Minerva McGonagall stood and stared pensively at the portrait. Albus Dumbledore smiled slightly and blinked at her over his legendary half-moon spectacles.
“It isn’t really goodbye, Minerva.”
She pressed her lips together for a moment and then let out a frustrated sigh, annoyed to be read so easily. “I know that, Albus, but… Well, I’ve grown used to speaking to you every day, you know.”
Severus Snape’s portrait looked pointedly in the other direction. Minerva realized she rarely talked to Professor Snape. Not that she had objected when Harry had come to her and advocated for the addition of the portrait to the collection of headmasters’ likenesses that encircled her office. Harry’s revelations about Snape’s motives and contributions to the anti-Voldemort cause had won back the respect that had been lost on the night she first learned that it was his wand that had killed Albus. Still, Minerva found Snape’s unrelenting grudge against Harry for what had passed between James, Sirius and Snape years before completely incomprehensible, particularly since Snape had respected and loved Lily enough to go to such lengths to protect her son. She had always been professional while Harry was a student at Hogwarts, and had steadfastly defended Snape’s punishments, but she had privately marveled at the ability of the man to maintain such a profound vindictiveness towards a child.
She had had long arguments with the portrait on the subject after its installation, but to no one’s satisfaction. Snape still hated Harry, even, and perhaps somehow more so after Harry had cleared Snape’s name. It seemed that the combination of having his secret love revealed to all of wizardkind alongside the knowledge that he owed yet another debt of gratitude to another Potter was more than even portrait-Snape could bear. He was civil to her, of course. They simply formed a tacit agreement not to discuss the Potters. She ignored him now and looked around her office one last time. Her personal possessions were stowed in a trunk and ready to be taken downstairs. She looked with fondness at the many instruments and remembrances that had been Dumbledore’s, many of which he had taught her to use over the years, through his portrait. They belonged to Hogwarts now, and she was sure that Albus’ portrait would continue to pass on the insights and information that had helped her to do her job a bit better these many years.
She should go now. It was the moment to go. Somehow her legs wouldn’t take her out the door.
“Hmph.” She sat down on her trunk, impatient with herself. Though a woman of great feeling, Minerva prided herself on restraint and certainly did not consider herself sentimental. She wanted to retire. It was time. She had felt it coming on for two years. She had been an excellent headmistress, she knew that.
After Harry had destroyed Voldemort, the survivors of the war had begun the slow and painful process of rebuilding their world and their hearts. Minerva’s task had been to set Hogwarts to rights again, and this she had done with fierce devotion, determination and unswerving love for the school. Buildings were repaired, order was reestablished and students began, slowly and over time, to build new, post-war memories.
She had held a memorial Yule Ball the Christmas after the war, in tribute to all of the dead, not only those lost in the Battle of Hogwarts. A memorial wall of fallen Hogwarts students, teachers, and staff, past and present, was unveiled that night along the 7th floor corridor, near the Room of Requirement. It spanned the length of the corridor and was filled with small but beautiful portraits of every precious life known to have been lost in both wars.
Harry had reminded her to include Regulus Black’s portrait next to those of Sirius, James, Lily, Fred, Remus and Tonks. Regulus’ portrait seemed to be freshly scrubbed almost daily and she had wondered why his cheeks were consistently more pink than the others. Then, one night when she couldn’t sleep she took a late night stroll “ she often walked the memorial corridor when she needed inspiration - and found Kreacher cleaning the painting with loving care. He started guiltily when he saw her. He was ancient by then, and his hearing was going. He was slower to move out of the way when people came into the room, and more than one student had been startled to find him in the Slytherin common room, cleaning at odd hours. But Minerva gently resisted his requests to have his head lopped off and mounted on the wall next to his ancestors. He was dead now, a couple of years past, and Regulus’ portrait was relegated to the same care given to all the others.
She looked out onto the grounds and saw smoke spiraling cheerfully from Hagrid’s chimney. She smiled. She was glad to leave the school with Hagrid still here. He seemed hardly to be aging. Poppy had told her once that she wondered if Hagrid’s giant blood would give him a much longer life than other wizards. Since the giants tended to kill each other with such regularity, no one knew how long their natural lifespan actually was. If Hagrid was any indication, they were a long-lived bunch. Yes, Hagrid would help Hogwarts to retain a connection to its history. That was a comfort.
She knew, however, that the Head’s office needed new blood. Her job was done. She had seen her contribution clearly after the defeat of Voldemort. She was the thread between old and new; the person who would set Hogwarts firmly back on its feet. And she had done that. Now, the school needed a new generation of leadership and she was completely at peace with that decision. So why couldn’t she leave this office?
“Minerva…” She jumped as she realized Albus’ portrait was still gazing at her. She stood and brushed a non-existent hair away from her face “ none of Minerva McGonagall’s hairs would have dared to have been out of place. Albus continued.
“Minerva, I don’t understand. You have never doubted yourself. Your decisions about Hogwarts have all been your own. You never relied on me. Why should you find it difficult to leave my portrait?”
“Well, Albus, you aren’t only good for advice you know,” she replied with an exasperated wave of her arm. She stopped and looked into the bright blue eyes. “I’ll miss the company.” She sat back down on her trunk, fighting the tears welling up. “I’ll miss the company.” Albus Dumbledore smiled his understanding. A knock on the door brought Minerva back to her feet.
“Enter,” she called smoothing her perfectly smooth hair once more. Neville Longbottom walked in with a shy smile on his face, and behind him, Harry Potter.
“Longbottom! Hello… Potter! How nice to see you. What on earth brings you here? I was… getting ready to leave.”
“We know, Headmistress,” said Neville. He had just finished his first year as Herbology Professor “ Pomona Sprout’s personal choice to replace her upon her retirement. He had lived up to all hopes and expectations, and after his contributions to the war, expectations for Neville Longbottom had risen considerably. A man who had seen his share of both joy and misery, triumph and defeat in his years at Hogwarts, he was one of the most perceptive and caring teachers the school had ever had, and she foresaw that he would make a splendid Head of Gryffindor House one day.
Harry stepped forward. She had to force herself not to laugh. Harry Potter, the hero of the war, the defeater of Voldemort; when faced with his old Transfiguration professor, he still looked like the frightened boy she had caught flying his broomstick without permission those many years ago. “We just needed a moment of your time, Professor McGonagall.”
She motioned them to sit down and stepped behind her desk, sitting for what was surely the last time in the Headmistress’ chair. Harry glanced at Neville, who nodded for him to continue. “The thing is, Professor, we wanted to give you something to keep a bit of Hogwarts with you, and… Well, I know for me, it was so hard not to be able to just talk to him…”
“What are you on about, Potter?”
Neville spoke up, “Professor, we got a gift for you… for your retirement. It was Harry’s idea, mind, but I thought it was brilliant.”
“We commissioned Dean Thomas. His work is highly acclaimed now, you know…”
“I am fully aware of Mr. Thomas’ accomplishments, Potter. I was at his last opening, you know, when his painting of the Battle of Hogwarts was unveiled at the Ministry.”
“Yes, of course… Well, Professor, Neville and I wanted you to have this. Just… to thank you for giving Hogwarts to our children with its full glory restored. Not many witches or wizards would have had the strength and the grace to do it as well as you did.”
Minerva blinked and swallowed the lump in her throat. “Thank you Potter. I regret that my retirement comes before your sons’ turns to enter Hogwarts. I would have loved to have been here for that.”
Harry smiled. “I would have loved that too, Professor. And… well, I think it’s okay to tell you now… we have a third on the way.”
Minerva and Neville both broke into genuine smiles of delight at that news. “You and the Weasleys must be determined to send them in pairs! Won’t Albus and Rose start the same year, and isn’t Hermione pregnant again as well?”
“Yeah,” smiled Harry. “Best friends all organized for them before they even get on the Hogwarts Express.”
Minerva’s face darkened. “I fear that’s more than the wizard world was able to provide for either of you gentlemen.”
Neville’s smile faded for a moment, but he hitched it back up and said, “True, but we turned out alright, huh Harry?”
“I think so.” He stood up. “Well, I’ll just get your gift…” He opened the door and brought in a large squarish package covered in a purple velvet cloth. Neville jumped up and they propped the package on Harry’s chair and took off the velvet.
Minerva caught her breath. It was a beautiful portrait of Albus Dumbledore, smiling placidly from behind his spectacles. Dean Thomas’ now famous signature was modestly writing itself out in the lower right hand corner. Dumbledore was dressed in fine robes of deepest blue, which made his eyes look like bright sapphires in the light, and his silver hair and beard seemed to glow like unicorn hair.
“Oh my,” said an amused voice from behind Minerva. “Mr. Thomas has made me quite dashing. Alas, I wish I had looked so handsome in life.” The Dumbledore in the new portrait smiled serenely.
“I couldn’t stand not being able to talk to him sometimes... You know… after. I mean, by the time the war was over, I had accepted... everything. But sometimes I just wanted to say hello. When I went to Dean’s first big show and saw the work he was doing, I asked if he could do a portrait for me. It’s nice to know I can sit down and have a little chat, you know… For company. So I went back to Dean and... I thought you might...” Harry’s voice trailed off a bit and he looked uncertainly at Neville.
Neville came to his rescue. "We thought you might like the company too, Headmistress."
“Thank you, Harry… Neville. It’s beautiful. I don’t know what to… It’s just beautiful.”
No one spoke for a moment and finally Neville stood up. “I’d better be going. Hannah will be home soon, and it’s my turn to cook.”
Harry and Minerva stood up as well. Harry turned to his old Transfiguration Professor and said, “That reminds me, Ginny asked if you’ll come to dinner Sunday? Ron, Hermione and Kingsley are coming as well. ” He grinned and added, "And Teddy, of course."
Minerva cursed the slight hitch in her voice as she replied, “I’d love to.”
Turning to her trunks, Neville asked, “Can we help you with these, Headmistress? Or are you not ready to go yet?”
Minerva looked at the kind and reassuring face of Albus Dumbledore staring up at her from his new portrait home. “Yes,” she said. “I’m ready.”