Disclaimer : Everything belongs to JKR.
Many thanks to my beta, Somigliana, who had done a very good job in beta-read.
The crowded room fell silent. Witches and wizards had come from all over Great Britain to hear the testimony. The Ministry of Magic had had a hard time pleasing everyone. At first, they had allocated random tickets for the testimonial, but alas, as big as the Courtroom One was, they had still had complaints from members of the wizarding community that wished to attend. When there had been murmurings of revolt, the Minister Scrimgeour decided to relay the testimonial to each wizarding home via an adapted version of i Sonorus /i . A Weasley, probably Arthur, had done an amazing job copying this Muggle radio in record time. Only the cream of the Wizarding world was in attendance. Rita Skeeter, reporter for the
Daily Prophet, and Luna Lovegood, for The Quibbler, could see that almost the whole Order was there; some of the survivors were still in St. Mungo's recovering from their wounds. There were also the Malfoys, proud as usual, a bit annoyed, but still here. And there were so many other people; it was hard to notice everyone. But the Ministry's official photographer, Colin Creevey, was there to immortalize the moment.
The full Wizengamot sat calmly; they were neither impressed nor excited by the whole situation. After all, it was not really a trial. They were just there to record the truth so the new generation (or worse a mad witch or wizard) would never rewrite History. They were only doing their job. On the contrary, Scrimgeour wanted everything to be perfect; he did indeed wish to stay in office for another few years. The Minister slightly nodded to the witch who was sitting in the chair in the centre of the room. Of course, she wasn't chained. She was a respected woman, and almost everyone in the room knew her from their schooldays or as a parent. Everybody could sense that she exuded dignity and authority.
The court scribe was already taking notes.
The old witch coughed a little, to gain confidence she did not need. "I, Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, swear to tell the truth." The old Scottish witch spoke very slowly and very loudly. She wanted everyone to hear what she had to say.
The Interrogators nodded, but the Chief Warlock Bones reminded the audience that it was an important and solemn moment. "Headmistress, before you begin, remember that you are not here to teach a lesson. Please stay as objective as possible. I know it might be a little hard, but try to forget for a moment that you lived through it. Be the eyes of the future and tell us what happened on the twentieth night of March. We would have preferred to use a Pensieve and spare you this ordeal, but as everyone knows, you were badly injured and it wouldn't be a safe way for you." Bones seemed to look up something in her papers. "Yes. Hippocrates Smethwyck, St.Mungo's medical expert, suggested you would be destabilized by the use of a Pensieve. Holes in your memories would be dangerous while you are still weak". Bones quickly glanced at Scrimgeour; it had been his idea to reveal the truth as quickly as possible to avoid the creation of any false rumours or legends.
Minerva smiled to Amelia, but snorted coldly "Of course, Amelia. Do not imagine that a Gryffindor could lie, that a teacher could change history and moreover, that the head of the Order of the Phoenix, by will of the late Albus Dumbledore, would depict Tom's followers as nice people. I, and so many witches and wizards, fought alongside Harry Potter in order to defeat Voldemort".
Even dead, the name of the Dark Lord made people cringed a little; they were still afraid of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named-Even-Dead.
"Then, you may begin," Bones simply answered.
The former head of Gryffindor pushed her glasses back. To tell the truth, she was a bit impressed by this crowd and even more awed by the fact that every witch and wizard; those that she knew and many more that she didn't know, was going to listen to her speak. It was a bit scary, but soon, images of what she lived through that night came quickly to her mind.
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Even as the Headmistress of Hogwarts, she had kept her old office. She had never been able to use Albus' office after he had been killed years ago by The Traitor; as everyone in the wizarding world had named Severus Snape. Everybody more or less regarded Dumbledore as something close to the great Merlin. Snape was the one who had dared kill the one that should have defeated the Dark Lord. That night, The Traitor killed the only hope of the wizarding world. Of course, there was still the Boy-Who-Lived, but he had no experience and he was now left without mentor. Besides, no one knew about the Prophecy.
Minerva was having tea with her apprentice and soon-to-be successor, Hermione Granger. The girl--no, the woman,--was grading some first-year papers to help Minerva to get ahead with her teaching duties. The old witch could not help noticing how Hermione had changed. Of course, the war had changed everybody. The loss of friends, of family and of innocence always changed people. She was so sad to see it happen once more. Once Grindelwald had been defeated, everyone had thought "never again". The same thing had happened after the first defeat of Voldemort a little more than twenty yeas ago. She shook her head. Would she ever be able to see young people living an ordinary life?
Hermione was so calm, so serious. Even her dark green robe was too serious for her; she looked older. If it weren't for the low neckline, she could have had almost been wearing the same robe as hers. And she was way older; Hermione could have been her granddaughter. Absentmindedly, Minerva noticed that Hermione's hands were sullied by ink. She smiled a bit; her apprentice was still the same Hermione she knew after all, and she shouldn't be too worried about her.
As if she had heard her thoughts, the young woman put down her quill and smiled. "Finished, at last! So, Minerva, how was your day?" And then they began to chat quietly about life, Transfiguration, and everything but the war, which was a taboo subject during their biweekly tea session. Like everyone, they needed some ordinary time, a moment to forget everything and to be oneself once again. No more worries, no more duties, no more angst.
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Minerva began to relate the events of that event to the waiting crowd. "It was an ordinary evening. I was at Hogwarts with Hermione Granger, my apprentice. There was no hint that we were going to be living through the most memorable battle in wizarding history, the which would free our world." She heard people holding their breath as if they were going to live through the final battle themselves. Minerva snorted a bit; a large part of the audience had just been at home that day, perhaps fearing that a group of Death Eaters would attack. They were just ordinary people who had been waiting for one or another side to win. Only a handful of people had had the guts to rise and to fight, and she was going to do her best in telling the truth for the good of the history.
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Minerva, who was due to patrol, decided to walk her apprentice back to her chambers. That way, they could talk together a little longer. Since Albus had dead, the teachers were not so friendly towards each other. Maybe because of what The Traitor had done, or maybe because it was just the war; hardly anybody knew who they could trust anymore. Snape had not been loved, but his fellows had trusted him just because Albus had. They had been hurt by what he had hidden for so many years, and the realisation of how he had lied to them.
That night, the castle seemed so empty, and their steps echoed a little, which was surprising. There was no sound, not even the ghosts who always drifted here and there. But, it was dark and in the dark the castle always seemed more mysterious then.
As if she'd had the same thoughts, Hermione was about to cast Lumos, but Minerva just raised a hand to stop her. The older witch went up to the nearest window. She tightened her cloak around her shoulder and looked through the window. The moon was hidden behind the clouds. The sky was darker than usual. The grounds seemed so quiet, as if they had been somehow 'Stupefied'. But soon, the wind swept the clouds away. The lake was lit up in a moment with the full moon. Everything was black and white.
"I know how dangerous a night like this one might be, but I have always thought there was an enchanting display of colours," Hermione whispered, as if she did not want to disturb the odd feeling of emptiness that was in the castle. "It is as if everything was possible. As if peace wasn't a nice mirage, an invention of the mind."
Minerva just nodded, without looking at Hermione. However, she was not really listening. There was something strange near Hagrid's hut. The former head of Gryffindor screwed up her eyes, trying to see something in the dark. Hermione, who had been looking at her friend, looked through the window once again. There, a tiny ball of light was coming towards them. It was like a Snitch, but faster, as if something might be faster than the well-known golden ball used in Quidditch play. In an instant it was there, in front of their window. The two witches gasped. Minerva didn't even hear the sound of Hermione's books falling on the floor. She was already running towards her office, all patrols and feelings of tranquillity already forgotten. It had begun.
