Mistakes were Made

hello! this was requested by @sigh100. This is a harry potter one shot. I hope im writing this well enough, and that I interpreted what @sigh100 wanted correctly! It's a parental type minerva and harry. i'm writing this as kind of if minerva wished she could have raised harry!

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The cold air nipped at Minerva's face as she sat on the bleachers on the Griffindor stand. Beside her, manning the announcements was Lee Jordan, a rather talkative you boy, but a good child. She gazed out at the court, the first game of this year's quidditch season was about to begin, and she felt, excited? Nervous?

Certainly she was proud, whether or not the Griffindor team won- and she had complete confidence that they would- the team had been working very hard to train for the match. And she was even prouder of the team's newest addition, Harry Potter.

Oh, Harry Potter. Minerva remembered his parents fondly. Always the troublemaker, that James had been, but a good boy, and a fantastic seeker. And Lily was always a joy.

"Oh how I miss them." She sighed almost silently. She remembered that day, that horrible, tainted day. When two of the most wonderful and promising young wizards she had ever had the honor to teach were ripped away from the world. From their life, from their son.

She remembered her argument with Dumbledore, how she had begged him, shouting at him to reconsider his choice. It was one of the only times that the proud, stoic woman had ever lost her composure.

She knew, she knew as soon as Harry had shown up at Hogwarts, the very first day, she knew they had make a mistake. A wretched, terrible mistake. She had known that there were so many other ways to ensure the boy's safety than to condemn him to a childhood in what was quite obviously an extremely mentally- and possibly physically- abusive home.

She would never forgive herself for allowing it.

Her attention snapped back to the game as Madam Hooch released the balls and the match began. The players mounted their brooms and jumped into the action.

Lee Jordan began the commentary, "And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelia Johnsen of Griffindor! What an excellent Chaser that girl is! And rather attractive too-"

Minerva spun around and spat out a warning, "Jordan!" She narrowed her eyes to ensure the boy knew she meant business.

"Sorry Professor." He returned the commentary as normal and her attention was once again back on the game.

Griffindor was doing well, and Minerva was pleased at her house's success so far. However, the Snitch had remained out of sight, and Harry had had nothing to do thus far. He was flying high above the game, out of trouble and in an excellent position to spot any flashes of gold. Wood was an excellent team captain.

"Wait, was that the snitch?"

Harry dived, he had seen it. Neck and neck he flew alongside the Slytherin seeker, who had also seen it. All other action seemed to halt as the entire crowd watched, holding their breath as the two boys fought to catch the snitch first.

Harry inched ahead, just in front of Flint, and he almost had it. The other seeker blocked Harry angrily, Potter whirling out of control, and grasping the broom as tight as he could. The crowd, specifically the Griffindor's erupted in anger and chaos, as they yelled at the offending seeker. Minerva's gaze was locked firmly on Harry, silently panicking until he regained control.

Once it was clear he was alright, she noticed Lee's comments again, and continued to reprimand him for his obvious bias, fighting against her own.

The game continued as normal for a few moments, when it begun.

Harry's broom was- behaving strangely. It didn't seem to be responding as it should, and it jerked violently, almost throwing the boy off.

People began to notice, and a faint panic was evident as the crowd pointed and whispered amongst themselves.

A cold terror shook Minerva down her her core as she stared at the young Potter struggling to remain on his broom. His broom.

The one she had gotten for him.

His broom rolled and before she could comprehend what was happening, Harry was dangling nearly a hundred feet in the air by one hand. As the broom continued to jerk, and Harry continued to hold on for dear life, Minerva clenched her fists hard enough to draw blood. Her eyes were locked onto Harry as the out-of-control broom carried him higher and higher, out of reach of the Weasley twins' attempt to bring him to safety.

Her eyes burned, matching the fire exploding on her palms, tears that she was unable to allow to be shed gathering behind her spectacles. Any moment now, she was certain that young Harry, the boy who had been through so much already, would lose his grip and fall to his death.

She wished she had never bought him the broom.

She wished she had never let him play Quidditch.

She wished she had never let him go.

But miraculously, the broom stopped its tantrum and Harry pulled himself back up. Minerva's breath hitched and she breathed deeply for what seemed like the first time in centuries. Her eyes betrayed her as salty tears rolled down her flushed cheeks.

Harry was racing towards the ground, and clasped his hand against his mouth. Coughing, it looked like he would be sick, when he hacked and was suddenly holding a small gold orb, the golden snitch.

"I've got the snitch!" He exclaimed, eyes shining with pride and relief.

The crowds erupted in cheers, and Minerva smiled. Maybe mistakes were made. Of course they were. She would regret her choice to give Harry up to those muggles her entire life. But maybe things would be better. Maybe things could be mended, fixed.

She hoped so.

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