Dumbledore
Professor McGonagall found herself standing before the gilded frame that held the portrait of Albus Dumbledore. The former headmaster's painted visage looked just as serene and wise as ever, his eyes twinkling with that familiar hint of amusement. The office of the headmaster had been meticulously restored, and Dumbledore's portrait had been returned to its rightful place.
"Good morning, Albus," McGonagall greeted the painting, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her heart.
"Good morning, Minerva," replied Dumbledore with a warm smile. "How may I assist you today?"
McGonagall took a deep breath, steeling herself for the words she was about to utter. "I come to you with a matter of great importance, Albus. Last night, Sybill Trelawney made a prophecy in front of the staff."
Dumbledore's eyes bore into hers, a flicker of interest in his painted gaze. "A prophecy, you say? Pray, tell me what it entailed."
McGonagall repeated the words of the prophecy, her voice steady but her heart heavy. When she finished, Dumbledore's expression grew solemn.
"A new peril," he mused, his eyes distant as he contemplated the words. "And a choice to be made."
"Yes," McGonagall nodded. "It is troubling, Albus. Voldemort is gone, and we thought the worst was behind us. But Sybill's visions have been strangely accurate in the past, and we cannot dismiss this lightly."
Dumbledore's portrait nodded in agreement. "Indeed, we cannot afford to be complacent. Prophecies have a way of weaving themselves into the tapestry of our lives, often when we least expect it."
"What should we do, Albus?" McGonagall asked, her voice tinged with concern. "Should we inform Harry Potter? He deserves to know."
Dumbledore's portrait considered for a moment before responding, "Not just yet, Minerva. We must gather more information first. I believe it would be prudent to consult with others who are knowledgeable about prophecies and the dark arts. The Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic can provide insight."
McGonagall nodded, her trust in Dumbledore's wisdom unwavering even in his painted form. "Very well, Albus. I shall make the necessary inquiries and gather a small group of trusted individuals to investigate."
Dumbledore's portrait smiled at her, his eyes twinkling once more. "Thank you, Minerva. Your steadfastness and determination have always been a beacon of hope in these trying times. Together, we shall face whatever challenges lie ahead."
With that, Professor McGonagall left Dumbledore's office, her mind racing with thoughts of what the future might hold. The echoes of the prophecy hung in the air, a reminder that the wizarding world, though scarred, was far from finished with its journey of courage and resilience.