A Tribute To The Boy Who Lived

Minerva McGonagall sat down while she heaved a deep sigh; of relief, woe or exhaustion, she couldn’t exactly choose which. The day had been long and full of anticipation. Arrangements had to be made, lists had to be revised, passwords had to be devised and the Sorting Hat had to be dusted. Being one of the house heads wasn’t easy and McGonagall was just starting to realize how stupendously eventful or horribly disturbing the year might turn out to be, depending on the activities of a single boy – A boy new to Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry.

Minerva pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. An image of the boy fluttered before her eyes – black hair like his father’s and green eyes unmistakably like his mother’s. She pressed her eyes harder trying to dissolve the picture in her head but it persisted. She could see the boy’s eyes light up at the site of the feast and his modest smile at the inquiry of his name. Just like his mother, she thought, the same in fact. She could see bits of his father in him too; the tousled hair and fearless personality. James and Lily would have been proud of him.

She, indeed, had known his parents; James and Lily Potter. She had seen them step through the threshold of Hogwarts for the first time just like their son had done so that morning. McGonagall had seen them grow up and fall in love. She had seen them at their worst and best, fighting together – back-to-back. The good do die young, she whispered to herself, feeling helpless as ever, as images of their dead bodies and a little boy swaddled in clothes floated in front of her eyes.

Suddenly she remembered something. McGonagall opened her eyes and checked the clock. It was already half past eleven; late but not too late. She stood up and walked across the room to her trunk. She took out a box from it and placed it on her desk. Inside the box were pictures (moving and magical) she had collected through the years of her teaching at Hogwarts. She scanned through them and picked out one – that of Lily and James during their Graduation ceremony. They were smiling and waving at the camera. Minerva remembered that it had been taken just after they had delivered one of the finest head girl and boy speeches. She quickly put the picture in an envelope along with a quickly written letter. Sealing it effortlessly with a spell, she tied it to her owl’s foot and shooed it into the dark night. Smiling to herself, she dragged her feet upstairs to her bedroom, thinking of how ecstatic Hagrid would be to see the letter. After all, that was the least she could do.

Dear Hagrid,

I hope the picture I’ve enclosed comes of great help for the picture album you are making for Harry.

Regards,

Minerva McGonagall.

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To be honest, I still haven’t figured out why I love Harry Potter so much. All I know is that it shaped my childhood and personality by filling up some kind of a void in me. It became a part of me, a very essential body part and I don’t want it to leave. I am stubborn that way, I know. Fangirls often are.

Which is why, today, on this auspicious day, I would like to publicly announce here that I love Harry Potter and that I will continue to love it till the Sun dies and pulls us into its black hole.

Also, Happy Birthday Harry and JK Rowling!!!

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Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. The characters are the sole property of Ms. JK Rowling. I have just borrowed them for a while, I guess.