Molly Weasley looks so old and still, lying at the front of the room. I already miss her. She always had a smile and a few good words for me whenever I saw her. As an only child, I'd be lost without my mother, yet the remainder of the Weasley family are drawing together, into a cohesive unit, to get things organised and done.
I remember the first time I came to Hogwarts and properly entered the magical world. Diagon Alley was an eye-opener certainly, but it didn't inundate me with magic and a feeling of ‘different' like Hogwarts did. Hopping out of those boats, and trudging along the dank, mossy passageway until we reached the grass and front stairs, and entering the oak front door, stained with age, to see the light of the Entrance Hall was a journey. In the light stood Professor McGonagall. She looked strict, stern, and like one of my favourite teachers in primary school: the one who everyone seemed to dislike, but who loved to teach and feed eager young minds. I liked her immediately, and even more when I discovered that she taught Transfiguration, the subject I was most interested in.
As my Head of House and the teacher I went to with problems, Professor McGonagall has almost become a surrogate parent to me. At the end of first year, I went to see her, to apologise for lying in the girl's bathroom about the troll. She just looked at me, with an undecipherable look in her eye and said, "You'll do." In second year, she was sitting in the Infirmary, beside my bed, as I woke up. I later found out that she had rushed from the kitchens, where she had been arranging the feast, just so Colin and I could see her when we were awakened. By third year, she had firmly cemented her status as the teacher which was most important to me.
I went to talk to her a lot in third year. I was a confused girl, just barely an adolescent, who was trying to deal with two troublesome friends, a Time-Turner, and the drastic changes of my body. Having to deal with days that could be anywhere up to 32 hours long confused my body, which, when it was already altering because of the hormones that were flooding through it, created one extremely tired, emotional teenager, with fairly major mood swings.
Professor McGonagall was the only person I could talk to about these things. Harry and Hagrid, while wonderful in their own rights, were males. For a large portion of the year, I was in the middle of pitched warfare with Ron over Crookshanks. I was certainly not close enough to Lavender and Parvati that I could discuss such issues with them, and they, of course, weren't allowed to know about the Time-Turner. As for Ginny – well, she was a friend, and becoming quite a good one, but Ginny's still younger, and wasn't going through the same problems as I was. Plus, there was the Time-Turner problem again. So, since the professor knew about all the issues, I often found myself perched on a chair in her office, with a cup of tea in one hand and a biscuit in the other, asking why boys had to be such prats and so blind to what was going on all around them.
I didn't see her so often in fourth or fifth year, but I still found my way to her office at that time of the month when I needed someone to rant to. Well, at least, until Umbridge made that idiotic decree which stopped teachers from talking to students outside of necessary, school-related interaction. Cups of tea and chats in Professor McGonagall's office could hardly be classified as ‘necessary', especially since only a relatively small percentage of Gryffindor students ever took the opportunity or even knew of its availability.
In sixth year, I once again ventured into her office. Cautiously, at first, as she was always so busy, having taken on a higher proportion of the day-to-day running of the school than in previous years. She did this to provide Headmaster Dumbledore with more time to spare for the war and for the more important decisions in running the school. She always set aside the majority of what she was doing and looked up, ready to listen and to debate with me. After she made a casual comment that she considered my visits to be well-deserved breaks, I came less hesitantly, but still not too often, so that I was not a burden.
Ron puts an arm around me. He's been gazing at me, for the entirety of this time, I notice. A row in front of me, Harry and Ginny are curled up together. Neville is sitting between Luna and me, and has edged progressively closer to Luna, since we all sat down. Ron looks like a forlorn puppy, though I doubt he realises that. No one seems to have objected to the other four, so I shift a little and glance at Ron. I lean against him, putting my head on his shoulder. I see Professor McGonagall glance across at the six of us, from her seat halfway across the room, and smile. We all need what little comfort we can seize right now. Darker days are coming.