Chapter Text
Chapter One: Pieces of Time
~O~
War was ugly. It’s not something you see every day. I tried to be present in any way that I could, but I couldn’t be everywhere at once. I wasn’t Dumbledore. He had an uncanny sense of handling situations that required a steady keen eye. We all get tied up sometimes, but Dumbledore never once stepped back from responsibility. No matter how far you go, war has a way of bringing people close together. Whether you wanted it or not. My heart constricted. The loss was insurmountable; it’s not something you get used to. It leaves scars on everyone. Some were unseen; others wore physical wounds.
In the great hall, I had passed a dozen families who had either lost something in the war or were carrying a burden that was too large for them to fit inside. At a personal cost to them, the damage was already done. Words could only do so much. There was no point crying over spilled milk.
My face tightened as my gaze drifted to the window. A fiery ball of orange looked fit to burst. It stubbornly shifted the light, trying to rise up. Dawn was beginning to creep into the clouds. Rays of peachy lines zigzagged across the floor. Broken shards of cement and rock scattered like marbles. It blew paper fumes everywhere.
The walls were crumpled, ink pots, bits of parchment circulated around the room in a disarray. Even Dumbledore’s magical pensieve was gaping open, the stone basin crooked as if someone was in a rush to make sense of what remained of the memories that were stored last. I had a strange feeling as if remnants of Dumbledore’s ghost still existed in the quiet space I occupied.
I shook my head. Never in my time at Hogwarts did I ever presume this would happen to me. That I would be at a precipitous of no return. That my tenure was already on a countdown. Any wrong move would put me at a disadvantage.
Damp moist coated my skin, clouds of dust dispersed through the air and a lingering taste of sandpaper dried on my tongue. A thin film spread into the room. I scraped my chair back and stood up.
My legs were like lead as I swept past the wooden desk and caught the edge of the bird cage in a clenched fist. The cage itself was still hot from the Phoenix’s touch as if leaving a handprint to mark his territory. As my hands brushed the cold metal, my throat closed, once I was reminded of his absence which will no longer brighten this office again with a binding hope.
A throat was cleared, which slowly brought me out of my reverie. I turned and immediately pressed my lips together as Phineas Nigellus pointedly glowered at me as if he was trying to get my attention for quite some time.
I straightened, struggling not to curse and raised my eyebrow. ‘What is it Phineas? Is something troubling you?’
He rumpled his feather green hat and puffed out his chest arguably testier than the situation required. ‘Not that it is any concern of yours but as a matter of fact, yes.’
I pursed my lips further, rather furiously. ‘Go on, then.’
‘I’d like to return to the House of Black,’ he said, flicking the collar of his shirt. ‘I have some unfinished business.’ By the end, his nose scrunched up as though he smelt something unpleasant.
‘Very well,’ I replied, shrugging. ‘Don’t let me stop you.’
Without a word, he disappeared from his portrait, leaving behind a blank canvas.
I slipped back down behind the desk and took a deep breath.
I still couldn’t quite believe, all of this was officially mine. Not so long ago, Albus was sitting in this very seat, browsing a magazine and while chewing lemon drops out of a jar. Fawkes was in the corner, snorting puffs of smoke and flapping his magnificent wings with sprinkles of glitter dusting off his feathers and falling to the ground. It shined in crystalline sunshine, casting gleams on every shadow.
Now, the room felt empty without his warmth.
It was miraculous how the silver instruments that continued to whir softly, remained unscathed. Unperturbed, as though they were the only anchor that stopped the office from being unfamiliar. As though walking through smoke, the images blurred together.
‘Minerva, you did the right thing.’ Albus’s hand gripped me by the shoulder, tightly. ‘It takes a great deal of courage to walk away than to commit to a lifetime of guilt and shame.’
My eyes stung from the flow of tears. I wiped my nose with the cloth he handed to me when I first broke down in the transfiguration classroom after class. My face was hot with remorse. ‘I wouldn’t have been happy if I stayed. I would’ve been constantly looking over my shoulder waiting for the next shoe to drop. Which would not have helped either of us.’
‘I know,’ Dumbledore said quietly. ‘I know. Love has a way of giving clarity when sense is not enough.’
I sniffed loudly, not saying a word. Silence permeated the empty classroom. Darkness gathered on the clouds letting in very little light. The windowpane frosted from the cold and the grass was dewy with the beginnings of rain.
I strained to hold back the last vestiges of my tears as I shuffled off the desk and sank my shoes onto the floor. It was a while before I glanced up. ‘Thank you, Professor Dumbledore. You’ve been most kind.’
He smiled warmly, pale blue eyes piercing me with a gentle twinkle. His half-moon spectacles emanating heat. It embraced me like a comforting blanket. ‘I often find myself that sweets could cure any broken heart, if one added a touch of flavour.’
He popped a sherbet lemon into his mouth and offered me one.
I hesitated at first, before gingerly swallowing the offered sweet.
A screeching tap dissolved the memory and pulled me back to the office. An owl rapped its beak against the glass and diverted my attention. An ear-splitting hooting sound reached my ears.
I propped open the large window behind the desk, just above the portraits to let it in. A chilling breeze raised the hairs on my arms. It ruffled its feathers and poked me in the arm.
‘Alright, alright.’
There were some silver sickles and a couple of bronze nuts half hidden beneath piles of books on top the claw-footed desk. I pulled five out of the bundle and handed it to the owl.
The owl hooted once, dropped the sealed envelope in my hand and flew out the window. I took the envelope to the desk and sat down unsealing the paper. The Ministry seal was in print declaring Kingsley Shacklebolt Minister for Magic and handing him temporary control of the Ministry of Magic. It couldn’t have been passed down to a better person than Kingsley, whose’s friendship has been a welcome reprieve from the constant pressure added to the role of being headmistress of this school. I could rest easy, knowing the Ministry will be safe with him at the mantle. I carefully folded back the letter and set it aside.
Life was full of unexpected twists, as a general rule, I like to be kept in the loop, but when that fails it has a way of nipping you in the bud. I expect a ransom will be coming for me sometime soon. A flicker of a smile lifted a corner of my lips, there and gone in the next breath. After all the community has been through, changes are paramount.
Soot and tar made my nose twitch. Thankfully, the stench was mild compared to the mould blanketing the corners of the office. The wall in front had taken a great hit and a chunk dangling from off the wall thudded to the ground. Usually, the grate is filled with plenty of logs to keep the chill at bay but as of late, it was free of warmth. It warped my memories of enclosed spaces, where the fire was always left steaming hot and you could snuggle in a chair with a cup of mint tea, not a care in the world. As luck would have it, just then, a sliver of sunlight bathed the room with a mellow yellow light.
A gentle hum of voices from down below, sifted through the door. Though barely audible, as the splintered wood was motley, with thick powdered particles muffling the words. My robes rustled as I shifted in my chair, which dug into my back roughly keeping me awake. It wasn’t long that I was jerked from the lull in quiet to breathless panting.
‘Professor McGonagall! Professor!’
Not only did he disrupt my solitary time, but it sufficiently brought the portraits alive. Having been disturbed from their catnip they were now exploding.
‘Some of us need our beauty sleep, just because you’re ordinary. That doesn’t mean—-’
‘Explain yourself man, some of us are trying to sleep—-’
‘What’s all the fuss about, you overinflated bafoon! —-’
‘Do you mind opening that big fat gob of yours rather than puffing like a large hippopotamus—’
I held up a hand for silence. ‘That’s more than enough.’
Majority of the room quietened, but they were a select few portraits that couldn’t hide their displeasure and rolled their eyes. Others had grown their heads much like a balloon. One portrait put their nose in the air snootily, mostly innocuous. I ignored them and focused on the poor man that made such an effort to report back to me.
‘What’s the matter, Everard?’
A gloating smile surfaced on his face. ‘Pardon my intrusion but if you’d witnessed the catastrophe in the great hall, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself either.’
‘Stop pandering around,’ I said tersely. ‘And explain yourself.’
Gulping back a breath, he immediately seized his baiting. ‘Rita Skeeter tried to provoke Aberforth into admitting—-.’
‘She always seemed a bit hair-brained to me.’ The woman in the portrait was clearly unable to put a pin in it as she flipped a stray curl from her face and folded her hands on her knees. Pouting she said, ‘I bet she harbours an ill fated—.’
‘Acantha,’ I said sharply. ‘Hold your tongue.’
She snapped her mouth closed, turned and started fanning her face.
—the fraudulent relationship his family had, not to mention his father’s name. Which quite frankly tipped him over the edge.’ His brows furrowed. ‘I don’t blame him. That woman is coarse.’
Silence echoed. Not one breath was left uttered.
For a moment time stood still.
My heart staggered and stopped. ‘Then what happened?’
He lifted his shoulders and spread his arms filling the portrait. ‘What was bound to happen. She instigated the whole thing, though, you should know the plan backfired on her. The new Minister stopped the duel before it could take shape.’
My breath left me and releasing me from its hold. ‘I see. All well then. Nothing to worry about.’ I replied.
He nodded firmly. ‘You can rest easy. Nothing came of it.’
‘Thank you, Everard.’
The room settled once more into serendipity.
I reclaimed the chair only to replace the fracture with practised ease. That vile woman, Rita Skeeter was getting out of hand and something needed to be done about it. For now, it was handled but the same couldn’t be said for the future. To think I could perhaps settle for less, but the world thought differently. It didn’t differentiate between time. I sighed. I didn’t believe in fate, nor would I deny my scepticism in that regard. I pride myself on my abilities and I don’t choose to define myself on chance. Those that barter with themselves are foolish, instead of accepting responsibility for their own choices they blame destiny. As if they are not capable of control. I trust Kingsley’s judgment, but I will foresee any future encounters and make sure it doesn’t happen again. Not if I can help it.
Ironically, as if by chance, my hand knocked the small glass jar on the desk. It rolled to a stop in front of me. Not a moment ago, it was sitting still, empty. A whiff of lemon tickled my nose, as though Dumbledore had simply forgot to fill it up. Although it was ordinary, it held so many memories. Like I was in a trance, I slowly lifted the jar and brought it to my nose and sniffed, closing my eyes. Time slipped like pieces of the past.
‘Dumbledore it’s hardly adequate, the boy cannot fly unaided.’ I said scowling. I hurried to catch up with his long strides. It’s no wonder anyone can get a word in. For someone at this age, would be bound by worldly ailments that seemed to have skipped over him. ‘Honestly, sometimes your expectations can be very obtuse.’
‘My dear, Professor, you underestimate his potential,’ he glanced back smiling. His blue eyes twinkling like they always did like there was some joke the rest of us were missing.
We stopped at the stone gargoyle; pale silvery light filtered through the arched glass windows. A faint chill crept up my arm as it seeped through the stone walls and corridor, despite the blazing heat emerging from the large scones on the walls. Once we faced each other, I glimpsed the flames dancing in Dumbledore’s eyes reflected in his half-moon spectacles. It gave me pause for a second.
He crossed his arms over his stomach and looked down at me with warm eyes. ‘Is there anything else you’d like to share with me, Professor McGonagall?’
‘How do you know Albus, that the faith you have in the boy, won’t just fail,’ I said quietly. My mouth was hard.
He didn’t immediately answer, he scrutinised me for a long time, before replying almost to himself. ‘Sometimes, the burdens we bear leave no room for doubt. We must move with the times, or else time will leave us behind.’
Silence rooted me in place, as I absorbed his words. I never understood how Dumbledore came up with these words. They always seemed to leave me flustered. I blinked as his voice echoed in my head.
‘Minerva, I expect you’ll be leaving for your class soon.’ He glanced down at the odd watch on his wrist. Shining golden in the thin light.
I nodded absently.
‘Minerva.’
Why did the voice sound so familiar? As though the memory hadn’t fully left me. Though my body was here, my mind stayed stuck in the past.
‘Minerva?’
I jumped and dropped the jar that was in my hand, it landed on the desk clanging. I darted my gaze around the room wondering where the voice was coming from. It wasn’t long until a heavy gaze bored into my back. I turned.
‘Albus?’ I clutched a hand to my chest. ‘My goodness, you startled me.’
His gaze penetrated through me with so much intensity that I had trouble looking away. ‘May I as to enquire what’s troubling you, Minerva.’
Though he wasn’t alive, his presence had a way of filling the room. I didn’t know where to begin, so I let the silence linger. I often see myself in this position and wonder if I made the right choice. With the added burden, it was fitting that I would be speaking to the person that would lead me to my ultimate decision. He’s never failed me before.
I took a cautious breath. ‘Does it ever get easier?’ I asked.
‘Not at all, I expect it will be much harder going forth. But that is neither here nor there,’ he said calmly. His hands steepled under his chin shifting his long silver white beard in the process. The movement momentarily redirected my attention, so much so that when his lips moved, I wasn’t quite following. I nearly lost the end of his speech. ‘The question you should be asking yourself Minerva, is what are you going to do next?’
‘What I’ve always done, find the solution that is least hazardous for my health,’ I said tartly.
Dumbledore chuckled. ‘I expect nothing less from you, Professor McGonagall. You have nothing to fear. I have complete faith in you.’ He smiled sincerely.
‘Very well, I hope you’re faith is not misplaced Albus.’ My face twisted into a frown.
‘If you have in any doubt, my dear, follow the stars.’ His cheeks crinkled as his eyes sparkled with mischief.
‘Follow…the stars- what, Albus!’ I crossed my arms over my chest and shot him a sharp look. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve been reading one of those crystal balls have you.’
His eyes brightened further, encompassing his half-moon spectacles. ‘All those that she gifted to me. Though, only in practice.’
For a moment, I cracked a small smile. ‘Nothing will be the same without you.’
He looked down his crooked nose at me and said softly. ‘For what it’s worth, Minerva. I couldn’t find no one finer than you.’
The sunlight lifted the gloom in the office and strips of white light cast a glistening sheen. It caught the tipped jar in a glow. Floral scents of freesia and magnolia breathed air into the room. For the first time, I thought this could work. Although the portraits didn’t interrupt, a few of them had one eye open, the rest were either snoring or openly staring, curiosity getting the better of them. If only it could last. There was a quiet knock at the door.
‘Come in,’ I said.
His tangled beard popped in first before his huge frame blocked the doorway. A trickling of delicate laughter and low tender voices, slowly rose into the room. It was a welcome change to the quiet.
The figure stood rigidly, he played with his hands, gaze lowered before he took a deep breath and looked up. ‘Is there anythin’ you need, Professor McGonagall?’
I smiled mildly. ‘Take a seat Hagrid.’ I gestured to the chair opposite me.
Hagrid hesitated at first, then smiled, pulled the chair out and sat down.
‘Would you like some tea?’
He nodded shyly. ‘Sure, if you’re havin’ somethin’ yourself.’
I looked down at the jar, righted it, and put it back in place where it belonged.