13th of November 2019

13. 13th of November 2019

"We don't want to make things worse," said Harry.

Madam Pomfrey looked at them and the melancholy smile she gave him made a lump form in Hermione's throat.

"She's weak. But to be honest, that's neither here nor there any longer, and I think she would like some company for a while."

"We wanted to see her one last time before she dies, so it's nice that we may," said Luna.

Madam Pomfrey, the one least used to her, stared at Luna with her mouth ajar.

Luna tilted her head to one side as if she was listening to something and couldn't quite figure out what she was hearing.

"I said something I shouldn't have, didn't I?" she asked Harry.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, but don't worry about it. Everyone knows what's going on. It's just that people pretend not to know in an instance like this."

Luna nodded. "I can understand that. Death is difficult to handle, isn't it? I think it's because no one knows what happens afterwards. You might think, or believe, you know, but you can't be sure, can you?"

Hermione needed to cry to remove the lump, but Harry seemed unfazed.

"I suppose so. No use thinking too much about it, though." And with that Harry, Luna and Neville entered the hospital wing with Hermione and Ginny making up the rear. She was amazed how well they handled the situation. After all the losses in their lives, they should, at least to her mind, be balking at the emotional turmoil impending death always evoked, but when Minerva came into view lying in a bed at the end of the room, they smiled at her when all Hermione wanted to do was to fall apart and cry or start throwing things. Because Minerva McGonagall was so very thin now, with eyes that had sunk into their sockets and hair that was as white as the snowflakes falling outside the windows. She didn't want more death. She couldn't even stand the thought of it.

"Hullo," said Neville and sat down on one of the chairs next to the bed.

"Hi," said Harry. "Are you up to a visit, or do you want us to leave and come back some other time?"

Minerva looked all of them over and smiled, almost looking like her old self for a fraction of a second.

"Please stay. I think there are chairs for everyone."

13.00 pm

When Hermione returned to the room, bringing the tea tray, she heard Minerva laugh. The laugh was weak and breathless, but it was still a laugh.

"Really? The hat said that to you?" Minerva asked Neville when she'd stopped laughing.

Neville nodded and gave her a rueful smile. "I begged it not to place me in Hufflepuff. Gran would have been so upset. I would have got a Howler at the very least, and so would Professor Dumbledore. I always did think that the hat placed me in Gryffindor just to spare the lot of us a world of grief."

Minerva chuckled. Or rather croaked and shook her head. "Augusta can be quite overbearing at times."

"I know. I could have hugged you that time you sent her that letter about me being good at Charms." He stroked her hand. "Didn't dare to, though." And bless him for admitting that, because he made Minerva smile again.

Harry had been listening to Neville with avid interest. "I had no idea," he said. "The hat considered placing me in Slytherin. It even tried to convince me to chose Slytherin over Gryffindor. I panicked over that at one point."

"The hat threatened to put me in Gryffindor," said Minerva. "And made good on the threat, mind you, so it doesn't listen all that much to you, even if it might seem so."

"What? That didn't come out right, did it?" said Ginny.

Minerva gave her a stern look. "Of course it did. I'm sick, not feebleminded."

"So, you were expected to go to ..." said Hermione, too interested now not to ask.

"Ravenclaw. Like my Mother and Father and every known relation of mine."

Hermione couldn't help smiling. "It contemplated sending me to Ravenclaw too."

"Was it bad when you told them?" Neville's face was drawn into a worried frown. "Did they disown you?" Neville blushed then, like he used to do in the old days, probably on account of the cocked eyebrow that Minerva delivered.

"Sorry," he said. "Silly question, I shouldn't—"

Minerva lowered the eyebrow. "Don't worry. They didn't. They were consternated, I suppose, rather than angry. My family always considered Gryffindors a brash lot."

"And they are. And you are not the least bit different from the rest of them." The slow drawl came from the painting depicting a meadow filled with spring blossoms and frolicking sheep hanging on the wall opposite Minerva's bed. In the middle of the painting was the addition of an astoundingly misplaced and scowling Severus Snape.

"Severus," said Minerva, her voice warm. "You're here!"

"They need to leave now, Minerva. You should be resting." The glare he sent their way made all of them scramble to their feet, in every way behaving like schoolchildren again.

"Severus," said Minerva, a pleading note in her voice. "It's been nice having them here. I would like them to stay for a while."

Severus looked heavenwards in exasperation.

"In that case, they can take turns. Especially since Filius has asked if he could see you too. You are not allowed to overdo things. Go to sleep. When you wake up again, I'll fetch one of this lot for you. If you eat something, I will kick the present idiot out of the room and bring in a new idiot for you. If you drink something, I will do the same, and if you take your potions like the pleasant old witch that you are not, I might bring you yet another one. Not that I see why you would want them, but I suppose it is too late to amend your poor taste in people."

Severus was right, and they should have realised it. Besides, the shifty look she caught him and Madam Pomfrey exchanging told her that she was the one who had fetched Snape when she'd realised they had taken her comment when they arrived too literally.

Madame Pomfrey had tried to get them to leave several times by now, but they hadn't listened. Hadn't wanted to.

So Severus was there to control the situation, which was good, since he was one of the very few that could reason with Minerva when she was overdoing things.

And even more damning to the lot of them, Minerva was now nodding her agreement.

"You're a fine one to talk about taste in people. But I'll do that then." And with that she gave them a wave, her thin hand shaking when she did.

They took shifts after that, with Filius and several other Professors joining them, including Sybill Trelawney, who, for once in her life, kept mumbling about good signs in the sky. That, more than anything, frightened Hermione almost out of her wits.