"i know life well enough to know you can't count on things staying around or standing still, no matter how much you want them to. you can't stop people from dying. you can't stop them from going away. you can't stop yourself from going away either."...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Professor McGonagall's office resided in the first floor corridor, just right of the Serpentine Corridor, where Remus had taught Defence Against the Dark Arts last year; Classroom 3C.
The study remained the same as the last time Ophelia visited- a large fire that was flickering brightly, the two vast arch windows overlooking the training grounds and Quidditch Pitch, which were now filling with students and broomsticks, and the great wooden desk in the centre, where two chairs were already sitting, and a cup of tea had already been made.
Ophelia took the seat opposite the Head of Gryffindor, who pushed the tea towards her, nodding encouragingly as the girl took a sip.
"How long has this been going on?" Professor McGonagall's mouth was tight, but concern flickered behind her eyes as she lay her wand on the desk.
Ophelia chewed her lip as she thought, eyes fixed on the teacup before her.
"Last year, when I cast my first Patronus," Ophelia nodded slowly as she spoke, sifting through her memories as she spoke, "that was the first time I felt it."
Minerva raised an eyebrow, asking what it was.
"It's almost like I'm-" she stopped again, searching the room before her eyes found the tea-pot in the corner, "it's like boiling water. Water bubbles under my skin, rolling and fizzing, and I can't control it."
McGonagall sat back in her chair a little, letting out a deep sigh.
"And before today, has your magic- perhaps- lashed out?"
Ophelia immediately thought of the first night back at Hogwarts- how shards of glass from the lamp littered the rug, how Luna carefully bandaged her hand. She subconsciously brushed her fingers over her palm, feeling the bump of the scab.
She nodded.
Professor McGonagall paused, studying Ophelia's face, her eyes slightly frantic as she took a deep breath.
"I assume you've heard many things about the Stone witches, what it means for you?" Ophelia nodded once again, taking a sip of her tea, sensing she'd need it, "Your mother's sister- your namesake- she was the same age as you when she joined us here at Hogwarts. She, too, had flares like yours. Juliet did too, although she had learned to control most of it.
"You see, there's a reason why there had never been a Stone witch at Hogwarts before. You are very talented, Miss Weasley, but also very powerful. If not trained in the proper manor, such power could be extremely dangerous."
Ophelia swallowed, hard. The last thing she'd ever want to do was hurt someone else. What if she'd hurt someone today? What if-
"Nobody was hurt today," it was as though the professor could read her mind, "I happened to be passing through the corridor when I heard the crying. The desks only shook a little, and no one suspected that it came from you."
