The Love of Family

McGonagall is standing in her office, lighting a candle.

This is her nightly routine, one she has followed for over sixty years, and one she will continue for decades more.

This is the Watch, with a capital W.

She wraps her tartan shawl- tattered and torn and patched together again- around her thin arms, settles her hat securely, and makes her way out of the Headmistress office. This is the beginning of the Guard.

McGonagall has walked these halls every night since the afternoon she got a letter from a frantic Susan Bones, begging Minerva to please come to the top tower tonight, Professor, this is really important.

She would have never believed how important it really would become.

She sweeps down the stairs; the sentry begins in the dungeons. Filch watches her; he has never understood why Minerva stalks the halls of Hogwarts late at night. Every professor- and student- know of her nocturnal habits, but only two former students understand why.

Minerva wears the same robes every night, too. The exact same outfit she wore many years ago, when young Susan Bones delivered a bruised and brittle Graham Pritchard.

Bruised, brittle, but not broken. Never broken.

Those grey robes of Minerva's has two huge splotches on them. Two stains from tears of the saviour and of the survivor, shame and confusion and anger. These splotches have grown over the years, fed by the sadness and fears of other students that Minerva has found on the Watch.

Because so long as Minerva McGonagall walks these halls, demons will not trespass, and angels will not fall into the vicious cycle of betrayed and betrayer. Not while she still walks.

As she makes her way through the first floor, Minerva remembers.

Are you alright, Graham?

I- I don't know, Professor.

Minerva had not known what to do then. A short, stubby little Slytherin boy, bloodied and forced to grow up a little too fast, stood before her, confused. Hurt. Angry.

It was Susan Bones, in the end, who took control. He will be, Professor McGonagall. I'll take care of him.

And when Minerva had asked her Susan would help a stranger, Susan had merely shrugged. That's what families do, Professor. Stick together, that is.

She didn't understand then, why Graham had held it in for so long, but she went along with it.

Graham was the first of many, and Minerva marveled at what the pretty little Hufflepuff girl had the absolute nerve to do.

She brought Zacharias Smith to trial, and ripped the top off the cauldron of an issue that adults had been trying to ignore and do away with for years. The neglect of children. Susan Marie Bones, Hufflepuff and no-one in particular, made sure everyone was held accountable for it. She held Graham's hand through months of trials, and stood by him through the jeers of his family and the veiled insults and accusations of his class-mates. It is because of Susan that the myth of the Gentle Hufflepuff has been destroyed. Well, because of Susan's fist and one particularly mouthy Gryffindor who just couldn't keep his jaw closed.

The Gryffindor had called Graham a weak little pouf.

Susan had merely punched him in the jaw. When the Gryffindor came to, Minerva had merely said No Hogsmeade trips from here until eternity, and detention until the end of term.

It was then, perhaps, that Minerva began to understand how hard it was for Graham to confess the sins of another, for they painted him as well.

As she starts climbing the stairs to the second floor, Minerva recalls the event that let her see just how important the Susan Bones's of the world are.

Susan accompanied Graham as often as it was humanly possible. They took their meals together- sometimes with Minerva, sometimes alone when it was all just too much- but more importantly, they just spent time together. Sometimes talking, sometimes silent, but Susan was always there. Understanding, protecting, watching over Graham. She even brought Graham back with her on holidays, to the ancestral home of Bones, to show him what a real family was like. Minerva, distantly related through marriage, stumbled across Susan and Graham one cold January morning, when they went to visit Susan's aunt, Amelia, at her grave.

This is my auntie Amelia, Graham, Susan had said. She's the one who made sure I could come help you.

Graham had stood for a while, thinking. Susan had sat on the ground, fingering the cold, frost-laden blades of grass, contemplating the future.

Then Graham had bent over and pressed his thin lips on Amelia's grave. Thank you, Auntie.

And at long last, Minerva understood.

It has been many years since that fateful night when Susan Bones dared flout societal niceties. War has come and gone, and Minerva has lost brother, sister and child to the unrelenting hand of Death. This is a new epoch of time- peace flourishes- but Minerva has never relinquished the Watch.

When Minerva shuffles off this mortal coil, she is content to know that there will be someone else to pick up the standard and carry on with the battle. Susan Bones has raised an army, of a new kind- moral soldiers who seek out and destroy the daemons who would despoil and destroy the youth. She works tirelessly now in the newly-created Abuse sector of the Ministry of Magic. Susan, for her part, has conquered the devils of her youth and now campaigns against abuse- child abuse, wife abuse, husband abuse- all kinds. She is relentless, and has constantly challenged the Ministry to throw away the old, shadowy views on such things. As long as Susan Bones lives, the devil is at bay, and the Dark will not be victorious.

Graham has married. He has a beautiful wife and four children, and though he still fights his fears- that he will be like Zacharias, that he will fail and fall- he has not yet, and he will not. He has his family now, and he is just as responsible for bringing about the destruction of an old standard of living in secrecy in the Wizarding World. Susan may be the Champion, but Graham has succeeded because he never once was a victim- he was a survivor, and today, Graham lives. With the pain, with the memories, but also with great joy and love and happiness, and in this, the Devil has lost his case.

When Minerva departs this adventure for the Great Beyond, she will go knowing that someone will be there to pick up the torch and continue the cause. But Minerva still lives, and the Watch has many hours yet.

Minerva passes by many rooms, and many of them carry memories of the past. Hollow-eyed children, scared, needing to talk but suffering in silence for fear of retribution. There will always be a child who needs to know that they are not beyond salvation, and so long as Minerva breathes, she will be there to save them. No one is left behind, if she has to drag them, kicking and screaming, towards the truth.

If they cannot speak, Minerva will be the voice. And if they cannot see, Minerva will be their eyes. She does not suffer the silence and pain of innocents any longer. No Devil will pass through her doorway, not while Minerva calls Hogwarts her home, and the students, her children.

Albus would be proud of her.

Just as proud of her as she is of Susan and Graham, and of the hundreds of other students she has counseled in the decades that have passed since a small Hufflepuff girl took a stand and screamed defiance in the face of the maws of Evil: You can't have them, and I won't let you.

Bruised, tattered, torn. Brittle, frail, unsure, dark. Fractured little angels.

But not broken.

Never broken.

Her children are not broken, and Minerva will be damned if she lets anyone- fallen angel or mere mortal- break them.

Her stride never breaks unless she hears some muffled noise. Most students harbour slight resentment towards Minerva for her late-night prowling, not knowing why she still stalks the halls of Hogwarts at night, an aging lioness on her stomping ground.

Minerva doesn't expect those who have never been touched by the Devil to understand. She hopes they never have to understand, either.

Throughout the years, Minerva has seen much. Death, birth, love and heartbreak, joy and sorrow. Her now-gnarled and veined hands have held many-a child through the torture of confession, and she has seen the destruction of innocence, over and over, at the hands of an unmerciful abuser.

But she has also seen the redemption of the abused, and held them through their salvation, and the sudden clarity of it's not your fault. You'll get through this. I have faith in you.

Faith had never meant so much to Minerva until the day she watch Graham get married, Susan beaming proudly at his side. She never understand what it meant to have faith beyond the darkness, beyond all hope, until Graham presented her proudly with his firstborn and told Minerva that they- he and his wife- had named the child Susan Minerva. After the two women who saved me.

Graham has won that war, and now Minerva lives to ensure others will survive and flourish beyond the battlefronts of their own life.

Midnight is coming soon, and Minerva knows she will have to retire. She's not as spry as she used to be, but she stubbornly continues to make the final hours of her round. Nothing will stop her from guarding her home, her children- nothing will stop her from keeping the darkness at her doorstep.

Years from now, when she approaches the Gates of Heaven, she's sure the guardians of that doorstep- whomever they are- will ask her, Why?

Once upon a time, she wouldn't have known what to say. How does someone sum up their point in life- a life marked by war, battle, blood, death- in a few words?

But now, Minerva knows.

And when she approaches those pearly gates, she knows exactly what she will say.

She will say, because that's just what a family does.