Disclaimer: I do not own any characters used in this story, all recognizable names, locations, and characters are property of She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, also known as J.K. Rowling. I have come to the unfortunate position of having to write a new disclaimer, because in my old one I called her wonderful, something that I wholeheartedly disagree with now. To all of the trans people who may read this fic – I stand with you.

Summary: Set during OotP, sometime between Christmas break and when Dumbledore is forced out of the school. McGonagall finds out about the blood quill and talks to Harry and Umbridge about it. Angst. One-Shot.

A/N: I have written at least two fics about someone finding out about the blood quill, however my writing has gotten better since then so I wanted to try my hand at it again. Also… McG is a bad bitch and I love her, so anytime I get an idea to write a fic about her I do it.

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Enough

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Professor McGonagall could tell that Harry hadn't been sleeping at night. He kept leaning his face on his head and then dozing off, his face slipping and almost hitting the table.

Normally she would snap at him to stop his shenanigans and start getting some sleep at night so he could pay attention in class, but… he seemed more than just physically exhausted. She had gotten very good at detecting when something was wrong with her students, and Harry seemed emotionally and mentally exhausted, not just physically tired.

So, she let it go during class, letting Harry get as much rest as he needed, even at her expense. She could always help him with the spells if he needed it later – or better yet, let the Granger girl teach him.

Even though she had elected to give Harry a pass for not paying attention, she still wanted to make sure that he was doing okay. Despite her usual demeanor, she did, truly, care about the wellbeing of her pupils.

So, when she dismissed class, she asked Harry to stay behind. He stood up slowly, motioning for his friends to leave before he trudged up to her desk.

"Come to my office, please, Potter." McGonagall gathered up the papers on her desk and moved toward the door that went into her office, glancing behind her to make sure that Harry was following.

She moved aside to let him pass before closing the door behind him, moving around her desk and sitting behind it.

She cleared her throat. "What's wrong, Potter?" she asked quietly, taking her glasses off and setting them on her desk.

"I'm not sure what you mean, Professor." Harry replied, yawning.

"You're exhausted, and I don't think it's just from lack of sleep. What's going on?" McGonagall leaned back in her chair so she looked less intimidating.

"You know how it is, ma'am. Late nights studying for my O.W.L.s." Harry replied. McGonagall watched him suppress another yawn.

"Forgive my forwardness, Potter, but I have known you for close to five years. I know the difference between your late nights and when something is really bothering you. Are you still having nightmares?" She asked quietly. She still remembered the incident before Christmas break with the Weasley father.

"Professor, I appreciate your concern, but I'm going to be late to my next class…"

"I'll write you a pass." McGonagall leaned forward. "You do not have to tell me what is going on if you do not want to. But I want you to know that I will listen and try to help if you choose to share with me."

"Professor McGonagall…" Harry scrubbed his left hand down his face, and McGonagall caught a glimpse of something bright red.

"What's on the back of your hand?"

Harry sat bolt upright, no longer looking fatigued. He held up his right hand. "Nothing, Professor."

"Your other hand, Potter." McGonagall tried to keep the annoyance out of her voice, lest she scare the poor boy away."

"Oh, you know, I was helping Hagrid out with some new creatures, and…"

"Harry." McGonagall rarely called her students by their first names, but now seemed like an appropriate time. It certainly got Harry's attention. He gulped and shakily held up his left hand for examination.

McGonagall stood up and walked around her desk, sitting in the chair next to Harry. She carefully took his hand into her own and held it up to her desk lamp to get a better look.

As she read the words I must not tell lies etched into Harry's skin, it was like a fireball erupted in her chest.

"Potter…" she took a few breaths to try to calm herself down. "How did this get on the back of your hand?"

"It's really not that big of a deal, Professor…"

"Because it looks…" McGonagall cut him off, "Like you have been using a blood quill."

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but I don't know what that is." Harry tried to tug his hand out of hers. She let him.

"A blood quill is a small, black quill that takes the user's blood and uses it as ink." McGonagall explained. She wanted to move back to her seat behind her desk, but she wasn't sure that her legs could support her. How Harry could have possibly gotten his hands on a blood quill…

"Oh, well… that sounds about right." Harry conceded, looking at the floor.

"Where did you get a blood quill, and why had you been using it, Potter?" McGonagall questioned. She leaned back in her chair.

"Well, I haven't been doing it intentionally, Professor! Umbridge is making me use it in detentions…"

"She what?!" McGonagall exclaimed.

Harry gulped. "I've, um, I've had a lot of detentions with Professor Umbridge this year, ma'am, and every time she makes me write I must not tell lies with that special quill for hours. I've been having trouble completing my homework on time, and I haven't had time to sleep…"

"Potter, stop." McGonagall took some deep breaths. It had been a long time since she had felt rage like this. It was one thing to take over the school and run it into the ground, but to make a student use a blood quill in detentions… especially a student like Harry who had gone through so much in his short years…

"I can imagine the stress you have been under because you have had to spend so much time in these… detentions… instead of doing your homework and sleeping. However, that is not my concern at the moment. You see, blood quills are illegal. It is especially illegal to force underage wizards to use them in detention!" McGonagall had to force herself not to yell.

"Oh, I guess I didn't know that." Harry looked down at the floor again.

"I didn't expect you to know that, Potter. But the fact of the matter is that Professor Umbridge is breaking wizarding law by forcing you to use that quill. Professor Dumbledore must be informed of this immediately."

"NO!" Harry yelled, standing from his chair.

"Excuse me?" McGonagall exclaimed.

"You can't tell Dumbledore. Please Professor McGonagall, don't tell Dumbledore." Harry pressed his hands together, pleading.

"Sit down, Potter. Why wouldn't I inform the Headmaster of illegal activities happening in this school?" McGonagall asked.

Harry sat down slowly, on the edge of his seat. "Dumbledore has more important things to deal with. He hasn't even looked at me all year, why would he care if I'm being forced to use a blood quill in detentions? Please, Professor McGonagall, I'm begging you. Please don't tell him."

Normally, McGonagall would ignore such a ludicrous request from a student, but something in Harry's eyes made her reconsider. She leaned back in her chair, folding her hands across her chest.

"I'll make a deal with you, Potter. I will go and talk to Professor Umbridge about this. If she agrees to stop, and if you tell me that she has stopped forcing you to use the blood quill, then I will not tell Professor Dumbledore. However, if she does not stop making you use it, I will have no choice. And I expect you to be honest with me about this. If I find out that she has continued to make you use the quill and you haven't told me, I will be going straight to Professor Dumbledore. Are we agreed?"

"Deal, Professor." Harry nodded.

"Very well." McGonagall reached across her desk for a quill and some paper. She scribbled out a note and handed it to Harry, shooing him off to his next class. She had about two hours until her next class, which meant she had plenty of time to talk to Umbridge.

She stood up shakily, moving to sit back behind her desk. She balled her hands into fist and slammed them into her desk, unable to sit down. She knew she had to calm down before going to confront Umbridge, but the sheer audacity of that women was making her clench her jaw. How she could even dare to force Harry to use a blood quill in detentions, only to further the Ministry's entirely incorrect assumptions…

McGonagall sat down and scrubbed a hand down her face. She couldn't let her anger get to her like this. She was a respectable woman, she could not storm through the hallways like a bat out of Hell in front of her students and colleagues.

Despite her thoughts, she couldn't seem to stop the rage that was tearing through her. She had set her wand down long ago, but there was still so much power radiating from her that she wasn't sure she could control it. She heard a glass explode on a table behind her. She forced herself to calm down.

She took a few deep breaths and collected herself, perching her glasses on her nose. She stood from her chair calmly, ignoring the anger swirling in her chest. She walked out of her office with her head held high, her robes billowing out behind her. She made short time getting to Umbridge's office.

She knocked on the door politely, waiting until Umbridge called her in.

"Minerva." Umbridge said as she walked in, stirring her disgusting pink tea. "Would you like some tea?"

"No, thank you." McGonagall forced herself to sit down in one of the chairs in front of Umbridge's desk. The décor… She missed when the office belonged to Remus Lupin.

"What seems to be the problem, dear?" Umbridge asked, sipping her tea.

"Well, I have just had a very strange meeting with Harry Potter, Dolores. It seems that you have been forcing him to use a blood quill in your detentions." McGonagall decided to get straight to the point; she wasn't sure how long she could contain herself.

"That's rather odd." Umbridge sipped her tea again.

"I have seen the cuts on his hand, Dolores. Mind you, he was very opposed to telling me in the first place, but I finally got it out of him. I have come to politely ask you to stop forcing him to use a blood quill." McGonagall straightened her back, trying to look intimidating. "He has ben through enough."

"Even if I was doing such a thing, what makes you think that you could stop me, Minerva." Umbridge retaliated.

"You and I both know that blood quills are illegal. Even with the Ministry backing you up and tearing Potter to pieces, I still have a good reputation. I believe him. If you do not stop, I will be forced to report you to the Ministry for breaking wizarding law." McGonagall said calmly. "And they will be forced to believe me, because I will take Veritaserum before my testimony. And I am sure Potter will as well."

"Are you threatening me, Minerva?"

"No, Dolores, I am not threatening you. I am promising you. I cannot stop you from giving Potter unnecessary detentions because you do not believe him about You-Know-Who, but I can stop you from forcing him to use an illegal, harmful object. You can make him write lines as much as you like as long as he uses a regular quill." McGonagall stood. "And rest assured, he will tell me if you force him to use one again. I can promise you that as well. Do we understand each other?"

Umbridge smiled darkly. "We understand each other perfectly. But you can rest assured that I will get back at you for this, Minerva. You will not get away with this… this disrespect."

McGonagall had to force back some very nasty words that were trying to push themselves out of her mouth. She smiled back at Umbridge. "I look forward to it."

….

McGonagall checked in with Harry every week to make sure that he was no longer being forced to use the blood quill. As far as she could tell, her little talk with Umbridge had worked.

Umbridge had exacted her revenge, hitting McGonagall with about six stunning spells at once when she had attempted to stop the toad-like professor from dragging Hagrid away from his hut. McGonagall had hoped to have revenge when she got back to the school, but Umbridge had already been carried off by centaurs, something that she still laughed about when she was alone.

Today was the last day of school, and the Feast was going on in the Great Hall. McGonagall hobbled in with her cane, her head held high. She was surprised to see Harry at the feast, since everything that had happened in the Department of Mysteries…

She walked up to him slowly. "Potter, a word?" Harry stood and followed her out of the Hall and into the entranceway.

"I'm sorry about your godfather, Harry." McGonagall laid a sympathetic hand on Harry's shoulder.

"I'll be alright, Professor. Thank you for… you help. Before. I appreciate it more than you know." Harry scuffed his shoe against the floor.

McGonagall patted his shoulder, knowing that this was hard for him. "Anytime, Potter. I will always be on your side."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"I mean that. If you have any more problems, you can come to me. I will help as best I can, I promise." McGonagall reassured.

"Did… did Umbridge hurt you because you helped me?" Harry asked, looking up into McGonagall's eyes.

"It may have been a contributing factor." McGonagall conceded. "I don't know for sure, Potter. But you don't have to feel guilty about it. I was glad to help you." She moved her hand from his shoulder. "I know you are under a lot of stress about You-Know-Who, and I know that I cannot be much help on that front. But I will help you with anything you need while you are here at Hogwarts."

"Thank you, Professor."

"You're welcome, Harry."