meow.

alastor had begun planning the moment he’d first stepped foot at headquarters after the attack and it was as if his mind had completely lost an off switch. her words seem to align with that - he wondered if she’d caught a minute of sleep since. as a gut reaction, he auror gave her a quick sharp look. recruitment. NO. all of him wanted to yell that word, no, no no, no. he’d done just that before, every time dumbledore told him they’d be accepting yet another clueless civilian, or, even worse, yet another clueless CHILD. they didn’t belong in that war. “well, we’re all fucked if we don’t trust each other. so we’re fucked.” he let his head drop to the side, supporting its weight with one hand, exhaustion bleeding him dry and she was one of the unlucky ones with the privileged front seat to that. he was silent for a moment. “we’re losing.” and that was the brutal truth he wouldn’t dare say in front of the world. loss after loss after loss, the order had begun a war against one man whose army was the entire society, with ties to all branches, all places, high and low, infinite resources, legions of trained followers unshackled by morality or law. sometimes the powers were balanced, but lately the scale seemed to tip off to the wrong side a bit too often. “but we still have time.” alastor moody, a hopeful man. who knew. “we gather those we have, we don’t hold back, we strike just as brutally. i can’t accept defeat and i know you can’t either.”

it seemed like he was returning the favour. brutal honesty slipped past alastor’s lips and all she could do was nod, because she agreed. they were fucked. they were losing. “maybe i’m just being paranoid,” she said, hoping to take away the words she had, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was someone or even multiple people that they couldn’t trust. maybe it was paranoia. maybe she was being healthily wary. at his other words, she postponed a reply. she was quiet, still, frozen. minerva didn’t want to admit that he was right, but he was --- they both knew it, but saying it out loud made it real. it was a truth she didn’t want to accept, but one that was so dangerously real, that it could kill her and others if they denied it. “we are.” the two words slipped past her lips as if they’d been fighting to get out. she buried her head in her hands for a moment, thoughts racing, shoulders tense. she wouldn’t accept defeat, but it seemed to be so near. “you’re right.” she nodded. “we’re going to fight this until the every end. whatever that holds for us, we’re going to keep fighting, because i won’t live with myself knowing that i didn’t give it everything i had.”

Molly could only imagine how Minerva could relate to the somewhat comfort in the loud chaotic environment. After all she spent almost the whole year surrounded by children just as rambunctious as her boys, in a couple of years even they’d join that group. Even during the night it was hard to find quiet with Fred or George on a constant sleep strike leaving Molly heavily pregnant and exhausted. Despite that, she loved her boys more than anything in the world and it had been that way since Bill was born ten years prior. “I wouldn’t disagree,”

        and this was how the war ended for minerva mcgonagall:                    stuck in disbelief that two more of her students had died.

                    “it was lazy. we were so expectant of the death eaters being our main concern that we all but wrote off the rogue groups entirely …” a sigh, followed by nails drumming on the mug of tea. we can’t always succeed. the words repeated at the forefront of amelia’s mind, leaving an acrid taste in her mouth. she wasn’t blind to the the risks they were facing, nor was she naive enough to believe any of this would be easy, but this was her job — to view the risks and every potential scenario head on and determine what the best course of action was. yet she had been too relaxed, too arrogant, and it led to failure. we can’t always succeed. “i just can’t help but feel like it’s my fault. i’m sure you’ve seen the latest article in the prophet about the auror office.” a hum fell past her lips as she nodded. “of course. anything you need me to cover for you?”

                “naive, even,” she said. it was a word she’d been using more these days. mostly to describe herself with, in all honesty --- she had never considered herself naive before, but it seemed that was was that, now. “this is what they wanted, and they got it. though, who could have known, that they would do that? kill the minister so publicly?”  minerva hadn’t anticipated it, that was for sure; she’d had the feeling that something was going to happen, like she did with every big event nowadays, but not something on this scale. this was bold. this was a start, and she didn’t want to see what else was to come. “it’s not.” it’s mine. “it’s not your fault, amelia; if only it was as simple as that. it’s all of ours, in a way, but it’s theirs, in the end. they raised those wands, whoever they were.” she didn’t believe her own words, her guilt still weighing down on her. “if you could take care of all my lower years classes, that’d be swell,” she said, her words half-bitter, half a joke. “no, i think i’m fine.”

the man stopped, looking at her heavily and deeply. there’d been so many innocent CHILDREN there, some cold on the ground, crushed by the feet of a terrified crowd - they were HER children. few people understood their guilt as well as each other. it was the kind that accumulated in their bones rather than breaking them, that weighed them down, disfiguring them, but never lethal. they collected lives they hadn’t managed to save and weight that wasn’t their own, and he could see it in her eyes, her face, her voice. “i’ve sent word to some contacts already. some of our spies have gone looking too. and i’ll start doing some research with a badge myself.” the law had its ups and downs. he followed her eyes, sighing. “i know.” he didn’t look back at her. “it doesn’t feel like enough, minerva.”

“ oh, but you would never harm one of your favorite students like that, minnie, “ he spoke. his usual PLAYFUL smirk was given though given the circumstances it felt a bit weak. he shook his head in clear refusal. “ there’s too much to do minnie in order to figure out who these bastards are. really it’s no time for naps, “ he said.

       When she spotted her aunt across the pitch, Emma immediately dropped her broom and jogged over to greet her – between both of their demanding schedules, she never seemed to find the time to visit, which was a shame in its own right. It was a breath of fresh air to see her, hear her voice; Minerva had easily been one of her favourite people growing up – an inspiration of sorts – and even during her schooling ( then, however, she would have never admitted to it thanks to inter-house rivalries and the revoking of house points ), Emma had always seen Minerva for exactly who she wanted to be: strong, steadfast, and a braver woman than anyone  could ever imagine.

    “ Well, tell them to sod off ! You’re good at that, especially with your scary professor voice. I sure can attest to it. ” Emma’s smile pulled wider and just a touch cheeky, but it’s all bark with no bite. She wrapped her aunt in a hug then, quick enough not to transfer her sweat and grime onto her robes but tight enough to convey thank Merlin you’re alright. “ It’s so nice to see you, auntie. I heard about the – the attack. How have you been ? ”

     How glad she was to see Emma, in one piece, smiling at her. THIS, this was something that soothed her mind, which was constantly shifting, the gears inside her head creaking and working non stop. Family cooled her down a bit, grounded her a little ( perhaps, if she had a family of her own -- her own kids, her own home -- she would feel more calm in general, but she figured it’d only add more stress ). To be hugged, to be called auntie, to be a family member, rather than a professor, a deputy headmistress, an older order member ... it was a relief. It was natural.

    “Oh, yes, you most definitely can. Next time, I shall send them a howler in which I tell them precisely that. I’ll let you know how it goes,” Minerva said in return, mirroring the others smile with a smaller -- but not less genuine -- one. The hug, too, was returned, her hand rubbing the others back for a moment before she pulled back. Her smile turned into a grimace, then. “I’m alright. The same can’t be said for many others, but I’m alright. And you? Holding up okay?”

He hadn’t been back in years- there had been no need and resolutely no want to return. In fact, if he had to search for a moment of happiness that brought to mind a distinct image, it would have been the day he had stepped onto the train to return back to King’s Cross station, his seventh year completed, freedom at last. Short-lived freedom. But nonetheless. 

But there was work to be done, information to be gathered, and if it meant returning to his old stomping grounds, then there was no way around the matter. For a moment, as he stepped through Hogsmeade, there was a flash of memory that swept over his mind. However– nostalgia was a fool’s game to play and he refused to indulge it. There was no time for it. 

He had hoped for no distractions to keep his task quick and clean, and yet, an opportunity presented itself. There was a moment where he thought better of himself, urged to continue without noting the figure in front of him as anything more than a shadow of the past. And yet– he serviced his desire to renew old hatreds. Stepping towards her, he emerges from his shadows.

“I would say inconvenient rather than odd.” He offers a nod. “Professor.” 

Perhaps she should keep her dwellings to her office. Look them in the square space and never let them leave that room, like she did with so many other things. To take her grief, her nostalgia, her ever growing longing outside that place, that safe little box, was unwise. She knew that now. She had known that before.

It had taken a war for Minerva to realise that she wasn’t as solid as she thought she was. Where she had always thought she was frozen water, she was suddenly more than that: a tsunami, a raincloud, a waterfall. She was moving water, ready to fall apart at any given second.

It was funny to realise that everything she tried to hold onto was the same: she thought it all solid, but when she tightened her grip it all turned into fluid water, leaving her fingers wet and empty. She had thought herself frozen, she had thought herself fire, but all she was was falling tears and trying to hide them.

She looked at Evan Rosier with a quirked eyebrow. Inconvenient was a stoic word, one that fit the situation but not her mood. “Mr Rosier,” she said, nodding in return. “I suppose it’s both of those, and many more. There’s quite a lot of words to describe ... all this.”

he didn’t know why he had come back to be honest.  what good would apparating to a place filled with so many awful memories do him?  he couldn’t give himself a proper answer anymore.  with his shoes heavy and leather jacket covering him like a blanket,  benjy ambled through the streets of hogsmeade.  the village looked ruined from the outside.  most of the shops empty or boarded up.  he knew it’d take some time for the lively village to get back on its feet.  it had done it the year before,  and it could do it again.

“ —s’very odd.  it’s too quiet here,  m’not used to it, ”  he answered solemly,  legs carrying him closer to his old professor.  mcgonagall looked just like she had all those years prior when he was in hogwarts.  though, benjy noticed,  her eyes looked tired - worn even.  was she crying?  “ it’s good to see you,  mcgonagall.  if only it were on better terms. ” 

that was the worst part: that it wasn’t the first time. this had happened again -- though last times it had been death eaters that had caused such chaos -- and yet they were standing there, shocked. minerva felt naive, in all honesty, and that was a feeling she despised. she should have told albus not to send the kids to merlin day, to keep them inside the castle and celebrate it there ( she doubts that he’d have listened, but still ) but she hadn’t. she had failed. kids had died and it was on her.

“it is.” it was not good, this silence. minerva could appreciate silence, but this quietness was eerie. she dabbed at her eyes before she looked at benjy, hoping he’d not say anything of it, had he seen her cry. “likewise, mr fenwick,” she replied. “how have you been holding up?” it was a simple question, a courtesy, but she knew it weighed heavy these days.

calm?

“not especially.”

liam’s gaze turned away from the window, a slow, heavy tilt of his head as he looked at her, as if it were filled with rocks. which it was. as much as he didn’t like prying when he didn’t have to, no one these days tended to hang about the various bars and cafes hogsmeade had to offer in the late hours, so the place was nearly empty except for the few tired employees in the back. it was quiet and minerva’s thoughts echoed out to him like she was putting them through a megaphone. he tapped the side of his temple twice before looking back out the window, tiny droplets of rain starting to gather on the glass. 

“you almost done there?” he asked, even though he doubted she was. his sister was out and though he’d managed to pass the first hour or so of being babysat without her, his patience was wearing thin. 

“compared to merlin day, it is.” she stated it as if it was a fact, and it was, if you asked her: while there was a certain eeriness present in hogsmeade, it was calm. whether that was a good thing, however, she didn’t know quite yet. she missed the yelling drunks from rosmerta’s place and shopping crowds, though those had been thinning every few months for years now.

Minerva thinks for a moment. “Probably winning the quidditch cup in my sixth year, if I’m honest. I’m very proud of all my academic achievements, of course –” and there were MANY “– but nothing felt quite as good as destroying Slytherin in that last game and winning that cup, just because we played well.”

she was in hogsmeade now, having escaped the castle for a while, but with everything weighing on her shoulders like lead, the image of the village made her feel like she was cracking. minerva mcgonagall didn’t crack --- she wasn’t supposed to, so she didn’t, but her eyes were watering, and she found out too late. she wiped at already fallen tears, looking over her shoulder. “odd, being back, isn’t it?,” she said, her voice a bit unsteady. “it seems so calm, now.”

Molly took a sip of her tea, trying not to let the silence in the room leave her unsettled. With five very young and rambunctious children it was an odd and rare occurrence to not hear a constant chaos. Even if it meant absolutely nothing it left her with a terrible feeling, setting the mug down with hesitation. “It’s far too quite and I don’t think I trust it very much.”