Fantastic Beasts: The Final Light
(Sequel to The Final Oath)
The castle was quiet. The battle had ended, and the echoes of war still lingered in the air. The Great Hall, once filled with students and laughter, now carried the weight of loss. Hogwarts had won - but at what cost?
Minerva McGonagall sat in her office, staring at the single flickering candle on her desk. The weight of the past few days pressed against her chest. She had spent hours tending to the wounded, comforting students, burying the dead.
But now, the silence was unbearable.
She looked up, already knowing who it was.
Harry Potter stepped inside, hesitant. He had always seen Minerva McGonagall as a stern professor, an unshakable force. But tonight, she looked different. Tired. Older.
“Professor,” he said softly.
Minerva managed a small smile. “You don’t have to call me that anymore, you know.”
Harry hesitated. “Then… what should I call you?”
She studied him for a long moment. Then, with a sigh, she gestured for him to sit.
“You remind me of your mother,” she said suddenly.
Harry blinked. “You knew her well?”
Minerva’s gaze softened. “I loved her, Harry.”
He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but those words - so open, so raw - made something tighten in his chest.
“I was her professor, yes,” Minerva continued. “But more than that, I was… something of a mother to her. She had a kindness about her, a fire in her heart. Just like you.”
Harry swallowed. “No one ever told me that.”
Minerva’s lips twitched. “Of course they didn’t. Albus never liked speaking of the past.”
At the mention of Dumbledore, something unreadable crossed Harry’s face. “I still don’t know if I ever really knew him.”
Minerva exhaled slowly. “Neither did I. Not fully.”
A long silence stretched between them. Then, almost hesitantly, Harry asked, “Did you love him?”
For a moment, she considered brushing the question aside. But Harry - Harry deserved the truth.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “I did.”
Harry looked down. “Did he love you?”
It was barely above a whisper, but it was the truest thing she had ever said.
Harry’s fingers curled into fists. “Then why - why didn’t he ever - ”
Minerva reached across the desk, covering his hand with her own. “Because love is not always simple.”
Harry swallowed hard, and Minerva squeezed his hand gently.
Then, after a long silence, she whispered, “He told me once, you know.”
Minerva’s voice was soft, distant. “He told me he loved me.”
She exhaled slowly, eyes distant. “It was years ago. Long before you were born. He had just returned from his greatest battle, the war that shaped the world as we know it. He was broken, weary, but he looked at me as if - ” She paused, swallowing thickly. “As if I was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.”
Harry didn’t speak. He only listened.
“He told me the truth that night,” Minerva murmured. “The truth about Grindelwald. About his past, his mistakes.”
Harry’s hands tightened. “And you stayed.”
Minerva nodded. “Of course I did.”
Then, after a long moment, Harry asked, “Did he ever tell you again?”
Minerva’s lips curled into something almost wistful. “No. He didn’t need to.”
Harry studied her carefully. “I think he did, though. Every time he looked at you.”
Minerva inhaled sharply. For a moment, just a moment, she saw Albus in her mind’s eye - young, weary, standing in the shadows of a war that had nearly destroyed him.
And she saw the way he had looked at her.
As if she was his last light in the dark.
“Perhaps,” she whispered.
Then, softer - almost to herself - she added, “Perhaps.”
____________________________________
Harry stayed for a long time. He wasn’t sure why, only that he didn’t want to leave just yet.
Then, after a while, he spoke again.
“I heard you,” he said quietly.
Minerva frowned. “Heard me?”
Harry hesitated, then looked her straight in the eyes.
“When I was… when I was pretending to be dead,” he murmured, voice thick with something unreadable. “I heard you cry out my name.”
“I thought it was over,” Harry continued. “I thought no one cared. But then I heard you.”
Minerva swallowed. “Harry - ”
“You sounded like you lost a son.”
Minerva shut her eyes, exhaling sharply.
Or, at least, she had nearly lost the only piece of Lily she had left.
Harry reached out, gripping her hand. “I don’t remember much from that moment. But I remember your voice. It made me want to come back.”
Minerva exhaled shakily, covering their joined hands with her own.
“You are my family, Harry,” she whispered. “You always have been.”
Harry’s throat tightened. He wasn’t sure what to say, so instead, he simply held on.
For the first time in years, he felt like he had a grandmother.
And Minerva McGonagall - who had lost so much, who had carried the weight of the world for far too long - finally allowed herself to hold on, too.
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