By Anasuya
Minerva McGonagall stood in the doorway of the headmaster’s office, surveying the new furnishings. The house elf Dobby had come to her last week, asking how she wanted her office decorated. Her office. The words still seemed foreign. Seeing her desk and tartan furnishings did nothing to alleviate this feeling.
She walked around the office, averting her eyes from the array of portrait covering the walls, stopping at her desk and sitting down. She jumped up almost as quickly, straightening her glasses with a shaking hand and sniffing slightly.
The feelings of guilt and sadness that had overwhelmed Minerva since Albus Dumbledore’s death threatened to overtake her. She fought to keep them down as she stared out the window at the grounds. Hagrid was tending to the plants in the garden; Minerva smiled sadly at the black armband Hagrid had fashioned for himself. They all grieved; some, like Hagrid, more openly than others. However, she had to maintain her demeanor in front of the others. She was, in essence, the new leader.
Sighing deeply, she allowed herself to look at Dumbledore’s portrait. It had yet to animate and was still snoozing peacefully. “I’m not ready for the, Albus,” she whispered. “I don’t know if I can do this.” The truth was, her icy demeanor had not endeared her to the rest of the staff. She was their colleague, but not their friend. Albus had been the only one who had transcended that barrier.
A knock at the door startled her. Wiping her eyes, she called out, “Come in.” The door opened and Sybil Trelawney glided into the room. Minerva fought the urge to scowl. “Hello Sybil. Can I be of assistance?”
“Good afternoon, Minerva. I was reading into the future, when I was struck with the urge to bring you my budget for the school year.” She held out a scroll.
“Well, I’m quite glad you did,” McGonagall said curtly, “as the rest of the staff did that several weeks ago.”
Trelawney flushed. “Well, I do apologize but sometimes the burden of the inner eye is so great, that mundane paperwork seems to elude me.”
Minerva felt the beginnings of a migraine cloud her brain. “Of course,” she sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Well, if that’s all, I’ll attend to it. And I thank you for your…err promptness.”
Sybil seemed not to notice the sarcasm. Instead, she gazed intently at the headmistress. “Your aura seems different, Minerva. Are you quite all right?”
“Yes, Sybil,” said Minerva shortly, not wanting to discuss her ‘changing aura’. “I’m fine.”
The divination teacher did not look convinced. “The change is palpable.” Her face suddenly shone with anticipation. “If you wish to delve deeper, I am willing to crystal gaze for y-“
“No!” Minerva got to her feet. “No. I’m sorry Sybil, but I’m quite busy right now.” She gave Sybil a curt nod before ushering her to the door.
“You shouldn’t be so quick to rid yourself of your allies,” a voice behind her rang out.
Minerva jumped and spun around, searching the room wildly. Her eyes fell onto the last portrait on the wall, which was very much awake and smiling genially at her.
“Albus! I-I don’t know what to say!” Minerva was suddenly breathless.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he said warmly. “I was so rudely eavesdropping and only wanted to mention that it is unwise to push away those who would call your ‘friend’.
Minerva scoffed. “Sybil Trelawney is not someone I would consider my friend.”
“Why not?” asked Dumbledore. “Is a friend not someone who worries about you, who notices when you’re upset and who offers to help?”
Minerva opened her mouth but no sound came out. Dumbledore cut her off.
“All I am saying, Minerva, is that friendship is sometimes found in unlikely people and places. Don’t be quick to dismiss someone who genuinely cares.”
The headmistress turned away and wiped her eyes. “You’re right, of course.” She sighed deeply. “With everything that has gone on recently, I have not been thinking straight.”
“And it is times like these when we rely on our friends the most.” Albus smiled, and Minerva felt as though some of the weight she had been carrying had eased its burden.
“Thank you, Albus,” she said gratefully. “I shall go to Sybil first thing tomorrow, once I approve her budget.”
Dumbldore chuckled. “Do watch out. The last budget she submitted included ‘libations for student celebrations’.
Minerva looked shocked. “Surely, you’re not serious.”
“My dear headmistress, the dead do not lie.”
The next day, Minerva walked all the way to North Tower and knocked on Sybil’s trap door with some difficulty. She climbed the silver ladder that appeared and pulled herself into the dark, smoky room.
“Sybil?” she called out, her eyes slowly adjusting to the gloom.
“Is that you, Minerva?” Sybil appeared at her elbow. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“I came to bring your approved budget,” Minerva replied, holding out a sealed scroll.
Sybil accepted it warily. “Surely that doesn’t warrant a visit all the way up here?”
“Well, actually I did have an ulterior motive,” Minerva said. “I was wondering if you’d like to come down to the Three Broomsticks with me for a drink.”
Sybil looked shocked, yet pleased. “Really? What’s the occasion?”
“No occasion,” Minerva stated crisply. “I just would like to treat my friend to a drink.”
Sybil smiled genuinely. “Well, then I absolutely accept but under one condition.”
“Which is?”
Sybil’s smile grew. “That I repay the favour by crystal-gazing for you.”
Minerva smiled slightly. “We’ll see, Sybil. We’ll see.”