Harry Potter,

A representative of the ministry of magic waited impatiently for the Headmistress to return to her office. He made no official announcement that he was stopping by, just an impromptu decision that he felt was necessary.

So, as he waited, the bored and curious the auror started rummaging through the many desk draws, grinning when he found exactly what he was looking for.

Harry took the tin of biscuits and took a seat in the shabby but surprisingly comfortable chair behind the ridiculously large wooden desk that sat in the middle of the circular room. He leaned back to stretch his legs and prop his feet on the desk, nibbling on a biscuit as he took in his surroundings.

Some things never changed...
"Scones", Minerva declared crisply, before the gargoyle sprang aside to let her pass. She had come to learn that the gargoyle would only respond to passwords that referred to sweet treats; one of Albus's most personalized legacies.

Despite her mind being busy formulating the owls she was about to send, Minerva immediately noticed the man sitting behind her desk. "I do not expect my students to retain every valuable lesson taught to them, but I will admit that realizing you did not learn how to properly sit behind a desk - one that is not yours might I add - is a slight shock. Perhaps a seventh year of education would have benefited you after all." She scolded, though her tone seemed to be seasoned with a hint of affection.

Harry Potter,

“Perhaps,” agreed Harry who didn’t budge from his lazy perch even as the Head Mistress approached the desk he took temporary residence at. Instead, he motioned towards the small metal tin sitting in the open desk drawer.

“Have a biscuit, Minerva,” cheeked Harry.

He was grinning ear to ear, looking very much like his father in the moment. The resemblance was eerily accurate now that he was only one year older than his father before Voldemort took his life.

“Admit it. You’ve missed me.”
From his messy hair, to his cheeky grin, Harry did look like his father, but in this instant it was more his demeanour than his looks that made Minerva pause. The brash confidence of his stance, his daring to call her by her name rather than her title, his assumption that she had missed him, everything about the young man reminded her of James.

Harry's ressemblance to his parents was always apparent. At times it was merely constative; an unconscious acknowledgement that didn't even register as a thought. There were moments though, when the ressemblance struck her like a bludger to the chest. This was one of those moments.

Hand barely brushing against the front of her robes, she attempted to burry the overwhelming feeling away. It clung to her like peeves to a bad idea.

Not quite willing to admit to him or even to herself that there had been certain dullness to her duties since he and his friends had left, she barely noticed the shadow a smile that tugged at the corner of her lips.

"I presume you came to see him," her eyes drifted to Albus's portrait. It was often he who drew them back to her office.

Harry Potter,

Harry followed her gaze to Dumbledore’s portrait, the wizard Harry had come to know and love as a grandfather. He was knitting a sweater for a tiny ginger kitten that had strayed its way into his portrait.

Harry removed his feet from the desk. “Actually, I didn’t come for his advice.” He stood up and moved aside to give McGonagall her chair back. “I came for yours. “
Her formal inclinations soothed by the sight of her desk being cleared of her former student's feet, the Headmistress finally felt comfortable approaching her workspace. Wondering what kind of advice he might be seeking from her she sat on the chair he had vacated.

"There was a time when you seemed to actively behave against my advice." Minerva teased, veiling how touched she was to notice that his inclination had changed.

Harry Potter,

“Yeah...I know.” Harry had the decency to give her a sheepish smile in a half- hearted apology for his rebellious attitude.

“Honestly I never thought I’d make it this far. Classes...lessons...study hall...even quidditch...it all became less of a priority with each passing year. Can’t expect anything less when you have a notoriously evil wizard trying to kill you in the cradle because you get in the way of plans for a genocidal war. “

Harry casually shrugged and moved around the room to curiously poke and prod at the various instruments, both old and new, scattered around the Headmistress’s office.

“And while the rest of the world believed I could defeat Voldemort and end the war, you believed I could do more and become an auror with a semi normal. Turns out that all the tediously boring stuff you pushed on me while in school was pretty important after all.”

The young auror turned to grin at the matron of gryffindor.

“I guess what I’m trying to say...is thank you. For everything.”
Minerva was brought back to a few decades prior. During a crisp autumn evening, the witch had watched as a raven-haired boy with a scarlet lightning-shaped scar had been left on his aunt and uncle's doorstep.

You couldn't find two people who are less like us. She had protested when Albus had explained that the boy was to stay with his aunt, uncle and cousin. Then too she had advocated for normalcy, a normalcy not so different than the one he was referring to today. She had thought that a life in the wizarding world would have been better for him. One where he would grow up hearing about his parent's heroic courage. She had even foolishly considered taking him herself.

Fate had not intended it. She had been his professor, like she had been for his parents before him. She had still played an important role in his formative years. She had introduced him to quidditch, she had made arrangements so that he would be given his first broom, she had let it slip to Molly Weasley that Harry Potter would be spending his first Christmas holidays at Hogwarts and that his last remaining relatives were not likely to send him a present...

He was not wrong, she had provided him with a certain amount of normalcy. A normalcy his parents would be proud of, she hoped.

"You deserve respite, Harry." He had carried the wizarding world's fate on his shoulders and he had suffered more than a lifetime's worth of pain. "I don't know that you have ever experienced normal or that you ever will, but I do know that you should be proud of what you have accomplished. I am glad if you feel that I participated in offering a tad of boredom," she linked her hands on her desk, "I think you have experienced enough excitement, boredom and peace might just be what you need."

Harry Potter,

Harry nodded in agreement, his curiosity satisfied after practically touching every instrument and artifact within arm’s reach in her office.

“I think so too,” he said as he turned towards McGonagall.

There was a moment of hesitation, clearly he wanted to ask her something but was unsure how.

“I see you’ve repaired the castle. It looks nice. Have-okay, yeah…I can’t do small talk,” Harry confessed, “ Do you want to have tea sometime? Once a week to catch up on things and talk about quidditch? I’m trying to have somewhat of a social life now that I don’t’ have to go on a horcrux scavenger hunt every night or fight off death eaters because their boss wants to start a war.”
She had indeed repaired the castle. In fact, the reparations had started the day following the battle. With Poppy Pomfrey hot on her heels, screaming that she was being irresponsible for refusing to follow her orders , Minerva had, with a few movements of her wand and unwavering concentration, reconstructed the Transfiguration Courtyard. It saddened her to realize that it had taken him this long to return and see the reparations for himself.

His sudden change of topic did not take her by surprise, she supposed that many of the usual social motions seemed futile when one had experienced what he had experienced. "If you are willing to take the trip," the Headmistress answered without hesitation. More protective of Hogwarts than ever, Minerva only left the school grounds when absolutely necessary. "How did you react to the Chudley Cannons' recent win?" She asked, curious to hear his reaction to the unexpected victory.

Harry Potter,

“Honestly?” Harry took a seat in the stiff chair in front of the Headmistress's desk. “I’m only mildly surprised. Ron, however, is ecstatic. He mentions it at work at nearly every meeting.”

While he didn’t want to admit to anyone that he originally supported the Chudley Cannons out of pure loyalty to Ron, Harry had come to favor them over the years.

“Trading keepers with the Ballycastle Bats was the best decision they could have made. With a strong defense, the Chudley Cannons might be able to keep up. But I think the Holyhead Harpies are going to be the team to keep an eye on this season.”
Leaning back into her chair, she imagined Weasley boasting about his team at every given excuse. The team's supporters hardly ever had an excuse to celebrate, might as well take advantage of the rare opportunity.

"Their new Chaser is quite talented, isn't she?" Well aware of Potter's ties to the youngest Weasley, Minerva kept her tone casual. They were discussing quidditch, she meant nothing more by it. Though, she did find the pairing rather natural, if not foreordained.