FIC: Bittersweet Symphony (The More Things Change Remix)
Title: Bittersweet Symphony (The More Things Change Remix)
Rating: PG13
Characters: Minerva McGonagall, Hermione Granger, Albus Dumbledore, Ron Weasley, Harry Potter
Word Count: 1298
Summary: Everything changes. Minerva McGonagall knows that better than most.
A/N 1: Inspired by An Overture Before the Story Begins by Caitrin Torres.
A/N 2: Many thanks to ljs for suggesting the concept for this fic, and rhiannonhero, ljs and garnigal for looking this over for me as well as their extremely helpful suggestions.
"Can anyone tell me the definition of Transfiguration?"
Minerva's hand immediately shot up. It was her very first class on her very first day at Hogwarts, and she very much wanted to impress Professor Dumbledore.
"Yes, Miss McGonagall?"
"Transfiguration," she said, pushing her glasses up on her nose, "is the art of changing the form and appearance of an object."
"That is correct. Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts, and its practice is not to be taken lightly. I urge you to pay attention at all times. You never know what you might miss, otherwise."
Minerva stared, transfixed. With his flowing auburn hair and beard and piercing blue eyes, the professor was rather intimidating. He turned towards his desk, where, with a flick of his wand and a few short words, a bouquet of wildflowers became a kaleidoscope of butterflies which happily flitted about the room. There was a twinkle in his eye as he took in the delighted faces of his students.
"Complex and dangerous, but also rather fun."
He soon set them to their first task, an attempt at transfiguring a match into a needle. When Minerva was the only one of her class to be successful, Professor Dumbledore congratulated her, and the pride she felt had her floating all the way to Charms class.
Transfiguration. The art of change. And change, Minerva thought, could be a wondrous thing.
***
Albus sat behind his desk, more serious than she could remember seeing him before. The latest attack, this time on a Muggle train station, had left dozens dead and the wizarding world buzzing about who was responsible. When Dumbledore explained that Tom Riddle - now calling himself by the ridiculous name of Lord Voldemort - was behind all this madness, she was more shocked than she probably should have been. Minerva remembered his natural talent and dedication to his studies from his school days, but she also recalled a coldness and a particular cruelty, especially towards Muggle-born students, that he had tried and failed to completely disguise. She’d felt sorry for the boy, the way he’d been raised. She didn’t feel sorry for him anymore.
“He’s assembled a large group of wizards, blood purists, to help him on his quest. He’s recruited others as well - werewolves, giants.”
“And what do you plan to do about it?”
Albus looked at her over the top of his spectacles and allowed himself the ghost of a smile.
“You assume I have a plan?”
“Am I wrong?”
“Rarely, if ever, Minerva.” He glanced up at Fawkes, who was looking rather sickly. The poor thing made a rather unpleasant gurgling noise and shuddered, several of its few remaining feathers falling to the ground. “I’ve decided to assemble my own group of wizards,” he said, turning his attention back to her. “We cannot sit by idly and just watch this happen.”
“You do realize that by fighting him, you will bring his wrath down upon the wizarding world as well?”
“Membership in the Order of the Phoenix is entirely voluntary,” Albus replied.
“Very good. Where do I sign up?”
“Minerva, this is not a decision to be made without due consideration.”
“Indeed it isn’t, Headmaster.”
Fawkes made a final, weak squawk before bursting into flames. His ashes fell to the ground, and Albus bent down to retrieve the tiny, naked bird that emerged, shivering, from among them. He held this newborn version of Fawkes gently in the palm of his hand.
“Everything changes now, Minerva.”
In fact, Minerva thought, it already had. And change could be very, very painful.
***
“Thank you so much for getting these for me, Professor McGonagall.”
Minerva hoped the volumes she’d managed to smuggle out from under Irma Pince’s watchful eye would prove useful. She was almost certain they would; Hermione might always have her head in a book, but it was never in the clouds. She was as resourceful as she was intelligent.
“We’ll miss you at Hogwarts this year, Hermione. All of you,” she said, as Harry and Ron entered the room.
Minerva’s visit to the Weasley residence has been more painful than she had anticipated, but she could not let the three of them leave without her well-wishes, at the very least.
“How will you stand it, Professor? Working with him,” Ron said, as if the name Severus Snape was too vile to cross his lips. She understood completely.
“We all have our jobs to do, Mr. Weasley, unpleasant as they may be.”
“I’m glad you’ll be there,” Harry said. “For the students’ sake. They’ll need you now more than ever.”
And that was the only reason she was staying on - because she couldn’t leave her students, any of the students, under these circumstances. It was her duty to protect them as well as teach them, and she would do both to the best of her ability. Even if she would have to call that murderous bastard ‘Headmaster.’
It was time for her to leave, and she found herself tearing up at the thought of the journey these brave children were about to embark on - except, they weren't really children anymore. Harry and Ron said their good-byes, but Hermione hung back, giving her a quick embrace before running to join the other two. Minerva watched them as they walked away, and couldn’t help thinking about how different they were from those young first-years they’d been not so long ago.
She had worried about them then, as she did all her students. But she'd been especially concerned about Hermione, afraid that she spent too much time studying, and that she’d never make friends. She needn’t have worried about that, as it turned out. But then again, she never expected the day would come when she would fear for their very lives.
She thanked Merlin for Harry, Ron and Hermione and the strength of their friendship, because, together, she had faith that they could accomplish the daunting task before them. They had to. The whole world was depending on them.
Change, Minerva thought, is inevitable. She had to believe it would be a change for the better.
***
“Good Evening, Headmistress.”
“Hermione! Please do come in.”
It was both odd and comforting to see Hermione back in her school robes after everything that had happened. The Battle of Hogwarts had taken place only a few short months ago, but it sometimes seemed as if an age had passed.
“It’s good to see you,” Hermione said, and took a seat in the chair opposite Minerva. “Sir,” she said, smiling up at Dumbledore’s portrait, and Minerva waited while Albus greeted her in return.
“It’s wonderful to see you as well, but I must admit I was a bit surprised to hear you’d be returning to school instead of joining your colleagues and Minister Shacklebolt.”
Hermione laughed and smoothed down her robes. "It was tempting, but it would've bothered me too much not to finish up properly. And take my N.E.W.T.s, of course."
Minerva smiled. "Of course. How silly of me."
"But you were so kind to offer to give us credit for seventh year,” she hastened to add.
“It was not a kindness, you realize. You earned it, my dear. But we are very happy to have you back. Although surely, it won't be as exciting as starting a new career would be along with Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley?”
"Perhaps not," Hermione said, leaning forward and lowering her voice, “But between you and me? I’ve been really looking forward to spending some time in the library.”
Minerva nodded. “Yes, Hermione, I can certainly see the appeal of that as well.”
Still a girl after her own heart. Ah, Minerva thought, it was good to know some things never changed.
Rating: PG13
Characters: Minerva McGonagall, Hermione Granger, Albus Dumbledore, Ron Weasley, Harry Potter
Word Count: 1298
Summary: Everything changes. Minerva McGonagall knows that better than most.
A/N 1: Inspired by An Overture Before the Story Begins by Caitrin Torres.
A/N 2: Many thanks to ljs for suggesting the concept for this fic, and rhiannonhero, ljs and garnigal for looking this over for me as well as their extremely helpful suggestions.
"Can anyone tell me the definition of Transfiguration?"
Minerva's hand immediately shot up. It was her very first class on her very first day at Hogwarts, and she very much wanted to impress Professor Dumbledore.
"Yes, Miss McGonagall?"
"Transfiguration," she said, pushing her glasses up on her nose, "is the art of changing the form and appearance of an object."
"That is correct. Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts, and its practice is not to be taken lightly. I urge you to pay attention at all times. You never know what you might miss, otherwise."
Minerva stared, transfixed. With his flowing auburn hair and beard and piercing blue eyes, the professor was rather intimidating. He turned towards his desk, where, with a flick of his wand and a few short words, a bouquet of wildflowers became a kaleidoscope of butterflies which happily flitted about the room. There was a twinkle in his eye as he took in the delighted faces of his students.
"Complex and dangerous, but also rather fun."
He soon set them to their first task, an attempt at transfiguring a match into a needle. When Minerva was the only one of her class to be successful, Professor Dumbledore congratulated her, and the pride she felt had her floating all the way to Charms class.
Transfiguration. The art of change. And change, Minerva thought, could be a wondrous thing.
***
Albus sat behind his desk, more serious than she could remember seeing him before. The latest attack, this time on a Muggle train station, had left dozens dead and the wizarding world buzzing about who was responsible. When Dumbledore explained that Tom Riddle - now calling himself by the ridiculous name of Lord Voldemort - was behind all this madness, she was more shocked than she probably should have been. Minerva remembered his natural talent and dedication to his studies from his school days, but she also recalled a coldness and a particular cruelty, especially towards Muggle-born students, that he had tried and failed to completely disguise. She’d felt sorry for the boy, the way he’d been raised. She didn’t feel sorry for him anymore.
“He’s assembled a large group of wizards, blood purists, to help him on his quest. He’s recruited others as well - werewolves, giants.”
“And what do you plan to do about it?”
Albus looked at her over the top of his spectacles and allowed himself the ghost of a smile.
“You assume I have a plan?”
“Am I wrong?”
“Rarely, if ever, Minerva.” He glanced up at Fawkes, who was looking rather sickly. The poor thing made a rather unpleasant gurgling noise and shuddered, several of its few remaining feathers falling to the ground. “I’ve decided to assemble my own group of wizards,” he said, turning his attention back to her. “We cannot sit by idly and just watch this happen.”
“You do realize that by fighting him, you will bring his wrath down upon the wizarding world as well?”
“Membership in the Order of the Phoenix is entirely voluntary,” Albus replied.
“Very good. Where do I sign up?”
“Minerva, this is not a decision to be made without due consideration.”
“Indeed it isn’t, Headmaster.”
Fawkes made a final, weak squawk before bursting into flames. His ashes fell to the ground, and Albus bent down to retrieve the tiny, naked bird that emerged, shivering, from among them. He held this newborn version of Fawkes gently in the palm of his hand.
“Everything changes now, Minerva.”
In fact, Minerva thought, it already had. And change could be very, very painful.
***
“Thank you so much for getting these for me, Professor McGonagall.”
Minerva hoped the volumes she’d managed to smuggle out from under Irma Pince’s watchful eye would prove useful. She was almost certain they would; Hermione might always have her head in a book, but it was never in the clouds. She was as resourceful as she was intelligent.
“We’ll miss you at Hogwarts this year, Hermione. All of you,” she said, as Harry and Ron entered the room.
Minerva’s visit to the Weasley residence has been more painful than she had anticipated, but she could not let the three of them leave without her well-wishes, at the very least.
“How will you stand it, Professor? Working with him,” Ron said, as if the name Severus Snape was too vile to cross his lips. She understood completely.
“We all have our jobs to do, Mr. Weasley, unpleasant as they may be.”
“I’m glad you’ll be there,” Harry said. “For the students’ sake. They’ll need you now more than ever.”
And that was the only reason she was staying on - because she couldn’t leave her students, any of the students, under these circumstances. It was her duty to protect them as well as teach them, and she would do both to the best of her ability. Even if she would have to call that murderous bastard ‘Headmaster.’
It was time for her to leave, and she found herself tearing up at the thought of the journey these brave children were about to embark on - except, they weren't really children anymore. Harry and Ron said their good-byes, but Hermione hung back, giving her a quick embrace before running to join the other two. Minerva watched them as they walked away, and couldn’t help thinking about how different they were from those young first-years they’d been not so long ago.
She had worried about them then, as she did all her students. But she'd been especially concerned about Hermione, afraid that she spent too much time studying, and that she’d never make friends. She needn’t have worried about that, as it turned out. But then again, she never expected the day would come when she would fear for their very lives.
She thanked Merlin for Harry, Ron and Hermione and the strength of their friendship, because, together, she had faith that they could accomplish the daunting task before them. They had to. The whole world was depending on them.
Change, Minerva thought, is inevitable. She had to believe it would be a change for the better.
***
“Good Evening, Headmistress.”
“Hermione! Please do come in.”
It was both odd and comforting to see Hermione back in her school robes after everything that had happened. The Battle of Hogwarts had taken place only a few short months ago, but it sometimes seemed as if an age had passed.
“It’s good to see you,” Hermione said, and took a seat in the chair opposite Minerva. “Sir,” she said, smiling up at Dumbledore’s portrait, and Minerva waited while Albus greeted her in return.
“It’s wonderful to see you as well, but I must admit I was a bit surprised to hear you’d be returning to school instead of joining your colleagues and Minister Shacklebolt.”
Hermione laughed and smoothed down her robes. "It was tempting, but it would've bothered me too much not to finish up properly. And take my N.E.W.T.s, of course."
Minerva smiled. "Of course. How silly of me."
"But you were so kind to offer to give us credit for seventh year,” she hastened to add.
“It was not a kindness, you realize. You earned it, my dear. But we are very happy to have you back. Although surely, it won't be as exciting as starting a new career would be along with Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley?”
"Perhaps not," Hermione said, leaning forward and lowering her voice, “But between you and me? I’ve been really looking forward to spending some time in the library.”
Minerva nodded. “Yes, Hermione, I can certainly see the appeal of that as well.”
Still a girl after her own heart. Ah, Minerva thought, it was good to know some things never changed.