Have you ever stopped to consider Professor McGonagall? I mean, really sat down and thought about some of the odd facets of her character that shine through in the most unlikely of moments?
Why, for instance, is she such a devoted Quidditch fan?
What is it about Sibyll Trelawney that pushes her buttons?
And where on God's good green earth (muggle or magical) does a girl get a tartan bathrobe, anyway?
If you've always harbored a secret curiosity, then perhaps you will find your long awaited answers in these pages. And if you've never wondered, perhaps you should start. After all, thought is 'like a sharp spear in the hands of the wise'. And who knows? The fate of the world may someday hang balanced on the tip of Athena's Spear.
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Prologue: Certainty in Chaos
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Delicate flakes of snow caressed the ancient window panes of Hogwart's highest tower. Tiny drifts began to settle on the sill, sighing softly like a well placed swish of the wand. Outside, the sun had just begun to peer sleepily over the horizon. Soft though it was, the light reflected brightly on the silvery grounds and the pewter surface of the frozen lake, illuminating the world with a forced sort of cheerfulness.
Flocks of starlings watched the proceedings sedately from their icy roosts today, and somewhere deep in the forbidden forest the centaurs would be lighting their mystic fires to welcome the first snowfall. The right and natural order of things had been upheld, for summer had given way to autumn, and autumn to winter. Life seemed quite determined to continue on, regardless of petty human struggles.
A tall, lean woman watched the morning unfold its splendor in silence. She had grown pale in these last few months. Her smiles were fewer and her cheeks more gaunt. Her bones ached with the weight of a far heavier burden than her youthful seventy one years.
Yet she had assumed the role that was hers to take, and had done it with efficiency and dignity. Surely no one could ask for anything more?
"If anyone expects more than this, then they're blithering imbeciles to begin with." Thought Minerva McGonagall in the privacy of her own head.
The sun rose and the castle woke from its slumber. Breakfast appeared at the high table. The children ate and drank and talked with their usual gusto. Paperwork and interviews were successfully completed. Students were chastised and comforted. Life went on.
The few quiet moments after tea found her at the same old post by the window watching the heart beat of Hogwarts laid out under the chilly December afternoon sky.
Children frolicked in the fresh downfall, as generations of young witches and wizards had done before them, and would continue to do for as long as the earth kept at its turning. It was not that they were unaware of the immanent doom in every newspaper and on every breath, but for a few brief hours they consciously chose to ignore it and delight in their own tiny miracles.
Oh, to be young again!
At times like this, she sometimes wondered how very different life might have been if she had only made better choices. Her practical, no-nonsense side told her that she was a ninny to spend valuable time mulling over might-have-beens. Thankfully, her practical side could not win every internal argument.
It was painful to think about her youthful stupidity, but worth the effort. Egil McGonagall had been very fond of old adages, and a select few had followed his youngest daughter into her adult life. 'Learn from the past, lest you repeat your failures.' was a maxim that Minerva had learned the hard way at the tender age of nineteen. In fact, it could almost be said to be a bit of a theme in her life. Especially in regards to one very special individual…
She shook her head sadly at the thought. Daydreams would not wash the laundry. She could not afford any more mistakes, not when so much depended on her memories and her instincts. Though the first had begun to dull faintly as she passed into middle age, the second had been honed to razor sharpness on the long road she had walked this far.
"I won't waste it this time." She said, leaning a tired brow upon the cool window and watching the world slip past. "I won't let you down, old friend."
As she turned back to face the terrifying stone bowl that rested on her desk, Minerva could feel the sunset on her back. She smiled in spite of her anxiety.
It was a familiar comfort, this faithful rising and setting of the sun. Since childhood, she had taken a small secret measure of strength from knowing that there were indeed a few incorruptible, unwavering constants in the world.
Logic could be overturned, guesses could be proven wrong, people could surprise you and life could end at any moment, but the sun would still come up every morning and go down every night.
Yes, she decided, it was comforting to know.
And with that, Minerva McGonagall sat down to confront seventy years of lies and a pensive full of unanswered questions. When she fell through the other side of consciousness, she hardly knew where she was.
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Authoress's Notes: Ok, this is a prologue, and meant to be short. The entire story probably won't exceed ten or so chapters, but the ideas will definitely be original! Enjoy, and as always, your comments are MORE than welcome!