Harry Potter One Shots

These Hallowed Halls

All rights belong to the author, Strega Brava

The swirling images do not help me tonight. As I look closer and closer, I find myself becoming discouraged by the moments in time, which peek through the gray mists. So many mistakes along the way. Not enough time taken to consider other possibilities. These vignettes from my past show me just how fallible I have always been. If only...

Sighing to myself, I get up and put the Pensieve away. Although it is a very useful item, it has not been so tonight, leaving me somewhat restless and agitated. In the past, it has been helpful and allowed me to find patterns in past experiences that I would otherwise have missed. Patterns, which helped me, predict and helped me prevent many tragedies. Many...but not all. That is the trouble but, perhaps, I am not being realistic. After all, these are my thoughts in this tempest-tossed cup and I am only one person...my perceptions and my views are hardly perfect.

"You were no better than I," I speak rather disrespectfully to the photographs of my predecessors who look back at me with some degree of surprise on their faces. I have never spoken ill of them in the past...always according them an appropriate degree of respect as was their due. But they never had to deal with an entity like Voldemort. Someone so madly possessed of a desire for power and purification that it brings to my mind one of the worst muggle leaders in my memory. It is funny how I cannot bring myself to say...his name and yet I can name Voldemort freely.

"Besides," I think to myself, "I will one day be like you, simply the memory of a person spending the rest of eternity looking out on a world I was once a part of...a world I loved."

All the former headmasters and headmistresses look at me with concern. They know the burden I willingly bear. They fear I will break. I will not break.

My gaze drifts over to the Sorting Hat and I smile despite myself. Yes, this old hat and I are a lot alike. We both are very useful despite our appearances. I know my students look at me with wonder that I am still Headmaster. Perhaps they think that I have stockpiled vast quantities of elixir from the Philosopher's Stone. Or perhaps they think that I have somehow managed to find a spell to prolong life. I heard one Hufflepuff girl exclaim to the others in her house that I was immortal. It made me smile but, in all seriousness, who would want to live forever?

I walk over to the case that holds the sword of Godric Gryffindor. Opening the case, I pull out the weapon. The craftsmanship is truly incredible, jewels glinting on its helm, the ornate detailing and the clean and deadly lines of the blade which run so straight and true. It still amazes me that it came to Harry...it frightens me as well because only sheer desperation could have called that weapon from its place of concealment. Another example of how I went wrong. I should have been there. I should have stayed at Hogwarts. If anything had happened to Harry, I would never have forgiven myself...much as I have never forgiven myself for the deaths of his mother and father.

Reluctantly, I return the sword to its resting place. I hope that it will not be needed again. Perhaps I should go for a walk.

As I get up to leave, I accidentally brush against one of the photographs on the wall, causing it to fall and the glass to break. I magically repair the glass and summon the photograph to my hand. Smiling, I realize that it is the most recent staff photograph, kindly taken by Colin Creevy. I must admit, the young man has talent with a camera. Even I do not look so gray and faded in this particular shot.

I scan along the faces and stop at Minerva's. She will probably be the one to replace me when I decide to step down. That isn't a particularly difficult decision, she is easily the most qualified and quite capable of managing such a huge responsibility. She has had to watch over an entire family of Weasleys not to mention Hermione and Harry and all the others. Watching over Hogwarts should be relatively simple after that. But I digress as she smiles at me. She does not smile often enough, in my opinion. Always afraid to let her emotions cloud her judgement. She is the epitome of fairness and equality. I know the students grumble about her strictness but they also admire her because she treats everyone the same. She is a remarkable witch