Disclaimer - Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K Rowling. This short story belongs to me.

A/N – Well hello, and welcome to my newest Harry Potter story. This is just a little scene that I kind of wish had been in the Philosopher's Stone, simply because I love McGonagall, and wish that she and Harry had had a stronger relationship in the books. This is definitely AU, but I hope it's at least realistic, and more importantly, I hope you like it!


~ Bravery ~


"Professor?"

Somewhat surprised to find that a student wanted to speak to her so close to the end of term, McGonagall turned her attention away from the last minute paperwork she was doing and shifted her gaze to the child. To her even greater surprise, her eyes were met with a shade of green that eerily reminded her of another student from a long time ago.

"Mr Potter?" she began, unable to keep the confusion out of her expression. The boy had only just been released from the Hospital Wing after that fiasco with the Philosopher's stone and was supposed to be on his way to the end of year feast. She herself was running late. "What are you doing here?

Still standing in the doorway to her office, Potter seemed nervous and anxious, his gaze dropping to the floor as he shifted from foot to foot. McGonagall felt a tendril of apprehension run through her at the mere sight of his anxiousness, though she did her best to push it away.

"I...erm...can I talk to you?" His voice was still a little hoarse after his brief hospital stay, but otherwise Potter seemed to have made a full recovery. Although, now that she looked more closely, he did look a little pale. And definitely nervous...

She glanced at her watch, sighing slightly. The feast was about the start, and Albus wouldn't be happy if she was late. Unfortunately the boy was perceptive, and Potter noticed her reluctance straight away, immediately jumping to the wrong conclusions.

"It...It doesn't matter," he said quickly, although the expression of hurt that crossed his face belied his words.

"Come, sit down Mr Potter," she gestured, trying to fix a reassuring expression onto her face in order to calm him down. Potter seemed bothered by something, and she knew she'd be a rotten Head of House if she didn't at least hear what he had to say. She had made that mistake already, failing the boy when she should have protected him. It was a moment that would haunt her for as long as she lived.

She had no intention of making that mistake again.

Glancing over to her student as he took a seat in front of her desk, McGonagall thought about how terrifying the last few days had been. There had been moments, particularly when he'd been in a coma, when they hadn't even been sure if Potter would make it. And if he had lost that fight, McGonagall knew that there would have been no one to blame but themselves. They had failed him, well and truly; of that she had no doubt.

Well, she thought as she waited for him to speak, she refused to fail the boy now. McGonagall was silent as she watched him continue to fidget in the chair, obviously trying to gather to courage to say what was on his mind. However, when minutes passed in which he still made no move to speak, McGonagall knew she had no choice but to give him a little nudge along.

"What is it you wanted to speak to me about, Mr Potter?" she asked, resting her hands on the desk in front of her in what she hoped was an unthreatening manner.

"I…uh…I just…" He trailed off, clearly struggling to find the right words.

She sighed. "Mr Potter – "

"I don't want to go back to the Dursleys," he blurted out, his face flushing a deep crimson.

McGonagall felt as if she had been doused in cold water, and her heart started beating loudly in her chest as her concern and panic grew. It was all she could do to keep her expression free of her shock, since such a reaction would surely send him running, but she wasn't sure how long she was going to be able to keep it up. He didn't want to go back...

"Excuse me?" she began, because surely she had misheard him. He couldn't possibly…

"Professor," he begged, his eyes rising to search those of McGonagall as he implored his Head of House to listen, "I don't want to go back."

Fear lined Harry's young face, and the contrast between his expression and James Potter's much more jovial and carefree face was stark and shocking. Never had the two boys looked more different.

"Mr Potter – "

"I know it's late in the year to be asking," he continued, his nerves clearly getting the better of him. "But I really, really don't want to go back to them. And I know I don't have any other family, but Ron said I could stay with him at his house for a bit, or maybe I could stay here, at Hogwarts. I mean, I won't be any trouble, I promise –"

"Slow down, Mr Potter," she interrupted gently, holding up her hand. Her mind was awash with all manner of terrible thoughts, and it was taking a concerted effort to remain calm. "Why don't you simply start at the beginning?"

"Well, my relatives…they don't like me very much," Potter replied, his gaze dropping as he fiddled with the bandage still wrapped around his hand.

"What do you mean, they don't like you?" she prompted, a sense of dread rising up rapidly in her chest.

"I'm a burden to them," he mumbled, and McGonagall could detect a sense of shame within the boy. Her feeling of dread quickly transformed into anger. "They don't…treat me very well."

She didn't want to ask, she didn't want to know more, but she knew that it was her duty as a teacher, as a human being to find out exactly how deep the...mistreatment went.

"I'll understand if you don't want to tell me," she began cautiously, suddenly worried about spooking him. "But you've been very brave in coming to me today, Mr Potter, and I want you to know that you can trust me with anything."

"I know, Ma'am," he muttered, and she noticed, with some relief, that he was being sincere. "I just…I don't really want to talk about it. But I…I don't want to go back. I'm…scared."

"Can you tell me why?" she asked. "What are you scared of?"

"My Uncle," he mumbled. "He really doesn't like me."

"Mr Potter, can you tell me why you're scared of your Uncle?"

He hesitated, his green eyes full of fear, and she felt her heart clench in sadness. She tried to give him a reassuring smile, but her face was tight and the action felt unnatural with all the anger flowing through her mind. Those damn muggles…

"I thought it was normal," he began, his voice so quiet that it was almost a whisper. She strained her ears, aware that this might be the only time that Potter was able to find the courage to speak. She had no intention of letting him down. "When I was at primary school, no one liked me then either. I was a…freak."

She flinched, and he must have caught it, because he looked down, his face flushing red in shame. She immediately regretted her failure to control her reaction to his confession.

"I…apologise, Mr Potter," she said softly, hoping that she hadn't caused any irreparable damage between them. "Please, continue."

He nodded uncertainly. "Anyway, I…er…I thought it my fault."

She didn't need him to expand what 'it' was, since her mind was doing a good job at parading haunting images through her head already.

"But," he continued, "Then I came to Hogwarts, and I actually found friends. People who liked me, who didn't think I was a freak. And then I…I suppose I've realised that it's not normal, even for someone like me. Ron's dad never hits him. Hermione's mum doesn't make her cook and clean – "

"Does your Uncle hit you, Mr Potter?" she asked quietly, not sure if he was even aware of what he had just let slip to her.

His eyes widened, and she knew in that moment that her instincts were right. "I…er…"

"Mr Potter, please," she implored, careful to keep her voice calm. "I know it's scary to admit that something like that has happened to you, but I want you to know that you can trust me. No one should have to live with someone who treats them badly, and no adult should ever hit a child. And I promise, I will do everything I can do to help you. Even if it means taking you in myself."

"Yes," Potter whispered in reply, looking shell-shocked at the strength of her words. "He hits me. All the time."

"Oh, Harry," she said, her voice breaking slightly in emotion. The boy in front of her had been through so much, and this was just another situation that he didn't deserve. "I'm so sorry."

"You believe me?" he asked, and she felt her heart break all over again, because he actually seemed surprised. McGonagall found herself adding his Muggle primary school teachers to the list of people who would soon be feeling her angry wrath.

She took a deep breath as she tried to steady herself, and instead tried to focus on proving to him that she could be trusted, that she was not going to join the countless other adults in his life who had let him down.

"Are you lying to me?" she asked, careful to look him straight in the eye.

"No," he replied, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Then I believe you," she said simply.

"Oh," he replied, his gaze dropping again.

He was quiet then, and it was clear to her that Potter just didn't know what to do or how to act when faced with someone who not only knew his secret, but who also believed him. It was a life-changing confession, a staggering secret that he had found the courage to tell her, and she felt her heart clench not only in concern but also in sadness. How many people had he told his secret to who had then done nothing to help him?

"So, what now?" he asked finally.

"I don't know, Mr Potter," she replied with a sigh, her thoughts flying around her head at a speed she couldn't even begin to control.

"Do I have to –?"

"You will not be returning there," she interrupted firmly, already knowing what he was about to say. "That much I can assure you of."

"Oh."

"Will you allow me some time to think about it, Mr Potter?" she asked, conscious that he would not appreciate it if she made a decision about where he would be staying over the summer without speaking to him first.

"Er…yeah," he replied, clearly surprised that she was taking his feelings into account. It was clear to her that the damage done by his relatives extended way beyond the physical. She felt her anger grow, and it took all of her remaining energy to push it back. In its place, however, came only regret and sadness. She suddenly felt so old...

"Shall we meet back in my office after the feast?" McGonagall suggested with a sigh, glancing down at her watch. "In the meantime, I'll speak to Professor Dumbledore to see if he can join us. He will need to be told, I'm afraid."

"I know," Potter mumbled.

"But I will not tell him anything without your express permission," she continued, saddened by his desolate expression. "I think I owe you that much."

"Thank you, Professor," he replied quietly, his eyes shining with gratitude. She swallowed back her own emotion as best she could, but she did allow a small smile to grace her face, which she hoped showed Potter just how proud she was of him.

He smiled shyly back as he pulled himself up from the chair, suddenly making all the worry and concern worth it. She watched silently as he began to make his way to the doorway once again, his steps a little more sure, his back a little straighter. She knew that the road would not be an easy one for him, but she also knew that there was a strength in Potter that she had never seen matched in anyone else. If anyone could handle the pressure, he could.

"It will be okay, Mr Potter," she said suddenly, just as he reached the door to her office.

"I know," he said, turning back to face her. "I…I trust you, Professor."

And she was glad, because maybe, just maybe, that would be enough.


A/N – So how was it? I realise that it's short, but I like where it's ended so I think I'll leave it as a one-shot for now, although I may decide to add more at some point in the future. For now though, if you liked this please let me know, and also please check out my other stories (I have quite a few, and you never know, you might like some of them too). Until next time, thanks for reading!