Notes

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LstxboIL6xc

Minerva McGonagall remembered every student who passed through the main doors of Hogwarts. It was a result of being there for so long she presumed; she couldn’t help but memorise every face she saw even if she did not teach them. It was the reason why she started teaching in the first place- to her, true magic was potential. The way that one child could completely surprise you and become something wonderful.

As a result of this, it was not uncommon for her to reminisce. She often found herself thinking of past students as she travelled through the long halls to her next class; children who had gone on to be great; aurors, healers, powerful wizards. Even those who did not; those who had chosen another path that she no longer heard from but had made her smile once or taken her by surprise with an act of kindness or bravery.

There was a particular group through- one that remained engraved in her mind, as she is sure they did many a professor at Hogwarts, due to their complete inability to blend in.

The way in which Minerva remembered the marauders was different.

Unlike the memories she had of other students; hazy and crumbling round the edges as is the nature of a memory- her memories of those four were strikingly unique. They were vivid; polychromatic, ostentatious and wild. And oftentimes she found herself suspended in a trance unable to pull herself away as she saw these images play out before her almost as if they were still happening right before her eyes.

When she came into the great hall her breath would catch at the sound of Sirius Black laughing loudly in response to something James Potter had said to Lily Evans. She would get so close to their usual spot at the head of Gryffindor table; so close she could see the mop of uncontrollable black hair; see his arm slung around Remus Lupins’ shoulder- before the image would collapse in on itself and she would be left standing in solitude; an overwhelming wave of heartache engulfing her senses.

Sometimes when she entered her Transfiguration class on mornings where she had little sleep she was so certain she could hear James Potters’ voice. “Alright Professor?” He would say, sitting forwards in his chair to grin angelically at her. Sirius Black would be next to him as he always was; scrambling to take his black booted feet off the desk and swing on his chair instead. “Morning Minnie.” He’d add. Her sleep deprived self would spin around; a smirk engulfing her features at the nickname; ready to tell Mr. Black off but not really- but once again, to her consternation, the seats would be filled by new, baffled faces.

When she entered the Gryffindor common room on some evenings; to check on the students or make an announcement- she was so certain she could hear the gentle lilt of Remus Lupins’ voice as he explained a concept (usually in defence against the dark arts) to the other marauders or the first years or anyone who was ever stuck. She would turn her head to the study desks, prepared to see his tired but determined face explaining with precision each thing he could. Lupin, it had always seemed to her, too had a flare for teaching. Yet, same as the other times she was left only with all encompassing disappointment to see the desks preoccupied, but not by him.

At night, when she paced the halls searching for students out of bed she sometimes remembered Peter (whom she’d caught a few times on nights like these) arms full from the kitchens exclaiming that he “was only bringing back snacks for Lupin cause he hasn’t eaten since before the full moon”. And ,perhaps it was the softness she always felt for the boys, she always let him go.

She remembered them clearly and often; in the ways they were memorable to many; their pranks for one. Images of filibusters exploding in the great hall. The Knights lining the walls breaking into song as you walked past. The floors being transformed into an ice rink (Disastrous but also incredibly impressive so she couldn’t be too angry). Gryffindor parties that seemed to shake the castle with the loud muggle music that Sirius Black so dearly loved. The time they turned the entire school blue. Or when they bewitched the clocks to run an hour late so they could get a lie in. Pranks on the slytherins especially; those too numerous to count.

Most people remembered them as such. Loud, sometimes obnoxious and wild. When the other Professors spoke of them they did so with a controlled fondness; “those boys were always up to no good..” And Minerva didn’t doubt they were right; they were indeed those things. James Potter and Sirius Black were renowned trouble makers around Hogwarts; And where those two were, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew never followed far behind.

Yet, she found, when she saw them, it was less in their big productions; their pranks and their mischief (though she saw a great deal of that). To her, she saw them most often in the little things.

In the library she saw Remus; head lost in thought as he read book after book on the window seat while Sirius sat with him, spending more time studying Remus than he did any book. In the great hall she heard their loud, excited voices bouncing off the four walls. She saw James calling to Lily across the pitch begging her to go out with him and her obstinate replies that she never would. She recalled later, James and Lily hands intertwined as they walked through the school with their matching head boy and head girl badges.

In the halls she heard the echoes of their laughter and sometimes she swore as she turned the corner she could see them; each one of them as clear as day as if they still remained after all those years. Still young and gushing with life.

James; robes askew as Sirius pulled at his glasses and ruffled his already messy hair; his other arm thrown around the waist of Remus as the latter was too tall for Sirius to reach his shoulders as he had once been able to. Sirius with his leather jacket and black boots; more often in them than his uniform. Remus would grin at James' words as they walked; snickering occasionally - his arms full of books. Peter following along; hanging on to their every word with a large smile on his face.

She would reach their shoulders, turning her head to pick up on their conversation as she passed; making sure they weren’t up to no good. But as if they knew she was listening the conversation would change completely; each of them so in tune with the other that the story flowed perfectly.

“And that’s why...” James Potter had said, gesticulating wildly, “I am so bloody excited for McGonagalls’ next lesson!”

Sirius Black had grinned, catching on immediately: “Mate I was just thinking the same thing! That class will be life changing!”

“Agreed!” Squeaked Peter and Remus nodded: “Cant wait!”

Then catching her eye James changed his face; pretending to be surprised to see her: “Alright Professor?” He’d call before they turned the corner and they were gone; back to planning whatever mischief they had been before seeing her.

And, despite herself, she smiled. Shaking her head as she headed to her classroom; an odd whirlwind of excitement building in her at the prospect of what they would do next.

The same excitement she felt years later, at the mere memory of them and their mischief. Mischief that, she believed, lived on.