Chapter 3: Two empty chairs.
Minerva McGonagall was not afraid of many things. Only a few times in her life could she remember being afraid. The first memory she had of being afraid was when she was fifteen years old dangling from a broom after a buldger had knocked her off and she was trying to get back on. A buldger had struck the back of her head and everything went dark. The second instance was afraid was when in 1943 when the chamber of secrets was opened. Those were the only times she was truly afraid.
Now she was more afraid than she had ever been before. More afraid than being fifteen and falling off her broom. More than when the chamber of secrets had been opened. Her coworkers, her colleagues, her friends were being hunted down. She was afraid every knock on her door was someone coming to tell her that another one of friends had been attacked. The feeling that had gone through her when she held Hooch's broken body was lingering and she couldn't shake it nor could she put a finger on what the feeling was. Whoever was doing this wanted her friends to hurt and she couldn't bare thinking about it.
These thoughts had bounced around her head while she was on her way to the medical ward. She was pulled out of them when Flitwick caught up to her.
"Hello Minerva." He says. "Do you have a minute?'
She follows him to his classroom where Hooch's broom was in two pieces on his work station.
"Hagrid found it on the pitch." Was all he could get out.
They both knew the broom meant a great deal to the flying instructor. She had gotten it after her first championship quidditch game. It was her favorite thing in the world. She could spend hours out on her broom just soaring through the air going to a different place just enjoying the wind in her face. She would be out on her broom rain or shine going into her special place. Even after the times she would fall off and sometimes injure herself she would be eager to get back on.
Now those days of just her and her broom were over. The broom had been magically broken and the thought of repair was pretty much out of the question.
McGonagall looked at the broom pieces in front of her a good long time before saying.
"Hold onto it for right now. Let her get better before telling her."
The two professors quietly go to the great hall where the rest of their coworkers were waiting. Two empty chairs sat at the table. One on the right of Pomfrey where Hooch normally sat and shared stories with the rest of the group. Her favorite person to tell stories to was the woman next to her. It was no secret that the flying instructor was the mediwitch's best friend. Right then the mediwitch was staring at her plate longing to hear a quidditch story from the enthusiastic flying instructor. Instead her best friend was laying in pain in a bed at St Mungo's.
The other empty chair was to the left of Dumbledore. Its normal occupant a potion master. Normally Snape didn't talk as much as his coworkers but he was brilliant. He would constantly be creating new potions or spells. He didn't mind not talking he was content with just listening. Now he was the hospital ward unconscious on a bed.
The meal was quiet. No one knew what to say. Everyone just stared at their plates of food. With a sigh McGonagall turns to Trelawny who was shaking.
"Sybil, Are you alright?" She asks the seer
Before she could answer a cloud of black smoke rushed into the room and started reeking havoc on everything and everyone.
McGonagall pulls her wand but couldn't see anything. The screams of her friends pounded against her eardrums. She couldn't remember being so scared in her life. Her heart pounded in her ears as spells started to fly. Beams of light were seen in the smoke as the screaming continued. She didn't remember when she started throwing spells she just remembered the smoke blinding her.
Then the screaming stopped. The smoke cleared away. McGonagall's heart broke at the sight of it. Furniture was broken and everywhere. Her coworkers were on the ground. Some standing up and dusting off.
A blood curdling scream echoed from a corner of the room.
"No! Wake up! Wake up!"
Flitwick was on his knees by Sprout who was covered in blood. She was in bad shape. Blood coated her dirty greenhouse robes and was pouring out of her chest. Engraved into her skin read.
Authority.
"No, you can't die!" He yells. "Poppy!"
The mediwitch kneels beside the fallen professor and got to work.
"Don't you die on me." He whsipers to her.
He takes her hand.
"I love you."
