The crowd had long dispersed after the funeral and Dumbledore's speech.
The students had returned to their dormitories, and most of the professors too had quietly retired to their quarters.
The infirmary, which had been overflowing with injured students only a day ago, was now far less crowded. Those with minor wounds, the fortunate ones, had already been allowed to return to their dorms.
Just as night began to settle over Hogwarts, a certain red haired girl fluttered her eyes open.
For a few disoriented moments, Lily Evans wondered if this was the afterlife. But then came the sharp sting and the grimacing pain in her back where the curse had struck her. It was unmistakably real. And then the familiar stone walls of Hogwarts confirmed it. She was alive.
She tried to shift slightly, wincing as pain flared again. That was when a familiar voice reached her.
"Easy there, Miss Evans," came the calm, steady tone. "Your wound has not fully healed yet."
Lily turned her head toward the source of the voice and saw Professor McGonagall walking toward her bedside. The Transfiguration professor's expression, though composed as ever, carried a small but rare smile, one that spoke of quiet relief. And probably of happiness.
"Professor McGonagall," Lily murmured weakly. "Pandora…?"
She did not remember what had happened after she had lost consciousness and was worried for her friend.
"She is completely fine," Minerva assured her gently. "She did not sustain any notable injuries."
"In fact, she was quite worried about you. Even after Madam Pomfrey confirmed you were out of danger, she has been anxiously waiting for you to wake."
"I will have someone fetch her immediately," she said. "I am sure she will be thrilled to see you awake."
"And perhaps," she added softly, "you could use the company."
Lily managed a faint nod of gratitude, her lips curving into the smallest of smiles.
After a few moments of silence, she spoke again. Her voice was quieter, but more focused.
"Professor," she said, her green eyes searching McGonagall's face. "The attack. What happened? What happened after I… after I was hit? Do we know who was behind it?"
Minerva's expression changed. The warmth faded, replaced by the sharp lines of worry and restraint. For a brief second, the professor's lips parted as if to answer but no words came.
"I think it is best if you focus on your recovery for now," Minerva said gently, though her tone left no room for argument. "We will have quite a chat about all this once you are fully healed."
Lily parted her lips to protest, but Minerva raised a hand slightly, cutting her off before she could speak.
"And in the meantime," she added, her sharp eyes softening just a little, "Miss Quiver can fill you in on a few things. I am sure she will be here soon enough."
Though every part of Lily wanted to insist, to demand answers from the professor who clearly knew more, she hesitated. Professor McGonagall's tone, calm yet firm, made it clear that pushing further would be futile. Reluctantly, she nodded.
"Good," Minerva said with a small approving smile. "Rest, Miss Evans. You have more than earned it."
Lily gave a faint nod in return, watching as her head of house turned away. Minerva's robes swayed softly as she walked toward the infirmary doors, her expression unreadable once again.
Now that Lily was awake, Minerva felt a weight lift from her shoulders, but only slightly. There were things to be done, conversations to be had.
And while speaking to Dumbledore would certainly be one of them, another task took priority.
Informing Lord Olario that Lily Evans was awake and that he could finally come to see her was something Minerva intended to do first.
Minerva had never been the scheming type. Never. It was not in her nature.
She was a woman of principles. Direct, disciplined, and unwavering in her morals. Manipulation and intrigue were habits she had always disdained, preferring the clarity of honesty and integrity over cunning and deceit.
But perhaps, this once, she needed to make an exception.
As she walked through the quiet corridors of Hogwarts, her thoughts were unusually restless. Her sharp mind, normally so methodical, was weaving possibilities and contingencies. She did not like it, the very idea of scheming felt foreign, even distasteful but her instincts told her it was necessary.
If she truly wished to secure the safety of one of her brightest, most promising students, and, truth be told, someone she had come to think of almost as a daughter then she would have to act with care. With foresight.
And, yes, perhaps even with a bit of cunning. But perhaps what was cunning in Minerva's eyes, it was a normal thing in the eyes of others.
Her lips pressed into a thin line.
"A bit of scheming," she murmured to herself. "Just a bit."
Because Lily Evans deserved protection and if Minerva McGonagall had to bend her own principles, just this once, to ensure that. Then so be it.
.
.
.
Antonio too had returned to his manor. Bellatrix had not come back with him. She had gone straight to her own home, saying there were certain matters she needed to discuss with her grandfather.
Antonio had a faint inkling that something about her was different. Nothing overt, no major change in her manner or words, but there was something subtle in her tone, her expression. A faint tension, perhaps. Or hesitation. He could not quite place it.
But his mind was not on Bellatrix. It was on Albus Dumbledore.
The speech that Dumbledore had delivered earlier was still echoing in his mind. It had been short but measured and immensely powerful. And Antonio had been replaying it again and again in his head.
Dumbledore's hatred for the Death Eaters had been unmistakable. For all his talk of forgiveness, he had admitted, almost confessed, that this time they had gone too far, that a line had been crossed that could not be forgiven. He had even gone a step further, openly declaring that he would kill them.
That declaration had shaken the entire Wizarding Britain. And Antonio was no exception.
But something about it troubled him.
Would Dumbledore really act on that promise? Would he truly hunt them down?
Or would he simply stand in opposition. Waiting, reacting, never moving first? He had said that he would kill a death eater if sees one but he had not talked about finding and hunting those who had been involved in the attack. If he did not leave Hogwarts, how was he going to see a death eater?
What did Albus Dumbledore truly want?
Antonio's mind wavered between two images. The first was the cunning, scheming old manipulator that many whispered him to be, and the second was the gentle, idealistic fool who clung to notions of love and forgiveness even when the world burned around him.
Which one was real?
Antonio had hoped that today's speech would bring him clarity. That with Dumbledore finally taking a side, against the Death Eaters, against the darkness, he would be able to see the truth.
But he could not. Something still did not fit. Something was missing.
How could a man so powerful, so intelligent, be so naïve?
No. Antonio was not ready to draw conclusions yet. He needed to wait. Watch. Observe.
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