Post by Deleted on Jun 25, 2013 0:49:35 GMT -5
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What lunacy urged her to ever leave the warm sanctity of her First Floor abode Minerva McGonagall couldn’t truly say, yet here she strode, muttering into the castle’s dark, with the occasionally grimace and sharp intake of breath, as the cold danced across the wounds on her back. She had recovered from the werewolf’s slashes and bore them without much complaint,in true Minerva fashion, yet the full moon bowed even the strongest wills of those afflicted by the accursed marks of the beast. Perhaps that was the reason for her late night stroll; a distraction till the pains passed. Bugger distractions, I’ve left my warm fireside behind for this. The Deputy Headmistress continued her journey nonetheless, willed on by a sudden spark of ingenuity. It had been the only time in days she had recalled memories of the horrid siege of Hogsmeade, and its implications. One may assume Minerva McGonagall was in denial; blocking out the reality of what happened and what was happening right outside the very walls of Hogwarts' stronghold. Yet this was not so. She had had more than her fill of the reality outside these walls, and was simply taking a moment to find peace of mind and preserve sanity to face the days ahead. Tonight, however, the images that sprang to mind of the Siege were those of her treasured students. The likes of Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter, still running in furious silence through her thoughts, the looks of hardened young adults gracing their entire being in the heat of battle rocking Minerva to her very core. They were no longer meek students safely tucked inside Hogwarts' bosom. Reality had reached into the castle to seize the hearts and minds of every inhabitant in some way. Shielding the young and innocent was no longer practical or sensible. They needed to be protected by the weapons and shields of knowledge their professors alone could provide. With this resolution at hand, Minerva now strode down the corridor, bent on kindling and nurturing the small flame that wretched Umbridge woman sought to stamp out not so long ago. Why had she not thought to do this sooner? Minerva slowed her pace on the floor, approaching her destination. The pain sprang up once more then, wracking her wounds once more. With a ragged sigh the aged witch leaned forward and placed her head against the great granite torch bowl before her, warmed from the flames licking gleefully within it, casting dancing shadows across the hall. She inhaled and bore the pain till it slipped away, relishing the smell of rock and cinder drifting across her nostrils. Pushing back upright, Minerva took a step forward, first a hint of a shoe under a flourshing robe, then another, and another, then replaced by a small furry paw, and another. In the first month after receiving the wounds, Minerva discovered them to be more bearable in her Animagus state. For this reason, the rare sight of the silver tabby cat streaking down a Hogwarts corridor was now visible to anyone out and about after hours. Her age seemed to be irrelevant in the Animagus state, and she remained as nimble a feline as she was when she first transformed under Dumbledore's tutelage, so many decades ago. Now, as then, Minerva casually strolled up and down the 7th floor corridor, parallel to a vast expanse of bare rock wall, seemingly wating for something. Though she always felt a strong connection with the castle, that she now strongly believed to be much more than an inanimate building, the Room of Requirement gave her as much difficulty to be summoned as any other who knew of its existence. She knew it to be the meeting place of the gang of students formerly called Dumbledore's Army, and she now sought to inspect their previous training quarters within the Room, and determine how to advance from there. In her youth, Minerva, in tabby cat form, would take up this same pace, willing the Room to appear for entirely different reasons. At the sound of movement down the corridor, Minerva suddenly freezes, then darts behind the large granite torch bowl, forgetting she is no longer a student. The sillyness of what she just did strikes her, and she chuckles to herself. Or would chuckle if she were in human form, but merely comes up with an odd choking sound, not unlike a cat bringing up a hairball. Her tail twitches in revulsion at the odd sound, and she primly shakes her furry head and turns her attention back to the noise up the way. Light, skipping footsteps, and a distorted shadow magnified on the opposite wall tell her a student, perhaps two, are out of bed. Her initial reaction is prim disapproval, gazing sternly at the shadow of the detention bound student, reducing in size as it comes closer. However, this disapproval gives way to thoughtful reflection, and almost gentle amusement, as she realizes that, even with all the evil and terror hanging in the night beyond the walls, the students still risk punishment to run about on whims for sneaky pranks, romances, dares, and all the other youthful follies one expected in brighter days past. A small comfort to the old witch, currently crouching pretending to be a cat to escape battle scars. At last the late nighter revealed herself in the firelight, seeming to slow at the very spot Minerva was lurking about only moments before. Her exasperation at the new comer could not be conveyed in cat form, as she recognized young Lovegood from Ravenclaw. What that dreamy eyed whisp of a girl was doing up here so late was far beyond the Deputy Headmistress. Perhaps she was sent here as a prank, or on another neverending quest to find her possessions, hidden from her by other students. Minerva felt a slight touch of sympathy for the girl then, recalling that, despite her seeming air-headedness, she was ever a polite and humble student, and a loyal friend and ally to Potter. If cats could roll their eyes, the silver tabby behind Luna would be doing just that as Minerva reluctantly reverted to her normal state to find out what would undoubtedly be a ludicrous and bizaare explanation. "And just what are you doing down this corridor so late, Ms Lovegood? I believe if Ravenclaw dormitories were moved, I would have been told. As I haven't, please do enlighten me." |
Loony Lovegood | 1075| NOTES
