Post by TartanPhoenix on Jul 30, 2005 0:14:28 GMT -5
Disclaimer: I don't own a dang thing. There's this lovely woman named J.K.Rowling that you might have heard about.
Rating:Grandma friendly. Well, maybe not my grandma
AN: I'm sorry, but I made the mistake of watching the news earlier, and the anchorman sort of miffed me off. This is what happens. I know it's way out there now because of HBP, but its the only way my mind could wrap around the situation.
Summary: Do we always understand why we do the things we do? I know I don't
Why?
The room had gone eerily silent, except for the rattling of the various pieces of china on the dinner table. The portrait of Mrs. Black had begun screaming almost instantly, but, for once, no one moved to silence her. The air was thick and sparked with the barley suppressed magic emanating from a young man. Yet again, it seemed that young Mr. Potter wasn’t able to control his temper. And, he wasn’t the only one. “We want to know what’s happening! We want to fight!” Ron Weasley was red from the top of his carrot top down to his sneaker covered toes, and he was furious.
Once again, the Order had ordered the children out of the room in Grimmuald Place so they could discuss the latest development in the war with Voldemort. As always, the teens, who currently consisted of the trio and Ginny, were shooed away, being told they were still too young. Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say to them. Harry had stood up and wheeled on Albus Dumbledore, much to the shock and horror of the other adults. No one dared to yell at Albus except Minerva, but she was a special case.
“You tell me I’m too young, but yet I’m the one person who should be here. You told me, you said it was to allow me happiness, but you’ve been blind. I can’t be happy. How can I be happy? You don’t care about anyone or anything. You only want to win; it doesn’t matter who you hurt. If it did, you wouldn’t have kept Sirius locked up, you would have explained. I’ve fought, and lived, and not only Voldemort, so how can you sit there and tell me I’m too young. I want...I need to fight.” Harry’s voice had risen higher with every word, and he was horse from screaming by the end.
Everyone sat alternately looking between he and Albus, the latter having gone sheet white. Albus had thought his relationship with the boy had been growing steadily stronger again in the short weeks that had spent together; apparently he was wrong yet again. The older man’s eyes had fallen to his wrinkled hands, watching them with interest as they rubbed together. He had the look of defeat etched in every fiber of his being.
The entire room sat, waiting to see who would speak, breaking the deadly silence that had fallen, but no one expected what would happen next. “Why?” It was a quietly spoken question coming from the witch in the back. Her raven hair was pulled back, not in her customary bun, but in a simple braid, but there was no mistaking the authority in her voice. It also seemed to have the desired effect.
Immediately, the dishes stopped shaking, and the room fell still once again. Harry lifted his eyes from Albus and turned to look at his professor, a slight frown line appearing between his brows. “Why?” he repeated back.
“Yes Harry, Why? Don’t tell me the question as escaped you. I thought you brighter then that.”
Harry continued to stare at her dumbly; the question simply couldn’t work itself out in his mind. “Why do you want to fight Harry?” Hermione whispered, speaking for the first time that night. She, like the others, wanted the ability to help, but had been brought up short by Harry’s reaction.
“Five points to Gryffindor Miss Granger. So Mr. Potter, now you’ve finished yelling at the headmaster, please enlighten me. Why do you want, and you too for that Mr. Weasley, why do you want to fight so badly?”
At least on Harry’s part, the answer came without thought, as though practiced, studied. “I want to save the wizarding world from Voldemort.”
Although she would never admit it later, Minerva managed to surprise every person in the room, save one. She snorted. “Bullocks.”
It was all she had to say before Remus managed to spray Tonks with his mouthful of tea, and Arthur tipped himself backward out of his chair, landing on the floor with a resounding thud. For Harry’s part, he bore a striking resemblance to a guppy. His mouth had fallen open, and his eyes bulged behind his glasses.
“You’re fighting for an entire world? Do not tell me that Professor Snape has been correct all this time. You cannot really be that arrogant.”
Harry had yet to close his mouth, but his eyes had lost the shock and adopted a slow burning fury. “Is that why you want to fight as well Mr. Weasley? Do you want to save the world as well?” After seeing the way she tore into Harry, Ron didn’t answer. His only response was to unclench his fists as he grew impossibly redder.
“Let’s start with an easier question then. Mr. Weasley, have you ever bothered to ask your parents why they fight? Why, they risk losing everything they hold dear? You’re a pureblooded family; they could simply have stood back and let it all unfold, and probably, none of you would ever have come to harm. Did asking ever even occur to you?”
Ron simply shook his head no, looking to his parents for any help, but they were too busy staring at Minerva. They were staring at her with looks of mingled understanding and appreciation.
“No, well why don’t we find out.” Minerva lifted her penetrating gaze from the boys, and with a much kinder expression turned to two of her oldest friends. “Why,” she asked quietly.
“People,” Arthur got out the answer first, an unusual serious tone coming from the usually jolly man. “What kind of human beings would we be if we allowed something to happen to our children, our friends. Maybe, we may have survived, but what about Remus, Hagrid, or you Minerva. You are our friends; that’s what makes up human. And,” Arthur cast a cautious glance toward Harry, “we fight for Albus. We believe in him. Is there really any other reason to fight?”
The corner of Minerva’s mouth twitched, the light just catching off the unshed tears in her eyes, before turning back to the now throughly shocked younger men. “So, it’s enough for your parents to fight for the people they love, but not for you two? Does that make my reasons insignificant as well? Does the fact that I fight for my family, my friends, is that not enough either? Does the fact that I fight for this man, the one you seem hell bound to make suffer, mean nothing as well?”
Minerva stopped, purposefully avoiding Albus’ gaze. Her heart was pounding in her ears, but she couldn’t be sure the message had sunk in, not without asking the next question. “Since it seems to matter so much, why don’t we ask him? What could drive the man we all follow to fight, to take abuse from those around him, and then endure it from you as well.”
All eyes turned toward Albus. He hadn’t looked up from his hands though the entire exchange, never said a word. “There is no need to ask me Minerva. I fight for the same reasons as everyone here. To look myself in the eye if anything ever happened to you or the children because I failed to act would be impossible. The world means very little to me; you and the children are my world. You are my light in the darkness, my shelter from the cold. If I were to lose you, I would stumble forever through the darkness.”
His voice had tapered off, the only sounds being heard were the sniffles coming from almost every person in the room. The adults, at least, had known, but none of them truly realized just how strong their bond was.
Minerva simply waited until Albus lifted his eyes, the sheer amount of love and fear warring there almost knocked her backward. “You fight for love,” she said quietly. Albus nodded, never taking his eyes off hers. “What else is there?”
“Nothing Albus, nothing that matters. Do you see now,” she asked, returning her attention to the shocked students, “why we don’t allow you in? You say you’re old enough, but you don’t even understand why we fight, why you should. It’s people Harry. It’s the connections and relationships we make that makes it all worth it. Without them, why does anything matter? Now,” she said standing up from her seat, “I suggest you four go to your rooms. We have a meeting to conduct. When you can understand what we’ve told you, then you’re welcome to join us.”
The adults watched as each of the students turned, a dazed look on their faces, and filed out of the room without further comment. The adults, for their part, were also quiet. It was one thing to know in some way why they fought, it was another thing altogether to hear it spoken out loud. Everyone had a lot to think about, but first, there was business to attend to as Albus called the meeting to order. His eyes never left her.
AN2: I wasn't actually sure just where this belonged, so I hope this is alright.
Rating:Grandma friendly. Well, maybe not my grandma
AN: I'm sorry, but I made the mistake of watching the news earlier, and the anchorman sort of miffed me off. This is what happens. I know it's way out there now because of HBP, but its the only way my mind could wrap around the situation.
Summary: Do we always understand why we do the things we do? I know I don't
Why?
The room had gone eerily silent, except for the rattling of the various pieces of china on the dinner table. The portrait of Mrs. Black had begun screaming almost instantly, but, for once, no one moved to silence her. The air was thick and sparked with the barley suppressed magic emanating from a young man. Yet again, it seemed that young Mr. Potter wasn’t able to control his temper. And, he wasn’t the only one. “We want to know what’s happening! We want to fight!” Ron Weasley was red from the top of his carrot top down to his sneaker covered toes, and he was furious.
Once again, the Order had ordered the children out of the room in Grimmuald Place so they could discuss the latest development in the war with Voldemort. As always, the teens, who currently consisted of the trio and Ginny, were shooed away, being told they were still too young. Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say to them. Harry had stood up and wheeled on Albus Dumbledore, much to the shock and horror of the other adults. No one dared to yell at Albus except Minerva, but she was a special case.
“You tell me I’m too young, but yet I’m the one person who should be here. You told me, you said it was to allow me happiness, but you’ve been blind. I can’t be happy. How can I be happy? You don’t care about anyone or anything. You only want to win; it doesn’t matter who you hurt. If it did, you wouldn’t have kept Sirius locked up, you would have explained. I’ve fought, and lived, and not only Voldemort, so how can you sit there and tell me I’m too young. I want...I need to fight.” Harry’s voice had risen higher with every word, and he was horse from screaming by the end.
Everyone sat alternately looking between he and Albus, the latter having gone sheet white. Albus had thought his relationship with the boy had been growing steadily stronger again in the short weeks that had spent together; apparently he was wrong yet again. The older man’s eyes had fallen to his wrinkled hands, watching them with interest as they rubbed together. He had the look of defeat etched in every fiber of his being.
The entire room sat, waiting to see who would speak, breaking the deadly silence that had fallen, but no one expected what would happen next. “Why?” It was a quietly spoken question coming from the witch in the back. Her raven hair was pulled back, not in her customary bun, but in a simple braid, but there was no mistaking the authority in her voice. It also seemed to have the desired effect.
Immediately, the dishes stopped shaking, and the room fell still once again. Harry lifted his eyes from Albus and turned to look at his professor, a slight frown line appearing between his brows. “Why?” he repeated back.
“Yes Harry, Why? Don’t tell me the question as escaped you. I thought you brighter then that.”
Harry continued to stare at her dumbly; the question simply couldn’t work itself out in his mind. “Why do you want to fight Harry?” Hermione whispered, speaking for the first time that night. She, like the others, wanted the ability to help, but had been brought up short by Harry’s reaction.
“Five points to Gryffindor Miss Granger. So Mr. Potter, now you’ve finished yelling at the headmaster, please enlighten me. Why do you want, and you too for that Mr. Weasley, why do you want to fight so badly?”
At least on Harry’s part, the answer came without thought, as though practiced, studied. “I want to save the wizarding world from Voldemort.”
Although she would never admit it later, Minerva managed to surprise every person in the room, save one. She snorted. “Bullocks.”
It was all she had to say before Remus managed to spray Tonks with his mouthful of tea, and Arthur tipped himself backward out of his chair, landing on the floor with a resounding thud. For Harry’s part, he bore a striking resemblance to a guppy. His mouth had fallen open, and his eyes bulged behind his glasses.
“You’re fighting for an entire world? Do not tell me that Professor Snape has been correct all this time. You cannot really be that arrogant.”
Harry had yet to close his mouth, but his eyes had lost the shock and adopted a slow burning fury. “Is that why you want to fight as well Mr. Weasley? Do you want to save the world as well?” After seeing the way she tore into Harry, Ron didn’t answer. His only response was to unclench his fists as he grew impossibly redder.
“Let’s start with an easier question then. Mr. Weasley, have you ever bothered to ask your parents why they fight? Why, they risk losing everything they hold dear? You’re a pureblooded family; they could simply have stood back and let it all unfold, and probably, none of you would ever have come to harm. Did asking ever even occur to you?”
Ron simply shook his head no, looking to his parents for any help, but they were too busy staring at Minerva. They were staring at her with looks of mingled understanding and appreciation.
“No, well why don’t we find out.” Minerva lifted her penetrating gaze from the boys, and with a much kinder expression turned to two of her oldest friends. “Why,” she asked quietly.
“People,” Arthur got out the answer first, an unusual serious tone coming from the usually jolly man. “What kind of human beings would we be if we allowed something to happen to our children, our friends. Maybe, we may have survived, but what about Remus, Hagrid, or you Minerva. You are our friends; that’s what makes up human. And,” Arthur cast a cautious glance toward Harry, “we fight for Albus. We believe in him. Is there really any other reason to fight?”
The corner of Minerva’s mouth twitched, the light just catching off the unshed tears in her eyes, before turning back to the now throughly shocked younger men. “So, it’s enough for your parents to fight for the people they love, but not for you two? Does that make my reasons insignificant as well? Does the fact that I fight for my family, my friends, is that not enough either? Does the fact that I fight for this man, the one you seem hell bound to make suffer, mean nothing as well?”
Minerva stopped, purposefully avoiding Albus’ gaze. Her heart was pounding in her ears, but she couldn’t be sure the message had sunk in, not without asking the next question. “Since it seems to matter so much, why don’t we ask him? What could drive the man we all follow to fight, to take abuse from those around him, and then endure it from you as well.”
All eyes turned toward Albus. He hadn’t looked up from his hands though the entire exchange, never said a word. “There is no need to ask me Minerva. I fight for the same reasons as everyone here. To look myself in the eye if anything ever happened to you or the children because I failed to act would be impossible. The world means very little to me; you and the children are my world. You are my light in the darkness, my shelter from the cold. If I were to lose you, I would stumble forever through the darkness.”
His voice had tapered off, the only sounds being heard were the sniffles coming from almost every person in the room. The adults, at least, had known, but none of them truly realized just how strong their bond was.
Minerva simply waited until Albus lifted his eyes, the sheer amount of love and fear warring there almost knocked her backward. “You fight for love,” she said quietly. Albus nodded, never taking his eyes off hers. “What else is there?”
“Nothing Albus, nothing that matters. Do you see now,” she asked, returning her attention to the shocked students, “why we don’t allow you in? You say you’re old enough, but you don’t even understand why we fight, why you should. It’s people Harry. It’s the connections and relationships we make that makes it all worth it. Without them, why does anything matter? Now,” she said standing up from her seat, “I suggest you four go to your rooms. We have a meeting to conduct. When you can understand what we’ve told you, then you’re welcome to join us.”
The adults watched as each of the students turned, a dazed look on their faces, and filed out of the room without further comment. The adults, for their part, were also quiet. It was one thing to know in some way why they fought, it was another thing altogether to hear it spoken out loud. Everyone had a lot to think about, but first, there was business to attend to as Albus called the meeting to order. His eyes never left her.
AN2: I wasn't actually sure just where this belonged, so I hope this is alright.
. It portrays especially Minerva wonderfully, and it's in my opinion superbly written. Great job, really 
