Disclaimer: All recognizable person, places and things are credited to JK Rowling and I'm making no $$$ is made from this fanfic. DH spoilers abound!!
Chapter 1- Minerva McGonagall
April 10, 1998
I've kept a journal since I was a girl and I don't intend to stop now! This is a new journal, fresh pages, symbolic of the the new era that started at sunrise this morning.
Not many of the revelers noticed the three leave the Great Hall, but I did. Harry was never much for attention, so when he left, it was not surprising that his two best friends would follow. With a last glance at Longbottom and his group of admirers, I left the hall. The battered gargoyle was no longer really guarding the entrance to my office, but merely nodded his chipped head as I walked by.
When I quietly opened the door, I heard Harry say, "I will, sir, I promise" and came into the office.
Albus looked at me from his portrait over Harry's shoulder and said, "Ah Minerva, I was just reminding Harry of his next task."
Not another one! "Which is?" I asked.
"To live" was the reply, followed by a lemon drop popped into his mouth. Only Albus would have requested the artist to include those sweets for eternity.
"Well...that goes without saying," I replied.
The young heroes (too young in my opinion) left my office, Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley holding hands the whole time. Despite being the closest of friends all these tumultuous years, they do seem an unlikely couple, but then again, I've seen even more unlikely couples enjoy full, happy lives together.
Minerva put down the quill, rose from behind the desk and wearily sank into the more comfortable plush chair in front of the desk. She knew that she looked a fright. Some her hair had come out of its bun, her robes were tattered, and she felt the cut on her cheek. All she wanted to do was sleep, for days. My cracked rib can be mended tomorrow. She let her head fall back.
"Minerva?" Albus asked softly from the portrait.
"Yes Albus?" she asked wearily, without raising her head.
"You've never looked more beautiful, my dear," he said.
"That's debatable," she replied
"Have you received medical attention?" he asked.
"No need, all I require is sleep," she said with a absent wave of her hand.
"I should say so" declared Phineas Nigellus from his portrait. It was the last thing she heard before closing her eyes, allowing exhaustion to overpower her.
She woke some time later to the feel of a gentle shake of her shoulder. She looked up the arm to see the kind eyes of Harry looking at her face. She glanced around the office to see Hermione thanking an owl that just delivered a letter and Ron poking a snow globe among the many knick-knacks on the shelf. Madame Pomfrey was standing just behind him. Minerva sat up and winced.
"Just as I suspected," the mediwitch fussed and came forward, waving a medi-wand over her. "You must come to the infirmary, Minerva, so I can treat you properly."
"In time, I will, but I must speak to these three first," Minerva said.
The nurse took a bottle of dittany from her robe. "At least use this until you do come in?"
Minerva nodded and took the bottle, then looked at the three. "Excuse me if I don't rise," she said.
"Not a problem," Ron said and grabbed two chairs.
"Please, don't get up," Hermione said.
Harry started to fluff a pillow and put it behind her back. "Now stop fussing as if I'm some old, infirm hag, I'm fine," Minerva half-heartedly fussed.
Looking at the three, tattered and weary themselves, how could she fuss? After what they had been through? All that they had done? The three took seats around her.
"I suppose you want to hear about Snape?" Harry asked.
Minerva nodded. "That's one of the things, yes, but tea first."
When a house elf arrived with tea, Harry took a deep breath and started the story. He told of them huddled under the invisibility cloak, listening to the conversation between Snape and Voldemort.
"Everything seemed to move in slow motion when Nagini came toward him," Harry said. "It just doesn't...how do I put this...seem like a fitting end."
"A fitting end? Harry, everything that happened in Severus' life came from the choices he made. His behavior during his short tenure as Headmaster was reprehensible. He allowed students to be hurt, to be afraid, to be bullied by 'teachers' while under this roof, and ran like a coward when confronted. How exactly did you envision his end?" Minerva asked.
"I'm not sure. But there in the shrieking shack, Voldemort was asking him questions he couldn't answer...he was frightened, right there at the end-" Harry said.
"Who wouldn't be, with that humongous snake flying toward him?" Ron declared.
"He was frightened, but he didn't beg or ask for his life or run," Harry said. "And when he gave me those memories, as he was dying-"
"What memories?" Minerva asked.
Harry pointed to the pensive in the corner. "He gave me memories as he was dying. Without them, I wouldn't have been able to do what I did."
"I see," Minerva said curiously. "May I see these memories?"
Harry shrugged in agreement. "I don't see why not."
Ten minutes later, Minerva emerged from the memory, gripping her hurt side and leaning on the desk. The three jumped up to help her.
"I don't know who had it worse all these years, you or Severus," Minerva said to Harry with tears in her eyes.
"I think he did," Harry said softly. "Now, let's get you to Madame Pomfrey."
"Now tell me Harry, how it came to be that Hagrid came back with your 'dead' body?" she asked as the four made their way down the stairs.