minerva rose mcgonagall

[minerva rose mcgonagall]

MINERVA ROSE MCGONAGALL

NAME ;; Minerva Rose McGonagall
NICKNAMES ;; Minerva has not been called by any nickname since a time she hopes no one remembers.
AGE ;; 75
DATE OF BIRTH ;; October 4, 1925
BLOOD STATUS AND RACE ;; Pure-blood
YEAR ;;
HOUSE ;; Gryffindor
OCCUPATION ;; Headmistress
SEXUAL ORIENTATION ;; Straight
PLAY-BY ;; Maggie Smith

MINERVA is ;;
--- COURAGEOUS ;; Minerva was a Gryffindor when she was at Hogwarts and the Head of Gryffindor House for many years as a Professor, and it shows. She fought in the Grindelwald war starting immediately upon her Hogwarts graduation in June of 1944, and in both Voldemort wars as a member of the Order of the Phoenix. In the second Voldemort war, she was especially courageous in the final battle, during which she organized the evacuation of the students and led the Hogwarts suits of armor in a charge against the Death Eaters. Minerva is not all that young anymore, but she still has the mindset of a Gryffindor, and if you threaten one of her students, you had better watch out.
--- INTELLIGENT;; Minerva has always excelled at school, especially Transfiguration. She was Head Girl during her seventh year at Hogwarts, and she began her Animagus studies after her seventeenth birthday in October of the same year, under the supervision of her Transfiguration Professor, Albus Dumbledore, and a representative from the Ministry of Magic, completing them before her graduation. She has published articles in Transfiguration Weekly many times over the years, and is regarded as an expert in the field. She also possesses practical intelligence – as her enemies and her students have discovered upon many occasions, it is hard to fool Minerva McGonagall.
--- RIGID ;; Minerva is stern and strict in managing a classroom, or the whole school, and she is similarly rigid in her adherence to the rules of society and to her own moral code. She is able to bend the rules when it comes to Quidditch, but for the most part she is inflexible and uncompromising. However, she began to soften during the second war, often taking anti-authority stances when the rules ran contrary to her ideals, such as in her opposition of the Ministry in the Fudge-Umbridge period. She was also less stern and formal in personal relationships during this period, often displaying affection and concern for her students and colleagues who were at risk. Therefore, although professionally, Minerva is still strict and rigid, personally she is beginning to change.

MINERVA'S patronus is a ;; cat
MINERVA'S boggart takes the form of ;; Hogwarts, empty and abandoned

Minerva adores ;; Quidditch, Transfiguration, Scotland, books, the color green, toffee, cats, her students (even though she doesn’t show it!), Hogwarts, and the sea
Minerva abhors ;; Death Eaters, losing at Quidditch, war, Umbridge, Divination, the color pink, being underestimated, being sick or hurt, grading first year essays, and traitors

Minerva was born on a small island in the Orkneys called Kirkdunney in 1925. Her mother died when she was very young, leaving her in the care of her father, who was somewhat of an absentminded professor type. Her father’s spinster sister was also sometimes involved in her upbringing, although she lived in London.

Kirkdunney was a tiny island with just one village on it, and although it was half-muggle, half magical, everyone knew about magic there. This was because when the Statute of Secrecy was enacted, no one in the isolated community wanted to obliviate half their neighbors, so some of the Wizards and Witches from the island who worked at the Ministry classified everyone on the island as either a Wizard or a squib. Therefore, Minerva’s close childhood friends were three Muggle boys, James, Ian, and Duncan, and they remained close even after she went to Hogwarts.

James became her fiancé when they turned eighteen in 1943 and all three boys enlisted went to the war. Duncan, a fisherman’s son, went into the Navy, Ian into the Air Force, and James into the army. The Ministry took a similar stance on the Grindelwald war as the initial Fudge administration stance on the Voldemort war, saying that the Muggles could take care of themselves and Grindelwald was never going to come to England, so Minerva joined a group rather like the Order of the Phoenix to help the Muggles. The group included James Potter’s parents, Alastor Moody, and Augusta Longbottom. Minerva’s friends were their Muggle liaisons, passing them information about where the Muggles might need magical assistance and helping the Wizards pass as Muggles in the Armed forces when they needed to. Minerva’s fiancé and Mr. Potter were involved in the D-Day invasion, James as an ordinary British army soldier, and Mr. Potter to provide any magical help for the invasion he could. During the battle James took a bullet for Mr. Potter, saving his life and dying in the process. James Potter is named for him.

Minerva took the post of Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts soon after the war ended. She never married, and she returns to Kirkdunney during the summer Holidays. She owns not only her family’s ancestral home on the island, but also the cottage belonging to James Stewart’s widowed mother, who regarded Minerva as a daughter even after her son’s death. She has always had a special fondness for James Potter, because he was named for her fiancé, and had a secret wish to raise Harry herself after discovering his unhappiness at the Dursleys, but in the end her trust in Dumbledore kept her from questioning his decision. She will probably also be fond of any son of Harry’s named James, as well.

Her actions during the second Voldemort war are well known, so it need only be said that she served the Order of the Phoenix in a similar capacity in the first war to give a general idea of the events of her recent life that occurred outside of Hogwarts.

Minerva followed James to the low wood fence that separated the airfield from the sheep paddock next to it. Until a couple of weeks ago, the airfield had also been a sheep paddock, but since the Fall of France the Muggle military had been building additional facilities everywhere – even in sheep paddocks in the Scottish Highlands. Minerva supposed this training airfield would have the advantage of being well hidden, if inconveniently located. Here in the peaceful Grampians the war seemed far away and fighter planes out if place, although Minerva knew the rest of Britain was in a fever of military efficiency, the pretty English scenery marred in places by grim bombsites.


Ian and Duncan were kneeling by a wobbly post in the fence, which was rickety, uneven, and quite clearly a hasty and slipshod construction. They were probably trying to sneak past it and get closer to the aeroplanes. If it were dragons or hippogriffs in the paddock, Minerva would be right behind them, but she was still wary about flying Muggle killing machines, despite James’ reassurances.


She looked passively at the rusty red aeroplane nearest the fence. It stood in front of a dilapidated metal shack, which did not look at all like a shearing shed and therefore was as wildly out of place as the flying machines. Minerva supposed it was a supply shed or mess shack of some sort, because it certainly didn’t look watertight enough to hold anything essential. The red aeroplane itself did not look very flight worthy. To be fair, it was not lined up for takeoff in the open field like the others, so it might be under refurbishment, but Minerva suspected that the rest of the squadron assigned here would be in similar condition. Ian might go on about the great strategic value of the airfields of the Highlands, but Minerva had been to London just weeks ago when she returned from school, and she was well aware that Caithness’s sheep paddock-turned-airfield was to the rest of England’s military facilities as their tiny village school on Orkney was to Cambridge and Oxford.


“I think it’s going to be painted.” James called, from where he leaned precariously on the fence. “Red isn’t a very good color for a combat fighter.” Minerva privately thought if the Muggles needed these particular aeroplanes for combat they were in trouble. She doubted they would make it to London, let alone to battle over mainland Europe, but she decided not to say as much to James. He was less militant and enthusiastic about his war patriotism than Ian (less militant and enthusiastic than Ian about everything, really), but he was still endearingly fierce in his loyalty.


Instead, she said nothing, wandering down to the part of the fence overlooking the four planes that were ready to fly. She shielded her eyes to look at them, and then called back over her shoulder.


“James! One of these is red as well!” He loped over, graceful in spite of his gangly fifteen-year-old limbs. Minerva has always envied his habitual easy grace, especially in light of her awkwardness everywhere except on a broomstick. She had always suspected that it had something to do with the fact that James had been brought up by his widowed mother, sweet, elegant Margaret Stewart, while she had been raised by her eccentric and absentminded father.


James reached her side and surveyed the aeroplanes. His sandy hair twisted in the wind as he squinted in the sun. Minerva realized with a start that his freckles had disappeared sometime in her many months away at school. The difference was not as startling as the eight inches he had gained in her third year had been, but somehow, this was worse. The extra height had not made James seem more grown-up, he had simply looked as if he had been stretched. Now Minerva could see the shape of the adult he would be in his stronger jaw, a faint but visible five o’clock shadow, and in the loss of the childish freckles that had previously smattered the bridge of his nose. Minerva frowned, than shook off her sentimental melancholy and watched James study the planes.


“I don’t know…” James admitted finally, turning to Minerva. “Shall we ask Ian? This whole expedition was his idea.” Minerva nodded and they trudged back through the mud to the other boys.


“I thought it was Duncan’s idea” Minerva contested conversationally, frowning at her shoes. They were wearing through at the toes and she would have to be quick to ensure that her father bought her new ones before her Aunt Grisie got involved. Aunt Grisie was convinced that her father was incapable of dressing his daughter, which was admittedly true, and was determined to perform all those duties that Minerva’s dead mother no longer could. Minerva supposed Aunt Grisie’s help had been needed when she was small, but now that she was fifteen, her Aunt’s taste, which tended towards the pink and lacy, was to be avoided.


“Duncan.” James laughed, loudly enough to regain her attention, “Duncan humors Ian, but he really has very little interest in anything that isn’t to do with the sea. He’s very much an Islander, our Duncan is. You know that, Min.”


“I suppose.” She muttered, regretting the distance her months at Hogwarts every year put between her and the boys, who attended the tiny Muggle school on Kirkdunney, their home in the isles of Orkney.


Minerva forgot her gloom as she and James reached Ian and Duncan. Duncan was squatting so as to avoid getting mud all over his good clothes. Like most Island fisher folk, Duncan had only two types of clothing, the heavy work clothes he wore on his father’s fishing trawler, and one set of church clothes. His mother had been sufficiently convinced by Ian’s excited description of the airfield as a vital RAF facility to insist on his wearing the latter on this expedition. Ian, in contrast, was kneeling in the muck with no regards to his wardrobe, despite the fact that he was a townie and his clothes were much nicer than Duncan’s.


“Ian” James said, leaning on the fence, “What are they doing with the plane by the shed?” Ian looked up, eyes feverish with excitement.


“I’m not sure, but I’ve thought of some possibilities,” he began. Minerva sighed.


“Oh, here he goes again with his endless possibilities…” She muttered to James, who tried to hide his amusement. Ian was both a hopeless optimist and an incorrigible schemer, a combination that had led the four into all sorts of trouble over the years. He also could be counted on to suggest multiple “possibilities” in response to any question. Ian ignored Minerva, if he had heard her at all.


“At first I thought they were repainting it, but then I saw the other red plane, so although it’s still possible that they’re just doing them one at a time, it’s less likely. Another possibility is that they’re installing machinery so that the planes can fly better at night. I’ve heard that the military has all sorts of new technology they’re distributing to all the new planes.” Ian took a breath, and looked set to continue before Duncan interrupted him.


“Didn’t you say the RAF is requisitioning civilian planes?” he asked Ian. Ian nodded vigorously.


“Yes, every non-essential plane is being refitted for military use.” He answered, with the air of someone who is quoting something they regard as absolute authority. Although, you never knew what Ian would regard as absolute authority – he had an astonishing amount of respect for the oddest sources.


“Then probably they’re putting guns on this plane.” Duncan suggested sensibly. Minerva was willing to accept this theory, but Ian, accustomed to being the authority in the group on aircraft, was unwilling to concede the point.


“Well, that’s another possibility, I suppose,” he said grudgingly.


“Ian,” Duncan said patiently, “The bottom of the wings are labeled Rides. And they have a number to ring, to arrange for rides. That kind of plane wouldn’t have guns on it already.”


“You have point…” Ian admitted, still reluctant to give up on his many alternate scenarios.


“Ian.” Duncan chided, “I can see the guns on the other planes, and there aren’t any on this one.” Minerva avoided looking at James, who she knew must be as close to laughter as she was. There was a brief moment of silence before Ian gave in.


“You’re right, you’re right.” He grumbled. “Bloody fisherman.” Duncan only smiled, unflappable as always. James pushed himself off the fence, inspecting his fraying shirtsleeves.


“I thought the war would seem more real here then it does at home. Nothing’s changed on the Islands, but all the papers say our lives will never be the same and the whole country’s in a war fever and listening to the radio you’d think we’re about to be invaded. But even at an RAF airfield it still feels peaceful.” James mused, gesturing vaguely at the field behind him. “You could almost forget about the fall of France.” Duncan nodded.


“Forget!” Ian cried indignantly. “Haven’t you been listening to the radio? Dunkirk was less than a month ago, and there were lads our age, fishermen’s boys like Duncan, crossing the Channel at night under fire to rescue our army! And Churchill’s speech, after – ‘we shall fight on the seas and oceans! We shall fight on the beaches! We shall fight on the landing grounds! We shall fight in the fields and in the streets! We shall – ‘”1


“Yes, Ian, we heard everything you heard. Everyone listens to the radio.” James said patiently. “But you’ve got to admit the war hasn’t really touched Orkney yet. Maybe it’s because the Islands are different from the mainland, but I haven’t seen any ‘war fever’”


“We hear about shortages, but no one’s got any less on Kirkdunney, and no one’s said we need to catch more fish.” Duncan agreed softly.

“Not everything has to do with fish!” Ian said acidly, still bristling. He didn’t, however, offer any counterarguments to their points, and Minerva realized that he had none – Ian was more aware of the world beyond Kirkdunney than the others simply by virtue of his more restless personality and his mother’s job in the post office, but he, like James and Duncan, had never spent any significant amount of time away from the Island, and had never left the Scottish Highlands at all. She decided it was time to speak up.


“It’s not because of the Island culture.” She asserted, looking at James. “There’s a Muggleborn boy a year ahead of me at Hogwarts from Guernsey, and it’s really bad there. He had to go home with one of his dorm mates this summer, because Guernsey’s been occupied. His family is behind enemy lines. Guernsey’s a lot like Orkney, it’s isolated and has it’s own separate culture from the mainland, but they’re a lot more affected by the war than any other part of Britain.” Minerva kicked the wobbly fence post idly, and continued.


“Guernsey’s the worst, as far as I can tell from people talking about their letters from home, but some of the kids from Dover and Brighton and Exeter were whispering in the library, and apparently the whole southern coast is in a constant state of near panic, watching the channel for u-boats and other signs of invasion all the time. Then the kids from the factory districts around Birmingham and Manchester and Leeds, they say that everyone’s working double shifts to keep up with production demands, and everyone’s letters say it’s only a matter of time before rationing starts. And when my train home came into London…” Minerva hesitated.


“What?” Ian said, rapt with attention. She noted with surprise that Duncan and James were also completely focused on her – it was usually difficult to rouse true interest in anything but the sea from Duncan. She cleared her throat.


“It was just…well, you’ve never been to London, but it’s always so alive. It’s busy and colorful, and so…enduring. It runs like clockwork, with everybody going about his or her business no matter what’s going on. It’s difficult to believe that anything could stop London from going on just as it always has. But when I got off the train at King’s Cross Station, the whole city was grim. There were blacked out windows everywhere and people were carrying gas masks, everybody was rushing around looking terrified if they had to be doing something, and there was nobody just out and about shopping or walking. Although, I have heard from friends who live in the city that it’s gotten better since Churchill made the speech. But even though people have gotten a bit more determined and started carrying on as normally as they can, if you could see London, you would never be able to forget about the war.”

The boys were quiet, no doubt trying to imagine what Minerva had described. She knew they would not understand. How could they, when even she, who spent most of the year with students from every corner of Britain and had been to London enough times to be truly shocked the changes the outbreak of war had brought, was almost able to leave the war behind when she returned to her peaceful life in Kirkdunney for the summer?


Her childhood on Kirkdunney had been as close to idyllic as the life of an only child who has lost her mother could be, although even so Hogwarts was her favorite place on earth. Now that the war had begun, the island lacked more than magic in comparison with school. At Hogwarts she was connected, aware of world events and obligated to react to them. Returning to Kirkdunney was a return to childish innocence and ignorance, and Minerva could not help but feel that with so many of her classmates stuck returning to tense Dover, overworked Leeds, and grim London, she did not deserve to escape back into her peaceful childhood. She had been infected with war fever, but the war had not yet reached Orkney.


Over the Holidays she had always spent every waking moment with Duncan, Ian, and James. She knew the boys as well as she knew herself, and she had thought she knew how their lives would go. Duncan and James would never leave the island – Duncan loved the sea and would one day be an Orkney fisherman like his father, and James was content to live a quiet village life, taking care of his mother in the home where he was born. Ian would go off into the world, maybe, to have adventures. At least, that’s how it ought to go. But Minerva had a sick feeling in her chest that this war would take the futures they were meant to have, as often happens to boys unfortunate enough to be healthy teenagers when the world goes mad. She shook off the sensation, feeling silly for being so grim. As her father always told her, Divination was a load of crock, so one shouldn’t worry about the future.


“Ian!” Minerva said, shrugging off her black mood and looking at the boys with challenge in her eyes. “Do you reckon we can get all the way to that aeroplane before someone stops us if we just jump the fence?” James sighed and Duncan groaned, but Ian grinned wickedly, and Minerva knew, whatever was to come, today would end with the best kind of trouble.

Hey there! I'm MATILDA. I'm 19, and I've never role-played before. I found ATP through DODI. My favorite Harry Potter is PRISONER OF AZKABAN.

[/blockquote][/blockquote]
[/size][/font]

[---* dodi d e a r e s t]