The war was long and frightful.

So many lives lost. So many tragedies befalling every household.

All due to one man's terrible greed.

It had ended though.

A tragic and dreadful ending to introduce a peaceful beginning.

Sighing lightly, Minerva lapped her two front paws together.

She had barely made it home last night.

And what had greeted her was the rather horrifying tale of James and Lily Potter's death, Young Harry Potter's victory over the tyrant adult, and his following disappearance.

Taking away the fanfare and exaggerations, the process of events was not any clearer, but the result was still the same.

Voldemort, the Dark Lord, was dead.

Unfortunately for her, she couldn't take a moment to take in all this information. For the passing of Voldemort did not bring the calm and peace presumed, but instead took a malevolent turn. His followers, with the knowledge that their leader was dead, decided that if they were going to go down, they were going to go down in a blaze of chaos and taking many along with them.

After defending the area, she was stationed to guard, she was immediately summoned by Dumbledore to meet him at Privet Drive. A most muggle street.

Confused and to be honest, very tired, she made her way to the address given. In animagus form.

Arriving there at the crack of dawn, she made herself comfortable atop a brick wall of the house she was directed to and waited for Dumbledore.

In only a couple hours there was movement in the house she was watching. Lights were flicked on and the distinct sound of someone puttering about and getting ready for the day could be heard, along with the gurgles of a babe.

Curtains opened wide and allowed one to clearly see into the house. A thin, tall woman flitted upstairs and downstairs while a large oafish looking man was talking rather loudly from the downstairs. Both always took time to coo and coddle a rather large babe that kept throwing tantrums over the littlest thing.

Minerva twitched her nose and rested her head on her front paws.

This family seemed to rather happy and united even though they were absolutely everything wrong with society.

A shrieking woman who did nothing but spy on neighbours and coddle her child.

A bellowing man who wafted about, filled with prejudice and misogyny.

An overweight babe that did nothing but throw tantrums and greedily demand sweets in-between.

But they got along quite well and seemed happy together. So, who was she to judge?

After a couple of hours, the husband left in a flurry and Minerva realised she was being played.

Dumbledore was ever the dramatic and of course he had to have her meet him at a place where she would have to wait for him to come.

Sighing and rolling her eyes, Minerva kept watch over the neighbourhood. Watching as owls littered the sky and random showers of shooting stars startled the ever occasionally observant passerby.

The people of the neighbourhood came and went until night struck and soon everyone was back in their homes and tucked into their beds.

It had been dark for quite some while and everywhere was still. No life, no movement.

Getting up and stretching her body she decided enough was enough. Dumbledore had already wasted enough of her time. She still had a ton of affairs to attend to and most importantly, was to find the rest of those Marauder boys and see where they had taken Harry to.

As she was about to alight from her perch on the wall, she heard the faint popping sound of someone apparating in. On high alert, she lay back down and gave an appearance of total calm.

Nose twitching, she tried to gauge the scent. Wizard. Familiar.

Eyes trained onto the end of the street; she noticed a figure in the distance. As it grew closer, it stepped under a lamplight, illuminating a rather familiar figure.

Minerva heaved a small, rather exasperated sigh.

Albus Dumbledore.

She took in the tall thin elderly man coming her way and watched as he was completely oblivious to his surroundings, scrummaging around for something in his rather long purple cloak.

As if he could feel her watching him, he paused mid-search and looked up with a sharp look, his bright blue eyes assessing around him before landing on her shadow-hidden form.

The cold assessing glare quickly turned into a warm look and a wide smile as he shook his head in amusement and going back to looking in his cape. Finally finding what he was looking for he brought out a silver Put-Outer and clicked it twelve times in succession, each click flaring out the light of each lamp along the street and bringing darkness in its stead. Once the street was clouded in darkness, he placed his Put-Outer back in his cloak and strode towards where McGonagall sat.

"Professor McGonagall," he greeted with a warm tone, smiling at the grey tabby cat perched elegantly atop the brick garden wall of No. 4 Privet Drive.

McGonagall tilted her head before sitting up properly on her hind legs.

She took a light leap off the wall, shifting into her human form in one smooth motion. Standing in front of the elder male, she adjusted the green cape that sat across her shoulders.

"Enjoyed the day of celebrations Professor McGonagall?" Dumbledore asked, adjusting his half-moon spectacles to sit more securely atop his nose.

Minerva furrowed her brow in distaste but didn't reply.

"You can't blame them," Dumbledore gently scolded. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years."

McGonagall narrowed her eyes and turned a cold gaze to Dumbledore. "The disappearance of Voldemort came with the price of the lives of James and Lily Potter. Two students you yourself taught and watched grow up I might add," she reprimanded with a cold and solemn voice.

Dumbledore didn't have a response and simply looked down at his feet before looking back up and stuffing his hands into his robe pockets and fishing out his golden pocket watch.

"Hagrid's late," he remarked offhandedly.

Minerva frowned in confusion, "Hagrid?"

A low rumbling broke through the quiet night and broke off Dumbledore's reply. It slowly became louder and louder. Dumbledore began to look up and down the street, but McGonagall simply rolled her eyes and looked up, recognizing that motor's noise anywhere. A rather large and black motorcycle slowly descended and landed gently onto the street beside them. The man sitting atop the motorcycle was just as huge, striking a daunting figure which was not helped by the long wryly black hair and beard that hid all but his brown eyes and the tip of his turned-up nose.

"Hagrid" Dumbledore sighed in relief, stuffing his golden pocket watch back in his robe pockets.

The giant of a man carefully dismounted himself from the bike and both Dumbledore and McGonagall noticed the bundle of blankets snuggled tightly into the crook of his elbow.

"No problems were there?" Dumbledore asked, stepping closer to the man and placing his hands behind his back.

"No sir. House was practically burnt to the husk, but I got him out in good enough time. Was quiet as a mouse this 'un,"

Minerva's brain faltered slightly before catching up. That babe. The babe fast asleep in Hagrid's large arms. Harry Potter.

Stepping forward, Minerva peered at the little lump of blankets, scanning the barely visible but familiar sleeping face of the little boy bundled inside. Under small curls of black hair was a scar, red and slightly swollen and shaped like a slanted fork of lightning.

She gently took him from Hagrid and thanked him with a soft smile. Adjusting the babe in her arms, she couldn't help but coo softly. Sad that Harry couldn't even have been spared the night of the murders.

"That's rather unfortunate," Dumbledore remarked as he peered over her shoulder to look at the babe. "A scar he'll have for his lifetime."

Wrinkling her brow at that, Minerva couldn't help but feel even more desolate.

"Very well, let me have him Professor McGonagall. We've got to get him with his family," Dumbledore declared, stretching his arms out to take the baby from McGonagall's grasp.

Understanding dawned on her in an instant. The family she had observed all day. They were Lily's estranged family!

"You cannot mean to leave him with these people?"

"Professor McGonagall," Dumbledore reprimanded firmly. "It is the best place for him to be. With family. His aunt and uncle will explain everything to him when he's a bit older. I've made sure of it in the letter."

"Letter? What letter could possibly explain to them that James and Lily were murdered because their son was prophesised to bring about the end of Voldemort; a terrible and villainous wizard?" McGonagall quarrelled in a harsh whisper, anger starting to coarse through her blood in indignation.

"Professor McGonagall, here is the best place for Harry Potter to be. Everyone in our world will be raised on his tales of his feats and can you just imagine how that could turn his head? Fame following him around before he can walk, talk? For something he cannot even remember?"

Anger coursed through her veins; words were not able to come out.

"Professor McGonagall, this is the only option for young Mr Potter," urged Dumbledore.

Her eye twitched in response. "That is where you are wrong, Professor Dumbledore."

"Minerva?" all formal address being thrown out of the window as he gaped at her with a rather confused expression.

Adjusting the weight of the baby to one arm, McGonagall grabbed her wand from inside her cloak and without deigning to give any of the men a response, she disapparated on the spot.