#minerva mcgonagall
*teachers lounge*
“So Mr. Snape. The students have had a lot to say about you.”
“It’s all the talk in my classroom too Mr. Snape”
“Minerva. Remus. Enough out of you two. I hear enough of this in class. There aren’t enough detentions to make them stop. I don’t even know what this “degree” is. And why do you still get called professor?”
I know there has been a first year who went into transfiguration class and upon seeing the cat version of McGonagall IMMEDIATELY BEGAN TO PET HER
and the few students who know start panicking just for her to transform into her normal self and awkwardly begin class
That first year would never live it down
“I heard what happened in transfiguration class”
“…”
“What? Cat got your tongue?”
If each of the characters had YouTube channels, this is what they would be part 3 - prof addition:
(Obviously their content would be about what they teach but aside from that)
McGonagall: chess strategy
Snape: for some reason I think he’d write really cringy poetry and recite it monotonely
Dumbledore: knitting duh
Flitwick: sings covers of songs. Also uploads performances of the Hogwarts choir
Sprout: I feel like she would be a roller blade girl? Like she’d post videos of her skating around. Super aesthetic
Hagrid: gardening tips, tea time. Honestly super domestic and homey vibes
Slughorn: party vlogger
We could argue all day about the morality of Severus Snape but that will never stop me from loving the headcannon of alliance between Snape and McGonagall during the time of Umbridge
sirius: if there is a god up there, he is cruel and has abandoned humanity.
lily: what happened?
remus: minnie said she doesn’t like dogs
sirius, sobbing violently: SHE DOESN’T LOVE ME
severus’ sixty-first birthday
- minerva sends severus a birthday card every year and though she doesn’t sign it or return address it, he knows they’re from her. they worked together for years, he recognizes her handwriting
- he’s not entirely sure how she found his address but maybe owls are just that good at tracking people. still, she never asks to see him or mentions how the rest of the wizarding world has long thought he’s dead
- at this point, he opens his kitchen window in the morning and watches the sun peaking over the horizon as it starts to rise, sipping on his coffee, as he waits for the letter to arrive
- he’ll read through it, smiling softly (though he wonders about the part where she mentions a gift on the way. shes never sent anything more than a card) before tucking the card away with all the others. he’ll get dressed then and then walk into town. it’s a quiet place where he’s chosen to live and he’s made friendly with a number of people and sometimes he misses the vibrancy of the wizarding world and the comaderie of being a hogwarts professor but that atmosphere had long fizzled out and going back would never truly mean going back. he’s moved on and he’s fine with that
- he prefers early morning to get the shopping done. it’s less crowded and the world feels untouched, pure and magical, at this hour. he’ll stop at the local bakery, buy himself a pastry and another cup of coffee, savoring sweet almond and blueberry, before continuing to the grocery store and picking up the few things he needs for tonight’s dinner
- its his 61st birthday today and though he doesn’t want to make a big deal out of his birthday, he’s learned that it’s okay to celebrate your own existence and indulge in the things that make him happy
- as it stands, a well made shepherds pie with good bread and red wine would make him very happy today
- his grocery tote is charmed to keep cool and feather light, so after gathering what he needs he’ll head to the bookshop. this is one of his favorite activities and absolutely not reserved for his birthday. his favorite bookshop is old and quaint, hosting strange books with mysterious origins. a lot of the locals think its all false but severus has a trained eye and can recognize magical tombs when he sees them. the first time he came, he cleared out any that could be considered dangerous to muggles. now he likes to browse through the remains and pick up a new read or two; they’re not all magical but they are all interesting. the shopkeeper is a very old woman who looks very out of place in this millennium, but he supposes he does too some days
- she wishes him a happy birthday, eyeing his black coat with a certain kind of scrutiny he’s gotten used to from her. he was never able to give up his long coats and now he wears them unbuttoned over black turtlenecks. it makes him look less imposing, he supposes, although enough people have asked what he teaches that it sets him on edge
- he doesn’t remember when she learned his birthday, but he pays it no mind. a few of the people he’s come across here have learned his birthday by now. its the reason he’ll get a free scoop of ice cream on his way home. she always looks at him like he’s familiar but just can’t place how, and part of him worries she’s going barmy and starting to forget he’s been coming here for years
- as he’s paying for the two new books he’s found, she says something that feels like its meant to be a warning but feels more like a threat: the aurors are in town today
- “pardon?” he asks, but she just smiles sweetly and waves him off like nothing was amiss, as if his blood hadn’t just turned to ice beneath his skin
- he leaves the shop numbly, thinking it over. she couldnt have meant anything serious by it, although now he’s kicking himself for not realizing she was a witch (or perhaps a squib?) he kept up with the wizarding world fairly regularly when he’d first disappeared. he knew potter had cleared his name posthumously and that he was hailed a hero, so whatever the reason for the aurors being in town, it has nothing to do with him. he decides to carry on as normal; too many years have passed for him to be known by this new generation of aurors.
- he does get his free ice cream, a scoop of vanilla caramel with a drizzle of chocolate, and he’s sitting in a wrought iron chair outside the shop, under a carefully cast warming charm to keep him comfortable in the january air but with a cooling charm cast over his frozen treat, when he sees them
- there’s two of them, fairly young and most likely born during the second war. they’re dressed in the muggle version of their uniform he’s come to recognize and watches them from his peripheral as they head down the street and wonders what they could be in town for
- he doesn’t notice the third, older auror watching him with widening eyes, no longer paranoid enough to check who’s standing behind him, as he swirls his spoon through the remnants of melted ice cream and gets lost in his thoughts
- he heads home after that, lights a fire, and makes a tomato and cheese sandwich for lunch. he catches up on a few episodes of his current favorite show (a historical drama this time) and enjoys his quiet afternoon
- when its time to start on dinner, he’ll put something on the record player (he’s got a soft spot for the record player alright, he’s aware of what spotify is, he just enjoys the nostalgia of vinyl), and get to work. he’s got a glass of wine and he’s singing along to pearl jam as he cuts carrots and potatoes
- he grows wild thyme and rosemary in the front yard, right next to the white chrysanthemums, so he puts his spoon down and goes to fetch some
- he doesn’t expect to find potter standing just outside the gate with a pink bakery box in his hands looking simultaneously like a deer in the headlights and like he’s just seen a ghost. which he supposes he has
- he ignores him in favor of picking the herbs. once he’s done, he glances once in the direction of harry potter before returning inside. he leaves the door open and waits. it isn’t until the herbs are washed and finely chopped, being stirred into the stew, that potter finally enters the kitchen. he holds the box tightly and blurts out “i thought you were dead”
- “evidently not.” severus responds, spooning the mix into a baking dish and begins to top it with the mashed potatoes. “how did you find me?”
- he mutters some nonsense of working a case involving a local store selling magical wares to muggles (and severus frowns at this information, worried it might be imelda) and seeing him outside the ice cream shop. getting his address wasn’t that hard and the cake he brought was simply a social nicety
- perhaps he hasn’t been a professor for years now but he can still smell bullshit so he raises an eyebrow at the answer he’s gotten. potter has grown in the years since he’s seen him, no longer a strong-willed seventeen year old but now a tired looking auror of forty who’s still just as bad at lying as he ever was. he thinks how he was around his age when they last spoke and that fact feels a little dizzying
- “you dont seem that surprised.” severus muses, putting the pie in the oven and bringing down another glass. he has a feeling potter will be staying and the idea is already giving him headache. he thinks back to minervas letter and wonders if this is what she meant. perhaps its time to finally write back, he thinks, as he pours them each some wine; they have a lot to talk about it seems
Image Description: A digital drawing of a polaroid photo in sepia colours with the words “The Gateways 1960” scribbled underneath the picture. The polaroid shows Minnie and Poppy on their first date slow-dancing at the Gateways Club. Minnie is wearing a sleeveless jumpsuit with white polka dots and a deep V neckline, Poppy is wearing a white blouse with short sleeves and a high collar as well as a dark maxi skirt. Minnie and Poppy have their hair in artfully arranged updos, they are smiling widely and only have eyes for each other. They don’t even notice the women dancing in the background or sitting at the small tables next to them. Art by celilasart. End description.
HP WLW BigBang Art Claim: Minerva/Poppy
Illustration for the amazing fic “When the world is on fire, I want you with me to watch it burn”by@lalalaartje with lovely art by @agentmoppet
The fic, this fic, I was allowed to create art for, is absolutely phenomenal. Whether Minnie & Poppy are your OTP or you’ve never read a single fic for this pairing, this fic is for you! It’s just beautiful how we follow these two through the decades :))
Go check it out and please have a look at all the other amazing works of @hpwlwbigbang
Post-transformation
After full moons, Remus was a wreck, he was lethargic, sore all over, and red from the new bruises and scars he had acquired through the night.
- Oftentimes, he’d try to make it through lessons the next day, cloth bandages seeping with blood as he stumbled up and down the stairs, assisted by James and Sirius when his legs gave way. Halfway through he’d have to stop; by then a migraine would kick in, or his limbs would ache so greatly when he moved them that they would go numb and limp. Sirius always made sure he sat next to Remus in classes, so when it ended and the other students had left, he could discreetly carry him over to Madam Pomfrey. Remus would thank him apologetically, slumping in the bed as aches and pains continued to plague him. He could never conceal his frustration with the fact that he’d ‘given up’, announcing he would be fine by tomorrow. Peter would always smile in agreement, “Of course Moony, just rest now.”
- Sometimes, he’d be so tired that nothing could wake him - and in the morning the Marauders would quietly get ready, leaving their dorm floor clear so he wouldn’t trip, and make sure some water and chocolate were placed by the bed - so if he woke up alone and unable to go to the kitchens at some point in the day, he’d have something to nibble on. Although James would reassure him, “Mate, you don’t have to leave the bed - don’t worry about anything, we’ve got you.” He’d still stumble out to do his homework, and on rare occasions, Sirius would discover him slumped over his desk, overcome with exhaustion. Remus would awaken - mysteriously back in his bed - tucked in cozily with Sirius sat beside him.
- The other Gryffindors were always curious as to how James and Sirius could possibly be hungry enough to take spare food back to the dorm, but the house elves knew to leave a plate and utensils so Peter, James and Sirius could empty the contents of their stowaway dinner onto it and deliver it to him.
- When it was really bad, Remus wouldn’t wake up until the middle of the night following his transformation; but he always awoke to a drowsy Sirius - with a cushion propped up by the bedside table and and a hand outstretched clasping his. “What are you doing awake at this hour?” He would whisper, combing his tense fingers through Sirius’ dark mane, to which Sirius would mutter something or other about a homework he hadn’t done or a book he was reading: Sirius was a terrible liar. Every single time, Remus would insist: “Pads, I’m fine, stop waiting up for me like this. I need you to sleep and not worry.” Sirius would nod his head, “Okay, okay - I promise.” - but he’d never stop, not even in Azkaban - where he’d perch anxiously by the cold window, staring at the full moon.
- The Marauders would always delegate Remus’ classnotes and homeworks, which he hated, and always tried to cram in the week before his transformation to save his friends the trouble of completing all his work for him. James had unofficially decided to cover Transfiguration, Arithmancy and Potions, Sirius helped with Ancient Runes (though it was admittedly his worst subject), Charms, Divination and DADA, and Peter would pitch in with Astronomy, History of Magic and Herbology. Professors would occasionally receive identical homeworks with the same handwriting - but knew better than to inquire further: McGonagall had already chatted to teachers about leniency for Mr Lupin.
- While Remus was resting in the hospital wing or the dorm, McGonagall would arrange to meet with the other boys: “How is he doing, Mr Potter?” “Have a biscuit, Sirius.” “Mr Pettigrew, I have spoken to Professor Sprout, about your recent absence of homework and ensured she will be more understanding of the situation in the future.” “So, I don’t have detention on Saturday?” As she watched them trail off to check on their friend, she couldn’t stop the smile that softened her serious demeanour. “Alright, Minerva?” Dumbledore would quip, pulling a lemon sherbert from his pocket. She’d smirk, “I have a reputation to uphold, Albus.” and promptly return to her usual affairs.
James: I suppose I do have the slight tendency to be a bit hyperactive at times.
Peter:Suppose?
Remus:Slight?
Lily:“Tendency”?
Sirius: A bit?
Professor McGonagall: At times?!
Summary: Minerva McGonagall finds herself in the hospital wing once again. Luckily, her fellow sixth-year Poppy Pomfrey is on-hand to help…
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Hi all, this is a little different to what I normally write, but I hope you enjoy it!
Also, check out @anniemay-af’s awesome McPop artworks, which helped inspire this drabble.
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‘Again, Minerva?’
The Scottish witch scowled over the top of her spectacles. The large bruise on her cheek was already pretty purple as it was.
‘It is hardly my fault if the Slytherins insist on being beastly.’
Poppy Pomfrey chuckled. It was her volunteer shift in the hospital wing. The current matron had popped out for a moment and she was looking after the place. And, as ever, one Gryffindor sixth year in particular would arrive with various injuries.
Dark and disheartening times again, so I thought to make a special that feels warm, safe and cozy.
Post link
McGonagall to Hermione snatching the Time-Turner from the hands
I’d watch this version of Harry Potter and all proceeds will go towards lgbtqia+ charities and organizations. That phobic having ass of a hag can go die on a toilet for all I care… and I don’t mean Moaning Myrtle…
