Covert Communications
A/N: I've read a few fanfics which have a two-way journal. This is that sort of thing. Starting from when he leaves school, Harry and Minerva communicate in secret to stay informed of what's going on. I guess it's going to be like a diary-type of format.
June, Sixth year. Just after Dumbledore's death
Harry stood in the headmaster's office, still shocked from seeing Professor Snape murder Dumbledore, and being unable to do anything. Having Snape stand there and tell him to remain quiet hadn't helped matters either. There was a new addition to the collection of headmaster's portraits: Dumbledore sat in his portrait, looking as he did before his hand had turned black and sickly-looking.
The door opened and Professor McGonagall entered.
She too seemed shocked, and Harry really wasn't surprised. She and Dumbledore had been quite close friends, and he had, once upon a time, been her teacher.
Hogwarts without Dumbledore was quite difficult to imagine.
As he looked around the office, noticing the absence of ever-loyal Fawkes, Harry wondered what the school would be like next year. He doubted that McGonagall would take over as Headmistress: Voldemort had taken a major victory now that Dumbledore was gone. People had always said that he was the only wizard Voldemort had ever feared. With Dumbledore gone, he could, and would, do anything he wanted.
More likely there would be Death Eaters in to run the school now. Probably Voldemort would be assigning one to Headmaster, being de facto Headmaster.
McGonagall was still watching him, and he thought there was some sympathy in her gaze. She offered that if he needed to talk to her, he could. He doubted that he would take her up on it. She had her own things to deal with now, and next year she'd be watching as her home was either flattened or taken over by Death Eaters.
Harry processed her offer through a bit of a daze. He wasn't sure it'd be too beneficial to either of them to talk about it all.
Instead of acknowledging her, he just turned and walked out. She watched him go, before turning to Dumbledore's portrait. He smiled at her, but it was a sad smile. It was the smile of someone who's sacrificed themselves for their cause and now had to watch others as they tried to save themselves and not get killed.
Minerva felt the back of her eyes sting a bit as she moved to the desk in the centre of the office. At least for now, it was hers. She may as well show the wizarding world that Hogwarts still had someone at the helm. The Minister surely wouldn't be able to find reason to close the school if there was someone in the position of Headmistress, and Scrimgeour seemed a little more competent than Fudge had been.
The past few days caught up with her and she pulled some papers from the drawer to distract herself. By now Snape would have fled, along with the Death Eaters that had been brought into the school by Draco Malfoy.
She couldn't make sense of it all. What would drive Severus to murder Albus, when he'd spent years risking himself to spy and help the Order? And what might motivate Malfoy to bring Death Eaters into the school? The memory of the Dark Mark over the Astronomy tower was still fresh, and she remembered seeing Dumbledore's body on the ground.
His hand had still been black, and she was certain that Severus or Horace would've done something to try and help it. Whenever she'd asked, or tried to ask him, he'd never given a straight answer.
Finally she gave up and retired to her quarters with a glass of Firewhiskey. Poppy and Pomona hadn't been much in the mood for consolation; they were equally distraught, and Minerva had decided she wanted to be alone with her grief.
The next day, Harry stood on the Astronomy tower with Ron and Hermione. They too seemed numb, shocked that Dumbledore was gone for good. The locket had just turned out to be a fake, and Harry wondered if Dumbledore's death had been inevitable.
Later, they returned to their dorms to pack. Harry reminded himself to later send Professor McGonagall an owl and tell her he wasn't going to be returning next year. No matter how much he wanted to, it wouldn't be safe for him to come back. It would make him a sitting duck for Voldemort, who would know precisely where to find him, and if a Death Eater was assigned to the post of headmaster, it'd be even easier.
No, going on the run would be better. Moving targets were harder to hit. Besides, Hermione was a Muggle-born. She'd automatically be a top target, simply because she was associated with him. Ron was a pureblood, so in theory he might be safest, but he was considered a blood traitor. The three of them were competent enough - in Hermione's case, really competent, and they could look after themselves. There were still some pureblood fanatics, some so crazed that they considered blood traitor as bad as Muggle-born.
Hermione had said something about sending her parents away for their safety, and Harry wondered exactly what she'd do. It was times like these he felt sorry for Muggles, who had no defence against magic. Still, it was safer that he not know. The connection between him and Voldemort was dangerous; he didn't want to risk anything unnecessarily.
Finished packing, he went and joined his friends as they went to dinner.
Dinner was a sombre affair. Already the staff table was showing changes: Professor McGonagall was seated in the chair Dumbledore had always taken, while Professor Flitwick sat to her right. Snape, naturally, was nowhere to be seen and some of the teachers glared at his empty seat as though it personally was responsible for all he'd done.
The Slytherin table too looked different. Malfoy was gone, and his goons looked a little lost without him.
Students were silent, murmuring occasional requests to pass the potatoes or "excuse me's" as they reached over someone else. The usual chatter was gone and the flags that usually adorned the hall were black. Looking around, Harry saw several people with red-rimmed eyes, and he wondered if having a feast was really appropriate. Having portions of food sent to each common room seemed more fitting… then again, this could be considered to be honouring Dumbledore's life.
The ghosts, too were subdued as they drifted about the hall. Even Peeves, who loved to make mischief, looked solemn.
Harry remembered that Dumbledore had been one of the only people Peeves would obey. He wondered what it meant for next year… but then, Peeves might cause havoc for any Death Eaters who took up positions in the castle, and that wouldn't be a bad thing.
After dinner he, Ron and Hermione returned to their common room to draft the letters. Hermione was the quickest, and for once she didn't complain when the boys asked to copy it.
Ten minutes later the three letters were rolled into scrolls and ready to be delivered. They'd agreed that they would send the owls from the train tomorrow morning, and went up to bed.
The morning came early and soon enough everyone was on the train. Harry sent off Hedwig, while Ron and Hermione gave their letters to Pigwidgeon. That done, they watched the countryside pass in near-silence, thinking how they wouldn't be back on this train come September.
Minerva took her seat in her new office. Ordinarily she didn't like to use the house-elves too much, but this time had been an exception. She'd wanted to get moved in as quickly as possible, and then get straight to work.
Several owls arrived. One, from the Minister, confirming her position as Headmistress.
Oddly enough, the next two owls were from students. One was easily recognized as Harry's snowy white owl, Hedwig, and she was certain the other belonged to either Ron or Ginny Weasley. Hedwig circled around idly, hooting softly in a dignified way, while the smaller owl swooped around excitedly.
Looking at the smaller owl, it was almost impossible not to smile slightly. She took the letter from Hedwig first, and the owl nipped her finger lightly before flying out.
Minerva opened the letter with some level of worry, wondering why Harry and his friends would need to write to her so soon after getting on the train.
Dear Professor McGonagall
I wish to inform you that in light of recent events, I will not be returning to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for my seventh year.
This is due in part to the fact that personal safety will likely be compromised next year, and in part due to something that needs to be done. This, however, cannot be done while at Hogwarts.
Sincerely,
Harry James Potter.
It didn't quite surprise Minerva, and she wondered why she wasn't surprised. She'd known that Dumbledore had been doing something: there had been times during the year that he disappeared and didn't give a reason. He'd never told her what it was, and she supposed now that whatever it was, it was both dangerous and dangerous to know about.
The fact that Harry seemed to be taking it over didn't inspire confidence in her.
She took the two letters from the little owl that was now hopping up and down on one leg and slit them open.
They were exact replicas of Harry's letter, the exceptions being in the signatures. One was Ron Weasley; the other, which surprised her, was Hermione Granger. Given how devoted she'd been to her studies, it was certainly unusual that she be dropping out of school.
On second thought… she was close to Harry, and she was Muggle-born. As far as Voldemort and the Death Eaters were concerned, both things would put her right at the top of a list of targets. Probably she'd be right below Harry.
Already feeling dispirited, Minerva got to checking on who would be coming to Hogwarts next year.
Harry had arrived at Privet Drive and begun the task of persuading his relatives that they had to start preparing to leave. Perhaps due to her knowledge of the wizarding world, Petunia was the easiest to convince. Vernon and Dudley hadn't liked it, but Harry thought he'd managed to get through to them.
Either way, they all needed the protection of the wards until Harry's birthday. It was just fortunate that they were still intact, even after the rows and trouble that had happened over the years.
Even so, it would protect them all long enough for the Dursleys to get everything packed together so that when it came time for Harry to be moved, they could just get in the car and go.
As he was unpacking his things, he came across a slim, green leather-bound journal. He'd forgotten to give it to Professor McGonagall when he'd last seen her.
It was a two-way journal, intended that only they could communicate. Harry was pretty sure it would be useful for them to be able to communicate about what was going on in the world while he and his friends were on the run or in hiding. After all, it wasn't as though they would have TV or newspapers delivered daily.
He shrugged it off and set it into a backpack. Once he was at the Burrow, he'd find a way. Maybe Dobby would help.
The next few days passed in a pattern of keeping track of the news, watching out of windows from behind curtains and helping his relatives pack things into suitcases and bags. It was times like these that magic would help, and a couple of people from the Order did stop by occasionally to help. Still, they were trying to use as little magic as possible. Any day now, the Ministry could fall to Voldemort, and they didn't want to risk bringing too much attention to Privet Drive.
Harry paused from boxing books one day to watch his relatives take down photos. After some consideration, Vernon had decided it'd be most practical to take just what could fit into the car and a trailer, and even though the suitcases and boxes were enhanced with magic, it was still depressing to watch them trying to fit twenty years' worth of stuff into just a few square metres of space.