Prompt for @hpwritersnet: Minerva Mcgonagall

Minerva Mcgonagall was nervous.

She didn’t show it, of course, keeping her spine straight and her expression neutral. Her father, a pastor, had taught her at least that much: when you’re a flurry of emotions, keep the storm inside until later, and let your best face show. Minerva didn’t know how well this had worked for her father, seeing as she hadn’t attended church for some odd ten years out of her eleven.  But it seemed sound advice. So she kept the nervousness inside her as she listened to the giggles and whispers of her Hogwarts class. More than a few had made quite a few friends on the train and were eager to share their thoughts and fears for the sorting ahead with their peers.

But Minerva, or Minnie, as she liked to be called, had only made a single friend on the train ride–if he could even be called that. He had already gone up at the sound of his name (which was rather whimsical, Minerva thought, though her own name had caused quite the stir up in Scotland). A tattered hat had been perched atop his head for five long minutes before it roared a hearty “Ravenclaw!” and sent him to his appropriate table. She was happy for him; Filius Flitwick hadn’t wanted much, but he had wanted blue and bronze for house colors.

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fienfyre:

It’s the nights she saw the tightness of Remus’ face and the trembling of his hands, an eternal reminder of his monthly torture, sorrow and pain carved in the premature lines of his skin, that McGonagall shivered.

It’s the nights she recalled the emptiness in Sirius’ eyes as he was taken away to Azkaban, a haggard, destroyed look that never disappeared even as he prowled the halls of the Black mansion, that McGonagall stumbled.

It’s the nights she visited Alice and Frank, met by their blank smiles and absent minds, their bodies forever haunted by excruciating dolor, and was gently offered the crinkled paper of sweets, that McGonagall hurt.

It’s the nights she remembered Lily and James’ broken bodies, cast in desperation in front of the one person they would always protect, their love torn apart and yet still so present in the quiet darkness of the house, that McGonagall cried. 

She wanted to grab Dumbledore and shake him and yell. They were twenty, she wanted to scream. They were so young. They deserved to live. What was the point of fighting against evil if this was the price to pay?

Because the memories still came so easily, of James’ charming smiles and Sirius’ rebellious grins as they brilliantly broke another rule. Of Remus’ soft sweaters and dark chocolate as he scolded them fondly, and of a boy and a girl walking hand in hand like nothing else in the world existed. The beautiful youth was gone and yet she remained, fighting in remembrance of something that had already disappeared.

It’s those nights that McGonagall doubted.

But it’s the night she saw the limp body of Harry Potter in Hagrid’s arms that McGonagall broke.

written for the @hpwritersnet prompt of the week: mcgonagall

asherthealmighty:

coffeeinanebula:

sobforsirius:

the well known Harry Potter cycle

Step 1: thinking Snape is a bad guy

Step 2: thinking Snape is a good guy

Step 3: realising as you mature as a person that Snape was actually a terrible person after all and was an abusive bully who didn’t grown out of this stage even into his late 30s and an obsessive person who thought he was entitled to Lily just because she showed him friendship and no matter how many bias memories of his you are shown you will never see him in any different way 

unfortunately some people are still stuck in stage 2

Step 4: Realizing Dumbledore was manipulative and abusive as well and not the infallible person everyone believed him to be.

Step 5: Discovering that the only person as golden as their reputation portrayed and knew what the fuck was going on was Minerva McGonagall and she was amazing.

dontkillbirds:

Headcanon: Professor McGonagall has a muggle wife she never mentions to the students, because they never ask.

Four years after Harry’s left Hogwarts he visits McGonagall’s home to talk her out of retirement, and the door is opened by a woman he doesn’t recognise. Confused, he introduces himself and asks to see McGonagall. The woman recognises the name and invites him in, saying Minerva will be home soon. She then talks a mile a minute, but not about the war - about the stories she’s heard about the golden trio from their head of house. About how Harry stood up to Umbridge, and how clever Hermione was, and how Ron had been able to beat her chess game, and how PROUD Minerva was of them all.

By the time McGonagall does arrive, Harry and her wife are chatting like old friends. Minvera’s wife calls her things like “Darling” and “Pumpkin.” Harry cannot believe his ears.

Harry is invited to tea every Wednesday from then on. He always looks forward to it.