. "Yes, Minerva, I do know. So, if you don't have any objections, let us now discuss the further details of the plan. And Minerva?"
Minerva looked up once more to the person who had tutored her for two years.
"I wish you all the luck." Alastor Moody sincerely said.
