Chapter Text
Minerva enjoys a beautiful four-course dinner with her wife. A wonderful evening, with soft music in the background and an ambience to match. A very exclusive restaurant, a very expensive one too, the kind of place where high government officials go. In other circumstances a teacher's and nurse's salary, even that of the largest and most prestigious magic school, would hardly allow them to sit at one of these tables with candles and fine cutlery, not the kind of place they seek to frequent in the first place. But when it is paid for by none other than one Alphard Black, then certain luxuries are permissible and Minerva, who does not usually accept gifts from parents or alumni, chooses to indulge in this little treat. Keeping an eye on Sirius, Alphard's precious nephew, has won her this dinner by a landslide.
"Minerva," whispers Poppy softly. The savoury smells of the dishes swim unconcernedly among the tables, "Will you tell me what you did to make Mr. Black give us such a kind gift?" Poppy looks around at the few people sharing an equally splendid evening; all of them in bespoke clothes and sumptuous voices that the charms between diners render unintelligible.
"Call him Alphard" she says with some bite in her voice "Calling him Mr. Black just inflates his head."
Poppy just sighs in amusement. "Just promise me you haven't got into trouble."
Deep down Minerva feels some indignation, and with good reason. She's not one to get into trouble, no matter what Poppy might claim. Minerva has always been a rule follower, a bit adventurous she won't deny it, but she's never done anything that would earn her (and if she has, she hasn't been caught) time in Azkaban as Poppy seems to imply. Though considering that little incident of Mr. Lupin's with his parents, helping him cover up his escape to another country, the above no longer sounds like an accurate statement.
"It's all perfectly fine," she says, taking a sip from her wine glass, "Alphard just wanted to make a nice gesture, and you know what? We've earned it… young Mr. Black and his gang are troublemakers and pranksters, and the one who has to deal with the consequences of their games is me."
"It's not like it causes you pain," Poppy points out "You've got a soft spot for those kids, don't think I haven't noticed."
Minerva snorts. A soft place.
Perhaps.
Maybe.
Yes.
Those kids have managed to soften her up, just a little. Minerva finds that, for all their playfulness, they are bright children who could use their efforts in planning less Machiavellian activities and more in studying for their exams. But even at that, that quartet of her lions are very good students. No surprise then, Minerva muses with the woody hints of wine on her lips, that they are so prone to creating chaos… Brilliant minds, when bored, look for ways to entertain themselves.
"I don't know what you're talking about" she lies.
Poppy hums, takes a small bite of the tender lamb meat, and pretends to give it to her side.
In the background, a little voice insults Minerva for the things she has kept from her wife. Above that little voice, her soul swells with appreciation and other equally warm feelings. Poppy doesn't know what exactly has been going on between Minerva, Alphard and the pair of students in her house. She has some idea, Minerva has told her so much, but the explanations pale in the face of the full truth.
Lying to each other and hiding things from each other is something Minerva tends to fall into on occasion. Something Poppy has known how to tolerate. Minerva has a bad habit of hiding certain things either for the safety of both of them or for the delicacy of the information… not that the nature of Minerva's work is anything dangerous, but as one of Dumbledore's most trusted people she has heard and seen things, nothing so serious as hiding two time travellers, but still…
Poppy doesn't demand answers, doesn't question her beyond sardonic comments about her strange closeness with Mr. Lupin and Mr. Black. She obviously senses there is more to it, Poppy is no fool. The excuses of private tuition and one-to-one lessons sound implausible. Minerva has told her some things, light pinpricks of truth, to ease her conscience and placate her wife. This is why Poppy allows Mr. Black to visit Mr. Lupin at the end of the full moons in the infirmary.
"Ladies," a young waiter approaches them. The magical world is so small that Minerva recognises him as a former student of the school. "Sorry to interrupt your dinner, we have a letter for Mrs. McGonagall."
The young man tips a tiny steel tray. On top of it is a cream-coloured letter, clumsily sealed and signed in haste. Minerva takes the letter, thanks the young man, and resists the urge to snort at this boy's insistence on treating her formally, as if Minerva hadn't had him running through the corridors just a few years ago.
"Professor, I'm sorry to disturb you.
Someone tried to steal the stone (THE STONE) and we tried to stop them.
We think it's Professor Breedlove although the possibility of it being You-Know-Who is just as well on the table.
Happy Anniversary!
P.S. We have an injured one, you may want to come back soon.
Remus J. Lupin."
"Everything all right?" the hand of Poppy, her skin taut with age and long hours of working at potion making, rests on Minerva's "You look pale."
"It seems some of my students have decided to take advantage of my absence," she explains. The noise at the other tables, along with the fascinating aromas of well-seasoned food, mingle unpleasantly. A headache from crown to neck.
"I'll get our coats" Poppy informs without looking frustrated at having to stop their celebration "And finish that drink, looks like you're going to need it… Doctor's orders."
Doctor's orders are always ridiculous things like sleeping eight hours or eating three meals. This, however, is one doctor's order Minerva doesn't intend to argue with. She holds the glass in a firm grip that tests the resistance of the crystal, drinking the remainder of her wine with the spirit of someone drinking bitter syrup.
The next time she sees Alphard, she'll be sure to pass him the brochure for that nice Caribbean cruise.
"Where is he?" asks Minerva coming out of the fireplace in Poppy's office. The restaurant didn't put up any objections to letting them use its flu network. "One, two, three… one of you is missing."
"Sirius is facing Professor Breedlove" explains James. The boy is bathed in white chalk on his dark uniform, his glasses are dirty, and his hands have little cuts on them "You have to help him professor!"
"Professor Breedlove?" asks Minerva "Are you sure about this, boys?" one of her students lies unconscious on one of the many beds in the infirmary, Poppy doesn't look worried about Mr. Pettigrew's condition so it can't be serious. As for her other two students, Minerva chooses to stare at Mr. Lupin; even if he wasn't a time traveller, Remus is a very intelligent and trustworthy young boy.
"Someone has tried to steal the stone" replies Mr. Lupin without confirming or denying her question "When we arrived Fluffy was already asleep."
Minerva pursed her lips. She was confident that Mr. Black was more than capable of looking after himself. "You two stay here" she ordered "Mr. Lupin, please send a letter to Professor Dumbledore, tell him that an infiltrator has been spotted in the school. Send it to the Ministry, to the Wizengamont chambers."
She wasn't going to wait for Albus to return to the castle to solve the problem, but she was confident that the old man would know how to take care of the other details as long as Minerva was going to get her student out of danger. Dark Lord or not, Defence Professor or not, she was going to get that boy out by his ears.
Minerva left the children, some more injured than others, in Poppy's capable hands. Years of service to the school have shown her many things. She has seen students almost drown in the lake and solved it by putting in a friendly creature who can catch the clumsy children and return them to dry land. She has witnessed brutal fights between the houses, and although she has yet to come up with a solution for that, the sight of blood and curses on students has become a casual part of her routine. She is surrounded by teenagers, that alone has made her tough and unimpressive. So, contrary to what might be expected, her heart does not pound nervously nor do her steps falter as she marches at full speed down the third floor corridor.
Her other colleagues must be celebrating the end of a successful year and her prefects are surely in a similar festive mood. She doesn't bother to call them. She alone can deal with any threat.
The entrance to the corridor on the third floor let out a lullaby. A harp was playing next to the cerberus, keeping the creature asleep. Minerva ignored it, transformed the fleshy bones that littered next to the heads and turned them into a ladder to climb down the trapdoor.
Pomona's trap was nowhere to be found. If those kids managed to kill one of her plants, Pomona was going to be furious. The keys flying into the next chamber trembled in the air, Minerva only gave them a glance before casting a spell and freezing them. The keys hit the floor like dead flies, and quickly Minerva was able to find the one that would let her continue the circuit.
None of the professors had put any particular effort into the traps. The aim was not to protect the stone, but to slow down the offender - this is a school for Merlin's sake! Albus may be very much the headmaster, but Minerva put her foot down and refused to set potentially dangerous traps where her students could be killed. The professors were going to slow down the offender, the real protection was whatever Dumbledore had planned.
Chess is simple, she was the one who did the spells and arrangements. She just uses the counterspell and walks over the rubble. It's a pity the troll was put in time out because Minerva was ready to take out the stress and frustration with a couple of clever spells… The potions are the headache, in a fit of anger she sends all the remaining vials flying into the flames and to her surprise, the fire is extinguished immediately.
The way is clear at both ends and she wastes no time in running.
The sight that greets her can be placed in a special place in her memory. She sees Mr. Black sitting astride Breedlove. The angry, determined look, the death grip the boy has on the other professor's neck. In the same second that the image embeds itself in her head, she sees Mr. Black collapse.
Minerva has rarely felt fear. It is a clumsy and useless emotion. But by Merlin, Morgana and all the great wizards, if at that moment her heart doesn't skip a beat.
Run, she runs as she hasn't done in years. She lifts Mr. Black, whose pulse is so low it's hard to feel it. There's not much she knows about healing magic, but she's married to the best witch in the area, some things you learn over time.
Mr. Black is dying, but there is not a single visible wound to explain it. The boy's palms are burned, just a little, but there is no trace of blood. It's something internal, something she can't fix.
"Incarcerous" she throws in the direction of her fallen colleague.
She takes the child in her arms, surprised that he is so light and easy to carry. The heartbeat becomes slower and slower, soft as the flutter of a butterfly, imperceptible.
"You'll be fine," she murmurs, though she's not sure if the words are meant to soothe the child or her, "You're going to be fine."
Poppy will fix it, she tells herself. Poppy will know what to do.
There is silence in the infirmary, only the low snorts of Mr. Black, who is sleeping comfortably, showing no signs of waking up any time soon. Her other students have already been sent back to their dormitories, with the exception of Mr. Pettigrew who is going to have to spend the night in the infirmary.
"Miss Breedlove has been moved to St. Mungo's Hospital, Alastor has taken it upon himself to keep the matter quiet," Albus announces, materialising in the room, "We'll know more when she wakes up."
Minerva flattens her lips into a thin line "You'll be pleased by now" she accuses "Your rubbish has almost killed a student".
There was a moment, a horrible second, when Minerva was sure that Mr. Black's heartbeat, and his shallow breathing, paused. No feeling could describe how Minerva felt at that moment, running through the castle with what looked like the corpse of a child.
"And lucky for all of us," says Albus in an unusually serious voice, "You were able to avoid it."
There is so much Minerva wants to say, so many insults and accusations. She's not going to make them, it's not worth spending her energy on.
"The boy's parents are going to be worried" she says.
Albus whistles.
"The boy's parents are going to be worried, right, Albus?"
When Alphard thinks of his nephews and nieces, he tends to have very clear ideas about each of them. They have, to a certain extent, very marked similarities that can only be attributed to having grown up in a similar family environment; but as much as there are similarities, there are also differences. In character, in tastes, even in values.
And that's not counting the changes that come with age. An eight-year-old Bellatrix is not the same as a twenty-year-old Bellatrix; two very different individuals. He knows that, it's just a natural progression. As children grow older they acquire greater maturity and wisdom, they leave behind typical childhood attitudes or in their case, adapt them to function in the adult world.
However, he may have underestimated Sirius and his mischievous tendencies.
"Uncle," Regulus calls with all urgency. Put on alert, Alphard folds the newspaper and leaves it on the side of the dining room table ready to see what put Regulus in such a mood "A letter."
Travelling at full speed, a brown owl flies over the lake next to the house. It looks urgent, gliding through the air and barely stopping just long enough for Pilly to open the window for it. Alphard has limited who can get through the protections of the house, a set of complicated and intricate spells, custom-woven to prevent unwanted visitors. A well-constructed protection that surrounds the house and to which very few people have been given access. There are of course his nephews and Alphard himself; the village neighbours for that matter and Pilly, of course. The barrier also works against correspondence, lest there be a repeat of a scene like the one with Walburga months ago.
As far as correspondence is concerned, there is the mail that is sent to his office in Paris and redirected here, after passing through the appropriate filters. Other, very few, people can also send letters without a problem, among them the Hogwarts staff. Horace enjoys writing the most, sending him routine updates on Sirius's performance in his subject. Then there is Minerva, who, from time to time, sends her complaints about having to deal with Sirius and his unruly friends.
The owl swoops through the window and drops a red, horrible envelope. Sitting down next to him, Regulus tenses, staring apprehensively at the floating letter, a sliver opening in the middle in the shape of a mouth.
"It's not from your mother," Alphard assures him immediately, and to his relief, Minerva's voice comes out of the vociferator laden with tension:
"Mr. Black, I understand that this might not be an appropriate time to communicate with you. Truth be told, Headmaster Dumbledore should have contacted you hours ago, however, as a sign of his terrible memory, he has forgotten to do so." Alphard was sure that as Minerva recorded the message, said Headmaster Dumbledore must have been in the room with her, receiving what must surely have been a thunderous stare "Your nephew, Mr. Sirius Black, was involved in a… matter… and is currently in the care of the hospital wing. The details are unclear at the moment, but in my role as Deputy Headmistress of the school and temporary caretaker of the students during the school year, I feel your presence is most necessary. With no further ado, best regards: Minerva McGonagall"
There are a few seconds of silence inside Alphard's head. Blessed and quiet. Then, the chaos of his mind that is usually reserved for the multitude of pending work, contracts and meetings, takes the form of Sirius. A thousand scenarios play out at once. Minerva has been so vague in her words, Sirius might as well broken his foot or fainted at dinner. He doubts that's what it is, though. Hogwarts has a bad reputation for keeping parents and guardians poorly informed of activities during the year; a child's parents are only known to be contacted if strictly necessary.
"Pilly, thank you so much for dinner" he announces, standing up and leaving his plate half eaten "I'll have to go out, make sure you lock the doors and windows, I'll ask one of our neighbours to stop by early tomorrow morning to see you if I'm too long in coming back."
Pilly jumped "Of course, Pilly will do as Master Alphard has asked" glad to be able to count on Pilly, he made the attempt to leave the room.
The portkey is in his office so he was going to have to go there first. At least he could relax his thoughts knowing he wouldn't have to go to the Ministry. How grateful he was to the corrupt government workers. Just a few thousand galleons and the French Ministry's Foreign Office didn't hesitate to give him a personal portkey across the borders.
"Are you going to Hogwarts?" asked Regulus, stepping in the doorway with a face of open concern "Take me with you!"
Without further regard, Alphard wanted to refuse, the refusal hanging between his teeth. Who knows what Sirius got himself into, as it may well be a small thing, there was also the possibility that it was a very delicate matter, something Regulus had no business seeing or hearing about.
"I don't want to stay at home," Regulus continued with determination, "I want to see my brother!" his nephew never raised his voice, always speaking in a thin, almost delicate voice.
"All right," said Alphard, taken by surprise at Regulus, "But if you come with me you're going to have to listen to me. If I tell you to get out then you get out, if I tell you to leave us alone then you do, understood?"
"Do you think Siri could be that bad?" asks Regulus a small window of distress opening in his eyes.
"It's possible," he replies, because, while Alphard is more than happy to cover Regulus from whatever horrors the world may have in store for him, that doesn't mean he's going to lie to his nephew. Regulus trusts him, he knows it by the way the boy looks at him, by the way he falls asleep against his side on the couch on the afternoons they read together… Regulus trusts him, and that is a precious treasure that cannot be put at risk. He will never lie to Regulus, not when it comes to things that matter to him, like his brother. "For him to have been taken to the hospital wing and Professor McGonagall to send for me I don't think it's a minor thing… You can come with me, but if it's something really bad, please… I wouldn't want you to see your brother in a bad place and I know he wouldn't want the same" he's a little blunt, he's putting forward the most fatalistic scenario, but Regulus is a smart boy, very mature and very sensible, sugarcoating things for him is an insult.
Regulus nods, concern cloaked in the mask of perfect calm he has been taught to wear. That is one of the many similarities and differences between his nieces and nephews; they all learn to cover their feelings with masks of coolness, but Regulus, rather than coolness, is calm. Empty.
He tells Pilly of the change of plans, the elf makes him swear to look after Sirius, and Alphard has no choice but to agree, otherwise he will have to walk around the castle with a small, determined elf, ready to spoil his nephew. House elves are terrifying, even if they deserve it, Alphard doesn't wish the Hogwarts staff to have to deal with one like Pilly, who doesn't hesitate to show her displeasure with magic.
He leaves the house with thoughts pulling in all directions. All the possibilities turn like pages in a book, and in the margin of each one, he writes carefully what he will do. Regulus keeps the serenity on his face without once dropping it. Not when the portkey drops them on a corner of Diagon Alley, not when Alphard appears them in Hogsmeade, the streets deserted and dark… Regulus remains calm until the very last moment of the ride.
"You're an idiot"
"An imbecile"
"Completely incompetent"
"Pharisaical old goat"
"Useless sack of bones"
"You're a disgrace to the history of this school."
"You're a disgrace to the whole of humanity"
"What the bloody hell were you thinking" Alphard continues with bated breath, slamming the headmaster's desk and leaning over it "when you put that bloody stone in the castle?"
"I promise you Mr. Black, my intentions were not to cause any harm to the students" announces Dumbledore "However, I do take responsibility for the disastrous way this evening went."
"You take responsibility?" snorts Alphard. He is grateful that Minerva is letting him deal with this on his own, the shouting war was something they could share together, but this conversation with Dumbledore is something that only concerns him "You planned to hide this from me, my nephew was in mortal danger and you did not mean to inform me of it."
"I can assure you that such an accusation is exaggerated," replied Dumbledore, "As you can see, young Sirius Black is more than fine. The school is happy to provide the medical services necessary for his speedy recovery."
"Don't speak as if you are doing me a favour, sir," replied Alphard. The audacity and nerve to make this look like a favour, as if the Blacks needed such considerations "Rest assured that my vaults are more than capable of procuring the best trained medical staff for my nephews."
"And I don't doubt it," Dumbledore said calmly, as calmly as if speaking to a child in a tantrum "Even I can't claim to have better resources than your family, Mr. Black. If it is my lack of communication that bothers you then, I must reiterate, that given the current situations in young Sirius's state of health, I did not think your presence here was necessary."
"The boy died, Albus" Minerva points out "You can't be serious!"
"A pause in the heart" corrects Dumbledore "A pause that Madam Pomfrey's capable hands knew how to resume"
"Don't play with words with me" retorts Alphard, "And don't talk as if you have any credit in saving my nephew either, where were you tonight?"
"I understand that being away from home makes news travel slow" Dumbledore holds his gaze with absolute calmness and condescension "I have to inform you then, that an emergency meeting was called at the Wizengamont, you can ask your brother for the details of that, Mr. Black"
"So you leave a valuable object, an object that only last summer was the subject of an attempted theft, and you go off to pander to the idiotic arses of the Wizengamont members" says Alphard "I can see that the students don't seem to be a priority for you"
"As headmaster of the school, you can rest assured that the students are a priority, if not the only one, that I hold."
"And as a wizard? As an adult? As the most powerful wizard of this century? What are your priorities then, headmaster?"
"You've always liked to ask the most curious questions," Dumbledore points out "I don't know what you expect me to do, the things that make you angry have already happened, there is little I can do about them. All that is left for me to do, is to offer you an apology for the inconvenience caused."
Inconvenience. As if Sirius and his friends putting their lives at unnecessary risk in a place that should be safe was a minor inconvenience. As if it wasn't a staff member of this school, a professor no less, who put Sirius's life in a dangerous place.
"I could take you away from here you know," assures Alphard, straightening his back and making sure to look Dumbledore right in the eye. He's not worried about his old professor being able to read his mind, he'd have to go through the thick layers of Occlumency first, and so far, no one has been able to get past them "It wouldn't cost me more than a couple of calls, even your position in the Wizengamont and the International Confederation of Wizards… you're not as powerful as you like to pretend"
"I don't doubt it," Dumbledore replied without looking intimidated and Alphard didn't expect him to be. It wasn't a threat, just a fact. From the moment Sirius Black walked through the castle gates with Alphard Black watching over his shoulder, Dumbledore should have known then that there were students who needed to be taken extra care of. "You haven't changed a bit, have you? It's a pity, I thought the… peculiarities of your siblings would have been able to teach you a better way to use the power."
"If you expect to speak of my siblings to be a blow, I assure you Professor, you will be left expecting it" says Alphard with dark amusement "Speaking ill of them is not the insult you think it is, but if you think yourself in a position to lecture me about my siblings, then I will be willing to listen to your advice on the matter… what does the good Aberforth have to say about his prestigious and renowned brother?"
Dumbledore doesn't flinch or anything, he actually looks amused. The strange relationship between the Dumbledore brothers isn't as secresive as one might think and Alphard has been known to ask the right questions to the right people. You might say he's a gossip, but beyond any brute force, information has always been the source of all lasting power. Dumbledore is the most powerful wizard alive, but that alone is not enough to dominate the magical world, there are other kinds of power, born of wealth and antiquity, that carry greater weight.
"I am sure that on some other occasion we will be able to share our stories, we must have something in common," Dumbledore replies with a jovial smile, "I can think of a few things actually, though that might be better left for a more pleasant time… Please, Mr. Black, feel free to come and visit your nephew, I assure you that the staff of this castle will do everything possible to ensure that an event like this does not happen again. As long as I am here, be assured, that everything humanly possible is being done for the welfare of the students."
"In that case, I hope, Headmaster, that you will not hesitate to call upon me should you need to," Alphard emphasises "On behalf of the noble and most ancient house of Black, as long as members of my family are here, I will be happy to provide my assistance where I can be of service."
"Wouldn't you prefer to serve on the board of governors?" offered Dumbledore "Your opinion would carry a lot of weight there."
"I don't need to be on a school board to make my opinions heard" replies Alphard in a measured tone.
The headmaster's office has changed over the years. The last time Alphard was here, it was to present as his sister's guardian after Walburga was caught in the middle of a nefarious scheme. In those times, the headmaster was Dippet, who was perfectly happy to receive a small donation to compensate for the inconvenience. Money and influence have always been his favourite way to solve any problem, it is a clean solution and leaves everyone satisfied.
You haven't changed a bit, says Dumbledore. He couldn't be more wrong. Alphard is not the same boy with little more than his surname. He has built his own reputation, his own connections. He is a man who can stand in his own right.
"If there's nothing to say, then I'll retire" Alphard announces "My nephews may need me. Have a good night, Headmaster - Minerva, a pleasure to see you as always."
The office door closes with a soft sound. With Alphard out of the room, the air doesn't feel so oppressive.
"You shouldn't make him angry," warns Minerva. The fury she feels for Dumbledore coils in her veins, but it's not worth fighting with foolish men.
"I suppose I underestimated the true care Mr. Black has for his nephews" Dumbledore says lightly "Let's hope he doesn't sue us, don't you think Minerva?" he asks in a teasing tone.
Minerva doesn't find it funny. If there's one thing she can say about the Black family, it's that they're all unpredictable. One after another, they have bitter surprises hiding behind starry eyes and prissy names. Alphard suing the school is a possibility Albus should not see as trivial.
"You are a good man Albus, with all your faults," says Minerva with a sincerity and honesty that speaks of years of friendship "Alphard is not… he never has been. You think us all children, and maybe compared to you, that's a half-truth. But even children can be vicious."
Albus seems to ponder that, an indulgent smile upon his lips "I'm well aware of that, Minerva" he says "There is a time and place for everything, and I have a feeling, these are not times to feud with strong allies."
She remains silent. To imply Alphard as an ally is the furthest thing from the truth. But Minerva will not correct Albus. Time will tell, depending on how future events unfold, whether the interests of all those who were in this office tonight will converge.