Wherever I wander
Professor,
Can I come by sometime this weekend? It’s important. I can’t say when I’ll find the time, I hope that isn’t too inconvenient.
Harry
The letter was scrawled in a hurry, Harry’s chicken scratch handwriting even worse than usual. The paper was littered with ink blotches and scratches across the paper.
Minerva had responded almost immediately.
Harry,
You are most welcome to visit Hogwarts this weekend. If I am not in my office, you might have to ask around. I hope everything is fine and I worry needlessly.
Best,
Minerva
She didn’t get an answer. It was worrying her that he didn’t take care with his quill as he was wont to do normally when he wrote to her. The form of address was another cause to worry. He only called her Professor when he was distracted or lost in the past. Or if he wanted to tease her. The latter definitely didn’t seem to apply here.
It was Thursday when she got his letter and she hoped to see Harry on Saturday. It was already Christmas holidays, so she didn’t have much to do to distract her from worrying all day. The letter had included less than any information at all. It could not be too pressing as he would have come to her directly. He also wasn’t hurt, or she would have heard about it by now. And there was no blood on the parchment. Lorena also didn’t contact her, so there was reason to believe that Harry wasn’t hurt.
That had happened once. Harry did not write a note like that again after Minerva had nearly hexed everyone at St. Mungo’s after they would not let her see him. Before that incident, Harry had written her a note, barely readable and nearly soaked in blood, explaining that he couldn’t make it to their meeting for tea the next day.
Later she had found out that he had written that note to her before he allowed the mediwixen to transport him to St. Mungo’s. Minerva had berated him for that. Harry had grinned and told her that she would have worried if he just hadn’t been there for tea. Which was true, but she worried even more when she got a letter splattered with his blood. He had smiled ruefully and told her he couldn’t think of a better alternative. Apart from that, he had added cheekily, it would be rude to just not appear to tea with her when they had an appointment.
Now she was his emergency contact, along with Ronald and Hermione, which meant that she would get a note every time he was is St. Mungo’s or any other magical or non-magical hospital. It had the added benefit that she was able to visit him without having to hex the staff. Not that she wouldn’t do it again, if the need arose, but the St. Mungo’s staff was quite thankful. If one knew where to look, the scorch marks were still visible in the foyer. Minerva didn’t regret it.
This was somehow worse. She didn’t know what happened and she couldn’t do anything but wait. She wasn’t made for sitting at the side-lines and waiting for news. It made her anxious and irritable, which her staff could attest to during the last two days.
Saturday morning came and Minerva was impatient for Harry to arrive. Not that she knew if he would arrive today. But she hoped so. And her colleagues did too, if it meant that Minerva wouldn’t be quite as short with them. Not that they knew what they were hoping for. But nobody wanted to fall prey to Minerva’s temper.
She held out until eleven before she abandoned her paperwork and a quarter past when she left her office altogether. Deciding that she needed to let off some of the manic energy she had, she turned into her Animagus form and strolled outside. As soon as she was out, she tore to the far side of Hogwarts, where students seldomly went and ran around until she was properly exhausted. Lying in the shade of a big tree, she caught her breath.
It wasn’t like she thought the students would recognize her in her Animagus form, but it was better to be careful. She wanted to keep her job, after all, and not be labelled crazy and unstable.
After a time spent napping lightly in the shade, she turned back into herself and went back inside to have a late lunch in the great hall. Later for her, that is, most students took a late lunch on the weekends.
“Good day, Horace. How are you?” Minerva asked as she sat down in her chair in the middle of the professors’ table. Horace was a colleague and a good friend. There was no need to be irritated with him. She hoped he would know that this was the closest she would come to an apology for her outburst in the morning.
“Just fine, Minerva dear.” Horace answered cheerfully. “Feeling better?”, he asked, and Minerva felt her apology accepted. Sometimes she wondered if he wasn’t far too cheerful for being the head of the house of the cunning. Other times, it was exceedingly clear how he could be. Well, nobody could be just one thing at a time. They all had facets and lives and hopes and dreams.
“Yes, a bit. Thank you.” Minerva answered.
As she had just turned to Poppy to ask about some students who had been in the hospital wing yesterday, a commotion from the students stopped her. Looking into the hall, she couldn’t see what had caused the commotion. Seeing as so few students stayed over the holidays this year, there was only one table occupied, although most students stayed mostly with their own house still. The other tables kept their places in the great hall though, which limited her view of what was happening.
The students were chattering, although the tone differed from amused to exited to frightened. She stood, causing some other teachers to do the same, and pulled her wand.
As she did so, she saw the thing which she thought might have caught the commotion.
A rather large black cat was running in between the tables of the great hall, directly in between the middle tables and towards the head table. As Minerva relaxed, the cat increased its pace and jumped towards the staff table standing on the dais. Minerva saw her colleagues tense and pull their wands and aim them at the cat.
Time seemed to slow down.
She understood the instinct to hex anything that launched towards them, even if it was just a cat but tensed nevertheless as she cast a shield charm around herself and the cat, before she relaxed again. Any hexes her colleagues threw at the cat were absorbed by her shield easily. As her colleagues realized she had cast the shield charm, they stopped, even if they were still confused.
The cat landed briefly on the table, before jumping again and landing softly on Minerva’s shoulder, turning swiftly on the spot to face the hall again.
It chirped into her ear and suddenly the hall was filled with noise again. Minerva felt her nerves of the last couple of days settle. It would be fine. Nothing too tragic could have happened with that kind of dramatic entrance.
“Minerva?” Filius asked from next to her. He was still standing on his chair and hadn’t put his wand away yet.
“Thank you, it’s quite alright.” Minerva assured them. Turning to the stunned and loud students again, she projected her voice and explained. “Don’t worry yourselves, he is quite friendly.” Minerva said. “Most of the time, anyway.” She added with a wry smirk.
“Since when do you have a cat?” A loud student from Gryffindor asked. Catriona Redwood, if Minerva remembered correctly. A fifth year. She wouldn’t have been at Hogwarts during the last year of the war, then.
“Why would she even need one.” Another added. “She is a cat. To have one as a pet seems excessive.” The declaration was met with giggles from not only the students, but to her dismay the staff as well. They were right, too. It would be odd for her to have a cat. That was probably why she had never even considered it.
“Now look at what you’ve done.” Minerva whispered to the cat still perched on her shoulder. The cat meowed. Minerva sighed.
“He is not my cat, but a friend – belongs to a friend, I mean.” Minerva addressed the hall. It wouldn’t do to call the cat a friend of hers. Her reputation wouldn’t survive. Not in a school full of adolescent students. “He visits occasionally. Anyhow, I have an appointment and you should continue to eat your lunch.”
The students settled down a bit. Just as Minerva started to turn to leave the table, another student spoke up. It was just a first year, tiny, and apparently a bit nervous to speak.
“Headmistress McGonagall, ma’am.” The tiny girl called. It was remarkable that she had spoken at all, as now, with all eyes of the hall on her, she seemed quite uncomfortable.
“Yes, Miss Price?” Minerva asked. The girls’ eyes widened, as if surprised that she would know her name. “What can I help you with?” Minerva always tried to learn every student’s name, regardless of them being in her class or not. Now that she was headmistress, she only taught NEWT level classes, so the first years wouldn’t know her as a Professor, only as Headmistress.
Normally the Headmaster or Mistress of the school didn’t teach any regular courses, but she just couldn’t give up teaching completely. It had been her life for so long. And apart from that, she loved it too much to stop completely. And Filius was a competent deputy. It worked well.
“Could you – Would you put on your hat? Please, Headmistress?” The girl asked. She wrung her hands, as if she was already regretting asking.
“Would I put on my hat?” Minerva repeated. That was quite an odd request.
“If it isn’t too inconvenient. Yes please, Headmistress.” Miss Price confirmed, her voice shaky but still loud enough to be heard. Minerva wasn’t sure where she was going with this or what that was supposed to accomplish but didn’t see any harm in it. She had put her hat away to eat earlier, so it rested on the back of her chair. She put it on.
“Ohhh.” The girl stared at her with wide eyes. “Thank you, Headmistress.”
Minerva wasn’t quite sure what she was being thanked for.
While the students had been silent during their conversation, to listen in interest, chatter broke out now.
“What the hell was that about? That was weird, Annie.” One of the other first years asked their year mate. And while Minerva would like to know that as well, she would have phrased her question a bit differently.
“She looks like a witch.” Miss Price – Annie – answered her classmate.
“She is a witch, of course she looks like one. Are you daft?” An upper year student asked.
“I would ask you to temper your tone, Mr. Richards, especially if you don’t want to end up in detention.” Minerva interrupted sternly. At the contrite ‘Sorry, Headmistress’ Mr. Richards let out quietly, she nodded and let it go.
“Oh, no. I get it.” A Gryffindor sixth year called out. She turned towards Minerva. “Do you have a couple of minutes, Headmistress?” At Minerva’s terse nod, she continued. Minerva was far too curious to leave now, no matter how anxious she had been the whole morning. “Thank you. And, please don’t take offence to this, I don’t know where you grew up, so… yeah.” Well, this was an interesting start. It had been a while since she grew up at all, no matter where, that she wasn’t sure if it would make a difference. The student – Miss Andrews – continued.
“Anyway. Everyone who grew up in the Muggle world, please look at me. Everyone else, I’m sorry, you probably won’t get this.” As she had turned on the spot, presumably to look at everyone she knew to be muggleborn, and raising one shoulder in apology for those who weren’t, she explained further.
“Forget that you have ever been to Hogwarts. Forget what you have learned here and forget what you have learned about wizards and witches and magic. And try to remember what you thought of witches before.” She waited a beat, in which the muggleborns seemed to try to do just that. Minerva tried to do it too but felt unsuccessful. Maybe her life had been influenced and defined by magic more than she thought. Or maybe she had just spent too much of her life at Hogwarts, where magic lived in every corner.
“And now look at Professor McGonagall.” Miss Andrews ended her little speech and did as she told the other to do. As soon as the muggleborns followed her instructions, a noise of oohs and aaahs and oh lords followed. Minerva’s eyebrows rose. What exactly was she to do with this reaction?
“Miss Andrews, I’m afraid I must ask you to clarify.” Minerva requested.
“Well, Professor, you see. You look very much like a proper witch.” Miss Andrews elaborated, which helped clear up absolutely nothing. Minerva raised an eyebrow. As Miss Andrews was one of the students in her advanced transfigurations class, she was well used to Minerva’s silent form of requesting more information and elaborated further. “Like a witch out of a muggle faire tale, I mean. With the robes, and the hat, and the cat on your shoulder.”
Said cat on her shoulder was watching the hall with big, attentive green eyes. It hadn’t moved at all since it had perched itself on her shoulder.
“So you mean to tell us, that the Headmistress looks like a witch from Muggle fairy tales. Is that a common portrayal of witches, then? Since you all seem to know it.” Professor Flitwick asked.
“Well, yeah, mostly.” Miss Andrews answered. “I mean, there are differences, of course. But in general, if you ask a child to describe a witch, that would pretty much be the description you’d be getting. The headmistress always looked pretty witchy to me, but the cat really sells it. Maybe a broom would have the same effect. Not that we weren’t all aware that she’s a proper witch before that. But childhood images like that are hard to forget sometimes.”
“Has no Muggleborn ever told you that before, Minerva?” Professor Wraintyn asked. “You have been doing the first visits to muggleborns for quite some time, before you became Headmistress, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did. But I didn’t wander through Muggle neighbourhoods dressed like this, Professor. Unlike most of wixen, I actually am capable of fitting in with muggles and know how to behave.” Minerva answered, perhaps a bit sharper than necessary.
“Are you doing it on purpose, then, Professor?” A raucous student asked.
“Am I doing what on purpose, Mr. Brooks?” Minerva inquired back.
“Well, the witchiness, I mean. If you are so familiar with the muggle world, you must know what they think of witches.” Mr. Brooks said. The cat on her shoulder sneezed. Minerva shot a baleful look at it; at least as much as it was possible, seeing as the cat sat on her shoulder and she wasn’t an owl.
“I am not doing it on purpose. And while I am familiar with the muggle world, I am not familiar with their fairy tales at all. Although the differences to wixen fairy tales must be fascinating.” Minerva said, not quite being able to forgo her academic interest in such things.
“Well, I guess you’d only be familiar with muggle fairy tales if you grew up with them.” Miss Andrews mused, mostly to herself. It was only clearly audible because there were so few students at Hogwarts during Christmas this year. Barely forty. All of whom were listening intently right now. Minerva debated whether she should tell them, but in the end it didn’t really mater. Not anymore, at least.
“I did grow up in the muggle world, actually.” Minerva said, shocking her colleagues with this bout of openness and the students even more. They were all hanging on her every word. She scoffed a dry laugh. “Ironically, as the daughter of a reverent, so we didn’t hear very many stories about witches, or magic in general, I’m afraid.”
“What’s a rev’rent?”, asked a small second year student into the silence.
“A reverent is like a pastor, Miss Tirch. A man of the church.” Minerva answered. “And that’s enough of this now. If I remember correctly, I told all of you I had an appointment some time ago.”
While most students looked as if they had more questions still, they also respected her too much to demand answers of her. So she went out of the great hall, the cat still balancing on her shoulders.
As soon as she left the great hall and the doors had closed behind her, she shrugged her left shoulder, trying to get the cat to move.
“Go on, you can walk on your own. I’m not a coach.” Minerva tried again and succeeded, the cat gracefully jumping to the floor and walking a few paces in front of her.
When she opens the doors to her chambers, the cat slipped inside ahead of her. She sighed and followed.
When she came in, she found Harry lying halfway on the armchair and halfway on the floor, laughing so hard it looked like he had difficulties to breathe.
“You..”, he tried to take a breath and was only partially successful, “you really do look like a witch, you know. I’ve always said so. And now I’m not the only one.”
“Yes, yes, very funny.” Minerva answered, halfway to properly annoyed. “Now, I believe you actually had something serious to discuss with me.”
That sobered Harry up quickly. As he tried to pull himself together, Minerva started to worry again.
“Hermione is pregnant.” Harry stated. Minerva waited for more of an explanation, but none came.
“That’s not all, is it?” Minerva asked. Harry shook his head but seemed to have lost the ability to explain more. “Is Hermione alright? Is the bairn going to be alright?”
“The baby is going to be fine, as far as the doctor could tell now.” Harry assured Minerva. Then he swallowed and continued. “Ron left, though. Said he couldn’t do it and that they were way too young and that it would only bring problems and complications.”
“What do you mean he left?” Minerva inquired. “When was this? Did he come to his senses?”
“Well, Hermione found out that she was pregnant two weeks ago and she told Ron a couple days after. I knew from the beginning because I went with her to the doctor. A muggle doctor, which is why she didn’t want to take Ron.” Harry sighed. “But that of course has Ron convinced now that Hermione and I are having an affair.” Minerva snorted at that. “Yeah, that was about my reaction, which didn’t really make it any better. You know how Ron is. Not all of that is his fault, but now..”
“But now you have more to worry about than yourself and Hermione, apparently.” Minerva finished for him. Harry nodded.
“Ron was supposed to do the worrying. It was supposed to be me who got him back down to earth after he flipped out about becoming a dad. And now it’s my fault that he’s not coming back.”
“It’s hardly you fault, Harry.” Minerva argued. “You didn’t have an affair with Hermione. Yes, I know, no need to make that kind of face.” As Harry worked to get his face back under control, Minerva sipped her tea. “Do you think he’ll come back?”
“I… I don’t think so.” Harry said, voice small. “Not this time.”
“Alright.” Minerva said, and stood up. She went into the kitchen and came back with a bottle of scotch. It seemed like a scotch kind of conversation. She filled both hers and Harry’s cup with a generous amount of scotch. She emptied half of her cup in one go. During this, Harry just watched her with worried eyes. “Go on, then.” She gave him permission to start with the real problems this situation brought with it. Harry gave her a watery, but still grateful, smile. He didn’t pull his punches and started with the biggest one right away.
“Hermione is a ward of the House of Potter.” Harry revealed, wating for a reaction. When Minerva only raised her eyebrow, he hesitantly asked, “Do you know what that means?”
“Yes, I do.” Minerva replied. “Go on.”
“Are you sure?” Harry tried again. He seemed unsure what to do with her non-reaction. “Knowledge like that can be a burden and I can’t take it back after.”
When Minerva raised another eyebrow and waved for him to go on, he continued, although he chickened out of explaining the magical side of things. Maybe Minerva would connect the dots by herself.
“Legally, we’re siblings, in the Muggle world, we made sure of that. Of course, here it doesn’t count for much because we’re not magically related. And there is not much we can do for that. Ron and I are as good as brothers, when I marry Ginny even more so, and Hermione and Ron should have gotten married, so they’d be safe as well. Hermione and I wanted that kind of connection, that safety too, and this was the best we could do. I don’t think Ron knows, though. About the magical side I mean. He knows about the muggle side, at least we told him, and he helped with the paperwork. But maybe he forgot or thought it was unimportant because it was muggle. So, who knows.” Harry carded his head through his hair, making it look even wilder than it normally did.
“So now Hermione is pregnant, Ron ran away and probably won’t come back, everybody will assume that it’s my child because Ron is out of the picture and Ginny is only talking to me still because she was there when Hermione fell apart the first time.” He took a breath. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I still have my apprenticeship till March next year, but I can hardly leave Hermione to deal with all that by herself.”
“Well.” Minerva said. She took a sip of her tea. Scotch, really. But it was in a cup, and it was still a little warm, so technically it was still tea. “Well.” She repeated, trying to collect herself. “That’s a mess. But you seem to be mostly calm, and you already thought about a lot of things.”
“Oh no, on the inside I am absolutely still panicking. But yeah, so I’m mostly done with all out panicking.” Harry said. “I have to be, because now Hermione went from furious to absolutely terrified, so I have to be the one who has a plan this time.” Harry sighed and carded a hand through his hair, making it stand in every which direction again.
“I don’t know what I’m doing, Minerva. I really don’t. Sure, I have Teddy, but Andromeda does all the hard parts. I’m just the fun uncle. I was supposed to be the fun uncle for this kid as well. Instead I’ll be the responsible uncle. I’m shit at being the responsible one, Minerva, you know that. That’s what we had Hermione for all those years. But now she’s flipping out and Ron’s gone and Ginny’s always working and suddenly I’m the best option.”
“So what do you need my help with, exactly?” Minerva asked.
Harry looked at her as if she had lost her mind. “Everything! I don’t know what to do, Minerva.”
Minerva pursed her lips. “Alright. First things first.” She finished her cup of scotch - tea -, filled it again and topped up Harry’s too. “Just one more cup though, to calm your nerves. We have things to do.”
“Thank you, Minerva. You’re the best.” Harry said as he downed half the cup in one go just like she had in the beginning.
Minerva sat back down. “Good. What is your first concern? Basic things you worry about, nothing complicated. Let’s start with the easiest and we’ll work our way towards the bigger things.”
“I don’t know how to raise a kid. But I wanna be there for ‘Mione.” Harry confessed.
“You’ll have help, won’t you?” Minerva tried to assure him. “Even if Ronald doesn’t come around, Ginerva will help as will the rest of the Weasleys.”
“I don’t think Hermione will particularly want the help of the Weasleys if Ron doesn’t get his head on straight.” Harry answered. “Especially Mrs Weasley. She can be pretty – intense.”
“Aye, that’s true.” Minerva scoffed. “But I don’t think I can help you any better. I don’t have children, Harry, you know that. I’m not any better equipped for this than you are.”
“Are you mad? You’ve raised hundreds of children.” Harry had raised his voice, as if that would make her understand him faster. “Everybody in Gryffindor knows they can come to you, always. You’re the best person I could ask!”
Minerva couldn’t quite prevent the mistiness of her eyes. “Thank you, Harry.” She emptied her cup of scotch before she continued. “But that’s all children over the age of ten. That’s not exactly helpful for raising a wee bairn.”
“Well, but you helped raise your nephews, didn’t you?”, Harry argued.
“Hardly.” Minerva answered. “But I’ll help as best as I can, of course I will, Harry.”
“Yeah, I know.” Harry replied. “Thanks, Minerva.”
She nodded. “Good. Then well start with the most pressing matters. You have time now, don’t you?”
“Yes”, Harry answered. “Well, not really. I mean, I have time now, but what about when I have Teddy? We do stuff together with Hermione all the time, but add another kid to the mix and then what? Hermione has her job, that takes a lot of effort too, and I still have a year and a half left of my apprenticeship with Mistress De Naro. I love doing that that! There is no way she would go for reduced hours in an apprenticeship. I’d have to be home at least every weekend and on birthdays and such to help, if not more, when Hermione needs help. And I’m not leaving her alone with that.” Harry threw his hands in the air and slumped in the chair.
“Well, there’s no law that says you cannea ask, is there?” Minerva said. “Who knows, maybe Lorena is obliging and will meet your requests. Taking on an apprentice is hard work too, maybe she’ll be glad to see less of you.” Minerva teased lightly. “You’ll never know if you don’t ask.”
“Thank you, Minerva.” Harry said, his gratefulness not only showing in his voice but in his whole posture, as he relaxed and slouched in his armchair, finally losing some of the tension he had carried the whole afternoon.
“Anytime, Harry, you know that.” Minerva answered.
“Yeah, I know.” Harry smiled, “You’re great like that.”
“Hermione is not technically a ward of House Potter.” Harry said after a while. Minerva made an inquisitive noise. “I mean, I didn’t lie, she is, but like, just about as much as I am a ward of House Potter.”
Harry waited for a reaction from Minerva.
“About as much?”
“Well. She’s a daughter of House Potter.” Harry admitted. “And as such my sister.”
“Harry James Potter. Tell me you didn’t perform an illegal blood ritual just so you could make your best friend into your sister.” Minerva’s voice sounded strained.
“I did not perform an illegal blood ritual just so I could make Hermione into my sister.” Harry repeated dutifully. After a pause he continued. “I did perform a semi-illegal blood ritual to protect my sister at a time where the government was sadly remiss in thinking about far reaching consequences their new regulations on dark magic entailed.”
“Why would you tell me this, Harry?” Minerva “This basically makes me an accomplice to the crime! Why would Hermione agree to this?”
“Tell me Hermione isn’t safer now, legally at least, than she ever could have been otherwise. She knows that as well. And we’ve been each others family for years. I love Ron, I do, but he’s always had his family, and they have each other. It’s different.” Harry explained. “And the ritual was not strictly legal, but it wasn’t illegal at the time we performed it, so they can't do anything ‘bout it. Especially not now, it was years ago and nobody – apart from you now – knows. Everybody still thinks I just made Hermione a ward of House Potter, which, as we’ve already discussed, isn’t strictly wrong.”
The noise Minerva made in answer to that conveyed her opinion on such finickiness quite clearly.
“Although I guess all of Britain will know when I introduce my new niece or nephew in front of the Wizengamot, at least.” Harry mused. “Nothing for it.”
“No, I would think not.” Minerva pursed her lips, “And you are absolutely sure that they cannae get you for that?”
“Yes, I’m sure, Minerva.” Harry answered. “Hermione researched it, so you know it’s sound. And I got it looked over by a lawyer as well.”
“By a lawyer?!” Minerva sat up so quickly the tea nearly sloshed out of the cup. “Are ye mad? I though you said nobody else new about it? It’s a wonder it hasn’t been in the prophet!”
“It’s fine!” Harry held his hands up placatingly. “It’s fine, I promise. I gave it to the Black family lawyer. Believe me, the secrecy clauses are as tight as can be. Apart from that, he’s seen far worse. Far, far worse, if the documents I read are any indication.
In any case, he’s had enough time to sell it to the papers and he didn’t. it’s all good.”
“Hmph.”
“Don’t worry about it, Minerva, really.”
“Fine.” She answered. “What shall I worry about instead, then?”
Leaning back into the armchair, Harry sighed. “We’ll need a plan. No matter how pseudo-legal it is, it’s still gonna offend a lot of people. I’ll need to tell Ginny, at least, and we both know that she wasn’t spared the Prewett temper. So that’s gonna be an act in itself.”
Minerva only drank her tea without commenting.
“And after that, the world, I guess. Provided that Hermione wants to make her child a Potter. Not in name, maybe, but effectively a member, just like she is. I think she does, but we haven’t really had the time to have an in depth discussion about that.”
“We’ll make two plans then. One for when the bairn is born and you have to introduce it to the wizengamot as a member of House Potter, and one you’ll have take care of before, the organisation of your apprenticeship and how to best help Hermione.” Minerva summarised.
“It doesn’t sound so bad when you say it like that.” Harry said, although even he heard the defeat in his voice.
Minerva smiled, “It isn’t so bad, lad.”
Hours later, as he left Hogwarts with scotch in his belly and plans in his head, Harry felt much better.