The Marauder Monologues

MINERVA McGONAGALL: "All Grown Up"

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is my home. That is the simple fact of my life. I am the Deputy Headmistress, Head of Gryffindor House, and Transfiguration teacher. When Albus was installed as Headmaster after Professor Dippet's retirement, I was hired to take over his position as Transfiguration teacher, though I was quite young then.

Over the years, I have come to respect Albus Dumbledore more than any other witch or wizard I have ever met. He is undoubtedly the wisest, most considerate, most levelheaded man to walk the earth - at least in our time. And I do feel that we all missed out on a great occasion when Albus refused to step in as Minister of Magic, but he never wanted that kind of power. He has always wanted to teach - to be with the children. He claims it keeps him young.

I admire Albus greatly - and I understand his desire to remain at Hogwarts. I feel it too.

Of course, I would never let my students guess this. I try to present to them the image I feel they need to learn to respect and obey: authority. There is always someone more important than oneself, and students would do well to learn this. However, I also wish to impress upon them the importance of learning, punctuality, and scholarship. I do not fool myself: I know that most students do not acknowledge or even really care about these qualities, but while I they are in my class, they will be subjected to them. I believe this is a sound idea.

Once in a while, however, I come across students who truly make an impression upon me. Young Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger have done so. Miss Granger is definitely the best student, perhaps the most dedicated I have ever had in my class, but all three of them embody everything I could envision in a Gryffindor - except, perhaps, their tendency towards gratuitous rule-breaking. But I remember a few more students like them quite clearly, though they are all grown up now.

Potter's father - James. Sirius Black. Remus Lupin. Peter Pettigrew. Lily Evans. Those children tested my patience more than a few times, but they made teaching well worth my while. All except for Pettigrew picked up on the lessons quite quickly and put them to good use - Potter and Evans were Head Boy and Girl, an excellent reflection upon Gryffindor House. Potter and Black starred on the Quidditch team, Evans was such a studious young woman, Lupin and Pettigrew were so conscientious.

I will not deny that there were times I thought that if Dumbledore did not punish them in some way, I would find a more creative way to do so. When Black's aim was off Pettigrew and instead hit me with a Jabbering Hex, and I couldn't say the words to the counter-hex, I thought I would wring his neck. Pettigrew was forever handing in assignments late or ruining the subjects of our transfiguration experiments. Each of them cost us quite a few points in Professor Erickson's Potions class, though I suspect that was more because Erickson was Head of Slytherin House in those days. And I began to wonder if there were ever any nights they actually remained in their beds and slept, because it seemed every time I turned around they were prowling the school past curfew.

I was stern with them - I made sure they understood the consequences of their actions, and yet they were always rewarded for their many accomplishments. They were quite good at transfiguration, I remember. I remember much about them, even to this day. Sometimes I recall it the most strongly when I see Harry Potter in my classes...

Young Potter may never know the truth about his parents' lives - may never know much of anything about them. People can tell him that he plays Quidditch like his father, that he has his mother's eyes, and yet how will they explain to him that they were two of the kindest, bravest, most dedicated people I ever met? How will they tell him that the staff watched them fall in love, and we all sighed every time we saw them holding hands because it reminded us of how we always imagined love to be? How will anyone tell him how to accept or avenge their betrayals, their deaths?

He does not know that I once thought that if I ever had children, I would want them to be like Potter and Evans - only perhaps a little less enthusiastic about sneaking out of their beds at night. He has no idea that I was in attendance at their wedding, that I was one of the many who held him as a baby and wished him well at his Naming Ceremony, or that at their funeral I cried so hard I could not see.

I have watched generations of children grow up. I saw Frank Longbottom sorted into Gryffindor House; I was there at the trial where Barty Crouch, Jr., and his cohorts were sentenced to life terms in Azkaban for the use of the Cruciatus Curse on Frank and his wife. Now their son Neville is in my House.

I saw Lupin grow to a proud, intelligent man, despite his debilitating condition. I saw him befriended and subsequently drawn out of his self-imposed isolation. Years later, he was my colleague, but only for one year. His casual approach to learning was the same as when he was the student.

I saw Pettigrew, and I have never forgiven myself for being so harsh on him. There were times when I wondered how on earth he was sorted into Gryffindor House, but he proved himself worthier than all of us when he attempted to corner Black after the Potters' murders. He was braver than all of us...

I saw Black - how many times had I told him, in half-mocking hopelessness, that if he continued to break rules so recklessly he would end up in Azkaban? And he did... To this day, I can hardly believe that he could be so heartless, that he could turn on his friend so quickly and cunningly, and that he could hide his true loyalties so well. Didn't I work just as closely with the Order of the Phoenix? And none of us knew. His escape now unnerves me, mostly for young Potter's sake, but something else nags at me - if he wanted to destroy Harry, certainly he had the chance when he was on the grounds at Hogwarts. Why did he not do it then? And strangely, I feel he will not do it now, either.

I saw young Harry Potter left on the doorstep of his Muggle relatives' house: I watched in horror as Albus left him there. The Muggles would not even come to Lily and James's funeral. Harry was not there.

I remember it, though. It sticks in my mind like a bad dream. All of us wearing black, sobbing at the loss of our friends, who died heroes' deaths. After the first few moments, I could hardly see. And Lupin was sitting alone, as all of his friends were gone: three dead, one going to trial the next day.

I remember Black's trial, too, brief though it was. I remember how he was sentenced, and afterwards Lupin disappeared for years. The Order was dissolved. There was no real need for it, Albus said; the Ministry's Aurors could handle the cleaning up of the last Death Eaters from there, now that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was gone. But I knew he was beyond disturbed at the loss of five of its members in one fell swoop.

I have two distinct memories of the occasions: one of a convening of the Order of the Phoenix, where we all met in Albus's office, laughing and teasing, discussing Alastor Moody's defeat of Evan Rosier. Lily and James were married then; Lily was pregnant, I believe. Everyone was so happy - even though times were still dark and we were still working round the clock to attempt to bring in Death Eaters, we still found a moment to be happy.

Then I remember the Potters' funeral, the absence of Pettigrew and Black, the blank stare on Lupin's face as he sat alone. I remember wiping my eyes in vain, but I could not see any of those students whom I loved so well - students whom I'd watched grow up. They were all grown up - they were all gone.

That was the time that being so close to young people made me feel so old.