Work Text:
Snow had begun to fall on the grounds of Hogwarts, leaving a pure white blanket covering the sweeping lawn.The lake had frozen over, giving it the appearance of a shimmering mother of pearl. The winged boars which topped the heavy gates sparkled with frost as Minerva passed beneath them.
She paused for a moment, pulling her cloak tighter about her as she looked back at the castle looming large in the distance. It felt wrong to leave it, even if most students were currently at home for the holidays and Filius had assured her he would send a patronus should any issues arise.
Of course, no real issues had arisen in a very long time. Minerva turned back towards the road, the snow crunched beneath her feet as she began to walk once more.
The sky turned from steel grey to deep purple in the time it took Minerva to walk from Hogwarts’ gates to the far end of Hogsmeade. She came to a stop in front of the Hog’s Head. Despite the early hour she could already hear the raucous sound of voices and music coming from inside.
The noise grew as she pushed the door open. The small bar was almost unrecognisable. The layers of dirt on the floor had been swept away, revealing a gleaming stone floor. The sawdust had been removed from the bar and two large, brass chandeliers had been installed from the ceiling, casting a warm glow around the main room of the pub.
The pub was already teeming with people, scattered between the wooden tables which took up most of the floor, or else milling at the bar, awaiting drinks. Aberforth scowled back at his patrons, though Minerva knew they were all there at his invitation. On the wall behind him, in a style Minerva instantly recognised as that of Mr Thomas, draped a banner reading ‘D.A. reunion’ accompanied by a picture of a resplendent phoenix.
“Professor McGonagall!” a voice from the far side of the pub called, pulling Minerva’s attention from the banner.
She turned to find Harry standing at one of the tall tables. It came as no surprise to Minerva that he was surrounded by Ginny, Ron and a heavily pregnant Hermione. Harry beckoned Minerva forward, an excited gleam in his eye.
“You have not been a student of mine for a very long time, Potter,” Minerva said as she crossed the bar, nodding in acknowledgement to more of her former-students as she went. “You’re at perfect liberty to call me Minerva.”
Harry nodded, “well, Minerva,” he said, his smile not faltering for even a second. “There’s someone we’d like you to meet.”
Beside her, Ginny turned to face Minverva, revealing a small bundle of blankets pressed close to her chest. She could just make out the perfectly angelic face peeking out, a tuft of signature Weasley-red hair and curious blue eyes.
“This is Lily Luna,” Harry said. Minerva heard his voice waver, the same way it had when he had introduced little James and Albus to her. She looked up to see his green eyes shining beneath his glasses, as though after all these years he still couldn’t quite believe his luck.
“Stop it,” Ron said, shoving him roughly in the shoulder. “I’m going to get you another drink. Try not to become an emotional wreck before midnight. Do you want anything, Professor?”
“A gillywater, please,” Minerva said, accepting with only a small sense of defeat that her former-students would continue to call her professor long after their own children had attended Hogwarts.
“You’re having a break after that one!” Hermione called to her husband’s retreating back. “I’m not going to supervise Rose and have to watch over you if you have too much firewhiskey!”
“It’ll be fine, Hermione,” Ginny said, moving baby Lily from one arm to the other in a practised movement. “If they get drunk we’ll send them back to yours in the floo and you can stay at ours.”
“You’re going to replace me with Hermione?” Harry asked indignantly.
“Yes,” Ginny replied without missing a beat. “You can go and cuddle up with Ron, I’m sure you’ll both be very happy together.”
“I shared a room with Ron for six years,” Harry reminded her. “I can still hear the snoring.”
“He’s not that bad,” Hermione said loyally. “We got him some anti-snore potion from Diagon Alley.”
“The fact that you needed to get him anti-snore potion suggests he is that bad,” Ginny argued. Harry nodded solemnly in agreement.
Ron returned only a moment later, two firewhiskeys, a butterbeer and two gillywaters floating steadily in front of him. The conversation turned to the state of the Quidditch league. Ron vociferously supported the Cannons, despite them being bottom of the league for the fifth year in a row. Ginny, Harry and Minerva partook in a more balanced discussion of the rest of the league’s performance.
Finally, Hermione, yawning widely, begged that they change the subject. Minerva took the opportunity of the break in conversation to move away from the table, intent on circling the room. Aberforth, overwhelmed by the number of people swarming the bar, had inducted Hannah into his staff and she was busy pouring drinks with efficiency and a great deal more cheer than Aberforth usually displayed.
Neville stood by the bar, watching her, a bottle of butterbeer in his hand and a love-sturck expression upon his face. Minerva smiled to herself as she passed, remembering with striking clarity the round faced boy who had tripped on his way to the sorting hat all those years ago.
Minerva made her way to the free stool beside Neville. He tore his eyes away from Hannah upon noticing her take the seat beside him and smiled warmly in greeting.
“I didn’t think you’d make it,” Neville said with an air of surprise. “Doesn’t the headmistress usually spend New Year's Eve at the castle?”
“I’ll be back long before midnight,” Minerva assured him. “It seemed right to pop in, it’s not often you’re all in one place these days.”
Neville nodded in agreement with this, “busy schedules,” he said.
“I hear you’ve managed to make some time to assist Pomona with the NEWT students?”
“Only a few hours a week,” Neville said hastily. “Harry’s approved the time off for me.”
“Pomona would like it to be significantly more than that,” Minerva said, studying Neville’s face for a reaction.
“I know,” Neville said quietly, before taking a long sip of his firewhiskey. “She’s made her wishes very clear.”
“You’re still happy with the Aurors?” Minerva asked. “I have to admit, it was never the career I imagined for you.”
“I’m happy enough,” Neville said with a shrug. “I’ve done a lot of good and Mum and Dad would be proud.”
Minerva sighed into her gillywater. It had always come back to this with Neville. All these years and he still had not managed to grasp the undeniable truth. “Your parents would have been extremely proud of you long before you added Auror to your name.”
Neville looked up from his drink. His cheeks tinged pink.
“The only thing your parents would want,” Minerva continued, “is for you to be happy.”
“I am happy,” Neville said, his eyes automatically flicking towards Hannah.
“I’m sure you are,” Minerva said in a placating tone. “I’m simply making you aware that I approve of Pomona’s plans for her successor, should you change your mind.”
Neville drained the rest of his drink in one. His face quickly turned from pink to crimson. The intervening decade since he had left school, it seemed, had done nothing to improve his ability to take a compliment.
“I’ll think about it,” he said quietly.
“Neville!” Hannah shouted, before Minerva could respond. “Can you go down to the cellar and bring up another cask of mead, please?”
Neville hopped off his stool immediately, giving Minerva an apologetic smile as he did so. She smiled in return and watched him disappear through the door behind the bar, eager to complete Hannah’s request.
Less than a moment later, another glass of gillywater appeared in front of Minerva. Hannah winked at her from the far end of the bar and tucked her wand back into her robes. Minerva picked up the glass and took a sip as she moved away from the bar.
A high pitched giggle cut through the chatter of the pub and the thumping bass of the music, which was being carefully selected by Seamus and Lee. Minerva turned to find Lavender and Parvati sitting at a table by the window, their heads bent closely together. The only thing marking the passage of time since their school days was the pale, silver scar on Lavender’s neck and the small toddler balancing precariously on her knee.
“- and then she said that she didn’t have time to make the cakes for the charity bake sale!” Lavender said, her indignant voice carrying loudly.
Parvati shook her head in disbelief. “She did not!”
“Mummy!” the little girl on Lavender’s knee tugged impatiently on the sleeve of her robe. “I'm bored.”
“Go and play with the other children then,” said Lavender, indicating the far corner of the room where a space had been cleared and George Weasley stood surrounded by children, entertaining them all with his latest products.
The girl - Jasmine, Minerva recalled - scurried down from her mother’s lap and hurried across the pub to where the other children had congregated just in time to see George swallow an acid green potion. A moment later he opened his mouth and a myriad of rainbow-coloured bubbles flew out. The children shrieked in delight as they began to chase them across the pub.
Minerva quickly stepped out of the way of an untidy head of auburn hair which came barreling towards her in pursuit of a luminous orange bubble.
“James!” Ginny’s voice shouted from across the bar. “Watch where you’re going!”
James Potter looked up at Minerva. His brown eyes sparked with a mischief she had seen before in both of his namesakes. “Sorry,” he said, before rushing off to rejoin the group gathered around his uncle George.
“He’s going to be a handful when he gets to Hogwarts.” Minerva turned to find Angelina smiling after James.
“And I suppose this one is going to be the picture of innocence?” Alicia asked, her hand falling gently on the bump protruding from beneath Angelina’s robes.
From Angelina’s other side, Katie released a disbelieving snort. “Unlikely with his father.”
“I seem to remember his mother was never too far away from trouble either,” Minerva said shrewdly, causing the three women to laugh loudly.
“He’s not going to be any trouble at all,” Angelina said. Alicia and Katie shared a doubtful look but neither bothered to argue. “He’s going to be too busy with Quidditch practice.”
“I don’t recall Quidditch practice getting in the way of George’s mischief making,” Alicia said, fairly.
“Yes,” Angelina reluctantly agreed, "but George had help.”
The table fell silent for a moment. A sharp pang of regret shot through Minerva in response to Angelina’s words. It would always be there, she knew, that insistent sting of grief for those that could not be there with them.
They had all grown used to seeing George Weasley without Fred by his side. No one had questioned the sight of Dennis Creevey beside the bar, clutching a camera which should not belong to him. Minerva strongly suspected no one had asked Cho - who was sitting with Michael and Terry’s wives - if she would be bringing a date this evening. Every relationship she’d had had ended within a matter of weeks, the ghost of a boy who could never disappoint her, hanging over each one like a looming spectre.
The silence lasted a beat longer. Minerva raised her glass to her lips in order to hide her melancholy.
“He’ll have plenty of help,” Katie said eventually, popping the tension like a bubble. “I can’t open Witch Weekly without being bombarded with news of yet another Weasley baby.”
Immediately, the small group moved on. Alicia excused herself from the table, announcing she had not yet had the opportunity for a cuddle with baby Lily. Angelina and Katie went back to discussing baby names - middle names, for the first name was a foregone conclusion. They had all lived with the pain for too long and had become experts at not dwelling on it.
Minerva moved on too, continuing her slow circle of the room. She reached a table occupied by Luna. Little Albus Potter and Rose Granger-Weasley sat on the chairs to either side of her, listening intently to a wild tale she was spinning about her recent adventures in Asia.
Minerva shook her head, debating whether to stop her from filling the children’s heads with nonsense. Her internal deliberation was cut short as the door to the pub swung open, ushering in a sharp gust of wind.
A loud roar of approval echoed around the pub as the new patron bent double in order to squeeze through the door frame.
“Alright, Hagrid?” several people shouted at once.
Albus and Rose leapt from their chairs and hurried towards the door. They collided with Hagrid and each of them struggled to wrap their small arms around his enormous legs, clearly delighted to see him.
A commotion from the far corner of the room caught Minerva’s eye. An old display case stood beside the buffet table, exhibiting a variety of dust covered photographs of goats in fields and farms.
James Potter stood atop the glass cabinet, his arm linked with a small girl dressed in a sunshine yellow dress, her long brown hair had been arranged into two neat plaits which fell down her back. In her hand, she held a toy sword, even from this distance Minerva could see that plastic rubies had been glued into the hilt.
“James, get down this minute!” Harry shouted. He was at the opposite end of the bar with Neville, much too far away to get to his son.
“We’re going to slay the basilisk!” James called back, his tone making it obvious that he believed this to be a reasonable explanation for his current location.
“Jessica!” Dean shouted, from his spot beside the DJ booth. “What have we told you about climbing?”
“It was James’ idea!” Jessica shouted back, seemingly unconcerned with her father’s furious tone.
Out of the corner of her eye, Minerva saw a flash of red moving swiftly towards the two children.
“We have to fight the basilisk!” James said once more.
“Jessica has a sword,” Ginny pointed out, her hands too full with Lily to do anything about James. “What are you going to fight it with?”
“I’m going to punch it!” James declared, as though the solution had been obvious all along.
As she had been earlier, Minerva was once again reminded of the boy’s namesakes, who had never met a situation they had not been confident in their ability to fight their way out of.
Ginny, it seemed, had had enough. “Come down right now,” she said sternly, handing Lily over to Hermione, “or I’ll send a Patronus to Father Christmas and tell him to take all of your presents back.”
“Even the broom?” James asked, suddenly looking distraught.
“Yes,” Ginny said firmly.
Without a moment’s hesitation, James jumped from the cabinet. Minerva’s heart leapt into her throat. “No!” Harry shouted, though it was too late, James was already falling, with surprising speed towards the ground.
Minerva winced, her hand grasped for her wand but all she met was a handful of fabric. Her reactions were not what they once had been. The sickening crunch she was expecting to hear, however, did not come to be. At the last moment, Ron slid across the floor, providing a soft landing for his nephew.
“Just because your last name is Potter,” Ron said, as he scooped his beaming nephew up from the ground, “doesn’t mean you have to try and kill yourself at every opportunity.”
“Isn’t that your speciality, though?” Seamus asked. He reached Ron’s side and lifted Jessica down from the top of the cabinet. “Saving Potters from life-threatening situations?”
“I’m retired!” Ron said, setting James on the ground. He grabbed Jessica’s hand and they both ran away as fast as their small legs could carry them. “My speciality now is bedtime stories and monthly inventory.”
Minerva chuckled quietly to herself, imagining the look of utter horror she knew would have appeared on sixteen year old Ron Weasley’s face had someone told him he would one day proudly declare his skill at telling bedtime stories.
A hulking shadow fell over Minerva. She looked up, though it was immediately obvious who had come to stand beside her. Hagrid grinned down at her. The pint of mead looked positively miniscule in his gigantic hand.
“Nice ter see ‘em like this, int it?” he asked, inclining his head towards Harry who was standing with Ginny, Seamus and Dean, the four of them obviously lamenting their children’s behaviour.
“It is,” Minerva agreed. It seemed almost miraculous to see so many of them together now, surrounded by their children and loving spouses. The tiny stab of grief in her chest still remained, for those that could not be here, those that had made the ultimate sacrifice to allow the rest of them to have a night like tonight.
It was eased, however, by knowing that the worst Harry would have to face going forward was his son jumping from a too high cabinet. Angelina could rest easy knowing her unborn child’s time at school would be taken up with Quidditch practice and not forming secret societies whose purpose was to oppose a corrupt government. And Neville -who had given so much of himself in an unending quest to make the world better - was free to choose his next step, to leave the Aurors knowing his work was done.
“I think I’ll take my leave,” Minerva said, draining her glass and placing it on the nearest empty table.
“Not stayin’ til midnight?” Hagrid asked. The clock on the wall behind him showed there was still a few hours to go.
“No,” Minerva answered. Many years had passed since she’d felt the need to stay awake and see in the New Year. No longer did she feel the clawing, desperate hope that the next year would be better than the one they had left behind. She could go to bed peacefully, safe in the knowledge all was well.