Harry Potter and the Simulacrum Seal

Chapter Five: Minerva's Day

The walls were made of old, immaculately polished dark wood that made the room feel small and shadowy, crowded and stifling. The sixteen others in the room with Minerva McGonagall looked uncomfortable enough that she could believe they felt the same. Hagrid's girth was no help at all.

She stood at the front of the room, near the door, and felt the urge to open it, if only to let some air in. Yet these were, specifically, closed door proceedings, as outlined in the Code, so the door stayed shut. An idle thought crossed her mind: This is just the sort of room these board members would love. Rich. Imperious. Uninviting. She looked to Hagrid, sitting on three chairs at the back of the room, next to the lip-chewing Pomona Sprout, who herself was next to the short and fidgety Filius Flitwick, who was to the right of the flushed Horace Slughorn. Or maybe not. Even Horace doesn't like it in here.

The governors were looking at her expectantly from their plush chairs around their heavy table; she cleared her throat and straightened her hat. 'A good day to you all,' she said.

Tiberius Ogden's chair squeaked as he pushed it back and stood. 'Good day to you, Professor,' he said, sounding as though he was saying something very important instead of a how-do-you-do, but that was the way it always was with Tiberius. Minerva did not think him arrogant, exactly; it was just that he spoke the way many old-time politicians did, the timbre of his voice ever-changing, pauses in just the right places to keep suspense, and thereby attention. 'Or, rather, Headmistress. My apologies.' He bowed his head.

'That is quite all right, Tiberius,' Minerva replied stiffly.

'I would like to say,' he continued, in that way of his that seemed as though he was not quite interrupting, 'that you have done a marvellous job of keeping things together since the tragic loss of Albus Dumbledore.'

Minerva had not thought of it as tragic for nearly two weeks. She knew that Albus would not think it so. 'We all give you our sincerest gratitude,' he continued.

'Hear hear!' It was Octave Toothill, a round and jolly old man. It was impossible to get anything but nonsense out of him.

The others responded with a 'Hear hear!' and Minerva gave a curt nod. She wanted to get this over with, not spend an hour listening to everyone congratulate each other, so she decided to continue before Tiberius could get on a roll.

'I want you all to know that I've given a lot of thought to what my recommendation should be regarding whether or not Hogwarts should close,' Minerva said. 'The final decision rests with you, naturally, but I hope you will consent to listen to my colleagues and myself as we present our case.'

'Of course, Minerva,' Tiberius replied, as though a question had been asked. 'Pray continue.'

She did so without delay. 'Despite the presence of Albus Dumbledore and of a team of Aurors, not only were there several attempts at murder at or near Hogwarts perpetrated on Hogwarts students, but Death Eaters, with the help of a student and one of our own staff, managed to breach the castle's defences.'

The governors looked to each other with meaningful expressions, clearly sure of what the rest of her message would bring and already organizing voting blocs. She cleared her throat loudly, and most of them turned their attention back to her, though they appeared unconvinced that it was worthwhile to do so.

'It may seem that, with Mr Snape and Mr Malfoy departed from Hogwarts for as long as I draw breath, the greatest weapons against Hogwarts have been removed.' A chorus of dissenting voices interrupted; with the same glare she perfected in the classroom, she made them silent. 'Yet, with the murder of Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts has also lost her greatest protector. And while more enemies may come out of the woodwork at any moment from the ranks of our own students and even our staff, a protector like Albus cannot be replaced so easily.'

'Indeed not!'

'I quite agree!'

'Hear hear!'

'So,' she said sharply, 'I cannot, in good conscience, say that Hogwarts is a safe place for parents to send their children.'

This time it was Hagrid who interrupted in protest. 'Professor -'

'Headmistress, Hagrid,' she reminded him, speaking over top of him with little effort, for though his voice was louder, hers had more training in gaining attention. 'Please let me finish. Hogwarts is not a safe place for children, but are their homes any safer? I do not think they are. We find ourselves in a quandary, for the safety of children is our most sacred business, but neither of the two roads facing us will provide them with that safety. I cannot recommend that Hogwarts reopen next year ...' She waited a moment, expecting protest, but the room was still. 'But nor can I recommend that children wait in their homes to die. What would have become of Hannah Abbott without Hogwarts last year? Would she have been killed along with her mother?'

Minerva took a deep breath to steady herself; she was becoming too passionate for her health. Her heart beat frantically in her chest. Calm, Minerva, calm. 'I think,' she continued, 'that we must find ourselves another option. This cannot be a question of keeping children in an unsafe school and keeping them in unsafe homes. Parents must have other options if they are not to go mad.'

'What other option is there?' Mathias Ellerby asked, glaring at her behind bushy eyebrows and a bulldog's face. 'We cannot protect the children; we cannot even protect ourselves! Better for them to be getting an education while in mortal danger than sitting around with nothing constructive to do!'

'Wonderful idea, Ellerby!' Keddle replied, sneering. 'Let's put all the children in one place to be abducted and held ransom to keep their parents as slaves!'

'Both arguments are valid,' McGonagall acknowledged, 'but they are based upon a false dilemma. It is not a question of children being targets at Hogwarts or targets at home. There is another option that I beg the board to consider.'

McGonagall's eyes raised to look into Hagrid's. With a glum, resigned look on his face, he stomped up to the front of the room, squeezing by the board members, and took centre stage.

'Right,' he grumbled, facing the blatantly curious and sceptical school governors. 'Here's what we got fer yeh.'

***

'Madness ...'

'It's never been done before ... not even before ...'

'The parents will never agree ...'

'... not compulsory ...'

Minerva squeezed her brow between her fingers, feeling the full force of a headache built from hours of arguing, shouting and bargaining with the governors. It's done, she reminded herself forcefully. Albus would be proud. Her face looked pained, and not entirely due to the headache. Wouldn't he be? Will he be?

The echo of her footsteps in the silent hall did nothing to soothe her nerves. It was strange for Hogwarts to be so empty. True enough, there were no students there during the summer, but usually some painting or ghost or Peeves was causing trouble. She stopped walking and listened, but could hear nothing above or below; never in all her years at Hogwarts had the castle been so still. The paintings were motionless, almost Muggle.

A chill ran up Minerva's spine, as though someone had stepped on her grave. It seemed as though there was something eerie in the walls that she had never felt before, that had always been too masked by action and noise to be noticed. A breeze hit her face softly from out of nowhere, cold like a ghost passing through, but feeling horribly, terribly wrong ...

'Headmistress?'

Minerva jumped. When she saw, or saw through, Nearly-Headless Nick, she clutched her frantically beating heart and let out a relieved breath. 'I'm too old for such shocks, you know,' she scolded.

'My apologies.' He bowed, his head flopping. His eyes gazed up at her from his bowed position with greater interest than she had ever seen on his face. Of course, the castle residents will want to know ...

He stood back up again, his look intense. 'I have been sent as an emissary by the other ghosts to ... well, not to accost you, exactly, but to humbly request any details ...?'

Her throat sore from speaking, she replied, in a raspy voice, 'Hogwarts will not be reopening this year.' All at once the paintings came alive again, only for their residents to flee their canvases after quick gasps, shouts, or jaw-drops of dismay to inform the rest of the castle.

Nearly-Headless Nick's mouth was open in shock; he tried to speak for several moments but was tongue-tied. 'I ... I ... why?'

Minerva looked through Nick's belly at a spot on the wall. 'There are reasons,' she said, swallowing. She felt as if she were trying to convince herself more than Nick. Night was falling, and the castle was darker than before. So many reasons, but it is hard nonetheless. She walked right through Nick, feeling the familiar shudder, and continued on to her office.

Nick was too flabbergasted to comment on her lack of etiquette, but he soon recovered and flew after her. Minerva walked faster. 'Headmistress!' he cried. 'How can this be? Surely you tried to convince the board -'

'I told them to close Hogwarts,' she replied, her pace increasing.

'You what?' Nick gaped. 'Why would you do such a thing?'

'I am the Headmistress of Hogwarts. My duty is to the children. They would not be safe here.'

'No less safe than anywhere else!' Nick sputtered, his voice ringing as he travelled through a suit of armour. 'Surely Dumbledore wouldn't have -'

Minerva stopped abruptly and made a quarter turn to face him. 'I have discussed this with the governors,' she said, her anger evident, 'and the decision has been made. Do not tell me what Albus would have wanted. You do not have that right.' With that, she turned back and strode forward, Nick floating at the spot where she left him.

***

She reached the gargoyles. Bobbing between them, his legs crossed and his expression more serious than Minerva had ever seen, was Peeves. 'Get out of the way, Peeves,' she said coldly.

'Is it true about Hogwarts?' he asked, his voice crackling.

Letting out a groan of frustration, she growled, 'If what you have heard is that Hogwarts will not be reopening to students, yes, it is true. Now leave. I'm not in the mood for your nonsense.'

She watched with suspicion as Peeves' bottom lip shook. His face took on a strange twinge as he bit his lip and let out a great, heaving, howling sob. 'Noooo!' he quivered in his high-pitched voice before grasping Minerva in a cold, tearful embrace.

Feeling as though the day couldn't possibly get any worse, she reached one hand up and patted him on the back, careful not to poke her hand through him too much. 'There, there,' she said faintly. He continued bawling, and she was beginning to get very cold from his touch. She shivered. 'Please, Peeves, stop.'

Peeves blew his nose on the collar of her robes; she rolled her eyes and backed away from him. 'That's quite enough.'

'You're heartless!' he accused, his face covered in tears. He flew through her and then up into the ceiling; she heard the sound of his unabated sobs above her as she spoke the password to the gargoyles and stepped onto the staircase.

The Headmistress' office, once covered in glittering trinkets, was comparatively barren now. Minerva hadn't made the time to completely transfer her belongings from her old office; even if she had, she knew it would not have been much better. Never again would it be as lively as when Albus had ...

Stop, she scolded herself. That's really quite enough. Minerva's eyes were drawn to the paintings, where she was shocked to see every single old headmaster and headmistress at full attention, staring down at her. Judging, she felt, refusing to turn her head to the spot on the wall occupied by Albus' portrait.

'Well?' Phineas Nigellus said, his painted nostrils flared. 'How did it go, then? Are we getting the brats back or are we out of work?'

'Phineas, please,' Dilys Derwent said sharply. His eyes turned toward Dilys and he pouted, crossing his arms.

'I have an announcement to make,' Minerva said loudly, though it was unnecessary in a room where the only sound was of ears perking up. 'Hogwarts will not be reopening for the coming school year.'

There was so much commotion from the portraits at the news that McGonagall had to cover her ears with her hands.

'How can this be?!'

'Why?'

'I'm sure you tried your best -'

'You should have told them that -'

After a minute, the voices began to fade; once the room was down to a few bellowing old Headmasters, one voice permeated the others. 'Excuse me,' Albus said. The magical quality to his voice that made it nearly impossible to interrupt him was not quite present after his death, but the memory of it was still fresh enough to cause quiet. 'Perhaps it would be possible for me to speak with Minerva alone?' Minerva nearly shuddered, and still did not turn to him.

'And why on earth should we allow that, Dumbledore?' Phineas Nigellus said, sneering. 'It's easy enough for you to tell us to take off, but some of us don't have portraits up in every wizarding building in Britain!'

'You can visit with one of the resident paintings or go home, Phineas,' Dumbledore replied, more of a command in his voice now than a request.

'You can't boss us around anymore, Dumbledore!' Phineas retorted. 'You're no better than the rest of us now!'

'For Ptolomy's sake, Phineas!' another Headmaster - Reggard, Minerva thought, though she wasn't sure - growled at Phineas. 'If anyone can fix this situation, it's Dumbledore! Let's leave him to it!' A loud mutter of agreement cycled through the other paintings, and Phineas, clearly realizing his defeat, gave Minerva one last glare before leaving. The others followed suit, minus the glare, until it was only Minerva and Albus himself. Taking a deep breath, she turned to face him.

Albus, his eyes alight behind his spectacles, smiled pleasantly down at her. 'You needn't look as though you're a child here for discipline, Minerva,' he said jovially. 'Why don't you take one of those sweets from the bowl on your desk? Sweets always helped calm me.'

'I'm all right, thank you,' she replied, standing stock still. She didn't like those sweets and he knew it.

'You never did like sweets much.' Albus shook his head in mock dismay. 'One of many differences between us.'

Minerva's shoulders tightened even further. 'I still keep them around for the children,' she offered, the conversation feeling increasingly morbid. 'I mean, I was going to keep them for the children.'

Albus was dead. Hogwarts was dead.

'What do you think I would have done in your place?' Albus asked her with a shrewd look she knew all to well on his face.

'I don't see how that matters!' she replied sharply, not in the mood for games. She walked to the Headmistress' chair - yes, the Headmistress' chair, she thought angrily - and flounced into it, looking away from Albus' portrait.

Even then, she could tell from the tone of his voice that he still thought he was saying something terribly clever. 'And why is that, might I ask?'

She turned back to him. 'Because I am Headmistress!' Her temper was roiling. It had not been a good day. Did she really need a dead friend, her best friend, telling her how disappointed he was in her? But he had always said Hogwarts might close, she reminded herself forcefully. Why would he disapprove now?

As these thoughts flew through her mind, Albus slowly smiled ear to ear. 'Wonderful!' he said, clapping his hands. 'That took a lot less time to get out of you than I had feared.'

She stared at him, confused. 'I don't understand your meaning.'

'You are Headmistress now,' Albus pointed out to her, 'and unless you ask me for advice, I ought to keep my thoughts on the matter to myself. All I am is a painted reflection of what I was. You will find that several of the other portraits tend to forget that about themselves. Perhaps I will also, in time.'

Minerva bit her lip. 'But Albus,' she said, her anger drained, staring down at her lap, 'I do want you to approve, I had my reasons -'

'Minerva, Minerva.' She looked up to see him shaking his head. 'I cannot learn or grow. Why would you want the approval of someone who cannot do those things? All I can do is parrot back my old knowledge and beliefs. I can use them to think thoughts about current events, but I cannot ever be what I was. Perhaps that might be useful to a later Headmaster or Headmistress, but you knew me for decades! What could I possibly say that you don't already know I will say?'

'I ...' Minerva was at a loss for words. She hadn't ever really thought of paintings like that, least of all Albus'.

'Without a soul,' he continued gravely, 'a man is a figment, a shadow. I cannot die, but nor can I live. It is from the living that you should seek approval, if from anyone at all.'

'You would have approved,' Minerva said to him, feeling truly confident about it and wondering why on earth she had been worried.

'You would know,' Albus said, grinning. Then, his face sinking into a cringe, he added, 'But may I offer you one minuscule piece of advice?'

Her eyebrows raised, Minerva asked, 'What is it?'

'You always liked chocolate. You should keep chocolates for the children instead of sweets. Why on earth would you offer them something you yourself don't like?' Albus shook his head, looking more serious about the issue of the sweets on her desk than about the closure of Hogwarts. Minerva's face broke into a smile.

'I will take that into consideration next year,' she said. Her day was finally picking up. Minerva turned away, grabbed a quill from her desk, and began setting ink to parchment. There was work to be done.