regarding the deaths âââ Minerva McGonagall & Greta Catchlove June 25, 1978
She wished that they were in her office at Hogwarts so that she could at least provide her the dignity of privacy while talking about this. Students preferred to discuss low scores on exams in privateââ and that seemed inconsequential when faced with the enormity of war. How could she expect her to keep talking about this on a Muggle streetââ whether it was busy or not? On the other hand, she needed to talk about itââ she couldnât or at least felt that she couldnât with her parents at the moment.
Her eyes followed Miss Catchloveâs nervous movements- quietly observing the way she fiddled with her hands.
It was hard for her to tell if the girl found it difficult to talk in general or if it were merely their location causing her to be uncomfortable. For a moment she considered offering to apparate her (even the Three Broomsticks would be a less uncomfortable place to have this conversation than a muggle street.) but was reluctant to make the suggestion just yet. She didnât want to make her feel obligated to commit to a conversation she might not be willing to have.Â
Minerva looked away from Miss Catchlove for a moment, staring out at the Muggle street for a bit of distanceââ to avoid looking visibly concerned for her studentââ and failed. No matter the attempts to avoid the worried looks (she didnât want to scare her even more than she likely already was) she couldnât help the sympathy that she felt for the girl. Her brows furrowed. Knowing that she was Muggle-born and could be a target for an attackâŠ
âThat makes all of this harder,â she said, looking back at her again. She faltered, mouth opening before shutting tightly again.Â
The statement âsomeone like meâ needed to be addressed. Miss Catchlove was seventeenââ anything less than acknowledging it would be patronizing. She knew that she was in danger. Yet seventeen was so very young. She was just a girl.
âI understand your reluctance. Iâm a Half-blood. My father is a Muggle. It can be very difficult to talk to Muggle parents about all of this. Being Half-blood is not the same as being Muggle-born of courseââ not asâŠâ Dangerous? Her mother had been called a blood traitor and being part of the Order was putting herself in the line of fire but she wasnât a target for just existing. âNot as hard. You will have to tell them about it eventually thoughââ they might not be able to do much but they can be supportive. Itâs best that you tell them soon so that they can be aware of the risksââ and that you can have someone to talk to about all of this.â
There was only so much that she could do as a professor and she needed to make sure that Miss Catchlove had someone to confide inââ and parents were usually the best option. It could be more difficult with Muggle parents who didnât understand the wizarding world or all of the politics involved. It would be even more difficult for theme to understand that witches and wizards with Muggle parentage were at risk of hate crimes. Her mother had kept her father mostly in the dark about it all and though he tried there were some things he would never understand completely.
âIt has to be scary,â Minerva said quietly. Even if they girl hadnât said directly that it was scaring her the events would have to be terrifying. They worried Minerva and she was an adult. Everyone was growing more fearful over the attacks. âEspecially if youâre dealing with it all by yourself. Do you think that you could tell them about it?â
She had slipped. As her professor spoke, she knew she had, knew that she had told the wrong lies. She should have made it seem like her parents were completely up to date and completely understanding and maybe even a bit annoyingly concerned. If she had done so, professor McGonagall wouldn't have told her that her parents would be supportive, that she would be able to talk to them about it.
Because that was not how they would respond. Greta had thought about their reaction for quite some time, having come to the conclusion that this would not change a thing â that the best that could happen would be them responding as usual: with a shrug, a few words that didn't mean anything and then returning to whatever it was they were doing. The worst would most probably be them telling her that there was a truth to the ideas the Death Eaters followed, because Greta, you are indeed unnatural.
She didn't want to talk about her parents, it was simple as that. But dismissing the subject would cause concern, probably, and so her mind raced, prepared to spin more webs of lies to create a fake reality â the fake reality that was usually such a relief, but now felt suffocating.
The desire to get up and walk away was growing with each second too, panic flaring through her stomach ââ because what if she was unable to make her lies believable, and would cause more problems by worrying her teacher? This could go downhill so easily, could end up in a situation she had carefully avoided for six years and the thought was enough to make her stomach clench anxiously.
Her mouth opened and closed again. She was falling, nervousness filling her up, muscles tensing and no matter how often she told herself to get herself together, she only seemed to become more stressed out, the sheer panic resulting in more â she shouldn't, couldn't panic.
It was almost crazy, how in just one small moment, her worries about the war and Katherine had been pushed away by the turn the conversation had taken.
"I suppose I will have to tell them," she said after a silence that had lingered on too long. Arms wrapped themselves around her stomach in an attempt to ban the anxious pains that shot through them.
Just keep talking. Keep talking and calm down.Â
"I just ââ I can talk to someone else about it, too. I have friends, other friends. I â wouldn't it be better to talk to someone who understands it better? I mean, they know what's going on, and some were friends with her too."
Wrong, it was all wrong. The fact that she seemed reluctant to tell her parents was wrong, the fact that she had messed up the start of not one but two sentences was wrong, and above all, the fact that she could only feel the panic increasing was wrong. Normally, this was where she would close her eyes and focus on her breathing. Usually when these things happened, she was on her own.
"But I will, tell them. Of course I can, they're my parents. Don't worry about it." But her voice was distant, the emptiness of them growing clearer as she moved through the sentences. Falling, she kept on falling, control slipping through her fingers as she lost the capability to lie, the capability to do what was necessary.
And before returning to silence, she quickly added, "I will, soon. Really. It's just not.. a fun conversation to have, you know? It's bad news and all, and I suppose I just need a little bit of time to, I don't know, prepare."
