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Before Harry could agree, a different sound cut through the din. Not a curse, not a scream. A footstep. Deliberate. Slow. And then another.
The battle had moved beyond screams. It had settled into a low, grinding roar punctuated by the crack of spells and the shriek of collapsing stone. Harry, hidden under his Invisibility Cloak, pressed his back against the cold wall of a corridor off the Grand Staircase. Dust motes danced in the eerie, spell-lit gloom. He could hear Ron and Hermione breathing somewhere to his left, hidden beneath a different Cloak—the one his father had once used, now mended.
She looked at Harry one last time. Her eyes were wet, but her jaw was set like flint. “Mr. Potter. It has been an honor to be your teacher. Now go. And for Merlin’s sake, win.” Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows Part 2 -20...
McGonagall nodded once. “The diadem. I can’t take you to it. But I can clear a path.” She turned and pointed her wand at the marble staircase. The stairs began to shift, not just moving, but transfiguring . The banisters twisted into serpents made of solid stone that hissed silently. The steps themselves flattened and became a smooth ramp.
“It’s the only way to end it,” Harry said. Before Harry could agree, a different sound cut
McGonagall was silent for a long moment. Then she did something unexpected. She lowered her wand and smiled—a thin, fierce, terrible smile. “You have your mother’s eyes, but you have James’s nerve. Foolhardy, reckless nerve.” She looked past him at Ron and Hermione. “And you two. You never left him.”
She stopped two feet from him. The pain in her face wasn't from the gash. “You’re going after Voldemort’s soul fragments. In the middle of a siege.” Deliberate
“Professor,” Harry started, “the diadem of Ravenclaw. I need to find it. It’s a Horcrux.”
Before Harry could agree, a different sound cut through the din. Not a curse, not a scream. A footstep. Deliberate. Slow. And then another.
The battle had moved beyond screams. It had settled into a low, grinding roar punctuated by the crack of spells and the shriek of collapsing stone. Harry, hidden under his Invisibility Cloak, pressed his back against the cold wall of a corridor off the Grand Staircase. Dust motes danced in the eerie, spell-lit gloom. He could hear Ron and Hermione breathing somewhere to his left, hidden beneath a different Cloak—the one his father had once used, now mended.
She looked at Harry one last time. Her eyes were wet, but her jaw was set like flint. “Mr. Potter. It has been an honor to be your teacher. Now go. And for Merlin’s sake, win.”
McGonagall nodded once. “The diadem. I can’t take you to it. But I can clear a path.” She turned and pointed her wand at the marble staircase. The stairs began to shift, not just moving, but transfiguring . The banisters twisted into serpents made of solid stone that hissed silently. The steps themselves flattened and became a smooth ramp.
“It’s the only way to end it,” Harry said.
McGonagall was silent for a long moment. Then she did something unexpected. She lowered her wand and smiled—a thin, fierce, terrible smile. “You have your mother’s eyes, but you have James’s nerve. Foolhardy, reckless nerve.” She looked past him at Ron and Hermione. “And you two. You never left him.”
She stopped two feet from him. The pain in her face wasn't from the gash. “You’re going after Voldemort’s soul fragments. In the middle of a siege.”
“Professor,” Harry started, “the diadem of Ravenclaw. I need to find it. It’s a Horcrux.”