[Minerva POV]
It had been quite some time since I had last attended a Wizengamot meeting. A council hearing.
I hold representation in the Wizengamot.
Two votes as the head of the McGonagall family. The McGonagall was not a particularly famous, wealthy, influential or politically powerful house. Even so, the McGonagall line is ancient and was respected throughout the Wizarding Britian.
Over the centuries, we have produced quite a few scholars who have contributed immensely to in various magical fields through our deep and dedicated research.
Now, I am its only remaining member. The last McGonagall. It is not as if some great tragedy or calamity befell us. Rather, as the sun inevitably sets after a long day, so too has our family's time reached its dusk. After thriving for centuries, our line is quietly nearing its end. And when I would be gone, the name will vanish with forever.
Beyond my family's seat, I hold an additional vote as the Vice Headmistress of Hogwarts. When the school was founded, its four founders had commanded immense power and influence.
Hogwarts was also to serve as the institution that would shape the heirs and the future lords of most wizarding houses. Taking into account, these two factors, Hogwarts had been granted permanent representation in the Wizarding Council.
Two votes for the headmaster and one for the Vice headmaster.
As I said, it had been years since I had last attended a Wizengamot hearing. Truth be told, I have little interest in politics and always tried to keep myself aloof from political matters. With this aloofness, came a hardened sense of impartiality in my teaching profession and for which I had always been proud of myself.
When I was younger, many had urged me to get married, to ensure the McGonagall name did not fade from history. But I had been too strong headed, too stubborn.
My focus had solely been on my studies. First on my own education and magical research, and later, wholly on my students.
I have spent a long career at Hogwarts, and my work has always been my life. There is a special joy in passing down knowledge to the next generation. I will not claim the path was free of hardship, but it has been fulfilling. A journey I have cherished.
Yet these last seven days have been among the hardest of my life. Never did I imagine a time would come when I would find myself avoiding the eyes of one of my most beloved students.
And at moments, I have caught myself tempted, tempted to place the blame for this entire trial on the very man whose defence I now sit here to witness. But no matter no how hard I tried, I could not bring myself to blame Antonio Olario for my worries and my dilemma.
It all began when Lily Evans, spurred on by a few simple words from Lord Olario filed two formal complaints with me against two groups of students. Not that Lord Olario was in the wrong. What he had said had made complete sense.
As her Head of House, and as the Vice Headmistress of Hogwarts, it had been my duty or was supposed to me duty to investigate and address those matters without bias, fairly and decisively. But Dumbledore too all the responsibilities and duties upon himself.
But Dumbledore, he left us little room to act. As I had been instructed, I forwarded the complaint to him. And, as I had expected, no action followed. No word. No explanation. It has now been nearly seven days since I placed those parchment reports in his hands. It was silence.
Twice in that time, Lily has come to me, asking if any action had been taken. Those moments, I had always dreaded them. Feeling shameful in front of my student.
I cannot even recall what incoherent excuses I mumbled or what hollow reasons I offered to her. It was not easy for me.
What I do remember is the look in her eyes. The quiet disappointment. Every time, I saw the hope, kindled by Antonio's words, the hope that Hogwarts' inaction might yet prove him wrong, dim just a little more.
And every time I met her gaze, I felt the weight of it. I found myself looking away. Stealing my eyes from hers.
I had done as much as I could without being too obvious. James Potter had found himself on the receiving end of some harsh and sharp words and a few points deducted from Gryffindor. It was meant as a message, an indication to rein in his pranks and needless antics. And, to a degree, it worked.
His boundless energy dulled, his recklessness had tempered. But I knew it was only a temporary reprieve.
I had tried the same with the Slytherins, subtle warnings, quiet hints but they were not like James and his friends. They gave far fewer opportunities to catch them in the act.
Still, something had shifted inside me. I could not name it at first, but I knew its source.
Olario's actions. His stance had been clear, uncompromising. He had not buckled or tried to disown his actions. He had owned and owned them proudly and though I hate to admit it, his actions were correct. Only a dead Death Eater is a good Death Eater.
Yet for years, I had started to wrap myself in the comfortable illusion of kindness and empathy. But kindness alone has never stopped evil.
Dumbledore's influence and respect do not come from kindness he had. They come from power he wielded. If kindness were enough, he would have used it to defeat Grindelwald. No. Instead, he faced him in battle and struck him down.
And this had brought realisation to me. I could not blind myself in name of excuses.
Enough was enough. I had waited seven days. Seven days of doing nothing while Lily's faith in me faded a little more each time I saw her.
When this hearing is over, I will demand that Dumbledore act on those complaints. And if he refuses, then I will act myself. And this time, I will not back down.
The next time I look Lily Evans in the eye, I will not avert my gaze. I will declare to her that justice will be served.
"Esteemed members," Dumbledore's voice snapped my attention back towards the well. "Those who think Lord Olario's actions were correct and whatever he did was a necessity."
It was call to raise the wands if they supported the statement. It was time to vote.
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