After the wedding, Minerva sat down on a wooden bench in the back part of the Weasleys' garden. This was the first time that she visited The Burrow, a place much different than her own family estate. Both houses had been in the respective wizarding families for generations, but while McGonagall Manor was a typical Scottish castle full of family heirlooms and portraits of ancestors, the Weasley house was a place was where a family actually lived together. Minerva enjoyed being there.
From her quiet sitting place she took a look around in the garden. Quite a few people she knew had been invited – half of the Order of the Phoenix were there, and Madame Maxime had accompanied Fleur's family to England. She had insisted that this wedding was, in a way, a Beauxbatons-Hogwarts wedding and thus an auspicious omen in these bad times, but secretly Minerva suspected that Olympe Maxime had just sought an excuse to come and see Hagrid. Momentarily the two half-giants sat together in a distant part of the garden, sharing tea they drank out of cups way too small for them.
The ceremony had been held in the garden. Everything was decorated with bright coloured garlands, and the twins had announced one of their famous fireworks for the evening. Friends and family now stood together, laughing and chattering. Fleur's younger cousins played under the tables together with some distantly related Weasley children – at their age, the language barrier was easy to overcome.
Ginny Weasley and Fleur's sister Gabrielle, both dressed in identical pale gold robes, had been the bridesmaids. Minerva smiled a little while she studied the two of them. Gabrielle, ten or maybe eleven years old, had the appearance of a little girl dressed up as an angel for a Christmas school play.
Ginny, on the other hand, looked stunningly pretty. Now sixteen years old, she had already turned into a young woman. She had twisted her hair in an elegant knot instead of wearing it open like she usually did, and the robes gave her a fairy-like appearance. The only feature not consistent with that fairy image was the way she knitted her brow every time she looked at Harry.
Harry Potter. Minerva sighed and started looking for him. Soon she spotted him and Ron helping Mrs Weasley with setting the tables. The young wizard did not look well. Although he looked happy enough for the moment, Minerva noticed dark rings under his eyes and he appeared much leaner than before.
Harry had told her after Dumbledore's funeral that he would not return to Hogwarts any more, but would go to Godric's Hollow instead and start looking for a way to defeat Voldemort. He had refused any help from the Order of the Phoenix.
From what Minerva knew Harry had set off on his quest immediately on his seventeenth birthday, accompanied only by Ron and Hermione. They had not even returned to The Burrow for Ginny's birthday on the previous Monday. Judging by Harry's disheartened appearance, he had not been hugely successful in the two and a half weeks that had passed since he had left the Dursleys.
"Ees zees seat taken?"
Minerva looked up in surprise. She had been so lost in thought that she had not noticed Fleur approaching.
"Do sit down, Mrs Weasley," she replied.
Fleur beamed when Minerva used her new name and sat down with a graceful movement. She spread the skirt of her silvery white wedding gown out and adjusted the golden tiara Bill's aunt had given her for the occasion.
"Merci, 'eadmistress."
The young bride smiled at Minerva. She did truly look very beautiful.
"Eet is so nice and quiet back 'ere in the garden. I really like zees place now that I 'ave become friends with Bill's family."
"Was is that hard? I've always thought the Weasleys were very friendly people."
"Non, eet was not that 'ard. The boys were very nice. I theenk only Ginny 'ad a bit of a problem with me, she was protective of 'er brother – and Molly of course did not want to let 'er son go so quickly."
"A typical motherly thing, I suppose," Minerva replied dryly.
Fleur grinned back at her. Then she grew more serious again.
"Zere ees something I wanted to tell you," she said. "I am very grateful zat you came to see us 'ere to-day. I theenk zis is a sad time for you. You 'ave lost a close friend."
"A very close friend…" Minerva repeated sadly. "Yes, dear, that is true. But I am glad I came here today. Albus used to say that the world needs a little more love – he would be so proud of you two."
"Ah, merci bientôt," Fleur smiled. "I am so glad you say zat. Some zought a wedding in times like zees was not appropriate."
"It is more than appropriate. For months, we have only heard of deaths and attacks… I hope this day will mark the beginning of many joyful years for you."
"Eet will, I am sure of zat."
Fleur leaned closer to Minerva.
"There ees something good going to 'appen soon. I am going to 'ave a baby, isn't zat wonderful?"
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Later in the evening, Minerva walked through the garden again, once more in search of Harry. She wanted to check on the young man and talk to him herself. Even if he did not want her help at the moment, she was absolutely certain that he would ultimately not succeed without the help of the Order of the Phoenix.
She found Harry sitting on exactly the same bench she had occupied earlier that day, but not alone. Ginny was with him.
Minerva steered away again and watched them from a little distance. Harry sat with his elbows resting on his knees, his head bent down. Ginny, sitting not too far away from him, appeared to be talking rapidly. Once she touched Harry's left elbow, but Harry pulled his arm away with a gentle movement and looked at her sadly.
Minerva turned away and went back to the house. She did not want to spy on that discussion.
In the Weasley house, she found the rooms downstairs almost deserted. Everyone was outside where the twins were preparing their grand fireworks. Only two of Fleur's elderly aunts sat on a sofa in the living room, leafing through an old photo album of the Weasley family. They seemed particularly interested to see what Bill had looked like before the werewolf attack.
"C'est très lamentable, n'est-ce pas? Il était un homme bel," one of them exclaimed, pointing at a picture that showed Bill in Egypt.
"Oui, quel dommage, quel dommage!" the other lady agreed. "Mais il l'aime, c'est le principal."
Minerva nodded in agreement. Certainly true love was more important than being handsome. One of the two old witches smiled at her.
"Comprenez-vous français, ma chère?" she asked.
"Juste un peu," Minerva admitted. Her French was not too good, and the two aunts spoke very fast.
"Mais c'est magnifique!" the French witch replied. "Me, I speek Eenglish very leettle only. May I introduce us? I am Colette, aunt of Fleur. And zees is my 'alf-sister, Mireille."
"Minerva McGonagall," Minerva introduced herself. "I was Bill's teacher in Hogwarts."
"Ah, we 'ave 'eard of you!" Mireille said happily. "Vous êtes la dame qui peut se transformer en chat, une Animagus! Bill nous a dit. A grey cat, non?"
"That's right, une chatte grise," Minerva confirmed while sitting down with the sisters. She never would have thought that her Animagus abilites were that famous.
"And you knew cher Bill at school, at zees 'ogwarts? – Zees name ees horrible for us!"
"Yes, he was an excellent student. He even became a prefect and later Head Boy."
"I theek there ees a picture of 'im at school, 'ere, look…"
Colette rapidly searched through the pages and finally found a picture that showed Bill and Charlie together after Charlie had won the Quidditch House Cup with the Gryffindor team. Charlie held the trophy up high, and Bill had his arm around his younger brother's shoulders. Some other students of the Quidditch team were also in the picture, dancing and shouting with joy.
Minerva even spotted herself in the background, wearing a Gryffindor scarf and standing next to Severus Snape. She cheered triumphantly while he shook her hand with a forced smile, wearing much the same expression he had displayed when in Harry's first year at Hogwarts Gryffindor had surprisingly won the House Championship.
"Ah, vous êtes là aussi. Et cet homme avec la cape noir, qui est-il?"
Colette pointed to Snape in the picture. With his ever black robes and his sombre expression, he seemed out of place in the company of all the cheering children.
"This man is Severus Snape," she explained to the two aunts. "He used to be Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House, we won the Cup against his team that day. And he…"
Minerva broke off. She did not want to talk about who or what else Snape was. Mireille patted her hand softly.
"Je regrette, Professeur. We 'ave 'eard of 'im, of course. I apologise, we did not want to speak of 'im."
"That's quite alright, you did not know," Minerva managed to say. She was proud to notice that her voice did not shake or betray emotion in any other way.
Colette slammed the photo album shut and placed it on the coffee table in front of them.
"Mireille, Professeur, let us go outside. I theek that zeese feux d'artifice that Fred and George 'ave prepared must be ready now. Let us celebrate to-day, not theenk of sad issues."
Mireille and Minerva got up from their seats and the three witches started going outside, but in the last moment Minerva excused herself and went back into the living room. She picked the photo album up again and looked through the pages containing school pictures of the Weasley children. There were only a few, and none of the others showed any teachers.
Minerva stared at the picture showing Snape and herself. She remembered the day well. The rivalry between their houses had always been a playful game between Snape and herself, a sport where they competed against each other knowing full well how ridiculous it was to put so much effort into something that was little more than a childish contest.
They had relentlessly teased each other about the issue and tried to push their own house ahead – Snape by favouring his own students, and Minerva by making sure that her students behaved so well that no one could possibly take points from them. And of course both of them had actively supported their Quidditch teams.
She had enjoyed their rivalling friendship – in fact, she had been proud of it. Snape had never much opened up to any of his fellow teachers. Of course Dumbledore had been close to him, but Minerva had been the only other staff member who had at times had the impression that he actually liked her. She had welcomed him back at school when he had renounced his dark past. Obviously she had been terribly wrong to do so.
'Bloody, rotten traitor,' she cursed him in her thoughts. 'You bastard, you foul-minded, evil liar…'
Snape in the photograph had crossed his arms again and looked around with a sour expression on his face. Minerva's photo image smiled and waved at Charlie and his team. Snape observed her unusually excited movements and the ghost of a smile appeared on his face, just hinting at genuine amusement.
Minerva froze while watching the scene in the picture. She had back then not noticed this tiny little change in his face, but she would not have been surprised to see it. He had always taunted her about becoming too emotional when Quidditch was involved. This smile Minerva now saw in the photograph was that of a true friend who knew her well and who only played his part in their amiable competition.
Minerva just could not understand how she and Albus could have been so wrong in their judgement. This tiny sparkle of delight that she had just seen in the expression of Snape's photographic image – it had looked so authentic, so true. Could anyone on earth be that good an actor and fake such amity for years? Had he truly been a secret Death Eater all those years, or, if he had not been, when had he turned back to Lord Voldemort? Judging from an emotional point of view, Minerva still could hardly believe that she had ever been mistaken about Snape's loyalty.
But his deeds were obvious. He was a traitor and a murderer, and they had simply been wrong to ever believe anything else. Now that Minerva looked at the image of the pale, lean wizard, all she could feel was deepest loathing and hatred. He had murdered the man she had loved, the man who had given her back her life after those dreadful events in her last school year…
Her fingernails scratched the photograph where Snape's face was. She wanted to erase every trace of this man, erase him from her memory and her heart.
"Professor McGonagall?"
Ginny Weasley's voice startled Minerva. She quickly put the album back onto the table and turned around to the young witch.
"Miss Weasley?"
Ginny came closer and casually glanced at the picture book. She frowned instantly.
"I wanted to rip that picture out of the album and throw it away, but Mum wouldn't let me. She said it's the only photo we have of Charlie in his Quidditch robes, and Bill and Charlie were so happy on that day…"
"I think your mother is right, Ginny," Minerva said somewhat sadly. "We cannot change the past by wiping out evidence of what once seemed true."
"I know."
Ginny shook her head and put the album back on the book shelf with resolute gestures.
"Professor, while everyone is outside watching the fireworks, I wondered if I could talk to you for a moment?"
"Certainly. What can I do for you?"
"It's about Harry…" Ginny bit her lip unconsciously. "I worry about him."
"So do I, Ginny. I watched him during the ceremony today. He does not look well."
"So I'm not the only one who thinks so." Ginny actually sounded relieved that someone shared her thoughts.
"I just had a long talk with Harry. He keeps telling me that he wants to go through with all this alone because he does not want to endanger anyone else. He feels guilty for – you know, for Dumbledore's death."
"It's quite remarkable how many of us blame themselves for that," Minerva said bitterly. "I, because I sent for Snape that night… Filius, because he did not duel Severus properly… And now Harry, too."
"That's right, Harry, too," Ginny confirmed equally bitter.
"He keeps telling me that he should have done something to prevent it, but you know, I don't think he could have. He never told me all the details of what happened on the tower. But… I don't know how to say it, he can't let go. He has nightmares about it."
Minerva looked at Ginny quizzically; after all she had assumed that the young couple had split up after the school-year had ended. Ginny caught her eye.
"Ron told me – they share a room here. And… once Harry screamed in his sleep so loud that I heard it in my room. I mean, look at him, it's easy to tell he hardly gets a good night's sleep."
"I see," Minerva replied quietly. "But what would you like me to do? How could I help him?"
"Talk to him. He keeps saying he cannot speak of that night, but I think he wants to talk. He has to speak of it to make those dreams stop, and maybe you could break through these walls he's build up around himself."
Minerva closed her eyes for a second and wondered what to do.
Speak to Harry about Dumbledore's death... of course, she had to try. She would do anything to make Harry's task easier, and to help him open up. The boy needed the help of the Order of the Phoenix. But it would not be easy to hear about the details of Dumbledore's death and Snape's betrayal.
"I will try, Miss Weasley. Do not expect too much from me, but maybe you are right and Harry is ready to talk."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The two witches went outside together. Fred and George's brilliant fireworks illuminated the house and the garden – the twins had ingeniously worked out a way to ensure that no non-magical person could detect the beautifully sparkling lights. Absent-mindedly Minerva stopped for a second when she saw the two brothers standing next to each other, watching their work proudly. She was quite impressed with their talent for experimental and creative magic.
Ginny tugged at her sleeve impatiently and pointed to the back of the garden where Harry still was. Ron and Hermione were with him now, as well as Remus Lupin and Tonks. The five of them had sat down on the dry grass and watched the firecrackers explode above them. Minerva and Ginny joined them quickly; Ginny letting herself drop to the ground unceremoniously while Minerva carefully laid out her cloak as a blanked before she sat down on the grass.
Harry looked at Minerva without much surprise. He appeared unable to make up his mind whether to look annoyed or amused. Minerva smiled at him in what she hoped was an encouraging manner.
"Ginny said she'd go and fetch you," the young wizard said.
"You know I had to!" Ginny exclaimed hotly. "You cannot go on like this, please, Harry, do talk to us –"
"I cannot. I gave Dumbledore my word that I'd keep secret what we did that night, I've told you –"
"Harry," Tonks cut it, "listen, you know you can trust us. And we really want to help you. You don't need to tell us any secret stuff, just… you know, loosen up a bit. Something is bothering you –"
Harry interrupted Tonks with an impatient gesture of his hand. Minerva mustered him for a long while. Harry looked tired and worn out. It wasn't just the dark rings under his eyes or the fatigue showing even in the way he moved, but there was an air of desperation and helplessness that the young man radiated.
Suddenly Minerva was reminded of Snape again, when she had seen him just before he had left to re-join Voldemort's circle after the Triwizard Tournament. He had worn the same expression of stubborn determination mingled with the same suppressed trepidation and anxiety of a man who had to shoulder a task too big for him.
"Harry…" Minerva started quietly, "maybe we can make a deal. You don't have to tell us anything. I will tell you what I know, or what I think I know. There are only members of the Order of the Phoenix here, and your trusted friends. You don't even have to tell me if I'm right with what I have concluded. But maybe it will make you feel less alone."
Harry stared at her blankly, but then he nodded.
"Sounds fair," he said.
Minerva looked up at the fireworks again. It was difficult where to start.
"I know that Dumbledore told you all that he knew by the end of your fifth year – which means that last year, during your private lessons with him, the two of you must have speculated about what else we know about You-Know-Who. I think both of you must have collected information on him."
Minerva paused for a moment to wait for Harry's reaction. Surprisingly he nodded almost enthusiastically.
"During the last years," Minerva continued, "Professor Dumbledore and I have often wondered how You-Know-Who could have survived in this reduced form. There is only one way that I know of to avoid certain death – a Horcrux. We thought that maybe Tom Riddle's diary was a Horcrux."
"What is a Hor-" Ginny started, but Ron immediately interrupted her.
"Shut up, Ginny, I'll explain later!"
Meanwhile both Lupin and Tonks had gasped, they most obviously knew what Horcruxes were. Harry stared at Minerva, his expression not giving away anything – but he did not contradict her, either.
"Now, Harry, what I know is that you have gone back to your aunt and uncle until you turned seventeen. Then you went off on some mission you did not want to tell us about, only your two best friends joined you. It seems that there is something you want to do or have to do before you can finally confront You-Know-Who – which you are certainly planning to do at some point."
Again Harry did not reply. Minerva looked him directly in the eyes.
"You destroyed the diary years ago. Dumbledore went on a mission last year that almost killed him, and he left together with you on a mission equally dangerous. There is at least one Horcrux left, isn't there?"
Harry turned his gaze away from Minerva. The Headmistress held her breath while Harry stared at his hands, trying to make up his mind. She did not know how long they sat together in silence – most likely no more than a few seconds, but time seemed to have slowed down. Another bright firecracker exploded right above their heads, sending a shower of violet sparks raining down on them.
"Four," Harry finally whispered. "We thought there must be four left."
Minerva closed her eyes. Four Horcruxes left – and Harry had set himself the task to find and destroy them all by himself. No wonder the young man felt overworked.
"Who else knows about this?" she asked.
"Dumbledore said he'd told no one. I think there were some people he didn't trust, and some that he wanted to protect…" Harry replied pensively.
"But I think Snape must know part of it. I mean, he allegedly healed Dumbledore after he had destroyed the second Horcrux – and Slughorn hinted that he suspected something like that. I've told Ron and Hermione. And now you – " Harry pointed to the people sitting around him.
"Harry, you cannot possibly go after those Horcruxes alone," Lupin said decidedly. "We will help you, it is our job to do that."
"No."
Harry jerked his head up and shot an angry look at Lupin.
"Look, I've only allowed Ron and Hermione to come with me because they said I could not stop them following me. It was their decision, not mine. But I will not let anyone else come with me. It is too dangerous."
"You know, we might make the same decision," Tonks said dryly. "How would you stop us following you? Mate, you need help."
"Don't – " Harry sounded desperate. "Tonks, please don't come with me. I cannot take on that responsibility – Dumbledore has already died because of me…"
Harry broke off, looking slightly embarrassed. He stared down on the ground again, avoiding everyone's eyes. Ginny reached out for his arm and squeezed it lightly. This time, Harry did not stop her.
Minerva sighed. It was painful to see how the boy blamed himself for Albus's death – as if he was responsible instead of a certain former Potions Master.
"Harry," she started hoarsely, "It is not your fault. Albus was… my closest friend. I miss him terribly, but I would never, ever think you responsible for his death."
Minerva pressed her lips together again. She hated it when her voice sounded that emotional.
"But I am the reason," Harry whispered, his voice trembling. "It would not have happened if he had not tried to protect me first – Malfoy could never have disarmed him otherwise…"
"Draco Malfoy disarmed Dumbledore? Never!" Tonks said incredulously.
"I told you, it was only because he was preoccupied protecting me – "
Harry broke off again, by now definitely crying. Hermione slowly moved closer to him and knelt down on his left. She placed her hand on Harry's shoulder while exchanging a quick look with Ginny.
"It's alright, Harry, really it's alright… it's not your fault," she mumbled.
"No, it's not!" Harry shrugged her hand off with an angry move.
"I know it's not alright, it will never be, I dream of this moment every night and… Hermione, you were not there. You cannot tell, you cannot claim it's alright when you were not there…"
"Then tell us about it," Ginny insisted stubbornly. "Do tell us, explain the situation to us. Explain so that we can judge for ourselves and understand what happened."
Harry shook his head again. Hermione and Ginny exchanged another look, clearly desperate in their attempt to help Harry. Ron watched the whole scene uncomfortably.
"Harry," Lupin quietly spoke up, "I think in a way Ginny is right. Don't bottle everything up inside you. If you have nightmares, you need to speak of what caused them. You won't be able to go on otherwise."
"Mate, we're your friends," Ron added, sounding slightly hurt. "You can tell us, you know."
Harry raised his head again and looked at Ron while twisting his mouth into something that might pass for a bitter smile.
"Ron, it's not that I don't trust you. It's just that… it's bad enough to dream of this all the time. I just cannot speak about it. It's like I relive that moment constantly, and I just don't know how to express it."
Minerva had watched Harry the whole time, deeply touched by how much Dumbledore's death had affected the young man. Suddenly she became aware that Hermione was staring at her.
"Professor McGonagall…" Hermione knitted her brow.
"Yes, Miss Granger?"
"That Pensieve Professor Dumbledore had… is it still at Hogwarts?"
"Of course, it's still in the Headmaster's office…" Minerva replied reservedly, anticipating what Hermione was going to say.
"Do you think that Harry could use it to show us his memory of that night?"
Everyone fell silent for a second, then Ginny jumped up excitedly.
"Of course! Harry, you don't have to speak of it, you could just show us. That way we'd know what happened and could share your pain… please, say you'll do it, I so want to help you."
Minerva felt her heart beat faster. She did not like that idea, although she had to admit that it was an excellent solution for the problem.
It was obvious that Harry needed to share his haunting recollections in order to get over his emotional trauma, but she seriously doubted that Ron, Hermione and Ginny should watch this horrible memory. Maybe some of the members of the Order of the Phoenix should view it together with Harry, but those young people…
Minerva shook her head resolutely, willing another scared thought away. She herself was not too keen on witnessing Albus's death, in fact, she was horribly afraid of it.
The Headmistress looked back at Harry and saw him watching her with his strangely green eyes. She saw his pain, and his faint, desperate hope that one day the pain might get better. Minerva swallowed hard.
"If you want to, you are welcome to use the Pensieve, Mr Potter. But –"
"Show it to all of us," Lupin interrupted Minerva as if he had guessed her thoughts.
"Show it to those who want to protect you and help you, to the Order of the Phoenix. I don't think we should drag your friends into this."
"Most definitely not!" Molly Weasley's voice rang out. In their intense discussion, they had not noticed that Molly and Arthur had walked up to them.
"I cannot speak for Hermione, and I am afraid I cannot order Ron not to watch this memory with you – but Ginny is not of age. I will not allow her to share this memory."
"Mum!"
Ginny stared at her mother indignantly. Her outcry had sounded childish, but her expression proved that she was no mere girl any more. Ginny did not throw a tantrum, she simply looked at her mother with cold determination.
"Ginny, what kind of a mother would I be if I let you see something like this?" Molly asked helplessly.
"An understanding one," Ginny replied quietly.
"I think she is right, Molly," Arthur said after a long moment. "If she wants to help Harry, she will do it – better let us do this together."
Molly looked away and bit her lip thoughtfully. Then she turned to look at Minerva. The two women held each other's gaze for a few seconds. Minerva was tempted to use Legilimency on Molly, but decided it unfair to do so. Molly Weasley looked deeply concerned, and Minerva had the impression that it was not only Ginny that Molly worried about.
"Yes," Minerva finally said. "Let us try to help Harry. Let us view this memory together."
There was a long silence, only interrupted by the crackling sounds of a silver crossette firework exploding in the sky above them.
"Thank you," Harry then whispered.
Minerva once more closed her eyes and turned her head away from the others. She was going to witness the murder of her beloved.