McGonagall was many things, a master in Transfiguring, an animagus, a fearless woman and she was a woman who could not easily be talked into doing something without knowing the repercussions.
In a highly unusual notion, Dumbledore, more out of a whim than anything had requested that his longtime friend come to his office.
Still studying the paper before him, he went through his standard greeting and offered her one of his beloved Lemon Drops. The aging witch really was too strict and stern and needed something a bit sweeter to soften her up, alas, all he had was Lemon Drops to offer.
"No, thank you," McGonagall said tartly.
Sighing for he could not stall any longer, Dumbledore sat down again and held up the parchment for the umpteenth time.
"Severus, as you know was teaching the second years how to brew a simple paternity potion as he does every year around this time."
"I am aware of Severus' curriculum. I have the Gryffindor's right after his class and they fill me in on what happens during his classes. I do suggest you ask him to stop deducting quite so many points from my house. I realize they can be a bit chatty sometimes, but I doubt they talk so much where it is necessary to take fifty points a lesson!"
"Ah, but you know Severus as well as I do, Minerva. He has his reasons."
"I dare call house rivalry a reason to take points off of my house, Albus! I take points off Slytherin, yes, but you will also find that I have taken just as many points, if not more, at times, from my own house. I must insist that you talk to him and make him see reason, for I cannot."
"Severus will do what Severus wants to do, I am afraid, but I shall have a word with him after I tell you what transpired in his class today. Assuming the children did not tell you the particulars?
"No, they did not. And I would assume that it had something to do with Potter? He was not in class today."
"Yes, I believe Severus had Mr. Malfoy escort the poor boy to the hospital wing. He received a rather unfortunate fright in Severus' class after Mr. Longbottom's cauldron exploded."
"That boy…" she said shaking her head in resignation. "I heard Severus talk of his performance in his class, he's managed to explode more cauldrons in the two years he's been here than those Weasley twins have managed in their four years combined. Which was, something I thought until now, was unattainable."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled in humor.
"Mr. Longbottom might not be the most inept wizard this school has ever seen in brewing a potion, but I doubt the boy truly met any harm. As for Harry, I am afraid that it did cause more harm than it did good. I do not doubt that a simple calming drought will be all the boy needs before all this is worked out, however, I am sure Poppy will have whatever else he might need on hand."
"What do you mean?" Minerva inquired peering sternly at her employer.
"It would appear that Mr. Potter, is not actually a Potter after all."
"I beg your pardon!" the witch exclaimed in shock.
"This is a shock to all of us, but I will have Poppy or myself perform a more in-depth scan to make certain that Harry, is actually Henry."
"Henry? Is that the poor boy's biological name? I suppose it is not too far off from Harry, many people have actually used Harry as a nickname for Henry. But what happened? Why did we not know? Who is the boy's parents, if not Lily and James?"
"We may never know, but James did come from a long line of purebred witches and wizards so it was possible…"
"Are you saying that James couldn't produce an heir?"
"We will never know for sure, but yes, I suspect that might be the reason behind this."
"Oh, Albus, but what do we do? The poor boy-"
"We will take this one step at a time for now. He knows, he saw the paper."
"What was his last name?" Minerva asked, almost not wanting an answer.
"Winchester."
"I haven't heard of that surname before. Winchester."
"Neither have I," Dumbledore admitted to his old friend once again.
McGonagall was left to think as Albus went to the floo to contact Poppy.
Once he was done McGonagall voiced the same question as Severus did earlier. "Will we be contacting these Winchesters? I suppose to be on the safe side, it will have to be done through muggle means. I mean surely they would have to be better for Harry than his current relatives, witch, wizard, or muggle. I am convinced that they treat him horribly."
"How so? Harry has never mentioned anything to me."
"I remember the night Lily and James were murdered. I went to their house and watched them all the following day. They were rude to everyone. She spoilt their son, I cannot imagine what he must be like now. If I recall correctly, we had a difficult time giving Mr. Potter his letter. You sent Hagrid to personally hand him the letter. Hagrid said that Mr. Dursley attempted to deny Harry's right, and refused to pay so much as a knut for him. I told you then what awful people they were and I believe that nothing has changed. I noticed this year at the Welcoming Feast that he appeared to be a lot thinner and didn't eat nearly as much as he had during the end of last term."
Dumbledore stayed silent, he remembered Harry, or Henry as he supposed he should refer to the young man now, had come to him at the end of last term. Begging, pleading almost, to be allowed to spend the summer months here at Hogwarts rather than to be returned to his relatives. Maybe he should have checked in on Harry then, but he'd been convinced that Harry was being well cared for. Now, so many years later, it would be proved to be the contrary.
Perhaps, just this once, he should have listened to Minerva. He couldn't change the past, for if he could Merlin knows he would, but he could start with the present. And it was presently, that he would start.
John was sitting in a recliner in Bobby's living room reading one of Bobby's many books when an abrupt knock came from the front door.
John raised an eyebrow at Bobby, wondering who the hell it might be at this time of night. The boys never knocked, they just came walking in.
The knocking sound came again, this time more firmly and demanding.
Resigning to the fact that whoever their late-night caller was, wasn't going away Bobby got up and hollered impatiently. "I'ma coming."
A few moments later John heard the door open and he could hear a mumble of voices, but could not make anything in particular out.
A minute later, Bobby came back with a stern looking woman trailing behind him. Her hair was graying and pulled up into a tight bun. She was wearing an emerald dress and gold-framed glasses.
"Mr. Winchester." The woman greeted briskly.
"Ma'am," John responded with forced politeness. He really wanted nothing other than to ask the woman who she was and what she wanted from him but he supposed he should be polite about it, at least until she gave him reason otherwise.
Sensing the man's edginess, she addressed the room at large. "I am Minerva McGonagall. I am a professor at the school your son currently attends."
John bristled, full of suspicion now. "I did not know college professors made it a habit to visit families of their students."
"I beg your pardon?" The woman questioned surprised at his accusation. This made John even more suspicious. Was the woman lying to him? Was she even a professor like she claimed?
"Listen here, I don't know who you are or what you are trying to do but I do doubt you are a teacher at my son's school. I might not have a fancy degree myself, but I know enough about my boys, and life, in general, to know that college professors don't just make impromptu visits with their student's families."
"Mr. Winchester, I did not realize- I wasn't informed you had another son, I am here about Henry Winchester," McGonagall said.
John and Bobby both froze. They stared at the woman in utter shock. Bobby hadn't heard that name in years, as it had almost become taboo to talk about the newborn who had perished alongside his mother in the blaze.
John was filled in rage, and stood up, towering over the woman. "I don't know what tricks you have up your sleeves, but I ain't-a fool." He growled like a feral animal. "You are mistaken. There is no Henry Winchester here. At least not anymore. Henry was killed over ten years ago in a house fire."
"Normally, I would apologize for your loss, but you see, your son, is very much alive and as of until recently, well." The woman said almost severely. She wasn't some old woman who could be intimidated.
John sat down.
"I just found out that one of my students was, in fact, your son and not the son of two good friends of mine. Rest assured, that this was just as much of a shock to us as it is to you. I do not know, how or why Mr. Winchester or ourselves were fooled all of these years, but I assure you that Mr. P-, Winchester, is your son." McGonagall said calmly refusing to allow the muggle to throw her out before she said what she had to say.
"I want proof that this is my son. I refuse to hear any more about this until I have proof that this child is Henry."
"Certainly," McGonagall said drily, carefully procured a heavy, official-looking document that she had skillfully transfigured to look like an official paternity test results. She had decided to do it beforehand in the event that these people were unfamiliar with magic.
The man held the paper and looked at the information. It didn't have much on the document, but it did claim that Henry was his and Mary's son.
John swallowed hard. He was just about ready to say something when the front door opened with a loud bang, momentarily startling him and Bobby and he heard the loud voice of Dean carry into the room. He was arguing about something.
"In here boys," John said gruffly to the two younger men who had just come back from a dinner.
"Hey, Bobby." One of them with hair similar to the unkempt mess that Harry had always worn said.
"Sir," the other shorter one said. McGonagall could tell though that the taller of the two males was the youngest, one of them had to be Sam, the boy who was attending a muggle university she concluded, pleased that she would be able to meet the whole family instead of just the father.
She was not willing to make the same mistake twice and leave Harry, or Henry with someone she didn't feel would take care of him. Although, no Dumbledore, she was fairly good at judging people. Call it a sixth sense if you will.
"These are my two," John faltered a bit before continuing, "other boys, Dean and Sam." John continued to read and reread the paper she'd given him trying to make sense of what it was saying but not quite able to wrap his mind around the fact that Henry was alive.
"What is the likelihood that this is all some mistake? That he is not my son?"
"Dad, what?-" Sam asked cluelessly looking at Dean with wide eyes to validate he had just heard what he thought he had. First, his dad was referring him as his "other boys" and then claiming that there might be a mistake.
"What he means is, what are you talking about? Sam and I are the only two son's you have. Remember?"
Minerva smiled at the younger man's antics. "There is no mistake, Mr. Winchester. We made sure of that before I came over here to inform you."
"So you're telling me that Henry, somehow managed to survive the blaze that killed his mother?" John said in a rare state of disbelief.
"Or are you going to tell us mom managed to survive that too?" Dean muttered sarcastically not really believing this woman for a minute. He didn't even know her, and here she was sitting in Bobby's living room telling his father that his baby bro was alive.
Sure.
John shot Dean a glare while Sam punched him.
"Yes, Mr. Winchester, that is what I am telling you," Minerva said while eying John's eldest sternly.
"Does he, Henry, know? About this? About me, I mean?" Why was he finding it so difficult to talk all of a sudden? It was as if he had suddenly lost the ability to form coherent multisyllabic complex sentences.
"Yes," The elderly woman said slowly, "Or so we believe he does."
"What is that suppose to mean? He either knows or he doesn't! You did not perform this paternity test without his permission did you?" John accused sharply not liking any of this one bit. If this woman did something-
"We did no such thing, Mr. Winchester. I believe, Mr. Potter, knew what he was doing leading up to the test results, however shortly before the results were delivered, something happened and that made the results come at an inopportune time. Mr. Potter took ill a few minutes later."
"What?" John questioned, confused. Nothing that she had just said made any sense whatsoever to him.
"Mr. Potter took the paternity test and got the results following a slight mishap. A mishap, that has since been dealt with I assure you. I regret to say that Mr. Potter became poorly moments after getting the results and was sent to be checked out by the school nurse. He should have recovered nicely by now."
"Who the heck is Potter?" Dean asked from his position on the couch beside his brother Sam. Sam rolled his eyes at his brother. Potter was Henry, obviously.
"Potter, is, was his adopted parent's surname." The woman said with a tone of sadness. She had mentioned she'd known the couple.
"What do you mean was?" John asked he couldn't help himself. He wanted to know all about the people who had raised his son, they could have been the very ones to have taken his little boy from him after all. "Where are they now?"
"Lily and James Potter were two of the best people I had the honor of knowing. I actually taught them myself many years ago and attended their wedding. I know Lily loved Harry as her own and James too. They treated him as a son and I declare, I don't think I ever once saw a frown on that boy's face. He was a happy baby and adored both Lily and James. Harry looked so much like James that it was impossible not to think they were related."
"Okay, that's nice and all but when are we going to meet these Potter's? And when are we going to meet Henry." Dean said impatiently ignoring the nudge from Sam or the stern look from Bobby. Focusing on the defeated posture of his father, who appeared to not be handling the fact that his son had come to see another couple as his parents rather than John or even Mary.
"The Potter's, Lily and James, I mean were killed on Halloween night in a home invasion many years ago. Somehow, Harry, who was just a toddler at the time survived this too. We don't know how, but we have our theories."
"Where did he go then? Why not return him to us?" Sam asked, speaking up for the first time in a while.
"Like I said, we just found this out ourselves, Harry,-"
"His name's Henry!" Snapped John, getting tired of the woman's attempt at calling his son Harry. They'd named him Henry, goddamn it, not Harry! He didn't want someone renaming his child.
"Henry was someone else besides a Potter. We have just as many questions as you do. If we'd known about this sooner, we would have contacted you. If anyone wanted Ha-Henry to go and live with another family, it would have been me."
"Sounds like a bunch of hogwash to me," Dean muttered to himself, growing tired of the woman's insistence that she never knew anything or how much his younger brother apparently looked like his adopted father. What about his biological father? Didn't he look anything like John Winchester, or was it just this other guy, James Potter that his youngest brother, who managed to come back from the dead, resembled? Henry was supposed to be his brother
"Where did he go?" Bobby reiterated Sam's earlier question.
"He was sent to his closest living relatives."
"Which should have been us," Dean said angrily that they had spent the last decade thinking that their brother or son was dead when really he'd been living the whole time, somewhere else.
But he had not gone to the Winchesters, he'd gone somewhere else and something about the way the woman talked about the "somewhere else" made her opinion clear about how she felt about these "relatives" who lived "somewhere else".