My Harry Potter Mystery

An owl, a potrait, a silence

There was a dull and gloomy silence over Hogwarts. There were very few people, save herself, Hagrid and the third transfiguration teacher yet, after her, that is, Irma Goldstein. She was famous for being related to the long gone, Tina Goldstein. She didn't like her at all. She carried a fake proud movement of importance and after repeated convincing, McGonagall had not succeeded in persuading her that transfiguration was a subject of great subtlety. On whose opinion did she agree to accept her, she didn't know, because she was simply an animagus.
Any skill she did contain, was hidden deep inside, unable to come out.

McGonagall in any manner would not entrust her the writing of letters to the first years. The ministry had sent her the list and she undertook the strenuous task of writing them all herself. Her owl, the famous brown, tawny owl, was already half over America and was going to deliver a few in Canada too. She wondered how many families were kind enough to give it some food and how many would just leave it in starvation. She sighed, breathed deeply and walked out.

She was not in any mind to admit it, but her age had beaten her time and even the feeble steps she took seemed tiring and full of fatigue. She would never, however, retire till she dies. Her eyes almost seemed weathered, her skin wrinkled, but her spry attitude and happy face always was there, no matter what.

She had gone to the owlery, and found her tawny back. She gave him a few pellets of pumpkin seeds and then bid him to the close by Hogsmeade. There were many wizarding families there, and of late, the children there became more. There were three first years from Hogsmeade and they didn't have to catch any train.

She walked back and got surprised by a startling voice right behind her chair.

"Professor McGonagall!"

It was the voice of Albus Dumbledore. Seldom did his portrait stay awake, and yet when it did, McGonagall was gripped by such an excessive yearning to see him again, she wished it would stay silent.

"Professor! What a pleasure.. How is your workload coming about?"

"Same as always. I'll raise myself if there's more and bend myself if there's less!"

"Why do you carry a face of such stress, then?"

"Ahh.. Professor! A headmistress is am admirable yet tiring job. You mainly portrayed the former, but your prestige and power showed little of the latter.."

"That may be, for I am simply paint and memory!"

He vanished just like that.

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