Life, in a Nutshell

I clipped her obituary from The Daily Prophet, and I keep it with me at all times. Occasionally I like to read it, though I know it by heart by now. It is a summary of her life tidy and short enough to fit in a nutshell, but it doesn't even begin to tell the truth.

Margaret Guinevere McGonagall - born September 1, 1957, died May 31, 1981 - daughter of Hogwarts Professor Minerva McGonagall - Gryffindor Prefect, Head Girl, Quidditch Keeper - Casualty of War.

When she was three, Maggie was fascinated by the concept of sex. In her grandfather's library she had found a chapter on the subject on a book on human anatomy and physiology. Duncan McGonagall was enchanted by his young granddaughter and let her have the run of the castle while she and her mother lived there, including access to every book in the manor.

Her mother Minerva however was horrified when she found her three-year-old playing that her dolls were having sex.

"Margaret Guinevere McGonagall!" she exclaimed, "What are you doing?"

Maggie had explained patiently and showed her mother the book, but Minerva didn't seem to understand. Scowling, she scooped up her daughter and went downstairs to scold her father for letting little Maggie get a hold of such an advanced book.

She told me this story one night as we lay in bed. I laughed. Professor McGonagall had showed me Maggie's baby pictures, and I could picture the little girl with huge green eyes reading a textbook at age three.

"What?" she asked defensively, "I was trying to get an idea of how it all worked."

I kissed her on the nose. "Well, I don't think we need your dolls to demonstrate anymore."

Maggie covered her nose with her hand (she always hated its pointed prominence on her face) but laughed.

I had loved Maggie McGonagall from the time I was thirteen and she was fourteen. While we were friends throughout Hogwarts, she treated my crush on her as something to ignore until it was replaced by a more suitable crush on a nice girl my own age However I persevered and enjoyed our friendship, so different from my friendship with the Marauders and Lily.

After she graduated, she left to travel around Eastern Europe and Asia to get first-hand experience, and though we wrote every few weeks I didn't see her for two years until she returned to join the Order properly. We met for lunch shortly after her return, and we wound up talking until dinner. From then on we were once again very close, and soon we began the romantic relationship that I had pursued back at school. At the time I believe that we would be together forever.

Before long we were living together in a flat in London, and between assignments for the Order we would spend days in bed together. Neither of us could cook, but Maggie had family money and insisted on ordering in food and then eating it in bed. She fussed over me endlessly and ordered at least twice as much food as I would have. We were eating fish and chips from the Leaky Cauldron one evening after Maggie had been gone for a week on some mysterious assignment for Professor Dumbledore when the war came in and broke up our perfect, happy bubble.

We were lying around eating when suddenly Maggie went rigid and started convulsing. She fell of the bed, shaking and mumbling gibberish. I screamed. I didn't know what to do or to whom to turn, so I held her under the convulsions stopped.

"Shhh, shhh, it's okay Maggie," I whispered.

"Get Albus. And my mother," Maggie whispered before losing consciousness.

They came almost at once, Minerva McGonagall in her tartan robe and Albus Dumbledore still dressed for the day in purple. They both hurried over and checked on her, and then Professor Dumbledore took me by the shoulder and took me for a walk down to the local pub.

There, over two pints, he told me about Maggie's recent assignment. When Minerva was a student at Hogwarts, she met a young wizard. He was a few years behind her and was quite taken with the older girl though she considered him to be too young for her. His pursuit of Minerva did not limit itself to Hogwarts, unfortunately, and he followed her for the next several years all the while she rejected his advances. Finally he gained in power and attacked Minerva in her sleep in the form of an incubus. Unknowingly to this wizard, however, he impregnated Minerva, and Maggie was born.

"That wizard," Albus Dumbledore said, "was named Tom Riddle, though you and rest of the world know him now as Lord Voldemort."

I stared at Albus in shock.

"I know that this must be a shock for you Remus," Dumbledore said. "Minerva wanted to keep this a secret, and she did. She didn't even tell me until recently. Maggie started having blackouts and memory lapses, and we believe that Voldemort found out that Maggie is his daughter. Through that bond he can enter her mind and control her actions using complex blood magic.

"I have been trying to help her learn how to reject and break the connection, but it is more difficult than I had anticipated," Dumbledore told me. He went on to give more details about the spells used and so on, but I wasn't paying attention. My mind was too busy trying to comprehend what he had told me.

When I went home that evening, I found Maggie lying in bed with her eyes closed. Her mother had left, but I saw signs that Minerva McGonagall had tidied up around our flat. The noise of shutting the door seemed to wake up Maggie.

"Hi."

"Hello Dear."

"Did Albus tell you everything?" Fear made her voice quaver uncharacteristically.

"Yes."

"Do you - I mean, I are you going to - are you going to leave me now?" she asked haltingly.

The words fell out of my mouth before my brain could respond. "Of course not."

"But what about the danger to you? You're being silly," she scolded. "Everyone else would agree that you should leave me alone."

"I don't tend to worry about the things that other people say," I assured Maggie gently. I wrapped my arm around her and kissed her forehead. "I wouldn't want it any other way."

"Now you're just being ridiculous," she said.

"It's who you are, and I love every bit of you," I insisted as I lay down in bed next to her.

It was a sign of her desperation for acceptance, exhaustion, and love for me that she didn't argue further. Unfortunately that wasn't the end of it.

As Voldemort grew in power, so did the frequency and intensity of her attacks. Sometimes they manifested themselves violently with seizures, but more dangerous were the times when she would merely stare glassy-eyed into nothing because those were the times when he almost broken into her mind. But he couldn't complete the spell without a physical part of her. I grew absurdly possessive of her nail clippings, clothing, and stray strands of hair, anything that could be used against her. At night I burned the strands of hair that I pulled from her hairbrush as Professor Dumbledore had instructed me. During the day I bought ingredients and helped her brew potions designed to close off her mind, but nothing could block him completely.

I couldn't bring myself to confide in my friends about this. I simply told them that Maggie and I were working on a secret assignment from Dumbledore and wasn't allowed to speak of it. It wasn't that I didn't trust them, but that I was afraid of what they would say. I was afraid that they would think I was weak for holding onto the hope that everything would miraculously be all right with evidence only to the contrary. And I was even more afraid that I would be swayed by their arguments.

Eventually though Dumbledore summoned Sirius and James to help us when the two of us had reached a dead end. As I had expected, they were both horrified to learn the truth and to learn that I was still living with her.

"Have you lost your mind?" he exploded when I answered the door one day to find him and James on my doorstep. Maggie was gone that day at St. Mungo's being treated for the effects of the poisons we had been giving her.

"What?"

"Oh don't play confused and innocent Moony with me," Sirius said as he pushed past me into the flat. James followed him in and secured to door shut.

"Dumbledore told us about Maggie," James said simply. "He sent us to help you."

"We're doing fine on our own," I lied.

"You look terrible, as though you haven't slept in months," James said.

"All right," I conceded, "we're doing terribly. What are you here to help me with? This isn't exactly your area of expertise."

They exchanged a look, rich with meaning due to their many years of friendship that even I couldn't fully decipher. James cleared his throat. "We're here to convince you of the only option left. Keep in mind that we aren't the only ones who think this. Dumbledore does too."

Sirius took over from James. "Basically, you have to kill her."

I actually fell over with surprise and landed on the floor. My mouth moved soundlessly for a second as I tried to remember how to speak. "What!" I shouted as soon as my voice had returned.

"It's not working. There's nothing that can be done to slow Voldemort's progression into her mind, and when he gets in, it will mean the end of the Order," James reasoned.

"How could you suggest such a thing? Maggie means the world to me," I exploded.

"You're blinded by your emotions," Sirius argued. "Otherwise you would recognize that this is the only thing to be done. He will destroy her after sucking our secrets from her mind. All we can do is kill her first, spare her from that misery."

"Dumbledore agrees with us. It was his idea," James said.

We stared at each other, I as stubborn and immoveable as I could manage while my mind twisted in indecision.

"Stop being so stubborn and crazy. This is for your own good," Sirius snapped.

"Call me crazy," I told Sirius, "but it really doesn't matter. All that matters to me is she."

He snorted.

"She didn't turn away from me when she learned that I'm a werewolf, and neither did you two. Why should we turn from her now?"

"That was a totally different situation, Moony," James argued. "You weren't a danger to us, and she is. What happens when Voldemort breaks into her mind and is in complete control of her? You'll probably be her first victim, and I guarantee that she won't show any mercy to you then."

I couldn't stay and listen to them any longer. I turned and marched into the bedroom, slamming the door behind me to think in peace. I sat there all day watching the sun set and the room fill with shadows and darkness. Outside James and Sirius spoke in whispers and made sandwiches to wait for my response.

When I returned, I couldn't look at them. I just nodded.

I honestly don't remember much of our last night together. I remember cooking her dinner and slipping the sleeping potion into it. It was mild enough that any post mortem examination of her (which her mother was sure to order) would miss it. At the time our efficiency and skill in killing her frightened me. Our plan was flawless and easy. That wasn't how murder was supposed to be. It was supposed to be complicated and wrought with perils.

At dinner she looked at me through eyes still muddled with the daily potions to slow her mind. I didn't bother trying to maintain normal conversations and flirtations with her. Even when I tried to pretend that everything was normal and fine, her dull face and fatigue proved otherwise. She was like the living dead, and I remember thinking that I was doing this for her own good. She was miserable living like this and would have ended it herself if her mind had been intact.

Or so I wanted to believe.

After dinner, I tucked her into bed, and as I was leaving to do the dishes, she grabbed my wrist in her hand.

"I love you Remus."

"I love you too Maggie," I said in a voice barely above a whisper, "good night."

The funeral was sparsely attended. I stood between Albus Dumbledore and Maggie's best friend Miranda St. John who looked like she wanted to punch me in the face. She too was in the Order, and I suspected that she knew my involvement in Maggie's death, though she and I never spoke of it in the few months before she too died. Next to Miranda stood Minerva McGonagall whose face was hidden beneath a large black hat and who had refused to speak to anyone present. As the minister gave paltry words of comfort, I felt my mind wandering.

All I could think about was my first week at Hogwarts. I spent that week slinking around the edges and trying not to make enemies; however, all I managed to do was make myself invisible. While running to Potions one afternoon, someone pushed me, and I fell down the stairs. The hoard of students around me just moved on, and I felt myself start to cry.

"Are you okay?"

And there was Maggie, a beautiful Gryffindor second-year bending down to help collect my books and give me a hand. She smiled at me, and only her tenderness stopped me from bawling my eyes out.

"Hi, I'm Maggie."

"Remus Lupin."

"You're a first year, right? I saw you at the Sorting."

I nodded. Perhaps she noticed my chin quivering because she added, "Don't cry, Remus. It's all right. Hogwarts is a big and scary place, but it gets better. I promise, you'll get used to things around here soon."

She walked me to my next class, and when that lesson ended, she was waiting outside to walk me to dinner, to sit with me, and to be my friend.