Author's Note: I got the idea as I was writing to SylvaDragon. I hope you enjoy. And the characters, settings, and spells all belong to J.K. Rolwing. Reviews are welcomed whether they're mad or not. :)
Chapter 1: Death of a friend
A green-eyed witch knelt before her dearest friend of many years. She knew him ever since she was eleven and sorted into his house. He was head of Gryffindor at that point and her favorite Transfiguration Professor. Albus Dumbledore then became headmaster of Hogwarts himself as he appointed her transfiguration professor, and his deputy headmistress. He became her dearest and oldest friend. She fought beside him through two wars and was still in one as he now left her side. His blue twinkling eyes were left cold and lifeless. Her pale trembling hands moved to shut them close. She would no longer look up to see them twinkle at her, nor would she ever hear another one of his ridiculous ideas. She laughed at herself as she thought of the endless chess matches and their deadly heated quarrels. Oh how she would miss him. She raised her wand as she closed his marble white casket. Tears stung her eyes as they threatened to roll down, and for the first time in a long time, she allowed them as she cried for her friend and for herself. Soon they were cascading down her cheeks, leaving salted trails as they ran. Few strands of her hair that had dared to escape their confinement of her tight bun, had flown across her face from the wind. 'Why' was all she could think of. He left her alone as they were now in eerie deftly silence. Why was the silence so loud as it was ringing in her ears, when really it was just the truth that was boring inside her head? He was gone; he was truly gone. She was alone, or so she thought.
In the shadows of the Forbidden Forest another watched the mourning witch with empathy. She knew how it felt to feel completely alone. Should she reveal herself to this witch? What made her any different to the others she had come across in the past? She was different, but the figure couldn't really know how she had come to this conclusion, she just did. She had watched the witch for days now, knowing that death would come to pass and that it would only lead to this witch's death. Did this witch deserve to die? The figure thought she had seen enough despair and heart break in her life time, and she would give her life to another, to this witch before her.
"Minerva." She said in a ghostly tone. The witch looked up as her train of thought was derailed as she heard her name be called. It came from the Forbidden Forest. Minerva looked to see if anyone was around and then there was a sudden faint glow. It came closer as it approached her. She could make out a silhouette of a middle aged woman. Her long hair was silvery-white. She had glowing white eyes and her pale porcelain skin glowed as well. Was this woman a ghost, a spirit, an angel, or worse an omen? Minerva didn't know what to do. The ghostly figure now stood before her as she looked not horrifying, but motherly. She out stretched her hand to Minerva.
"Minerva," she said kindly, "take my hand." Minerva was apprehensive, but the spirit in front of her had a glowing warm aura around her as her smile was warm and inviting. She reached out her trembling pale cold hand. As soon as it touched the mysterious form before her, she felt herself being lifted. Her stiff muscles eased and she felt herself breathe deeply. Her dark midnight hair was released as it now flowed around her head like a halo. She was levitated in the air as the figure before her now let go of Minerva's hands and placed her two warm hands on her cheeks. They cupped her face as Minerva looked into those glowing white irises. Power surged between them as she felt like she was growing stronger. She was given strength; she was given a new life.