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snapeaddict · 4 months

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A Christmas present for @mmad-lover ❤️

With hints about this piece

December 25th, 1969

Hogwarts was, quite literally, buried under snow – thick, pristine snow that shone gently where rays of candlelight passed through the castle’s windows, then vanished into the dark winter night. Inside, the few remaining students had gone back to their dorms, stomachs full and giggling, still, at Peeves’ latest prank. The poltergeist had made a dashing entrance during dinner with a good three dozen Christmas bubbles hanging from his ghostly fingers, toes, and ears. They had all been stolen from the Great Hall’s tree: it looked terribly bare as a result.

McGonagall had looked everything but pleased. Her nostrils had flared in a characteristic manner, her lips were tight - but just as she was about to say something, Dumbledore had started chuckling. Very quietly, at first, in an attempt to pass it off as a caught - he could see Minerva’s expression from the corner of his eye - then he had given in, the students had followed along, and Minerva’s face had relaxed too, eventually. She could never remain cross when Albus started laughing.

“I reckon the view from your tower must be rather exceptional, Minerva – I need to go to the owlery to see the frozen lake. I saw a few deer walking over the ice two years ago, and have hoped to see them again ever since.”

Albus was standing next to his office’s tallest window, just beside his desk. As for Minerva, a frown was creasing her eyebrows, and she was sitting on a nearby couch. She was unknitting the bottom half of a sock the headmaster meant to gift Filius: the pattern had been slightly mishandled. Albus was, after all, a complete beginner; he had been teaching himself to knit for two weeks only.

“Do come by tomorrow for lunch, Albus. The lake is particularly beautiful at this time of day, and I believe it will be sunny.”

Albus turned away from the window. Her eyes were still fixed on the sock in her hand, and his gaze lingered on her face; she looked up, and he looked away, clearing his throat.

“Where did you learn to knit so well?” he asked, picking up his coffee mug from the side of his desk. He sat down in front of her, nodding in the direction of the blue sock in her hand.

Minerva eyed him for a few seconds, then looked down and smiled.

“My mother. My brothers were not exactly sticklers for cleanliness. ‘Cho salach ris a’ pholl’, she used to say – as dirty as mud.”

“My own brother never wore socks”, Albus lamented.

“I see where your lacunas come from, then. Would you like me to show you where you made a mistake?”

“Do you promise to be patient?”

“I am always patient”, Minerva said drily, though she was grinning slightly.

Albus raised an eyebrow. “Ah! I did not believe you to be disingenuous, my dear professor. Need I remind you of the waltz? The piano? The baking? The -”

“You almost burnt the castle down. And left your wand on the counter!”

“That is but a minor detail in the history of my many accomplishments.”

“What about my foot? My poor foot – the one who will restore it to its original size is not born yet.”

“What about my foot?” Albus retorted, though his outrage was slightly undermined by the lemon drop he was munching on.

“It was not supposed to be there in the first place, Albus. That is precisely the issue.”

The headmaster looked somewhat apologetic.

“But I did progress, did I not?”

Minerva turned the sock over on her lap. She sighed affectionately.

“You did. I am rather proud, I must admit it - but you still cannot venture in public.”

“You make me blush, my dear.”

“Did you hear the second part of the sentence?”

“I am a great believer in selective hearing.”

Minerva graced this reply with another sigh, a bigger and rather ironic one. Then, unexpectedly, silence fell over the room, as if the usual pleasantries and bickering had overstayed their welcome. This had been happening more and more frequently as of late, and none of them could pinpoint the exact reason why.

Snow fell beside the window, disturbed in its route by strong gusts of wind that made it swirl continuously. Albus looked at it, and Minerva looked at him.

She was quiet for a short moment, looking as though she was considering her options. She opened her mouth tentatively, and closed it; then, finally, she moved over to her left.

“Will you sit next to me, Albus?” she asked abruptly. “I will show you how to finish the Christmas tree pattern – you got confused halfway.”

Her tone was queer, an uneven mixture of confidence, teacherly strictness, and out-of-place timidity. Clearly, the result was not what she had expected, and the headmaster seemed to pick on it as well. He looked hesitant for a few seconds.

“Certainly”, he replied at last, putting down his cup of coffee.

He sat right next to her, and she handed him the sock and knitters, pointing to a small part of the knitting pattern.

“Like this, yes, exactly. Knit stitch, purl stitch, but you must not go all the way to the end of the row – yes, like this – be careful to keep the same number of stitches here – yes -”

Albus managed the end of the dark green row, but the following steps proved to be more complicated. Twice, he avoided miscounting rows thanks to Minerva’s expert eye; but his main difficulty was not losing track of which was the visible side of the sock, inevitably leading to inconsistencies.

“Here, Albus, let me help you. I just need -”

Her hand touched Albus’, which had not been removed quickly enough.

And here they were, these formidable wizards, eloquent speakers and charismatic professors, staring awkwardly at a sock, half on Albus' lap and half on hers; they looked perfectly stupid, and rather flushed.

Minerva cleared her throat.

“You may start the next row.”

“Yes… yes… assuredly.”

But silence lingered, yet again.

“Now?” Minerva ventured, nudging towards the sock.

“Yes. Yes.”

And, in no more than three minutes, he finished the knitting with remarkable ease, as if possessed by some kind of yarn-adoring entity. Surprised, Minerva grew closer, nodding approvingly. Clearly, his problem had been with the practicalities of visible and invisible sides, and that mistake was behind him already.

“Why is it that the waltz still puzzles you when you have picked this up so quickly?” she exclaimed, bewildered.

Albus turned the sock over, his eyes twinkling: he admired his work with unconcealed pride, and Minerva could not help but remark he looked genuinely prouder of this sock than of his many intellectual prowesses and historical achievements, for whatever reason.

“You have been particularly patient with me tonight, Minerva”, he said serenely, relieved that his voice did not waver, especially when she blushed. “And I listened with the utmost attention. I am sure I will make a good waltzer if I am to take my next lesson in the same circumstances… so to speak.”

That, of course, was untrue. But after that evening, Minerva found that she could never muster the courage to tell him. Only one Severus Snape, years later, would have the courage to say it out-loud: Albus Dumbledore just had terrible coordination.

#Can't believe there's actually a romantic snippet on here #It's an attempt at least #Merry Christmas my friends I love you to bits #minerva mcgonagall #albus dumbledore #harry potter #Mmad #severus snape

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brunuhvielle · 10 months

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Malbus: my cast

Kate Middleton as Minerva & Tim Omundson as Albus

I can't get you back, but I can't turn away from you... Our love is a fact though I've tried to deny it, like you wanted me to.

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misscrimsondawn · 18 days

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Oh feel our bodies grow,

And our souls they play.

Yeah love I hope you know,

How much my heart depends

#harry potter #hp #albus dumbledore #minerva mcgonagall #albus x minerva #malbus #admm #mmad #malbus edit #my edit

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squibstress · 4 months

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HP Rec Fest - Day 20

Prompt: A fic rated G @hprecfest

I Pray You, Be Merry

Character: Pomona Sprout

Creator: too_dle_oo

Rating: K/G

Word Count: 2,996

Summary: Pomona never understood why everyone at Hogwarts was oblivious to the war going on around them.

Why You Should Check It Out:

A poignant snapshot of the war years and what it must have been like to be a girl trapped between two worlds, and a lovely story of how Pomona learned the quiet value of the world's "nice" people.

Once Burned

Pairing: Albus/Minerva

Creator: Alchemine

Rating: K/G

Word Count: 745

Summary: The Headmaster and his deputy meet just before dawn.

Why You Should Check It Out:

This very short fic (from 2002) is an atmospheric, bittersweet moment between Albus and Minerva after his hand is cursed. It's mini-portrait of a relationship from a late point of attack that hints at the difficulties and disappointments that would almost certainly plague any romance between these two characters.

#hprecfest #hprecfest2023 #hp fic rec #pomona sprout #minerva mcgonagall #albus dumbledore #albus dumbledore x minerva mcgonagall #mmad

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yayitsabi · 6 months

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Just a thought...in the books, Albus mentions that he had heard of Trelawney's grandmother Cassandra...but what if he had actually met her...

What if she made a prophecy of about a war so terrible yet unavoidable at all costs.. about a war which could be only ended by a wizard with a heart so broken that he did not even trust himself... about a war of death and life which would change the world in a million ways.. about a phoenix rising from the ashes of long lost love..

What if the man who prepared himself to send a child of prophecy to war was himself a man of prophecy...

Fate is intangible..

#albus dumbledore #harry potter #grindeldore #gellert grindelwald #minerva mcgonagall #mmad #adgg

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penguinparty88 · 10 months

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Albus: Good morning!

Minerva: Is it? Is it really?

#i think this is happends a lot #especially once harry showed up #minerva mcgonagall #albus dumbledore #professor mcgonagall #mmad #platonic malbus #or romantic if you must

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vulnus-sanare · 2 months

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Fantasizing about an older version of Severus, post-war, ALIVE (he never died he just moved no more, don't fight me), and actually seeing my fantasy being pushed to reality is a true privilege.

@mmad-lover you have infinite patience. Thank you for giving me the 50-year-old Severus I have dreamed about 🥹

I am undeniably weak for this man.

#severus snape fanart #personal #commissioned art #mmad-lover #artists on tumblr #snape art #snart #pro severus snape #severus snape #commissioned artwork #digital art #digital drawing

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hellonoblesky · 1 year

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Another hard question.

Most out of touch and popular head Canon/theory?

(don't fell obligated to answer if you find it too controversial, no issues taken)

HAHA. Like 80% of the popular ones. As a vet of the game (and someone who, at the peak of their fixation, had 90% of the entire lore memorized (that was pre-Sumeru)), a LOT of fan theories/headcanons get popular on the rule of cool alone instead of actual probability

But here's a list of the ones off the top of my head that get on my nerves:

Pierro being related to Kaeya -> Annoys me to a rabid degree, doesn't line up with their timelines, doesn't make sense, overhyped

Dainsleif having raised Kaeya as a child -> Fun concept! Doesn't make sense with my understanding of either of their timelines, Dainsleif would have interacted on-screen with Kaeya earlier if this was the case (considering in 2/3 of the Dainquests we've BEEN IN MONDSTADT FOR PART OF IT)

Diluc/the Ragnvinders are descendants of Vanessa -> the og Ragnvinder could never pull her, sorry but he was kinda a loser, he was obsessed with a different Muraten (who DIED and that's what radicalized him), if he WAS directly descended from AN EXTREMELY PROMINENT HISTORICAL FIGURE LIKE VANESSA IT WOULD BE POINT BLANK MENTIONED, Diluc's bright red hair is a feature his family line has had since the Decaabrian era

Kaeya only pretends to like alcohol as an excuse to see Diluc in the tavern -> 0 reading comprehension here, Kaeya's an alcoholic because he has deep-rooted issues that he struggles to deal with the thoughts of, he's not faking it just to see Diluc, if that was the case Wine wouldn't be his hobby, his interest, one of the first thing he mentions in the serenetea pot, etc.

Kaeya choosing Mondstadt is the objectively "Good" choice and him choosing Khaenri'ah will make him inherently "Evil" -> Stupid

Fuckboy Kaeya -> Most awful mischaracterization of him ever get it AWAY I hate it

Kaeya hiding behind Diluc as a kid and being very jumpy/shy (in the OwOUwU sad boy way, not in the Kaeya Allows Diluc To Take The Lead And Keeps His Distance A Lot Because He Doesn't Want To Make A Mistake way) -> Eugh. Rubs me the wrong way, mischaracterizes him, feels like he's being babied, I hate it

Everyone and their mothers calling Venti's backstory tragic bc he lost his bestie literally 2,600 years ago -> Someone who wasn't trained in battle and didn't have protections in a rebellion against a god?? DIED?? WHO could have seen that one coming. Like sorry you lost your buddy pal Venti but also. IT WAS TWENTY-SIX CENTURIES AGO

Khaenri'ah being a war-bent nation -> Hey guys maybe a nation literally built by people who were persecuted by GODS is going to try and make some defenses against THE GODS. Was it a bad idea for them to make things like Ruin Golems? MAYBE!! Could they also have served more uses than just battle?? YEAH!!!! IT WAS A FUCKIGN UNDERGROUND NATION GUYS MAYBE THE MISSILES AND BULLETS WERE USED FOR??? FUCKING MINES. EXPANDING THE CAVE SYSTEM. I DUNNO GUYS LETS THINK REALLLY HARD FOR A SECOND. "Oh but the fields are tilled by blood" Yeah. Construction work is deadly. Especially who knows how deep underground

Khaenri'ah and the Abyss are the same place -> No

Kaeya's the one who should apologize first -> Literally no

#SORRY. I ACTUALLY HATE THE FANDOM LOL #It's why I don't really tag most of my gensht posts #Bc I just. Get so irrationally mad #turtledove answers #also these are jsut the ones off the top of my head and mainly centered around Kaeya #I get pissed about other character's hcs I just am not thinking of them atm #ALSO HONESTLY. No hate to anyone who likes these!!! I understand that people have different interpretations of the game and characters!!#And not everyone will share my exact interpretation of the characters or even agree with mine!!!!!#HOWEVER!!!!!!!#One time back when the first part of Inazuma was released I made a casual post about Orobaxi and Durin paralels #(ofc this was before we really knew about Enkanomiya at all so everyone assumed that Orobaxi was a Khaenri'ahn dragon)#Someone tried to?? Inform me on why Durin was killed saying that they said so bc they were reading my tags #When. In the tags I mentioned him once or twice and if I remember correctly it was (at least to me) clear in the post that I understood #Durin's circumstance and lore????#Insane pet peeve with the fandom tbh but hey this is the no reading comprehension website I can't rlly get mmad

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dyketubbo · 2 years

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you have the vibes of someone who is openly against truthing but behind closed doors you celebrated ranboo coming out as non-binary as something you figured and knew and now you're truthing him being autistic

HUH??????????????????????

WHAT???? ANON ARE YOU /SRS OR /J

#HUH. HUH. WHAT. WHAT #YOURE INSANE #DFUCKING HELP MME???((???#ikn going to choke this iss so funnyg .#ikm not even like mmad anymoroe this is hilarious. wtf are y9u on about #did you do this?? are you projecting onto me because youre mad i hate dream??#what??#many of my friends can assure you ive never engaged with truthing sorry anon lol #angel answers

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kiilonova · 2 years

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i still havent adjusted to being disabled even after 5 years i still think that someday im gonna be able to go to a trampoline park or do gymnastics again

#cro zone #mmigghght aas wwelll bbe llikke yyraah oonone ddaday iill gget tto rriride a uuniicicorrn #iim ttoo mmad aat tuumbblr tto eediit oout tthiis sstuupiid bbug

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solardistress · 3 months

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just got home and i already got em mad

#girl calm down im just asking for clarification why misy ypi be so mmad !!!!!

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snapeaddict · 1 year

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Snolidays 2022 - week 2, Family

Para mi querida amiga @mmad-lover, loosely inspired by @gawaincomic’s beautiful drawing

Il nous faudra trouver les mots pour t’apprendre à rêver plus haut

‘They look very beautiful, don’t you think, Severus? Exactly like the picture. It certainly is the first time I can say as much.’

Severus looked down on the recipe book, frowning slightly in a very characteristic manner, one that he would conserve well into adulthood – then he looked up at the dishes, looked down again, and finally, carefully, as if he were assessing the outcome of laborious research, he nodded. Sometimes it was only the little things, such as the naive look of wonder he had just cast upon the desserts, that reminded Albus of his age. Contrary to most members of the staff, neither he nor Minerva had found this especially amusing. It was clear that Severus felt compelled to act in such a premature way; a formerly abused child living in a world of adults certainly felt no choice but to adapt his behaviour according to what he saw, in hope that he would gain acceptance. Nothing was unconditional for Severus, and when Minerva had been rushed to the hospital, he had thought that it was time for him to leave. He had thought that Albus, who had spent long days at the hospital, would send him away so that he could focus on her well-being. And Albus had indeed been busy: so busy that for a few days he had only been there at bedtime, and had left the boy alone with his fears. It had been the first time Severus had had night terrors in over a year.

The following day, despite the doctors’ reluctance, Albus had brought him along to the hospital. Severus was a different child – he and Minerva would have to learn to protect him in the most effective way, and in this case, it had meant visiting his mother instead of waiting for her to return. In all fairness, this had not only benefited the boy, since Minerva had significantly lightened up after seeing him: she had recovered so well from her operation that it had been decided she would return to Hogwarts only two weeks afterwards – today. This was a special occasion, and Albus and Severus had spent the greater part of the day down in the kitchens in order to prepare something she would enjoy.

‘Do you think Minerva will like them?’ Severus asked. ‘I don’t like that smell.’

Albus burst out laughing. Of course there was whiskey in Minerva’s favourite dessert; not a child’s ingredient of choice. But he had made sure there would be a special dish just for Severus, which had been set aside in a green bowl.

‘She will, Severus, trust me. Crannachan is her favourite dessert, remember? And since you are the one who did almost everything, I am sure she will love it.’

‘Kran-e-ken’, the boy corrected with excellent Gaelic pronunciation.

Oh, how happy she would be to see him. With a nonchalant hand movement, the headmaster cast a quick levitation spell on the dishes while a light emerald coat made its way towards Severus, floating mid-air.

‘Now let us go to the greenhouse. I am sure Minerva is already there. Would you mind carrying the tray?’

The boy nodded with excitement.

The tray looked huge next to Severus, yet, he carried out the task with great care. Despite his shyness, he had recently started to open up, and Albus had been delighted with the discoveries he had made as a result. First, at 6 years old, the boy showed an early disposition for cooking, and that Albus had learnt in a rather curious way: while the boy had always eaten everything he and Minerva had cooked for him - despite their obvious lack of talent for the culinary art - the elves he had hired to look after the boy when they were away had informed him that Severus not only took great pleasure in cooking, but had shown remarkable talent in identifying ingredients by taste, and made helpful suggestions about which spices to add to the soup. Speaking of smell, the boy was, in fact, ever curious: the first time they had walked down to the greenhouse, he had gathered the courage to ask Minerva what scent was coming from the ground. It had just rained, and the child’s face had lightened up when she had taught him the word petrichor. That was when she had started to teach him her native language; there was no shortage of words relating to the weather and natural world in Gaelic.

At the very moment Albus opened the door to the greenhouse a familiar laughter reached his ears. He could see Minerva’s red tartan blanket from where he stood and felt a sudden breath of childlike joy overcome him, perhaps because Severus, who was standing by his side, was brimming with excitement. His face, usually remarkably pale, was flushed; his small hands, resting on the tray he was holding close to his chest, could not be kept still, and neither could his feet.

‘Would you like to carry the desserts?’, Albus asked, putting down the dishes on the tray. ‘I can cast a spell that makes them very light.’

And there was Minerva. Her black hair was pulled in her usual tight bun, and she was sitting in a wooden chair with the tartan blanket up to her chest. It was a beautiful afternoon in early spring and sunbeams fell elegantly on the ground which, as a result of the dense foliage that covered the greenhouse dome, was speckled with shadows. Filius greeted the headmaster with a smile, moving to his left so that the older man could see Minerva properly. Albus felt the urge to hug her, but, aware that she preferred to leave affectionate gestures to the private sphere, simply pressed his right hand against hers. She smiled at him.

‘I hardly think such a fuss is necessary, my dear. Pomona here makes me feel like an invalid – and Filius, I am perfectly capable of pouring my own cup of tea.’

‘It is my pleasure, Minerva’, the other man responded.

The transfiguration teacher rolled her eyes. ‘Where is Severus, Albus? I thought you said you were bringing him with you?’

Albus frowned, turning back: ‘Why, he is her- Severus?’

But the boy had not followed him. Instead, he was still standing by the door, looking up in the air with what Albus immediately realised were tears running down his face. The old man felt his heart sink. Severus never cried aloud; many times they had thought he was sleeping his back turned in the opposite direction before realising he had been crying silently, while his body and face had kept perfectly still. Every time it had happened the headmaster had felt a sort of bitter, self-directed anger build in his chest: how long would it take for him to get to know the boy? To detect even the smallest signs of distress? He was a great wizard, but being a parent was something else entirely.

He ran towards the boy, kneeling next to him. ‘Severus, what is it?’

The little boy blinked back tears and replied, in a trembling voice: ‘The plant took my desserts’.

For a second Albus stood there, puzzled; then, looking up, he understood. One of Pomona’s plants, a small shrub with gigantic branches with a mind of their own, had taken the tray away from Severus – at this very moment, the dishes were in a precarious position, some four meters above the floor, going from branch to branch towards the shrub.

‘Pomona, can you come for a minute?’, the headmaster asked, gesturing towards her. She approached. ‘It seems that your friend here borrowed something important from Severus.’

The botanic teacher, gently patting the little boy’s shoulder, folded her arms in an authoritarian manner and, in a very teacherly way, looked up at the rebellious branches.

‘RUPERT. You get these down this instant! I am warning you, if any of them wind up broken, you won’t be getting any fertilizer for a week. A WEEK, you hear me?’

Like a child caught red-handed, the plant stood perfectly still the moment Pomona entered the scene – then a kind of high-pitched squeak came from the shrug and, slowly and carefully, the tray made its way back towards Severus, though the branches’ nonchalant gestures clearly indicated that this was being done against their will. Finally, an unhappy branch presented the tray to the child who took it back quickly, scowling at the shrug. The branch, in return, ruffled Severus’ raven hair and made a strange movement that must have been, in retrospect, a plant’s grimace.

And there the rivalry between Rupert and Severus began, something that would, too, last well into his adulthood and make potion ingredients gathering a handful. Often at lunchtime Professor Snape would enter the dining hall looking like he had just swallowed a particularly strong dose of Skele-gro and completely dishevelled – that was why. Often he would get especially frustrated at his students for wasting ingredients – that was also why.

One year, Severus stopped coming, and Rupert’s branches hung miserably in the greenhouse, always beside the door.

‘Oh Severus, I’ve missed you so much!’ Minerva said, smiling at the little boy who was running towards her. And what do you have here? Is that for me? That looks delicious!’

‘Did he make these all by himself, Albus?’ professor Grubbly-Plank asked Albus as Minerva took a bite from her dish, Severus sat on her knees.

‘My dear, he is 6. Of course I helped him’, Albus replied.

‘Well, that is astounding’, Filius said, his mouth full of cream and strawberries.

‘I know. Who would have thought such a little boy could have so much talent?’

‘No, I meant, it is astounding that you helped and these still are excellent’.

‘Those biscuits weren’t that burned!’ Albus protested, vexed. ‘And it was two years ago!’

‘Filius, you’re being too hard on him’, Minerva intervened. ‘Who apart from us can say that they have tasted seasoned ashes? No one, I am sure.’

She paused maliciously while the old man huffed. ‘And Severus, these are the best desserts I have ever had.’

Severus’ face turned pink. He remained silent while all the grown-ups kept on talking; then, when the time came to go back to the castle, Minerva refused to let him go, carrying him in her arms all the way up to the castle. The little boy buried his face in her arms, looking as though he would soon fall asleep. Then he whispered, so that only Minerva and Albus could hear: ‘me and daddy have missed you, mum’.

For a second none of the adults could speak. They froze, looking at one another in disbelief: never before had the boy called them mum and dad.

Then, in the mild evening, they hugged him tighter than they ever had before, and Albus felt incredibly grateful – for his little boy, for Minerva who was alright, for all of them who were together; and, he added mentally as they reached the castle, for Severus’ improper use of grammar, fit for a child.

Yen - Yves Duteil

Yen

My little Vietnamese flower

I’ll love you no matter what, put your heart close to mine

Yen

Dry your tears forget your sorrows

You may remember that those who loved you are too far away

It has come,

The time to live your childhood

In your great house in France, surrounded by serene love

Yen, my little Vietnamese flower

Dry your tears forget your sorrows, put your heart close to mine

Yen

May your life be also mine

As true as your parents love you, Drop all of your burdens here

Hate

Regret, Violence and Severe Punishment

May they never return, to wet your cheeks with a trickle of water

Sow

Your laughter and clear soul

And if sometimes your heart is empty, let all your sobs burst

Love

Draw your strength from mine

And in our hearts that belong to you, find the bottom of your cradle

We’ll have to find the words - to teach you to dream higher...

Yen, my little Vietnamese flower

I’ll be there no matter what, put your heart close to mine

Yen, dry your tears forget your sorrows

You may remember that those who loved you are too far away

It has come, the time to live your childhood

In your great house in France, surrounded by serene love

Yen, my little Vietnamese flower

Dry your tears forget your sorrows, put your heart close to mine

Yen, dry your tears forget your sorrows

For no matter how far away you are coming back from, this country is already yours.

Yen, my little Vietnamese flower

Yen, my little Vietnamese flower.

#Writing fluff for you mmad has been on my to do list for 4 days but it's deadline week I wish I could have got it done before!#I hope you're feeling better #Wee Yves Duteil song today #One of my all times favourites and a very personal one #He deserved better #severus snape #albus dumbledore #minerva macgonagall #snolidays2022 #minerva mcgonagall #snapecelebration #pro snape

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