Ginny Weasley, September 1996
There were very few things Minerva McGonagall hated. Bitter coffee, stale biscuits (honestly, were you raised in Azkaban?), a lack of respect for the complex discipline that was Transfiguration...she detested all of those things, but none quite as much as having to visit the Defense Against the Dark Arts office, which, under Amycus Carrow, was now simply the 'Dark Arts.' With the exception of Remus Lupin, there had not been a single occupant of that office whose company she genuinely enjoyed enough to actually pay a visit there.
And, yet, here she was being summoned to this God forsaken place for only Merlin knows what.
As she approached the door, almost instinctively, Professor McGonagall checked the pocket of her cloak for her wand; it was there. She had barely raised her hand to knock on the door when it swung open, startling her slightly.
"Ah, Professor," Amycus Carrow beamed, smiling bitterly, "How nice of yeh to join us. Come in, come in."
"I was under the impression that you wanted to meet with me to discuss a student," She said, furrowing her eyebrows.
"Yes, the student is here," said the dark-haired man, gesturing for her to step inside, this time much more impatiently. He stepped to the side slightly as she entered, "Recognize this one, don't you?"
Professor McGonagall had to make a very pointed effort to not respond audibly to the sight before her. Paralyzing panic gripped her as her eyes fell on a terrified Ginny Weasley, arms bound behind the wooden chair that she sat on. From what Professor McGonagall could see, the redheaded witch had a busted lip and a crusty streak of dried blood running down her face.
She had always been certain of one thing: Because Sirius Black and James Potter had not led to her early demise or retirement, she was sure that, at the turn of the nineties, upon the arrival of Fred and George Weasley, that one of Molly and Arthur Weasley's brood would be the death of her.
"I asked you a question, yeh old spinster."
She narrowed her eyes at him, swallowing the defiant response forming in her throat. "You know that she is in my house," Minerva answered through gritted teeth. "Weasley, how badly are you hurt?"
"I'll live to tell the tale," Ginny responded.
"SHUT UP!" Professor Carrow roared, striking her hard across her cheek with the back of his hand.
The slap echoed, and it was followed by a sharp gasp from Ginny. It was evident that the teenage witch was giving this her all. Ginny bit down hard on her lip, but the pain and discomfort was etched into her face. Professor McGonagall would bet her wand that Weasley would sooner drag her bare bottom across concrete than let someone, a Death Eater no less, know that they were getting the best of her. Merlin only knows how long they'd been at this and what he'd done to her before her arrival.
She didn't even want to think about it.
"Tut, tut," Amycus Carrow said, "I'd advise against speaking out of turn, Minerva."
Her pride was attempting to claw its way out of her throat. She closed her eyes, as if praying for patience, "Professor Carrow," McGonagall said, the forced calm and politeness evident in the stiffness of her voice, "If you don't mind my asking…"
"The 'free of us are just havin' a chat, right, Professor?" Amycus Carrow said, with a nasty grin.
She didn't like the way he smiled at her. In fact, she didn't like it when this dunderhead smiled at all; he was cruel and ruthless, smiling seemed beneath him.
"Yes, well," Professor McGonagall was short, "May I know why my student is bound like a criminal?"
She watched, unflinching, as the man circled the chair in the center of the Defense Against the Dark Arts office. She refused to refer to it as the Dark Arts. This was Hogwarts, for Merlin's sake. While Ginny Weasley was a formidable, gifted witch, this had still been a matter of a sixteen year old and a Death Eater and the former had clearly and, as expected, been severely outclassed.
"She might as well be," Amycus purred, resting a hand on Ginny's shoulder. Professor McGonagall's mouth formed a hard line as Ginny squirmed under his touch, only for him to dig his fingers further into her shoulder, "All the grief she's caused me in meh class, wearin' Potter's jersey and his bloody badges. And I don't think she's learned her lesson, 'av yeh girl?" He asked.
When Ginny squirmed underneath his touch, she felt her stomach turn.
"Minerva," Amycus purred, digging his finger's deeper into the teenager's shoulders, "Say, you lived through the first war, didnya?"
Professor McGonagall assumed a rigid posture and clenched her teeth, "I did," came the short response.
He smirked, "So then you remember what they did to blood traitors back then - especially the witches…" Amycus trailed off, running a long finger along Ginny's jawline. When she twisted and craned her neck trying to get away from his touch, he gripped a fistful of her hair and grabbed her chin with two fingers.
"Professor Carrow, that is not necessary," She said, but to no avail. Minerva had seen a lot of vile things in the first war, not the least of which was the degree to which families like the Weasleys often had their female members subjected to all sorts of abuse and public humiliation.
"Yeah, I imagine Weasley here could learn a thing or two from that," He said, running his hands up and down her arms.
Ginny looked like she might be sick at any moment. Professor McGonagall wasn't doing much better.
"Carrow, she is a child," Professor McGonagall said, shifting uneasily, "And this isn't war."
He raised an eyebrow at her, "Isn't it?" Amycus Carrow's hands came to rest on the hem of Ginny's sweater, gripping it lightly; he never broke eye contact with Professor McGonagall.
The lump in her throat had increased to an impressive size, and she willed the warmness gathering in her eyes away, "Have you not an ounce of honor?" She asked finally with a shaky voice, making a great effort to stiffen her lower lip. Professor McGonagall chastised herself for how weak she sounded, for how weak she felt and her inability to do much of anything to help her student.
Whether it was the nerve of her to challenge him or an unlikely appeal to his humanity having succeeded, she didn't know. But he stopped. The culture of Hogwarts had changed dramatically and it was established among the staff that the Carrows were not to be challenged. She was well aware that she may have very well signed both their death warrants, but this had become painful to watch...and Minerva had seen quite a bit of unbearably painful things in her day.
"I'm going to let that one go, yeh old bat," said Amycus, with a scowl on his face, "But get yer knickers out of a knot, I'd never defile me self with a wretched blood traitor like that," He said, stepping away from the chair.
Ginny, who had been holding her breath the entire time, bowed her head in exhausted relief; her breath was jagged. She may have been crying, it was difficult to tell.
" 'Sides, you are going to be giving Weasley the remainder of her punishment. Take out yer wand. Yer going to be givin' Weasley a taste 'o torture."
She cocked an eyebrow at him. "I - I'm sorry?"
"I - I - I," Amycus mocked her nastily, "Take. Out. Yer. Wand." He pressed the tip of his own wand upwards into Ginny's jaw.
Professor McGonagall had heard the whispers of the Carrows'...methods, but still she couldn't help but feel like she had heard him incorrectly. "That's draconian," She said, trying to tame the anger swelling in her.
The man sighed and looked away briefly, as if willing himself to be more patient. "Very well," He started in feigned defeat, "We'll do it the hard way - crucio!"
The scream came from Ginny's mouth, but McGonagall's first sensation was relief that the pain had come to her body rather than Ginny's. She fell to the floor. The pain, though unbearable, was not unfamiliar; she had been in tight spots before. It was not her first time at the rodeo. But still, it was as if every nerve in her body was being told to feel the most excruciating pain in the world at the same time. In some parts, it felt like an extreme burning, in other parts it felt like a strong jolt of electricity and, most intolerably, she would describe the pain running down her legs as someone dragging dull knives across her calves.
As the pain subsided, she struggled to push herself into a sitting position on the floor. She met Ginny's terrified eyes as she did, "Professor McGonagall, please, it's okay," pleaded the younger witch. "Please just be quick about it."
"Shut up, Weasley," She retorted, unwilling to even entertain the idea.
"Change yeh mind?" Amycus asked coyly, "Do you two need a moment to discuss?"
With her head still lowered, Professor McGonagall raised her eyes, "No," She said without thinking.
"Hmm," Amycus mused, "Very well."
This time she was prepared. He was sadistic and his move was predictable; no sooner than he'd fired another jet of red light at her, did she fumble on drawing her wand, just barely producing a shield charm in time.
"'Ow dare you!" Amycus exclaimed, his wand still pointed in front of him.
"Please," She returned, wand at the ready, "Let Ms. Weasley and I leave quietly and I will pretend that you did not ask me to perform an unforgivable curse on a student, after doing only Merlin knows what to her…"
"I can discipline any student as I see fit," He spat venomously.
"According to Professor Snape," Professor McGonagall said swiftly, "Pure-bloods are the exception to your tyranny."
He scoffed, "She's a blood-traitor."
Professor McGonagall clucked her tongue, "And pure-blooded all the same," She said, wand still raised, "The Headmaster's mandate was very clear. I'm sure he'd be most disappointed to find this information out…"
"That's an empty threat, that is," He interrupted, jabbing his wand at the air angrily.
It was. Snape cared nothing about whether either of them, or anyone known to be associated witht Potter, lived or died. But Carrow and his sister were both as dumb as rocks, and she could be quite the convincing liar.
"Perhaps," said Professor McGonagall with a flippant shrug.
He hesitated a moment, shifting his gaze between her and Ginny. "Take her and get out," Amycus said, finally conceding, lowering his wand and angrily stowing it away. "We're finished here."
Within seconds, she had freed Ginny from the wooden chair. She nearly collapsed when she tried to stand the first time. Professor McGonagall slung Ginny's arm around her shoulder and wrapped her own arm tightly around the teenager's waist so that she was supporting most of her weight. The soreness in her own body made this task that much more difficult.
As they approached the door, Amycus grabbed Professor McGonagall's arm, "Not a word of this to anyone," He said, before pushing both of them into the corridor and slamming the door behind them.
In an empty classroom, far, far away from the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower, the two witches sat. Ginny slowly sipped from the cup of water Professor McGonagall had conjured for her with one hand, and propped her head up with her other hand. Save for Ginny's occasional grimaces of pain, they had sat mostly in silence for five minutes.
"Thank you, Professor," said Ginny finally, setting the cup of water on the table.
Professor McGonagall pursed her lips and furrowed her eyebrows. "I'm sorry?"
"For, um, what you did back there," Ginny clarified, "You didn't have to. Loads of professors are afraid of him - his sister, too. Had I been in anyone else's house, I reckon I would've been as good as dead."
She made no immediate effort to respond, but thought of her student's words. You didn't have to.
"Weasley, you are mistaken," said Professor McGonagall, "I did indeed have to. When the house elf that has the misfortune of being subjected to Professor Carrow's service told me that he required my presence, she also told me that a student may have been in distress."
Ginny swallowed hard, "You didn't know it was me."
"I figured there was a reasonably high chance that it was one of these death-defying Gryffindors of mine," said Professor McGonagall, which elicited a small chuckle from Ginny, "But no, I did not know for certain that it was you. I would have shown up for any student."
A brief but heavy silence followed.
"I don't mean to make you relive that nightmare," started Professor McGonagall tentatively, "However, I need to know exactly what happened prior to my arrival."
She sat silent as Ginny walked her through the two hour long detention she had served with Carrow. She had been cursed and hexed repeatedly; he had struck her repeatedly all because she had worn Potter's Quidditch jersey to class. "He thought I may have information on Harry," said Ginny, "On where he might be…"
"Hmm," hummed Professor McGonagall. She wanted to ask if she did, indeed, know where Potter was but she decided against it. At this moment, Ginny was far more important and Potter, undoubtedly, had his friends to look out for him, "Go on."
Ginny shook her head frantically, "Honestly, Professor, a couple of curses and hexes - I grew up with Fred and George - I'm fine really…" The redhead shifted in her seat anxiously.
"What happened back there," Professor McGonagall interrupted, lowering her eyes, "...was predatory. And you should not have been exposed to that, to any of it. No teacher at Hogwarts - or any person with a shred of decency and shame - should punish or allude to punishing a student in that way. It is the worst abuse of power."
Ginny grunted her agreement, and finished the water. "I really should be going."
"I will walk you back to your dormitory," Professor McGonagall offered, wincing as she stood up.
Ginny frowned. "I could've taken that curse, Professor."
"Oh, I don't doubt that you could've," She said as they left the classroom together, "As I said, punishing a student in any number of the cruel ways that Carrow suggested makes a mockery of the founding principles of this school. Whether or not you could've handled it is irrelevant. I could not."
Every so often, one of them needed to stop as a pain in their side turned to a limp or the limp turned walking into a nearly impossible task. They walked back in silence to Gryffindor Tower, neither of them saying much but understanding all the same.
"Is there anything else?"
Professor McGonagall stood at the foot of Ginny Weasley's bed, clutching a knapsack, containing everything of Harry Potter's that had been left in Ginny's possession. His Quidditch Jerseys, a few badges from the Triwizard tournament and a locket with the letter 'H' on it.
"Nope, that's it," Ginny responded, sitting on the edge of the bed.
She sighed, shut the bag and slung it around her shoulder. "I don't do this to be unnecessarily unkind."
Ginny hesitated for a moment and managed a wobbly smile, "I know, Professor."
"Well, then," McGonagall said, looking around awkwardly, "I will expect to see you in class on Friday, after you've gotten those wounds looked at by Madam Pomfrey." She turned on the heels of her boots to leave, but thought better of it and turned to face Ginny once more, "One more thing."
"Hmm?"
"Do take care of yourself and err on the side of caution," said Professor McGonagall, quite seriously.
Ginny flopped backwards onto her duvet, "You know me."
"That's exactly what I'm talking about, Weasley," She responded, not totally confident that the last of the Weasley brood would take her advice. That wouldn't be a first, but Professor McGonagall hoped against hope that she would.