McGillivray Manor

Vesta McGillivray tended to have a good cup of Earl Grey in the morning, usually at eight o'clock sharp. After that, she habitually proceeded to her office in order to get her day's work done before allowing herself to engage in leisure activities, such as the restoration of the East Wing's first floor corridor, as well as some of the rooms on the lower level. From upstairs, a biting stench of cleaning agents and purifiers crept into every corner of the downstairs premises, vaguely reminiscent of the smell of doxycide, which the elderly woman had had to endure all week at the Blacks' estate in London. Mrs. McGillivray considered for a while to move her visitor to one of the smaller rooms in the West Wing before beginning to work on the new article for her knitting club's monthly magazine, but decided against it after throwing a seemingly casual look into the boy's room and at his face. He was still lying in the same position as he had the previous evening when Minerva had returned to Hogwarts to supervise the last two days of exams at least, having flooed to and from Hogwarts six times a day throughout the previous days. Mrs. McGillivray was well aware that her daughter tended to do too many things at the same time and was thus glad to see that Minerva seemed to have decided that the NEWTs students at the very least needed a hundred percent of her presence and concentration.

This, of course, had left her mother with the ill-bred half of Perseus Blacks' offspring.

Mrs. McGillivray had been advised that the boy needed rest and that all she had to do was see to that he got three meals a day, but even this seemed much to ask of a distinguished lady such as herself, she found.

When she peered into the room, which the young Black currently occupied (frowningly, her glasses occupying the part of her nose that was furthest away from the eyes) the boy looked up, frowning back, but obviously trying to be more sociable than he had been the night before.

"You are awake," Mrs. McGillivray observed, scanning the boy's upper half, which was no longer covered by his blanket as he was trying to pull himself into a sitting position. "Good. I shall take my breakfast in a few minutes' time. Will you join me?"

"I can't walk," replied Sirius somewhat nonchalantly. "Professor McGonagall insisted that I am not to leave the bed at all."

"I am aware of that," remarked Mrs. McGillivray, somewhat displeased at the young man's tone. "And that is 'madam' to you, boy. We have been through this before, have we not?"

"Sorry, ma'am," said Sirius impatiently. "Professor McGonagall mentioned I might be allowed to summon my own food..."

"Certainly not," snapped Mrs. McGillivray, continuing to scrutinise the boy who seemed very much in a struggle whether or not to present his best side. Her daughter had the wildest of fantasies, really. Ever since she had started working under Albus Dumbledore her ideals of education had - well, slackened. "Boys your age rarely know what is good for them, especially in terms of food. I shall take care of your meals. Did my daughter state exactly how long you will be staying with us?"

"Only until I can walk again," said the young Black sourly. "At least, though, until tomorrow. My parents would not lik-... will not be able to take me before the holidays start."

"Good," replied Mrs. McGillivray. "We shall hope for a prompt recovery then. MAWLY!"

The boy jumped.

"Our House-Elf," Mrs. McGillivray informed him. "The premises are so large I often forget that she will come without me straining my vital capac... ah, here we go."

With a small crack, a creature had disappeared beside Mrs. McGillivray's legs. Mawly the House-Elf was extremely short, of a greenish colour, and her head looked as though it had been crimped long before the few strands of white hair had grown all over her wrinkly face and cheeks. She looked extremely old, but not tired.

"Yes, mistress," she squeaked. "At your service, Lady Vesta."

"I shall have a proper breakfast today, Mawly," said Mrs. McGillivray without hesitation. "Beans, toast, some sausages... everything. Our guest is going to tell you what he will take," she continued, "but mind you - he is not going to get any sweets, understand?"

Mawly nodded eagerly. "Yes, mistress."

"Anything else... oh, yes. I shall continue refurbishing the corridor this afternoon. Will you tell my husband that he is to join me and that I expect him to wear a set of old robes from the current century. Also, if you please, we need to be present in the real world when the boy's parents are coming to collect him, which will be some time tomorrow I expect."

At this, Sirius let out a small groan, but suppressed it instantly, as though not wishing for anyone to read an emotional declaration into this.

"You will have to call the Elf if you have any pressing needs," Mrs. McGillivray declared, her attention now directed at her young visitor again. "Other than that, I shall be in earshot most of the time today, I expect. Oh, and -" she bent forward slightly, as though suddenly fractionally embarrassed, "have you met Osk?"

The boy frowned. "Who?"

"Ah," said Mrs. McGillivray, sounding slightly relieved. "Osk the Ostentatious. He is a Viking from the... oh... 9th or 10th century, I believe, one of my husband's closest friends. He might appear at any point during your stay, and I must ask you to excuse and, if possible, ignore him. He will not speak a word of English anyway... contemporary English, that is. My husband and this man are very close." She became aware of the boy giving her incredulous looks. "Well, anyway," she said quickly, feeling her cheeks flush at the thought of the intrusive young man with his battle axe and his strong liking for the family's wine cellar, "nothing for you to worry about before you actually perceive his battle axe somewhere near."

The boy nodded slowly. "I... I see, ma'am."

He was careful now, careful and courteous, Mrs. McGillivray noted. Good. "I shall visit you again in the afternoon," she said briskly, returning to the dining-room after another brief nod at her guest.

It was not until much later that Sirius heard voices from the corridor. At first he thought the lady and her husband had finally started their refurbishing work, but then he realised, much to his horror, that the voices were unpleasantly familiar. Mawly, who had only just brought him some tea - a hot meal, this time, complete with soup and a small pudding, sat upright at hearing voices that were not her master's and mistress's. She waddled towards the door only to recount what Sirius had long before discovered.

"Sirius Black's parents, sir," she whispered excitedly after returning to his bedside. "Mawly better clean Sirius Black's sheets before anyone sees..."

"Oh, shove off," said Sirius grumpily, though in a carefully low voice. "If those are really my parents out there, the last thing they are going to worry about is what my bed looks like."

Mawly started to protest, but Sirius motioned her to shut her trap. The House-Elf had been fussing about him all afternoon. Although it had turned out to be a rather pleasant experience to be asked for his wishes more than twice ever thirty minutes, Sirius had quickly discovered that the true reason Mawly was keeping close to him was her desire of companionship. She had to be rather lonely in this old manor if no one but the old (and obviously demented) couple lived here. Sirius found it hard to imagine that Professor McGonagall had spent all her childhood roaming such vast premises. Then again, this might precisely be the reason why she had chosen Hogwarts as a new place of residence after leaving home.

Sirius did not often consider other people's pasts and motivations, but the old stones and archways that lead from one room into the other gave him something to think about other than what had happened the night they had rescued their friend from Mull.

James and Peter had not come to visit again after their conversation, and even Remus avoided leaving the castle now, presumably because exam week was approaching. It seemed a bit of luck that he did not have to sit any exams this year, but Sirius decided after two days in McGonagall's house with nothing to do, unable to move any of his limbs, that anything would have been better than to stay here and stare at the old building's stone ceiling and walls hour after hour.

And now his parents had come - earlier than anyone had expected and probably without invitation. Sirius pondered. How had they learned of his staying at McGillivray manor? Surely Professor McGonagall had not given away his whereabouts, considering their silent, mutual agreement that he would try and fit in (Gryffindor house that is - yes, the agreement was old) while she would consider and reconsider before sending his parents notice of his misdeeds during term time?

"I shall see him then," he heard his father's voice, and promptly the door of his little provisional ward was pushed open. "You!" He pointed at Sirius as though he was something he would like to squash between the tips of his fingers rather than look at. "Explain!"

Sirius did not hesitate. "I was injured in a fight and..."

"YOU!"

This time, the word, accompanied by the same gesture his father had used upon seeing him, came from the mouth of his mother. Towering over the room like a giraffe over a desert bush, his mother looked even less forgiving towards whatever her son had done now to bring shame on the name of Black than his father did. Sirius's gaze darkened.

"Yes, me!" he snapped indignantly, pulling himself into as much of a seating position as possible. "Mother, I am here by order of Professor McGonagall for my wounds to heal because I was injured in a fight - and no, it was not my fault! I have officially been exempted from the exams. All my teachers agreed that they had sufficient material for..."

"WHAT have you done?"

His mother's voice had turned icy. Not good, Sirius decided, realising that he had to play his cards exceptionally well. He also realised with horror, however, that relating the entire story to his parents would mean betraying his friend's lupine identity to them. His mother, he knew, had considered herself in a personal feud against werewolves ever since her brother had come rather close to being bitten, somewhere near the beginning of the 20th century. He hesitated, struggled, then shut his mouth and shook his head. His mother took two steps towards him, grabbed him, front first, and pulled him as close to her pointy face as the situation would allow it.

"WHAT. HAVE. YOU. DONE?"

Sirius winced. "I... I was on a rescue mission," he reluctantly disclosed. "One of my friends was... about to be killed."

"Who?" requested his father from somewhere behind his mother.

"Ba-Balbina Cuncytaw," Sirius panted, trying to squeeze some air through the tiny hole his nightshirt formed around his throat under his mother's neck. "A... a good friend of James and me... very renowned family."

"Yes," said his mother slowly, without releasing her grip. "I know them. Polish origin, is it?"

"I don't know," whispered Sirius. "Please, mother..."

"Did you succeed?" enquired his father's voice from far behind. His shoulders sagged.

"No, but..."

"Meaning the girl is now dead?" inquired his mother with an indecent increase of interest in her son's story. Sirius nodded, not wanting to think of what had happened at Mull. Not wanting to remember...

At last, the grip around his collar loosened to some extent. "Well, you know what that means, of course," said his mother sharply. "You are coming home with us today. I shall have a word with Dumbledore, but before that, mark my words..."

"The boy will stay until his doctor has given leave for him to be transported," said a stern voice from the door. Everyone present turned their heads. Sirius craned his neck and could only just stop himself from letting out a yelp of relief and delight. Professor McGonagall had returned the exact moment he needed her most.

"What on earth is going on here?" enquired the deputy headmistress indignantly, marching into the room like a general on the battlefield. She positioned herself at the end of Sirius's bed so that she was now facing Mr. And Mrs. Black, as well as her student and the House-Elf, who was still sitting loyally at Sirius's bedside next to the room's only window. "Gladia, Perseus, if you don't mind me asking, what are you two doing here?"

"I was going to speak to you and your mother about the dinner, quite naturally," Sirius's mother replied. "Christmas is approaching. There is much to be done... and what," she continued, throwing a dangerous look at her son, who shrunk a few inches in his seat against his will, "should I find but my good-for-nothing son, who ought to be sitting an Astronomy exam at this very moment."

"Mother, I explained to you, didn't I, that..."

"He is excused from all examinations due to his near lethal wounds," said Professor McGonagall sharply, putting a slight emphasis on the last three words. "He has taken part in an extremely dangerous excursion, regarding which I sent you a short note of information last term. You might have ignored it, as usual, of course."

Her voice now had assumed a slightly accusing tone now and Sirius stared at the deputy headmistress, not sure if he was going to believe what he had just heard. Professor McGonagall was the only person in the entire wizarding world, whom he had ever known to lie his mother in the face. And to protect Ihim/I! His head swirled.

"He did not bring shame on the family name for once then?" Sirius's father enquired maintaining the same calm voice he had had from the beginning of the conversation.

"On the contrary," Professor McGonagall replied heatedly. "You should be proud of your son. His achievements in the majority of subjects are above average, and..."

"We appreciate your appraisal," said Sirius's mother curtly, "but you will understand that the time we can spare for this matter is limited. We are planning to take Sirius home tonight..."

"As I said, I am afraid I cannot allow it," said the deputy headmistress tartly. "He will have to stay here until his wounds have sufficiently healed."

There was a short argument. Sirius had felt, from the beginning, that he could count on Professor McGonagall presenting her usual unrelenting self, and sure enough after a moment's heated debate his parents retreated into the living room, where, according to Mawly the House-Elf, Lady McGillivray was taking her tea.

When the door shut behind the two visitors, Professor McGonagall turned to Sirius, her face stern, but with the merest trace of a smile.

"Your mother will cool down in due time," she said. "Blacks always do, and Snapes aren't much different, I imagine. You will be able to go home safely once her mind is sufficiently occupied with this year's Christmas Dinner. It is even possible that their coming today was not the worst that could have happened. It required a downright lie, of course..." she hesitated while Sirius was willing his face to display thankfulness and admiration at the same time, "but I do believe it was worth it," the deputy headmistress concluded, gazing down at Sirius through her square glasses. "Your safety is sometimes a bit of a... special case, of course."

Sirius nodded gravely. "Mother's a huge..."

"I am almost certain I would prefer not to hear the end of that sentence," said Professor McGonagall quickly, as usual sensing what was about to come. "But I would like you to know that your friends have press-ganged me into allowing another visit tomorrow night after the exams. I suggest we let the healers have another look at your legs and arms in the morning, and if possible try to have you home by the weekend. How on earth did you manage to get into that sitting position?"

Sirius grinned. "Will-power," he said, and then: "Professor, what about the Knights? Any news?"

"No," said Professor McGonagall quietly. "But you know that these things take time, don't you? The trials will be held during the holidays, I expect. Will you be following them?"

"I most certainly will," said Sirius grimly. "They made my best friend a murderer."

"Oh yes," said Professor McGonagall. "But before I forget - I strongly advise you not to mention the matter to Mr. Lupin again. He is taken care of by specialists on his... condition, but it is certainly going to take time before he understands that it was not him who killed one of his best friends."

Sirius nodded. "Thank you, Professor," he said quietly. "For everything."

McGonagall nodded and left.

Sirius, on the other hand, put his head back on his pillow, took a few deep breaths, and then said, more to himself than to the lingering House-Elf, who was eagerly trying to catch every word: "...but it was a darn great adventure."

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay. Not entirely my fault for a change. ;) Just a note to say that the wolf/dog confusion is entirely the Marauders', not mine. Guess the transformation wasn't too perfect after all - as yet. gA. C. Mathur - exactly the right way of thinking. Schizophrenia is one element of Skein's persona, magic, of course,another. Hedoes play an important part in Severus'sefforts to perform Legilimency, as youprobably noticed.I am trying to play around with what is sane and what isn't. We'll see if it works out. ;) Also, no worries about the older Snape part. I'm aware that therewas too much unexplained information inthat sceneand Ionly put it in toserve an insider joke rather than adding to the story. Apologies for that.