** this book it's going under major editing so be wary if you read it; there's major plot holes and things not described very well.**
No matter how much I edit this book they'll still be plot holes and inadequate writing - this is my oldest book on...
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'Only the dead have seen the end of war.'
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At the peak of dawn on Sunday 1st November 1981, the sun waved cheekily through the castle windows, it begged for attention on the chilly autumn day, longing to drag its friends outside to play.
Minerva McGonagall padded across her chamber, a stony expression stretched across her face, and a quill in hand as she lowered herself into her velvet desk chair and opened a maroon pot of ink to mark the first year's work (which had been handed in the previous day.) After marking one or two, (and turning the parchment in all angles to try to understand if it was in English,) a small, tawny owl tapped rather happily on her window.
The Professor rose from her seat and wandered over to the window a few coins grasped in her left hand. She twisted the latch and the owl hopped in happily, the chocolate brown feathers absorbing the beaming glow of the sun. Happily, the bird waved its foot in the air, (almost as if it was dancing to some slow jazz music,) and Minerva chuckled silently and she untied the paper and placed a few coins into the owl's pouch. Carefully she patted the bird's head before it hooted and flew back off into the fresh morning breeze.
McGonagalls first thought was to read the paper later, (after all she had a fair bit of marking still left to do,) but when she placed the paper to the side and picked up her quill to resume once more, the sun glimmered off the paper, catching her eye and dragging her attention back towards it. At first it was the title that caught her eye 'HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED GONE FOR GOOD?' then it was the photo, she'd recognise that cheeky grin anywhere.... and those lucious eyes. Oh, how could she ever forget?
Marking long forgotten Professor McGonagall dropped the elegant quill (leaving a nasty splodge of red ink on the poor students parchment) and scrambled over to grab the paper. Quickly, she unravelled it; her hands trembling profoundly as she did. Looking at the Newspaper she felt a sob wrack in her throat.
HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED GONE FOR GOOD?
James and Lily Potter found dead late hours last night, after an attack by He Who Must Not Be Named himself, after aiming to kill Harry Potter who's location was revealed by Sirius Black (son of Orion and Walburga Black.) He Who Must Not Be Named seeked out to kill the boy.
Following the incident Sirius Black set out to seek Peter Pettigrew, after he attempted to save the Potter's life. Furthermore Pettigrew's mother is set out to collect the remains of Peter Pettigrew (his index finger) and receive a First Class, Order of Merlin which Peter posthumously earned after his heroic confrontation with Sirius Black.
Harry Potter's location remains withdrawn from the public eye, until further notice. But for now, we guess he remains; The Boy Who Lived.
Minerva froze, her green eyes staring blindly at the photo of the cheeky boy; where a lightening bolt scar stood irritatingly on his forehead. Her lips trembled, she pried her eyes away, her face turning red as tears slid down her cheek.
Her cheeks soaked (along with the newspaper) McGonagall looked out of the window, onto the castle grounds. The sun shimmered and illuminated of her damp cheeks, contrasting with her foul mood. A weak cry escaped the professors lips.
Four of her students, four of her children, dead within two years of graduating. How could she of possibly failed them so badly?
McGonagall weakly lowered herself back down into her chair, her hands shaking and her sobs punching through her muscles - ringing across the walls of her office.
Students outside - lingering in the corridor early on that Sunday morning heard her wails. They could hear her cry's as she pleaded for the life of her students to be returned and for their children to not have to grow alone, as he heart was ripped out of her chest - just like it had done for her brother, Malcolm, the previous year.
Only when another bird - this time a Phoenix - flew freely through her open window, it's magnificent feathers shining in the morning light, did she dry the tears that ran freely down her cheeks.
Fawkes placed a rolled up letter down gently, moving towards the Professor and nudging his head against her arm - acknowledging her pain, and weeping in her sorrows alongside her.
The Professors shaky hand reached forward, grasping the scroll and unraveling it; the beautifully cursive writing of Albus Dumbledore stood proudly on the parchment.
Minerva,
I'm sure by now you have seen the Daily Prophet, and I regret to inform you the information stated is true. Lily and James where indeed murdered late hours last night.
My thoughts go out to you. However, their son, Harry, lived. Survived the Killing Curse straight to his head. Also, due to Sirius' recent imprisonment in Azkaban Prison, Raven is now orphaned and I intend to deliver her to her mother's brother, Leonard Howendale, later this afternoon.
Hagrid, for now, takes care of Harry and is flying the boy over the country to his Aunt and Uncles house where he will grow up outside of this world.
I have already wrote to Leondard and he has agreed to leave the country to keep Raven safe; incase the family legacy is passed on to her.
If you would, I'd appreciate it if you would join me in making sure they both get off safely, for the Dark Lords followers are still free. And there's not a single person I trust more than you.
Sincerely, Albus Dumbledore.
Minerva placed the letter back on the table, patting Fawkes on the head appreciatively, she picked up a quill and began to write.
For even though her students were dead, or left alone in the world; she wouldn't give up on their children. Kefira was a beautiful student in more ways than one, and McGonagall would be dammed if she let her daughter have the same fate.
Dear Raven, ....
Even though she didn't know when the child would return home to learn who she was born to be, McGonagall would be ready. For she would not let Harry James Potter of Raven Minerva Howendale ever be alone in the world.
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Published: 28/06/20 14:54
For the first time in my life I'm utterly speechless....
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