Letters to The Boy Who Lived

23. Cat- Minerva McGonagall

Dear Harry,

I'm to teach you about cats in this letter. This is my story.

Why, of all animals, would I choose a cat for my Animagus? Not because I'm a stuffy old cat lady, I promise you.  Jacob once told me I was like a cat; his words I treasured in my heart and never forgot. Why? Because he was the only one who cared enough to look past the hard, outer shell and find the Minerva who just wanted to be loved.

As a child, I grew up with cold, distant parents who shipped me off to Hogwarts just as soon as possible, and never wished to see me until the day I left seven years later. Even then, it was a hard, formal goodbye; a quick handshake from each, a few silver Sickles to last me a few days, and I was off into the world all on my own.

I was quite used to doing things on my own, and part of me enjoyed it. The part that screamed for affection was sill there somewhere, try as I might to get rid of it. But then - I met Jacob.

 We just happened to be staying in the Leaky Cauldron at the same time, I trying to find a place to settle down and he simply running errands around London for a few days, taking some time to relax as well. He was naturally friendly and open, and spotted me alone on more than one occasion, finally sitting down at my table while I consumed a solitary dinner.

He was young and boyish, only a few months older than I, as I later found out. His strong Yorkshire accent, bright blue eyes, and sandy blonde hair were endearing from the off, I'll admit. But it took a lot more than an accent to finally break down the walls I had set up.

That first meeting I acted cordial enough, simply being polite as I had always been taught. I am sorry to say that I wasn't sorrowful as he left, but he - for some strange reason - took my chilliness like a champ and cheerfully promised we'd chat later.

He kept that promise; like an annoying little cold that wouldn't go away, he popped up quite a lot over the next few weeks. It wasn't like he was desperate, but he said to me once, months later, why he'd done it:

"You just seemed lonely. I don't know... I saw a girl underneath struggling to be loved and accepted, and I wanted to get her out."

Get her out he did. Day after day, he chipped little by little at the walls guarding my heart. I remember the day I first talked about my family, the first time I let him pay a dinner bill. Slowly, the inner girl, the one who craved love, began to emerge. 

For months, Jacob prolonged his stay in London, and we got to know each other better. He became the best friend I ever had... I told him everything, he told me everything. I was loved, just like I'd wanted. There was joy in his eyes when he saw me, there was a warmth in his voice when he spoke to me. Finally, it clicked. This was what it meant to be cared for.

Exactly three months after we first met, Jacob surprised me with a tiny heart necklace. It was simple but elegant, and he explained why he'd chosen it.

"You, Minerva, have kept your heart locked in a vault for all of your life. Year after year, you built walls protecting it from everyone. But when I took the time to chip at those walls, your heart broke free - and now it's  out in the open for all to feel its love. You're like a cat," he smiled, now teasing me gently. "When someone first sees you, they see a cold, hardhearted being; but when they get to know you, there's a sweet, loving personality inside."

Apparently, however, my heart should have stayed in a vault; several weeks after he'd given me the heart necklace, Jacob took off, finally going back to the girlfriend he'd left in York and conveniently never mentioned. I'd let my guard down just to be trampled over, and promised never again to open  up the gate to my heart.

Try as I might, however, I couldn't help but treasure the months I spent with Jacob and the kind words he had said to me. I was like a cat; I only opened up to those who tried hard enough to win my love. I kept my guard up because if I wore my heart on my sleeve, it was sure to get broken.

Harry, take the time to love the unloveable. Break down those walls, but when entrusted with the heart of another, treat it like a precious treasure.

~Minerva McGonagall

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I really like this one :D. Some of you might say it's not likely, given McGonagall's strict character, but there has to be a reason for it, I guess. I always pictured her going through heartache earlier in life.

Tell me what you think! Thanks(:

~Tori