“Minerva, you don’t have children…”
When James Potter was caught out of bed, pacing, wringing his hands, because his father was away on a mission (fight me), she had wrapped an arm around him and had escorted him into her office, whereupon she had given him tea and a biscuit, distracting him with talk of Quidditch.
“You don’t have children…”
She was one of the few people (outside the Marauders) who could see right through Sirius’ mask and when she saw him receive the envelope that contained a tiny piece of tapestry, she marched him into her office and told him that quite frankly, she was proud of him for having the strength to leave that horrid house, and that now he could show his true potential and “No, Mister B-Sirius, I don’t think you’ll ever have to worry about ending up in Azkaban because you’re not like them.”
“You don’t have children…”
Before there was a stag, a dog, and a rat, there was a cat, bravely entering the Shrieking Shack to make sure that Remus Lupin was all right. She stayed with him until dawn and sent him chocolate for a week thereafter.
“You don’t have children…”
She knew that Peter Pettigrew was going to cry before he did. She was trained in seeing the signs. And sure enough, he burst into tears, telling her that he might as well be a Squib. And she gave him a biscuit (he took two) before firmly telling him that he had the makings of a great wizard and he had loyal friends to boot.
“You don’t have children…”
She saw the Dark Mark on Regulus Black’s arm. She saw the fear in his eyes. And though he wasn’t one of her own, she still caught him in the corridor and told him that Sirius had spent the morning bragging about how quickly Regulus had captured the Snitch. Two minutes and thirty-seven seconds. It was a record. He interrupted her class at least seven times to talk about it. That’s how proud he was. And there was no mistaking the sparkle in Regulus’ eye, the skip in his step as he walked away.
“You don’t have children…”
She held Lily’s hand as Sirius and Remus fretted over a passed-out James. And with a scream, a push, and a cry, a new baby entered the world. Lily held him first, of course. And then he was passed to her, to hold close. She was the first one to mention that he had Lily’s eyes.
“You don’t have children…”
She protested, loudly, when he was placed with his aunt and uncle. She kept an eye on him at the schoolyard, using a bit of magic here and there to help him escape the bullies. She sent him his first broom. She cried when he caught the Snitch and again when he lay in the Hospital Wing. She did everything within her power to protect him. From jinxed brooms. From an escaped murderer. From a corrupted government. She watched over him for years. She screamed, louder than anyone, when she saw his dead body. And when the battle was over, she was the first to reach him, tears falling down her face.
“You don’t have children…”
She was there for James’ birth, for Albus’ birth (”Really, Potter, Albus?”) and for Lily’s birth. She came to Sunday brunch and she came to tea. She sent presents during Christmas and birthdays. She knew everyone’s favorite book, color, and food.
“You don’t have children…”
She was always there for him. She always would be.
“You don’t have children…”
She had dozens of children.
Including one very ungrateful son.
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