It was the next day in the late afternoon that the trio was informed of the classes awaiting two of them, via Minerva McGonagall. They were walking down the corridors toward the classroom they had been directed to.
“It’s still weird, don’t you think?” Ron began.
“That you’re the worst students in the class? Not particularly,” Hermione affirmed.
“Ouch, you’re harsh, ‘Mione, but I see what Ron means. Why would we get extra classes?” Harry added.
“And besides, would Snape have asked for us to get help? Honestly, do you believe that?”
“First of all, it’s not Professor Snape who requested it; it’s Professor McGarden. And then... um...” Tried Hermione
“You see for yourself; you can’t even understand why we would be subjected to this…”
“In any case, I’m not going to complain; McGonagall said the classes would replace some of my detentions with the other... um... the other.” Harry had held back from insulting a certain professor, fearing he would once again be caught saying something foolish.
They had approached the classroom and spotted Neville Longbottom in front of the door.
“Hi, Neville,” Ron said.
“Hi... Were you all summoned for extra classes too?”
“They are,” Hermione started. “I’m just accompanying them.”
“Ahah, yes, of course...” he added a bit nervously.
Just as Harry was about to say something, the door opened, revealing a very enthusiastic professor. It was the first time the young ones had seen her up close, and it was Harry who seemed most troubled, his mouth left half open.
“You’re on time; that’s wonderful! Come in! Come in!” she invited.
The trio, along with Neville, entered the room. It was a rather large and bright classroom, with tables scattered here and there in groups of four. On the largest desk, presumably the professor’s, a whole bunch of papers and books were spread out.
“Excuse the mess; I’m still figuring out how to arrange this room in a... um, optimal way... Oh, Miss Granger, do you also wish to attend the class?”
“Well, originally I was just accompanying them, but I must admit I’m curious to attend one of your lessons…”
“The more, the merrier, as they say? Sit wherever you like; I’ll be right with you!”
Alice moved away to her desk and began rummaging through her papers while the young ones took advantage of the moment to whisper among themselves as they settled in. Ron seemed to assert that she had looked sick the last times he had seen her, and Hermione replied that illnesses could be treated. Harry, meanwhile, still seemed somewhere else, and Neville... Neville was just as nervous as ever. Alice eventually rejoined them.
“I gathered that you were having a bit of trouble in Potions class?”
“That’s an understatement… Potions are too hard!” Ron exclaimed.
“Let’s just say it’s intimidating…” Neville added.
“Really? It’s a shame you have such a view of this subject, which is actually quite interesting! And you, um... Potter? What do you think of Potions?”
“It’s troubling…” Harry said, as if just pulled from his own thoughts, his gaze meeting Alice’s before she quickly looked away.
“Troubling... That’s quite a special term to describe Potions, but I suppose we all have our own relationship with this field... But my goal is to help you appreciate it! We’re going to review the last preparations you saw in class and try to identify your mistakes. How does that sound?”
The young wizards didn’t seem as motivated by the idea as she was, all except, of course, Hermione, who looked eager to improve. Alice then began to revisit some potions with them, focusing on the theoretical part for a while, taking the time to ask them which terms they struggled with the most. Ron was surprised that “crumbled” wasn’t just the same as “crushed.” Neville, on the other hand, had managed to relax; perhaps he had realized that Professor McGarden wasn’t as terrifying as Professor Snape. Harry didn’t seem very attentive, but Alice didn’t appear to mind; she almost seemed to want to avoid him.
The lesson was coming to an end when Alice announced to the students that at their next meeting, they would have practical work. She reassured them by saying that she didn’t particularly like theory either, but it was a necessary step to succeed. Neville was the first to leave, and Ron and Hermione were also heading for the exit, but Harry had slowed down and stopped.
"Are you all hiding something too?" Harry abruptly asked.
Alice, who was tidying up the documents on the tables, froze in shock.
"What are you talking about, Harry?" Ron said, pulling on his arm.
"Excuse him; he’s a bit tired, you know, with the homework and the detentions..." Hermione was looking for an excuse to cover what seemed like a paranoia crisis from Harry, at least from her point of view.
"You’re all suddenly being nice, and you’re going to turn against me too? You’re with ‘Him’ as well?"
"Excuse me, Potter, have I done something to upset you?"
"Quirrell, the fake Moody—they were nice to me until they tried to kill me... And then I saw you with the Minister and Malfoy; are you plotting something for Voldemort?"
Alice was speechless; she hadn’t expected such a barrage of accusations, especially from young Potter... Harry... She wasn’t the only one surprised; Hermione and Ron looked taken aback as well.
"I don’t know, ‘Mione, it’s quicker to ask, right? If she’s a Death Eater, we might as well know now."
"Potter? Please leave my classroom..."
"Harry, that’s not a good idea... Don’t get yourself in more trouble," Hermione said, the only voice of reason by his side.
"Why are you acting like I’m crazy? You said it yourself, Hermione, she’s hiding things. Why waste time?"
"Listen, Potter, you’re mistaken, and you’re probably tired; go back to your common room and rest..."
"Why aren’t you answering my questions?"
She wanted to respond; she wanted to tell him everything, but she couldn’t; "Harry, don’t worry... Harry, I’m sorry..." But nothing came out. Alice leaned against the edge of one of the tables, an intense migraine had settled in and was pounding hard in her head.
Harry took a step forward, but Alice suddenly waved her wand and conjured a curtain, wrapping the three young wizards in the large fabric and pushing them outside the room before releasing them. The door slammed shut, leaving the trio in confusion.
"What’s wrong with you, Harry?" Ron shouted.
"If you don’t get double detentions for this... That was really inconsiderate of you."
"I..."
The young boy had nothing to say; he realized he had gone too far. In fact, he had understood this quite quickly, but he was unable to stop himself. A wave of annoyance, paranoia, and… fear had overwhelmed him. All those years of living through a nightmare because he had trusted the wrong person had traumatized him, and it was difficult today to ignore certain signs… And yet there was something else about this professor; deep down, he felt that something was off… He didn’t want to hate her…
Hermione and Ron urged Harry to return to their common room, where they spent the beginning of the evening. But barely had the young man time to recover from his emotions when he received another visit from the Transfiguration professor, who informed him that the headmaster wanted to see him that evening. Although a bit anxious, Harry was glad to have the opportunity to speak with Dumbledore, who seemed to have been avoiding him since the start of the year.
He hurried towards Dumbledore's office, but before he climbed the last stairs, he stopped. What if he had been summoned to be punished for his behavior a few hours earlier? It was obvious, after all; why else would they have called him? Harry hesitated, but it was clear that avoiding confrontation would only make things worse, so he continued on his way.
"Harry… Good evening…" began the old headmaster, seated at his desk.
"Good evening, professors…" He nodded to both the headmaster and Professor McGonagall, who was standing near one of the windows.
Dumbledore gestured for Harry to sit in one of the chairs. Harry had difficulty tearing his gaze away from his Transfiguration professor; her face was tense, she seemed uncomfortable, and her furrowed brows indicated a certain annoyance.
"First of all, I would like to apologize for what happened this afternoon..."
"What happened this afternoon, Harry?" asked the old professor, confused.
Harry stammered for a moment; he was convinced that his behavior towards Professor McGarden was the cause of this meeting, but it seemed that neither Dumbledore nor McGonagall were aware of anything.
"Harry?" Minerva questioned.
"I disrespected Professor McGarden… I’m sorry, I mean, I got carried away; she’s so suspicious, and I just have this feeling inside me that..." He looked up and observed the director’s and his colleague’s puzzled expressions.
"What do you have against Miss McGarden?" asked the latter.
"I asked her if she was a Death Eater... or if she was plotting something... I mean..." he sighed. "We know nothing about her, and with what Hermione said… and the fact that, coincidentally, she’s the one giving me extra lessons... I don’t know; I lost my cool?"
"You see, Minerva, I was right to act quickly..."
"Quite the opposite, Albus; this proves to us that it’s not the right time!" she snapped.
Harry didn’t really understand the reaction of the two professors. Were they angry with him? Was he going to be punished? Had they really listened to what he had said?
"Excuse me? Am I going to be reprimanded?"
"Harry… Harry… Yes, of course, I am deeply disappointed by this behavior, but it’s with Professor McGarden that you will settle this. However, before that, we have to discuss… Professor McGarden, precisely."
"I'm having trouble following you…"
"Well, Harry, I won’t beat around the bush..."
"Albus!" interrupted the Transfiguration professor.
"Minerva, I hear your veto, but I must disregard it... The circumstances prove to me that young Harry needs, more than ever, a solid support system."
"If it were just my opinion you were dismissing, fine, but this is his as well. What about his feelings?"
"It’s also for her that I’m doing this."
"Doing what? For whom?"
"Harry, you met your godfather a year ago… under unusual circumstances, granted, but that’s how you got to know the person who was, in his time, your father’s closest friend..."
Harry nodded.
"Tradition holds that each parent chooses a trusted person to look after their child. A role that Sirius Black accepted at your birth at James's request. Lily, your mother, chose Alice McGarden to fulfill that role."
Harry jumped up abruptly.
"McGarden is my godmother?" he exclaimed.
Dumbledore simply nodded.
"Why? Why am I just finding out about this now? It's not fair; why am I always the last to know what's important to me?"
"Harry, please, I’m going to give you answers, but I need you to stay attentive… and calm."
The young man opened his mouth but closed it instantly, although seriously annoyed; he sat back down.
"This situation involving Miss McGarden, your godmother, is complex, just like that of your godfather..."
"He was sent to prison on false charges and spent over ten years there… I can’t wait to find out where the other one has been..." Harry said.
Minerva shot him a disapproving glance, but Harry seemed too entrenched in his annoyance to feel guilty about anything.
"She was in a coma, Harry," the director replied coldly.
The hardness of Harry's expression crumbled to reveal great guilt and sincere concern.
"Well, the doctors and medi-wizards who took care of her never managed to determine; some said she was closer to a state of near-death than to a 'classic' coma..."
"And others said she was frozen in a particularly stubborn sleep," the witch added, trying to lighten the mood. "Still, by a wonderful miracle, she is with us again."
"Alice… is someone you can trust blindly, Harry..."
"But wait, you implied earlier that she didn’t want me to know, and she didn’t try to tell me herself—why?"
"People don’t wake up from such a tragic accident with the ability to resume their lives as they were before… It’s nothing personal, Harry; your godmother is going through a complex period, and she thought… rightly so, that she needed time before she could introduce herself..."
"But you did it against her will," Harry pointed out.
"I have my reasons..." Dumbledore clearly did not wish to elaborate.
Harry sighed loudly, staring at his shoes.
"And what do I do now?"
"You might start by going to apologize to her, Potter," Minerva suggested.
Harry nodded; obviously, now that he had confirmation that Professor McGarden wasn’t a Death Eater, offering his apologies had become inevitable. He wished his professors a good evening and left.
Lost in thought and anxious about this new meeting, the young man forgot all the other questions that seemed obvious to ask under the circumstances. He would realize this later when, faced with his two friends, he explained the situation to them. They were not shy with questions, and Harry felt foolish for not having at least asked the important question of what could have happened to his godmother to send her into a coma for… had they said more than 10 years?