jilylicious:

It had started even before the war. 

When Minerva received the news of Euphemia Potter passing, she had dropped the goblet she was holding in her hand, her eyes fixed on the messy haired boy who was so in love with his mother. Her eyes then moved to the boy right across him, with his hair as dark as his last name, he was laughing with a glint to his pale grey eyes. Euphemia Potter, one of the most amazing witches Minerva had the honour to meet had died because of something as miserable as dragon pox and Minerva had to break the news to her sons. She would have chosen to be buried alive rather than see the desperate look in the eyes of the tall boy and the fear in the eyes of the so-called blood traitor. The way James Potter had seemed so small suddenly, the way he had to hold onto Sirius to stay standing and the way Sirius’ eyes went completely empty was all too much for Minerva but she was strong, she had to be strong for her boys. They were a handful but they were her boys.

She wondered why bad things happened to good people.

It hadn’t been even two months, when she received the passing away of Fleamont Potter. He had lost the will to live after losing Euphemia and he was holding on for the sake of his sons but dragonpox didn’t care for two boys. Now, they were alone. James Potter took one look towards Minerva, who was standing her face as pale as the wall behind her, for James to understand what was going on and Sirius took one look at James and disappeared into the dark corridors. It never got easier and Minerva called James with a small move of her hand to her room, she knew her boy, she knew he wasn’t going to show how he felt in front of everyone. So, she let him scream and cry and break everything he could reach inside her office and then she held him through his tears, she held him until he stopped shaking with the injustice of it all. Minerva never had a child but she didn’t think James Potter was anything less.

Kids shouldn’t be fighting a war. 

It had taken seven death eaters to take down the Prewett twins, that was what Moody had said to Minerva to explain how they fought so bravely and took down all with gushes on their cheeks and stuns to their hearts. Maybe he thought it would make it easier for Minerva to accept the death of the ginger haired boys, one right after the other in this never ending war they they shouldn’t have been fighting in the first place. She knew she would never forget the look on Molly’s face when she had seen Albus and her at the door with Bill in her arms. Minerva didn’t know but she would meet the twins again soon.

Being strong had never been so hard for Minerva.

Marlene McKinnon wasn’t a Gryffindor but Minerva knew the blonde haired girl like the back of her hand. She reminded Minerva of herself every time she would speak. She had a elegance to her but her fury was something to behold. She was too young to be fighting a war let alone die. She didn’t need to receive a letter to know what had happened, it was all over the Daily Prophet. The Dark Mark above her house, her whole family and the ruthless girl that fought for everyone were gone. Minerva stood tall and strong for her students, they were more than her students though; they were the children Minerva never had and Minerva didn’t know if she could take another funeral like this. 

The war didn’t wait to show her that she had to.

Dorcas Meadowes knew how to fight as well as she knew how to fly. Minerva had seen her in Quidditch matches giving the Gryffindor Beaters a round for their money, she had a bright future ahead of her. Minerva enjoyed her presence and their conversations about the ministry and the school. It wasn’t long after Marlene had been taken by the darkness that surrounded the whole world, her future wasn’t bright anymore since it didn’t exist. There was a burn mark close to her heart and Minerva felt like she wasn’t so strong anymore but she held her head high as another one of her children went six feet under.

“These kids,” she wanted to scream “they have to live”.

Her boy, marked for death betrayed by his brother. Minerva struggled to stay standing when she saw the war was won because for her, this wasn’t a victory. James and Lily were twenty-one years old. Twenty-one was too young to have a fate like this. Twenty-one was the age to laugh and fall in love not to die wandless on the floor or with red hair like flames with tears dried on your face. James Potter should have become and international Quidditch star with the way he flew at the age of twenty one and Lily Evans should have trained to become a Potions master with her talents. Twenty-one wasn’t the age for them to die but death didn’t listen.

I cannot take another.