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Minerva appeared in the open doorway of the Headmaster’s office, her expression inscrutable. Albus could usually tell what she was thinking, or at least have an idea of what was going on behind that familiar face, which had been artificially kept at age 70 for the last 15 years, though she looked older today.
But this time he just couldn’t tell. She was certainly angry at him, their last conversation had proved that. The words “No. No. This argument is over, I can’t do this anymore, I can’t even stand the sight of you” still reverberated around his head followed by the sound of a slamming door. It wasn’t the first time they had almost come to blows, she almost hexed him every other week or so, but it had felt…different this time.
When she came no further into the room but stood with one hand on the doorframe and that impenetrable look in her eyes, Albus realised he would have to speak first. “Aren’t you coming in, Professor McGonagall?” He finally asked, looking squarely at her for the first time, though she refused to meet his gaze.
“I…” She hesitated and sighed heavily and Albus suddenly felt the gravity of this situation. Whatever she had to say it was not going to be pleasant, but it was significant.
Albus dropped the formality that he usually kept up just after one of their many many arguments, “Minerva, what’s happened?”
“What’s happened?” Minerva answered in the form of a question, grief suffusing her words. Too many things had happened in the last few months. Finally, plucking up her famous Gryffindor Courage and entering the room properly she crossed the room to his desk, taking note of his worried expression, and went on anyway. “Albus, I can’t go on like this.”
“Yes, you’re right, we can’t keep doing this,” Albus muttered in agreement using the two words he knew she loved to hear -“You’re right.”
The apology was much earlier than he expected it to come, but it was within the usual stages of their arguing. First the quiet disagreement, then the outbursts, and the slamming of doors, and the ignoring, and the silent glaring, and the tense but necessary working together - and then the apologies, and then the forgiveness that never seemed to fully forget. He had anticipated at least a week that they would be in icy territory, despite the spring weather, so less than two days was surprising.
Not nearly as surprising as what she said next.
“No. You don’t understand what I’m saying. I can’t do this anymore.” She looked at him and he could suddenly see the heartbreak in her eyes.
Before she could go on he cut in asking, “What are you saying, Minerva? I know you don’t mean…” He couldn’t even finish that sentence.
So she did, “Leaving Hogwarts. That’s exactly what I mean, Albus. I wrote the resignation letter last week. I didn’t give it to you then because… well I don’t know really, some kind of leftover hope, I suppose.” She sighed shortly and shook her head. She added, sarcastically, “But as my mother, ever the optimist, once told me - hope is a tease, designed to keep us from accepting reality.”
“You can’t possibly mean this, Minerva. I know you don’t,” Albus refused, stubbornly.
“There it is now. Hope teasing you away from the reality of this.” The letter drifted from her hand to his desk by a gentle breeze she’d conjured up and landed gently atop the letter he was writing to the Minister. “I’ll finish the year, of course.”
A single page, nothing more than a few professional words of parting.
Headmaster Dumbledore and the Board of Governors,
As of the ending of this 1982 school term, I am ending my career at Hogwarts. I do so with a heavy heart and after much deliberation.
I am no longer suited to the life and pace at Hogwarts school, nor am I likely to be so again. The changes I have witnessed in the staffing and upkeep of this esteemed institution have not been promising, nor has the budget been adequate for the needs of the students and staff.
Although my work at this school has been my greatest pride and most fulfilling satisfaction, I am obligated to end my career to attend to matters of familial importance. For these reasons, I submit my resignation from my posts as Deputy Headteacher, Professor of Transfiguration, and Head of Gryffindor House.
I wish nothing but the very best for Hogwarts School.
Sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall.
Albus looked up from the words on the page with a quizzical look in his eyes. “Matters of Familial importance?”
Minerva was as sure as she had ever been about anything before. She tried to take a lighter tone with her colleague and friend, “Think about it Albus, you’re a clever enough man, you’ll figure it out.”
Albus’s tone changed, and the look in his ice-blue eyes turned cold. “So this is about Harry Potter.”
“Yes. It’s about Harry,” Minerva said, not letting his cold stare bore into her heart. “You told me that I would never be able to care for Harry and for this school. Implicit there was the fact that I would have to choose which would be the primary responsibility of my life. One child, born of two of the dearest people I have known, orphaned before he would be able to remember them, who needs a competent, caring, and reliable guardian - or a school full of children who have several others to take care of them. I made my choice.”
“He’s already placed with his aunt and uncle, and it is there he must remain. There is ancient Magic at work here Minerva. It isn’t something that we choose to make work. Lily gave her life for his, and his aunt is the carrier of that magic now, blood magic,” Albus reasoned, almost pleadingly.
“No. Albus it’s not blood magic, it’s love magic. Sirius clearly doesn’t have it, Peter can’t have it, Remus might, I might, but her sister does not. Magic travels where love goes, Albus. Those two things are inextricably linked and there is no love for him in that household.” Albus attempted to intervene here in Minerva’s reasoning, they had always had differing scholarly opinions on this matter and he was prepared to go through the whole argument again if it might, in any way, convince her not to go.
Minerva did not let him get a word in edgewise, “EVEN IF your theory of Magical inheritance was right, and I and more than half of the scholarly wix population argue that it is not, he will be infinitely safer with me than he could ever be in a household full of people who would neglect, or at worst, actively harm him.” She paused for a moment, taking a breath and gathering herself before continuing in a quiet, intense, sharp voice, “And God and Merlin so help you if I should find that you have left him for months in a household that actively harms him, Albus. You will no longer be a revered scholar because you will be in the Janus Thickney Ward at St. Mungo’s suffering from Magically Induced Permanent Brain Damage.”
“Might I counter that the other half of the scholarly wix population disagrees with you, Minerva. There is evidence that links magic as an inheritance through blood. You cannot prove connections of love…” He did not get the chance to finish that statement.
“It was love that saved Harry Potter. James never bled for him and didn’t stand there to face death because Harry was his only genetic relation. Lily didn’t give her life for him because he was her only son and shared her blood; she gave up her life as an act of love. The intention behind the magic is what matters.” Minerva was beginning to lose control of her emotions, and tears gathered behind her square spectacles.
“And do you think that you would do the same?” Albus asked a simple question, but he had expected her to at least struggle with it for a moment.
“Yes, if it came to that I think I would,” Minerva answered without hesitation before going on with an increasing urgency, “And he isn’t the only person I’d lay down my life for, and you know that. I would have stepped in front of James Potter. I would have died before allowing him to get to Lily. If I could I would have shielded Frank and Alice Longbottom. I would do the same for their little boy- Neville. Peter would never have confronted Sirius alone if I had known. Remus, I have already put my life on the line for. Before - when Sirius was just another young man in need of someone to care, I would without hesitation. Gideon and Fabian Prewett. Molly and Arthur Weasley. Their children. Andromeda Tonks. Septimia Vector. Poppy Pomfrey. Filius Flitwick. Pomona Sprout. You, yourself, for Merlin’s sake. Any Student of Hogwarts School. I am not very selective about who I would kill or die for, Albus,” Minerva said, sighing as if it were something he should already know full well.
“And those students and colleagues, where will they be without you?” Albus said, in desperation. Minerva had threatened to leave her post more than once before, but mostly as a way of forcing the board to reallocate the budget to her specifications or repeal certain illogical rules. Now, he feared she was not bluffing.
Minerva took a deep breath before she answered his question with one of her own, “What will you do without me?” She shook her head and turned away from him, putting a few steps between them before she said, “That’s the real question, isn’t it Albus?”
“Yes. If that’s the question you want me to ask - Where will I be without you?”
“Yes that’s the question,” Minerva replied, sounding pensive, “As I see it you have two options,” She turned back around sharply on her heel to look at him. “You can either step up and do your damn job and quit letting the rest of the world take precedence over the school and the lives you actually hold sway over, or you can let the whole place fall apart. As I wrote in the letter, I wish nothing but the very best for Hogwarts school, I regret that I cannot be that anymore, and I certainly hope that you and the rest of the staff can start taking a keener interest in what it takes to run this place outside of teaching classes,” She said coldly, turning back toward the door.
“So this is punishment, is it?” Albus asked, equally cold. Standing up from behind his desk his voice almost reached a shout. “You volunteered to take on more work than you could really handle out of an ever present overabundance of unearned self-confidence and because we didn’t stop you you’ll leave it all to us without even a year's notice.” He knew this was going to be a fight, and he should have kept his peace, but enough is enough.
“No, Albus,” Minerva argued, spinning around so quickly that it might have thrown anyone else off balance. She glared directly into his soul in that way that only she can and said “I picked up the slack to keep the place from falling down around our ears. And it, while occasionally trying, has never been too much for me to accomplish, simply because I am damn good at this. More work than I want, yes, but never more work than I could do. I’ve earned my so-called overabundance of Self-confidence with decades of working more efficiently, more patiently, more effectively, and more consistently than anyone else in the damn building and possibly more than anyone else in the wizarding world.” She turned away again, seeing Albus suitably shut up.
But she wasn’t really done yet, there was one point left unaddressed. Her voice was cool and collected as she said, “As for a year’s notice, I think you will recall that my Godson was orphaned in October. I don’t have a year to give, Albus, and I think you know that I have given you more than I ever should have already. Good Afternoon.” And with that, she crossed the room and disappeared through his office door again. Any regret she had for the situation, or any grief she felt at ending her career, which had shown in her troubled expression when she appeared at his door was gone before she went out again.
Albus sank down in his chair, no longer concerned with the papers piled on the desk before him. He sat staring at the door she had not slammed shut as it finally clicked into place. She was really done this time. He sighed heavily and shook his head, this was a loss he was not sure they would recover from.
The portrait of Headmaster Dippett, after a few moments of pensive silence, sighed and said, “There goes the greatest Headmistress that never was,”
The portrait of Headmistress Worthington corrected him, “The greatest Head Teacher who never was, you mean.”
Dippett just made some small noise of agreement.