Man I Love Cats

man i love cats

The Hardest Night

Word Count: 3,204

Summary: Minerva McGonagall tries to make it through Sirius Black's birthday

Warnings: mentions of death, kind of angsty?, fluffy, this is the first time I've really written something like this, so the chances are high it's terrible lol. Unedited (I edited it but I'm dyslexic, so like, ya know)

AO3 Link: here-

If Minerva McGonagall knew one thing, it was the sound of a chandelier crashing down.

It was Tuesday, November 3rd, 1998, and she had started the morning on a rough note. Sirius Black’s birthday. Sirius had been a bright boy and a wonderful man, though he often found himself in troubling situations. She mourned him, as she had mourned James and Lily, as she mourned the students who gave their lives in the Battle of Hogwarts. She carried them all, a weight on her shoulders, extra wrinkles on her already-aged face.

As she left her quarters, she prepared to face the day, forcing smiles and correcting students’ behavior. Everything is going to be okay, she thought to herself. She held her books close to her, wishing she could don her feline form and spend her day on the roof, alone with her thoughts, but alas, it was a school day.

She considered, for a moment, canceling classes for the day. After all, her students deserved a rest – they had been working so hard, even with all they had witnessed the previous school year – and she was headmistress now. She could do as she pleased and be met with minimal questioning. However, she feared that if she allowed herself to feel, to stop when the rest of the world continued, she would be allowing Voldemort to win, even in a small way. Not to mention classes were over-filled with seventh and sixth years retaking classes – as ordered by the Ministry – so their grades from the previous school year meant little to nothing.

Some seventh-year students had opted out of the do-over year, having received mediocre or better scores on their N.E.W.T.S. and O.W.L.s, and asked to never return to a place with such bittersweet memories. These were all granted, and it had been decided by the Ministry that, so long as the individual could show that they were qualified, the Hogwarts class of 1998 would be given the benefit of the doubt in their future endeavors.

As such, Minerva had promised herself that she would be a rock for the seventh years that had returned, to all Hogwarts students that had returned. She smiled more now, never missed a Quidditch game, and assisted struggling students, more so than she had in years previous. She pulled herself into a mother hen role, enjoying the love from the students, but still feeling empty herself.

Harry Potter and his friends had chosen to return for their do-over, as they had missed the entirety of their seventh year searching for Voldemort’s horcruxes. It was only two months into the school year, but they had all done incredibly well so far, even Ron, which had surprised everyone, especially Ron.

She noted, as she walked towards the great hall, that today would likely be incredibly difficult for Harry as well, and decided that she would make herself as available to him as possible. He would, of course, have Hermione and the Weasleys (and he had been spending considerably more time with Longbottom and Lovegood), but she wanted to be there, just in case.

This had been a smart decision, she realized, when Harry stopped her just outside the hall.

“Could I talk to you for a moment, Professor?” he asked, his eyes dark and sad.

“Give me a quick moment to grab a scone, then we’ll head up to my office, alright?” she responded, smiling at him warmly.

He nodded, so she walked quickly, in that way that commanded power and authority, and grabbed a raspberry scone from the Hufflepuff table. She quickly made her way back to the doors, motioning for Harry to follow her to her chambers.

Once they were seated, Harry fidgeting with the sleeves of his robes, she asked, “What is it that you wished to speak with me about, Mr. Potter?” She took a bite, looking at him expectantly.

“I-I don’t mean to sound odd,” he says, still looking at his sleeves. “But I was wondering if you could tell me a bit about Sirius.” He glanced up. “It’s his, uh-”

“His birthday, yes,” Minerva finished. “I know.”

“It’s just that everyone who knew him – well, everyone but you – is dead, and I wanted to know a bit about what he was like when he was my age.” Harry was still fidgeting, but his eyes were trained firmly on her face.

Minerva smiled at him. She took a moment to select a tale, then began with a deep breath. “Exactly twenty-three years ago today, Sirius Black turned 15,” she began. She looked to the ceiling, reminiscing. “Him and his roommates, Lupin, Pettigrew, and – of course – your father, woke at the crack of dawn to set off fireworks before the sun came up. They exploded brilliantly, as if the boys had made them themselves (for all I know, they did), and we all took a moment to enjoy their splendor before sending the boys back to bed with mild detention.

“At every meal, they sang “happy birthday” so loudly and with such energy that even the faculty couldn’t help but sing. They were loud, impossible to ignore, and oh-so-loving.

“There was an eclipse that day, and Sirius was so happy that such an important thing could happen on his birthday.”

“What kind of eclipse?” Harry cut in, a faint smile lighting on his lips.

“A solar eclipse, I believe,” Minerva said, happy to see a smile on the boy. “I expect young Mr. Lupin was hardly affected, perhaps becoming more “human” than he had been since he was five years old. Sirius loved this, of course, as Remus was far more important to him than I think either of them was willing to admit.

“Thick as thieves, those two were. A different relationship than Sirius and James. Further than brothers but closer to something I could never quite place.” She waved a hand at the air in front of her. “They traversed the school singing David Bowie all day long, and – I don’t know if you know this – but your father was the only decent singer in their group. And even he was, erm, challenged?” She grimaced, remembering the tone-deaf Gryffindor boys parading around, arms around each other’s shoulders, singing at the tops of their lungs.

Harry laughed, and she did, too, finding it was genuine. “There was also some Beatles, if I recall,” McGonagall continued. “I heard Yellow Submarine enough times that day to last me a lifetime.

“But of course, being as they were, they simply could not get through the day without shenanigans, so, they charmed buckets of water over every door in the castle to fall on people’s heads when they walked into rooms, transfigured Mrs. Norris into a teacup, and decorated the Slytherin common room in red and gold.”

“Wait, Mrs. Norris was alive then?” Harry interrupted, bewildered.

inerva nodded. “I’ve long since stopped questioning the cat, Mr. Potter,” she said, her own eyes wide behind her spectacles. “I think she might be older than me.”

Harry laughed again, the sound ringing through the room. She passed him a tin of Ginger Newts.

“They raided the kitchen, filled their robes with sweets and cake and bread, and ran back to their dormitory as if they were being chased by nargles,” she said as Harry bit into a biscuit. “I specifically recall Pettigrew tripping on apples he was spilling, and the rest of the boys nagging him for nabbing fruit. It was a special occasion, after all.”

A sharp rapping sounded. Both turned toward the door as stone scraped against stone and hurried footsteps raced up the stairs.

“Minerva, come quick!” Sprout shouted, running back down the stairs as soon as her small, turnip-shaped head popped over the top of the rail. “A problem in the main corridor!”

Minerva and Harry stood quickly, biscuits forgotten, and the headmistress took her place ahead of the worried boy. Out of habit, his wand was drawn. She steadied it with a wrinkled hand and a soft smile, speed-walking in front of him towards the main hall that led into the school.

A crash sounded, followed by a scream. Laughter sounded as Minerva and Harry ran towards the doors.

The 700-year-old crystal chandelier was in shatters on the ground, students all well away from the carnage, though one first year stood with his hands in his hair and a bewildered look on his face.

“Repairo,” McGonagall said quickly, waving her wand at the crystal on the stones, and looked up to watch it fix itself.

It came crashing back down, clinking and singing, as any concentration she had on her spell disappeared as she beheld four young boys near the ceiling. Or, rather, their ghosts.

James Potter looked the same as he had in his fifth year, as did Remus Lupin. Both wore their Gryffindor robes, while Sirius Black looked closer to 19 or 20 years old in his leather jacket and combat boots. Fred Weasley was the same he had been that day he flew out of Hogwarts with fireworks shooting from the back of his broom into Umbridge’s face. All four faces were lit with joy and mischief, and the young Black swooped down to the ground.

“Well, Professor, you couldn’t have expected me to do nothing for my birthday,” he said as he glided in front of her, laughing at the shock on her face. She felt unable to move, a myriad of emotions swarming her.

Harry ran in front of her, Ginny and Ron close behind him as they beheld their loved ones.

“Dad!” Harry shouted at the ceiling, whooping with joy as his father plummeted down at him. Lupin quickly followed while Fred decided to cut to the chase and dove straight through his sister’s head. She laughed, tears streaming down her face as she held Ron close. Laughter filled the hall as The Marauders dove and played and sang and filled the place with chaos.

Minerva just stood, frozen, watching as her students played and laughed among the four most chaotic individuals to ever grace Hogwarts’ halls. Waves of emotion crashed into her, over and over and over again. Joy, sadness, confusion, joy again, guilt.

Yes. That was why she had been feeling terrible those past few months. She felt guilty for not being able to save them. It had not been her fault, of course, and she knew that, but she felt that she should have done more. She was their matron, their teacher, their guardian, their protector. She had saved thousands of lives, maybe more, that day in May, but it still wasn’t enough.

But here, now, they were returning. Behind her, the doors burst back open, a flurry of ghosts and spirits barrelling into the gathered crowd of children, led by Nearly Headless Nick. There were shouts and cries out as Lavender Brown and Colin Creevey dove towards Harry and Ron, smiling and waving and shouting their joys. Vincent Crabbe dive-bombed the Slytherins and was met with joyous yelling. Nymphadora Tonks flew around the Hufflepuffs, and each of the fallen soldiers of The Battle of Hogwarts flew into the room, smiling and laughing at being reunited with their friends.

Minerva took her leave, quietly repairing the chandelier. She slid behind the crowd of students out the doors and walked quickly back to her office.

Once the statue was back in place, she collapsed to the floor, violent sobs wracking her body. She held her back to the cold stone wall and her face in her hands as she finally released the tears that had been building for months. Images passed across her closed lids. Colin Creevey with his ridiculously oversized camera. Vincent Crabbe stealing cupcakes on Christmas. James Potter winning the House Cup in his sixth year. Fred Weasley attending classes as his brother after a raucous Quidditch party the night before. Sirius Black sitting in the library with his nose buried in a History of Magic textbook. Lavender Brown pulling Ronald Weasley around the castle looking for places to hide. Remus Lupin smiling as his friends filtered into the infirmary after a full moon. Pandora Rosier playing in the woods with thestrals. Severus Snape laughing with Lily Evans by the lake as she danced to music only she could hear. Students laughing at Yule balls and dancing in the courtyard under bright stars. Loud clapping and laughter in the great hall during The Sorting. Children running through Hogsmeade, Zonko’s products and butterbeer in every hand. She reminisced each beautiful, tiny moment she had witnessed in 42 years of teaching. All the while, she cried.

She finished telling herself the story she had been recounting to Harry. How she had found Sirius crying in the courtyard after dinner, begging her to do something about his parents. Pleading with her as tears streamed down his face, telling her the horrible things they had done to him and his brother, what his cousins had experienced at the hands of their parents. Narcissa was no longer a student and was already married to Lucious Malfoy, which meant she was safer than Sirius, but Bellatrix was just as evil as her family and had made years of their lives a living hell.

She remembered how she had cried afterward, when he had gone back to the party his friends had planned and pretended everything was okay. She remembered barging into Dumbledore’s office, screaming at him for keeping students in such terrible situations, berating him with curses and insults that she hadn’t used since her youth, only to be met with, “There is nothing to be done, Minerva.” She spent the rest of Sirius’ years at Hogwarts ensuring he knew he was valued and loved. She would give him extra gifts on his birthday and at Christmas, make extra credit assignments in areas he wanted to learn more about, and make certain that he always had enough to eat. She loved Sirius, wishing often that she could have done more to help him. She told him how proud she was that he had run away and sent thanks and gifts to the Potters. She had done her best, and yet never felt like it was enough.

Every feeling she had pushed down for the last few months rose to the surface, choking her and overpowering her mind. She held herself, arms around her chest, as she sobbed, overwhelmed and helpless, feeling more alone than she had been since her husband had died of a Venomous Tentacula bite three years after they were married.

All of her time, all of her energy had been devoted to her students, so much so that she had not taken a moment for herself since before Dumbledore died. She cried, finally letting herself breathe. She was surprised by how calming it was.

“Minerva McGonagall never had children, but she loved each student as if he had been hers,” a voice said in front of her. Minerva looked up, mouth open in surprise, to find Sirius Black floating before her, his legs crossed and his eyes soft. His hair rippled on a phantom wind as he smiled at her. She wiped her tears, attempting to compose herself.

Her tears couldn’t be contained as he continued speaking.

“Minerva McGonagall never had children, but she treated each child she came across as if he were the most important person she had ever met. Minerva McGonagall never had children, but she was a mother to me.”

************

In the following months, The Marauders became an integral part of Hogwarts life.

They had, of course, adopted Fred as their fourth member, returning themselves to their post as the most chaotic and mischievous group in the school, and made themselves invaluable around the castle. Remus worked as a teacher’s assistant in Defense Against The Dark Arts, greatly enjoying being able to work with children again. Sirius made it his mission to tutor every struggling student in history and astronomy while James worked the Quidditch pitch, assisting learning fliers and seasoned players alike. After all, he had been one of the greatest Quidditch players in Hogwarts’ history. Fred helped with charms practice and taught students quicker and more hidden paths through the castle.

It was odd, at first, to have so many extra ghosts in the castle, but all reservations were quickly forgotten as they became an intrinsic part of life at Hogwarts. Lavender liked to show the house elves where clothes were hidden so they could avoid them if they chose to, Colin spent hours listening to students’ hardships, becoming a counselor of sorts alongside Tonks. Even Nearly Headless Nick, the Bloody Baron, and the rest of Hogwarts’ original ghosts (aside from Myrtle, who remained crying in the girl’s toilet) found tasks and duties around the castle, helping as much as possible.

Students returned to a more normal version of their lives, trauma not gone, but healing quicker than any of them thought possible due to the return of their loved ones. Quidditch resumed, pranks were in full force, and Ron Weasley had opened up a small joke box business from outside the Gryffindor common room, carrying on his brother’s legacy.

Sometime in April, Minerva sat at the head of the Great Hall and watched students eating their meals while the ghosts mingled. She noted each child and saw how their scars healed and faded. Some never would, but students came to terms with this via Remus Lupin showing off his scars, explaining that they had never faded, but they remained a part of who he was. As for the emotional scars, students had a better support system than any class before had.

During dinner, Harry and Hermione asked the original Marauders why they were so young, far more so than they had been when they passed.

“Well, my happiest years were spent here, in this school,” Remus said. “Before the war had really affected us, before we lost our families, before everything. We were at peace here. We were in control of the chaos.”

“And as happy as your mother and I were when you were born, Harry,” James added, “we simply couldn’t match the feeling we had at school. When you were born, you were a target, we were targets, so we couldn’t truly be happy when we were always afraid.”

“Unless, of course, you're me,” Sirius said, sprawling on an invisible surface in that dramatic way of his. “Away from my parents? Check. With my best friends? Check. A new godson to fashion into a mini-me? Double check.”

Harry laughed, the students around him joining in. Even McGonagall chuckled from her nearby post where she could hear.

“I was the happiest I had ever been that Halloween morning, Harry,” Sirius continued. “Leaving that house, thinking you were all safe, knowing that I finally had a family of my own. That was the happiest moment of my life.”

Hermione smiled, tears in her eyes, as Harry grinned, sitting taller and prouder. Minerva looked away, hiding her own smile, and took a deep breath.

Everything is going to be okay.

This time when she said it, she believed it.

Mars. Mars I swear to god if E is short for Ethan. Mars. Answer me.

Edit I made of me and that boy

(I think we’ll just call him E for now🤭)

i want a fanfic about seamus' parents, how they met and fell in love, his response to her being a witch (i mean we know it was a nasty shock but i need moooooreeeee)

im kinda surprised we aren't taking inspiration from golden trio era kids parents. im not saying put them all in the same year or that u have to have an expanded storyline for like mrs patil or something but there are so many kids that are pure/half blood when harrys at school so where are their parents in ur fics. even just as filler. seamus' mum, pansy parkinson's parents, literally anyone. sometimes i feel like people think we've "peaked" in terms of fandom so there's no use bothering in incorporating more characters that would actually be there when there's so much more that u could explore

ᯓ★

I’m gonna smack you if you don’t stop

hehe nah man you're probably too short to reach

decided to subject you all to my mind. and my mind has a lot of feelings about adrien and plagg in real-cat!plagg au.

plagg adopted adrien, not the other way around

(sequel to this post)