A Great Lose To The Wizarding World

Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling

The castle of Hogwarts loomed over the horizon, shrouded in a veil of mourning. The flags fluttered at half-mast and the usually vibrant hues of the school were replaced by a somber palette of gray and black. It had been a year since the final battle, a year since the world had lost one of its greatest wizards, Albus Dumbledore. Now, they gathered once more, not to fight, but to bid farewell to another beloved community member. Professor Minerva McGonagall had passed away, leaving behind a legacy of wisdom, courage, and unwavering dedication to the students of Hogwarts.

The Order of the Phoenix, the former students who had fought alongside her, and the new generation of witches and wizards who she had taught, all returned to the school to pay their respects. The Great Hall was filled to the brim, the house tables replaced by rows of chairs that seemed to stretch on forever. The portraits along the walls were silent, their subjects with their heads bowed in respect. The floorboards creaked under the weight of the somber assembly as everyone took their seats, waiting for the memorial service to begin.

The Head Table was draped in velvet, with a single chair at its center, a poignant reminder of the empty space Professor McGonagall would leave in their lives. In the center of the Hall stood a grand, ornate casket, adorned with the Gryffindor lion and the Ravenclaw eagle, representing her dual heritage. A soft light from the enchanted ceiling cast an ethereal glow over the scene as if the stars themselves were weeping for her loss.

The doors to the Hall creaked open, and in a procession as solemn as a funeral march, the remaining members of the Order entered, followed by the teachers and staff of Hogwarts. Her eyes red from crying, Professor Sprout carried a bouquet of vibrant, magical flowers that seemed to shiver in the cool air. Madam Pomfrey followed, her face drawn with grief, her usual smile replaced by a tight line of sorrow. Professor Flitwick, so small beside the others, looked as though he might break under the weight of his emotions.

The students, both young and old, entered next, their expressions a blend of shock, sadness, and fear. They had endured so much loss in such a brief period, and now the one constant in their lives, the woman who had been a source of strength and guidance, was no longer with them. The atmosphere was heavy with unshed tears and the scent of incense, underscoring the weight of the moment.

Finally, the former students, now adults, made their way in. Harry Potter, his green eyes reflecting a pain that had lingered, walked alongside his friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. They held their heads high, but their hearts were burdened. They took their places in the front row, joined by Neville Longbottom, Ginny Weasley, and Luna Lovegood. The connection among them was tangible, a silent acknowledgment of the battles they had faced together and the lessons imparted by Professor McGonagall.

The memorial commenced with a eulogy delivered by Professor Dumbledore's portrait. His voice, though it resonated from the enchanted frame, carried the warmth and depth of the man they had once known. "Minerva McGonagall," he began, "was more than just a teacher. She was a guardian, a mentor, and a friend to many. Her bravery and wisdom were only matched by her compassion and her unwavering belief in the goodness of her students."

One by one, the portraits of former headmasters and headmistresses spoke, recounting tales of her courage and wit, her remarkable ability to inspire her pupils, and her steadfastness in the face of challenges. The audience listened closely, some smiling at fond memories, while others wept openly at the thought of a world without her firm yet nurturing presence.

Then it was the students' turn, their voices quivering as they recounted their personal experiences with the woman who had profoundly influenced their lives. The younger ones spoke of her strict yet fair guidance, while the older ones reminisced about her fierce loyalty and the comfort she had offered during the darkest days of the war.

"Professor McGonagall was the first person to believe in me," said a young Gryffindor, her voice barely a whisper. "She saw something in me that I didn't even know was there."

"She taught me that it's okay to be scared," a Hufflepuff said, his eyes glistening with tears. "But what we do when we're scared is what truly defines us."

"Professor," a Ravenclaw spoke up, her voice strong and clear, "you showed me that intelligence isn't about being the best at everything, but knowing when to ask for help and how to use what you know to improve the world."

And so, the tributes continued, each one more heartfelt than the last, painting a vivid picture of a woman who had impacted countless lives.

As the final words of remembrance were spoken, the casket began to rise into the air. It glided toward the open doors, which parted to reveal the Hogwarts grounds, now bathed in moonlight. The whispers of the crowd fell silent as the casket ascended, eventually vanishing into the night sky. The stars seemed to shine brighter in her wake as if welcoming her to her final resting place among the great wizards and witches who had come before her.

The Great Hall remained still, the only sound being the soft sniffling of those in mourning. Then, as if on cue, the portrait of Professor McGonagall appeared beside Dumbledore's. She gazed out at the assembly, her expression a blend of pride and sorrow.

"Thank you," she said, her voice clear and steady, though filled with emotion. "I have watched over you all, and I am so proud of the witches and wizards you have become. Remember, it is our choices that reveal who we truly are, far more than our abilities. And in the end, it is our love for one another that will be the most powerful magic of all."

With a final nod, her portrait fell still. The hall remained silent for a moment longer before the crowd began to disperse, each person leaving with a heavy heart and a renewed sense of purpose.

The days that followed were filled with quiet reflection and shared moments of comfort. The students returned to their classes, the teachers to their duties, but the memory of Professor McGonagall lingered with them all. Her spirit remained in the corridors she had once patrolled, in the classrooms where she had taught, and in the hearts of those she had inspired.

The world mourned the loss of a remarkable woman, yet her legacy continued to thrive within the cherished walls of Hogwarts, in the lives she influenced, and in the wisdom she shared. Although she was no longer present, the enchantment she infused into the school would remain everlasting. Ultimately, it was not merely the structures that defined Hogwarts as a home, but the individuals who filled them. Professor Minerva McGonagall will forever hold a special place in their hearts.

The End. RIP Maggie Smith