Let’s talk about a cat who spent a whole day waiting on a wall, while everyone else was celebrating, because she had heard something and she couldn’t believe it. Because people were laughing for the first time in years, and all she wanted to do was cry.
Let’s talk about a teacher who was strict and severe, but fair and caring. A woman who fought for her students until the very end, with her green robes and stern look, three silver cats flying out of her wand. And they fought for her too.
Let’s talk about Minerva McGonagall.
When Minerva McGonagall saw Harry for the first time, she didn’t see his mother living in his green eyes, like Severus would. She didn’t see James’ ghost in his shy smile, like Sirius; or a hero to be shaped by manipulative hands, like Albus. She didn’t even see an orphan, like the rest of the world did. She didn’t see the boy who lived. She just saw a boy, her student, and for her, that was enough.
Minerva McGonagall survived a war and all that came after. The funerals and the sorrow, but also the laughter that was back. She survived the ghosts and the mourning. She let her heart break over Lily’s death, her hands shaking because James would never make another joke; a sharp, disappointed pain over Sirius’ betrayal (they had been her students. They had been her children) and then she collected the pieces and moved on. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, Albus said once. And she didn’t dwell on dreams. She was stone and she would not shatter.
She survived a war, and, when she had already buried the dead and forgotten the nightmares, another one came. And she survived it too. She was a rock, and rocks may be weathered, but they don’t break.
When Fred and George Weasley abandoned the school, leaving behind a trail of cheers, admirers and laughter, and a petition (give her hell for us, Peeves), Minerva saw Umbridge’s fury and Peeves’ bow, and hid a smile in the corner of her lips. When Neville Longbottom came to her office, asking for advice, with his clumsy hands and a respectful fear in his eyes, she offered him a biscuit and some tea, and she gave him reassurance with her stern frown and her steady voice.
When Remus Lupin became the DADA teacher, she invited him to her office. She offered him biscuits too, some chocolate this time. They talked for a long time, about old times and forgotten joys, about four friends and their mischiefs and pranks. They looked back on their bets and their antics, their hopes and their dreams. They didn’t talk about death, not that evening, and the Marauders came back to life in that room, their voices rising and stealing pieces of a future they hadn’t gotten to live. They also talked about their students, homework and assignments, because they were teachers after all, and that was something worth remembering.
She gave him a knitted jumper for Christmas. He gave her a box of chocolates. Years later, she would stand by his grave and leave a single flower on it. A flower for the boy she’d known and the man he’d become. The man who was kind and quiet and healing. The man she’d like to have gotten to know better.
Albus died then, a shout and a blaze of green light. A fall, and it was all over. It felt like the end of an age. “Are the rumours true?”, she had asked, once upon a time. Now she wanted to ask Harry the same thing, trying to keep her voice from shaking, because Albus Dumbledore couldn’t be dead, could he? But then again, James and Lily couldn’t have been, either, and yet they had been, they were.
When the Second Wizarding War began, she stayed at the school. She kept teaching, because she was a teacher and she would not let them take that from her. Because her students were there, and she wouldn’t leave them alone. She wouldn’t let them die, all those brave children, if she could do something to save them. She wasn’t like Albus, who had prepared himself to sacrifize a boy in the name of the greater good. A boy’s life for the sake of the world.
After the Battle of Hogwarts, there was a destroyed castle and ashes. Minerva stumbled when she saw George’s desperation and Fred’s frozen smile. She wanted to cry when she came across Lavender’s body. She finally collapsed to her knees, when she found Colin Creevey. She had seen him this still, once before. But there were no mandrake leaves to save him, not this time. He was too young. He shouldn’t have been fighting a war, the brave and naïve boy.
Pomona Sprout kneeled next to her then, and Minerva sobbed on her shoulder.
“A boy”, she cried. “He was a boy, he was a child. Children, they were children.”
Pomona let her weep, and then she said,
“There are children here still. They are alive, and they need you, and more will come, and you’ll be there. And you’ll be fine.”
And she was right. Minerva collected the pieces once again, and she moved on. She sent a box of chocolates to Dennis Creevey, as Remus would have done, because he was so much better at being kind than her. Than any of them, really. Dennis sent her a photograph, an old picture of Albus and her, the Weasley twins laughing in the background. She met Molly Weasley for tea, and they shared anecdotes. And she went back to Hogwarts and she kept teaching, because she was a teacher before anything else. She became the new headmaster. The best one of them all.
Some years later, Neville Longbottom knocked at her door, asking for a job. She remembered all the times he had come, asking for advice with her stammering voice. She remembered the way he had led the resistance, the way he had stood up and defied the ones who had made his parents lose their minds. The way he had worked hard and stubborn, never giving up. She offered him a biscuit and some tea. She had never felt so proud.
When he left, she went through some papers. She looked up and the portrait of Albus Dumbledore winked at her. She smiled and went back to work.
When Teddy Lupin arrived at Hogwarts for the first time, expectation in his eyes and bright colours in his hair, he was nothing like the other orphan who had stared at her once upon a time, the one who had had skinny elbows and broken glasses. Teddy Lupin wasn’t looking for a family, he already had one. But, as she had done before, she saw another student, and for her, that was enough.
She was a teacher. Students were her children. And she was their rock.
I have become obsessed - to the point of balling my eyes out over a fanfic - with all of these weirdos!! To JK if she’s reading this … For gods sake write some books about these guys they’re fucking legends!!!
This summer you were spending the holidays at the Burrow.
Your home life was less than easy and your brother’s friend Percy had suggested
that you come to stay. Of course you knew the Weasley children – you were even
in the same year as the twins – but it had never gotten past casual
acquaintance. Because of this you were slightly nervous especially as they had
met your brother who was snobbish at best. Still you supposed, it couldn’t be
worse than home.
A Portkey had been arranged for you the morning after the
last day of term, so that you had time to get more holiday appropriate clothes
and the Weasley’s had time to reunite themselves without any intruders (not
that they had put it that way). So after you had accepted the stale bread and
jam given to you by Ferny, your family’s less-than-pleasant house elf, you took
hold of your trunk and the flowers you had bought as a thank you for Mr and Mrs
Weasley and lugged them down the stairs to the drawing room in which the
Portkey was. It then occurred to you that it would’ve been much easier to have
taken the disguised teapot upstairs. You were relieved to see that none of your
family appeared to be awake, that would’ve ended badly.
Before you had time to dwell for too long, the teapot began
to glow. You held on tight to your luggage and the Portkey and tried not to
wince as you felt the familiar hooking sensation in your belly. You had used
Portkeys numerous times and so were able to land almost gracefully. Barely had
you landed when the front door of the lopsided house was thrown open by a
portly but friendly looking woman.
“Y/N dear, lovely to meet you. I’m Mrs Weasley, but call me Molly.” She
enveloped you in a warm, if squishy, hug, then shouted inside. “Boys? Ginny?
Come down here, Y/N is here.” She then turned back to you. “Now darling, would
you like some breakfast?” she asked.
“I’ve actually had some-“
“Nonsense,” you’re interrupted. “I’ve got scrambled eggs made, you look like
you could do with it – never seen a girl so skinny.” She smiles warmly and you
guess that she feeds anyone and everyone as much as she can for fear they might
starve or something. You are led into the kitchen as you hear footsteps
overhead, coming down the stairs.
A red haired girl appears and when she sees you stops and
speaks to someone just out of view.
“See, I told you she was pretty.” She makes her way down the rest of the
stairs, soon followed by three boys, who you know to be Ron, Fred and George.
You smiled and waved.
“Hi,” you said.
“I’m George,” the twins introduced themselves. You narrowed your eyes in
“No you’re not,” you retorted. “It’s the other way around.”
“Well how the bloody hell did you work that out?” asked Ron,
bewildered. You gave him a smirk and were about to answer when you spotted a
“Perce!” you exclaimed. Running over to him you gave him a huge bear hug. The
two of you had spent many a summer’s afternoon escaping from either your
brother’s or your parents’ tantrums and had grown quite close – despite his
When you finally let him go, you noticed his four younger
siblings gaping (and even Molly seemed dumbstruck).
“I am so f-ing confused,” muttered Ron. “How can someone tell Fred and George
apart and be happy to see Percy?” You couldn’t help but laugh.
“He isn’t that bad guys,” you told them. They shared a look and in unison said,
“Yes he is.” You muttered something about how little they knew about what bad
really was and Percy gave you a quick side hug.
Next thing you knew, breakfast was served. You ended up
seated in between Percy and Fred.
“So tell me, what did Percy spike your drink with to make you actually like him? I’m not sure I’ve ever seen
anyone (apart from Mum) hug him before.”
“We bonded over how irritating our brothers are,” you joked, avoiding the
question. You received a playful shove.
“Rude. For real though, tell me,” he insisted. You sighed, figuring you may as
well tell him.
“Well, as you know my family aren’t exactly the easiest.”
You motioned to the scar on your cheek. “I was a pretty lonely kid before
Hogwarts and then suddenly, one summer there was this new person in the house –
someone who wasn’t my family. Sure Percy isn’t perfect but he was okay with
people being different. He introduced me to this whole new world where muggles
weren’t the enemy and you could eat as much dinner as you wanted.” You smiled,
nostalgia setting in. “And, I guess he was my first friend.”
Fred had sat there, in silence throughout the duration of
your story, something you sensed was uncharacteristic of him. George soon
suggested tournament of wizard’s chess, where you took it in turns to play each
other. To your surprise, Fred declined.
“I think I’m gonna stay and talk to Y/N.” You were actually quite relieved, you
were terrible at chess.
You found yourself telling him all about yourself. Your childhood,
your teenhood, everything same spilling out. You were only interrupted once.
“How did you know I was Fred?” he asked. You smirked.
“That was easy. You’re the hot one.” You caught his eye and the two of you dissolved
George Weasley was trying his best, he really was and it wasn’t difficult to tell. The amounts of forced laughter and smiles were absolute torment. Everyday he had to live with the fact that his best friend wasn’t gonna be there anymore (he goes to Hogwarts every once in a while to talk to Fred’s portrait but it wasn’t the same). But he does, he doesn’t know who he’s doing it for, he just does.
It had been 2 years and it was a regular day at the shop, usual customers with their kids running around. Business was booming as always and George couldn’t be happier. He was rearranging the love potions when a hand suddenly touched his. Taken a back he stumbled onto one of the display stands for support. “Oh I’m so sorry,” says a beautiful witch. She had the most mesmerizing eyes George had ever laid upon. Trying hard not to stutter, “No no, it’s most perfectly alright,” he starts trying to put on his best Lockhart smile. “If you’re going to buy that, let me tell you, it really does work. By the way what is your name beautiful lady?” His charm never left him. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N,” she says with a giggle. “Was this your natural way of charming witches or did you read Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches?” she smirks. He puts a hand over his chest and dramatically says, “Oh why on Earth would I own a copy of such rubbish?” (he had one, he just gave it to Ron). Y/N laughs, she laughs so hard, George was afraid she might knock one of the products off the shelves, nevertheless, it was a nice laugh. “Say, if you don’t mind, after I close up, do you want to get some ice-cream?” he says feeling a little braver than normal. Furrowing her brows and thinking for what seemed to be forever, “Yeah, sure, see you later then.” She smiles and heads for the door but not before he sees her blush.
Now here he was 4 years later, with a baby in his arms. Y/N smiling proudly at both of her boys. George played with his newborn son, who was given the “greatest, most honorable name I know”, Fred. “Hi, my name’s George but you call me dad, your name’s Fred and it’s nice to meet you,” he cooed. Fred opens his eyes and George swears that he sees the same twinkle in Fred’s eyes, those same twinkles him and his twin shared. Tears formed in his eyes as leans into baby Fred and whispers, “It’s nice to meet you….again.”
You knew it was impolite of you to leave, but you couldn’t stay any longer. Every word that came out of Fred’s mouth pierced your heart. You couldn’t help but compare Fred to Harry. Even though Harry insisted he wanted to work alone, he reluctantly accepted his friend’s help. What was so special about Fred’s line of work that made him shut them out? The threat of death and the danger of going against You-Know-Who were accepted weights upon your friends’ shoulders. What was the danger in one more risk?
When you arrived at your flat, you were surprised to find it empty aside from your cat, Snuffles (x). You discovered the small black and white cat meowing outside the Weasley’s home a week after Fred died or vanished rather. Snuffles was ragged and thin then, completely opposite of the cat that stood in front of you now meowing for attention.
“Hello Snuffles, have you seen Elliot around?” you asked. Elliot was your boyfriend. You met him during your job orientation at the ministry. He helped you get back on your feet while you mourned for Fred. He recommended a counselor to you and let you cry for hours about Fred when the pain became unbearable. He surprised you with chocolates on your desk and organized massive dinners to help you not feel alone. Your friendship didn’t instantly blossom into a relationship that was all Ginny. After watching you mope around for two years, Ginny grew tired of seeing you unhappy. At one of your work parties she saw how you and Elliot connected and decided to play match maker. She pushed you to ask him to lunch or her quidditch games. When you started making excuses to not invite him Ginny would scold you saying If you don’t ask him, I know five other girls that will. It took another year to convince yourself that you were ready to move on, and you were grateful for Elliot’s patience. You remembered repeating the phrase Fred would want me to be happy over and over to yourself every time Elliot invited you out. Now you couldn’t imagine a life without him. You were head over heels in love with Elliot. He was handsome, funny, and spoiled you rotten with affection. Both your parents and the Weasley’s approved wholeheartedly of him. George sometimes consulted him for business advice, since Elliot worked in the department of magical cooperation at the ministry. Ron, Harry, and Elliot sometimes took guys trips down to quidditch matches for the weekend. Now after a year of dating, you decided to move in together at a cozy two bedroom flat in London. However, now that Fred was back part of you felt guilty dating Elliot. There is nothing to be guilty for you told yourself. Fred let you believe he was dead for five years. He let his friends, family, and girlfriend suffer for years. I deserve to be with someone who was there for me and made me happy. You made your way to the kitchen counter and found a note written in neat handwriting sitting on the counter.
Something came up at work. Hopefully I will be back later this evening. I made your favorite steak and potatoes and left it in the fridge for you. Owl me if you need me.
I love you,
You considered owling him, no doubt he would come home in an instant if he knew you were upset. However, you needed to calm down first before you would be able to tell him anything. Perhaps a nice long soak in the bath and dinner would help. Though you didn’t have much of an appetite now, perhaps you would have one after you calmed down. After promising Snuffles you would feed him soon, you made your way to your bathroom and started filling the tub making sure to drop a few soap petals in. Upon returning you found your cat patiently waiting by his bowl for food. Snuffles must’ve sensed your grim mood and decided to extend hispatience . Had this been any other day, your cat would’ve hoped onto the counter and started to lick the fruit in the fruit basket and glare at you when you told him to get down. You nodded your head in a silent thank you for your cat’s generosity and proceeded to fill his bowl.
When you returned to the bathroom, your tub was full and brimming with bubbles. As you sank into the tup, your mind filled with thoughts of Fred. You remembered the summer you spent together, the year before he supposedly died.
“Come on Y/N the water’s fine. Why are you so reluctant to jump in?” Fred frowned. You looked into the water. Normally, you were all for swimming, but that was in clear water. However, this water was anything but clear. The lake was full of opaque chocolate colored water that hid everything that lay bellow the surface. What if there was a big fish that would pull you down the moment you jumped in? What if there was a squid in the water…were there fresh water squids? “Y/N as much as I love seeing you in that sultry swim suit, I’m positive that it would look even better under water.” You couldn’t help but giggle at Fred.
“Fred, what if something drags me underwater?” you asked as you sat down on the dock.
“Babe, I promise you that my splashing and screaming scared off any scary fish,” Fred reassured you. “The only fish you have to fear is me.” Before you could recognize what was happening, Fred pulled you off the dock kicking and screaming. After a minute of flailing, you realized Fred was cradling you in his arms.
“Fred, that was terrifying,” You frowned crossing your arms.
“Hey, I got you in the water though didn’t I?” when your scowl didn’t budge Fred continued. “I’m sorry babe, I really am, but at least I get to hold you.” You felt color rushing to your cheeks as you became aware of Fred’s arms around you.
“Fine, but that still doesn’t get you off the hook for pulling me into the murky lake,” you teased. Fred smirked and freed you from his arms forcing you to stand on the muddy ground. Before you could protest, his lips were on yours slowly filling your body with warmth. As his lips traced your jawline, his hands dug into your back making you let out a low moan in pleasure. When his lips reached that tender spot on your neck, you swooned into his arms that were outstretched to catch you.
“Oy! Lovebirds,” you broke away from Fred to discover an annoyed George, embarrassed Ron, and smirking Ginny. “This lake is not your personal love pool. Keep it kiss free.” Your cheeks were definitely beyond cherry red now. instead of apologizing, Fred began laughing a hearty laugh.
“I know you’re just jealous I have Y/N and Angelina couldn’t visit today.” Rather than dignify his brother with a response, George proceeded to jump in, dousing the two of you with gallons of dirty lake water.
“We can’t let him get away with that right Y/N?” Fred winked as he swam toward his brother. The whole lake broke out into an outrageous water battle for the rest of the afternoon. Water flew everywhere, and by the end you didn’t care about whether the lake was clear or murky.
When you emerged from the lake and Fred covered you with a towel you couldn’t help but thank him for getting you in the water.
“Fred thanks for getting me in the water I had a great time,” you laughed as you placed a kiss on his cheek.
“What did I tell you Y/N?” Fred smiled. “I’m full of good ideas including this one.” His cool lips found your neck once more, leaving a trail of kisses up to your lips.
When you woke from your daydream, the water was no longer warm and most of the bubbles had subsided. Your cat sat on your sink watching your face intently. No point in staying any longer in a lukewarm bath. Quickly, you finished washing yourself up and slipped into your comfy pjs and the fluffiest robe you could find. An hour had passed while you were in the tub, but you were still not hungry for dinner. You had too many emotions in your head. Fred was your first love, and your only love before Elliot. Would your relationship ever return to its former glory, one full of laughter and happy memories? What if all you could see when you look at him was pain and his lifeless body in the hall? Your heart ached from the reopened wound, and you wished you could quell this pain. The longer you thought about it there the more painful it felt. You curled up into a ball on your bed, the emotions from today taking a toll on your body. You cried for the man you lost, the secrets that he kept, and the future that was taken from you. The Fred that stood before you was a ghost. Though you could see him and hear him, he was not someone you could hold close again.
WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS. Why. WHY. WHY WOULD YOU PURPOSEFULLY HURT PEOPLE IN THIS WAY. I only met this man for the first time three days ago, and now I wish he’d never been born.
Anyway: it got me thinking about one of the more horrible parts of post-Harry Potter Harry Potter. Listen closely: it’s really very horrible.
George married Angelina.
I feel like Jo just slipped this one in there and not many people noticed it happening. Because yeah, it all makes perfect sense: Angelina was in the same year as Fred and George, they were all on the Quidditch team together, they all hung out together, so far so fine. Here’s the thing though: Angelina was Fred's girlfriend. Not George’s. Fred’s.
I think about Life After Fred for George and Angelina quite a lot; probably more than is healthy for a 28 year old adult who has a grown-up job and does grown-up things like, you know, keeping pasta in glass jars instead of in packets, and actually bothering to hoover the carpets at least once a fortnight, and ok, I haven’t worked out how to change a hoover bag yet, but we are GETTING there, is the point.
I think about how they must have grown closer in the aftermath of Fred’s death, coming together to talk about him and to share stories about him; sitting up late at night, the two people that loved him the most.
I think about how hurtful and bewildering it must have been for Angelina to look at George, who tbh was always the slightly less vivacious of the twins, and have to see him looking back at her wearing the face of the man that she loved.
I think about how one night, drunk and reminiscing, they must have ended up kissing, and that there must have been solace in that but also hurt and confusion and shame.
I think about the guilt that George must have felt, knowing that he was stealing his brother’s girl; about about the constant paranoia he must have felt that perhaps she was only with him because he looked exactly like (but wasn’t) Fred.
I think about their wedding day, and about the gaping hole next to George where his best man should have been. I feel like they would have left a space for him. I feel like they would have set aside a chair at the top table. I feel like the best man’s speech would have been a minute’s silence - and then there would have been an awful lot of drinking, and a lot of fun, because Fred would never have wanted George’s wedding any other way.
I think about Angelina waking up next to George every day, seeing him lying beside her in the bed, his ginger hair splayed across the pillow: a shit copy of the man she loved and lost.
I think about her old and grey, her fingers fumbling through the moving photograph albums of their life together - ginger kids, Weasley weddings, fun and friendship - and imagining that the grinning face next to hers had been Fred’s. I think about George watching her from his seat by the fire, eyes wrinkled from years of laughter, knowing that that was what she was thinking, and wishing that it could have been true - not only for her, but for himself.
And I think about both of them being sad, but being happy; and knowing that this was really the only way they could have lived their lives, under the circumstances.
So yeah - I think a lot about George and Angelina.
I love all the little things you rediscover rereading the Harry Potter books that just remind you of the first time reading it
-Percy bet Penelope money Gryiffindor would win the quiddich match in poa
-Luna enchanting a lion hat in ootp
-Hagrid giving Dudley a tail
-Fred and George threatening to send mrs Weasley a toilet seat
-the fact that Sirius is mentioned on like the 3rd page of book one
-NORBERT AND EVERYTHING INVOLVING NORBERT THE NORWEGIAN RIDGEBACK THE BEST FUCKING CHARACTER
-Dumbledore coming to convince Hagrid to be a teacher after Rita publishing articles about her and Hermione getting flustered when Dumbledore opens the door not Hagrid
-Mrs Weasley briefly being cold towards Hermione because she read the Rita Skeeter article
-The first chapter of Half Blood Prince
-the list goes on
shoutout to george, fred, and especially ron weasley for realizing that harry was stuck in abusive and unhealthy household and, in spite of the massive trouble they knew they could get in, taking immediate steps to personally see him removed from that environment, something no adult in harry’s life did.
Imagine Molly Weasley trying to knit Fleur a Weasley jumper but she keeps putting it off, not because Fleur isn’t one of her favourite people but because it’s the first time she’ll knit an ‘F’ onto one that isn’t for her son.