A Cat's Tail: Minerva McGonagall Fan Fiction

Chapter 39

"We will now partake in a minuted silence to commemorate Myrtle Warren, a girl who should still be sitting among us now," The Great Hall was swathed in velvet black banners, the tables covered with black table cloths, and the hall deadly silent. Minerva shivered. She glanced over at Olive Hornby, who had tears pouring down her face. It was all an act, and Minerva knew it. It was common knowledge that the girls had hated each other. 

When the minute finished, no one spoke. The silence was heavy, heavy as the hearts of each and every student. There was a shuffle, and a clatter as a girl from the Ravenclaw table, Mathilda McDowell, stood up. Myrtle's best (and only) friend. Silently, she undid her tie and slowly lifted it above her head. 

"For Myrtle," Her voice cracked, soft and hoarse, but something new came over the hall. It was hope. A few more Ravenclaws followed suit, lifting their sapphire ties above their heads. The Hufflepuffs stood up almost simultaneously, brandishing their own sunflower yellow ties. Minerva tugged at her own tie, before standing up. Her tie was cold in her hand, the scarlet stripes too proud for such a humble gesture. The first Gryffindor to stand, but just seconds later Hagrid joined her, as did Iris, Affrodille, Amelie, and eventually Ria and Ivy. Minerva caught Mathilda's eyes and mouthed "sorry," 

The teachers, though they didn't have ties, stood up all the same. Dumbledore held his cosmic blue scarf, adorned with stars, planets and asteroids (moving, as far as Minerva could tell) high above his head in an act of solidarity. The rest solemnly removed their pointed hats. Slowly, one by one, stars appeared on the obsidian black ceiling, and, as though in some state of reverie, everyone said:

"For Myrtle," It echoed around the hall, embellished with starry light, before everyone sat down. Professor Dippet moved up to the gold podium.

"I am deeply regretful to announce, as headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the school will close if the culprit is not found. This school is no longer safe, and we do not want a repeat of what happened to poor Miss Warren. She will be sorely missed" Minerva stared at the headmaster as the hall erupted into chaos. Hogwarts couldn't close! It was her home! The hall was much sparser than usual, parents threatening to remove their children left, right and centre. She looked over at Hagrid, and his expression mirrored hers. Eyes wide, brow furrowed, mouth open, gaping like a fish. Minerva looked away when he realised she was looking at him and found herself looking a Tom.

To her immense surprise, Tom looked stressed. His forehead was creased with worry lines, and he was staring blankly down at his plate. Next to him, Dolores Umbridge, one of the few students who hadn't removed her tie, sat next to him, smothering her lips with strawberry pink lipgloss, and rearranging the hot pink headband that nested in her dirty blonde curls. She was chatting mercilessly, and for a second, Minerva felt a pang of sorrow for him, but that vapourised the moment he looked up and flashed her a cruel smirk.

"Little Miss Gryffindor, what a surprise to see you!" Tom's falsely bright voice fractured the silence of the corridor. She couldn't stand a minute more of Ivy and Ria's spiteful glares, and Affie's, Pomona and Iris's pitiful ones. 

"Go away, Tom! I'm not in the mood for this!" She hissed, stopping in her tracks, not turning around. What did she have to do for some alone time around here?

"Go on, look at me, Little Miss Gryffindor," Minerva could hear the smirk in his voice. "That little - well, little is the wrong word - half-breed won't be in this school much longer," Minerva clenched her hands into fists by her side, still ready to defend Hagrid despite their arguments. 

"Argh! For goodness sake! COULD EVERYONE JUST LEAVE ME A-" As she turned around to fly at Tom, she stiffened, as though someone had frozen her, and with an expression of pure horror, collapsed, still and silent.

The last thing she remembered was a pair of blazing red eyes, staring out from a scaled face.

.....

"The hearing's today. I know yer thought it was Aragog - he's the spider - but he really is harmless. I don't blame yer though, if I could go back I'd tell yer, I swear! Tom...he really wants me out, I guess 'cos of what I am. Now everyone knows...knows that I'm...I'm half-giant, I doubt any of the people at the hearing - what are they called? - will listen to Dumbledore. I'm almost glad me ol' dad ain't here to see this...he used to always say that I was made for great things, he did. If he meant great as in big, sure. I'm sorry Minerva, I truly am," A tear slipped down Hagrid's cheek. He gently stroked Minerva's frozen hand. "I'm so so sorry, I swear," 

"Rubeus," Hagrid jumped as Dumbledore placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It's time," Dumbledore's face was sombre, the lines on his face more prominent than ever. The grey flecks in his auburn hair seemed more frequent, his eyes were tired, oh so tired. Hagrid stood up, his chair squeaking on the sterile floor, and gently bent down to kiss Minerva on the cheek. A slight smile danced across Dumbledore's lips, though it vanished in a second, like a smothered flame.

"Sorry," Hagrid whispered, stroking her frigid hand. 

Professor Dumbledore was silent throughout the entire journey. Though this was Hagrid's first time on the Muggle London Underground, there was no novelty in it. The odd looks from the muggles would be off-putting enough if he wasn't on the way to potentially have his wand snapped on top of it. The professor's hat and robes earned him some side glances, as well as Hagrid's unusual size. 

"Here we are," The first room (if it was one, Hagrid couldn't tell if it had a ceiling or not) in the Ministry of Magic HQ consisted of looming walls, built with polished black brick, glinting like polished opal. Gold statues of centaurs and mermaids and wizards that he should probably recognise dwarfed him, making Hagrid seem like a goblin in comparison. Clear, though slightly green water burst out of them, and collected in verdigris pools beneath them. 

Dumbledore lead them to a lift, full to the brim with bustling wizards and witches, enchanted aeroplanes zipping above them. Hagrid's palms were sweaty and shaking. He stroked his chin, feeling the soft wisps of stubble beginning to accumulate there. The lift juddered, before creaking upwards. 

"Afternoon Albus," A man, who Hagrid realised was the Nigerian Minister for Magic by his name tag, nodded at Dumbledore.

"Afternoon Johnson," Dumbledore then lead Hagrid to a small, rickety door, and turned around. "Rubeus, I must leave you here, but listen to me, stay calm. There is very little evidence in this case, only shameful prejudice, and I will fight my hardest against it, understand?" Hagrid nodded, staring into Dumbledore's electric blue eyes, hard, but sincere. "I'm on your side,"

Hagrid nodded and pushed open the door, where a hundred or so formally dressed wizards and witches sat, judging every moment from a cold stone auditorium. Hagrid squeezed his eyes shut and recalled his Dad's voice.

"You're destined for great things,"