in the cards | marlene mckinnon -- on hiatus

11. don't waste your emotion

Early the next morning, Nora once again stepped over the threshold to McGonagall's office. This time around she was far more confident, knowing not only what lay behind the door but also of her innocence.

She had barely gotten any sleep last night, between the incessant overthinking and the chattering and following intangible sobbing of the two girls Andy and she shared a room with, she never stood a chance.

"Good morning, Ms Nielsen, I trust you cleaned up the library nicely with the help of Ms McKinnon?" the professor asked, her usual motherly gaze upon her student.

"Yes, we did. I just came by to get my wand back," Nora replied.

With the handle pointed toward Nora, McGonagall nodded her head toward the wand in her outstretched hand. A cold hand wrapped around it, the familiar weight comforting in her hand. Like the missing piece of a puzzle.

"Thank you. Have a good day, Professor McGonagall," Nora smiled, turning around to leave.

"Wait," the older woman spoke up, halting Nora's movements. "I know what really happened."

"Yes, you do. I already told you that."

"If I recall correctly, you took responsibility for everything. Unfortunately, you failed to realise that there was a third person there, didn't you?" McGonagall knowingly inquired, tilting her head down to look at her student from above her glasses.

"Avery."

"Indeed, Ms Nielsen," the professor nodded. "I know I may be older than you all, but I am not naive nor senseless. And beside that, I am not blind as a thestral, despite popular belief between the students."

"I apologise, professor, but I still haven't got a clue what you're alluding to," Nora denied, knowing it best to stick with the first story.

No one wanted to be caught red handed lying to a professor, let alone McGonagall at that. 

"I spoke with Mr Avery after the incident, and barring a few of his rather vile words, he had a slightly differing memory of the evening. Now, I was a student here myself once upon a time, and a woman at that, I can perfectly well deduce what really transpired. Mr Avery's previous misdemeanors don't either add to his credibility."

Ashamed, Nora looked down, refusing eye contact. 

She had no regrets of what she had done, what she had confessed. She would've done it again in a heartbeat, provided the right circumstances. 

But she cared deeply for her academics. And knowing that she had now tainted her own likeness, not even to a peer but as someone with real power over her future, she couldn't stand it.

"I'm sorry."

"Do you regret it?"

The question was so peculiar that it snapped Nora's head up, mouth forming words without any sound ever leaving. Was it a trick, a deception of some sort? 

"No," the girl admitted, honestly.

McGonagall didn't say a word, Nora assumed she couldn't.

It wasn't exactly as if McGonagall could have praised her for deceiving her elder, and the professor didn't seem the type to verbally lash out at students. Much less in private. 

Minerva McGonagall had always been a fierce woman. A Gryffindor through and through, despite the blasphemous hat's opinions. 

If she hadn't been a teacher responsible for reprimanding the students that did the same things she regularly did herself when she was young, she would be saying vastly different things.