WHEN THE CRADLE BREAKS 2
Author: Catherine E. Grant (avatar_31@angelfire.com)
Disclaimer: Only the story belongs to me, the setting and all involved belong to J.K. Rowling.
The dining hall of Hogwarts was filled with an absurd hush as Professor Dumbledore made his announcement. A few grins were apparent at the Slytherin table. The Headmaster noted with sorrow that both Professors Trelawney and Snape looked like they'd just been handed the House Cup on a platter. He had been planning to talk with them about their ridiculous feud with Minerva, but somehow it had never seemed the right time. Now she was lying in a coma in the hospital wing and they were gloating. He shook his head. What secrets lay between them, he had no idea. Perhaps a simple talk with Minerva was overdue. She'd been such a bright child and he couldn't understand where they had gone wrong.
Madame Pomfrey had been the one to find her. Draped across her sofa, tear stains marring her pale complexion. A waxy pallor overshadowed her usually slender frame and her breath barely fogged the mirror the other woman produced with trembling hands.
Dumbledore had known fear one of the few times in his life when Madame Pomfrey walked into his office.
His ageless eyes glinted sadly behind the near-legendary half-moon glasses as he took in the scene before him. A shattered glass lay beneath her outreached hand. Several drops of liquid had curdled in the shards. Of the rest of it, there was no sign. Albus could only pray that she had not drunk the entire mixture.
"Get that checked out" he said quietly. Pomfrey nodded. "I'll take her to the hospital wing." Gently he cradled the fallen woman in his arms, and was surprised at the lack of weight. Her hair hung awkwardly over his arm, and he shifted slightly to make carrying her easier. As he did so, her robes slipped. Dumbledore swore softly at the old burns and scars across her collarbone. Little surprise, then, that Minerva didn't favour the revealing robes favoured by so many young witches. "Poppy." The woman followed his gaze and was visibly shaken. "I think we have a bigger problem here than some mystery potion."
Dumbledore's thoughts wandered back to the pair of gloating faces in the great hall, and he was sorely troubled.
~~~
Meet the Marauders. Seventh year, Gryffindor House. Location: Transfigurations Class.
The Members: James Potter, also known as 'Prongs.' Head Boy. Grave disposition balanced by a lively sense of humour and keen intellect. Popular.
Sirius Black. Best friends with Potter. A rule-breaker yet protective and supportive towards his friends. Likes to joke but sometimes doesn't know when to pull a punch. Luckily, James is nearly always there to pull him out of a mess.
Remus Lupin, who just happens to be the only werewolf to ever attend Hogwarts. Serious personality, very warm-hearted and caring though he tends to lock his feelings away. His friendship is not given easily but is for life.
Peter Pettigrew. Small, rat-like, cunning and canny. Though without the quick mentality of his friends he uses his sly mind to achieve results. Perhaps to anyone other than James Potter he would be someone to watch, yet James trusts him and his friends extend that same acceptance.
Lily Evans, the newest member of the little clique and James' steady girlfriend. High moral standards yet has learnt in the company of the others how to unbend. Somewhat.
As the only other Transfiguration teacher, Dumbledore himself was filling in during Professor McGonagall's 'illness,' as he termed it. Yet, the usually unflappable Headmaster seemed strangely sad and thoughtful whenever her name was mentioned, and the students could only try to fill in the blanks themselves.
"I hear she finally decided to accept that she was dead and retire gracefully," declared Sirius Black, in the loud voice he always affected whenever he wanted to be heard and noted. His classmates clustered around him talking excitedly. "Well, you know what they call her, Lady Death" he was explaining his comment.
"Where did you hear that, Mr Black?" Dumbledore's smooth voice cut across the conversation.
Sirius turned an unembarrassed face to him as many of his friends moved away. "Professor Snape, sir" he said calmly. The Headmaster's eyes narrowed. "Yes, I've spoken to him about black-mouthing his colleagues."
Someone sniggered.
"You find this humorous? I am indeed happy for you. Until we can all share this mirth I must resort to taking ten points off Gryffindor."
He opened his book pointedly and the lesson began.
In the middle of the back row, a wiry, nervous looking boy was collecting his fair share of bruised ankles. "That's for getting those points taken off us" hissed Lily Evans; a tall, popular girl recently named prefect. She took her responsibilities seriously. "Well I couldn't help it!" Peter Pettigrew whined. On his other side, Remus Lupin snorted loudly and barely avoided detection. "Yeah, real funny" he muttered. Pettigrew rolled his eyes.
Remus twisted uneasily in his seat. Every so often, he paused to send a dark look towards Pettigrew and Sirius. He was partly angry, partly upset and partly disappointed, as though he believed his friends would have shared his concern. But the fury that he felt he kept well contained. Flashes of his anger danced once or twice as he gave his baneful glare, but Remus found it difficult to express what he felt in words. Somehow he just knew that the absent Professor deserved greater respect.
Sirius caught his look and smirked. Pay attention he scribbled on a corner of his parchment. Remus scribbled back Can't think today and his friend nodded. He knew why.
Class dragged. Homework was given, instructions to prepare for the next class. A sea of heads nodded studiously. Only one had any intention of having any work done at all, and Lily had nearly finished the homework for the next few chapters.
As the classroom emptied, Remus gathered his books up slowly and walked up to the board. He caught Sirius' eye; the other boy nodded. He'd catch up with them later. "Professor Dumbledore, sir?"
He turned and blue eyes met golden. "Yes, Mr Lupin?" Dark circles marred the old man's face and he looked as though he hadn't slept in days – which, considering the circumstances, he probably hadn't. "Um, I was wondering – how is she?"
Dumbledore nodded to himself and smiled sadly. He regarded Remus with affection. "Not good, I'm afraid."
"Would I be able to see her?" The Headmaster listened to the eagerness in the boy's words and saw the hope glistening in his eyes. Sadly he remembered a time when he, too, had been so innocent, had believed dreams could change the world. But this boy has had a harder start to life than most, he reminded himself. Still, the unspoken faith in Remus' face shook Dumbledore greatly.
"Just for a moment or two," he agreed, and received a sweet smile in response. Remus fell into step behind him, clutching his books with an almost forlorn cast to his expression. He hopes, but he doesn't have much faith after all, the Headmaster realised.
"You see, Mr Lupin-" Dumbledore found himself falling into a fatherly tone with the boy, "We can't actually treat Professor McGonagall, because we can't tell what's wrong with her. Something in that potion she drank, no doubt. We found residue of a sleeping potion in the glass, but not even Professor Snape can ascertain what the rest of the mixture was, or even if was meant to be there. What ever it was, there aren't enough traces left to identify."
Remus nodded slowly, digesting the information. Dumbledore noted with sorrow he hugged his books even tighter. I wish I had some better news to give you, he thought, but it's all we can do to even keep her alive. This he would not voice aloud. Dumbledore kept to himself also the marks of old abuse that he and Madame Pomfrey had found on their 'Sleeping Beauty.' Poppy had examined her further and her face had been grave when she told him the oldest of the scars was around thirteen years old and the newest five. Minerva was only twenty-three. In Dumbledore's horrified eyes, that meant the abuse and Minerva's years at Hogwarts coincided exactly. He knew her parents and he would rather have eaten the Sorting Hat than accuse them of any form of child abuse. He knew they loved their daughter for all they little understood her. Who, then? Other students?
The triumphant gloats of Snape and Trelawney kept coming back to haunt him.
Them, then? Surely not. Severus had been a model student, a Prefect and popular. Sybill had been Minerva's friend! Frowning, Dumbledore tried to place a date on the severing of that friendship.
Severing. What an interesting word. It would have been about fourth year, wouldn't it? Around the time Sybill starting seeing Severus.
It hurt to imagine Hogwarts students, his students, willingly abusing their classmates. They couldn't do such a thing. Could they?
Minerva had always been a loner. To his fond thought it was because she'd been so bookish she didn't have the same needs as other students, she did well enough with her books and with her studies. He'd even encouraged her to keep apart. The next Dumbledore, he'd thought of her, proudly going about his way to train his successor as Headmaster.
Now Dumbledore found his assumptions challenged, and he didn't like it in the slightest. Perhaps she'd been a loner because she didn't have any friends that she could turn to… Perhaps she didn't feel that she could trust anyone.
No, they'd been her classmates, her housemates in some cases; of course she could trust them. House ties were as strong as family.
Why then have a Hufflepuff for an only friend?
But not for long.
They would have accepted her, wouldn't they? Yes, they would have. Just because she was younger than them didn't mean they wouldn't like her. Although she'd always beaten them in school work and in flying.
Dumbledore's brow creased again as he pondered this quandary. She'd been pretty good on her broomstick, he'd watched her several times when she'd flown. Funny that she never wanted to join the Quidditch team, positively ran off in fright when he suggested it. Funny that no other Gryffindor had ever suggested it. Of course, they'd rarely ever seen her fly…
Because she never flew when there was a chance someone could have knocked her off her broom.
Dumbledore was putting figures together and coming up with answers that he didn't want to accept.
Faintly he felt a gentle tugging at his sleeve, and turned, bemusedly. He looked across into the concerned face of Remus Lupin. "Sir, are you alright?" the boy asked. "The infirmary's right here."
"It is? Oh." Dumbledore shook his head. "Sorry about that, I was thinking." He shook his head again to clear it.
The Headmaster stuck his head round the door. Poppy Pomfrey and a first year Ravenclaw girl looked up in surprise. "Beth?" he asked quietly and the girl nodded, blushing at being addressed by Dumbledore.
"When you're finished, could you find Professors Trelawney and Snape and bring them here? I'd like a few words with them."
"I'll go right away sir," she replied and slipped away quickly.
Poppy stood up and brushed down her robes. She gave them a weak smile. "No change," she answered the unspoken question.
Dumbledore gestured for Remus to proceed him into the room. "There's no time like the present," he told him calmly, though his own thoughts were entangled in the past.