Leigh!fic | The Witching Hour (1/1) | Minerva McGonagall
Title: The Witching Hour (1/1)
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Character: Minerva McGonagall
Rating: G
Word Count: 200
Summary: Midnight at Hogwarts. Perfect time for flight.
Notes: Written as a gift for mmadfan for hp_halloween 2016. Thanks to fiery_flamingo and mugglechump for the quick beta. Supporting information for McGonagall was helpfully supplied by Pottermore.
The light of the full moon bathed the castle in an eerie glow. It was quiet as the grave, with not even a breeze to stir the dying leaves on the trees. The witching hour, some called it. Well past bedtime for all good little Hogwarts students - and most professors.
There was no one to see the solitary hooded figure take flight from the Astronomy Tower. If there were, they would know this was a creature of habit. Many October nights could find this person flying over the Scottish highlands, heedless of the autumnal chill.
The flier swooped down to skim the surface of the lake, the force of flight pushing the hood back to reveal a familiar face. Minerva McGonagall, her hair bound in a dark, thick braid, flying with speed to rival a professional Quidditch player. In the air, she could forget that it was nearly Halloween.
"A Halloween wedding?" Dougal had murmured quizzically before shrugging. "Aye, it's a bit queer, but if it makes ye happy, love, then Halloween it'll be."
In the air, she could forget everything. Her students, her work, her -- no, not hers - Muggle farmer.
She was a witch, and she was home.
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Character: Minerva McGonagall
Rating: G
Word Count: 200
Summary: Midnight at Hogwarts. Perfect time for flight.
Notes: Written as a gift for mmadfan for hp_halloween 2016. Thanks to fiery_flamingo and mugglechump for the quick beta. Supporting information for McGonagall was helpfully supplied by Pottermore.
The light of the full moon bathed the castle in an eerie glow. It was quiet as the grave, with not even a breeze to stir the dying leaves on the trees. The witching hour, some called it. Well past bedtime for all good little Hogwarts students - and most professors.
There was no one to see the solitary hooded figure take flight from the Astronomy Tower. If there were, they would know this was a creature of habit. Many October nights could find this person flying over the Scottish highlands, heedless of the autumnal chill.
The flier swooped down to skim the surface of the lake, the force of flight pushing the hood back to reveal a familiar face. Minerva McGonagall, her hair bound in a dark, thick braid, flying with speed to rival a professional Quidditch player. In the air, she could forget that it was nearly Halloween.
"A Halloween wedding?" Dougal had murmured quizzically before shrugging. "Aye, it's a bit queer, but if it makes ye happy, love, then Halloween it'll be."
In the air, she could forget everything. Her students, her work, her -- no, not hers - Muggle farmer.
She was a witch, and she was home.