I have walked a great while over the snow,
And I am not tall nor strong.
My clothes are wet, and my teeth are set,
And the way was hard and long.
I have wandered over the fruitful earth,
But I never came here before.
Oh, lift me over the threshold, and let me in at the door!
The cutting wind is a cruel foe.
I dare not stand in the blast.
My hands are stone, and my voice a groan,
And the worst of death is past.
I am but a little maiden still,
My little white feet are sore.
Oh, lift me over the threshold, and let me in at the door!
—Mary Elizabeth Coleridge, "The Witch"
Chapter Two
Had she not thought to question Hagrid more closely, and had he not said the magic words of 'Godric's Hollow', Minerva might have spent the entire day waiting at Privet Drive for Albus Dumbledore to confirm the rumors of You-Know-Who's demise, as had she had classes free that day. Such was hardly necessary, though, as she was present when Holly was retrieved, and she had Hagrid take her straight back to Hogwarts.
After the half-giant dropped the toddler and the witch off—and gave Holly a whiskery kiss—he headed in the direction of Hogsmeade. Minerva, on the other hand, led her temporary charge to the Hospital Wing. It was only after extensive tests, and a thorough examination that McGonagall took the little girl to her apartments. There, she transfigured a crib for the girl, and finally crawled into her own bed.
Surprisingly, or perhaps unsurprisingly, Holly went to sleep immediately. It was Minerva who lay awake for hours, staring at the ceiling. She could hardly believe that two of her best students were now dead. It seemed like only yesterday the young bride was blushingly confessing that she was pregnant, while her new husband sat there with a look of prideful awe on his face.
McGonagall had been deeply fond of them both, but it was James who had truly been her star pupil. Along with Sirius Black, he had been one of the most gifted students she had ever taught. She only had three children in all her history of teaching who had completely transfigured a match into a needle on the first day, and James and Sirius had been two of them. And even more impressive, while Sirius had achieved it by the end of the first class, James had done it on his first try.
It had been wondrous to see him work with his Mahogany wand. His movements had always been effortless, much in the way she had often seen the Headmaster use his wand. There had been no extra actions, no hard focus, simply negligent flicks that created perfect transfigurations or conjurations every time. She had looked forward to the day when the war was over and he might continue on with his education. Minerva had suggested to him that he might become an Animagus, and he had seemed rather amused by the idea.
She rolled onto her side. It was just one more life wasted by You-Know-Who, and that talent, which she thought James might have had, was now nothing but wasted potential. The cat Animagus wondered what would happen now if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was really gone. Would the war end, or would the Death Eaters carry on the fight?
Before she had time to ruminate too much further, a quiet knock could be heard on the door to her quarters. Checking her pocket watch, she saw that the hour was ten minutes after eight in the morning, though it was hard to tell from the darkness outside. Minerva crept from her bed, stopping only to pull on a tartan dressing gown, and walked to the door.
As she did, Lily's cat Artemis wound its way around Minerva's ankles. The cat had been discovered just before Hagrid and McGonagall left the crumbling ruin, along with James's wand, and she had been very glad it had. Magical cats seldom ran off if something happened to their owners. They sometimes would wait by burnt-out ruins and die wasting away, longing for their family to return. Minerva was going to make sure that the cat would have a home with Holly, no matter what.
Once she reached the door, Minerva turned the knob and pulled the door open. It swung wide when she saw the Headmaster on the other side. "Albus," she greeted quietly.
"Minerva," he returned. "I trust you're well."
She nodded sharply. "Come in."
"Thank you," he said, stepping inside.
"Is it true?" McGonagall asked him, mere seconds after he crossed the threshold. "Is he really gone? Everything I saw makes me believe it, and yet after eleven years..."
Dumbledore nodded his understanding. "He is really gone. I have informed the Ministry already. Minister Bagnold scarcely believed me."
The Transfiguration Professor sighed. "And I suppose that Hagrid has been telling anyone who will listen at the Hog's Head."
"Don't be too hard on him. We have had precious little to celebrate for some time now."
"I know that," Minerva responded with some irritation. Her eyes then looked beseechingly at the Headmaster. "I don't understand, Dumbledore. What happened? Why did You-Know-Who's powers break when he turned his wand on Holly?"
"Really, my dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You-Know-Who' nonsense—for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort."
She shuddered.
"And, as to your question," he continued, "we may never know. I have some guesses I will be considering over the next several weeks and months to come, but guesses is all they are." He then crossed to the transfigured crib across the room and looked down at its occupant. "I had intended Hagrid to keep her until tonight."
McGonagall sighed. "Holly was slightly afraid of him, and Hagrid would have had no idea what to do with an active toddler. Really, Albus; he intended to have her with him in a pub all day before you could both go ahead with your plan about Holly's relatives."
Dumbledore nodded. His eyes then narrowed, and he said, "I hope you aren't thinking you can keep her. She must go to her Aunt's."
Minerva nodded. "I know."
And she did know. As much as she hated the situation, Wizarding law was very clear. In lieu of a Godmother, Holly had to go to her nearest blood relative, and that was Lily's sister. McGonagall knew that James had some distant Abbott cousins from his mother's side, but they were a remote connection.
"Though," the Scotswoman said tartly, "from what little Lily told me, those people aren't fit to care for kneazles, let alone children."
"Minerva, please," the Headmaster said, sounding tired. "She needs to go to Petunia Dursley's. Voldemort's supporters—many of them as mad and dangerous as he—will be out in full force looking for the child. And make no mistake, Minerva. Voldemort will return, and more dangerous than ever. While Holly Potter can call home the place where her mother's blood dwells, she cannot be touched by Voldemort or his supporters. It's ancient magic, based on Lily's sacrifice. And it is unbreakable."
McGonagall pursed her lips. "I guessed as much. Still, were it not for the blood protection, any Wizarding family would be better."
"Surely you exaggerate; they are her own kin—"
"You don't know, Albus," she said, cutting him off. "I have gotten very close with Lily over the past few months. The poor girl has been desperate for someone female other than Bathilda to talk to about raising a daughter, now that all her friends are dead—Marlene, Mary, Dorcas," McGonagall recited bleakly. "We have owled back and forth a great deal, and she was very clear about the relationship she had with her sister. She did not get on with Petunia at all. Her sister hates magic."
He scoffed. "I highly doubt that. Petunia Evans wrote me and requested admittance to Hogwarts."
"At one point, maybe that is how she felt," Minerva said. "But that jealousy over Lily has long since turned to hate. She didn't come to Lily's wedding, and the only contact the two had with each other were gifts exchanged at Christmas."
The Headmaster looked troubled, but made no response.
Holly's future weighed heavily on her. If she had her way, Holly would never so much as spend a second of time with Petunia, but the child's safety was more important than her own wants and desires. After a long while, she sighed. Crossing the room, Minerva looked down at Holly and relaxed when she saw the little girl was still sleeping deeply.
He followed her. The two of them stood shoulder to shoulder for a while, just staring down at the toddler.
"Ah," Dumbledore said after a moment. Minerva watched him pull the neck of the sleeper Holly was wearing down to stare at her scar.
"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?" she asked, following his gaze.
"Even if I could, I wouldn't," he said. "Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground."
She sighed. "The poor wee bairn was exhausted after her ordeal. I imagine she'll sleep most of the day. I don't have classes today, I shall stay here and watch her until it is time to deliver her to her relatives. I assume you are performing the blood protection charm today?" At his nod, she gave one of her own. "Right, then. We'll take her there at eight o'clock this evening and explain everything."
"I thought a letter might do," Dumbledore admitted.
"What, and leave her in a basket on the doorstep?" Minerva scoffed, only partly joking. "This isn't the type of news for a letter, Albus. We must tell all to Lily's sister. They need to be able to understand her."
Dumbledore sighed, but gave a nod. "It shall be as you say."
Minerva nodded, her regretful face falling on the sleeping baby once more. "The poor dear. She doesn't have anyone in the world left to care for her."
"I wouldn't say that," Dumbledore said softly, looking meaningfully at her.
Minerva met his eyes, and then gave a nod of understanding.
Holly slept until around eleven, at which time she woke full of questions. Where were Mummy and Daddy? When were they coming back? Could Moony and Paddy and Wormy come over to play? The list went on and on, but Minerva didn't mind it so much. Holly was a very sweet and loving child who was naturally curious about everything. With her cat and her teddy bear with her, Holly didn't fuss about spending time in Minerva's quarters at all.
When it was nearing eight o'clock, after the evening meal and a bath for the toddler, Minerva carried Holly from her rooms with the cat cage in one hand, and the two trunks of things she had recovered from Godric's Hollow trailing through the air behind her. Once they reached the outer corridors, where students were walking, voices and chatter began to die down as they observed Minerva McGonagall and her strange procession pass. They began whispering to each other when they recognized Holly, which surprised the Animagus as she didn't think news would have spread so quickly. She wondered just what had been going on in the Wizarding World while she had been watching Holly that day.
Once she stepped into the Entrance Hall, Minerva crossed to where Dumbledore was waiting patiently for the pair of them.
"Why hello, there," Dumbledore said to the little girl, waggling his fingers at her.
"Bumbabee!" Holly laughed, reaching out to grab his waving digits.
"Ready to go, Miss Holly?"
"Yes," Holly said, nodding her head as she stifled a yawn. Though she had no idea where they were going, she was very enthusiastic. "Let's go."
"Bumblebee?" Minerva asked, lowly, a slight smirk on her face.
"I made the mistake of telling her that was what my last name meant when I once visited Godric's Hollow," the Headmaster told her, his eyes twinkling. "She has a wonderful memory for being one so young."
When they noticed the crowds, Dumbledore and McGonagall departed the school swiftly and, once they were past the main gates, they apparated to Little Whinging. Holly fussed a bit when it was over, but quickly settled down again, resting her head against Minerva's shoulder. The toddler's eyes flickered shut, and she began to doze off.
The Animagus's first impression of the neighborhood was one of supreme confusion. Did the residents really mean to have all their homes look the same? Neat, manicured lawns and tight, tidy homes were all stacked together like little ice trays. Small cars sat in front of each house, and clipped hedges designated boundary lines. Not one of the homes had a bright color or any distinguishing quality. It seemed like a singularly depressing place to live.
McGonagall was deeply sorry she was consigning Holly to ten long years there before the wee one could rejoin the Wizarding world.
The two Professors walked up the steps of Number Four, Privet Drive (the trunks now no longer floating), and Dumbledore knocked sharply on the door.
It took a moment, but eventually the door was opened by a blonde horsy-faced looking woman who saw their clothes and sneered. "What do you want?" she snapped. She was looking behind them with a slightly panicked expression as well, as if she was afraid of someone seeing them standing there.
Minerva shot a glare at Dumbledore, and then turned to Petunia and said, "We were Lily's teachers at Hogwarts. We need to speak with you. May we come in?"
The woman looked as though she was going to protest, so Minerva simply took the decision from her hands and stepped inside. Dumbledore followed with the trunks.
"Now see here," the woman protested. "You can't just come in here—"
"Mrs. Dursley, I am afraid we have grave news about your sister," McGonagall said calmly. "May we sit down?"
Petunia paled suddenly, and then her eyes flitted over to Holly and she gasped. Nodding sharply, she led the pair of them into the living room. As they stepped inside, they could hear the newsman on the television say, "...owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise."
"Vernon," Petunia said, her voice trembling. "Turn off the telly."
"Why, pet? What's wrong?" He stopped short when he saw the two magical people who stepped into the room behind his wife. His face turned purple as he took in their clothes, especially Dumbledore's star-spangled robes. He too paled when he saw the little girl in Minerva's arms. He quickly turned the television off, and took his wife's hand as they sat down together.
Once they were all seated, Dumbledore cleared his throat and said, "Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, it is my sad duty to inform you that Lily Potter and her husband James are dead. Our society has been at war for the past eleven years, and Lily and James were members of an organization devoted to bringing down the evil wizard Lord Voldemort who was trying to take over our world. Unfortunately, their actions caught Voldemort's attention, and last night he went to their home and killed them both, and destroyed a good portion of the house as well. He is now dead though, so it must be some small comfort to know that your brother-in-law and sister died as heroes."
Vernon had no reaction, but Petunia did have the grace to look a little upset. The expression was gone momentarily though, and replaced with wary caution as she asked, "What's that got to do with us?"
Dumbledore looked nonplussed. His shock and disapproval evident, he said, "She was your sister, Mrs. Dursley. Don't you care at all?"
Petunia looked guilty, but then it was gone again and belligerence took its place. "Look here, I won't have you telling me what I should feel about my own good-for-nothing sister. She got mixed up in that magic business, so it is no wonder she got herself blown up."
The Headmaster's mouth dropped open. Dumbledore looked at the woman steadily, as if he was searching her very soul, and then his head dropped downwards. "Can you ever forgive me, Minerva? You were quite right."
McGonagall gave a small nod.
Lily had been very clear about her sisters...limitations, and they were now seeing them first hand. While still upset, the Transfiguration Professor knew Albus's actions had not been ones of malice. She knew that he felt very strongly about the bonds of family, and constantly regretted the actions that led to the fractured relationship he had with his brother. His sister Ariana was a constant plague on his mind and spirit, and he would give anything to go back and repair what he had done. Wrongly, he had thought that Petunia felt the same over the break with her own sister. Still, he had almost made a very grave mistake. Had he been more detached, and simply dropped Holly off with a letter as had been his plan, Holly would have had ten horrible years in this awful house. As it was, perhaps they could amend that so her years weren't quite so terrible.
"I am very sorry you feel that way," Dumbledore said to Petunia, once he had turned away from Minerva. "But the facts of the matter are quite simple. In sacrificing her life for her daughter, as your sister did, Lily invoked a very special type of magic upon her daughter. If Holly is able to call this house her home until she is seventeen, she will not only keep that protection until her seventeenth birthday, but it will also extend to you and your family. Make no mistake; Voldemort's forces are out there right now, looking for their master. They will stop at nothing to find him again. And they would think nothing of torturing two non-magical people for information."
Petunia had paled again, but Vernon snorted. "Load of old tosh. I'll admit the Potters were weirdoes, no denying it, and the world's better off without them—I always knew they'd come to a sticky end."
"Vernon!" Petunia gasped.
Minerva glared at the man, and clutched Holly closer to her. She had never been more thankful that the toddler was sleeping and would not hear such cruel things about her parents.
"You know I'm right, pet," Vernon stated badly. "They asked for what they got, getting mixed up with these Wizarding types."
Petunia let out a little moue of disagreement and looked away.
"The fact remains that you are both in danger. If you refuse to take Holly," Dumbledore said, "then we are no longer responsible for you both, or for the life of your son. When you are being tortured to death, I'm sure it will be a comfort to know that you didn't get mixed up with us weirdoes. I hope you will survive, but I doubt it." He stood, as if to go, and Minerva followed suit.
"Wait," Petunia called out shrilly. "We'll be safe, then?"
Minerva smiled into Holly's red curls. Albus really was a master manipulator when he needed to be.
"Petunia!" Vernon gasped, his face growing red. "I'll not have one of them in my house! Only normal people are allowed here, and if she stays, mark my words, I'll stamp the magic out of her, that's what!"
"Minerva," Albus said, his voice cold as ice. "Take Holly and Mrs. Dursley upstairs and get a room prepared for the young one. Mr. Dursley and I are going to have a talk."
