#minerva macgonagall

[snapeaddict]

Snolidays 2022 - week 2, Family

Para mi querida amiga @mmad-lover, loosely inspired by @gawaincomic’s beautiful drawing 

Il nous faudra trouver les mots pour t’apprendre à rêver plus haut

‘They look very beautiful, don’t you think, Severus? Exactly like the picture. It certainly is the first time I can say as much.’

Severus looked down on the recipe book, frowning slightly in a very characteristic manner, one that he would conserve well into adulthood – then he looked up at the dishes, looked down again, and finally, carefully, as if he were assessing the outcome of laborious research, he nodded. Sometimes it was only the little things, such as the naive look of wonder he had just cast upon the desserts, that reminded Albus of his age. Contrary to most members of the staff, neither he nor Minerva had found this especially amusing. It was clear that Severus felt compelled to act in such a premature way; a formerly abused child living in a world of adults certainly felt no choice but to adapt his behaviour according to what he saw, in hope that he would gain acceptance. Nothing was unconditional for Severus, and when Minerva had been rushed to the hospital, he had thought that it was time for him to leave. He had thought that Albus, who had spent long days at the hospital, would send him away so that he could focus on her well-being. And Albus had indeed been busy: so busy that for a few days he had only been there at bedtime, and had left the boy alone with his fears. It had been the first time Severus had had night terrors in over a year. 

The following day, despite the doctors’ reluctance, Albus had brought him along to the hospital. Severus was a different child – he and Minerva would have to learn to protect him in the most effective way, and in this case, it had meant visiting his mother instead of waiting for her to return. In all fairness, this had not only benefited the boy, since Minerva had significantly lightened up after seeing him: she had recovered so well from her operation that it had been decided she would return to Hogwarts only two weeks afterwards – today. This was a special occasion, and Albus and Severus had spent the greater part of the day down in the kitchens in order to prepare something she would enjoy.

‘Do you think Minerva will like them?’ Severus asked. ‘I don’t like that smell.’

Albus burst out laughing. Of course there was whiskey in Minerva’s favourite dessert; not a child’s ingredient of choice. But he had made sure there would be a special dish just for Severus, which had been set aside in a green bowl.

‘She will, Severus, trust me. Crannachan is her favourite dessert, remember? And since you are the one who did almost everything, I am sure she will love it.’

‘Kran-e-ken’, the boy corrected with excellent Gaelic pronunciation.

Oh, how happy she would be to see him. With a nonchalant hand movement, the headmaster cast a quick levitation spell on the dishes while a light emerald coat made its way towards Severus, floating mid-air. 

‘Now let us go to the greenhouse. I am sure Minerva is already there. Would you mind carrying the tray?’

The boy nodded with excitement.

The tray looked huge next to Severus, yet, he carried out the task with great care. Despite his shyness, he had recently started to open up, and Albus had been delighted with the discoveries he had made as a result. First, at 6 years old, the boy showed an early disposition for cooking, and that Albus had learnt in a rather curious way: while the boy had always eaten everything he and Minerva had cooked for him - despite their obvious lack of talent for the culinary art - the elves he had hired to look after the boy when they were away had informed him that Severus not only took great pleasure in cooking, but had shown remarkable talent in identifying ingredients by taste, and made helpful suggestions about which spices to add to the soup. Speaking of smell, the boy was, in fact, ever curious: the first time they had walked down to the greenhouse, he had gathered the courage to ask Minerva what scent was coming from the ground. It had just rained, and the child’s face had lightened up when she had taught him the word petrichor. That was when she had started to teach him her native language; there was no shortage of words relating to the weather and natural world in Gaelic.

At the very moment Albus opened the door to the greenhouse a familiar laughter reached his ears. He could see Minerva’s red tartan blanket from where he stood and felt a sudden breath of childlike joy overcome him, perhaps because Severus, who was standing by his side, was brimming with excitement. His face, usually remarkably pale, was flushed; his small hands, resting on the tray he was holding close to his chest, could not be kept still, and neither could his feet.

‘Would you like to carry the desserts?’, Albus asked, putting down the dishes on the tray. ‘I can cast a spell that makes them very light.’

And there was Minerva. Her black hair was pulled in her usual tight bun, and she was sitting in a wooden chair with the tartan blanket up to her chest. It was a beautiful afternoon in early spring and sunbeams fell elegantly on the ground which, as a result of the dense foliage that covered the greenhouse dome, was speckled with shadows. Filius greeted the headmaster with a smile, moving to his left so that the older man could see Minerva properly. Albus felt the urge to hug her, but, aware that she preferred to leave affectionate gestures to the private sphere, simply pressed his right hand against hers. She smiled at him.

‘I hardly think such a fuss is necessary, my dear. Pomona here makes me feel like an invalid – and Filius, I am perfectly capable of pouring my own cup of tea.’

‘It is my pleasure, Minerva’, the other man responded.

The transfiguration teacher rolled her eyes. ‘Where is Severus, Albus? I thought you said you were bringing him with you?’

Albus frowned, turning back: ‘Why, he is her- Severus?’

But the boy had not followed him. Instead, he was still standing by the door, looking up in the air with what Albus immediately realised were tears running down his face. The old man felt his heart sink. Severus never cried aloud; many times they had thought he was sleeping his back turned in the opposite direction before realising he had been crying silently, while his body and face had kept perfectly still. Every time it had happened the headmaster had felt a sort of bitter, self-directed anger build in his chest: how long would it take for him to get to know the boy? To detect even the smallest signs of distress? He was a great wizard, but being a parent was something else entirely.

He ran towards the boy, kneeling next to him. ‘Severus, what is it?’

The little boy blinked back tears and replied, in a trembling voice: ‘The plant took my desserts’.

For a second Albus stood there, puzzled; then, looking up, he understood. One of Pomona’s plants, a small shrub with gigantic branches with a mind of their own, had taken the tray away from Severus – at this very moment, the dishes were in a precarious position, some four meters above the floor, going from branch to branch towards the shrub.

‘Pomona, can you come for a minute?’, the headmaster asked, gesturing towards her. She approached. ‘It seems that your friend here borrowed something important from Severus.’

The botanic teacher, gently patting the little boy’s shoulder, folded her arms in an authoritarian manner and, in a very teacherly way, looked up at the rebellious branches.

‘RUPERT. You get these down this instant! I am warning you, if any of them wind up broken, you won’t be getting any fertilizer for a week. A WEEK, you hear me?’

Like a child caught red-handed, the plant stood perfectly still the moment Pomona entered the scene – then a kind of high-pitched squeak came from the shrug and, slowly and carefully, the tray made its way back towards Severus, though the branches’ nonchalant gestures clearly indicated that this was being done against their will. Finally, an unhappy branch presented the tray to the child who took it back quickly, scowling at the shrug. The branch, in return, ruffled Severus’ raven hair and made a strange movement that must have been, in retrospect, a plant’s grimace.

And there the rivalry between Rupert and Severus began, something that would, too, last well into his adulthood and make potion ingredients gathering a handful. Often at lunchtime Professor Snape would enter the dining hall looking like he had just swallowed a particularly strong dose of Skele-gro and completely dishevelled – that was why. Often he would get especially frustrated at his students for wasting ingredients – that was also why.

One year, Severus stopped coming, and Rupert’s branches hung miserably in the greenhouse, always beside the door.

‘Oh Severus, I’ve missed you so much!’ Minerva said, smiling at the little boy who was running towards her. And what do you have here? Is that for me? That looks delicious!’

‘Did he make these all by himself, Albus?’ professor Grubbly-Plank asked Albus as Minerva took a bite from her dish, Severus sat on her knees.

‘My dear, he is 6. Of course I helped him’, Albus replied.

‘Well, that is astounding’, Filius said, his mouth full of cream and strawberries.

‘I know. Who would have thought such a little boy could have so much talent?’

‘No, I meant, it is astounding that you helped and these still are excellent’.

‘Those biscuits weren’t that burned!’ Albus protested, vexed. ‘And it was two years ago!’

‘Filius, you’re being too hard on him’, Minerva intervened. ‘Who apart from us can say that they have tasted seasoned ashes? No one, I am sure.’ 

She paused maliciously while the old man huffed. ‘And Severus, these are the best desserts I have ever had.’

Severus’ face turned pink. He remained silent while all the grown-ups kept on talking; then, when the time came to go back to the castle, Minerva refused to let him go, carrying him in her arms all the way up to the castle. The little boy buried his face in her arms, looking as though he would soon fall asleep. Then he whispered, so that only Minerva and Albus could hear: ‘me and daddy have missed you, mum’.

For a second none of the adults could speak. They froze, looking at one another in disbelief: never before had the boy called them mum and dad.

Then, in the mild evening, they hugged him tighter than they ever had before, and Albus felt incredibly grateful – for his little boy, for Minerva who was alright, for all of them who were together; and, he added mentally as they reached the castle, for Severus’ improper use of grammar, fit for a child.

-

Yen - Yves Duteil

Yen

My little Vietnamese flower

I’ll love you no matter what, put your heart close to mine

Yen

Dry your tears forget your sorrows

You may remember that those who loved you are too far away

It has come, 

The time to live your childhood

In your great house in France, surrounded by serene love

Yen, my little Vietnamese flower

Dry your tears forget your sorrows, put your heart close to mine

Yen

May your life be also mine

As true as your parents love you, Drop all of your burdens here

Hate

Regret, Violence and Severe Punishment

May they never return, to wet your cheeks with a trickle of water

Sow 

Your laughter and clear soul

And if sometimes your heart is empty, let all your sobs burst

Love

Draw your strength from mine

And in our hearts that belong to you, find the bottom of your cradle

We’ll have to find the words - to teach you to dream higher...

Yen, my little Vietnamese flower

I’ll be there no matter what, put your heart close to mine

Yen, dry your tears forget your sorrows

You may remember that those who loved you are too far away

It has come, the time to live your childhood

In your great house in France, surrounded by serene love

Yen, my little Vietnamese flower

Dry your tears forget your sorrows, put your heart close to mine

Yen, dry your tears forget your sorrows

For no matter how far away you are coming back from, this country is already yours.

Yen, my little Vietnamese flower

Yen, my little Vietnamese flower.

[maraudersfullmoonfest]

This is a fic by @jadezdominion about an oblivious Remus!

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Sirius Black & Minerva McGonagall, Minerva McGonagall/Original Female Character(s), Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Regulus Black/James Potter, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin Characters: Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Minerva McGonagall, James Potter, Regulus Black, Marauders (Harry Potter), Kreacher (Harry Potter) Additional Tags: Gay Regulus Black, Gay Male Character, Pansexual Character, Lesbian Character, LGBTQ Character of Color, Bisexual Sirius Black, Pining Sirius Black, Oblivious Remus Lupin, Werewolf Remus Lupin, Polyamorous Character, Idiots in Love, Friends to Lovers, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Person of Color Sirius Black, Legilimency (Harry Potter) Summary:

Sirius has it bad for Remus, and for a wolf with extra abilities to sense and scent things, he was utterly oblivious. It had been years and honestly, Sirius needed to do something. Remus had also started acting a bit off lately. Something or someone's gotta give.

[margo-lemonycat]

Another great wizard has passed away. Let's all raise our wands.

[fanfic-lover-girl]

A big problem with Hogwarts is that they don't have enough teachers, creating an absolute killer squedule for them. Snape and Macgonagall have the worst of it. It might explain why they couldn't do an investigation in the second book, although cancelling some of the exams and extending the christmas holidays would probably give them time to investigate. Or hire more teachers so that the dark art expert teachers can have the necessary time to investigate.

Dumbledore cancelling the exam at the end of book two does make sense: because of the climate of terror and less free time in the library, teachers would have to either significantly lower their standards or simply have no exams at all. Because, realistically, very few would be able to study.

A big problem with Hogwarts is that they don't have enough teachers, creating an absolute killer squedule for them.

Hogwarts as a school makes no sense. I don't know how many teachers there are and I don't care to research that. But it must be tough to teach a subject for 7 different year cohorts. Of course, the OWL and NEWT classes would be smaller but that's still a lot of work.

On top of that, Snape and Minerva are house heads. No wonder these kids are running wild and their caregiving is lacking. On top of this nightmare, Minerva is ALSO deputy headmistress. It's a miracle Gryffindor house is not in shambles! No wonder so many Slytherin!Harry fics feature Snape being a more competent and active head of house! Canon definitely supports it given how much the Slytherins love and respect the man.

I have been skimming scenes from the books but I have no intention of fully reading them. What happened to the OWL and NEWT exams in book 2?? It's also very telling that the basilik only became an emergency when Hermione was petrified. Got to love that main character syndrome.

No guidance counsellors. No proper career advice counselling (giving career talks in year 5 is dumb as hell). Only one nurse? The student-to-teacher ratio is insane. Hogwarts is the boarding school from hell.

[obscurarteraven]

R. I. P

Margaret Natalie "Maggie" Smith

Nossa eterna Minerva MacGonagall

✧28/12/1934

♱ 27/09/2024

[belvouir]

Minerva MacGonagall.

[deformedbiscuitcheerygranny]

MacGonagall: so what's the new rule here?

James, mumbling: not to dare Sherlock to do stupid stuff..

MacGonagall: and why is that?

Sirius: ... because i have no regard for my personal wellbeing

MacGonagall: correct.

[rosesoraa]

One Minerva a day

Keeps the drama away

[ifyoulikepinacoladas31000]

I don't know if it's been said already

But what if the reason why Minerva McGonagall was able to produce three Patronuses at once was because she was so overjoyed to see Harry in "good health" and ready to fight for her honor that she was filled with so much pride which allowed her to perform this impressive feat of magic??

I mean, I know she's a badass and can probably do this on her own, but I thought it was a sweet idea ^^"

[nsimin]

[queerasaurus-rexx]

goddamn it now i want an au where severus snape is sherlock holmes and minerva macgonagall is john watson -

[geekriter]

So I was thinking about muggle-born wizards/witches and their entrances into the wizarding world in HP. More specifically, the entrance with their parents.

So imagine you are the parent of an 11 year old going into secondary school. It is the summer, and your child enjoys spending their days playing in the park by your house, or flat, or building. One fine day, you are sitting at home reading with your SO, or alone, when there comes a knock on the door. You open it and see a severe woman with a tight bun and an austere dress standing at the threshold. She says she would like to talk to you and your child, and the matter will change your child’s life. So you call them back and you all sit down together, bringing a pot of tea with you. The woman says that her name is Minerva McGonagall and she is the Headmistess of a school called Hogwarts. The school is interested in your child who has shown magical capabilities. She then explains that there is an entire secret community of witches and wizards living throughout Britain, and your child is what is known as a Muggle-Born Witch/Wizard. You are more than a little surprised. You, yourself noticed something special about your child, but MAGIC? Wizards? It seems too far fetched. Professor MacGonagall then gives you a letter, addressed to your child and gives you the location of a pub. “Your child will be able to see it, but you won’t be. Not from the outside at least” she explains to you. “There is a list inside of everything your child will need during there time at the castle.” She then tells you that for all first year Muggle-Born Wizards they are going to be meeting 15 minutes before 11:00 on the designated date of the departure ticket outside Kings Cross Station. You make a note to yourself “10:45, date of departure, Kings Cross”

After she leaves, you discuss the development with your child, who is beyond excited. So you decide to at least check out this pub. You don’t know why this woman told you to go to a pub, but you will go anyway. You walk along the road with your child and of course, you don’t see anything there. Your child however, takes you by the hand and leads you into, what looks like a deserted alleyway. As you are lead into the shadows, your jaw drops. You are no longer in a dank alleyway, but an old, worn, dusty looking pub. Your child is looking around in wonder, and your doubts about a secret magical world vanish immediately. An old grizzled barkeeper looks up as the two of you walk in and smiles as he sees the looks on your faces. He knows that look. It is one he sees all the time. It is the look of someone who has just had their entire world changed in the blink of an eye. Someone who has just realised that what they knew, isn’t even close to the truth. He says from his place at the bar, “first year? Muggle-Born?” Your child nods eagerly. He comes over and ruffles their hair. You note that the barkeeper lookes much friendlier when he smiles. “I’m Tom, let me introduce you to Diagon Alley. There you will be able to find all your school books, robes, a wand, cauldron, and everything else you will need for school. You can change Muggle money at Gringotts, our bank, which is directly down the alley. Do that first.” He leads you out a door to a wall behind the pub. He takes out a thin stick of wood and taps a brick. You gasp and take a step back while your child hops up and down in excitement as all the bricks start moving and shifting until they create a large archway. The world beyond is unlike anything you have ever seen before.

[whooopsiess]

MINERVA MACGONAGALL WAS BORN IN 1935, THE CRIMES OF GRINDELWALD IS SET UP 1926/1927, HOW IS SHE IN THE MOVIE WHEN SHE WASNT BORN YET

[dr-nicholas-rush]

chippedrose​:

Minerva shot him a momentary, playfully disapproving look as she shook her head.

“Yes, but young Nicholas, one must always bring a bottle for the host when invited into a home.” She told him with a slight smirk she tried to hold back as she spoke like she would to a misbehaving student.

“I know your mother would have taught you better manners than that. Or to at least not turn down an offer of whisky!” She said with a slight laugh, her demeanour changing back to her normal self.

Rush chuckled. 

“Let me remind you that you can also bring flowers instead of a bottle, Mrs MacGonagall,” he replied cheekily. “It doesn’t have to be alcoholic.”

[messrsmoonyandpadss]

Congrats on 7k🎉😄 Could you do McGonagall + biscuits?

Thank you so much!

MacGonagall’s love for biscuits started when she was still a student at Hogwarts. She had just turned into an Animagus and liked to go on strolls on her new kitten form. There was this girl who would always give her some homemade biscuits, she didn’t know that precious kitten was Minerva but when she found out Minerva and Poppy became really close friends

Send a character and a word for a headcanon!

[emma-what-son]

Sue, who is your fave HP character? Mine is Minerva MacGonagall. However, my aunt gave me a Severus Snape nendoroid for Christmas. I mean, I am happy, but also at the same time, why???

Is that her favorite character by chance? Or doesn't she like HP and did she just think that you would like it haha. I love Remus Lupin and Ginny.