Re: Minerva McGonagall (5/17)
Minerva had not managed to sleep well the night before, with the quiet noises just loud enough to keep her awake. She'd assured herself that it was the village, as usual, that there was little to be done about it, but it had been little comfort.
Today there are words and she is dragged back to the war, in her head. Usually she is not much for looking back; the anniversaries of horrors too many to observe them all, the associations too frequent to pick one out from the others. But this hits her the way those pleading eyes of her students did in that horrific year under the Death Eaters, and it is enough to make her respond once the words start. "Hello?" she asks, making her way to the wall and resting her hands on it. "Who are you? Where are you?"